RaveBurbleBlog

That night we had a rum on the guesthouse balcony, whiling away the time watching a little toad nearby hop around harvesting insects. A cute little brown guy who blended in so well with his surroundings, you’d miss him if you weren’t reptile-spotting fools like ourselves. Well, Gill had a rum or two and I had the remains of a hip flask of whiskey that was still gracing my bag from the final night in Chiang Mai. Just tidying things up, you understand. A bad night’s sleep was had, due to the heat and humidity and the fan’s ability to do nothing more than shift the heat from one part of the room to another, then back again. I started to actually look forward to the colder weather back in New Zealand and had fantasies about snuggling under feather duvets and wearing more than one layer of clothes.

Our last day in Bangkok found us doing one more round of the Khao San area, for something to do and to escape the heat of our sauna room. Oh, for a verandah off our room once more, to poke our heads over and catch breezes, even the slightest of which is almost exciting in such stifling heat. Waterfight anyone? We realised, in retrospect, just how lucky we had been in Chiang Mai, with Chow delivering free buckets of ice to our room whenever we fancied it, a private bathroom to shower in at any time and fresh air right outside our bedroom door.

In one of the many shops we meandered into, I had the cheek to ask how much an item was. When the guy told me, I said ‘no thanks’, as I didn’t have anywhere near enough money for it, even with a hefty discount, and I didn’t want to waste his time. This guy was having a bad hair day for sure, because he kept asking me to name a price. I said ‘no thanks’ again a couple of times, but something had lit his fuse and he wouldn’t drop the subject. ‘Why you no tell me no price?!’ he yelled after a while. ‘Don’t talk to me like that’ I said and started to walk out of the shop. He still kept on and I had to keep walking before we actually came to blows or something. I walked into another shop one or two doors down, and who should walk in? Yep, the same guy. He worked in that shop too! He went to the back of the shop and started slamming things around in a temper, so I made myself scarce again. Goodness me, I guess I didn’t read the paper the day that Thailand passed a law that it’s a crime to not buy something. Consequently, the next stall vendor that spoke pleasantly actually got some money out of me. And so now, somewhat ironically considering my feelings on the creatures, I am wearing a bracelet that consists of a snake’s backbone.

We found a little gateway into the Wat and slipped through to find some food stalls and lovely tall, shady trees. A few monks wandered around and a dog or two, and we lingered over fried rice and soup. It’s funny how the last day or two of a journey almost don’t count, because you spend them mentally packing your bags and anticipating lugging baggage through two lots of airports and customs and other such logistics. That night, we yet again graced the guesthouse balcony and sat at a table next to a couple of French guys and an Argentinian. The French guys were blatantly chatting up an English women at the table on the other side of them, and at one stage turned around to catch us rolling our eyes at her. They asked if we understood French, to which I replied ‘Tres petite’ and so they explained that they were teaching their Argentinian friend chat-up lines from French movies. I just hope the guy never uses them, ‘cos the girls are more likely to slap his face or run away if he tries…

It turned out they were really nice young men and we had a fine old yak about French movies, rugby (they were gracefully brief about mentioning the World Cup), politics, America, the media and the Rainbow Warrior affair - about which they cringed and apologised several times over. Like they could help what their government does any more than we can help what ours gets up to. From what they said, the French people were extremely embarrassed about that whole affair, and very ashamed. I had only bought the subject up because I was curious as to what the French government and media had told the average guy on the street about it. Turns out they didn’t know about the bombers receiving medals upon returning to France. Funny how some things don’t quite get round to being told.

The next day rolled around finally and it was time to leave at last. We shared a taxi with a Chinese girl, all giggling at how the taxi driver and his friend had to strongly exercise their lateral thinking skills to get all our luggage as well as ourselves in. She was really nice and harked from the same area in China that the Terracotta Warriors were found in and gave us both a keyring each from her home town. She said she liked to bring things from her hometown to give to others when she was travelling and we were pretty impressed by the thoughtfulness of that, coming from a fairly young person.

The airport scenario was surprisingly straight forward, considering all the news coverage about the ’swine flu’. Same thing when we landed in New Zealand. We got handed a piece of paper with info on it about the flu when we walked up the ramp from the plane, and that was about it. Pretty low key, when you think how the papers have been front-paging it for several days. I still didn’t dare sneeze though and tried to look as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as it is possible to look when you’ve just spent 12 hours trying to sleep sitting up in a one-foot-square space. Customs didn’t have a problem with my bow and arrow - just inspected it for holes in the wood - but they spotted my Thai axe pillow, dammit, which is apparently stuffed with hay, so that went off for treatment and I won’t see it until next week when I’ve forked out a bit more money for that. So it goes. It was a wee bit stressful, considering Thai airways had put our flight back by an hour so we had that much less time to get to Manukau and catch our bus home, but turned out the bus was late, so all was good. We paid a killer taxi fee compared to Thai tuk-tuk prices though. We could’ve eaten for two weeks on the money we forked out to him!

The last and final irony of the trip was having no transport from the bus stop to our house - all of a couple of km’s away. We could get all the way to North Thailand and back but not from the bus stop to home! Nobody I could think of was home or available to give us a lift and to top it off, the weather was cold and looking like raining. We came up with a plan to get around it, albeit a somewhat long-winded one, but then our wonderful local travel agent came to our rescue, turned up with her car and ferried us home. Thanks again Seugnet, you’re still our heroine.

So, we are now safely ensconsed in our homes once again and the Great Journey to Thailand is complete. So cheers all, we’re safe and sound, haven’t been bombed or shot, fallen out of a rickshaw or contracted a piggy disease and the trip was brilliant fun. Love to you all, and may I suggest that if you want an interesting, cheapish holiday, wander on up to Chiang Mai and say gidday to Chow for us.

Sawasdee Kha

The train journey was fine. The seats were a little smaller than last time, but they still turned into good beds so all was well. We sat with another English couple - she has just spent a year in Chiang Mai studying Thai, the lucky thing. Apparently she speaks it with a Yorkshire accent though. We arrived in Bangkok at about 6.am and The train journey from Chiang Mai to Bangkok was fine. The seats were a little smaller than last time, but they still turned into good beds so all was well. We sat with another English couple - she has just spent a year in Chiang Mai studying Thai, the lucky thing. Apparently she speaks it with a Yorkshire accent though. We got to watch a beautiful sunset, sleep through the night and arrived in Bangkok at about 6.am and found ourselves being rushed around by a guy with a trolley, who loaded our luggage onto it then charged us 80 baht at the other end of the station, cheeky bugger. We were then shuffled onto a tuk-tuk by a driver who spoke of 50 baht while our feet were still on the ground, then after he’d loaded our (admittedly significantly sized) luggage on and tied it up with rope and took off with us on board, turned around and shouted ‘300 baht’. I bit my tongue until we got to our guesthouse then had a wee bit of a chat with him about this. He got a little irate that I had the mortal cheek to argue over the price with him but eventually we met half way and off he flew, probably raining curses upon us and 3 of our future generations. Welcome back to Bangkok!

Gill had lost her little electric kettle somewhere along the way, so we had to go and fork out for coffee for the first time during this trip. It costs more to have a coffee than it does to have a meal around these parts. And then the service was rude. Just to get up their noses, I poured our milk into a saucer and gave it to the cat. After all, it had cost us a small fortune. They weren’t very amused, but tough toenails. The cat enjoyed it and I enjoyed my tiny moment of rebellion.

We settled into our cell - one window and a small fan mounted on the wall - shifted the beds to the other side of the room so the fan actually had some effect on the inhabitants rather than being useless and ornamental, and wandered back outside to take a tuk-tuk to Pahurat, the Indian district of Bangkok. My mission was to find some indian toothpaste to take back home. Turned out to be a mission all right! We walked up and down the street about 4 times before we finally found an Indian person. I bought a shirt off her, I was so glad to see her. And she was so glad to see us that she gave me some gorgeous blue bangles. About an hour later, I noticed my arm was turning blue. Ahh, India. I was looking part Shiva by the time I got to bed last night.

Finally, several corners past where it was reputed to be, we found the ‘Indian Emporium’. There was an Indian guy in a saree standing outside the door dancing. He was advertising goodness knows what and for a while we sat near the door and amused ourselves by watching the reactions of the public when they saw him. Actually, for an Indian, he wasn’t a very good dancer. I told him he needed to stick his hips out more if he wanted to look feminine - I wonder if he tried it. I took a quick wander along the Indian stalls outside the emporium and was pretty shocked at how dear it was. Having been to India, I know what the real prices are for a lot of the stuff and they’re charging an arm and a leg and another leg for what really should only cost a few fingers. But, yes Paul, I got some toothpaste.

On the way home our tuk-tuk broke down so we had to get out and walk. We cruised down Khao San road, which is a major backpackers area around here, and sat at a bar half way along for a Sprite. It’s quite an amusing road to watch. We saw a pirate go by with large plastic boobs and electric guitar sunglasses, a fair variety of westerners with sweat pouring off them as they walked in the midday sun and your usual run of Khao San ladyboys. Some of them are quite convincing, but a few of them need to take lessons on how to walk like a female.

Back to our sauna/cell for a snooze. Then we went back out and explored the other end of our road, which is tucked behind a Wat not too far from the river. Turns out it’s a dead end, but we got directed up some stairs, down some others, through a cafe and out onto the street by Khao San again! Seems we can’t avoid this place. So, what else to do but have some street food and go for another wander. Then back to bed, as it’s not only hot here but very humid as well. You can have a cold shower, but by the time you’ve got back to your room you’re hot again! However, on the bright side, Gill found her kettle, so this morning we were able to enjoy the luxury of 2 coffees - each! Heh heh. We sat under a frangipani tree savouring them and watching chipmunks play tightrope walker along the power lines.

We were actually up quite early for two reasons - one, because we went to bed so early, and two, because of the enthusiasm of at least 7 roosters on the other side of the Wat wall. I actually woke up (before dawn, damn them) having written a poem about them in my subconscious, irritated state. It goes like this:

Oh cockerals, how keen are thee
To outcrow those who whisper not
Methinks the contest prize should be
A hatchet sharp and boiling pot.

The things you think of in your sleep huh?

Anyway, well fortified by some good solid caffeine, we struck out for a jaunt along the river - which of course we had to find first. Having dived down an alleyway and walked along a road for a bit, we came across a tuk-tuk driver who said we had at least an hour’s walk yet to get there. Fortunately, we turned down his offerings of a 1000 baht fling around Bangkok in his little vehicle and turned the next corner to find ourselves looking at the river. Grrr.

Note: I saw a taxi go by this morning with an ‘I (heart) Farangs’ sticker on the window (I love foreigners). I felt like stopping and writing ‘bahts’ next to the Farang bit. Bangkok does this to me - I get really cynical around these people. They just don’t get that a little pleasantness goes a long way, no matter who you are nor how rich or poor. And telling porky pies does not help us (farangs) build any trust with them.

Anyhow, after a walk along the riverfront and running the gauntlet of ‘only 1000 baht’ river boat rides, we got ourselves a 120 baht all day pass and spent the day hopping on and off the taxi boats and having a lovely old time. We got off God only knows where and had the best bowl of noodle soup we’ve had in Thailand, then we went and saw the Reclining Buddha, who is a heck of a lot bigger than I thought he would be (he’s 50 foot high or something ridiculous, and that’s lying down!) and the surrounding compound which is so ornate it reminded me of a whole bunch of birthday cakes, wandered around Chinatown, which teems with red and gold stuff and plastic things and back on the boat to go as far as we could go and back again. Good fun and it was a lot cooler that being in our sauna/cell or spending the day avoiding dodgy tuk-tuk drivers.

So, we’re back home at the guesthouse and I’m off to find the hip flask of whiskey I stashed in my luggage somewhere in Chiang May and watch the goldfish out in the garden that are hopefully scoffing the man-eating mosquitoes.

Sawasdee Kha