Chapter 6: Where Is There?

“Let’s go over there!”

“Where?”

“Over there…”

“What’s over there?”

“I dunno.”

“How are we getting there?”

“I dunno….”

“So.. why there?”

“Why not?”

Between Yosemite and Sequoia National Parks, wine country and Northern California, Victoria and Vancouver in British Columbia, and 5 different cities in Thailand, Jeff and I have both instigated countless conversations such as the one above.  You already know where I’m going with this… the journey off the beaten path or our uninformed decision led to some special discovery or encounter.  We question each other at times, yes.  We never regret it.  Part of it may be upbringing, but much of it is a lack of money, technology, and expectation.

• The beauty of not having money:

When you stay at a first class hotel:  The concierge plans tomorrow’s itinerary, hands over your attraction tickets, opens the door to your Lincoln, books a table at a fine restaurant, and brings you Starbucks (because you already know that nobody else can make a vanilla chai latte the way they can, and why even risk it?).  When you purchase a guaranteed intra-destination transportation ticket with a precise schedule:  You know when you leave, when you get there, and every turn, stop, and surprise to expect along the way.   

I can hire a Lincoln, visit expensive tourist attractions, eat at a fancy restaurant, stay at a resort, go to Starbucks, and get upset at late transportation in Arizona. I'll take a cheap place to sleep, where the locals know I'm broke, and can get me to the same places cheaper.  And more eventfully. 

• The beauty of not having technology:

Open your iPhone:  Lonely Planet’s app recommends this.  Google Maps tells how to get there.  TripAdvisor says what to do.  When people ask me how a trip was, the last thing I will ever say is, “Hey, went exactly as planned!  It was everything I expected.”  That’s what airline pilots should say, not travelers. Close the phone.  Open your mind.

Pressed napkins, 30^th floor hotel rooms, and fluent English speaking tour guides who get you to the elephant farm in a cushioned Mercedes van are nice at the time.  And of course they have good reviews -from people that don't know how much they're missing.  I have more memories from the National Lampoon-like experiences than the overpriced frills. 

• The beauty of not having expectations:

Why would anyone show up at a city without a hotel reservation?  Why would anyone walk down a street without checking out Yelp’s restaurant reviews first?  Why would you visit the #37 rated attraction instead of the #1?  Well, because the number one attraction was crowded and restricting.  Because the hotel you found on a whim is actually wonderful, but they don't advertise on Expedia.  And the restaurant was appreciative of your business so they brought you a free plate of fruit.   Because when you discard expectations, you discard letdowns.  And suddenly you’re satisfied with less, you’ve saved money, and you’ve tried more.  

Sure, sometimes it is nice to just stretch out on a beach that you don’t have back home.   But your entire trip does not need to be a pre-planned checklist itinerary.

‘Explore’ and ‘adventure’ is not always elephant riding or tiger petting.  Sometimes it is ordering food you don’t know, ignoring Google  Maps, choosing a hotel once you’re there, and forgetting TripAdvisor’s recommendation because spontaneity took you somewhere else.    Just interacting with people who did not expect a tourist to admire their product or service (or just... a tourist) is a rare joy.  And sometimes it comes with a free sandwich and extra postcards. 

No, not every surprise, accident, and mystery will be a raving success.  But if your first two attempts are swinging strikes and you get a base hit on the third, it was worth going to bat.  

Chapter 5ii: Mai Pen Rai

Mai Pen Rai (my-pin-lye)

adj., v., n.

It’s okay.  It’s all good.  Nevermind.  No worries.  Doesn’t matter.  It is what it is.  It’s nothing.  Oh well.  Don’t get mad, get glad.  Stuff happens.  Don’t worry.  Just smile.

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95% of the country is Buddhist.  Therefore, 95% of the country will not dwell on something one cannot change.  95% of the country does not know what ‘upset’ means.  Sharing and collaboration replace the American ways of individualism and competition.  The term “mai pen rai” epitomizes this way of life.  It’s a common expression whose meaning is elusive, and trying to completely understand it is the dizzying mental equivalent of eating jello with chopsticks.  Frustrating?  Mai Pen Rai!

On one hand, this is a wonderful philosophy.  Situation is out of your control?  Oh well.  Don’t get mad, get glad.  Stuff happens.  Just smile.  Can’t change it right?

On another hand, this is a terrible philosophy.  Situation is life threatening?  It’s all good.  Don’t worry.  It’s nothing.  Doesn’t matter.  It is what it is.  Just smile.  Can’t change it right?

The country with the highest death rate by motor traffic accidents in all of Asia, and the 6^th highest in the entire world, is one whose people are exceptionally fatalistic.  A higher power is thought to be at work and if you die, well, you were meant to.  Consequently, personal and road safety tend to be low priority for Thais.

• Red traffic light.  Should I stop or should I go?  For a Thai, they’ll likely leave it to a coin flip (with the hand that’s not holding the cell phone, laundry, and bamboo stalk).  As a foreigner, I am taught to gently engage the brakes when approaching an intersection and stop once I arrive at one (more on that below).  Or another car.  Or a pedestrian.  Or wall.  But if there’s a Thai behind you, you’re playing their version of Russian roulette.  Many have no expectation of you stopping, nor any intention of stopping themselves.   You never know who does or who doesn't.  So what do you do?  If you’re on a motorcycle or scooter (which is probably... 95%... of the population, as well), get as far left as you can – as soon as you can.  That could mean the sidewalk or in between tables at a street food vendor.  Mai Pen Rai!

• Tailgating.  Whether there are an eye-popping total of two vehicles on the road or a thousand, and whether their average speed is 120 km/hr or 20 km/hr, traffic is the same:  bumper-to-bumper.  Undeniably one of the more pernicious aspects of road travel, and I have lost count of the number of times my rear view is clear and in seconds, Jeff Gordon’s younger Thai brother, Chanarong, is 4.3 mm from my rear, flashing his lights for me to move over to the shoulder.  This is only a mild exaggeration.  Mai Pen Rai!

• Braking.  The bus driver flips a coin.  Tails.  Okay, he’ll stop at this red light.  But, wait!  It won’t be red when we get there.  Just kidding, sure it will.  Time to slam hard on the brakes!  I don't know the appeal of playing chicken with red lights, but every driver does it.  What results is an unintentional, full body, human wave moving towards the front of the vehicle.  The elderly lady, going home from the market, is now seated on the cracked wooden floor.  Sumalee, the cute 7-11 clerk, has dropped her purse, phone, dinner, and pet dog to grab on to the last remaining overhead hand strap.  Pravat, a member of the Royal Thai Armed Forces, crowdsurfs the university students who are now distraught that their hair has been ruffled and makeup smeared.  The woman fare collector gets knocked down, but she gets back up again.  And the old guy in the back?  “Mai Pen Rai!”