Farang Trang
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The rain pelted down with renewed strength as we reached Nakon Si Thammarat. (The adage that the east coast of Thailand is sunny when the west coast is wet due to ‘different climate systems’ is rubbish. According to the Lonely Planet, the Andaman coast—where we were headed—is simply the wettest of them all. This is the dry season.)
We boarded the microbus to Trang to the drumbeat of rain drops on a tin roof. The minivan driver had delivered us directly to the correct shelter for the Trang service, thanks to the old man who’d sat next to me.
“Where is your destination?” he said quietly in flawless English, which took me so aback that I asked him to repeat himself.
“Trang.”
“Phuket?”
“No, Trang.”
“Phuket.”
“No sorry, Trang. I have a map.” I fumbled for my guidebook.
The old man peered at the map and said “Phuket.”
He really wanted to help. Perhaps he was conveying that I was making a mistake by insisting on going to Trang.
I pointed at the map. “Trang Islands. Very beautiful. Koh Libong, Dugongs. National park.” Remembering the colour map in front of the book, I turned to it. Perhaps it was clearer since I had marked both Khanom and Koh Libong with red crosses.
The old man fumbled around in his bag and—after a while—produced a pair of glasses.
“Ah…Trang.”
He gestured and I leafed back to the map of the Andaman coast. He peered closer, then opened his bag again and rummaged deeper, eventually pulling out a case which he opened with great care to reveal an enormous magnifying glass. “My eyesight is not so good.”
By now we were driving through Thakon and people were getting off in ones and twos.
The old man carefully stowed away the magnifying glass and addressed the driver while he put his glasses carelessly somwhere in the top of his bag. I was praying that he wouldn’t lose or drop them when he pulled out something else.
He had spoken quiety throughout, but now he was talking to the driver in the strong, clear voice of a much younger man. It carried right across the minivan. I only understood two words.
“FARANG TRANG!”
No sooner had he made certain that the driver understood than he hastily bade me goodbye and got out. I hope he hadn’t overshot is stop in his eagerness to help me.
So it was that we were conveyed to the cover of a roof with a fruitseller and ticket desk inside and the Trang microbus waiting outside.
They don’t call this the Land of Smiles for nothing.
Tags: SE Asia, Travel, Tag Index
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