As we reflected on our time in the north, we realised we had totally fallen in love with Thailand - welcoming people, lush countryside and delicious food. A twelve hour train ride later and we were back in Bangkok at our cozy guesthouse that was starting to feel like a real home from home. The next day we hit some of Bangkok's key sights: a long and meandering boat trip down the Chao Phraya river (the romanticism slightly shattered as bags of trash rain past you, thrown off by people at almost every bridge you pass under - food, plastic, waste and other garbage...I guess the Waterways Environmental Unit may not yet be established - or perhaps they were on a very long lunch break...); wandering in awe through the ornate, over-elaborate Grand Palace, ancient structures weighed down by glistening gold - an amazing sight but that same sense of uneasiness you get at almost all Buddhist temples in South East Asia - a destitute population struggling to survive, juxtaposed by the vast quantities of gold that are poured into sights of religious worship - even after our time in China, we had quickly come to the conclusion that Buddha was a capitalist - a master businessman - every prayer, every trinket, every offering - all cost money. Bartering was the order of the day at the market stalls along the vibrant travellers district of Kao San Road (imagine the stalls at Glastonbury plonked in the middle of a random part of a sprawling Asian city and you'll get the picture) - you can get anything there - clothes, household goods, furniture, food, drugs and fake I.D (my favourite sign was 'Birth Certificate only 5000Baht!' - bargain!). All this interspersed by some great food as always - curries of every colour (red, green, yellow) and some delicious stir fries.
Still, our time in Bangkok was shortlived as we headed off on an early morning bus for the six hour road journey to Trat on the east coast - the jumping off point for the ferries to the island of Ko Chang. All manner of people were crammed into the rickety bus - farangs, holidaying Thais, some Asian tourists, mates of the driver that he picked up along the way and the most unconvincing lady boy I think I'm ever likely to see - imagine Martin Johnson in drag complete with appallingly-applied make up. Still, before we knew it we pulled up at a food stop two hours into the journey, S stayed on the bus while I hopped off for my latest chocolate fix. After perusing the sweet treats on offer, I ambled back to the parked bus only to find to my great surprise that the bay was empty, 'mmm' I thought - 'not quite six months into our trip and I've already 'misplaced' my wife'. Perhaps they've gone to get some food somewhere else, or some petrol or they're picking someone else up, perhaps they're being robbed or maybe S has asked the driver just to drive onto the coast without me - after all 24/7 with me for 6 months is bound to take it's toll on even the most devoted wife. Eventually - 30 minutes later - the bus pulled up again and to my relief there sat my grinning wife, relaxed as ever wondering what the worry was - they had just gone to get some petrol at a cheaper stop down the road! 'Perhaps we should leave the bus together next time?' I suggested. S just sat there, still grinning.
Three hours later and the stifling bus abruptly drew to a halt. 'Bus station!' the driver shouted and a frantic Thai lady ran up the stairs into the bus shouting 'ferry ticket! ferry ticket!'. Like moths drawn to light, we gingerly emerged out into the open, only moments before getting that increasingly familiar feeling when you're just about to be scammed. The bus zoomed off and we were stuck in the middle of nowhere in a town we knew nothing about. Skimming a portion of costs each, the local lady re-selling the ferry ticket, the bus driver and the eagerly awaiting songtheaw driver all took a cut as each farang paid marginally over the odds to get to our final destination. Occupational hazard I'm afraid. Things didn't get any better when it soon became apparent that we were sharing the ride with some lunatics from Barcelona utterly high on whatever concoction of drugs they had managed to score and a positively maniacal septarian driver with eyes like marbles - well, at least that's how he drove.
Ten hours after setting off, we eventually arrived at our wooden bungalow - six pounds a night and an awesome location. As we released our coffin-like rucksacks to the ground, we started chatting to a perma-traveller (one of those guys who took a gap year before going to uni and never quite found the right moment in the last decade to return home). He was from Nottingham and continually raved about how great the accommodation and staff were. Five minutes later the owner returned - an arrogant English guy in his early forties, tight curly hair and a long rubbery face. 'No, there's no booking, I sent you an email four days ago. I don't want people staying in my place for just one night the day before New Years Eve'. His tone was sharp and defensive. He had obviously messed up. We had received no e-mail and it was 6 pm on a very full island on 30th December. This was not good. I thought S was going to rip his head off or crush his elongated smug-face. But, we tried to adopt a more positive attitude and asked to use his phone to ring around or whether he could offer any recommendations. 'No! I'm too busy. Don't bother ringing, just start walking. I've got some very important posters to print!'. Go on S, kick his arse! But no, we just turned around and walked away. Fortunately the perma-traveller offered us a lift and within an hour we were in a cozy bamboo hut for 3 pounds owned by a lovely Thai family who didn't speak a word of English. How utterly, disappointingly embarrassing then that the one idiot we met in Thailand was English. Bloody English. Anyway, two hours later, we had a large, cold bottle of Singha in each hand and were enjoying a rich and spicy green curry. The next morning we were up bright and early and on a wooden boat for two more hours to a very remote island Ko Mak - home to only a few hundred people. We had a lovely four days chilling by the beach, sipping cold beer, swimming in the sea and planning the next leg of our travels. As we laid in our hammocks on the stroke of midnight on New Years Eve, with a glass of wine in our hands, we realised that things were going pretty well.
On our return to Bangkok, we met a lovely couple from London and had a fun night out with them in the capital (marred only slightly by the rat the size of my foot that was running around between the tables of the road-side food stall) before heading off to Phuket for some more beach fun. After splashing out in a posh resort for two nights we returned to the traveller circuit in Ao Karon and hit the clear blue waters for the next three days. We canoed around remote islands, lunching on a wooden boat and swimming with the Thai crew in between our paddling (it was great fun hurling ourselves off the top of a huge wooden boat!), we explored isolated sea caves (hongs) in the late afternoon, followed by a sunset dinner and a night time exploration into the lagunas, lying flat in the canoe the current drew us into the caves and we lit candles on ceremonial offerings made from banana leaves and bright flowers which we floated away after making a heartfelt wish. We really hope it comes true. On the last day we travelled three hours by car and speed boat to get to the remote Ko Similans and experienced some amazing snorkelling - startlingly clear, a myriad of vividly coloured fish, and gleaming coral - a beautiful, calm, life-affirming ocean spectacle.
Still, our time in Bangkok was shortlived as we headed off on an early morning bus for the six hour road journey to Trat on the east coast - the jumping off point for the ferries to the island of Ko Chang. All manner of people were crammed into the rickety bus - farangs, holidaying Thais, some Asian tourists, mates of the driver that he picked up along the way and the most unconvincing lady boy I think I'm ever likely to see - imagine Martin Johnson in drag complete with appallingly-applied make up. Still, before we knew it we pulled up at a food stop two hours into the journey, S stayed on the bus while I hopped off for my latest chocolate fix. After perusing the sweet treats on offer, I ambled back to the parked bus only to find to my great surprise that the bay was empty, 'mmm' I thought - 'not quite six months into our trip and I've already 'misplaced' my wife'. Perhaps they've gone to get some food somewhere else, or some petrol or they're picking someone else up, perhaps they're being robbed or maybe S has asked the driver just to drive onto the coast without me - after all 24/7 with me for 6 months is bound to take it's toll on even the most devoted wife. Eventually - 30 minutes later - the bus pulled up again and to my relief there sat my grinning wife, relaxed as ever wondering what the worry was - they had just gone to get some petrol at a cheaper stop down the road! 'Perhaps we should leave the bus together next time?' I suggested. S just sat there, still grinning.
Three hours later and the stifling bus abruptly drew to a halt. 'Bus station!' the driver shouted and a frantic Thai lady ran up the stairs into the bus shouting 'ferry ticket! ferry ticket!'. Like moths drawn to light, we gingerly emerged out into the open, only moments before getting that increasingly familiar feeling when you're just about to be scammed. The bus zoomed off and we were stuck in the middle of nowhere in a town we knew nothing about. Skimming a portion of costs each, the local lady re-selling the ferry ticket, the bus driver and the eagerly awaiting songtheaw driver all took a cut as each farang paid marginally over the odds to get to our final destination. Occupational hazard I'm afraid. Things didn't get any better when it soon became apparent that we were sharing the ride with some lunatics from Barcelona utterly high on whatever concoction of drugs they had managed to score and a positively maniacal septarian driver with eyes like marbles - well, at least that's how he drove.
Ten hours after setting off, we eventually arrived at our wooden bungalow - six pounds a night and an awesome location. As we released our coffin-like rucksacks to the ground, we started chatting to a perma-traveller (one of those guys who took a gap year before going to uni and never quite found the right moment in the last decade to return home). He was from Nottingham and continually raved about how great the accommodation and staff were. Five minutes later the owner returned - an arrogant English guy in his early forties, tight curly hair and a long rubbery face. 'No, there's no booking, I sent you an email four days ago. I don't want people staying in my place for just one night the day before New Years Eve'. His tone was sharp and defensive. He had obviously messed up. We had received no e-mail and it was 6 pm on a very full island on 30th December. This was not good. I thought S was going to rip his head off or crush his elongated smug-face. But, we tried to adopt a more positive attitude and asked to use his phone to ring around or whether he could offer any recommendations. 'No! I'm too busy. Don't bother ringing, just start walking. I've got some very important posters to print!'. Go on S, kick his arse! But no, we just turned around and walked away. Fortunately the perma-traveller offered us a lift and within an hour we were in a cozy bamboo hut for 3 pounds owned by a lovely Thai family who didn't speak a word of English. How utterly, disappointingly embarrassing then that the one idiot we met in Thailand was English. Bloody English. Anyway, two hours later, we had a large, cold bottle of Singha in each hand and were enjoying a rich and spicy green curry. The next morning we were up bright and early and on a wooden boat for two more hours to a very remote island Ko Mak - home to only a few hundred people. We had a lovely four days chilling by the beach, sipping cold beer, swimming in the sea and planning the next leg of our travels. As we laid in our hammocks on the stroke of midnight on New Years Eve, with a glass of wine in our hands, we realised that things were going pretty well.
On our return to Bangkok, we met a lovely couple from London and had a fun night out with them in the capital (marred only slightly by the rat the size of my foot that was running around between the tables of the road-side food stall) before heading off to Phuket for some more beach fun. After splashing out in a posh resort for two nights we returned to the traveller circuit in Ao Karon and hit the clear blue waters for the next three days. We canoed around remote islands, lunching on a wooden boat and swimming with the Thai crew in between our paddling (it was great fun hurling ourselves off the top of a huge wooden boat!), we explored isolated sea caves (hongs) in the late afternoon, followed by a sunset dinner and a night time exploration into the lagunas, lying flat in the canoe the current drew us into the caves and we lit candles on ceremonial offerings made from banana leaves and bright flowers which we floated away after making a heartfelt wish. We really hope it comes true. On the last day we travelled three hours by car and speed boat to get to the remote Ko Similans and experienced some amazing snorkelling - startlingly clear, a myriad of vividly coloured fish, and gleaming coral - a beautiful, calm, life-affirming ocean spectacle.
Thailand - we will certainly be back.
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