It was a week before the late Thai King Bhumibol Adulyadej’s funeral when I arrived in Bangkok for a conference and I did not expect that my world would turn black for the next week.
In a quiet, dusty alleyway in Coptic Cairo, a toddler, barely 3, cries mercilessly as he was forced to get a tattoo.
As the old adage goes, less is more. When it comes to traveling, more is unnecessary and less is your shoulders thanking you for not putting them through the gates of hell.
Egypt is an onion. My biggest takeaway from backpacking Egypt twice in 5 years is that Egypt is an onion.
“Can I take a photo with you?”
Her bright, young eyes, full of enthusiasm and wonder, looked into my jaded ones. I remember having eyes filled with sunshine like hers. Now they’re just tired and disenchanted; tired of travelling and disenchanted at the phlegm-spitting, queue-cutting, rude, and conflicting country that I am finally leaving.
“The wind blows from North to South!”
“The wind blows from North to South.”
“YOU WANT TO DO WHAT!?”
Mom freaked out the first time I told her I wanted to backpack solo. Sem break was coming up and I was dreaming of going to Sabah for two short weeks. But that was not going to happen.