Broken English with taxi drivers.

My good friend Missy Williams recently sent me a message posing this question: "does this trip make the world seem larger and you more sublime, or smaller and more connected with God and other people?"

In a roundabout way, here is my answer.

About a week ago, just before I dozed in and out of consciousness with a slightly twisted neck on an all night bus to Koh Chang, I decided to catch a taxi to Ekamai bus station. The Thai were all too eager to help, and I received a host of different answers as to which local bus would take me directly to the bus station. Some said, take 511, others said take the 503 to Victory Monument and then hop on the 509. After receiving another variation of inner-city bus route advice, I stood on the sidewalk and I looked at my watch; it was 9:00 PM. Night had set in. I looked at some buses as they flew by with some of their occupants holding handkerchiefs over their mouths to filter the polluted smoke that poured out of exhaust pipes. In this moment I added two, no three strenuous factors together (a multiplicity of bus numbers + endless bus routes + final destinations in Thai writing + and pollution) -- that's four. On top of my exhaustion (five), I decided to get a cab.

After some price negotiation, by 10:00 I tossed my bag into the back seat and following it, I dropped in myself. My driver with long fingernails and long hair pinned back on his head turned to me and held a glossy folded brochure up to my face. "Which one do you want?" he asked me, pointing to naked Thai girls in the dim light. "None" I told him, "lets go to Ekamai." He laughed, "None huh? OK. Now we go to Ekamai."

As we drove to the other side of the city, he asked me the usual questions. Where are you from?, How long have been in Thailand?, How long are you on holiday? Where are you staying?, and Where are you going? I answered most of them, and then, as I thought was the polite thing to do, tried to ask him some questions.

Its interesting to note how much my English changes from person-to-person. If I were to speak with you, who are reading this, I probably would converse with you similarly (though slightly different) to how I am writing now. You would understand every word, and even in the rare chance that I would use an uncommon word, I am sure with logic you would fill in the gaps with your understanding of context. Talking in broken, or sometimes shattered English, is very different. Sometimes in my Western mind, I hear myself sounding like a child, but the reality of the situation is that there is no other way to communicate. You must simplify.

"How long... you work... in... taxi?"

He looks at me puzzled.

"How long you drive?"

(You see what I mean?)

After a few minutes, I learn that he has been driving the taxi for three years, but this isn't his taxi he tells me. For a second I am concerned. "I am driving it for a friend," he says. "My friend had to go home."

Somehow, I am back at ease.

Born and raised in Bangkok, he seems to know the city pretty well as he points out parks and markets that I inquire about as we pass them in the dark. It doesn't sound like he ever has a holiday. I mention some places in Thailand, asking him if he's been there. When he laughes and shakes his head no, I begin to feel.

Stuck in a traffic jam of motorbikes, trucks, cars, and buses, I sit quietly in the back and try to face the reality of what he has just told me. He has never been outside of Thailand and probably never will. His pay is meager -- and that is stretching it.

I have enough money in my pocket to buy him a bus ticket out of Bangkok. I have enough money in my wallet to send him out of Thailand, but even if I offered, I doubt he would ever believe me or ever go. This is his work. This is his life.

Just like the girl who works in the internet cafe six days a week, or the one who runs back and forth between restaurant tables with farangs over-bearingly waiting their bill, many people here in Thailand will probably never leave, because the facts are, many will never have the opportunity.

I am sure that much is the same in other parts of the world that sooner, rather than later, I will reach through my journey. Yet even if I were able to visit all these places, I would never even scratch the surface of understanding the truth.

To answer the question, I don't feel more sublime, but the world does seem much larger. There are privileged few who get to travel and run from country to country just like they are running from one backyard to the next, but I am in the minority.