Thailand – A Sensory Massage

So, after eighteen months of globe-trotting, taking in three continents and many more countries, now en route to Taiwan, I find myself back in Suratthani. My home for over a year, I grew to love this sleepy, unpretentious little town more than I could have imagined and damn, it’s good to be back. For the past week and a half I’ve been intending to write this post but I’ve been lulled into inaction by the soporific blend of comfort and sensory massage which has welcomed me home.

Every one of my senses has been treated since leaving the cold, grey shores of the People’s Republic Of Scotia and returning to the Land Of Smiles. My vision was the first to be assaulted – from the second I disembarked in Bangkok there were explosions of colour all around me. No more monochrome skies and dull sandstone architecture, now it was all vibrant hues drenching me wherever I cast my gaze. From the fruit stalls to the pink taxis, from extravagant displays adorning Siam Paragon to the ubiquitous advertising banners draped over every storefront, it was like walking through a rainbow. The sky sealed the deal for me, an intensely blue canopy covering Thailand and keeping it safe from the outside world, such a unique, perfect, pure shade it’s almost an eighth colour in itself.

Almost simultaneously I noticed the auditory transition, the aggressive bludgeoning of my native tongue (Scots, that is) slyly replaced by the rapid-fire tonality of Thai. The language which confounded me when I first hit these shores in 2009 now sounds so welcoming, so pleasantly familiar, that I’m angry at myself  for not keeping up with my own burgeoning linguistic skills. And of course there’s the music – the endless K-pop derivatives and blasphemous lounge-jazz classic rock covers which managed to worm their way into my heart. Yes I complain about the music here but there’s nonetheless something strangely comforting about singing along to a slice of pop cheese when you don’t even understand the lyrics, let alone know if you’re even making the right noises.

Taste and smell, so closely linked, received their treatments at the same time, passing the first street-food vendor I met. Words can’t describe the wonder of real Thai cooking – by which I mean Thai food cooked in Thailand using authentic, fresh Thai ingredients. The smells have me salivating instantly, indescribable aromas which set my stomach to rumble mode – and set my eyes to watering depending on the amount and species of chili used. I’ve been choosing my meals carefully, making sure to revisit my old haunts and favourite dishes while I have the chance – my daily staple of khao krapraw muu kai dao from the bridge restaurant, larb muu, muu daa deaw and khao niaw from the isan place on Donnok and, of course, my post-weights-session reward of Crack Chicken ™ on Karunrat. I hear Taiwan plays host to even tastier Chinese food than you find in China itself but it’s got a lot to live up to for someone coming from this culinary paradise.

The tactile difference in being here can be at times more subtle but also much more dramatic than the other senses. On leaving the airport I felt myself wrapped in two comfort blankets, both of which I’d dearly missed during a three-month Winter sojourn in Scotland, Canada and the Mid-West. Namely, the glorious, constant, life-affirming heat, and the ever-present humidity which can be the bane of new arrivals but which is missed the instant you enter drier climes.

It’s more than meteorological though, and more than just physical feelings. It’s the inner feelings that make all the difference, that confirm the rightness of my choice to make this land my home for a year and to return as soon as I had the chance. They don’t call this the Land Of Smiles for nothing. After a sleeper train from Bangkok to Surat and a bus from the station into town I donned my bulging rucksack and made the short walk along Donnok to my former home. I don’t exaggerate in the slightest when I say that almost every single shopkeeper on that road greeted me with smiles, laughter and exclamations of “You’re back!”, “Where you go?”, “Not seen you long time!”. People I’d not exchanged more than a few words with over the course of a year suddenly treated me like a long-lost son after just a few months absence. Returning to see actual friends, farang and Thai alike, was even more welcoming – night-long chats with Joy, Alex telling me I have to come and drink outside his shop every night, catching up with former colleagues, it’s been non-stop in an exhausting but thoroughly wonderful way.

Even the simplest of things – suddenly having three or four weeks in one place, allowing me to join a gym for a non-extortionate period of time – has made a world of difference to my outlook. After three months of sedentary living, over-eating, nicotine and alcohol I was putting on weight, feeling lethargic and occasionally threatening to lapse back into old ways of thinking, dark ways I’d left behind a long time ago. No more though, I’m back at my old gym, slowly getting my body back into some semblance of shape, just ran my first 10km in god-knows how long and feeling on top of the world for it.

I can’t say this loudly or often enough. Forget spending money on bullshit hippy new-age medicines and the like – frickin’ homeopathy, astrology, whatever – ditch all the self-help books, untangle yourself from whatever web of responsibilities you’ve been weaving for yourself since you left school and get moving. Get to Thailand, or Vietnam, or Ghana, or Chile, or wherever calls you the loudest. Treat your senses, your body, your spirit/soul if you believe in such things – treat them to change, to a new world, to refreshing experiences. Revive them, revitalise them (dammit, I sound like a shampoo commercial now) before they start to decay beyond repair.

Choose life. Choose freedom. Choose travel. Choose sipping ice coffees in the jungle just minutes from your home while telling your friends back home what they’re missing in the Land Of Smiles…

Choices, choices

Right, I’m  in a generally good mood today for several reasons but first I’ve got to get one thing off my chest. Today is the one full day I have to spend in KL without bothering myself with transport and the accompanying stress and time-vacuum effect. So this morning, with a stomach full of toast, coffee and adventurous spirit I set out to tackle the Islamic Arts Centre, Planetarium, bird park, butterfly park and surrounding attractions.

I hadn’t counted on one thing though – today just happens to be one of the biggest holidays in the Muslim calendar so pretty much everywhere except the mall at Petronas Towers (bastion of capitalism that it is) is closed. Seriously, I walked in sweltering heat and humidity, through a subway tunnel inch-deep in foul, piss-smelling liquid, only to be forced to turn back and retrace my steps after three closed doors in a row. Seriously Allah? Do I piss you off that much? Fucker…

But I’m not letting such petty concerns get me down. I’ve just restored my faith in humanity by visiting a genuine, honest-to-goodness bookstore for only the third time since arriving in Thailand, I’ve got a reasonably tasty coffee and free wireless. Time to contemplate the future.

As I mentioned before, the future lays sprawled out before me like a blank canvas (minus ten intellect points for tedious cliché), serenely awaiting whatever hellish shitstorm of paints, crayon and pink glitter I choose to inflict on it. I’m narrowing down my choices, weighing the options, but time marches relentlessly onwards like a drunk Glasgwegian towards a chip shop and the time for decisions is bearing down on me.

There are three countries/regions on the shortlist and I’d sure appreciate some  help with selecting the lucky winner (First prize – a no-expenses-paid year with a miserable Scottish cunt with a penchant for having heated arguments with inanimate objects) by sifting through the pros and cons for each. Seriously, any comments/ideas/advice would be so welcome, whether you have been there before, know someone there or have only vaguely heard the place mentioned on a Fox News story about funny-coloured people.

South America

Pros – Huge area, low cost of living, so many different ecologies to choose from (mountain, jungle, coast, city, village, drug cartel HQ), beautifully vibrant culture, easy language to learn, home of Soulfly and Michelle ‘friend from Surat’ Heinz is also looking to go there so I have a travel buddy.

Cons – Low-paying work, work seems unreliable with short contracts, will more than likely have to wait until arriving in-country to secure a job, difficult to save a significant amount of money (more so than Thailand) so no pot of gold to see my through my first months at my next position.

Bahrain

Pros – Again I have a friend there, Ange, who has already supplied me with contact info, jobs pay very well so could save a LOT, supposedly the best human rights record in the middle east, close to home and Mediterranean Europe for holidays, excellent potential for creating a network of employment contacts.

Cons – It may be the best in the middle east but that’s like saying “Well, he’s the least cunty member of the Bush family’ – doesn’t mean all that much, it’s the desert so I’ve got no real attraction to the climate, possibly limited in entertainment for the likes of me.

Japan/Taiwan/Malaysia

Pros – High levels of pay, generally including airfare/accommodation, part of the world I’m familiar with and love, close to Thailand for holidays (hooray for Air Asia), great food and culture (especially Japan), friends/acquaintances scattered around the area, climates I’m used to and enjoy

Cons – Back to places I’d planned to go with Em so possibility of bad memories for a while, some employers can work you like a dog, erm, that’s it.

As I said, time is running out and I think I need to make my damn mind up soon and start focusing my application efforts in one area. So, what do you think? The rolling wilds of South America? The general bizarreness of Bahrain? Or the money and culture of Asia? Answers on a postcard or, preferably, in the little comments box down there…

Here’s some Soulfly while you’re thinking.

Miss or no miss

Okay, despite how it may sound from the title this post is not about Em and I, you can go ahead and breathe a sigh of relief. This morning I left Thailand after 14 and a half glorious months with a mixture of motions coursing through my body and wreaking havoc with my brain – the sadness at wrenching myself from my home with no return ticket, the emptiness that comes from being single again after such a long, glorious time, the apprehension at my now blank future and what it may hold, but at the same time anticipation at what lies around the corner.

And it’s because of this anticipation that I’m writing now. It was truly the first wholly positive emotion I’ve felt in a week, the first glimmer of hope that something within me is starting to see through the sadness. I’m going to grab onto it with every ounce of strength I have, use it to guide me through a few days alone in an alien city and nurture it in the hopes that its blooms will disguise and eventually displace my weaker, more negative feelings.

So, how is this sudden sunbeam of optimism going to manifest itself? The tantalising first few lines of a literary masterpiece to confound and dazzle generations to come? A masterfully crafted poem expressing my love, regret and newfound optimism in stanzas fit for Byron or Burns?

Well, not quite, it’s just a list of what I will and won’t miss about Thailand. Fuck you, it’s a start. Let’s tackle what I will miss first, and let’s limit it to five in each group.

1 – The Food – Well, the past year has been a culinary experience I never imagined. I thought I liked Thai food before, dining at Edinburgh’s many outlets whenever I had the chance, but the reality is that I had never so much as sniffed a Thai meal until Surat. The range of flavours present in the simplest dish is incredible and a mere dipping sauce can have you guessing ingredients for half an hour. The freshest, sweetest, juiciest fruit I’ve ever known, the range of spices from the slow-burner to the shotgun blast, the novelty of corn as a desert option and the incomparable cost all left an indelible mark on my memory.

2 – The Weather – Back home I used to pride myself on my resilience to the Scottish elements, happily (stubbornly) striding or cycling to work come biting rain, howling gales or suicide-inducing sleet while my fellow travellers cowered in their heated buses. No more. For the past fourteen months I’ve rarely had to endure temperatures below 30C, galloping to the opposite extreme and eschewing the aircon in my room for a simple fan to keep the mozzies at bay. The glorious sunshine highlights the wondrous colours in the city around me, from the fruit stands to the Buddhist garlands and paints the sky the most incredible, unforgettable blue. The downside is that I am a dead man, possibly literally, the second I set foot back on home turf.

3 – The Wildlife – Whether flora or fauna, I’ve been in a new universe for the past year. Once you leave the city limits and hit the countryside you are surrounded by the lushest, most verdant countryside you could hope to witness, peppered by flowers of every hue. The air around you is a constant chorus of the animal denizens, untold species of bird flashing to and forth above a jungle alive with monkeys, elephants and creatures of every size in between. Even in my own home I’ve grown so fond of the ever-present geckos I’ll have trouble adjusting to life without them, especially the little guy who, for two weeks, would crawl out and watch intently whenever I picked up my guitar.

4 – The Culture – And this includes the people in general. There’s a reason it’s called the Land Of Smiles, I have never felt so welcomed anywhere in the world. There’s a genuine friendliness in Surat, far removed from the mindset prevalent in the tourist traps which regards tourists as  little more than walking wallets. You are welcomed wholeheartedly into people’s lives, and once you’re in, it’s beautiful. People share everything, from their emotions to their motorbikes, and it’s all done for nothing more than a sense of friendship and a desire for mutual happiness. There’s a deep, loving respect for others that is so sorely missing back ‘home’.

5 – My Students – I told myself that this wouldn’t happen, that it’s just a first year of a teaching career and that I’m allowed to have fun with the kids but not get attached. Fuck. Really blew that one! It was an insidious happening, slowly, subtly creeping up on my until a point about four or five months when I suddenly though “How the hell am I supposed to leave these guys?”. The private, afterschool classes affected me more than the high school ones. From Punsip and her predilection (luckily shared and encouraged by me) for communicating through animal noises, through initially shy Ming who started off terrified of me thank to a misjudged joke about cutting off his fingers for forgetting homework yet soon blossomed into the most precocious, chatty and generally brilliant student in the world, I’m going to badly miss them all. Especially Maisow and her constant stream of gifts, from homemade cards and scrawlings to papercraft dolls and bizarre, scrunched-up paper heads, all liberally daubed with “I love Paul”. Those kids were my reason for getting up in the morning, especially in the last few months after Em had returned home. It’s going to be tough without them.

Okay, so that’s the things I’ll miss, but what pissed me off? What can I live without? Read on…

1 – The Food – I’ve come to reason that there are  certain foods which are more or less staples everywhere and just seem to have skipped Thailand out for some bizarre reason. These are – in no particular order – beef, bread, chocolate, wine, beer, coffee and potatoes. Look, I love Thai food and there’s no need to eat anything but if you’re in Surat. Just don’t offer ‘western food’ if it bears not even a passing resemblance to western food. And for the love of god, sort the coffee out!

2 – The Weather – Today? Hot ‘n’ sunny. Tomorrow? Hot ‘n’ sunny. The rest of your life? Hot ‘n’ sunny. Seriously, enough already. I miss seasons, they add a bit of variety and let you know what time of year it is, my internal calendar is so fucked up after this past year. And for the record Thailand? Slightly more rain than normal and slightly lower temperatures does NOT a season make. Get a grip.

3 – The Wildlife – Bugs, bugs, bugs. I can handle them served up on a platter at the night market (actually quite like them) but crawling all over my house? No. Coackroaches are harmless but, like southerners, they’re disgusting, annoying and get fucking everywhere. Mozzies – not so harmless, along with ants they managed to turn my limbs into veritable artworks, grotesque modern sculpture masterpieces, ever since I set itchy foot in the country. And the night chorus? Fuck me, I’ve had so many sleepless nights thanks to the combined efforts of dogs, crickets and frogs that it’s far beyond a joke. Fuck animal rights, they’re all cunts and need exterminated.

4 – The Culture – Okay, this section has been tongue in cheek so far, but there is a serious note. The casual racism is NOT acceptable. It’s bad enough being treated as an exhibit while visiting a zoo, Thais draping themselves off you for a photo, but we get the soft end of things. The treatment of darker-skinned people and certain foreigners, the Burmese in particular, is fucking disgusting and a disgrace to the country. And that’s just the start. There’s the undercurrent of violence due to the fact that conflict resolution is an alien concept. There’s the constant dangerous and drunk driving. Throw in the immensity of the corruption from local police up to the highest levels of governments and you remove a significant amount of the sheen from what initially seemed an immaculate exterior. Parts of the inside are, unfortunately, rotten.

5 – My Students – Nah, just kidding. I even miss the ones who annoyed the living shit out of me every single day. Prach, Tony – I’m looking at you…

So that’s yer lot. Okay, it’s far from a comprehensive list, more like some time-wasting to take my mind off things – quite successfully I might add – but maybe it’ll give some of my non-Surat friends an idea. I hope it does, writing that list just reminded me of something that I should never allow the events of the past week to make me forget – that taking this job and upping sticks for Surat was the single best decision of my life to date.

Chiang Mai pt. 2

We had planned to spend some time in this part of the country up in Pai, a mountain town which, depending on who you talk to, is either a wonderful, vibrant hub for jungle trekking, exploration and partying with other travelers or a placid rest-stop in the middle of nowhere, somewhere to sip coffees and catch up on reading for a few days. Both options sounded good to me but timing and Thailands’ tourism/transport industry intervened, forcing us to abandon Pai and focus our efforts on reaching Cambodia instead. With our already ramshackle plans readjusted we weighted up our options for the last couple of nights in Chiang Mai, opting for a day of rest and recuperation followed by a day at the zoo and visiting the mountain temple of Doi Suthep.

It transpires that Chiang Mai is a reasonably good destination for those fond of bumbling around with no real purpose whatsoever. We let ourselves bounce around the streets, buffeted from market stall to cafe by the currents of the streets like paper boats adrift on a stream. As we had been doing all holiday we indulged in a variety of cuisines – Chiang Mai is a purveyor of a mixed bag of foods, some blandness to be sure but there are mouthwatering treats aplenty to make up for it. The hot dogs at Mike’s, the genuine Indian food, the insanely large Philly cheesesteak and fries at the Chiang Mai Saloon, all conspired to slowly move my belt onto the next notch. And let’s not forget my former colleague Nick’s restaurant, The Swan, serving up incredibly tasty and complex variants on traditional Burmese dishes, the Nur Leng meatballs and accompanying mindblowing sauce now permanently seared into my taste memory.

Our plan for the zoo trip was fairly simple; catch a red truck (taxi) out there, wander around, then hop on the bus from the zoo entrance up to Doi Suthep to take in the famed views of the city. After that perhaps a swim at the hostel to unwind before the following day’s journey to Cambodia (see Long day…). The zoo part was easy enough, a mere fifteen minute ride and we were buying tickets – 100 baht for the zoo, 100 baht to see the pandas and another 20 to be allowed to hop on and off the tram (actually just a bus) that continually circled the compound. Unfortunately the famed new aquarium demanded a little over 500 baht if I remember rightly, a little too rich for our blood but in the end it made no difference.

Before I start I realise that some people have pretty strong views about zoos, and by ‘strong views’ I mean they hate them and believe them to be cruel and immoral ventures. Myself, I avoid making blanket statements about zoos. The fact is that their intentions are mainly pure – helping animals, studying them, in many cases preserving species which would have died long ago in the wild. I know enough about their financial situation from an old friend who worked at Edinburgh Zoo, there’s no profit motive here, at least not in the vast majority of cases, just a staff of animal lovers doing their best to carry out a difficult task in difficult circumstances. That’s not to say that there aren’t bad apples in the basket. Some zoos, particularly in less developed countries, exist merely as tourist attractions, modern day freakshows with no regard for the inhabitants. Some, like in Chiang Mai, focus on the animals which attract the customers which allow them to survive and seem to neglect others. It’s not a perfect world.

On the whole Chiang Mai zoo was nestled comfortably in the ‘Good Guy’ section of the animal care world. The residents appeared healthy, some of the tigers, giraffes and primates particularly so, and their enclosures – while still inevitably enclosed – were of a generous size and often mixed several species together. The giraffe, zebra and ostrich field provided an amusing and varied sight whereas the sight of a solitary turtle sharing it’s pool with an enormous crocodile was just plain baffling. Maybe one one of those odd inter-species adoption things you read about? Who knows…

The gibbons had it particularly good on Gibbon Island, a lagoon of three islands each containing a child’s paradise of treehouses, rope swings, ladders and everything else you could want. The inhabitants were mostly taking advantage of the generous shade provided when we made out midday visit but there was the odd live-wire sprinting and swinging around the gangways and slides like a possessed imp, it’s brain fried and malfunctioning from exposure to the glaring sun. I was idling around the islands, hypnotised by the antics and contemplating the eerie yet stunningly obvious similarities between ourselves and our primate cousins, separated by a mere few seconds in evolutionary time, when I noticed something bizarre yet uplifting. There were no barriers to this enclosure. Not the flimsiest fence, not even a Gibbons, please don’t run away or we’ll be really sad” sign to be seen. The islands, separated from the public walkways by moats scarcely a couple of metres wide, were festooned with trees and poles within what had to be easy jumping distance for these seasoned tarzans. And yet none made a move, not a single one attempted a bid for freedom, entirely content in their new homes. Maybe I’m being naive but it made me happy.

That said, there were downside. The sight of a lone elephant coralled in to a tiny stand by the roadside for visitors to coo over was upsetting to say the least. The sounds emanating from it when too many humans surrounded it were clearly not of the happy variety and all too often it tried to back away, only to find it  had no means of escape, nowhere to hide. Such a beautiful creatures made to perform parlour tricks for a crowd of onlookers wasn’t an enjoyable sight, I couldn’t  even take a single photo and had to move on as soon as possible. Similarly, the lone otter in his enclosure made me miserable. I love otters, their sleek, energetic forms and endless play always raise a smile but they are social animals, they don’t do so well alone, especially not in a grimy concrete pit full of rotting logs and cloudy water set back from the rest of the star attractions. In the few minutes we could bear to look it endlessly repeated a loop around it’s prison, scampering across the land, swimming through the miniscule pool,, then pausing for a second on a log before doing it all again. I’d seen this before in a polar bear at Edinburgh Zoo which was suffering extremely badly from being in captivity. No sign of anything going on in its head, just an endless OCD-like circuit around its lonely and woefully inadequate cell. This made me sad.

So we’ve done happy, done sad, now what? Erm… angry! So we paid an extra 100 baht to see the pandas, knowing that Chiang Mai zoo was home to some recently born cubs, including the famous Lin Ping who has her own TV channel over here. I was happy to shell out some extra cash for this, spurred on by the pictures of the cubs all over the zoo entrance. The red and yellow “To Lin Ping” sign inside the exhibit fuelled the excitement as we made our way through the eager crowd to see… two adult pandas. One sleeping, one munching on bamboo leaves. Cubs? No, they don’t live here any more, they’ve gone to a new home. Bastards, bastards, lying fucking bastards.

But hey, we got to see all manner of other beasts, some enormous crocs, gaudily-coloured birds, unbelievably gorgeous white tigers and a 5km walk up and down a hillside zoo in unbelievably hot sunshine. Climbing up a mountain to see yet another temple after this? No thanks. We dragged ourselves out to another red truck and set out for more food, swimming, reading and the general relaxation which I’m pretty sure holidays are supposed to be all about. A wise decision it seemed, as we were going to need all our energy to deal with the next leg of the journey.

Chiang Mai pt. 1

Early morning, following a hellish sleeper train ordeal, we pulled into Chiang Mai station. Generally speaking I’m a big fan of the Thai rail service; the trains are reasonably comfortable, it saves a night’s accommodation on holidays and you do all your travelling while unconscious. That’s assuming you can attain the necessary somnambulant state in the first place. Somehow my upper bunk wasn’t properly deployed, resulting in a jarring jump every time the carriage hit the slightest bump, my bed bucking as if it were beset by demons and convincing me every time, in my sleep-deprived stupor, that the train was parting company with the tracks.

With J&K in a similarly fatigued condition we tramped along the platform like zombies, vaguely aware of holding bookings at a guesthouse called ‘Lek’ but clueless as to its location. At the platform’s end stood an unassuming cubicle bearing the much-needed ‘tourist information’ signage so we trotted up on the lookout for maps, advice or any other navigational aids.

“Can I help you? You have somewhere to stay?”
“Yes, we need to find the Lek Guesthouse.”
“Oh, Lek is not so good, must share a bathroom, you want to stay at SK?”
“We have rooms booked at Lek.”
“SK is very good, look at this brochure, very clean rooms, how much you pay at Lek?”
“…”
“Same price at SK, we drive you there for free.”

So, not so much a tourist info booth as a sales point for the SK tour/hostel group then. None of us were in the mood for anything remotely resembling discussion, argument or even thought so we shrugged and decided to have a look at SK – even if it wasn’t up to scratch it was a free ride to the centre of town. Luckily we’d made a good decision – decent accommodation, good prices, a restaurant which served a breakfast consisting of more than just bread and bananas. The high point for me was the chill-out area by the pool, surrounded by an insane collection of Thai antiques so haphazard that it seemed to have been put together by a blind man. My only gripe is the wi-fi – who charges customers for wi-fi access these days? And why is it only bigger companies who do so, those with the massive profit margins, while their smaller competitors are perfectly able to give it away free and mysteriously remain in business? It baffles me, it truly does, and is further proof that capitalism only rises in negative proportion to common sense.

Anyway, checked in and down to first order of business – some sleep for my compadres and some lying on the bed and wishing I could sleep during the day for me. Soon refreshed we hit the streets to find our bearings in town.

As mentioned in the last post we were without guidebooks, plans or a clue and therefore refreshingly free to bumble and putz our way around time, slaves to neither agenda nor timetable. Chiang Mai is, compared to Surat and Bangkok, a rather beautiful city in places. The abundance of temples, the moat hemming in the city centre and providing a convenient and enormous landmark and the ample green spaces conspire to create an atmosphere which is laid back and peaceful despite the constant buzz inevitable in a city of its size. We took in some Thai food, treated our selves to hot dogs and beers (at Mikes – converting vegetarians since 1979) and wandered through some temples and markets, finding some worthwhile souvenir material for a change.

The evening found us drinking beers and continuing our Beanie tournament on a balcony overlooking one of the main thoroughfares in the university district. When hunger struck we found ourselves in an upmarket salad bar of all places and gorged ourselves on lettuce, freshly baked bread and – of course – grilled steak. Before we knew it the previous night’s train journey had caught up with us and we were in a red truck headed for the hostel and thence to neverland for a while.

Next morning we awoke with a plan in mind and after breakfast booked a tuk-tuk to take us around a few of the sights – the butterfly and orchid farm, the snake show, Tiger Kingdom and a local handicrafts centre. Only being charged 500 baht between three to have a taxi at your beck and call for a whole day was a pretty sweet deal, made even sweeter by the fact that we were ushered past the Orchid Farm’s entrance desk without having to pay the 40 baht entrance fee.

We made a beeline for the butterfly section first (sorry) and spent a good twenty minutes marvelling at the fleeting flecks of colour dancing around us. Our cameras strained to keep up with the movement, often foiled by an inability to focus in time resulting in a plethora of beautiful shots of flowers with no butterflies in sight. The orchid nursery was equally stunning, row upon row of vibrant blooms, bursting in kaleidoscopic colour wherever we rested out eyes. The variety was almost exhausting, orchids in all manner of shapes I had never seen before.

At the end of the tour we had a quick look at the gift shop section, expecting just the usual array of tourist tat designed to appeal to the most tasteless of travelers.  Instead we ended up making some rather cash-heavy purchases, having been entranced by the jewellery made out of actual orchids and dead butterflies encased in lacquer and edged with gold. The butterfly  wings were so thin they were transluscent and the coating only served to make their natural hues yet more prominent – far and away the most gorgeous tat yet discovered.

The snake show was next, twenty minutes or so  of watching a trio of maniacs prodding, kissing and otherwise goading a selection of venomous serpents a mere couple of metres from our ill-protected sandalled feet. These were no neutered pets -  they actually milked the king cobra’s venom glands into a plastic cup right in front of our eyes – a fact attested to by the blistered, scarred and unnaturally purple appearance of the handlers’ hands. They pulled a great gotcha out of the bag, terrifying some poor African kinds by throwing a length of rope into the crowd in the process of trying to lure the mythical ‘jumping snake’ out of it’s box, some priceless reactions were enticed. The highlight though – aside from the MC’s constant please of “Oh no Mr Snake Man, ni, it’s too dangerous” – were the photos of none other than Sly Stallone posing with the staff when they helped filming Rambo a few years back.

Following this we had to go and look at Tiger Kingdom, the chance to play with baby tigers being too much to resist. Unfortunately it’s an attraction built with the monied tourist in mind, 520 baht for 10 minutes with a young tiger being a little too much for our blood. A little dejected, we slunk (slinked? slank?) off for lunch  where my mood was lifted somewhat by a bag of sticky rice the size of my head. Seriously, I could have used it as a pillow and if they served portions like that in Surat I’d be the size of a truck by now. Khao Niaw is like Pringles for me, once you pop you can’t stop.

With the day wearing on we decided on one more distraction before getting back to a shower and some rest and instructed the driver to take us to the local handicrafts village. There are all manner of workshops in the area, carefully and lovingly turning out beautiful silks, jewellery, sculptures and everything else you could imagine, but we stopped of at the parasol shack. Behind the mess of proto-umbrellas sitting like abandoned white skeletons and awaiting completion in front of the building was a riot of colour to match that of the butterfly and orchid farm. Incredibly talented woman sat delicately painting the paper and silk sails, joking conversation and laughter contradicting the intense concentration on their faces. From simple black and white oriental designs to intricate, controlled explosions of every colour of the rainbow their creations lined the walls and covered the tables, turning the building itself into a work of art.

When we could handle no more we headed back to the hostel to finally unwind a little. There was more to do in Chiang Mai but that’ll have to wait for the next post cause my stomach’s a-rumbling and I can smell breakfast.

Long day

I am beat. Defeated. Vanquished. Scubbed. Hooped.

Yesterday afternoon we left Chiang Mai (posts on that to follow), taking the early sleeper train down to Bangkok to catch a bus to Cambodia. We were a little apprehensive as there was only a two hour window between train arrival and bus departure and Thai trains are far from punctual – taking the estimated journey time and adding 20% is usually a safe bet. However we were in luck, arriving a mere 30 minutes late on a 15 hour journey so our flagging spirits were somewhat buoyed when we trudged into the station at 6am.

Good start, can it keep up like this? Can it fuck.

Things took a nosedive when our guide collected us and a few fellow travellers to our vehicle – luxury coach we’d been promised, “big, big bus, very nice” – a standard fucking minivan of the type we usually catch to Khanom. Hmm, okay. At least they’re not cramming people in like sardines, we have a whole seat each.

Then we arrived at the ‘border’. Alarm bells should have started going off when they took us instead to a little food stand a few km shy of Cambodia. Em told me not to accept this. The internet told me not to accept this. But we had tickets from a professional tour organisation, what could go wrong? Fucking everything and a half.

It started with the charges. 1,000 baht for the visa we’d been told before but no, it’s now 1,300 with a 200 baht ‘photo surcharge’. Cunts. Okay, we paid it though, just wanted to get to our destination. We’d specifically asked where the bus would drop us off in our target town of Siem Reap and were told it would be downtown.

Oh no, say these jokers. Can’t go downtown any more, too many tourists now, have to go to the bus station out of town then take a long tuk-tuk ride. It’s been that way for months apparently. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

And there’s more. There have been lots of floods the past few days, the roads are covered with water so the bus is taking ages. 8 or 9 hours as opposed to the mere 2 or 3 a taxi would take. Well there was certainly a lot of flooding in the border town and none of us could even contemplate another 9 hours travelling at this point.

How much for a taxi then? Oh, well you’ve paid for the bus already so we’ll give you a special rate, 400 baht each, it’s normally 700. Fuck it, we’ll do it. Cue a conversation between another random traveller and a taxi driver 30 mins later revealing the standard price to be 400 baht and open to negotiation. They’ve already got our money. Cunts.

And you know what? One small flooded piece of road and the bus could easily have made it in 3 hours. TO take 9 it would have to average 32kph on clear open roads.

Lying. Fucking. Cunts.

But hey, we were on the road and now we know better for the way back. We swing into a taxi place in Siem Reap. Woah, wait – a taxi place? They said the taxi would take us right to our hostel! So I started telling the driver no, we’re not getting out here and not paying any more money, sick to death of all their bullshit. No sooner did I wind up the rant than a smiling fellow popped his head in to allay my fears – just get in a tuk-tuk and we’ll take you where you’re going, no charge, you’ve paid already.

Phew, finally a break. Smiley’s guesthouse please.

“Smiley’s? Which, there are two.”
“Erm, I don’t know, I only have the name.”
“Well there’s the cheap one or the other one which is a big hotel, very expensive and  far from town.”
“Ahh, okay, it’s the cheap one then.”

And off we rode. To some completely random guesthouse called Angkor West which had fuck all to do with Smiley’s. Obviously the staff had plenty derogatory to say about our real destination – it’s no good, it’s far away, it used to be nice but now it’s bad – but we stuck our ground. No more to be huckled I grabbed their computer, loaded up Smiley’s website and said “There. Now.” Disgruntled, the owner instructed our driver to take us where we were meant to be going in the first place.

Or so we fucking thought.

Not, we were headed for Smiling Hotel, a 4-star job on the outskirts of town. Thankfully the staff there were exceedingly friendly and helpful as I’d demanded that our driver wait while we get directions. Five minutes later we pulled up outside the real Smiley’s, saw the more-than-adequate rooms and I picked up the laptop to write this.

I’m annoyed. I thought I was better than that, too jaded and suspicious to be taken in by this kind of bullshit but no – hook, line and fucking sinker. To be fair they got us at aa weak ebb – tired, travel-weary after Surat -> Bangkok -> Ayutthaya -> Chiang Mai -> Bangkok and desperate for rest. Still, it rankles me that I’m now one of the stories I read about online before setting off on this trip. Although, as those stories will attest, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

Bit of advice before signing off. If you’re in Thailand avoid using SK Tours for anything. Their accommodation is fine and dandy but their tour services use all kinds of rip-off merchants. Also stay away from the Angkor West hostel in Siem Reap seeing as they resort to these dirty tricks to get customers.

Time for a stiff drink, ciao for now

Ayutthaya

We arrived in Ayutthaya at the crack of dawn, bedraggled, sleep-deprived yet still elated at the fortnight’s holiday spread out before us after a fortnight of hell at work. Joel, Kelsey and I, seasoned and worldly travellers that we are, decided to dispense with the cliche of guide books, research or any other kind of foreknowledge regarding the adventure we were embarking upon. When I dispensed with it of course I mean we forgot, being the space cadets we are. I have an excuse, my only Lonely Planet being of limited use outwith the borders of Vietnam – J&K are just dimwits.

Fortunately Lady Luck was looking out for us and no sooner had we begin to peruse the crowded, unintelligible and largely Thai map in Ayutthaya train station than a friendly Canadian clocked our predicament and chimed in with some tips. Two minutes later, armed with suggestions for accommodation, transport and tours, we set off into town, crossing the river on the adorable and almost pointless 4-baht ferry. With a destination now in mind – Baan Lotus, Lonely Planet’s top pick, although apparently booked out the previous night – we set out through our temporary home. With a remarkable tally of zero wrong turns we reached the guesthouse just as some previous occupants had checked out. Three beds for 800 baht can be a little steep but we were happy to have somewhere with air-con, hot water and free wi-fi for a while so we shrugged off our backpacks and sat down to breakfast on the fish pond out back.

Breakfast? Well, to be fair that’s stretching it a bit. When someone says ‘continental breakfast’ my mind conjures images of fresh-baked croissant and pain au chocolat, fruit salads, steaming freshly-ground coffee and a cooling glass of fruit juice. Maybe, just maybe, a pot of yoghurt if I’m lucky. Two slices of toast and a banana does not a continental breakfast make. Especially when coffee costs extra…

However I’m willing to let a place off the hook when the owner is as ridiculously happy and friendly as here. Within minutes of deciding on an evening tour of the temples we had our tickets, a map, a potted history of Ayutthaya (the king of Myanmar came, burned all the Buddhas, now Myanmar is up shit creek, just ask Rambo) and – superspecial bonus – permission, nay encouragement, to pet and play with the five pups outside, each a tad over a month old. That sealed the deal for me, the place could be infested with rats, plague and zombies and I’d still give it a good review.

After some relaxation and unwinding, letting our bodies catch up after the train journey, we boarded our tuk-tuk for the tour. Over the next three hours we were whisked around five of Ayutthayas countless sights as darkness slowly descended. We were in full sunlight for the first temple, able to peruse the ruins and reclining Buddha and appreciate the views from the top of the chedi (may be the wrong word). Soon after we arrived at the elephant kraal, more or less a home for injured, ill-tempered and even murderous elephants who are rehabilitated, retrained and obviously adored by their mahouts – none of the savage hook-marks you see on the hides of the poor creatures on the streets of Surat. Until then I had no idea just how quiet such a massive, lumbering creature could be; you feel a brush on your back mid-conversation and turn to find yourself face-to-belly with an enormous bull, strolling  by nonchalantly as if you weren’t there.

Back in the cab and off to another temple, this time with the sun beginning to kiss the horizon. This brought with it hordes of bats and insects but only added to the majesty of the monument. Staring up at it from the ground with a sliver of a crescent moon alongside its peak was beautiful and humbling in equal measure. Buddhists don’t build their  temples with the vertiginous in mind though, I’ll certify to that – the journey upwards, relatively mild, was like a descent into Hades on the way down.

Our final two stops were after sundown, a whistle-stop  tour of similar remains bathed in eerie floodlights. That the sight was gorgeous was beyond doubt but unfortunately the time, the glare of the lights and the crowds of tourists made it a mosquito’s paradise, detracting somewhat from our enjoyment. Still, I was able to brave the mozzie-pocalypse long enough to appreciate the similarity between one of the ruins and the stereotypical haunted graveyard of many a ghost/zombie movie.

(Wow – on a train while writing, the sun has gone down and I just looked down from my bunk and out of the window opposite to see the moon reflected in a river as we sped by…)

The tour over, we were dropped at the local night market to sample some Thai fare, apparently not to be missed. I’m a huge aficionado of the night market in Surat, gorging myself on the vendors’ many and varied delicacies every other night. Unfortunately not every such market is blessed with so many culinary masterminds. After perusing the lacklustre stands we decided to fall back on the old favourite of fried chicken and sticky rice, can’t go wrong there. Erm, wrong. I selected  my cuts of choice only to witness them thrown back in the vat of oil for reheating, not only that but liberally sliced beforehand to ensure a good saturation of fats. It was almost inedible, more like chicken-flavoured grease than anything else. Never mind though, you win some, lose some.

Next morning I rose at the crack of dawn to talk to Em, having missed her for the past few days due to travel. My morning thus brightened I awaited the rise of my fellow journeymen and we made our way to breakfast by bicycle before embarking on our own pedal-powered, daylit tour of the ruins. Again we decided to forego the usual cliched traveller routine of applying sunscreen – sooo 1983 – and  instead decided to let the tyrannous Thai sun do its worst against our pallid complexions. Long story short, the sun won. On the bright side we did see some more amazing sites and discovered a quite fantastic burger joint (Stiky’s) which served our meals on serviettes in plastic laundry baskets. Insane? Perhaps, but I bet it saves on dishwashing time.

Our tour complete, we returned to Baan Lotus for our bags, said our goodbyes and transplanted ourselves into a local bar for a few rounds of beanie, some liquid refreshment and an unexpected shower while awaiting the train for the next stop – Chiang Mai. This holiday has been a long time coming and, while I must admit it’s not nearly as much fun as it would be if Em were here, my mind is finally and firmly set back in adventure mode. More to come…

My god, it’s full of stars…

(Apologies in advance. I’ve just finished writing this post and realised I sound like a hippy. Don’t worry, I can assure you I do wash, I don’t smoke pot and I don’t listen to Phish.)

I sit typing this on tail-end of the sleeper up to Chiang-Mai, having spent the past couple of days exploring the ruins of Ayutthya and contentedly contemplating the onset of fourteen days of well-deserved r ‘n’ r. Staring out the window at the indescribably beautiful Thai countryside flashing by I was suddenly hit by a feeling I savour and experience all too rarely, inspiring me to unpack the netbook – my traveling best buddy – and try to capture the essence of what had hit me.

Staring at the horizon I was entranced by the endless expanse of green and the sudden appearance of what the Thais would probably call a mountain range but which is barely a Munro back home. Not to belittle the geographical features of the locale though – while we tend to harvest our hillsides bare the Thais leave them to their own devices, festooned with lush, verdant forests and eyecatching limestone outcroppings. Enhancing the natural beauty, in the gloriously kitsch manner of which the Thais are avowed masters, are the occasional glistening golden Buddha looking down benevolently upon the nearest township, or even a twenty-foot tall statue of one of his followers, bedecked in traditional yellow-orange robes and perched at a seemingly impossible, inaccessible location testifying to the devotion of those who created it.

Contemplation of these sights, combined with the hypnotic sway and white-noise rumble of my carriage set my mind to ruminations about the scale and majesty of the world around us. The track stretching out behind us seemed endless, and indeed to our ill-equipped senses it was, disappearing into the horizon. But that horizon still seemed so far, the minute disc of earth surrounding me so full of life, variety, serenity, danger and beauty. How many horizons would I have to cover to reach back home? How many of these islands of existence were between me and those I hold so dear and familiar? I’m a mere quarter of the way around the world but the expanse suddenly presenting itself to my imagination seemed near infinite.

Then came the tidal wave as I turned my eyes and mind to the skies above. On a normal day I don’t give it a second though, the sky is the harbinger of heat or bringer of floods, nothing more. On these rare occasions though, when my thoughts are floating just loosely enough, yet still sufficiently stable to comprehend, I see beyond the apparent canopy above us and break through the dome of the heavens. The distance to the clouds crumbles and becomes as nothing. I’m suddenly staring into space and seeing the universe as it  is, not as some abstraction from the pages of a book nor as the simplistic spattering of white dots on a black canvas. For a split second I’m aware of the vastness, the enormity of the universe in which we find ourselves quite literally adrift.

The 150,000,000 km to the sun? It’s nothing, a drop in the ocean. We’re only the third planet out in this rather unremarkable system. The light years spanning the gulf between our home and our nearest solar neighbour? Here’s something I don’t think enough people recognise – a light year is how far light travels in a year. It takes eight minutes to reach us from the sun. The universe is billions of years old. Billions. Think about those figures and let it sink in – 150,000,000km in 8 minutes, and light has been traveling through the universe for billions of years.

It’s at these moments, during such rare and always-welcome epiphanies, when I understand how religious people might feel when they think they have been touched by whatever deity they worship. It’s a moment when I surrender myself to complete and utter awe of the world around me, to its vastness, complexity and its endless forms most beautiful (thanks Charlie D.) It inspires a sincere feeling of humility, joy and total, all-encompassing love of the world around me.

I wasn’t sure how to end this post but the answer was right in front of me, literally so. In the seat opposite me is a young-ish Thai mother with her infant daughter curled up and sleeping with her head on her lap. If I can have one wish for the world it’s that more people, like that child to give but one example, can experience these same feelings. I can’t help but imagine how the world would differ if more people would just open their eyes and look around them once in a while…

365 Pictures – 3rd October 2010

Holy crap, only going to have five more weeks of Thailand photos after this one (plus one week’s worth of Cambodia and one of Malaysia) and then it’s back to the old country. I’m sure there will be plenty of photo opportunities back home but most of them will be fat, bearded drunks lying in the gutter or skin-headed, tattooed youths in designer clothes beating the crap out of each other, then lying in the gutter. Or the whorish maidens they’re no doubt fighting over. Yeah, they’ll be lying in the gutter too, covered in their own vomit and unfeasible amounts of make-up.

Do I have to go back? Do I really have to???

No. 72, 26/09/10 - Continuing my series of abandoned childhood companions. This was found by the riverside near Tigger's place. Probable cause of death - drowning.

No. 73, 27/09/10 - One of the two laziest cats in Surat, both of whom seem to spend all day sleeping on copies of Guns & Ammo at the night market.

No. 74, 28/09/10 - Vic's team placed second at the pub quiz (we won obviously) and received all of Moss's loose change as a bonus prize. Never did find out how much there was...

No. 75, 29/09/10 - Staff meal at a Korean barbecue just around the corner from the middle of nowhere. Best of its kind I've been to though, I embarked on an epic kidney-fest. And those green garlic noodles, dear god.

No. 76, 30/09/10 - Covering Kayla's classes at Joy School again. So many cute photos of kids but I went with the cup rack instead. Shut up, it's my photo series.

No. 77, 01/10/10 - No, it's not a mad scientist's lab, it's jars of mysterious, syrupy goodness at the night market. It's amazing that the entire country doesn't have diabetes.

No. 78, 02/10/10 - My own little dawn chorus lines up on my balcony. Every Saturday and Sunday I lie in bed reading to the sound of these guys. Fun times.

Project 6000 – The Verdict

Okay, so a month ago I decided I would set myself a challenge, attempting to live for an entire month on a total of 6,000 baht (or £200 £125 to my countrymen). This was to include all food, drinks, fuel, bills and other entertainments, the only exception being rent which is included in my contract.

So how did I do? Well the month is now over and my final outlay came in at – drum roll – 5,925 baht! I made it! In fact I technically came in well under budget depending on how you look at things…

You see I was extremely strict with my tally, including every unseen expense which cropped up – oil change on the bike, fixing a headlight and the added expenses of keeping in touch with a girlfriend who’s bathed in sunlight while I’m staring at the moon (admittedly not much but texts and internet access add up over time).  But this stictness with additional outgoings means I’m also permitted to include incomings on my budget so toss in an extra 1,000 baht’s worth of winnings at the three pub quizzes which took place over the period of the experiment. That’s 1,000 baht I intend to spend on enjoying myself this weekend, bottle of half-decent wine here I come

So that’s how it worked out on paper, but what was it like actually living on that kind of a budget? Could it be done long term? Would I do it again? Well the only honest answer is that I don’t know. There were so many factors to add up – I’m saving for leaving Thailand, I’m trying to cut down on drink (major expense over here), there was a ton of work to be done so I was permanently exhausted and, on top of everything else, I missed Em immensely and didn’t always feel sociable. So maybe at another time it wouldn’t have worked and I wouldn’t have enjoyed it.

But the fact remains that the cost of living here is so low and entertainment is so easy to come by that there’s no need to be earning  a fortune to enjoy life in Surat Thani. With the right attitude, some good friends and a little imagination you can live like a king on a shoestring budget.

It’s going to be a hell of a shock re-adjusting to Western prices and the difference in value between items – over here you can buy a good meal for half the cost of a bottle of beer, back home you can get (if I remember rightly) at least a couple of pints for the price of your lunch. It’s easy to avoid naughty snacks in a country where a small bag of Maltesers can cost more than your dinner. And to balance that up, let’s not forget the insanely low price of ‘blended spirits’ and the fact that you can bring a bottle to pretty much any bar.

I’m going to miss Thailand. But I’m going to enjoy my brief trip back to my old world just as much

(Thanks to Tigger for the currency correction, my impending trips to the UK, Canada and America have my head all in a tangle…)