Thailand Relations - Part One

Every February for many years, my dad and Uncle Dave made the long journey half way around the globe from the east coast of the USA to Thailand to visit with their brother, Richard.

Daddy-O, Uncle Dave, and Uncle Richard are all deceased now, along with their three sisters.

The first to go was Aunt Ginny. She was in her thirties when she suddenly left her earthly body, husband, and three children. My sister and I tried to reach Aunt Ginny (and our deceased dog) through our own version of a seance. We did not receive a response so, for me it felt like a not-very-fun game.

Ginny's death ripped through the sibling core. I think they didn't know what to do with this unimaginable new reality. I'd say that's when and why our family-reunion-type gatherings stopped. Before Aunt Ginny's death we'd get together annually - the aunts and uncles, cousins... even pets. After Aunt Ginny's death, we visited with one family at-a-time, once-in-a-while, usually going to their house (not them to ours). Some sibling families I didn't see again, such as Uncle Richard's family. (Though that may have been for different reasons).

Aunt Hope and Aunt June died years later. The three sisters were all gone. There were three brothers left. When Uncle Richard died (in 2002), Dad and Uncle Dave continued their annual trek to Thailand... for a decade... until Uncle Dave was too ill to travel. All my aunts and uncles had left the earthly plane - all gone save my dad and Uncle Dave.

Surprisingly, Daddy-O was the first to die (in May 2001). My dad and his brother, Dave, talked on the phone every night. When Dad died, I called Uncle Dave. "I'll be your daily phone call," I said. I knew my call would not be the same as his brother's - no where close - but still... it was the only solace I could offer - for both of us. I treasured our daily phone calls. They kept both Uncle Dave and my dad alive for me... until Uncle Dave died, three months later.

My heart is tender thinking of them all.

As a girl, I witnessed the ease, respect, care, and joy these siblings felt for each other. I did not hear disagreements. There was no backstabbing, no competition. Maybe they were close because they grew up in an orphanage. I imagine these 3 brothers and 3 sisters living in an orphanage needed to have each other's backs.

I like to think that wherever they are now, in whatever form, they're contently happy to be together again.

I miss my dad. He was one of my three go-to people. The other two are gone, too. This year around Dad's birthday (January 16), the thought of traveling to Thailand emerged.

Uncle Richard lived in Thailand because his (2nd) wife (or long-term partner) was Thai. I don't know where in Thailand Uncle Richard and his wife (or partner) lived or where Daddy-O and Uncle Dave stayed for their month-long visits. I don't know if she was his official wife or live-in partner. Even though Daddy-O said Uncle Richard's wife/partner's name (often enough), my memory will not pull it up. So, I don't know her name.

I do remember Daddy-O saying that, after Richard's death, he and Dave tried to help her receive Richard's US social security and military benefits... and that she moved into a house near the bridge over the River Kwai.

The Bridge over the River Kwai was a novel and 1957 academy award-winning movie. The fictional plot was based on the construction of the Burma Railway during WWII. I consider all well-made war movies devastating. I consider this movie quite horrible to watch. Whatever any of us thinks about "The Bridge over the River Kwai," the name is memorable. So, I remembered this piece of information. Uncle Richard's wife/partner lived by the bridge over the River Kwai. That's all the information I had.

Being in Thailand, I wondered about her. I don't know if she's still living there (wherever "there" is) or living at all. I didn't consider these questions when I first arrived in Thailand. These thoughts came to me about five days in.

When I first arrived at the airport in Bangkok, Thailand, I needed to apply for an "arrival card." I found a group of people in a crowded clump, clamoring to get to five machines. I quickly realized that one machine didn't work, that the process (at the machine) took time, and that the (probably equally exhausted as I felt) crowd of travelers were frustrated and in a state of mayhem. I calmly and easily organized us into one line using a form of made-up universal sign language, communicated with the person in line behind/next to me that one machine didn't work (information she passed down the line), and suggested (to her) that we use our time to enjoy each other. She liked that and passed that joy along too. One-by-one, the crowd calmed and felt more friendly. Then it was my turn at a machine.

On the application I was asked my exiting flight number. I had not booked an exit flight from Thailand. I travel spontaneously, purchasing one-way airfare as I go. I skipped the question and hoped for the best. If there are Thai Travel Gods, they must have been listening and feeling kind, for I was granted an arrival card. Gratefully, I silently bowed to Buddha.

After receiving my arrival card and getting through customs, I picked up my checked luggage. There, I spotted a very cute foursome of flight attendants and asked if I could take their picture. In this picture, their luggage is blocking their long shorts. Those hats... those shirts... those matching long shorts. At the risk of sounding like a 1980's Valley Girl... Oh My Gaaaawd(ess)! Vietjet Air flight attendant outfits are (like) the most adooorable uniforms, EVeeeR! Aside from how they looked in their outfits, these young women shared with me the friendliest, warmest smiles. It was a sweet welcome to Thailand.

Finally (after being cold in Crete and then Antalya), I walked outside into balmy 90-something degree Fahrenheit air. There, I waited for my Uber driver.

I waited for what felt like a very long time. I called him, a few times. He said he spoke English, but it was a version I did not understand. I did not understand that I needed to go back inside the airport to a particular counter that would call him. At one point, I asked a woman to help. She talked with him on my phone, then walked me inside to the counter where I needed to show my reserved ride. After that, it was a matter of minutes before he showed up. He put my baggage into the trunk and guided me to sit in the back seat (passenger side).

My Uber driver was young, cute, and (though I still did not understand his version of English) super helpful. While driving, he used Google Translate to ask me about myself and my interests, and told me about places I might want to visit while in Thailand. When I told him about my dad and uncles, and about not knowing why I was in Thailand - that more would be revealed - he said, "your story is like a movie!"

When I use Google Translate, I use the microphone. I speak into the phone in English. Then, when what I said has been translated into whatever language it's set to, I click the translated section's microphone. I turn up the volume on my phone as high as it will go. A woman's voice speaks in the chosen language out loud - loud enough for a driver to clearly hear Ms. Google Translate from my phone in the back seat.

I'm observing that other people tend to type what they want translated, then show me their phone to read the English version of whatever they wrote. It was a bit frightening watching my helpful Thai taxi driver text and drive, turn to me with his translation and look at me while waiting for my response - drifting between lanes and almost hitting a stopped car in front of us. An hour later, when we arrived at our destination, I applauded and cheered like he had landed our aircraft after a rough flight. Namaste hands at the heart; thank you, Buddha.

I had booked one night at the ARNI HER Ladies Hotel - a women's hostile. It was advertised as a "space to connect." I imagined meeting other solo women travelers who would illuminate where I would travel to next. When I arrived, I was exhausted. I upgraded from a 4-bed dorm to a private room and paid more to get into that room early. The extra cost was worth every Thai bhat spent.

After resting, I wandered inside the hostel-hotel. It was evident that the ARNI HER theme was rabbits.

I wondered, after seeing a painting of rabbits playing around the moon, if the theme came from the "Moon Rabbit."

Different cultures see different images in the moon due to lunar pareidolia. In the USA, people look up at the moon, see a face, and call it "the man in the moon." In Thailand, people look up and see "the moon rabbit."

I remembered Sekhar (originally from India) talking about this. I was living in Florida, USA with Captain Mike. "Here," Sekhar had said (while we were looking up at a full moon), "you see a face." "Turn your head, like this," he said, showing me which way to tilt my head, "and you can see a rabbit. That's what we see in India. We don't see the man in the moon. We see the rabbit in the moon."

I wandered upstairs in the ARNI HER hotel to the common areas: a couple of small rooms with cushions and chairs, an exercise room, a kitchen-snack-coffee area, a laundry room, a make-up room. There were a half dozen young women, each in a separate room, each on her phone or otherwise preoccupied, quietly doing her own thing. None looked up while I walked around. It did not feel like a meeting place. It did not seem like a place where I'd gain inspiration as to where to go next. I walked back downstairs.

The first thing I did was to ask at the hotel desk where there was an ATM to get money. Next, I asked where the closest therapeutic massage could be procured. It was next door. After thanking the extremely young and sweet concierge, I walked (literally) next door and made a two-hour massage appointment for 9 pm, one-hour from that moment.

Bangkok was a hot, bustling city. It was interesting to note that, though 7-Eleven stores have gone out of business in the USA, they are alive and well in Thailand. There seem to be 7-Eleven stores on just about every block. I saw 7-Eleven delivery motorbikes. Researching Airbnb and hotels, listings stated how close they were to the nearest 7-Eleven. In Thailand, 7-Eleven has surpassed the USA McDonalds empire, by far.

I walked to the train station where there was an ATM machine and withdrew the equivalent of $400...12,470.80 Tai bahts. I stopped into a lowkey-looking Dim Sum restaurant for a light meal that was... not what I expected. I thought I ordered what looked like steamed salmon. I got two bite-sized steamed pork balls, each with what I imagine might have been a small strip of thin, dried salmon on top. When in a new land that uses a language I don't speak, I am learning it's best to be ok with whatever happens. I'm not great at this concept. Sometimes I'm better at being ok with what I don't expect than I am at other times. This was one of my better days. I ate the odd little balls and thought, good enough. Part of my positive attitude may have been that I knew I would soon be receiving a massage.

I walked back to my hotel, showered, and walked next door for my Thai massage. It was both painful and illuminated that I am not altogether ok. It will take a lot before I'm grounded.

After the massage, I went back to my hotel room and set up my laptop for our online meditation group, starting (in Thailand) at midnight (12 pm eastern time US/Canada). The internet connected, but, for some reason, not to my meditation group. After walking 3 floors of the ARNI HER hotel with my laptop in hand, unable to connect, I took it as a sign and resigned back to my room. My brain switched from meditation mode to "where am I going next" search mode.

While in Antalya, Turkey, a seed was planted. The man I first met (who let me into the apartment) met me again at the end of my stay, to retrieve the apartment keys. When he heard I was flying to Thailand he said, "If I were going to Thailand, I'd go to Phuket. It's a dream of mine. It looks so beautiful there."

At that point, I had already purchased my plane ticket to Bangkok (earlier that day). At that moment, hearing his words, I felt like I had made a mistake. I recalled that when I was deciding where in Thailand to land, I saw Phuket as an option and thought "yes." The inner voice was subtle, and a stressed part of me wanted to land in Bangkok - because it sounded familiar. When this man from Antalya shared his dream, I thought, Stressed part, we need to listen and trust Inner Guidance.

In my room at the ARNI HER hostel-hotel in Bangkok, wondering where to go next, the seed that had been planted in Antalya began to sprout. I bought a plane ticket to Phuket, booked the one night available in a hotel that had a bathtub, and arranged for an airport transfer upon arrival.

The airfare from Bangkok to Phuket was more expensive than I thought it would be. In Antalya, when Inner Guidance wanted me to fly directly to Phuket (and the stressed part did not), I had checked how much it would cost to fly from Bangkok to Phuket. At that time, the cost was about $50. Oh, that's ok, I had thought. I booked my ticket from Turkey to Bangkok, figuring that if I decided to fly from Bangkok to Phuket the added cost would be easy to swallow. Now, the total cost for a plane ticket from Bangkok to Phuket was $123.10. For some reason, the number seemed ominous. Still, I booked it.

The next day, I took a taxi (graciously arranged for by the ARNI HER hotel) to the airport. As an aside, the taxi driver was very different from the first. She remained silent, with two hands on the wheel, looking straight ahead, driving very carefully. I felt very safe.

Earlier, when booking the taxi, the friendly, helpful, young woman behind the hostel-hotel counter asked which airport I was going to. I thought it was a strange question. I had flown into BKK the day before. I ignorantly figured BKK was the one and only airport in Bangkok. This train of thinking flashed through my brain in less than a split second. I did not allow time to consider more thoughts and ignored the intimation of her question. I quickly said, "BKK."

Halfway into the taxi ride, I thought about the question: "which airport?" I considered exploring the thought with my taxi driver. She was focused on being a safe driver. I figured she would not want to talk with me. I brushed my wondering thought aside.

GPS had shown BKK to be a 35-minute drive. My super helpful concierge at the hostel-hotel had told me that, with traffic and tolls, it would more realistically be a 45-60 minute trip. I planned an hour for the drive, and an arrival time (at BKK airport) of one hour before my flight. I have learned that an hour is plenty of time for a domestic flight. I arrived at BKK at my predicted time. Spot-on, I proudly thought, Plenty of time.

It would have been plenty of time, if I had been at the correct airport.

I realized I was at the wrong airport when I asked at the information desk, "Where can I find Nokair?" "We do not have that company here," the woman answered, "They're at the other airport."

The other airport, I learned, was called Don Mueang International Airport (DMK), and it was an hour's drive away from BKK. I had a deer-in-the-headlights moment. Then I breathed, calmed myself down, and thought. I will miss my flight, my ticket is non-refundable, and so... I may as well find out about flights from this airport. "Where can I find out about flights to Phuket from here," I asked. I ended up in the security office, where, interestingly, they also book tickets. I booked a (second) flight - from BKK (to Phuket).

Judge me if you will. I certainly judged myself. This time, though, I did not have a total meltdown. (There was a bit of internal freak-out, but not for long). Remember that major stressful mess-up I had back at the very beginning of my travels, at the Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris? I learned from that. This time, I told myself it's only money; there's no need to stress; just buy another ticket. I'm sure I will learn from this experience, too. I would like to learn to take time to check the details, especially when someone clues you in that there are more details, more choices to consider.

Flying to Phuket...

Research is not usually helpful for me. I can spend hours online looking up places to go, places to stay, etc... and not feel drawn to any of what I'm seeing. It often feels overwhelming or meaningless. So... I rely on the energy/Spirit to move me. I want to meet someone who invites me into their life. I want to learn something and grow to be a better version of my Self. I want my heart to soften, and a deep sense of love to emanate from me. I want Spirit helping drive my life.

When I'm not aware that Spirit is here, though, "spontaneous travel" is uncomfortable and insecure-making. Waiting for "the energy/Spirit to move me" means that, sometimes, I don't know where I'm going or, when I get a hit to travel somewhere, it is not evident why I'm going there.

I had booked one night at the Boutique Resort Private Pool Villa. When I arrived, the hotel staff said they had one other room available for the next two nights. I preferred not to move my stuff to another room, especially for only two nights. I told the concierge, "I'll wait till the morning to decide if I'll stay longer."

In my room, I got onto my laptop to research where to go next, hoping for a long stay (1-2 months) where I could settle in and get back to feeling grounded. Everything I found was either not what I wanted (such as a shared room with shared bathroom in the middle of some cityscape that felt soulless or otherwise uninteresting) or more expensive than I'd planned for.

My dad boasted that he could fly roundtrip business class to Thailand, stay in a 5-star hotel for a month, eat three 5-star meals a day, and get 4-hours of Thai massage a day (plus his happy ending extras) for a total cost of $3,000. None of that style of living is what I'm used to or looking for. Still, it gave me a baseline of what to expect. Come to learn those days, my dear Daddy-O, are long gone.

Spirit was not moving me. Nothing was moving me. I felt a bit stuck.

I took a break to eat in the restaurant by the pool. There, I met three fellow travelers who were also figuring out what to do next. I wondered if we might end up traveling together. The conversation didn't go that way, though I was open to what may come.

After eating, I got back on my laptop to search for housing. I found a hotel that seemed like a nice spot to land. It seemed clean, well kept, there was a pool, and they offered a free shuttle to the airport (for the next leg). They did not include meals or any other extras. On Booking.com, in Thai Bahts, it sounded doable, so I booked it. Then, my credit card company contacted me about a fraud alert, wondering if I just spent over $5,000 on a purchase. I obviously had miscalculated, undid the booking (without losing too much money), and was back to my search.

At midnight, I was able to join my one-hour online meditation group, which I was pleased about. At 1 am, I stood in my villa living room, looking around. I should take time to enjoy this place, I thought. It was rather expensive, about $150/night... not my usual $20/night or free stay. I want to stay because there was a bathtub. I should use the bathtub, I thought. The pool was mighty cool, too, like a lap pool that lined the back of the villas. I weighed my clothing options. I didn't want to unpack just to find my bathing suit and didn't think it wise to travel the next day with a wet suit. It was quiet. Everyone seemed to be asleep. I took off my clothes, stepped (naked) out of my apartment-villa back door into the water, and swam, looking up at the stars lining the open path between the palm trees on either side of the long pool. It had been a stressful two weeks. My skin and bones were holding a lot of built-up stress. The world did not feel like an inviting place to live in. Still, I thought this is worth something. I swam and floated... then, inside, upstairs, took a long, hot bath.

The next morning, when I still hadn't found a place to sleep that night, I decided to stay put. I would gather my stuff, move into the available room, suck it up and pay the money, and stay two more nights. One night is not enough time, I thought ...to settle in and relax, to take advantage of the free shuttle to the beach, to figure out where to go next. I need more time. On my way to the concierge I saw my fellow travelers. They told me they decided to stay two more nights and seemed mighty relaxed with their decision. Inside, I learned the last available room had been taken.

I went back to my room, packed my stuff, brought it all to the front desk, and set up my laptop to figure out where I was going next.

On Airbnb, I found what seemed a good spot. It was a lot cheaper than other places, per night. From the pictures, it looked like it had once been a grand hotel. From the reviews, it sounded like it had been and was now in disrepair. There were single rooms with private bathrooms, each with... a bathtub. Sold. I texted back and forth with the manager about staying for a month (to get the best deal), who suggested I book the 3-night minimum before deciding to stay a month, and that is exactly what I did. I waited an hour or so for an available taxi and took the 45-minute ride to the SBAC College Hotel. It was indeed in disrepair, though... bathtub.

When I'm not grounded and present, it takes me a while to notice my surroundings. It took two days for me to realize that the hotel I was in was a medical cannabis facility. They grew cannabis, created oils and tinctures, dispensed their wares, housed two doctors, one (on one side of the building) who was a naturopath and the other (on the other side of the building) who was a physical therapist, and treated patients. What (finally) clued me in was an ambulance dropping off a patient from the nearby Bangkok Hospital in front of our hotel. I saw and asked a man - the owner's husband - about it. He was German, living here with his wife, in Thailand. He told me that "patients come here for treatment." "Sometimes," he said, "they stay during recovery. When they don't have money, they stay and are treated for free."

Talking with him, I finally took notice of the enormous signage all around us about the history and healing qualities of cannabis and this once grand hotel.

The first night at the SBAC College Hotel, I walked up to the roof and called Ash. I was lucky to catch them awake (at 9:30 am their time). At 9:30 pm from where I stood in Thailand, there was a full moon reflecting across the pool. I took a picture and sent it by text.

"Nice, Bop Bop," Ash said and texted me two memes. We talked about the memes, what and how we were doing, and how January 15 (the week before) was a tough day. January 15 is the anniversary of my friend Jessica's passing and more relevant to Ash, the anniversary of Barry's death (Ash's dad). Ash said it helped that we had texted.

Ash tends to wake up around 1-3 pm and spends their time online with friends. I don't want to be a bother, so tend to wait for Ash to reach out to me. Our texts (and phone calls) tend to be far apart, short and to the point, sometimes with space between replies. On January 15, our texting went like this:

Ash: "How are you handling today?"

Me: "Yeah, I was wondering that same question for you. How's today for you?"

Me: "You wanna talk?"

Ash: "I'm fine and not right now."

Me: "Ok Sweetie. I'm gonna head to bed. It's 2 am here."

Ash: "Sleep well."

Me: "Thank you, my love. I hope your day unfolds tenderly. I love you so much."

Ash: "Love you too Bop Bop."

Turns out, that was enough to help Ash get through the day.

That night on the phone I told Ash, "I can see the moon because I'm 12 hours ahead of you. I can show you what's coming! It's so pretty. See...?"

"That's pretty, Bop Bop," Ash said. Sometimes I don't know if Ash is saying appropriate words while doing other things, or is really paying attention and being authentic. This one felt authentic. I said, "We're under the same moon."

At some point, I said, "I think I'm ready to get some food. " "Ok, Bop Bop," Ash said, "Have a nice meal and be safe walking." At the end of every phone call, Michelle used to say "Have fun, Mommy." At the end of every conversation with Ash (having lost both parents), they say "Be safe, Bop Bop."

After hanging up, I (carefully) walked into town and found a hot pot restaurant. I had never been to such a place and asked for advice. The staff helped me pick out a liquid base. A couple of patrons across the way helped name the rotating choices. They didn't know what all the food items were and we exchanged Google Search results. It was quite an entertaining process.

After my late night dinner I went "home," took a long, hot bath, and slept till... I have no idea what time I woke. It was nurturing to wake slowly.

That first day, I walked through town. Of course there was a 7-Eleven on every corner.

In the window of a pet store I saw the bling-est cat paraphernalia and two cats and a kitten so cute I didn't know if they were real. I stood and stared till the kitten moved.

Next door (from the pet store) was a "weed" store.

And in front of just about every home and store was a "good luck" shrine.

There were many open food markets with fruit for sale.

About 45 minutes later, up a long, steep hill, I found the Thai Buddhist temple that houses the Big Buddha. Before walking up the temple steps to the Big Buddha, there were instructions how to pray and a store to purchase the necessary items to perform the ritual correctly.

The Wat Khao Rung Samukkheethum Temple had a lot to explore.

I wanted to start with the Big Buddha.

I have a fondness for bells. The bell tower was AWEsome.

I also marveled in the prayer room, at the bells, gongs, and drums.

I entered the temple (across the way, downstairs) and was quickly ushered out - most likely because I was wearing a shirt with string straps and my shoulders were exposed.

It was ok to walk around the building and inside the space above, though.

There was a lot to see. I took a good amount of pictures. I'll put together a video of all the pictures and add it at the end of this blog. For now, what say ye we move on with the day?

Further (up hill) I walked to a park that was said to be a destination viewpoint (with monkeys hanging out in the parking lot and trees).

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/f56491_57cf5189a8b64086980bcad2e4ec0c21/1080p/mp4/file.mp4

It was getting late in the day at that point, and I hadn't eaten yet, so I stopped at the restaurant there. Of course, there was a big shrine for the restaurant's good luck.

I started with a mango juice...

...and ate ("not spicy") Tom Yum seafood soup.

As I walked back "home" the sun was setting.

The next day, I walked about 45 minutes to the "old town." I had been told to go to the Sunday Street Market, that started at 4 pm. I thought I'd spend the day exploring before the market started.

I got a reflexology session...

...danced with an older Thai woman to a karaoke singer in the local cultural center. If you'd like to hear the karaoke singer, check out the video (at the end of this blog)!

...checked out another Thai Buddhist temple...

And finally, joined the street market...

There, I was joyfully surprised to find a busker playing Santana...

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/f56491_b05d3bde17a54c998303d40401b2d31c/720p/mp4/file.mp4

I also checked out an "art installation" park...

...where I met two of the artists...

Walking home, I checked out more of "my (new) town" at night...

The next day (the day I left Phuket), I took a taxi to a place where I rode on an adult elephant and hugged a baby elephant. While it was truly a pleasure to be that close to such magnificent creatures, it was sad to see elephants raised in captivity, chained, trained, and not free.

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/f56491_fe97bd56f94d4f0383971ab20847c895/1080p/mp4/file.mp4

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/f56491_afef5d2946c6480fb8c37f703af4d96e/1080p/mp4/file.mp4

It was while staying at the SBAC College Hotel that I thought about Uncle Richard's wife/partner. I wonder where in Thailand she is... if she's alive... how can I find out.

I looked on Airbnb for places to stay near the Bridge over the River Kwai (in the Kanchanaburi district). I imagined standing by the bridge, wearing a sign on my chest with my dad's name on it. Surely, I thought, someone will recognize his name. (What can I say? I have magical thinking).

I booked a stay at TB Campo in Phang Tru - a rural region outside of Kanchanaburi, west of Bangkok. From Phuket, I took an overnight bus north to Bangkok and then another bus west to Kanchanaburi... a 20-hour trip. The overnight bus was cold... so cold, people had blankets over their heads. The seats did not go back very far and there was no way to put your feet up. There was a woman speaking to what seemed her friend (sitting next to her) or on the phone. Her voice was constant, loud and shrill... like a few mosquitoes in each ear. I did not sleep.

Late the next morning, we arrived at the Bangkok bus station. According to my ticket, the bus station we were at was the North Bus Station. I planned this, because my connecting bus would be leaving from the North Bus Station. I feel proud about little things like booking tickets at the correct bus station. The problem was, I was not at the North Bus Station.

After unsuccessfully trying to communicate with staff at the wrong bus station, I silently relinquished my pre-purchased, non-refundable, connecting bus ticket, purchased another ticket (on a mini bus), and continued my (3.5 hour) trip to Kanchanaburi.

My Airbnb host, Teerawan, texted that her employee, Mr. Tin, would meet me at the bus station. "He doesn't speak English, only Thai," she wrote.

At the Kanchanaburi bus station, Mr. Tin found me, holding out his phone with a picture of me (that I had sent Teerawan) to confirm we were who we were each looking for. He loaded my bags into the car, and drove me through the town to the Bridge over the River Kwai.

I was hungry, so Mr. Tin and I went to the restaurant by the river.

Across the water was an impressive statue. Mr. Tin told me that she was an icon of mercy.

I could use Mercy, I thought, and silently sent her a prayer request to the enormous gorgeous stone Goddess.

After I ate my meal and Mr. Tin finished his coffee, he texted me (through Google Translate) "I'll take you to your home. You can come back to search tomorrow." I appreciated that I didn't need to explain what I was doing here, or that my energy was crashing.

Last Friday, during our online meditation group, one of our meditation family members, Joan, asked, "Ami, are you ok?" Without honestly considering my answer, I said, "yeah, I'm good." Honestly, though, I was not "good." I have not been "good" since I left Crete. Not until last night.

Last night, after sitting in meditation with Buddhist monks at the nearby temple in Phang Tru, I came "home" to find a message from my cousin Barry. Teerawan had told me I did not have enough information to find my Uncle's wife/partner. I had texted my brother, sister, and cousins, asking if anyone knew her name or had photos. Radio silence. Nothing. Then Barry texted.

He had found pictures. One was what I think is an older version of Uncle Richard's wife/partner, standing in front of a picture of her younger self, standing next to a young Uncle Richard. I asked Barry if he knew her name. He texted, "Ying, I believe." He sent two more pictures of a temple where Uncle Richard may have been buried, and the house across the street. Maybe that was Ying's house.

For the first time, my heart lightened. My spirit lifted. I felt purpose. I felt an adventure unfolding. I was finally, really, ok.

In the next blog, I'll share about the unfolding mystery of finding my auntie... who's name is "Ing" (not Ying)... who I found, and am now spending time every day with, in Pattaya.

And here is a YouTube link to the promised video...

https://youtu.be/Ok5h7ME4mho