Arriving in Bangkok after some 20 odd hours on 4 different planes, I was surprisingly alert. I was traveling again, finally, after all this time. The heat hits you right when you enter the airport, somehow seeping through the sound-proofed windows. It seems bearable at first, but when you exit the airport you realize that the room you just left was "air conditioned" and just a tenth of the actual humidity. You can't get away from it. Shade helps a little, fans a little more, but the humidity hangs on you like a thick blanket. Now imagine this carrying a 40 lbs backpack and you have some idea of my day to day.

I managed to avoid the shouting taxi drivers and hotel handlers that lie in wait just beyond customs and slowly worked my way to the central bus station which is in walking distance from the airport (Taking a bus versus a cab saved me about 20$, but you can decide later if it was worth it.). Right away, I was made to realize how helpless I was. It was sheer ignorance, but it had never occurred to me that the signage in Asia would not be written in English. Thai lettering looks like Sanskrit and the average Thai (one who is not an airport employee or hospitality staff) may speak a few words of English, but not much beyond "hi" and "Where are you from?". So I began, what has become my bus routine. I offer mints, candies, gum, whatever I have to any local sitting around me, then I open my guide book and point at my destination like one of those gorillas who can use sign language. Usually, I can vocalize something close to its name (My book contains phonetic language keys which are semi-accurate.). With the help of many, I made it to what I was told was near Khao San Road, which is the traditional backpacker haunt in Bangkok. I was dropped in front of a closing street market, across from a Red Shirt** protest, as the sun was setting. I learned then that no matter what form of transport I use, be it taxi, bus or tuk-tuk (motorized rik-shaw), I am always left blocks from my actual destination. So again, in the heat, lost and jet-lagged, I wandered through the streets of Bangkok doing my gorilla pointing thing until I stumbled upon Khao San Road. I elected what I hoped was a reasonably priced hostel room (12$ for my own room with a fan). Sadly, my first meal in Thailand was McDonalds, if only because their menu bridged the language divide.

**The Red Shirts are supporters of disposed Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra who is in exile in Hong Kong. They are calling for new elections as the current government was installed following a coup (which the opposition deemed necessary as Thaksin and his wife we accused of stealing millions in government funds). In simplistic terms, they represent the working class: farmers, cab drivers, shop owners, etc. The Royalists or Yellow Shirts (Whom staged a similar protest some years back by blocking the main airport - something I hope is not repeated as my return flight is also out of Bangkok.) are supports of the current Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva and are generally thought of as middle or upper class. I had always associated the word coup with extreme violence, but from what I can tell, the protest have been massive but peaceful. Perhaps this is because the Thais have done this a few times before (20 coup attempts since 1932; roughly 1 every 4 years)