I remember the moment I first realized I’ve been living my whole life in black and white. It was like discovering a color I never knew existed before. A whole new crayon box full of colors, that was it for me. From then on, there was no putting the pieces back together. No going home. Things were different now. Asia had ruined me for my old life. - Anthony Bourdain
We finally have the guts to ask an officer for a “tuk tuk”, said my voice trembling, and got into what I knew was an overpaid ride to the hostel. Who cares we finally had made it. The lights, the noise, the wind in my hair, the other tuk tuks passing us closely by, the visual image of my bags flying away…and the smell.
Endless streets with endless amount of food carts, bumping elbows, flying satays, plastic bottles with dark liquids and hot woks all surrounding me at once. My nostrils inhaled that fine dirt that will remain in my lungs as a part of me forever. That dried dirt that becomes part of you and follows you everywhere as well as that salty sweat oozing from you. Keep walking I said to myself, I’m hungry. Nowhere to go, but straight to whatever cart was in front of me. Sweet sweet bananas with Nutella warmly tucked into a crepe. The smell of comfort and love combined with the smell of sweaty Australian frat boyish dudes next to me. Nothing reminded me of home, but I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
The sun in my eyes, the smell of a cold morning and a hot afternoon, the water in the air cleaning my lungs and the motorcycle exhaust doing the complete opposite. Strong dark coffee, cigarette smoke from the Argentinian woman next to me, some oily fried eggs and again that cold satin dirt preparing me for the day. What is there to do but eat, drink, and talk.
Beer. Beer. Beer. The big Asian caguama sits in front of me with two tiny glasses. You better drink it before it gets warm. People watching, drinking, and talking. Ex-pats with Thai woman, ex-pats with Kathoeys, western tourists, backpackers, Asian tourists, farangs, and Thai people selling chachkies, beer, and food submerged in fish sauce. I might need a full book to describe how fish sauce has changed my life. If you say Thailand, I will say fish sauce.
The food surrounds you, the noodles, lemongrass, ginger, tamarind, oil, meat, Thai chilies, sticky rice, shrimp paste, durian, and fish sauce. Strong fish scented smell that disappears when dropped into a hot oily wok. A magical wonder that sometimes I’m afraid to use at home for fear of dropping a small tiny drop into the floor and filling the air with memories (maybe subconsciously I want this to happen).
As I’m writing I’m realizing I can’t describe even one percent of what I am trying to tell. I can’t manage to even begin to explain the sensory overload I experience in one day, and each day was completely different. Each day was its own adventure of trying noodle soups, deceptive wines that looked like beer from the outside, and questionable gas station food. I just know I loved all of it and dream about it every day. I dream of the day I will be back walking under that excruciating Bangkok sun with my over packed bag, smelling Durian and fish sauce all at once, locals offering me to go into weird ally shows as I frantically look for a place to sit and have a beer with a friend.
I promise this is not the last Asia post, whether you like it or not.
