Long Trips, Long Waits & Dodgey Cafes
By Rupert
To you vagabond’s out there a thirteen hour bus journey is a walk in the park, but this is the first time my arse has been sat on a not very VIP hard as the suspension on this bus seat (it feels like the bus bottoms out when it hits a pebble AWOL on the road), with a vent above my head blowing air at a temperature penguins would gladly huddle round and snigger at the ridiculous amounts of words Eskimo’s have for snow.
Laura’s fallen asleep or at least trying to, and I feel I’ve had this surge of creative flare that shouldn’t be put to waste, although I’m probably mistaking it for a sugar boost from the sickly quantities of Thai chocolate stick’s called Pocky that are very similar if not exactly the same to what the French call Matchsticks (if I remember rightly), which we consumed in preparation for this epic haul to Koh Samui.
We never intended to visit this part of Thailand until later in our trip, possibly after we’ve come back from India tired, sun burnt, curried out and in search for a paradise beach with crystal clear waters to dip our toes in. It’s completely my fault, having got carried away with meeting and hitting it off like old friends with a pair of cool characters I didn’t feel it necessary to check the Lonely Planet book to see exactly where it was that we had just booked a bus ride to. It was only when the cool couple got their LP book out and we huddled round to check out the surrounding islands to visit that the error dawned on me. I wasn’t that far off, there was a Koh Somet in the direction we had intended to head, and besides, it only cost us eight hundred Baht (about eleven pounds) for the both of us. Not bad for a ride out of grimsome Bangkok and into White Beaches R Us. Shame that when we boarded the bus it occurred to us the couple we’d been so eager to follow in the opposite direction of our semi-planned itinerary was no where to be seen. Later, Laura caught sight of them as we passed another, more flashy looking, bus; we’d see them on the other end at least, but the card games and banter will be restricted to the two of us for the next thirteen hours, it seemed we were the only English speaking people on this bus.
I’ve decided the integral ingredient to an overnight bus journey, what separates this voyage from a National Express luxury smooth cruise, is the one stop to stretch the legs and, for the brave, fill the stomachs, at a rickety lay-by cafe, This one was everything you could wish for in authenticity brilliance. A corrugated roof – held in place with faith alone – housed old school chairs, a noodle bar on wheels, another cart with six authentic, back-lane made Thai dishes and a stool at the back favoured mostly by our party complete with canned drinks and stale cookies. I began brave and ordered a chicken in coconut Thai dish from the scary looking mammoths manning the station. Surprising myself that the action of the lady serving my salad with her hand didn’t put me off my entire plate of food, I took two whole mouthfuls before considering the risks out weighed my need to consume anything more than stale cookies and a Sprite.
Laura came back from the toilet with a face of disgust equalled in impressiveness only by the time when I suggested we live in a camper van when we return from our adventures. This begged me to take the tour, so considering the alternative -to wait until we’re back on the bus and practice my aim at a moving target- I ducked under the loud Thai singing TV that the staff were transfixed to when not serving us and made for the toilet at the back of the large open hut.
I’m not sure I’ve relieved myself in worse, but I didn’t think it was fully worthy of Laura’s expression. Sure the cubicles were a simple four unpainted -but with alien markings dotted about it’s surface I’d rather not guess the origin of- concrete walls, a shallow hole accommodating what appeared to be representing local water (presumably this small floor-trough was pretending to be the Baden -if that’s the name of them- although I’m fairly confident neither hands or behind are better off after use), and a typical Eastern style -crouch and balance tentatively- toilet; but that wasn’t looking too stained. I held back for the hand sanitiser we had brought with us but left on the bus, deciding the brown water intruding the sink was little cleaner than what I had just deposited.
Roads in Thailand seem to vary in quality and existence, and when on the top floor of a bus you know about it when conditions change. The bottoming out was something I got used to, although the first time I thought a wheel had erupted into flames, or perhaps we’d hit an elephant. When the highway turned to a dirt track and the bus didn’t slow down, it would cause a bit of swaying I can only imagine was similar to the bus we were following for some time that would fly from left to right like it had entered the sea during a tsunami.
I tried to sleep. We both brought those inflatable wrap around pillows I’ve heard so much hatred for but figured it’s got to have some use. And it did, sort of. Laura had cleverly left hers in her backpack, which was now safely stored away somewhere under us , so we used initiative and took a side each, occasionally taking it in turns to give it a whirl solo. I can announce our five pounds would have been better spent on some quality tranquilisers, but it did get some use so wasn’t completely wasted.
Rudely awoken for the second time with fluorescent lights and bus driver shouting the last stop, it was five thirty in the morning and time to leave the bus and board the boat. It was then critical information the travel agency decided to hold back on came to light; the bus did the trip in eleven hours and the boat wasn’t departing for another three, leaving plenty of time for us to spend our money on small, expensive cups of tea and five Baht trips to the toilet. Refusing to pay-to-pee I went for a stroll and found myself a secluded corner of the surrounding tropics.
Tags: South of Thailand, Thailand, Travel
Monkey
Long bus journeys are so so wrong
Hello from Brissle, sorry bout mamas posting the other day – i shouldnt have let her loose on the comp!! new fangled technology etc, she likes to think shes up with things. hows the arse cheeks after that journey from hell? have u got piles/varicose veins now?…
Loving all this website stuff by the way, is much better than all the others on this boots thingy site. Well ill be off, was just a hello, speak soon jenna xxxxxxx
Hiya
Your writings are great, I hadnt realised how good copy you write. Good to see so many adventures being packed away so quickly, 12 days gone so far and so much has been seen already.
Anyway your room is now emptied out and prep for painting – Fay thinks white or cream; so I guess your blinding red and orange wasnt to her taste.
As the old quote goes “keep on trucking”
Dad/Henry
Ahhh the memories, i did exactly the same journey, i feel your pain man (and woman)!
Enjoy the islands!!!
Hey Jenna,
It’s good to hear that Jeanette is surfing the web. Modern Mothers! Maybe Mum and her could get together for a civilised wine and cheese evening with a couple of internet books; teach each other a thing or two 🙂
Hope all is well at the new pad. I am looking forward to visiting a “tidy room” when I return! … You have a good year to get your act together and get the duster out.