A travel story you should never try… unless you enjoy unforgettable sunsets, spiritual awakenings, and spicy noodles that ruin your life (in a good way).

“I should’ve stayed home,” I told her.

First morning in Bangkok. My eyes were still swollen from the red-eye flight, and there she was Eliza, my travel partner and ex-situationship — sipping coconut water like she belonged here. She had that glow, that annoying sense of calm people find in places like this. I hated it already.

It was supposed to be a disaster trip.
Two weeks in Thailand, just the two of us, after not speaking for six months. Who books flights with someone they almost dated but didn’t? Me, apparently.

Day One: Too many temples. Too much peace.

We visited Wat Arun, then Wat Pho. Too golden. Too quiet. Monks in orange robes smiled at us like they knew our souls. A stranger tied a white string on my wrist for good luck. I rolled my eyes.

Then we took a tuk-tuk ride through Old Bangkok. The driver laughed at my pronunciation of “Pad Krapow.” I tried it anyway. Basil chicken. Fried egg. Fire in my mouth. I almost cried.
Worst. Lunch. Ever.
(I ordered it four more times that week.)

Day Three: Phi Phi Islands – Don’t Go. It’ll Break You.

We took a boat from Phuket to Maya Bay, where the movie The Beach was filmed. I wanted to hate it. Touristy. Overrated. But then… we swam in turquoise water surrounded by limestone cliffs. And Eliza, damn her, looked like someone from a dream.

We didn’t talk much that day. Maybe because we didn’t need to.

Later that night, she asked,
“Why do you always act like you’re not impressed?”
I told her, “Because I’m not here to be healed by a sunset.”
She laughed. Said that’s exactly why I needed to be.

Day Six: Chiang Mai. So boring it changed my life.

We took a cooking class in a Thai family’s backyard. The grandmother taught me how to crush lemongrass and burn my fingers with chili paste. I told her I wasn’t good at domestic things. She said in Thai, through our translator,
“The wok only obeys the hand that tries.”

That’s when I realized: even Thai proverbs are out to humble me.

We also gave alms to monks at dawn.
Woke up at 5am.
Barefoot. Cold. Quiet.
Worst decision I’ve ever loved.

Day Nine: Songkran Festival – The Last Straw.

It was April, so we caught Thailand’s New Year water festival. Pure chaos. Buckets of water, strangers with water guns, soaked from head to toe. Everyone laughing like it was the last day on Earth.

I tried to stay dry.
Someone dumped a full cooler on me. Eliza screamed with joy.
I wanted to scream too. But I was too busy smiling.

Day Fourteen: Saying Goodbye (again)

At the airport, Eliza hugged me too long.
“I think this was the best trip we never planned,” she said.
I wanted to say, Don’t go.
Instead, I said, Yeah. Worst trip ever.

Because how do you admit that a country healed you more than therapy?
That mango sticky rice became your comfort food?
That the smell of lemongrass now lives in your bones?

 Don’t go to Thailand.

The food is too good.
The people are too kind.
The landscapes are too magical.
And if you’re not careful, it might just teach you how to feel again.