NOVEMBER 19 — On my last day in Bangkok, I briefly contemplated drowning myself in Chatuchak Park’s lake.
It wasn’t a sudden wave of suicidal ideation.
My shoulders, my back, my arms, my legs and feet all hurt.
It didn’t help that I had been walking through the park from Mo Chit BTS trying to find the MRT station.
I did ask a local, who pointed vaguely in a certain direction but there were no signs, or at least no signs I could read.
Apple Maps finally got me where I was supposed to go while Google Maps kept showing a Starbucks that I could not spot anywhere.
The Starbucks, dear reader, was underground.
While in the park I sat on a bench, admired the lake, watched the locals nap on the grass while squirrels flitted across the grass and a large crow rummaged through the trash.
It was nice being away for a while but the city showed me I still had a long way to go where recovery was concerned.
For some reason Thailand thinks escalators should only go up in train stations and that lifts should be placed very far away from the stairs so you really need to work to find them.
Crossing the street in Bangkok is still a mildly terrifying affair and when I tripped on a hole on the road in the middle of a busy crossing, I blurted out: “I’m going to die.”
Fortunately the only thing that has died on this trip is my ego.
I look healthy, slightly plump, hair a wild wavy shock on my head but I walk like a 90-year-old bent over with arthritis.
My hissing while gingerly going down the stairs very slowly must look rather strange to passing Thais but to their credit they do as the Japanese do — politely pretend they don’t see anything.
The two train rides I took to Bangkok made me decide two things — next time I will pay extra for the business class ETS and pack decent food to eat.
A can of Pringles just was not it.
While I couldn’t fall asleep in the sleeper train (blame the roach that decided to dance along the wall while I was trying to doze off) I still liked the experience more than flying.
The security theatre of airports is tiresome — in contrast, at the Padang Besar train station, going through Malaysian Immigration was a less than two-minute affair and Thai customs, just next door, also took less than 10 minutes of queuing.
My rundown sleeper train had nowhere for me to charge my phone so I spent the hours meditating, journaling and figuring out my itinerary.
Usually I tend to research my trips quite a bit but this time I just decided to YOLO things and find things out along the way.
That meant interesting discoveries (like the narrow food court in Siam with delicious duck rice) or comical situations like my Hunt for The Train Station adventure in Chatuchak Park.
I was also in Bangkok to catch the K-pop group aespa.
With how volatile the industry is, I figured I should go see my faves before they disband, SM Entertainment fridges them or some other strange tragedy happens as is too often the case in South Korea’s mad entertainment scene.
My favourite member was unfortunately sick with the flu but the show did go on, quite splendidly but the desire to clock people for blocking my view with their phones was very strong.
I took a sporadic photo or short clip or two but for most of the two hour and a half duration, I was screaming fanchants, like fans used to do before they decided looking at their phone screens was more important than seeing aespa’s Karina with their own eyes.
Thai street food is still wonderfully affordable though I also frequented a Northern Thai restaurant nearby for excellent curry noodles.
I liked the place so much I’ll probably head there again and most likely for the next aespa concert in Bangkok because of all the countries in the region, I think Thailand is still the place to beat.
At the venue, there was a huge long stretch of tables dedicated just to first aid kits and personnel on hand.
Someone feeling ill in the pit was quickly attended to, without disrupting the concert.
Malaysian concerts in contrast can be chaotic and rather messy with safety seeming more like an afterthought.
Thai fans are also super enthusiastic in contrast to audiences in places like Japan or Singapore, who often behave as though they are watching a chamber music recital.
When I flew home, the combined weight of my backpack and handbag was just 7.1kg but to me it felt like 20kg.
I guess I have a lot more strengthening exercises and cardio to do.
Bangkok was great because I felt less like a prisoner of my own body, helping me still the voices in my head still terrified of stairs and falling.
I can’t be a cancer patient forever; the disease changed me and perhaps the trajectory of my life permanently.
It’s also made me conscious of how you’re not guaranteed even a second longer of this life so you might as well live — walk that long stretch of road to find good noodles, stand those three hours in a concert pit, sit on a park bench to catch your breath and watch the squirrels.
For now, I’m glad to be home and in my own bed, with my cat complaining about not getting her treats yet.
To the next adventure and my legs, and heart, getting a little bit stronger every day.
* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.
