The Twentyfirst Try

I don’t know what it’s called. But it’s the feeling of awe sitting on an empty dock at three in the morning, looking across the unexpectedly silent river, at a structure that have gone many transformations but at present, a temple, well-lit with amber lights and called Wat Arun, the temple of dawn.

It’s the feeling of owning the moment – the pavement still wet from the rain, the smell of mud mixed with oil permeating the air, the place all to my lonesome – the rest of the world sleeping, lulled by the frequent grating of metal into wood as the parked boats danced to the ebb and flow of the Chao Phraya River.

It’s the feeling of not knowing where I was headed two hours ago, armed only with a backpack and a map I picked at Bangkok airport, confused with the strange markings everywhere and words like thanon and soi. It’s being overwhelmed by the experience of talking to someone who did not understand me but after a lot of finger pointing finally got me inside a taxi that raced through hollow streets leading to the only place that felt familiar.

It’s the fear of being dropped on an empty road right across the still closed Wat Pho, a place seemingly familiar because I read from somewhere it houses the reclining Buddha. It’s the curiosity as I headed north under morose lights until I found myself in an alley with only a flickering bulb lighting the way, leading into a chain-link fence. In a distance, the unlit dock.

It’s the contentment of staring at a view in darkness, head against my backpack, waiting for dawn to crack and my friends to join me, whiling away the time by checking the news on my phone. It’s the realization that I came at a turbulent time when the Thai people are in a revolution, demanding for change of leadership – the thought causing a tinge of pain because where I came from is no different.

It’s the dawning of understanding that a few blocks away, in a few hours, will begin a strike so my friends and I have to rush to Hua Lamphong train station and get away before the activists take the streets.

But not yet.

It’s the feeling of appreciating that moment of peace. A moment when patience is rewarded with the first ray of sunlight hitting the ancient temple walls, the muddy water mirroring the golden glow blinding my eyes and I had it all to myself. It’s the surreal moment of having a plan realized, thankful that for once, I listened to my gut.

I doubt of ever finding the word. But if it does exist, then it is what I’m looking for.