Bangkok, Thailand
April 16, 2018

It’s hard to describe how I feel. A hurricane of emotions is running through me.

That day has arrived, and it still doesn’t feel real. On one hand, it feels like an eternity has passed, on the other, a part of me would’ve wanted a little more time. Just a little. Or maybe not. Maybe it really is time to go home. I think I’ve taken everything I could from this incredible experience.

It’s the last day of my first big trip to Southeast Asia.

It’s five in the morning. For the last time, my alarm goes off to “Holiday in Cambodia” by the Dead Kennedys. It’s extremely hot, and I am sweating like a pig. I barely slept, forced into an awkward position so I wouldn’t rub the fresh tattoo on my forearm: a nice elephant head, drawn by me on paper and then redrawn by a stranger on my skin.

I chose this subject because during my first solo-trip, I saw elephants for the first time in my life, and I also spent several days volunteering at a sanctuary in the Cambodian jungle. I’m really happy with this little piece of art on my arm. Maybe I should’ve been satisfied with that. I say this because this tattoo is not the main character of this story.

I put a pack of cigarettes and some incense in my backpack (I’ll explain why later), get dressed with the few dry clothes I can find, even though they were still damp from the past few days, when I found myself right in the middle of Songkran, the water festival. A three-day event that turns the streets of Bangkok into a battlefield, with crowds armed with water guns and buckets. In a matter of seconds, they soaked everything: backpack, documents, phone, all wet. I ended up joining the war too, but that’s another story…

At five in the morning, if it weren’t for the still-wet streets, I’d think I was in a completely different place compared to the previous days: there’s almost no one around in Bangkok, except for the street cleaners who, poor guys, are dealing with the chaos left behind by Songkran. After a bit of struggle, I manage to stop a taxi and immediately tell him my destination: Wat Bang Phra, the temple known for its sacred tattoos, about fifty kilometres from Bangkok.

That’s right, I’ve decided. The elephant tattoo I got a few days ago on my forearm isn’t enough. I want to go big, I want to push it, as usual. To end my almost three-month trip through Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia in style, I want to get a Sak Yant.

But a Sak Yant is much more than just a tattoo.