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or helping Bekim save his farm in Montenegro, or offering Dheeru a better home in Delhi,
the gifts were just as much about where we come from as where we're going.
Maybe it was time for me to start connecting in a new way to mine. Maybe that was the
difference between feeling trapped and getting to have my cake and eat it too. Because why
on earth would I buy a cake if I wasn't planning to eat it? Though it was so easy for me
to connect with someone I barely knew, it was time I started connecting with the people I
loved. As the final legs of my journey began to appear before me, I knew that, as much as
I wanted that freedom to run, the freedom to follow my dreams, I also wanted to know that
someone had my back while doing it. But more importantly, I also wanted them to know
that I had theirs.
I got back to the orphanage and checked my emails. One of my amazing shipping con-
tacts had come through—the company would be able to provide me space on a ship head-
ing to Thailand in three days. I had three days in Calcutta, and then I would be on my way
east. I felt like I was in a Jason Bourne movie. As I soon found out, getting from Burma
into Thailand might have been impossible anyway. Something to do with a drug war and
a closed border. Although overcoming these obstacles might have been a small feat for
Bourne, Logothetis was a bit more cautious.
* * *
To a certain extent, we all dream of paradise—that place of small-moving kindnesses, with
white sandy beaches and the warm waters lapping against our knees. Before even arriving
in Thailand, I had it pictured in perfect detail. I thought that, between the tourists visiting
from across the world and the plethora of hotels that might be interested in hosting a man
on a mission, paradise would soon be mine.
Paradise was not mine. In fact, paradise was a brutal wake-up call. I rode to the seaside
resort of Pattaya to try my luck, only to discover two things. One, most Thais do not speak
English, which makes sense since they live in Thailand. Second, being a tourist without
money created great cause for suspicion.
I went into a Western-looking hotel to ask for help, and before I knew it, the receptionist
was picking up the phone to call the police. I wasn't sure if she was concerned that I had
run out of money or that I was simply deranged, but either way, I decided it was better not
to tangle with the local authorities in order to find out.
Like in India, the locals were confused by a Westerner with no money. I realized that
in paradise, most tourists come to spend cash on food and hotels, not ask for free meals
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