Finally, we ended up on a military base restaurant near the sea, miles from our intended destination. But, Annie proclaimed, “Bon! Good enough,” and we slid into our seats ready to devour our spicy Thai lunch.
 
The restaurant was lively with Thai families out for a Sunday outing. Soldiers with their rifles casually leaned against the walls, watching and tapping their fingers to the blaring Thai country music in the canteen. Oddly, the music changed every ten minutes or so, and a distinct battery of Samba drum beats rattled the walls. At that very moment, a most garish, made up, bedazzled Katoy or Thai Lady Boy busted out of the lady's restroom/ Katoy dressing room, performed a few hip twirls, pursed her/is lips, waved, and trotted off amongst the benches to join his/er friends. The families and soldiers all carried on, ignoring the scene as if nothing unusual was happening on a Sunday afternoon AT A MILITARY BASE!
 
It was utterly surreal.
 
I decided at that moment that the thing I love the most about Thailand is its celebration of paradox. The thought caught me so off guard, because I came expecting to loveThailand the way the guidebooks said I would. I am also a woman of extremes and love the paradox of life, and finally I had found a place—a culture—that intrinsically embraces this dualism.
 
Heady with my discovery that I had more in common with Thai’s than I thought, I joined Annie and friends for the return trip. We decided to stick our thumbs out and catch the next chicken bus back to the boat docks. The four of us, again, offered a ridiculous sight, hanging off the bus with our bikes. But as a tall, long limbed, freckled blond, I was getting used to making a scene in my new home. And I liked it.