Me Versus The Monster

Ahhh, yesterday was hell on wheels. When I woke in the morning the oscillating pressure, the tingle behind my eyes, the painful sensitivity to light, all had already begun. My evil nemesis, MIGRAINE.

The first four hours in the minibus from Phuket to Surat Thani were hellish enough. Minibuses are cramped and sweaty nightmares, lacking in air conditioning and body space. I was half-psychotic by the time we arrived. Then came a two hour wait at a sort of way-station in the middle of nowhere, and then came the VIP bus.

VIP busses aren't that bad, usually, as long as we're not on them for too long of a time, and we're sitting up high and away from the bathrooms. They're double-decker and they play movies (last night was Apollo 13). However, they're no good to sleep in, even when the person next to me is my boyfriend. There' was just no comfortable position any way I contorted myself, and anytime I felt myself drifting off, Bryson would shift and suddenly my head would slide down his knee, or he'd attempt to lay his double-my-weight body across my lap, or some body part would begin to ache-- a kneecap, a shoulder. And these three friggin' Israeli guys were rattle-a-tatting Hebrew in their outdoor voices as late as three in the morning. And even though we were far from the bathrooms, a fine miasma of sewage began to permeate the air.

But worst of all was my headache. Banging, pounding, glass and tears. All I had was Tylenol, and four didn't even begin to assuage my agony. Using Tylenol for a migraine is like attempting to douse a forest fire with a squirt gun. The creature only laughs.

Hours and hours of misery. Praying, even. Bangkok, city of stench, became a mental Mecca. All I wanted was a hotel room, where I could sleep supine. Sleep is the only thing that makes the headache pass, and sometimes I even wake to find it hasn't passed entirely. And the terrible nausea that comes with it. It doesn't relinquish its hold on my gut until I've thrown up everything inside.

At five-thirty in the morning we arrived on Khao San road. With tears in my eyes, I followed Bryson to the first hotel that had a vacancy. As soon as we received our key I dashed upstairs and into the bathroom headfirst, then on my knees. Throwing up is the worst when you've got a headache. We slept for about six hours, and when I woke up it was still there. However, it was dormant enough for me to go down and have a meal and a popsicle before going back to bed. Bryson went for a massage.

Now all that's left is a strange tenderness, a shadow of the beast, a reminder that I have to get my ass to a doctor and figure this thing out.

This evening, we walked up and down Khao San road. There's so much to buy it's incredible, and not like Central America, either. The clothing here is American quality and an American quality of cuteness. It's all we can do to restrain ourselves, because tomorrow we're going to Cambodia for a few days, but when we get back we're going to buy as much as we can carry. Khao San at night is like a second-rate Vegas strip, a revolucion without the three-story nightclubs and painted donkeys. Like TJ, some people despise is here, but I embrace the craziness. It's an explosion of humanity. Although not the best headache remedy.

I'm not sure how readily internet will be available in Cambodia, although Siem Reap, where Angkor Wat is, is the most touristy place in the country. I might possibly disappear for a while. But this place is supposed to be one of the most fantastic in creation, and so I'm bubbling over to see it.