There are an awful lot of bugs in paradise

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I recently realized that a number of you reading this blog (and receiving these annoying emails) are people I have not spoken to in some time, so I thought I ought to provide some context. I am currently attempting to change my field of study/work from laboratory based research (I spent the last year and a half working at the NIH) to field work (I need to be outside!!). Of course, in order to get a job/into grad school I actually need some experience. So, I have elected to spend three months (at least) volunteering in wildlife conservation research in Thailand. I will be working with an organization based out of Bangkok but will be staying at various field offices in national parks throughout the country. Until that begins, however, I am playing the typical tourist for three weeks: haggling over taxi fares, trying all the street food, taking too many pictures of menial objects, and enjoying my time in a country that seems, as a whole, to simply tolerate our presence.

Our first few days were spent in a jet-lagged haze, stumbling around Bangkok barely awake, gaining our bearings and taking hours in the completion of minor errands. We began drinking Tai Yin (Thai iced tea) in abnormal quantities and embarked on the early stages of our quest to try all the street food (or at least the things that don't look COMPLETELY disgusting). We visited the first of many Wats (Buddhist temples), an endlessly abundant tourist attraction in Thailand (think churches in Italy and then multiply them tenfold). The Wats are sumptuous affairs, starkly in contrast to the romantic westernized version of Buddhist asceticism. Packed to the brim with shrines and incense, each complex often houses multiple temples within a cluttered courtyard, each temple serves a different purpose and may mark a different era. All are gilded in gold leaf and every inch is plastered with jeweled mirrors. Each is taller and grander and shinier than the last. Some go for ornate detail and cluttered sculptures, all are filled to breaking point with countless Buddhas in ever increasing scales. All follow a fairly standard style, they become less interesting by the minute but still provide a charming addition to every winding nameless street.

Ayutthaya provided my first real surprise; towering red brick ruins adorned with crumbling statues of elephants and Buddha transported me to my youth exploring the jungle pyramids in Mexico. Each temple majestic and unique in its blackened decay, no one worships there anymore so rules of etiquette were abandoned as Irene and I scaled the walls and hop-scotched destroyed pillars. We were fortunate enough to have booked a hostel directly next to an abandoned temple ruin which served as our private playground. A temple only from one view, from others an uneven staircase to the sky, a doorway to unexplored caves.

We take an overnight train to Chiang Mai after a long day of temple climbing, walking with elephants, picture taking, beer drinking, hat buying, tuk tuk haggling and sitting for a terrible "traditional thai massage" that left me with a crick in my neck and a strange deep bruise in my thigh. Obtaining the 2nd class sleeper car ticket was a score considering we had been told the day before that all the tickets were sold out. Apparently the trick is to make friends with a man with beautiful teeth. He instructed us to ask at exactly 9:30 when tickets are "released" from some secret state of limbo. The Thai trains seem to serve mostly as backpacker conveyance between all the hot tourist spots. The air is thick with beer and more languages than I can identify. The sleeper cars are luxurious but they never turn out the lights. The landscape transforms outside into mountains and jungle.

We get an early start on our second day in Chiang Mai when I am awaken by a mystifying phone call from an American expatriate who is supposed to lead us up Doi Suteph. As I searched for the map to direct him to our hostel he spoke in short, erratic bursts.
"What day of the week were you born?"
"ummm...." I'm not wearing my glasses, I can't find the map, it's seven in the morning, what the hell is this guy talking about?
"You're gonna need to know this. It's important"
"Ok...I guess I can call my mom" is all I can think to say, not really considering the logistics of this statement. Luckily he looks it up online.
"Friday. Remember that."
We are supposed to be driving a small scooter up the mountain, neither of us has ever driven before. The rental arrives at 8:30, right as we are supposed to meet our strange expat guide. Irene drives up and down the block once to practice and then we're off. Buddy turns out to be a former prison guard from Southern Virginia who has moved to Thailand to do nothing (a common theme among expats here) and after six years has decided to open a guest house. He knows surprisingly little Thai. We traverse a steep winding road to a temple housing a fraction of Buddha's remains (by this point I am already completely inured to the charm of the modern temples, so I mainly sit and enjoy the spectacle of the Thai's circling automatically, deeply involved in their worship, contrasted with the multiple westerners draped head to toe in what appears to be tablecloths, milling about like lost children, all trying to look awed and respectful but mainly appearing unsure as to what they're doing there).
Buddy leaves Irene and I at a waterfall. We spend the afternoon blissfully frolicking in isolation high up in the mountains among incalculably numerous cascades nestled into the rain forest. We end the day trying all the strangest looking street food we can find. Don't eat the plum. Just saying.

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