Today, as I leave Koh Chang, an island off the southeastern coast of Thailand, for the Cambodian border, I am reminded of the incredible capacity of humans to adjust, or adapt to changing circumstances.
My first day in Thailand (Bangkok) was an assault on the senses. Everything shocked and surprised me--the rabid dogs on the side of the road with drooping eyes and mangy, flea-bitten fur, babies held with one-arm on the front of a motorbike weaving in and out of rush-hour traffic, the alternating bursts of rotten-egg and acetone-cow-manure smells. My jet-lagged senses hopped from one magnetizing stimulus to the next, ill-equipped to sort out and interpret the various inputs.
This morning, I stepped over two or three mangy, flea-bitten dogs on my way to the van pick-up location without batting a lash. I didn't gawk at the Elizabethan-style whitening cream makeup of the Thai woman who sold me a cup of coffee, peering closely, as I did on my first day, at the hairline border where natural skin pigment resumed. If I smelled any rotten eggs or cow-manure-type smells, I can't remember now.
I have adjusted, more or less, to my surroundings in Thailand--a good indicator that it's time to move on.
The task of the traveler, in my opinion, is never to adjust. As soon as we really know a place--the sights, sounds and smells cease to enthrall or confound us--we become desensitized to it, engaging with it in the same absent-minded way we order a cup of coffee or cross the street at home. Though it may be more logistical and possibly unsustainable in the long run, the task of the traveler is to stay in the slipstream, continuously subjecting ourselves to changing challenges and circumstances.
No comments:
Post a Comment