“Care for some music?” the driver asked, as we entered the cab.
He ignited the engine and began driving.
The first accords of Hotel California played as we made our way through the broad streets. I was stuck to the window, trying to look at anything I could – the loaded bikes, the traffic, the gardens, people, churches with neon lights, houses, commercials.
Everything was too fast; soon we were on a plane. This cloud of humidity covered Vietnam as we flew away, and in a mere hour, we descended into Bangkok’s spider-like airport.
I couldn’t help but relive the first time we were there, so different than now. How excited I was, how open, and now just feeling a deep nostalgia to a country I’ve left an hour ago.
We took a fancier hotel for the last days of the trip, at the Khaosan, to indulge.
Bangkok stayed the same. The tourists were flocking the streets, backpackers and party-goers. Some Israeli families, as if we were closer to home.
It was only then when I saw how much I’ve changed.
We’ve spent those days traveling the city. The street-food was even better than I remembered, and now we both felt more confident to explore the deep, secret alleys and talk to people. Still, something about the locals seemed unreachable.
The time dripped, stretched, stopped. Those last few days took forever. I was torn between wanting to come back home or to start the journey again from the top, not that it mattered.
We landed in Israel. Both Roni’s and my parents waited for us and drove us home in separate cars. I sat in the back seat, looking at my mom’s and dad’s necks and heads. It was one of the few times I saw them together since the divorce. I wanted to speak but suddenly didn’t know how. They had this polite, passive-aggressive argument, about which roads to take.
It was about midnight as we parked. As I opened the car door, the smell of my city hit me – a hint of sea-salt mixed with hookah. The apartment stood quiet, waiting for us patiently.
It’s been four years since.
Life was crazy and scary and full of curiosity.
That job we were supposed to begin was canceled at the last moment, out of technical reasons. It was for the best.
For a month I sat by my computer, working on my portfolio and sending resumes. I had this occurring dream about seeing a caged lion being drowned.
So I dropped everything and made a pact with myself to never stop. This wind in my hair, those roads, the roaring bikes, the ocean, are all still withing me, and will always be.
So, my goal is to experience everything, try, explore, feel, take risks.
Some people think I’m afraid to grow up, and maybe that’s true, but I still can’t afford to lose my youth.
I’m just here because I’m a Lucky Bitch.