(Bangkok, Thailand) –When Kentucky Men’s Basketball coach John Calipari recently told media that we “don’t know sh@#,” he was only partially right. For you see, I do know “sh@#” because I’ve had the trots ever since I landed in Bangkok. I understand it’s mostly my fault, though. The food is fantastic here and I just can’t help gorging myself. The problem is that the Thais like their food laced with chilies that could choke a Chinaman, so my bowels are more exhausted than Shai Alexander.

There’s food everywhere in Bangkok. From high-end eateries to run-down food stalls, you can find anything your palate desires 24 hours a day. I’ve already gulped down oysters as big as my fist, prawns the size of lobsters, and all sorts of slippery, slimy, fruit and veggie type things that wouldn’t make the cut in America. Street food is outrageously cheap, but like anything else in life, you pay your money and take your chances. The smells emanating from these food kiosks can be somewhat overwhelming. I don’t want to sound like the ugly American, but on the list of smelliest cities, Bangkok would rank near the top. It stinks here! The combination of fried grease and exotic spices mixing together with diesel fuel and auto exhaust is ever present and distinctly pungent. It’s similar to the Cats’ second half meltdown against South Carolina–not necessarily nauseating at first, but bothersome and irritating nonetheless.

What is nauseating is Bangkok traffic. I’ve driven in LA and it’s much worse here. Gridlock everywhere for hours at a time. It’s not chaotic like Cairo, nor brutal like Beijing. It’s actually quite orderly as Thai drivers are surprisingly courteous, there’s virtually no horn honking, and zero apparent road rage. It’s just that crawling along at two kilometers an hour on an eight-lane highway makes me want to gouge my eyes out and shove bamboo shivers up my fingernails. Patience is said to be a Fruit of the Spirit. It’s something I’m sorely lacking when it comes to sitting in Bangkok traffic.

Getting in my morning runs here in Bangkok has been a bit of a challenge also. In addition to the usual uneven pavements, potholes, and overhanging tree limbs encountered along urban sidewalks, you also have to dodge the omnipresent food stalls, motorcycle swarms, and the occasional strolling Buddhist monk—all while breathing in the suffocating auto exhaust. Kind of defeats the purpose of attempted aerobic exercise if you ask me. I also miss my dog on my runs. Every dog I’ve seen in Thailand appears lethargic and listless, beaten up by life and waiting to be featured on the next bootlegged Chinese restaurant menu.

Outside of Bangkok, it’s much more pleasant. My sojourns along the beaches of Hua Hin provided me ample opportunities to relax and recharge. Imagine waking up to glorious 80-degree temperatures and a fabulous sunrise, with someone to bring you a tropical drink or to trim your neglected toenails at every beck and call. Check your modesty at the door if you choose to get the herbal body scrub and exfoliate treatment. You’re getting EVERY part of your body scrubbed and exfoliated.

And now, a word about Thai massages—they are grossly overrated. First of all, they hurt. You know you’re in trouble when you pay for the session behind the curtain. Having the Thai version of Attila the Hun slapping my calves with impunity, poking wooden rods up my insoles and making my vertebrate pop like firecrackers on the Fourth of July just wasn’t my cup of tea. At one point he performed a move on me worthy of any WWF escape maneuver—probably classified as chiropractic malpractice in the States, but here it’s just comic amusement at the poor foreigner’s expense. You’ve been warned.

And finally, nobody with obvious Kentucky ties has yet approached me on this trip. I’ve been sporting the BLUE every single day trying to attract fellow citizens of BBN for some engaging conversation. So far, no takers. The cute couple with matching Lebron jerseys and the Thai dude shooting hoops in Kyrie Irving gear were oblivious to my braggadocio about reppin the greatest tradition in the history of college basketball. Now after the Cats’ crushing loss to the Gators, I’m just looking for someone to commiserate with in the worst way.

Sigh! Such is life in this part of the world, where no one cares but me. Go Cats!

John Huang is a columnist for Nolan Group Media and Bluegrass Sports Nation publications. If you enjoy his writing, you can read more at www.huangswhinings.com or follow him on Twitter @KYHuangs.