Sea Monkeys

So this weekend’s animal related adventure (because every escapade here seems to be involve some sort of animal) was the Lopburi Monkey Festival.


I didn’t arrive in Lopburi until around 9pm on Saturday night, because I spent most of the morning at the bottom of a pool in Bangkok. By this I mean I completed my scuba pool session with my cousin/instructor extraordinaire, Steve.

The night before I tried my first Mos Burger, part of a Japanese burger chain that’s apparently been sweeping Asia. The Spicy Mos Cheeseburger wasn’t too shabby, but it definitely wasn’t spicy. To be fair, my definition of spicy has been seriously altered since I arrived in Thailand. I'm going to try to work my way through the Mos Burger menu, maybe I'll have tried them all before I leave Asia.


So Friday night I crashed at Steve and Anastasia’s lovely pad (for as long as I live, I doubt I’ll ever bathe in such a spacious shower), then I completed my pool session the next day. Firstly, I’ll say what I’m sure every diver says for the first time: there’s no sensation quite like breathing underwater. It’s something I always dreamed about doing (literally), and although I was covered in gear and strapped to a big tank, sitting at the bottom of the pool and realizing I could remain there was pretty surreal. I’m excited for my first open water dive next weekend, even though it’s going to be in Pattaya, which according to every account I’ve come across, houses the scum of the country. I’m honestly kind of interested in seeing it now, after hearing such widespread vilification and disgust.

Lopburi definitely didn’t end up being my favorite town, but I was happy to see some people from my program. It’s a huge relief to speak with people who understand exactly what I’m saying without having to resort to hand gestures or repeating myself slowly as if speaking to a five year old. The language barrier hasn’t gotten to me too much, but it can seriously perpetuate small problems, particularly in Thailand where people will pretend that they understand you so they don’t lose face. That particular Thai habit is what leaves me stranded on the wrong side of town, writing an exam six times over, or sitting in my room with no electricity.

In my time here I’ve met very nice Thai people, who smile at me, offer me free food, or stand in front of me on the bus to block my eyes from the sun. I’ve also met people with generally bad intentions, who see a farang as a separate class of person, who is inevitably wealthy and deserves to be swindled. I don’t know how else a culture that believes in karma could downright steal from people without restraint. There was unfortunately a lot of that this weekend, and even though my stuff went unscathed, I was disheartened (and for the first time in Thailand, angered) by the disinterest of the hotel staff when it came to retrieving missing goods.

The Monkey Festival itself was also pretty unclimactic; I was more thrown off by the monkeys climbing on cars and drinking sodas in the street than the ones crawling up the walls of the temple where the food offering actually occurred. I was curious about the ruins the monkeys were lounging on, there were a lot of relics from an old city scattered throughout Lopburi, and I wanted to know their history.

Before I left, I saw the local sunflower fields, which were actually rather picturesque. As a friend of mine pointed out, most people don't see that much bright yellow on a regular basis, particularly in a natural setting, so it was kind of captivating. Here's me looking like a total flower child:


I had to hop on a bus not soon after that, from which I took a motorbike, to the skytrain, to a van in order to get back home. If you don't ride at least three forms of transportation it’s not a real Thai trip. I only spent about 16 hours in Lopburi total, so the travel time felt even more dragged out than usual. Traveling on the weekend is still my greatest solace, but it’s also dissatisfying in its brevity.

However, I’ve decided to think about my circumstances in a more positive light, after remembering the many conversations I’ve had with travelers who wander freely for several months. Almost all of them agree that what really burns them out is not having a base, a space to call their own where they can decompress in between traveling. Here in Amata, I have that, humble though my town may be. Besides, travel is still travel, and even a short weekend can produce long lasting memories.