Part I: The False Alarm

I fell asleep to the heavy rhythm of cicadas, frogs, the steady white noise of my air conditioning unit, and the scent of fresh rain. The calm did not last. At 1:45 AM, familiar abdominal cramps jolted me awake for tonight’s episode of Thailand Tummy. It took 30 minutes for the system to settle before I could crawl back into bed.


My 5:30 AM alarm was an act of violence. I finally stumbled up at 5:50 AM, poured a cup of questionable instant coffee, and splashed water on my face, only to realize it was Thursday. My therapy session is tomorrow. So I woke up early only to have an existential crisis about a scheduling error… classic.  I immediately retreated to bed, pleasantly guarded by blackout curtains. An extra 2 hours of sleep bumped me up to an Oura score of 86/100 - my highest reading since May 7


I sprung out of bed feeling vastly improved, especially noticing that the bruising on my broken toe is finally beginning to diminish. After a fresh shave, I walked to the pavilion for breakfast and found myself completely alone. The resort provides a standard continental spread, Thai-style, featuring local breads, jams, cereal, tropical fruits, and a sweet herbal juice. Guests can also order any hot rice dish directly from the kitchen menu, though smoothies and fresh pressed juices remain an extra charge.


As I finished my fruit and waited for a plate of Pad Gra Prao, my Singaporean hotelmate targeted me faster than the mosquitoes. Holding a cup of tea, she claimed the seat across from me and complained about the heat. I didn’t have the heart to mention it’s the hot season.


My iPad was folded flat on the table, and I gently explained that I was using this time to catch up on personal communication. She got the hint, though left her empty tea cup sitting on my table. Awesome.


Part II: The Data of the Steam

By 10:15 AM, I had a brief window to journal before my scheduled 11:00 AM herbal steam bath. Because I am committed to a long-term stay and had inquired about internet, the staff assumed I would be working remotely. They originally assigned me to a more secluded room, but later migrated me to a unit directly adjacent to the lobby to ensure I had a stable Wi-Fi signal, in addition to offering a makeshift work setup in the open-air reception area for me. I briefly considered opting for the original placement, but decided the connectivity might come in handy for uploading photo catalogs. Or, to escape other guests…


The resort's traditional steam bath utilizes a raw blend of lemongrass, kaffir lime leaf, plai ginger, and turmeric. During my planning, I was curious about the actual clinical legitimacy of it. Below is a quick overview of the medical literature:


  • Quality of Life: A 2024 study tracking post-COVID patients using herbal steam three times per week for a month demonstrated significant improvements in sleep duration, reduced sleep latency, and decreased emotional distress.
  • Cardiovascular: A 2021 clinical trial illustrated that a four-week protocol using two ten-minute Thai herbal steam cycles per session successfully reduced systolic blood pressure by approximately 6 mm Hg and diastolic by about 4.5 mm Hg, outperforming conventional non-herbal steam rooms.


Losing track of time, I remained inside the chamber for half an hour - the upper suggested limit. For the first half of the session, I shut my eyes to focus on box breathing to practice CNS regulation. Heart rate hovered between 90-100 beats per minute, a decent milestone considering it has frequently exceeded that threshold at rest during recent high-stress months.


Part III: The Mosquito Conspiracies

My solitary meditation was cut short when Ms. Singapore slung into the steam room (I shouldn’t offend Singapore Slings in this way, but couldn’t resist the pun). We sat in a rare, welcomed silence for ten minutes until she exited, but she returned almost immediately to launch into another intense conversation:


Her: “So many mosquitoes!”
Me: “mm..     yeah, quite a few.”
Her: “What room are you staying in?”
Me: “I’m sorry… Why are you wanting to know that?”
Her: “Nevermind, it’s okay.”
Her [a few seconds later]: “I am just curious if you have mosquitos where your room is, that’s all”
Me: “Oh. Well, yeah, I do. They seem to be everywhere.”
Her [a few seconds later, much faster and more direct in her speech]: “last time I was here there weren’t as many, so no, they are not everywhere.”
My internal monologue:  HA. Okay.


Apparently, the local wildlife are supposed to respect her personal historical data? I chose to say absolutely nothing, opting for an exercise in restraint. I did not take an airplane, ferry, and taxi to seclusion in Thailand just to argue about entomology.


But, for inquiring minds:  During her previous stay, she was here during the cool, dry winter. Mosquito populations surge from May-October. It is a basic biological reality. The rainy season brings with it a greater abundance of standing water and egg-laying sites. The insects are not staging a targeted conspiracy against her specific villa.


Fortunately, Kirstie entered the steam room shortly after, offering a brief head nod that restored a quiet boundary. I exited the chamber at 10:45 AM, leaving Kirstie as the next immediate victim; I barely had exited before conversation clearly ensued.


Part IV: Provisions and Autonomic Shifts

The next few days are dedicated restoration days for sorting files and archiving images, writing, and stepping into a slow, unstructured life.


The resort is a traditional, family-run operation managed by the daughter-in-law, Gina. I’ve included a photo below of the welcome sign near the lobby - a perfect description of why I’m here. They also mentioned they’re willing to take me to the nearest 7-11 anytime - a service I was not expecting. In fact, the absence of one in walking distance was another driver for my couple day stint in Bangkok. During my frantic urban search for toe splints last week, I also hoarded other critical supplies.


Gina emphasized, as well, that I should feel no obligation to eat every meal from the hotel’s restaurant, understanding that it may be cheaper and add variety to source my culinary desires from a couple local spots within walking/biking distance. I do appreciate the authenticity and absence of hospitality sales pressure.


This afternoon, I am testing a 30-minute abdominal massage utilizing specific Japanese manual techniques. The therapy focuses on stimulating the vagus nerve and enhancing gut motility to directly improve digestion. More importantly, it aims to balance the autonomic nervous system, manually down-regulating the body out of a chronic sympathetic flight state into a parasympathetic healing loop.


Six months ago, I’d have dismissed an abdominal massage as woo-woo. Today, knowing how much gastrointestinal function drives neurochemical regulation, I am eager to let a stranger press on my stomach for twelve dollars.

Call it a gut instinct