ORIENT Excess
The beach bars in Thailand are never dull
The back of my tongue erupted in flame and the heat of a thousand suns spread in my mouth like lava gushing from the depths of Hades. Tears ran down my cheeks as I gasped for air and groped for the nearest liquid—fortuitously a bottle of Singha beer, which I downed in three desperate glugs in a futile search for relief. It seemed my week of fiery (or so I’d thought) Thai cuisine had done nothing to inoculate me against the devastating effects of bu pad, curried crab, a usually benign dish that had, upon closer inspection, been all too liberally seasoned with the tiny but deadly (literally, mouse-shit peppers).
