I had roughly 12 hours left in Bangkok, so I decided to make the best of them. I wasn't going to be purchasing any gems, so I headed off on a street in a random direction to see what I could while everyone else on the tour was busy getting hustled. Immediately I was brought back to a foreign culture that I had yet to experience.

Tuk-Tuk drivers asking me my destination on every corner. Food vendors selling unidentifiable meat of questionable sanitation standards. Stray dogs laying dead from mange in the sidewalk, stomachs discolored and swollen. Feces of some sort smeared on an overpass. My eyes were wide trying to digest all this information without just giving up and running back to the bus.

Judging on my initial sights, perhaps this city I wanted to see was worth missing.

Walking down the street I got this "raw" version of Asia that I pictured all my travels abroad would be like. No English would save me here. No foreigners, no helpful interpreters, no help of any kind. Raw culture shock at it's best, and I love that feeling. The overwhelming helplessness of being surrounded by the bizarre, but you are the only one seeing it, because it's all in your head. To everyone else this is every day life, which makes these people as strange as anything as can be, just as you are to them.

But there was some sort of draw to this dirty, rough looking sort of city.

I was itching to get back to the city after I went back to the tour. My enthusiasm, and the fact that I didn't get killed, convinced the rest of my traveling companions to come with me on my next expedition instead of going to a traditional Korean doctor that our tour guide had arranged as our next stop.

We caused a little scene at the entrance of the "doctor" office. I had long given up the pretext of politeness when it came to our guide. He wasted my money every second I wasn't doing what I wanted on his tour because of his greed, and he had quite a bit to pay for after the scams and Korean restaurants in my opinion. When I walked off the bus, I asked who was going with me. Gina immediately said yes, as she was the most fed up with the tour next to me. As we started to walk off, Sally and Julie were a little shocked that we didn't explain our intentions of leaving the tour and apologize to the guide for wanting to leave.

While every time I left the tour I had made sure I knew where we were meeting and what time to be back, I never once felt the need to apologize for going off on my own. It's my tour, and as long as I didn't endanger, or delay anyone else by going off on my own, I felt no reason for my guide to be told. Gina seemed to feel the same way, but Sally made sure to tell our guide in a very polite tone we were going off on our own for the hour.

We did some shopping, avoided some rats, and tried to lose the roving diseased dogs while getting lost on a trek for some sequined elephant bags. My traveling companions had spotted these small black bags in Pataya, but hadn't purchased them. The entire rest of the trip they had been kicking themselves for not getting them, so we attempted to find a tourist sort of place where we might find them. Downtown Bangkok is not that sort of place. We returned to the tour empty handed, but at least we had some stories to tell.

We were taken to a another duty free shopping location, and I bailed on the tour yet again. I knew that we were going to be taken to a Korean restaurants that had signs posted all over the area, so I decided that this time I should look for a place to eat as I wandered alone.

I found a dingy, cafeteria style restaurant serving Thai dishes out of shallow metal tins. I walked up to the counter, pointed, and got whatever it was the cook thought I wanted. My plate was filled with rice, something green, and a strange spiked roll like meat of a rubbery texture. Small octopus and some vegetable items dotted my plate as well making for a colorful presentation. I sat down to eat and forked the few bites into my mouth quickly.

Some time after my tenth bite my mouth exploded in heat, and my bowls clenched like they had received a gunshot wound delivered straight from my palate. The entire plate was covered in the "rat shit" peppers that I had been so careful about limiting at other meals. I must have eaten more than what was available in all my previous dishes in a single forkful. I was going to pay for this later. I picked out the peppers best I could, finished off the dinner more out of spite for my tour guide than anything else, then went to find the tour.

They went to the Korean restaurant I had seen previously, so I went out walking yet again. I ended up running into Gina, who was still on her quest for a sequined bag. We decided to go to the Korean restaurant to see if anyone else was going to cut their dinner short to go out looking for the bags as well. We got our traveling companions to reconsider, and we headed out of the place (much to the shock of the entire rest of the restaurant) early.

After a fruitless search we ended up finding the elephant bags only after we had rejoined the tour, ironically enough. On our way to the last destination some street vendors started pimping their wears to the windows on the sides of the bus. My traveling companions gestured wildly that they should follow our bus, and when we arrived at the foot massage parlor a block away the vendors descended upon us like vultures. All told I think they ended up buying 15 of the bags total.

Since the massage was going to take another hour, I got out my GPS yet again, marked the location, and started off. This time I brought a total of 4 others with me, my independence and rebelliousness spreading to one adventurous older woman outside my group of travel companions (so I wish to believe). We got to do some price haggling, street vendor shopping (finally!).

I grabbed the near mandatory Che Gueavara t-shirt that every foreign English teacher returns from Thailand owning from a deaf mute street vendor. This is the second time (one other time happening in Seoul) that people selling t-shirts on the street were deaf mutes. It seemed that we had stumbled upon a whole street of deaf mute vendors, which was nice because they didn't harass you too much.

Once we got out of the deaf mute area, we were in the same old Bangkok. Everyone trying to make a buck off a few naive tourists. We scored a few souvenirs, then went back to the bus. The ride over to the airport was dull and uneventful.

Besides some drama trying to pay a "passport handling fee" (?!) that we didn't have enough Thai currency to cover, the customs process was uneventful as well. Other than some rude Americans while boarding the plane, we didn't have any problems in flight either. But, after we exited the plane, the "rat shit" peppers started to get their revenge.

I immediately headed for the nearest restroom after the flight, and tried to take care of the situation. I wasn't so worried about the stomach pain, as I had been getting sick and having it pass over time. The problem was a questionnaire I had to answer to get back into the country.

Since SARS hit Asia, everyone has to list the countries they went to, and check any of the listed symptoms on a "Health Questionnaire" to get back into Korea. The problem was, I happened to have several of the symptoms listed simply from the state my body had been in the past seven days that they wanted to know about. Upset Stomach. Check. Vomiting. Check. Lightheadedness. Check.

Fuck.

I filled out the form and checked "Upset Stomach." I smiled weakly as I handed the form to the awaiting official who eyed me suspiciously. I was the last person though customs from the entire plane, and I was holding my stomach like I had a 15 balloon cocaine enema inside . My hope that he would let me pass unquestioned seemed in doubt.

"Your stomach hurt, huh?" he asked me unsympathetically.

I smiled again and said "Spicy food. You know."

He turned to his companion and muttered my problem in Korean. He seemed to enjoy the agony I was in while I tried to mentally calculate the distance from the immigration line to the nearest toilet. I was afraid I was going to be probed or taken to some sort of room for examination and quarantine. This would not have been a good end to my vacation. Just when I think I need to turn around and go back to the last restroom I passed, he lets me though to the passport center. I thank him and scribble on my departure card my needed information hurriedly, all pretext of suspicion of infectious disease usurped by the rising geyser of gastrointestinal pressure pushing on my insides.

I make it through customs in time to run to the next bathroom. From their I gather my composure, get a bus ticket, and attempt to find Sally and Julie, who should have been waiting for me. After grabbing some medicine and finding them, we waited together to go back to Daejon. We ended up getting separated due to over-ticketed buses, with a kind couple giving me a seat they had reserved for their small child after witnessing my sorry state of health.

I was greeted with images of Typhoon Maemi, the typhoon that had hit south-eastern Korea a day before. This brings my natural disasters while traveling in Asia total up to three, with typhoon Isabel last year, a Japanese earthquake when I visited a few weeks ago, and now typhoon Maemi as I returned to Korea. I am Torgo, bringer of storms and natural disasters. Fear my vacation plans, for they will bring suffering and destruction.

Since this post is already a massive four page entry, I'll wrap up my final thoughts about Thailand and the tour in general and post pictures tomorrow.