Traveling from one foreign city to another can be confusing. It would be easier if those two places are obviously different to each other so that a distinction is clear, like ... let's say Oslo and Osaka. I mean, sure, Bali is an island, it belongs to Indonesia, people speak Indonesian or Balinese, they use Rupiah to pay for things, and the majority believes in Hinduism. Whereas Bangkok is the capital of Thailand, which is a kingdom almost three thousand kilometers away, where the language is Thai and the currency is Bath.
Two very different places. And still I feel confused, although writing this down is helping a lot. Confused not because it's both asian countries, but because it's both foreign places to me. In both cities I try to blend in as much as possible - which isn't much - by learning about the city, by memorizing words and phrases, by not thinking in Euros, by observing and copying locals. It's both foreign languages, both hard to approach, maybe Thai a little more so, because it's super complex, but still unknown to me.
That's what I thought when I was sitting on the plane yesterday and the captain announced something hard to understand. Also I was used to do maths with Rupiah and suddenly the stewardess asked for fifty Bath for my coffee. It threw me off. Then turbulences. And fishing for my seatbelt I found a receipt that must've escaped my pocket. It was a bill from the Bintang Market. I turned it around and saw a few words on the backside: Indonesian vocabulary that I had noted before.
Awesome Miss Ploy picked me up at noon to help me find a new spot. She was prepared. We took a taxi to Sutthisan Station and checked me into an apartment room of superb luxury. I mean it. It's so clean and comfy that it would kick most high-end hotels' asses. The Rikka Inn was lousy compared to this crib. In the supermarket across the street I got a few essentials, like instant coffee and laundry detergent, and after unpacking a few things I felt a lot more at ease.