Pause and Wander

Dates: February 7-12, 2026

Place: Phuket, Thailand

Phuket wasn’t supposed to be the place where everything shifted. It was supposed to be a pause between adventures, a few days of pools and beaches and easy meals before heading to Laos. Instead, it became the week we made the biggest decision of our entire trip. All that after we watched our daughter Finlee work through some complicated feelings, and got stuck in a taxi with a driver who spiritually awakened himself with cold water and Red Bull while driving 40 kph on a highway.

The taxi ride the would never end

Travel days are rarely highlights. They’re necessary connectors, logistical puzzles to solve. Today’s puzzle was getting from Ao Luek to Phuket, a drive that should take about 2 hours and 45 minutes with the average driver.

We did not have an average driver.

The taxi arrived right on time at 11:30. The driver was an older Thai man, probably 60 to 70 years old. Within the first few seconds in the car, Max got weird vibes. The driver fumbled the steering wheel as he tried to exit the parking area while also setting his drink in the cup holder. Max thought to himself, “Both hands on the steering wheel, buddy.”

The ride didn’t smooth out after that. The driver kept lurching left to let faster drivers pass on the right, then speeding back up to traffic speed, then randomly slowing down again and lurching left to let another car pass. It was bizarre. We tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but then the driver started going really slowly. Like, 30 to 40 kph below the speed of traffic on a highway. We were driving on the shoulder the majority of the time.

We were all taking turns reading The Amazing Generation aloud, part of our family’s mutual goal to de-screenify our lives, but “Daddy kept getting distracted!”  Max kept looking at Google Maps—the ETA just kept getting later and later. Then the driver rummaged in the door pocket and pulled out a plastic bag full of individually wrapped hard candies. He started driving with his knee as he struggled to open the wrapper.

Max finally had enough. “Whoa, drive the car!” He put a hand on the steering wheel.

The driver started laughing and talking in a mix of Thai and broken English. “It’s okay, I know drive! Drive good, drive good!”

He finally got the candy out of the wrapper. That’s when the mouth noises started. Suck suck click. Suck suck click. Non. Stop.

This is one of our family’s biggest pet peeves, and apparently this fact had been well ingrained into our children, because when the girls heard it they not-so-subtly whispered, “Oh my god, why is he making mouth noises like that?!”

Took the words out of my mouth.

We looked down at the time. It was 11:52. We’d been in the car for 12 minutes. At the speeds we were going, this drive was going to take well over 3 hours. We were dreading every second.

Then the driver pulled over at a 7-Eleven. He was laughing a bit maniacally while telling us he’d be back in 2 minutes. He came back with a Red Bull, a pack of Dentyne Ice gum, and a big bottle of water. Before getting into the car, he chugged the Red Bull, then doused his head and face with the cold water and screamed, “Whooooyaaa!”

By this point we weren’t sure what was happening. Was he tired? Trying to stay awake? What was this?

We called the hotel that had booked the driver. They told us he’s very responsible and has never had issues, but that he can come across as “childish,” and that he’s Muslim so he sometimes uses cold water for ablutions to keep “spiritually awake.” They called the driver and told him we were going to get out and find a new driver if he didn’t act more calmly and drive appropriately.

Max looked at him and pointed at his two eyes, then pointed to the road, then made a smooth motion forward with both hands. The message was clear—keep your eyes on the road and drive smoothly. He used Google Translate to ask if the driver was sober and well-rested. The driver promised he was. 

We gave him a second chance.

The rest of the ride was painful due to all the mouth noises and the slow driving, but by the time we got onto Phuket the traffic was so thick we were driving slowly regardless. We finally arrived at our Airbnb 3.5 hours after departing Ao Luek.

We’ve never been happier to get out of a car. We paid the man, wished him well, and hoped we’d never see him again.

These are the types of adventures that really hone your travel skills. Do you ride it out? Do you cut and run? Do you talk it out? The worst case scenario is what generally pops into one’s head during these moments, but it takes a minute to figure out what’s actually going on. Maybe just a quick conversation and some gestures will sort it all out.

This was a weird one for us. But we all got to Phuket safe and sound and can now laugh about those god-awful mouth noises.

The $6,000 Decision

We are at the midpoint of our sabbatical—our Family Gap Year. The question of which direction to point ourselves home has been sitting in the background of nearly every planning conversation we’ve had for weeks—certainly since we officially decided to go back to the US rather than take on an entirely new adventure by resettling on the other side of the planet. 

The options were genuinely vast. Pop over to South America. Stay in Southeast Asia. Hit up Australia and Oceania. Maybe Africa. Or what about Central Asia and the Caucasus?Or maybe just do Europe.

We built algorithms. Actual algorithms (of course)—weighing budget, culture, cuisine, natural beauty, activities, and ease of travel with kids. We ran the numbers. The answer came back clearly and consistently: South America. A grand overland adventure starting in Buenos Aires and heading north. It made sense on almost every metric.

And then we added two more variables that changed everything.

The first was proximity. We are currently on this side of the world, in Thailand, and soon to be in Laos then Taiwan. How difficult would it be to reach each option from here? The second was irreversibility. If we didn’t do a given destination now, how hard would it be to come back to it later in life?

When we are fed those two factors into the model, South America dropped and a completely different itinerary surfaced.

We looked at each other, recognized it immediately as right, and bought the tickets before we could second guess ourselves.

Here is what we purchased: Taiwan to Uzbekistan, to Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan, to Georgia and Armenia, finishing in Romania and Serbia. 

Six thousand dollars in flights that would let us explore the Silk Road, the Caucasus, the Balkans, and then home. It’s a lot to look at on a screen, financially and logistically. But once we’d committed, it felt less like a transaction and more like a declaration. This trip has gone through several philosophical phases already: wanting stability and community, then wanderlust and unique experiences. We wanted everything planned and booked, then nothing at all, then some muddled middle ground.

We’re landing on a new approach. One big stretch of heavy planning and reservation-making, everything locked in, and then we stop worrying about what comes next and focus entirely on where we actually are.

The road ahead is now more or less set. What a strange and exciting feeling!

Fight Night

The girls have been asking to go to a Muay Thai fight ever since learning we were coming to Thailand. They train in MMA back in Reno, and Muay Thai is one of the disciplines they learn. To see real practitioners was a must-do activity. 

We ate a quick dinner at a shack in the 7/11 parking lot. Nope, not joking. We gave it a go since the Google reviews were good, but what we got simply confirmed that Thailand is the best culinary country in the world. The fried rice was the best we’ve had anywhere on this trip so far. The pad Thai was awesome, fresh, and full of chicken. The papaya salad was so good with the absolute perfect balance of salty fish sauce to vinegar to sugar ratio. We also had a mango passion fruit smoothie from the hut next door and it too was top notch. We love Thailand. Their food is the best and it’s super cheap—$15 for all of that and we’re in a super touristy part of Phuket. Ok, culinary detour complete.

We then hailed a Grab to drive us the 2 km to the arena. The driver pulled off the road next to a big empty field and pointed vaguely off in the distance. There was no indication we were at the right location. Out of nowhere hustled a short but rotund Thai woman yelling, “Muay Thai Boxing! You have ticket?!” We hadn’t bought tickets yet. She said no problem, she had tickets “special” for us.

Arya and Finlee have finely tuned “sketchy situation” detectors and this set off red flags immediately for them. Someone popping up out of nowhere in a big dirt lot at 8:30 at night announcing they have tickets to the exact thing we just asked about? We had our doubts too.

But something about the way the lady disarmed us made us believe she was legit. We bought the tickets. She gave us half price for the girls and pointed us toward the music. About 100 meters away we saw a big boxy warehouse-looking building with high energy music thumping into the hot night air. That had to be the place. We walked over and we were ushered right in. 

We’d bought basic bleacher seating instead of their VIP or ringside seats, and that proved to be right call—the view was great. Before each match starts, there’s a lovely ritual where fighters perform the Wai Kru Ram Muay, a ceremonial dance where they pay respect to their teachers, the sport, and the ring itself, moving gracefully to traditional music while wearing sacred headbands called mongkons that are believed to bring protection and good luck.

The first fight featured two local boys who looked like they were 8 or 9 years old. One was shorter with a husky build. The other was slim and lanky with better reach. Both were oiled from head to toe with looks of determination set deeply into their faces. The fight bell rang and they went at each other. It was a hurricane of fists, elbows, legs, and knees flying with near reckless abandon. Most strikes were wild and hit nothing but air, but every now and then one would connect. Hard. By the third round both boys looked like a stiff breeze would have knocked them over, but there was also an exhilaration emanating from them that was undeniable. The round was deemed a draw.

This fight really fired the girls up. They thought it was so cool to see people putting their skills to the test in such an intense way.

The next fight was different. Two young girls, probably around 11 or 12. One Thai, the other Swiss. From the start, the outcome was never in doubt. The Swiss girl came out swinging without holding back. The Thai girl seemed overwhelmed immediately. Within 30 seconds she was on the ropes taking hit after hit without being able to defend. The referee stepped in and stopped the fight.

This was about the point where Finlee started having doubts about how much she liked Muay Thai fights.

The next fight made it worse. Two more girls, one Swedish and the other Thai. The Thai girl got in one good hit on the Swedish girl, but this only served to unleash the Swede’s beast mode. The Swede landed strike after strike, and when she nailed a mean cross and then a knee to the other girl’s stomach, it was all over. The Thai girl dropped like a rag doll. She tried to take a breath but her spasming diaphragm gave her nothing and she passed out cold.

The Swede looked mortified and immediately went to her knees, bowing down and hoping her opponent wasn’t badly injured. Finlee looked even more distraught. Our girls practice MMA at home and they have sparring where hits do land, but never have they experienced or witnessed full contact combat like this. Finlee was tearing up on behalf of the Thai girl.

Arya, on the other hand, was in a frenzy of delight. “Wow! She destroyed that girl!”

Yes. Yes she did indeed.

The next few fights were less dramatic and Finlee composed herself, but then came a full knockout in the third round between two men in the 80 kilo matchup. The winning competitor cheered as blood trickled between his eyes when his opponent went limp and crashed to the ground after taking a brutal cross straight into his face. That was more violence than Finlee could take. The waterworks were on.

Shaina talked to her about how these are grownups who are competing to win but not truly wanting to hurt the other person. Finlee was not buying it. But then we pointed out how the winner went over to the other man after he was up and moving, bowed to him, and then they both hugged and patted each other on the back. They were good sports.

This was what allowed Finlee to calm herself.

Finlee is an empathic soul, and we love that about her. On the other hand, Arya was enthralled by the whole affair. She was awed that two people were brave enough to step into a ring in front of everyone and try their hardest to use their skills to best another fighter.

Both reactions felt completely valid. I think we  found ourselves somewhere in between. Part of us questioned whether it was okay to pay to watch this, to support this kind of violence as entertainment. If we wouldn’t want our own daughters participating in full contact fighting like this—did that make us hypocrites for sitting in those bleachers? Maybe a little.

But there was something else there too. The rituals, the respect built into every fight, the way winners immediately went to their opponents afterward with genuine concern and honor. The Wai Kru Ram Muay wasn’t performative – it was real reverence for the art and for each other. These weren’t people trying to hurt each other out of malice. They were athletes testing themselves against worthy opponents in a tradition centuries old.

It’s complicated. There’s probably no clean answer. But watching Finlee wrestle with those same questions in real time, seeing her empathy surface so strongly, and then watching Arya’s different but equally valid appreciation for the courage it takes to step into that ring – that felt like exactly the kind of experience travel is supposed to offer. Not comfortable. Not simple. But real.

Swimming Forward

Our last few days in Phuket were quieter. Pool time. Homework. Trip planning now that the big decision was made. Thai massages now that Finlee was an avid fan and self-proclaimed connoisseur.  Therapeutic massages for Max and Shaina, that Shaina loved but only left Max wondering if therapeutic bruising is actually a thing. 

But there was one more moment that mattered.

A few days earlier we’d been sitting by the pool watching a Russian man named Dimitri give swim lessons to a lineup of small children. He had a particular gift: a reassuring tone that never wavered, clear instructions delivered without fuss, modest praise for tasks completed, and firm correction for tasks that weren’t. When the very small ones started crying, he had an almost uncanny ability to redirect their attention and have them blowing bubbles before they’d even registered they’d stopped crying.

The reason this mattered is that Finlee needed a refresher on her swimming skills. She used to be a confident swimmer, but it had been a while. During the boat tour in Ao Luek there was a moment where we jumped off the boat to swim to shore and Max found himself uneasy watching her struggle. So when we approached Dimitri to give Finlee a refresher course and he agreed, we immediately booked a 45 minute session for a few days later.

Finlee was nervous and a bit embarrassed at the thought of doing swim lessons when all the other kids were so much younger. We assuaged these concerns as best we could by scheduling her lesson first thing in the morning when there wouldn’t be as many kids around. Dimitri arrived, efficient but friendly introductions were made, and into the lesson they dove. Forty-five minutes later Finlee was swimming the length of the pool unaided, freestyle and breaststroke both, multiple times. The technical pieces clicked into place. The confidence followed.

It was one of those parenting moments that looks small from the outside but feels enormous from where you’re standing.

What Phuket Taught Us

Phuket wasn’t perfect. The crowds, the noise, the tourist industrial machinery of it all. It’s not for us. We could have easily spent those days on Koh Yao Noi or taken a chance on some other small island and we have no doubt we’d have enjoyed it.

But here’s what we got instead: We made the biggest decision of our trip, committing a big chunk of our budget and the rest of our route to places we’d never seriously considered when we started this family trip. The Silk Road. The Caucasus. The Balkans. A completely different adventure than we’d imagined.

We watched Finlee work through some big feelings about violence and empathy at a Muay Thai fight, tears and all, and come out the other side with a clearer sense of what she values.

We watched her get back in the water with Dimitri and swim with confidence she’d lost somewhere along the way.

We survived a taxi ride with a driver who may have been having a spiritual awakening in real time while making the worst mouth noises known to humanity.

And we ate genuinely excellent food in grocery store parking lots, because that’s just how Thailand works.

Not every place on a trip like this is going to be a favorite. Some places are just where the work gets done. The planning. The decisions. The growth.

Phuket was that place for us.

Tomorrow we fly to Laos, and the road ahead is finally clear. We know where we’re going. We know how we’re getting there. All that’s left is to show up and pay attention.