I also have few taste buds left as they've all been burned off by the forklift-loads of chili they put in, well, everything

If my two months in Thailand have taught me one thing (and really I think they've taught me more like 18.75 gajillion things), it's that humans, and myself in particular, are infinitely adaptable. When I first arrived in Rayong I gazed with horror upon the everyone-for-themselves-and-helmets-be-damned style of traffic, in particular the motorbike taxi drivers who seem to have an uncanny but not infallible sense of just how wide the space between two speeding semi trucks is. It was quite staggeringly frightening to watch them weave and speed and turn and cavalierly ignore what few traffic laws there are. I took it for granted that I would never entrust my valuable and low-pain-thresholded limbs to that form of transportation, no matter how convenient or prevalent it may be.

Seven weeks later, and I quite frequently and unconcernedly take motorbike taxis, often sitting sidesaddle on the back without holding on, my arms full of groceries and talking on my cell phone as if I've been doing it all my life.