(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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A 26 hour Tuk-Tuk, boat, bus, train and van ride was all that separated Koh Tao from Thailands second city
Chiang Mai. We headed north to see off the drinking as our livers were becoming as weak a Liberal Democrat leader (oooh Satire). Instead we saw off our drinks and found ourselves entering a smart Thai Nightclub in nothing more than a t-shirt, shorts and (as a result of full moon party anticts) odd pairs of flip-flops. Although initially unsure about our presence in the seemingly Thai only nightclub, the locals soon changed attitude and they were shooting glasses of Johnny Walker and frolicking with us like old friends. For me this was one of the first times I'd interacted with Thai people without them asking 'Where you go?' and trying to shove me into whatever vehicle they have at their disposal. Turns out these unexpectedly shy, reserved people are pretty kind and giving on their own turf - could have been the drink of course. The next day we felt compelled to find adventure, to find danger, to prove ourselves men. So we entered the jungle and into a kingdom of Tigers; whom we wrestled until they tapped out or were knocked out. In victory we ripped off our shirts, smeared ourselves with our own blood and sacrificed a lamb. Okay, I might have exaggerated some of that. Firstly, we were in a controlled environment with tiger trainers. Secondly, there wasn't technically any wrestling - just some casual stroking and belly rubbing. Thirdly, all that stuff about ripped shirts, blood, lambs etc. may have just been put in for effect (and the tigers were unfortunately quite sedated). But I stand by my statement about the tigers, there were definitely tigers there. On the subject of Tigers I have a riddle for you: Imagine you are in a forest surrounded by tigers. The tigers circle you in every direction. You have no equipment/tools to defend yourself, just your bare hands. The area in the middle of the tigers, in which you stand, is empty (no trees etc.). The tigers are about to attack. What do you do? See the bottom of this thread for the answer. After some Muay Thai training and ditching a rather Strange Girl that had tagged onto our (now somewhat smaller) group, we made like Lancastrians and headed for Pai. Pai is a small town near Chiang Mai, from where we were about to embark on a trek. The first day of which we rode elephants, swam by a small waterfall and hiked for three hours up and down mountains as sharp as teeth to a small hill tribe village. In truth, this first village was exciting, but felt quite falsified and over-visited as there was another tour group staying at the same time as us. Nevertheless, we made a fire, ate locally sourced food and ended the evening like Reeves and Mortimer and searched the sky for Shooting Stars. However, the next day this somewhat standard trek was to alter into a once in a lifetime journey. We had been getting on well with our tourguide Terry, a man who at 23 still lives in the hills and had not seen his first village until he was 17. Midway through our six hour trek, Terry decided that we could stay with his family in his village. Later we'd find out we were only the second group to visit his village and the previous group were there three years before. The hike was at times gruelling, but the destination (to quote Woolworths) was 'well worth it'. Once we arrived, we challenged the locals to a game of volleyball and spent the evening washing in rivers, killing chickens and integrating with village folk young and old over some home-made and seemingly lethal bamboo cups of rice whisky. Terry then suggested that he and his family spend another night with us treking further into the hills to hunt, make fire and sleep under the stars. Now on reflection, this may sound like the opening to a horror film as some lonely travellers get led by men with guns into an unknown forest, miles from anywhere. But as is evident from this rather lengthy blog and not simply two words stating 'help me' this was safe as wooden houses. The hunting wasn't that sucessful as the hill tribesmen left us westerners behind after a while to do it properly - they didn't catch anything. In the meantime I took a leaf out of their book and shot a tree (pun-cough). After drinking more rum than a pirate before an AA meeting, we slept fireside under stars and trees. We studied our surrounding and could do nothing but smile at each other; were quite content - again it could have been the drink of course. Down the hills, through a hilltop temple and a jump off a 10 meter high waterfall later, we drove and bamboo rafted back to Chiang Mai to see some familiar full moon faces (if any of them read this, I apologise your faces do not look moon shaped). After a couple of days I headed my own way off to Chiang Rai and my cheapest room to date at a mere 90 Baht room. Sure the lights didn't work and mosquitoes chewed me up like hubba-bubba, but at the equivalent of two pounds I couldn't really complain. Chiang Rai is further off the beaten track and so still witholds Thailands hippy past. I spent the evening sitting in a circle at Teepee Bar and singing Nirvana accompanied by a guitarist and Jools Holland's harmonicist. Heading towards Laos I stopped off for the night in Chiang Khong. A peaceful town, I made like Peter Andre and rode a bike about town. Later, peacefully listening to Belle and Sebastien, a man dressed in loose kharkis and a round flat cricket hat casually strolled up to me as I sat, book in hand, overlooking the Mekong river. He stalled, then through a strong American accent proclaimed with a knowing smile "hey, you're too relaxed man. Too relaxed." I smiled as he left. He was right. My bowls hadn't leaked, nor had I melted under the beaming sun down into the Mekong. By that merit he was quite wrong; I wasn't too relaxed. But despite the heat of the sun I was certainly chilled, very chilled. Answer to riddle: Stop imagining. I stood and stared curiously at the man infront of me. He was certainly taller and no doubt stronger than me, but I wasn't scared. I'd find out later that he had recently been training as a Muay Thai boxer and so any physical confrontation probably should have been avoided at all costs; but, in my eyes, I had little choice. What did he expect me to do? He had asked me a question and the small crowd around me were awaiting an answer.
Had I been sober I probably would have reacted differently. But in my hazy Rum ridden state there seemed no other option and besides, a few seconds had now past and the situation was becoming ever more risky. So I reacted as any man would. I clenched my fist, slowly raised back my arm and in one swift movement thrashed him across his Tom and Harrys. For a moment out eyes met. Mine crossed with fiery determination and a aire of curiosity; his initially aglaze with a smile that slowly drifted to a sickening fear. I paused and explained, 'yes. Yes I do know what the capital of Thailand is'. To smooth things over, I went for a drink or two. In fact, my for my first week in Thailand that's pretty much all I did. I had arrived on Khao San Road, for some, backpackers paradise - but it was messy. There were other sides to Bangkok though. The Grand Palace and Wat Prakeaw were golden and sparkly to attract the simplist of simpletons and so I was VERY attracted to them. Likewise, it was pretty amazing seeing the Emerald Buddha statue at Wat Phra Kaew. The background behind this being that despite travelling for hundreds of years across South-East Asia as an intricately carved wooden statue, only when it was damaged by a lightning storm in 1434 was its emerald treasure truly uncovered. It was impressive, until I got told off for taking pictures. Bangkok has odd smells. One corner whiffs you with incense, then some-kind of meat based concoction and finally with a derrière pong. I haven't seen any other pong yet, but that seems as easy to get to as a tuk-tuk. It's very easy to get a Tuk-Tuk. For the perversely tempted, Bangkok is the city of temptations. Heading south, next stop was Koh Phangan's Full Moon Party and a stay at The Dancing Elephant. Despite being somewhat disappointed with the lack of flamboyant trunks (although I did later purchase some pretty luminous swim shorts) I at least found myself some Yankedoodles, Criminals, Double-Dutch, Beefeaters and Canadians to hang around with. Some Green Curry later and (as usual) we went drinking. The beach, the beach, the beach was (at least partly) on fire! Fire ropes, fire limbo, fire hoops and fire entertainers flooded the sand; whilst, the air often had a few fireworks.... But at least there were a few buckets to deal with any imminent dangers. Unfortunately, I suspect these buckets would worsen the situation, containing as they did a full bottle of rum, a red bull and a can of coke (and by suspect I mean know, a firefighter kindly told me so). Thus, it was quite hot. So as a group we elected to cool off. Not in that nearby sea, no, instead we had the bright idea of delving into the on beach foam party. If you the reader (and I talk to you specifically not in that novelistic or radio presenter manner of making you feel individual and special, but rather as the readership of this blog is likely to be totalling one) take any advice from this blog be it this - beach foam parties are not a good idea. I left dressed as the Sahara. After a day on the beach, we spent the evening watching some Muay Thai Boxing. They were bashing each other for sixes and sevens. As some of them only looked six or seven, this made for quite a disturbing sight. Although, a few fights and drinks later we were all going at it hammers and tongs - I'd feel guilty later though, perhaps the tongs were a bit much. Hours later we were listing to the words "Barbra Streisand", "Riverside" and "We no speak Americano" on repeat until the cows came home. I did not bring any cows home, just a headache and some dirty clothes. The morning after, people hobbled and stumbled to find cups of tea and their own choice of fruit juice. Some hobbled more than others as many were burnt, scared or had some rather unfortunate sand rashes. But this wasn't everyone. Crashing through Amongst the zombies came bright eyed glowstick lovers with more energy than the duracell bunny. It was 12.30 and for some the party was still in full swing. Something tells me they weren't on the mango juice. Walking on the beach the next day was like walking in to a pub in Bermondsey, as I found myself trying my best not to be glassed - or at least my feet did. Instead, we jumped on a boat and headed over to the other side of the island to somewhere where this problem would siece to exist - the inappropriately named Bottle Beach. We spent the day playing ultimate frisbee and cutting up coconuts. I was going to start drinking again, but I lost my bottle... Ba dum dum splash. Partied out we headed to Koh Tao to baske in the sun and swim with the fish. It rained. However, after a day of rest, we went on a boat and snorkled around all of the bays. I saw sharks, Tiger fish, and more colours of fish than a rainbow. We finished the day at the picaresque Japanese Garden, it was a good way to finish. P.S. You look really good today and that top really suits you. |
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Samuel FryTraveller Archives
June 2011
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