(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.
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Samuel FryTraveller Archives
June 2011
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