Bangkok is overwhelming. It’s an immense city full of shining glass skyscrapers and monorails, canals and temples, and food carts in the street selling everything from skewered chicken to fried stick bugs. The hotel my hosts were staying in happened to be on Soi Nana- a street famous for its ‘lady bars’ in the center of the city. This meant that walking home at night became its own type of sightseeing, watching the foreign men who come to Bangkok talking to these women in sky-high heels all along the street, as well as quite a few impressively beautiful and cosmetically-skilled ‘lady-boys’ as they’re called here. The neon lights and blaring American music from the bars and clubs along this street were a world away from the dirt streets of Nepal that I had just left.

My first mission upon arriving at the home of my hosts was to utilize Thailand’s great cheap healthcare- I needed some rabies vaccines. Three shots cost $375 each in the U.S., which in Bangkok they each only cost around $15. I couldn’t pass up that deal and made my way to the Hospital for Tropical Disease’s travel clinic. I highly recommend this form of medical tourism if you can do it! I found myself surrounded by quite a few weary backpackers who had come to load up on cheap vaccinations.

I’ve gone jogging in Lumphini Park, where massive monitor lizards slide off the path into the ponds and are known for eating the local street dog’s puppies.

I’ve taken a bicycle tour where I went from carefully picking my way through the narrow alleys full of hanging meats in China Town to carefully riding across elevated sidewalks through lemon grass and banana farms.

I’ve wandered through ‘Cowboy Street,’ infamous for its enticing women and transsexuals who stand in front of their respective clubs, plying you with free cover and more.

I’ve walked through beautiful temple grounds and taken off my shoes to enter them and look at statues of Buddha, whether massive and reclining or small and made of jade.

I’ve had a delicious traditional meal with my host’s family in their house on the edge of a gardenia farm.

I accidentally found myself in the middle of one of the large political protests here, and quickly made my way out (political strife seems to be following me wherever I go).

I have taken a tiny open boat through floating markets where sellers use long hooks to pull your vessel across the canal to their shop that can only be accessed in the water.

I have warily walked across the bridge over the River Kwai, nervous about looking through the large spaces in the slats below me down to the river below.

I have gone to the controversial Tiger Temple, where Buddhists monks raise tigers from cub-hood so that they are calm enough to take pictures with tourists, yet one can’t help but disbelieve their promises that the tigers are not drugged.

And I’ve also felt quite lonely. I struggled with this in Chitwan as well, but no matter how exciting travel can be it can also be profoundly alienating. Wandering alone for days on end can start to be draining after a while, and one struggles with the knowledge of how lucky you are to be doing what you’re doing, yet at the same time how you are wishing you could relax with loved ones just for a day. I have been told that this is a natural part of the experience, and in these moments of difficulty are when I will most grow and strengthen my spirit. Still, I am so thankful to be experiencing this country of contrasts.