Monday I sat in a Bangkok McDonald's, distrait and distraught, missing my home halfway round the world.
Friday I sat on a Bangkok sidewalk, sweating in the night swelter, sipping iced coffee and nibbling fried cheese, with an interesting person (interesting, not "interesting"), sharing thoughts on bucket lists, karma, the great barrier reef, Thai monarchy (all positive, I promise), family, relationships, mistakes, and crazy decisions amongst others.
She called me courageous. I called me lucky. The people I carry with me are courageous.
We talked for hours and sometimes we didn't talk at all, just sat or walked, taking in all the beauty in this magic city.
There were more photo-worthy sights but I didn't take pictures of them, because sometimes it's about being there in the moment. Because living life through Instagram's lens seems to me a fate worse than death. And because, while I love visiting a good wat, the magic of travel is always in the people you meet and the experiences you share with them.
So instead, this night in Bangkok, most of the magic was mine (ours) alone.
Afterward I walked 4 km to my room, sweating through my cleanest dirty shirt, disdaining every taxi and tuktuk because I wanted to make the night last. Just taking things slow.
I'm not used to going slow. But I'm enjoying getting there.