Banging on about Bangkok

Intrepid Exploration

The first half of our holiday itinerary read; from Bangkok to Chiang Mai to Laos back to Chiang Mai and then again to Bangkok. For the sake of concision and a streamlined narrative (jajaja) I'm going to boil my thoughts on the illustrious land of Thai... land and present half of them in this post before deeply analysing the passing thoughts and fleeting fancies that I experienced in Chiang Mai.

Bangkok is one of those cities you've heard of due to its undeniably funny name (remove the g and add a space and it becomes Bank OK, tee hee.) Host city to The Wolfpack in Shakespearian mega-hit The Hangover 2 and the location of numerous colourful characters like those Lady-boys its reputation precedes it and, in some ways it lives up to it.

I'm not a traveller who engages much with his surroundings on a book-learned level. I don't feel much need to visit prominent sites or holy temples. I don't even learn the names of streets, I more follow other people or build up a mental map in my head based on my wanderings.* It is lucky, therefore that the tourist zone in this town is one long and bustling street. We managed to book both of our hostels just off of this street, it contained an Indian restaurant that made one of our number sick and the bar where, weeks later we would have an explosive argument and stop talking for days. Burger Kings and Seven Elevens jostle for attention next to charming independent Thai restaurants (owned by French ex-pats) and stunning Hindu temples. At one end of this street is the illustrious public park which played host to an international fair of stunning breadth and ambition, on the other end is the Bangkok Seashell Museum. Who, indeed, could ask for anything more?

We stayed in a different hostel each time we visited Bangkok. The first is called The Puck Hostel and it entirely lives up to every cliche you could hope for from a Hostel. Blond Europeans lounge around on beanbags in the foyer, chattering in English about how cultured they are, how travelled they are and how attractive they are. Everyone you see is wearing beige shorts and looks as though they haven't washed their hair properly in several months. The rooms offer massive bunk beds with the blessed luxury of hangings that afford you at least a modicum of privacy as you are sharing your room with six strangers each of whom will take eye-contact to mean "I am very interested in your travels, your culture and your slammin' bod." There was a couple staying in our room even though they weren't supposed to be together. If they weren't a couple then I am forced to conclude that the man had accidentally dipped his hand in superglue before offering to help dust chalk off of the woman's right buttock.

The other hostel we found ourselves in was The Smile Society. We were asked not to take any pictures inside this hostel as a couple years earlier the taking of photographs inside a Bangkok hostel had been instrumental in a terrorist bombing plot. With this comforting notion in mind we trekked up four flights of stairs to find our room. FUKKINELL, Callum observed when we opened the door. It was tiny, much like a broom-cupboard with two bunk beds squeezed into it. As Callum pointed out in three loaded syllables there was not very much space which would hider our ease of movement. This wasn't a problem, in my opinion as my bed turned out to be among the most comfortable of the beds that I slept in during that holiday. The toilets in the Smile Society were, I might add exquisite. Due to an unfortunate lapse in brainpower I had the singular opportunity to experience a shower in both a male-designated and a female-designated shower cubical. I'd say the the women's showers were a little nicer. The only thing about the Soc that I found peculiar were the breakfasts - a boiled egg, a blueberry muffin, a piece of toast with butter and a hot-dog sausage. I'll allow you to ponder that for a moment.

It was in the blazing heat of an equatorial Winter that Callum and I went for our first explore. We made it to the end of our side-alley and immediately recognised the need to reacquaint ourselves with some air conditioning. We entered a Seven Eleven and received a blast in the faces from the past (although that may have been the aforementioned, conditioned air.) If there is a contender for "happiest time in my life" then the medal has to go to the Japan holiday in 2015. The streets were clean, the company was good, the country was welcoming and there was convenient food available in Seven Elevens on every street corner. The smell sparked a synesthetic flash-back to those days a year and a half earlier and I was washed through with a sense of calmness. This was all very familiar, after four months in Duyun we suddenly had access to such luxuries - working refrigerators, shop workers with a basic knowledge of English and bread!

Bangkok is a city with lots of character, I'm just not sure its the good guy for in spite of these comforts the city still suffered from an inescapable big city-ness. Even in streets as wide as ours there were so many cars, motorbikes, pedestrians and, worst of all, tourists that getting from point A to point B invariably involved a short visit to point XYZ. The Winter heat also came as quite a shock and so our first day as a unit involved walking up the street to visit a temple before walking down the street to sit on a dirty bench. We stopped for a good half hour and chatted in the shade. It was unanimously decided that crossing the road seemed like too much trouble. I also found, as a young man that walking alone, off the beaten path, was an uncomfortable nigh-distressing experience. I couldn't take more than five paces without a woman-menu being thrust at me or some sordid invitation being proffered. All I wanted was to enjoy my audio-book and sip on a Pepsi Max. I could have done without such unsavoury aspersions being cast upon my character. Bank OK indeed...

I would find more to my liking at our other stop in Thailand, Chiang Mai. As they say in Mamma Mia "Dot. Dot. Dot. *giggles."

*These wanderings closely resemble the actions of a blind-folded darts player. Sometimes I hit the bulls-eye but the rest of the time I'm just lucky if the whole affair doesn't end in bloodshed.**

**That was a joke, Mum. Please don't worry.

The Travelling

One of the great advantages of these gap-year-type-things (besides maintaining a strict blogging schedule L. M. F. A. O.) is taking advantage of the chance to see the world. Seeing the world, or at least seeing parts of the world where you don't normally live at.

Callum and I had a plan to holiday. We had a plan, and on that plan, in the space next to the months of January and February were written in biro - HOLIDAY. This was all. If we had been left to our own devices we probably would have ridden the tidal wave of the last few weeks of term and then indulged ourselves in several weeks of hibernation. Come mid-February I'm sure one of us would have woken up at four o'clock in the afternoon, looked the other in the eye and said "So now what?".

It was very fortunate for us therefore that our coworker, who is not called Amy, is a grown up and has numerous friends and family members who have wandered the South-East Asia trail. Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam and Thailand are far-off, mysterious lands with laxer drug-laws and currencies on the weaker end of the scale. As-such this part of the world contains more Westerners than a small United State (exaggeration?). Our holiday would take us by boat, bus, plane, train and minivan across some of the most majestic landscapes and bumpiest roads in this fascinating and tragic part of the world.

Callum and I stayed in Duyun for a week longer than Aimee. She had plans to meet an old friend in Thailand and we had plans to watch movies and drink coffee. I certainly needed a break after the end of term which brought more stresses and celebrations than I could have imagined. The Chinese Winter was in full-effect with rain-clouds and mist casting a sombre mood over the dusty streets of Duyun. I took the opportunity to revisit some blockbusters of my youth (Back to the Future, and the adventures of Dr. Jones in particular.) I also experienced some new ones, Gladiator was an interesting experience as I loathed every minute of it but have since found its story and characters revisiting me from time-to-time in my day-to-day life. The Terminal was an interesting experienced because I thoroughly enjoyed it but it has dissolved from my mind like a marshmallow in tepid hot-chocolate. I was warm in my bedroom with my radiator and ventured out only once a day to get some food or plan my journey to the train station (there are two) (both have names in Chinese) (I don't speak it). It was a pleasant, sort of twilight existence cut short when I realised our flight was a day earlier than I thought.

It was in a haze of improvisation and panic that we started our journey. We got a taxi from our flat to the fast-train station or "Duyun East" which I had smartly written into a translator on my phone as opposed to expanding my knowledge and learning some new words and phrases. We arrived at the station 4 hours before our train to Guiyang left as I had only been able to find information about the slow trains to Guiyang online. #Chinaproblems.

The train station of Duyun East is a chilly, tiled, warehouse sized room with a freezing, tiled, warehouse sized room one story above it. It is like a dentist's waiting room if a dentist's waiting room were actually purgatory. The station is similar to most waiting rooms in the world, barren and containing columns chairs just waiting to make your bottom as numb as your immortal soul. This station had two convenience stores containing cured tofu snacks and beef with rice and a sauce that gives new meaning to the word "indigestion" not to mention the word "pungency". It also had a gang of rebellious men smoking next to the No Smoking sign in the toilets. In Summer time there would have been a beautiful view of the Guizhou mountains but instead there was a view of thick, smoggy mist as far as the eye could see. I was listening to the audio-book of Stephen King's It on my iPod but Stephen King's The Shining would have resonated more thematically.

We took the fast train for 40 minutes to reach the airport Longdongbao. It wasn't my first time on one of these vehicles as a year and a half ago Callum and I had travelled down and up Japan with our other half, Andrew and Aaron. Of course that train had given us the chance to see stunning views of rice fields and mega-cities. On this train Callum sat in an old lady's seat but didn't realise it. I felt too sheepish to ask him to get up so I offered her my seat. She didn't want my seat because she actually wanted her seat. I remained seated because whilst I would give up my seat for an old lady I wouldn't give up my seat for Callum. So this train-ride was memorable in its own way. I lay awake at night sometimes wrestling with the guilt.

We had two flights from Guiyang to Thailand. The wait in the middle was thrice as long as the flight-time combined but it was nice to be in an airport again. All of your favourite airport friends were there and it was very odd to see them in China; Toblerone bars; Australian backpackers; that pang of melancholy; Tom Hanks with a long beard and a vaguely un-place-able accent. (That was a The Terminal joke for you. I get that reference now. I hope you enjoyed it. I had to wrack my memory banks.)

It was with a lethargic lurch, indicative of my patchy, two-month-old memories, that we found ourselves in Thailand. It was one o'clock in the morning and I realised that I had no idea how to navigate the immigration system of Thailand. Callum and I walked up and down a long, crowded corridor until we found some forms to fill in. There were three pens for a hundred people and a space on the form for passport photos, which we didn't have. Fortunately, before we spent a small fortune in the photo-booth a nice woman with no English was able to convey to me through gesticulation and weary shouts that this was not the form for me. It was with a little regret that I cast aside two forms, one spoiled and one completed with perfect handwriting and started my long wait in the international immigrants queue.

Before entering Thailand we noticed two interesting forms of local greeting. The first was a suggestion that we wear black tops and black ribbons out of respect for the recently deceased King. He was a pretty swell guy, by all accounts so it was with pride that I showed off my black t-shirt, hoping with futility that people might not notice the massive, tactless skull and crossbones daubed upon it. The other greeting was a request that tourists not purchase cheap, tatty Buddah statues or decide to tattoo the same onto their skin because, hey, deity over here.

I liked Thailand already. It seemed like a distinguished country, both welcoming and strong enough to establish clear boundaries within our burgeoning relationship. What's more, as we stepped out into the midnight air it was warm enough to wear a t-shirt and shorts. We were a long way from China, in more ways than one.

TBC, Tune in next time.