Long before I ever made it to Thailand, I visited the North-African countries of Morocco, Tunisia, and Egypt. The latter was a blast, accompanied by my Arabic speaking friend Marnix, his unexpected fluency would instantly halve all prices, speed up buying tickets, and evaporate any risk of getting scammed. But the other two were tougher. Despite the delicious tajine, and the absolutely stunning art and architecture, it was difficult to survive half an hour without being physically pulled into someone’s store, harassed into paying a stranger after asking whether the museum was to the left or right, or tricked into paying triple a reasonable price. 

So, lost in the chaotic maze of Bangkok with Indi, I was absolutely determined never to ask anyone for directions. We had only just arrived, and this was our first walk. Of course things didn’t make sense immediately. But we could figure this out, despite the jetlag and the confusing street signs. No one was to be trusted. It would take more time, but at least we’d keep our dignity. 

Obviously lost and completely unaware of our surroundings, it took perhaps two or three minutes for a stranger to approach us. His enigmatic smile confused me. Perhaps he was bemused at our lack of confidence. Easy prey. Defensive parries ran through my mind. In hindsight I must have come across like a lunatic.

“Where are you trying to go?” the man asked, but I nervously told him he needn’t worry. We already knew that the Royal Palace lay somewhere across the tangled knot of broad roads in front of us. “Ah, today they’ve organised a Buddhist ceremony. Unfortunately it’s closed to regular visitors.” I guess now he was going to guide us to his friend’s shop, to make a good price, or perhaps a bar where the menu doesn’t include any prices, only for the bill to turn out exorbitantly expensive.  

“Tell you what,” he continued, and pulled a large, flat leaf from the nearest tree. “I’ll lay out the basics for you guys!” And, pulling a pen from his pocket, proceeded to scribble the names and directions of the major highlights in that part of Bangkok. Carefully he made his notes, without piercing or ripping the leaf. “Here you go. This here is written in Thai. Just show it to any passer-by in case you get lost again, they’ll point you in the right direction! Oh and these are instructions on how to get the local price. I hope you’ll enjoy this sunny day!” The man smiled, nodded, and walked onwards.

I was stunned. Indi looked at me quite disdainfully. “And you made me so paranoid, you dummy! What did you go and do that for? That guy was so nice!” She wasn’t wrong, you know.

We still have that leaf. The ink a bit faded by time, but not much. It reminds me of my faulty assumptions, and the gentle kindness that softly brushed them away. The following days we never felt unsafe, and never had to be on guard. Instead, we ate lots and lots of sweet mango sticky rice.