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.
What kind of friends do I make when I travel solo?
Good ones. Real ones. Beautiful ones.
In a quiet, dusty alleyway in Coptic Cairo, a toddler, barely 3, cries mercilessly as he was forced to get a tattoo.
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.