36 o'clock in our heads

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At the airport in the early morning, the facilitator tried to get us to use the self-checkin. When we tried to explain that we were getting on an international flight, she said "You can swipe your passport." Slick.

On the 13-hour flight I ate a few meals, took a few naps, watched some of the movie, looked at the flight map a million times, read the USA Today Sports Weekly, listened to some of the music channels and even did a couple of Sudoku puzzles, which I'd never tried before.

Japan from the air is a very kempt country. The airport is exquisite, verging on genteel. Airline staffers roam the premises seeking out foreigners who need assistance. We fly Al Nippon Airways to Bangkok and the flight attendants are surpassingly gracious and attractive, and the language sounds beautiful on their lips.

But there's something very attractive about the Thais too, and you see it from the moment you arrive in their country. They're more relaxed, loose, playful and spontaneous in a way the Japanese are not. Even in their reserve and respectfulness, there's a southern lilt and swagger.

When we arrive in Bangkok, it's 97 degrees at midnight. We haul our luggage up four flights of stairs and stow it in a dire hotel room. Then we head down the street where the vendors are folding up their carts and we settle into a cafe.

A cat is giving birth to her kittens in a basket in the back, some Ozzie lads are drinking buckets of rocket fuel in the front and a German couple asks us what we are eating. Green curry chicken with a side of rice pressed into the shape of a bear. It's about 36 o'clock in our heads, and at this hour the street scene is no longer throbbing, but certainly still percolating, and the weather is flirting with tolerable. We agree that on the long flight over, you start to wonder why you're doing it but once you're here, the trip blows away like a husk and you remember why you came.

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