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and a night's stay. I decided to change my target population, and began to ask foreigners,
or
falung
as they are called in Thailand, for help. Finally, a friendly German stopped long
enough to listen to me.
“No problem,” he replied. “I'll take my daughter to school, and then I get you.”
Sounded great to me, but as the minutes clicked by and Cornelius failed to return, I real-
ized that my new friend had decided against helping his fellow European comrade.
Prior to arriving in Thailand, really the only major knowledge I had of it was drawn
from the Leonardo DiCaprio movie
The Beach.
Not a real reliable source, I know. But still,
I remembered that endless cerulean water, the hint that heaven could exist on earth, and if
you've ever seen the movie, the reality that really scary shit can happen in foreign lands,
especially in dingy hostel rooms! I decided to leave that part out of my fantasy of Thailand,
and had headed to the beach instead.
I waded out in the warm water and looked back at the lush landscape that surrounded
me. If ever there was a place to be without accommodation, this was it. The sun was re-
ceding into the sea behind me, and only a few other tourists swam in the clear water. I
remembered the last line of the film, where Leonardo's character talks about finding para-
dise, “And me? I still believe in paradise. Because it's not where you go. It's how you feel
for a moment in your life when you're a part of something. And if you find that moment . .
. It lasts forever.”
I had made it 16,955 miles (approximately) around the world. I had no place to stay.
I had no money. I had no one to talk to, but I couldn't have been happier. It was like the
old man had said in Varanasi, “Live inside this moment, and do not lose this time.” I was
inscribing it forever within me, memorizing the temperature of the water, the feel of the
breeze across my face, the sound of the birds flying high above. I was alive and present
and whole. I felt like Odysseus again, moving between exotic locales, knowing that home
was getting closer, and like Odysseus, though a part of me wanted to return there, I also
wondered if I could ever give this up.
As I got out of the sea I watched the final embers of the sun disappear into the vastness
of blue, and decided that I would sleep on the beach. The weather was warm and the people
friendly, so why not? It wasn't the best night's sleep, but it was certainly not the worst. You
remember Patna, don't you?
When the morning sun lifted itself above the green canopies of Pattaya, I decided to
head toward the capital of Bangkok. If I thought India was a culture shock, Bangkok
was like walking out of a monastery and into a Rolling Stones concert. Scooters flew by
