In the summer of my second year as a resident, I was dumped by my girlfriend. During my rotation in gastroenterology, my seniors kindly gave me some time off. Inspired by Shinya Tokkyu, a classic Japanese travelogue by Kotaro Sawaki, I decided to travel abroad with a backpack. I had once been taken to Knoxville in the United States through a sister-city exchange, but this would be my first time traveling overseas on my own. Considering my limited salary as a resident, I chose Thailand as an affordable and exciting destination. By coincidence, one of my seniors from gastroenterology was also traveling to Thailand around the same time, so we arranged to meet there.
On August 21, I boarded a Cathay Pacific flight. I happened to sit next to a former international flight attendant, and we had a few drinks together. We said goodbye at Hong Kong International Airport, and I continued on to Bangkok. I arrived late at night, took a taxi I had reserved in Japan, and went to my hotel.
On August 22, under the suffocating heat, I headed to our meeting point, Hua Lamphong Station, the largest railway station in Thailand. I successfully met my senior—but he was accompanied by a woman. At first, I thought they had met during the trip, but it turned out she was his girlfriend from Japan. We boarded a train and traveled about 80 km north to Ayutthaya, an island city surrounded by the Chao Phraya River and its tributaries.
Once we arrived, our first task was to find a place to stay. I learned that hot showers, air conditioning, and a lockable room were essential. I chose a cheap guesthouse for 400 baht per night. We visited temples, including a massive reclining Buddha about 28 meters long, explored the bazaar, and enjoyed our time together.
That evening at the guesthouse, a tall Western woman in a blue tank top approached me and said, “Let’s chat together.” Embarrassed, I replied, “I’m busy,” and retreated to my room.
On August 23, I parted ways with my senior, who was heading further north, and I went south toward Pattaya Beach, hoping for a more relaxed trip. Back in Bangkok, I found a place to stay called White Lodge (400 baht per night).
On August 24, I explored Bangkok and watched Muay Thai (2,000 baht).
On August 25, I went to ISETAN in Bangkok. There, a petite, slightly chubby woman in her late 20s approached me in Japanese, saying she was Malaysian. She had studied at Toyo University for about three months. She said her younger sister would soon study in Japan and asked if I could help teach her Japanese, inviting me to lunch at her aunt’s house. Feeling a bit lonely traveling alone, I agreed.
Along the way, we met her brother (well-built) and her cousin (around 20 years old). In the taxi, they invited me to go dancing at a bar that night, but I declined. Her aunt’s house was a beautiful white house with a garden in a quiet residential area. Her aunt spoke a little Japanese, and her younger sister (slimmer, around 23) and uncle were also there. We had a Thai-style lunch—it was delicious. The uncle offered to teach me how to win at gambling, which felt suspicious, so I declined.
After lunch, the four of us—the sister, the younger sister, the cousin, and I—went to an amusement park (later I found it was likely Siam Park City). We walked around, took photos, and had a great time. Tired, the older sister and I sat down on a bench to rest. At some point, the younger sister and cousin disappeared. After a while, the younger sister returned. Soon after, the cousin came back holding orange juice bottles with their caps already opened.
Without thinking much, I lay down on a poolside reclining chair and drank the juice…
On August 26, I woke up in my hotel bed. My consciousness was hazy, and I could barely walk down the stairs. I had rashes across my arms and legs, like countless mosquito bites. My money—8,000 baht and 30,000 yen—along with my credit card, watch, digital camera, and electronic dictionary had been stolen. My passport, however, was left behind. According to the police, perpetrators sometimes leave passports so victims can return to their home countries.
Fortunately, I had hidden some US dollars in a back pocket of my backpack.
Struggling with my fading awareness, I made it to the lobby. There, I met a Japanese woman around my age. She said, “I heard you were found sleeping at an amusement park yesterday. Are you okay?” She and the hotel staff explained that I had been found collapsed in a place called “Nambai” (uncertain location) and brought back by the police.
She was heading to Khao San Road and kindly said, “Call me if you need help,” handing me her phone number. I was deeply moved by her kindness.
I went to the Japanese embassy and the police. They showed me many photos—and I recognized the family who had tricked me. The police told me they were Filipino.
On August 27, I rode on the back of a motorbike with a tourist police officer named Arm, who had lived in Japan, searching for the suspects. “Let’s trust your memory as a future doctor,” he said. I tried my best, but we couldn’t find them. Later, I walked through Patpong Road in heavy rain and looked at go-go bars from outside.
On August 28, I left Thailand for Hong Kong. While looking at the rural scenery of Thailand from the plane, I noticed my right hand was severely swollen. I stayed at Panda Hotel in Hong Kong.
On August 29, I rode the Star Ferry, featured in Shinya Tokkyu, and explored Hong Kong Island. I left Hong Kong and returned to Japan on August 30.
After returning, an MRI revealed a distal radius fracture and carpal bone fractures in my right hand. Looking back, I must have fallen and injured myself when the police transported me.
I’m grateful to be alive. I still have both kidneys. Even now, it’s terrifying to think about. And yet, the rural landscapes of Thailand I saw from the plane remain gentle and beautiful in my memory. Whenever I approached people myself, Thai people always greeted me with smiles.
I would like to visit Thailand again.
But when strangers approach you—
it’s best to be more cautious than you think necessary.
