One of the things I dig most about travel is how it forces you out of your comfort zone. It’s all too easy to fall into patterns when we’re living our normal lives– waking up, working the 9-5, eating dinner, watching a favorite sitcom, and going to bed. Maybe you go to the gym, or mix it up by trying out a new bar rather than the same old haunt. Patterns are good. Patterns bring order into our lives, and with order comes comfort. Patterns are built on meaning: to strengthen relationships, our bodies, to decompress after a long day. We visit the places and the people that have brought us happiness time and again, because we expect that they will continue to bring us happiness. Patterns become patterns for a reason.

But sometimes we can get stuck in our patterns. This is where travel comes in: the “When in Rome” factor. Surrounded by new people and sights and sounds and tastes; aware of the transience of the moment, we become braver, more open-minded versions of ourselves. We recognize that we have, if only for a short time, broken out of our comfort zones and patterns, and we embrace the moment for whatever it is.

I consider myself an adventurous eater– a human garbage disposal, if you will. I will try just about anything. Even so, at home in Boston, I wouldn’t eat a maggot if you double-dog dared me. But one night out in Bangkok was all it took. On my third day in Thailand, I was exploring a BKK night market with some friends when we stumbled upon a bug-vendor. We deliberated and giggled and squirmed about it for a while, but in the end it was a unanimous “When in Thailand!” We came here to have new cultural experiences, and we committed to doing just that. We touched our wee beasties together in a toast and popped them into our mouths.

a la carte

Cheers???

I can’t say it was the most delicious treat I’ve tasted here in Thailand, but it didn’t make me gag, either. In fact, I followed my salty fried maggot with a pan-seared larva. Slimy, yet satisfying. I wasn’t brave enough to go for one of the giant cockroaches or scorpions this time around… but I will. Oh, I will… when that creepy-crawler least expects it.

My friend Holly was a real champ this past weekend, courageously noshing a meaty, leggy, gold n’ crunchy grasshopper on Khao San Road. It’s Holly’s last week in Thailand before she jets off to volunteer in Cameroon, so we all bore the summer heat on Saturday, hopping a van to BKK to help her bid farewell with the ultimate Thailand tourist’s weekend. When you’re doing as the Roman’s do, you get to indulge in cheesy delicious margherita pizza and wash it down with red wine.  When you do as the Thai’s do, it is vermin a la carte… bonappetit! Our friend Alex chose the creme of the crop for Holly, and we cheered her on as she devoured it… nearly painlessly. She was a great sport about it.

Our W.I.R (When in Rome) weekend continued to break from the norm as we hitched a ride in a tuk-tuk for a little rendezvouz in a seedier part of town. Let it suffice to say that this was underground Bangkok in all of its degrading, graphic, and chauvinistic infamy. The experience was vaguely interesting, but mostly just disturbing. I couldn’t detach myself from the situation enough to be entertained by the surreal and ridiculous performance that was thrust (pun intended) before my eyes. I’m not saying it wasn’t an impressive display, but between shaming my inner-feminist  and wanting to be asleep in my bed, I just wasn’t having it. If I never experience this part of Thailand again, it will be too soon.

The next morning we dragged ourselves out of bed, chugged some water, and prepped ourselves for a workout in the park.

Enter: Muay Thai Max.

AKA: Muscles Max.  AKA: Thai-Man-Candy Max.

Max is a professional Muay Thai fighter in Bangkok and a friend of a friend who invited us to Lumphini Park for a Sunday morning Muay Thai lesson.  Anyone who knows me knows I am a lover, not a fighter, and certainly not much of an athlete.  But, W.I.R.!  You probably wouldn’t catch me hurrying myself to the Boston Commons on a sleepy Sunday morning to learn how to box, but here I am- in Thailand- and this was an opportunity not to be missed.  We worked out with Max for about an hour and a half, dripping with sweat in the blazing Bangkok sun.  We learned to find our fighting stance and the basic offensive moves: the jab, elbow, kick, knee, and foot thrust.  As you can see, I am now an expert:

By the end of Max’s workout, I was drenched in my own sweat. I could barely lift my arms. Then, he congratulated us on finishing the warm-up. For Muay Thai Max, who runs for an hour, then jumps rope, then runs tires, then cools down with some shadow boxing and partner training (totaling a 5-hour gym stint), this was kid’s stuff.

Grasshoppers, “special shows,” boxing in the BKK summer heat, taking a 12 hour overnight bus ride just to spend two days in a distant rural town, or pulling yourself away from Facebook on a Tuesday night to walk to the night market because, well, you live a mile away from a Thai night market. The point I mean to make is that travel inspires new adventures. Some of these episodes, I’d never want to repeat again.  Some are perhaps not even really “doing as the Thais do”… more like the dirty old Western men. But these and plenty of other experiences here in Thailand are ones that I might not been motivated or bold enough to try if I weren’t in Thailand. Other “When in Rome” instances, such as local festivals, learning Thai, or getting down and dirty with the squat toilets have afforded me broader horizons and changed perspectives. I think that, in this sense, breaking my patterns becomes both a chance for adventure as well as for personal growth.

But, sometimes you can burn out on the W.I.R. factor too.  That’s, why after burning the calories in my Muay Thai “warm-up,” I decided to really do as the Romans do:  treat myself to a cheesy-delicious pizza.  Thank you, Bangkok  🙂