(As of 14/03/2011)
It was back to Bangkok and back to the noodlishous wonders of street Pad Thai. Infact, if i moved to Bangkok I think I'd name my house after it. After a night with a very unusual dimly lit theatre show, after which even Boris Johnson would refuse to admit Ping-pong was British, I headed south to begin an epic chain of bus journeys which had it been in england would have put pound signed eyes and an even bigger grin on the face of Mr Megabus. As tends to be the trend across Asia, the journey was highly more difficult than buying the ticket had been. The 6 O'Clock bus left at 8.30, stopped off several times on route, told us all to get off at 6 AM to change for a new bus which came at 11.30 and but a mere 6 stops later arrived in Phuket at 5 PM (just 6 hours after its ETA). The whole experience left me more irritable than a cat covered in itching powder. I subsequently booked a flight to Singapore. On the plus side I did get to see the film War, starring Jason Stratham and Jet Li. I learnt a lot. Although, in truth most of these lessons reflected my main general discovery - not to watch films that primarily star Jason Stratham and Jet Li. So i had arrived in Phuket, a city where old men lust over young Thai women whilst other men lust over becoming young Thai women. On reflection, Phuket makes you feel more perverted than Silvio Berlusconi at a cheerleading competition. I stared a while at that reflection afterward, by Joe it was horrible (Joe being the artist that drew my image in the first place of course - he's useless). What is impressive is the accepted flamboyance of Ladyboys across the city. In a country full of highly reserved people, it's pleasing to see that they except such gender choices without a hint of judgement. What wasn't so pleasing was the touching; well, at least for me. It's difficult to go into a bar on your own without attracting at least some unusual attention, especially if you go into the wrong bar. By bar, I of course mean the wrong bar: the wrong restaurant, shop, hotel... street. However, the strangest occurrence during my time in Phuket was the unease surrounding the potential for a tsunami. Although we were on the opposing coast to any possible problems as a result of the Japanese earthquakes, a general sense of worry was filtering through the atmosphere as people worried about their next destination or those friends caught in more dangerous areas. When I flew to Singapore, this was enhanced by a large Japanese population worrying for family back home. Singapore, which the dictionary defines as 'what Yoda would say if he judged the X Factor', unsettled me for a number of reasons. The main reason was that having been away for a few months, the city seemed shinier than a panini sticker. Consequently, with lights seemingly shimmering off every surface, I was feeling as dizzy as a penguin on the tea cups. Apart from some money and visa issues, Singapore was a great city to stay in. From little India, to Chinatown to the Arab quarter - Singapore is about as multicultural as a city can get. So I ate Chinese, stayed in India and watched the FA cup... sounds like my kind of city.
0 Comments
(As of 07/03/2011)
The three men sat and stared at me from the other side of the desk, eyes full of disgust. Their uniforms were sharply ironed and their boots immaculately polished; yet, amongst each of their worn down, haggard faces were eyes that told more than they wished would be revealed. They had seen it all before. They'd had this same conversation far more often than daily, but what could they do? There was a procedure and until everyone else had disappeared, nothing could be done. So instead they just sat there staring; clinging on to as much authority as they could retain. But from my view they had already forsaken that authority. They forsook it the moment they had decided to bend those rules that they enforced. The moment they had decided to charge that little bit more. A stamp here, a form there: 'how could a few extra dollars affect these guys?' they thought. What they didn't realise was that this guy didn't have any extra dollars. He was as powerless as them. They had a standstill on their hands, for now at least. It was hard for them to keep it up. Their uniforms, which would have looked daunting in most other situations, were undermined by the dilapidated wooden shack in which they were sat. They strove to appear menacing; instead they appeared as inept school boys. Thus, It hung there like the heaviest of White elephants until the last person was finally out of ear shot. Once gone, they asked me 'if you have no other dollars, what do you have?' I threw some unusable Korean change their way and they broke, stamped my form and let me go my own way. Easy as that. Maybe I'm more intimidating than I thought. I had crossed the border into Cambodia, a country with a turbulent history: centuries of war, mass genecide, corrupt governments... maybe arguing at the border wasn't the wisest move. Yet, what struck me when I first arrived in Phnom Penh was the warmth of it's people. You see, they were slow roasting over a garden grill... Well no, there were no such spectacular occurrences. As clockwork, disembarking from the bus, we were greeted by a stampede of hustling Tuk-tuk drivers and consequently each of us retreated from conversation and became stiffer than frozen poppets. Once we realised we actually needed a lift and began talking to them and it immediately became noticeable that they were more humble and humorous than their Laoation and Thai counterparts and moreover, their English was excellent. Retrospectively, this impressed us further a couple days later when visiting The Killing Fields. After being guided around by eye witnesses of the monstrous actions of the Khmer rouge, the local's positivity seemed amazing. They may unknowingly live alongside their vicious perpetrators, but boy do they make the most of it. The long bus journey the next day seemed by now as regular as noodle dinners. We headed for Siem Reap, riverside touristville and Market extravaganza... but most famous for it's ancient temples at Angkor Wat. The day began at 4.30. So after one day failing the complicated task of waking, we grabbed our bikes and rode through the darkness to watch Angkor Wat appear amongst the sunrise. Once the sun had rose, we continued to Angkor Thom - a maze of towering sculptures of faces where every corner unmasks something different. Not so much 2 faced, but it can definitely be taken at face value. After a few hours cycling under the heat of day we began to wish that sun would put on it's hat and glasses turn around and go back to bed as it's rays were making us sweatier than a blind man on a type-rope. At the end of the day, we dropped off our sweat soaked bikes and headed to pub street to begin our very own tour de dance. I wish I'd had longer. (As written 28/02/2011)
It was time to make like Jenson Button and pull over for a pit stop. We'd reached Vientiane: capital of Laos. The city of Temples, wide roads and a mean Greek salad. But it wasn't easy. The plan been to Kayak down the Mekong from Vang Vieng and escape the world of drinking for something at least resembling culture. Drinking had done to our livers what Elephants do to peanuts and after ignoring its whines for a while it was probably right that we needed a break. Yet, as a result of a friends weakend stomach and even weaker balance it was not to be, as he passed out limper than a Wet Wet Wet fan running into Marti Pellow in a hotel room. Unfortunately, this guy passed out of the kayak, face down into the river. It wasn't worth getting back in so we took-took a tuk-tuk all the way down. For a capital city Vientiane was surprisingly small. More European, than Asian - it was the perfect place to recharge those Duracells and and make our belly's better with a stomach full of feta. After a day or two we were feeling spritely and energetic, so fittingly jumped in a bus that wouldn't have looked out of place on the forecourt of Barbie's mansion. The destination: Thakhet, known for some beautiful caves. As it turned out they were 200 Kilometers away - but we decided: Thakhet let's do it anyway. We packed into buses and boats with new 'one day' buddies. Travelling is the easiest way to make friends. Even if I dressed as a teddy bear with a 'free hugs' t-shirt, giving out glasses of Pimms I still son't think I'd make friends as easily. As for the cave: What a hole.. in a good way of course. Next on the Samgenda was to head down south. But we were feeling adventurous, we were feeling exploratory and most importantly we were feeling cheap. So we made like Arthur Dent, stuck out our dirtied traveller thumbs and Hitchhiked. About 3 hours, 3 journeys and only about 30 Kilometres later we decided that it may be simpler to get a bus. It was. After a brief one night stay in Pakse, we headed south in a Tuk-tuk that was packed tighter than a pringles packet. Despite a few avalanches of meat saleswomen, we arrived at 4,000 around midday. A short boat ride later and we were in a paradise of riverside huts and hammocks. Days drifted casually as we rode bikes, floated on rubber rings and drank more fruit shakes than can possibly be described as innocent. Having felt like I'd been there Don Deth, I left for Cambodia feeling as chilled as those ice cold shakes. |
Details
Samuel FryTraveller Archives
June 2011
Categories
All
|