Khawp Kuhn.

BANGKOK, Thailand — One of my first thoughts about Thailand was, "This is just like Vietnam!" Strangely, I've never been to Vietnam, but almost everything I've ever learned about it comes from one of my favorite movies — Good Morning Vietnam, starring Robin Williams — which, of course, was actually filmed in Thailand. But, it's almost all here: the spicy fish balls that Robin eats, weather so hot that "little guys with their orange robes burst into flames," and the worst traffic anyone has ever seen. About the only thing that's missing is Robin Williams, but he's probably off doing heroin somewhere. In Thailand. Maybe he's here after all.

The experience of visiting Thailand is so different from the experience of vacationing in Europe and even that of visiting other developing countries, it's hard for me to know where to begin. First, I have met very few people in Thailand that speak English. This might not seem that important, but consider this: first, I don't speak Thai, at all; second, Thai as a written language doesn't use latin characters, making every sign and written word impossible for me to read (see a photo of one a street-signs I tried to use to find the National Museum, inline); third, while (sometimes) the phonetic spelling of road names or sight names are provided, the pronunciations are subject to interpretation both by the guide books and native Thai-speakers. As a result, finding off-the-beaten-path destinations takes me about twice as much time as it does when I travel in Europe (where most everyone in urban areas speaks English). I can't manage to get anyone to point at a map — I'm not sure if they've never seen a map (unlikely) or they just don't know their location. Of course, there are some English-speakers that work at hotels like The Oriental that cater to Westerners, but for the most part, it's impossible to get directions or advice from anyone.

I'm not being critical; I understand how ridiculous it is for me to visit a country when I don't speak a word of the language. But it does make everything a lot more fun.

I have learned one thing so far: khawp kuhn means "Thank you." Because it's the only thing I know how to say, I say it all the time. When I say it, it usually makes Thais giggle (due to the humor of my pronunciation being bad and their delight in my making any effort at all), which provides me with an extra incentive to say it even more. When I get in a miniature, motorized taxi (called a tuk tuk), when I get fried pork from street vendors, when a Thai girl says (barely) in English, "You quite handsome," and when someone sells me a ticket to see a giant golden Buddah, I excitedly say khawp kuhn. A Thai girl tried to teach me to say "sorry" today, but I haven't quite mastered it yet. It's next on my list.

You should visit Thailand just for the food. Seriously. I just ate a Thai chicken/rice dish made by a woman in a "restaurant" that was better than any Thai dish I've ever eaten in the states. Of course, I had no idea what I was ordering because I couldn't understand her and she couldn't understand me, but in general, whatever arrives from Thai cooks is always tasty, so I don't worry. I use the term restaurant loosely — the place was more like a concrete hole in a wall with serving dishes on a table spilling out into the street — but that's not the point; the meal cost only 35 Baht (about 89 US cents).

Breakfast at the famous Oriental Hotel on Bangkok's Chao Phraya River

Not only that, but my hotel ("guesthouse") room for tonight cost 150 Baht ($3.80 US), the Thai airlines flight I took to Mae Sot from Bangkok was 1900 Baht ($47 US), and the following five-hour bus ride cost only 157 Baht ($3.92 US). Another one of my favorite discrepancies is the metered taxi ride from the Bangkok airport to downtown. The taxi ride from Newark to Manhattan costs about $65 US. The (longer) trip from the Bangkok airport to Bangkok's Old City is 97 Baht ($2.43 US). I even got a traditional Thai massage yesterday for — you guessed it — $4 US. No, not that kind of massage.

Obviously, there are some exceptions to these prices — I started my trip by staying at the famous Oriental Hotel on the river in Bangkok (see inline photo), which charges only somewhat-discounted Western-style prices. Touted by every guidebook (even the budget-oriented Lonely Planet) as a required-stop on any world tour and one of the best hotels in the world, I couldn't resist a bit of luxury after a 20-hour plane flight. (I usually tend to switch-off on trips between backpacker-hostels and more expensive hotels to experience both worlds.) The Oriental was frequented in the early 20th century by writers like Joseph Conrad and Ernest Hemingway, and it's said that the hotel can single-handedly cure writer's block. I can't testify to this because I didn't have writer's block when I arrived, but I can say that more than almost any other hotel I've been, The Oriental recreates the feeling of opulence that the upper-class experienced in the early 1900s. Being in the hotel feels eerily similar to what it must have felt like to ride first-class on the Titanic. Except for the drowning part, of course.

As long as I don't stay any more nights at the Oriental, at this rate, I'll never run out of money. Ever. I understand better why people come to vacation in Thailand and end up never leaving — more on that in another installment. I used to think of Whole Foods as an overpriced grocery store. Now, I think of it as the most ludicrously priced place to buy food on the planet.

For years in the United States, we've been getting raped at the grocery store, pillaged at hotels, and simply stolen from by the airlines. It's time to fight back. Next time you visit Whole Foods, try to convince them you're only willing to pay 35 Baht for a grilled Italian Panini and a Jamba Juice. It might work.

I'm never leaving Thailand. Ever.

Bangkok's famous Khao San Road

Just testing. I wanted to see what how I would feel if I decided never to leave. I just finished reading Spiritland by Nava Renek, a novel about a young backpacker and her rollercoaster vacation in Thailand. The book is filled with characters that arrive in Thailand, plan to stay a few weeks, and end up staying for months, years, and in some cases, decades. They all end up staying for different reasons: one is an illegal heroin trader, another is locked in a Thai jail, a third never wants to return to her parents, and the protagonist's boyfriend disappears and she falls in love someone else in Thailand.

Spiritland is far from excellent — I only chose to read it because it's about backpacking in Thailand — but it is surprisingly accurate and a perfect read to get you in the mood for (or maybe scare you off from) a backpacking trip to Thailand. Its descriptions of backpacking destinations (e.g. Bangkok's famous Khao San Road) and backpackers themselves are dead-on. Almost every backpacker I've met here is a little outside the norm.

I met a massage therapist from Boston who traveled to Thailand to better learn Oriental massage techniques and decided to extend his stay for six weeks. I met a guy from Burgundy, France who makes artistic and sport kites for a living — seriously, he travels all over the world going to kite festivals and selling. I met two supermodel-looking blond girls who host a Romanian television variety show. Admittedly, they weren't really backpacking and were horrified by anything outside their fancy Bangkok hotel. I also met a Canadian who has spent the last six months traveling all over Malaysia; even when I pushed him, I didn't discover any secret plans of his to leave. Ever.

There are so many reasons I never want to leave Thailand. For example, in the States, I've probably saved enough money to live for a year without a job — maybe I could eek out a year and a half if I sold my condo and lived in a tiny cardboard box eating chili for months on end. On the other hand, if I quit working today, I could probably live fairly comfortably in Thailand for about 20 years. Or, at the end of five more years saving money in the States, I could probably retire permanently in Thailand. Not only that, but I would live out my days eating some of the best food in the world (who knew that Thailand's food puts most other country's to shame?). I'd become a tour guide and get to go hiking and kayaking every day. I'd delight Thai children with my disappointing waterfall cliff-jumping techniques (those kids are fearless!). Thai girls everywhere would be stunned by more movie-star blue eyes. And did I mention all the food I'd eat?

Of course, my plan has its problems. Thailand is not exactly politically stable (I count about seven government coups in the last 25 years), there aren't enough (any?) Lindsay Lohan look-alikes here, and I'm not sure I could deal with having to sit on a tree stump any time I wanted to use a computer for the rest of my life.

But owning a pet elephant would be killer.

P.S. I hope this essay makes it onto the Internet; apparently, the satellite Internet connection in this bamboo hut doesn't work when the sky's cloudy. No joke.

Yes, I rode an elephant through the jungle. You can stop asking now.

Tourists ride an elephant through a river in the jungle near Um Phang

When I told people about my plans to visit Thailand, the most popular question I got asked — beating out "Won't you get sick?", "How can you go to Thailand without knowing where you're going or staying?", and "Are you going to have sex with a prostitute?" — was, "Are you going to ride on an elephant?" This was strange to me, because while I have always associated Thailand with enormous golden Buddahs, backpackers, and an exotic culture, I didn't know that the predominant image of Thailand for most Americans was taking a ride on an elephant. But now, I have. So you can stop asking.

Four days ago, I hired a Thai guide named Pitak (we called him Tom) from the Um Phang Tu Ka Su Cottage at which I was staying to take me and two friends from Denmark on a trek through the Burmese-Thai jungle. This type of eco-tourism has become exceptionally popular in Thailand and other countries with natural beauty (e.g. Costa Rica, Peru); in some Thailand backpacker destinations (e.g. Chang Mai, Pai), it's hard to find a guest house that doesn't start asking, "Trek? Trek?" as soon as you walk in the door.

For a mere 3,500 Baht ($88 US), Pitak and his three-man team took us on a three day trek. On the first day, we spent the morning rafting down the Mae Nam Mae Klong river, enjoying the rapids, watching for jungle wildlife, and gawking at the towering limestone cliffs above us. We ended the day by hiking and rock climbing up a small mountain and swimming under Thee Lor Su waterfall; Thailand's largest and one of Southeast Asia's most spectacular falls, it cascades down a 984-foot limestone cliff into a green translucent pool. We camped next to the river in small tents and enjoyed excellent, traditional Thai food that Pitak's team prepared for us. Before bedtime, I brushed on up my Danish with my friends and taught one of them how to play backgammon using my tiny travel set.

We spent more time on the second day swimming under the waterfall and then proceeded to hike about half of the day into the Heart of Darkness, finally stopping at a small Karen village to camp for the night and experience life in the middle of a jungle. Refugees originally from Htikabler village of Myanmar, the Karen people live in small, bamboo huts and make a meager living selling handmade clothes to tourists. They obtain electricity using solar cell technology provided for them by the Thai government. Again, we punctuated the day with traditional Thai food and backgammon.

Finally, we spent the morning of the third day riding in bamboo chairs on elephants through the jungle, returning to the river for a final swim and then a trip back to our Um Phang guest house. I have to admit that while the elephants were fun, they were my least favorite part of the trip; sitting in a tiny, bouncing bamboo chair on top of an elephant can get tiring after three hours. I'm sorry to disappoint you.

Side note: the answers to the next most popular going-to-Thailand questions are: yes, it's possible to get sick in Thailand (though the risks are significantly lower than in other developing countries), but you can get sick in the U.S. and in every other country too; vacations are significantly more fun when you have the freedom to travel and leave a place whenever you want, making hotel reservations more of a hinderance than a help; and no, the sex tourism industry in Thailand is surprisingly small and caters mostly to locals — I've been propositioned more in New York and in Amsterdam than here.

Our trip was unique, but even more exceptional was our guide, Pitak. One of the few Thais (and trek guides) I met who spoke nearly-fluent English, he filled us with knowledge about the area and Thai culture; he explained Thai politics, the specifics of plants, trees, and wildlife, the competition between local trek guides, and the difficulties of running a tourist business in Thailand. He talked our ears off (sometimes to sleep), but it's hard to complain because he filled us with so much great information. As a favor, he drove the three of us to our next destination in his truck after the trek (a motion-sickness inducing 6-hour drive) and later made sure we found the right bus to Chang Mai (finding the "right" bus in Thailand is not easy).

If you're thinking of trekking in Northern Thailand, I highly recommend the trip we took out of Um Phang. Because of the remote location, we didn't see many other trekkers (only two other small, three-person trips at the waterfall), and the Tu Ka Su cottage has the best rooms in Um Phang (for 600 Baht/$15 US per night). I originally planned a trip with the Umphang Hill Resort (you can't imagine what an abuse of the word "resort" this is), but they (thankfully) didn't bother to pick me up when they promised. Some of the other trekkers we ran into didn't get to do as much rock-climbing and hiking as we did either. We're forever indebted to our first real Thai friend, Pitak.

Elephants are revered in Thailand. Thais have historically used elephants on farms, in the jungle, and as weapons in wars, and until 1917, the Thai national flag included a white elephant as part of its design. While Thais still use elephants for tourist treks and in some cases as workhorses in rural areas, the number of elephants in Thailand has dropped from 100,000 in 1900 to fewer than 3,000 today.

A jungle trek guide readies an elephant for a tourist

During my second day in Thailand, while walking the streets of Bangkok, I caught glimpse of a rope elephant (not pictured). It's just what it sounds like; I saw an old woman sitting on a small stool with a table on a street corner, carving artistic elephants out of rope as thick as a cucumber. She was like the Thai-equivalent of a child's birthday's balloon-animal clown.

I almost never do any shopping when I travel. In the spirit of Without Baggage, I hate carrying anything with me. Usually, the prospect of buying something and then having to lug it with me for the rest of the trip almost always outweighs the excitement I have about any trinket or handicraft. Admittedly, I later broke this rule at the Chiang Mai night market and shipped a box of Thai handicrafts home (thanks, DHL).

But this rope elephant was unlike any handicraft I had ever seen before. I wanted it.

But it was the second day of my trip. I just couldn't bear the thought of carrying a rope elephant around with me in my backpack for sixteen days. I also knew I would probably see hundreds of crafts just like at it at markets throughout my trip, and by Thai standards, she wanted a lot of money for the elephant. So, I passed on her offer.

As my trip continued, I started hunting for rope elephants. Everywhere, I saw wood-carved elephants, stuffed elephants, and paintings of elephants, but no rope elephants. I visited other markets in Bangkok. No rope elephants. I looked through markets in Chiang Mai, including the famously enormous Chiang Mai night market. No rope elephants. Chiang Rai: no rope elephants. The Golden Triangle: no rope elephants. Laos: no rope elephants.

By the end of my trip, I still had seen only one rope elephant. So, in a last ditch effort, upon returning to Bangkok for my final flight back home, I launched a whirlwind tour of the city to search for the rope elephant. I couldn't even remember where I saw it. I tried looking in all the places I thought an elusive rope elephant might live. I ran through the streets around the Grand Palace, Wat Pho, Wat Arun, the Amulet Market, and Khao San road, trying to retrace my steps. Apparently, the Rope Elephant Woman had given me a rare, one-time offer. The rope elephant is such a rare species that finding one in the wild apparently requires an expert. I was never even able to take a photograph.

Dear Rope Elephant Woman: if you're reading this, I'll happily pay double your asking price for the rope elephant. In fact, I'll take three.