I was in a state of complete numbness when I left home for Thailand, my first ever solo backpacking trip. I suppose the sensation could be attributed to nervousness, but I honestly couldn't feel a thing; not when I got onto the bus at five in the morning to catch my morning flight, not when I waited for security check and confirmed my backpack was light enough for cabin luggage, not when I hastily wolfed down a cheap red-bean bun at Paris Baguette as a last minute breakfast, not when I boarded and not even when I landed... though when I arrived at Krabi airport and stepped outside the gates to breathe in my first outside air in 10+ hours, I did silently give a prayer of thanks that nothing catastrophic happened on my first flight alone. The air didn't feel particularly fresh due to the humidity, but the scent was a lot more pleasant than what I was accustomed to in Seoul and it was then that I finally felt like I was in a different country. I was off to a good start.
Thailand was supposed to be my only destination, until I went crazy and decided to quit my job and explore Europe as well. I had chosen Thailand specifically because of the affordable rock climbing programs amidst beautiful tropical beaches. Since it was my cheapest destination out of all the countries I had planned to visit, I booked a private room and arranged for airport pickup service too. And now that the very first part of my trip (the flight) went so well, I figured everything else from there would be a breeze, full of fun and adventure only. Which in hindsight was very stupid of me to think so.
The first stop we made was at the office building of the travel agency that booked everything for me, because I had to make my payment for all the programs in advance. They only accepted cash, so the driver walked me to a nearby 7-11 for me to use the ATM machine. I withdrew about 20,000 baht extra to use for the rest of the week and made my payment, after which the driver then took me to a pier for my ride to my resort on Railay, a peninsula which could only be accessed by longtail boat. The sky was pitch black by this time, and I was feeling quite tired and sticky from all the humidity. Once the boat arrived, I waded a few meters onto the beach and trudged my way up to the reception desk, where I checked in and received my key. A lot of the stores and resorts around were lit up with warm lights, and I passed by a lot of other vacationers enjoying drinks and relaxing, dressed in colorful summer clothes and bikini tops.
My room looked like this:
It was lined along a small street with rooms that all looked exactly the same. I had a porch with two chairs and a table, and the room itself was not a 5-star hotel but it was spacious, clean enough, and thankfully air conditioned. The complimentary soap and shampoo provided looked a bit suspicious, though, so the first thing I did after unpacking was fishing out my toiletries and jumping into the shower.
Once I was all scrubbed clean and in fresh clothes, I decided to organize my money and passport and all my other documents, to tuck them away safely for the time being. I dug into my bag and tossed away my now-useless plane ticket and boarding pass, as well as crumpled receipts from snacks I purchased along the way at the airport. I counted my cash and converted them into Korean won to check how much I had left, took out a small amount to keep in my wallet for the next few days, and stuffed the rest into a paper envelope which I buried deep into the bottom of my backpack. Then I reached for my credit card, which was probably in my passport case, so I could hide that in some secret pocket of my backpack as well... but lo and behold, my credit card was not there.
It was seriously nowhere to be found. I rummaged through all the slits and folds and pockets of my bags and pouches, even all the places where my credit card had absolutely no chance of being. I had last used my card to withdraw cash just about an hour ago, but it wasn't with the cash I withdrew. Why? Could I have left it at the ATM machine, or at the office at which I made my payment?
My body was still in its numb state and my mind was rather blank instead of racing to find a solution, but I could feel my heart starting to pound. I had to act fast. How was I to last two months without my credit card? I realized I was stupid enough not to being a backup card just in case; typical newb mistake, I suppose. No use regretting anything at this point, though. In a rush I made my way back down the street to the reception desk and tried to communicate with the staff. There was only one guy there who spoke decent English, and he was kind enough to call someone at the travel agency, who told me that my credit card was unfortunately not there. My last hope was the ATM machine, but I couldn't go back at such a late hour because there were no more boats running. I couldn't go first thing tomorrow, either, because my schedule was already packed until evening, so I had to wait until 6 pm to do anything. Luckily, I had just enough cash to last me throughout my 10 days in Thailand, so it wasn't a total emergency. Worst case scenario, I would just have to issue a new card to be sent from Korea, and survive on a very limited budget until then. It would be annoying but possible, since in Thailand most of my bookings included breakfast and lunch. At least I wouldn't starve.
Since there was nothing left for me to do but wait for tomorrow, I decided to head back to my room and get to bed, but that's when it started to rain. And I mean pour. I had seen in the weather forecast that there would be frequent showers that evening, but of all times for the rain to fall, it had to be after I had washed and changed into new clothes, and didn't bring an umbrella with me to the reception desk. The rain was falling ridiculously hard, the type that usually ceases within a few minutes of waiting, which is what I figured I would do. I was getting impatient and frustrated of waiting, though, so after a couple of minutes I heaved a big sigh and with an inward "fuck it," ran up the street to my resort, getting soaked in seconds. When I told this story months later, someone remarked that this was like a scene from The Beach, where Leonardo DiCaprio was trying to open the door in the rain; I watched the film afterward and funnily enough found that particular scene very easy to relate to.
Anyway, you'd think that this would be the last of my troubles that night, right? Feeling annoyed with everything, I fumbled with my key for the longest time ever only to find that my door wouldn't open. I tried turning over the key and everything, but it still wasn't working. I almost made my way to the reception desk again to blow up at the staff, when I noticed that the chairs on the porch were a little funny looking. And the table was the wrong shape too.
Yeah, I'd been trying to open the wrong door the whole time. Thank God no one was inside.
OK, in my defense, all the doors looked the same, I didn't memorize my room number, it was dark, and the rain made everything even less noticeable. Nevertheless, I cursed my own stupidity and, getting even more drenched in the process, walked over to the next building and tried to open the door again, and realized I had made the same fucking mistake once more. Twice in a row. In less than two minutes. How was that even possible?
By this time I don't think I even had the capacity or energy to feel any anger, frustration, or any other strong bursts of emotion. I just wanted to get to my room already and stop feeling like such an idiot. I walked over to the third building, not giving a shit about the rain anymore, and didn't even feel relieved when the door finally opened with a click. I turned on the lamp and air conditioner, undressed, wiped myself down with a towel, and sat on the bed. Loneliness and abject misery suddenly started to wash over me. I couldn't believe I had to deal with this shit on the first night of 2 whole months, all by myself. It wouldn't have been this depressing if I were with a friend, I was sure of it. I had no one to whine to, no one to share my sorrows and burdens with. I hadn't signed up for the wi-fi yet, either, so I couldn't even call or message anyone to complain and vent. I wanted to scream and wail, and actually prepared myself to let the tears flow, but I couldn't even do that. My body and facial expression still remained numb and calm against my will, completely masking the utter chaos that was churning inside. I managed to squeeze out a single tear, felt stupid and pathetic for not even being able to cry, and decided to call it a night. Crying wasn't going to solve anything; I might as well get some sleep and see what good or bad news tomorrow would bring.
Thailand was supposed to be my only destination, until I went crazy and decided to quit my job and explore Europe as well. I had chosen Thailand specifically because of the affordable rock climbing programs amidst beautiful tropical beaches. Since it was my cheapest destination out of all the countries I had planned to visit, I booked a private room and arranged for airport pickup service too. And now that the very first part of my trip (the flight) went so well, I figured everything else from there would be a breeze, full of fun and adventure only. Which in hindsight was very stupid of me to think so.
The first stop we made was at the office building of the travel agency that booked everything for me, because I had to make my payment for all the programs in advance. They only accepted cash, so the driver walked me to a nearby 7-11 for me to use the ATM machine. I withdrew about 20,000 baht extra to use for the rest of the week and made my payment, after which the driver then took me to a pier for my ride to my resort on Railay, a peninsula which could only be accessed by longtail boat. The sky was pitch black by this time, and I was feeling quite tired and sticky from all the humidity. Once the boat arrived, I waded a few meters onto the beach and trudged my way up to the reception desk, where I checked in and received my key. A lot of the stores and resorts around were lit up with warm lights, and I passed by a lot of other vacationers enjoying drinks and relaxing, dressed in colorful summer clothes and bikini tops.
My room looked like this:
Once I was all scrubbed clean and in fresh clothes, I decided to organize my money and passport and all my other documents, to tuck them away safely for the time being. I dug into my bag and tossed away my now-useless plane ticket and boarding pass, as well as crumpled receipts from snacks I purchased along the way at the airport. I counted my cash and converted them into Korean won to check how much I had left, took out a small amount to keep in my wallet for the next few days, and stuffed the rest into a paper envelope which I buried deep into the bottom of my backpack. Then I reached for my credit card, which was probably in my passport case, so I could hide that in some secret pocket of my backpack as well... but lo and behold, my credit card was not there.
It was seriously nowhere to be found. I rummaged through all the slits and folds and pockets of my bags and pouches, even all the places where my credit card had absolutely no chance of being. I had last used my card to withdraw cash just about an hour ago, but it wasn't with the cash I withdrew. Why? Could I have left it at the ATM machine, or at the office at which I made my payment?
My body was still in its numb state and my mind was rather blank instead of racing to find a solution, but I could feel my heart starting to pound. I had to act fast. How was I to last two months without my credit card? I realized I was stupid enough not to being a backup card just in case; typical newb mistake, I suppose. No use regretting anything at this point, though. In a rush I made my way back down the street to the reception desk and tried to communicate with the staff. There was only one guy there who spoke decent English, and he was kind enough to call someone at the travel agency, who told me that my credit card was unfortunately not there. My last hope was the ATM machine, but I couldn't go back at such a late hour because there were no more boats running. I couldn't go first thing tomorrow, either, because my schedule was already packed until evening, so I had to wait until 6 pm to do anything. Luckily, I had just enough cash to last me throughout my 10 days in Thailand, so it wasn't a total emergency. Worst case scenario, I would just have to issue a new card to be sent from Korea, and survive on a very limited budget until then. It would be annoying but possible, since in Thailand most of my bookings included breakfast and lunch. At least I wouldn't starve.
Since there was nothing left for me to do but wait for tomorrow, I decided to head back to my room and get to bed, but that's when it started to rain. And I mean pour. I had seen in the weather forecast that there would be frequent showers that evening, but of all times for the rain to fall, it had to be after I had washed and changed into new clothes, and didn't bring an umbrella with me to the reception desk. The rain was falling ridiculously hard, the type that usually ceases within a few minutes of waiting, which is what I figured I would do. I was getting impatient and frustrated of waiting, though, so after a couple of minutes I heaved a big sigh and with an inward "fuck it," ran up the street to my resort, getting soaked in seconds. When I told this story months later, someone remarked that this was like a scene from The Beach, where Leonardo DiCaprio was trying to open the door in the rain; I watched the film afterward and funnily enough found that particular scene very easy to relate to.
Anyway, you'd think that this would be the last of my troubles that night, right? Feeling annoyed with everything, I fumbled with my key for the longest time ever only to find that my door wouldn't open. I tried turning over the key and everything, but it still wasn't working. I almost made my way to the reception desk again to blow up at the staff, when I noticed that the chairs on the porch were a little funny looking. And the table was the wrong shape too.
Yeah, I'd been trying to open the wrong door the whole time. Thank God no one was inside.
OK, in my defense, all the doors looked the same, I didn't memorize my room number, it was dark, and the rain made everything even less noticeable. Nevertheless, I cursed my own stupidity and, getting even more drenched in the process, walked over to the next building and tried to open the door again, and realized I had made the same fucking mistake once more. Twice in a row. In less than two minutes. How was that even possible?
By this time I don't think I even had the capacity or energy to feel any anger, frustration, or any other strong bursts of emotion. I just wanted to get to my room already and stop feeling like such an idiot. I walked over to the third building, not giving a shit about the rain anymore, and didn't even feel relieved when the door finally opened with a click. I turned on the lamp and air conditioner, undressed, wiped myself down with a towel, and sat on the bed. Loneliness and abject misery suddenly started to wash over me. I couldn't believe I had to deal with this shit on the first night of 2 whole months, all by myself. It wouldn't have been this depressing if I were with a friend, I was sure of it. I had no one to whine to, no one to share my sorrows and burdens with. I hadn't signed up for the wi-fi yet, either, so I couldn't even call or message anyone to complain and vent. I wanted to scream and wail, and actually prepared myself to let the tears flow, but I couldn't even do that. My body and facial expression still remained numb and calm against my will, completely masking the utter chaos that was churning inside. I managed to squeeze out a single tear, felt stupid and pathetic for not even being able to cry, and decided to call it a night. Crying wasn't going to solve anything; I might as well get some sleep and see what good or bad news tomorrow would bring.
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