Hephalumps, tiggers, Jappaners, oh my! Part 2

Kanchanaburi Part Deux. Took place on the latter part of the 24th and the 25th of September, 2007.

****

So, where was I?
Ah yes, after another meal of, admittedly tasty, rice and stir fried veg (once again, I gave any suspected meat a wide birth) I decided to play it cool with Clara, waiting for her to make the first (or was it fifth? sixth?) move, setting myself aside from the group with my new best friend Chang, my travelogue (which I've sadly made little use of, since these old finger joints have much more ease typing than writing) and fairly splendid view of the river beneath the moon. Suffice to say, the plan to play aloof, backfired rather well, as she headed off to an early night and I was left with another reenactment of a particular Simpson's episode, from dear Johaness. He seems a fairly easy going chap, for a German, but one has to wonder how he would react to me confessing my intentions on his older sister. Not well. And those tall guys hit hard.
(Pictured, Clara playing the Buddhist monk. Appropriately enough, there was one sat right across from us at the time. Germans are tactless. It's a historical fact. Funny, though!)

Needless to say, it was several more bottles before I could console myself with the fact that I would try again with dear Clara on the morrow and I would content myself with the company of Johan, Hiroko, Mikune and Portugeuse chap who's name I forget but who proved to be a veritable font of knowledge about all things travel and backpacking related.

After sleeping a fairly restless night on the river, where the crickets are deafening and the walls are thin and the neighbours snoring, I awoke to another beautiful day of wall-to-wall sunshine in Thailand. At least I slept better than in the Bangkok guesthouse, situated as I was above some great mechanical device in the alley below that turned off and on, seemingly at random, throughout day and night. I need better ear plugs. But I digress.

I awoke somewhat haggard at seven am (impressed???) and after a much needed cold shower, to wash away troublesome thoughts and jungle sweat, I stumbled in the direction of the eating area. ( A mighty ship of the river)

That is to say, a raft some twenty feet away from my room, joined by suspect planks of wood and covered in confidence-inspiring (not!) linoleum. Sitting down to a breakfast of over-easy eggs (from what animal, I know not) and toast (with strawberry jam! Huzzah!) and the first cup of tea since leaving England (a good one at that) I could scarcely manage to form the thoughts required to shovel food into my mouth, let alone think once more upon Clara and her puzzling ways. No sooner had I begun to tuck into my first meal of the day, than Sidjne should sit down across from me, in all her Nordic loveliness. It is fair to say, my mind being fickle as it is, she soon took my mind off the German temptress, as we chatted about everything and nothing whilst I tried to look anything but uncouth as I ate my food and she sat across from me, having already eaten. We shared a common dislike for the Asian climate, being from such bracing countries and, like all travellers meeting in the night (or morning, as the case may be) it was enough to establish a bond.

Alas, no sooner had we begun to speak fluidly and freely and laugh at one another pictures of, well, one another, then our chief guide, whom I shall call Pip the Untimely, said we were to leave. Or rather I was to leave in one direction, and Sidjne in another. No sooner had I found something to ease my troubled heart on the subject of Clara, than my saviour was whisked away from me, back to Bangkok and then on to Vietnam with a friend from home. More's the pitty, I forgot to get her email address and I suspect I shall never see, but always remember tha breakfast we share together, Sidjne again.

(Pictured, Sidjne - pronounced Xena!)
So, today we were off to Erawan National Park, reknowned perhaps more famously - in the region at least - for it's waterfall. It is actually a cascade of rising pools that climb a mountain through the jungle, which huffing, puffing, sweating, smelling tourists can climb if they have the stomach, constitution or muscular stamina. I made it to the fifth (of seven) tier before my fair complexion and fairer constitution gave out and I promptly collapsed in a nearby pool, splashing about like and idiot and probably ingestion more than my fair share of fish and mosquito eggs. We shall see what comes of that in the coming days, shan't we!














(Pictured, two tiers of the seven tier waterfall of Erawan)



As for the situation with the Komely Lass from Koln, things went from bad to worse, as I became somewhat dejected that even if I did win her attentions, she would be gone, off to Indonesia and out of my life before the Sun had even risen to it's apex (that is to say, lunchtime!). So, I did what any Englishman would do in my place. I sulked. And I climbed a waterfall...and shared a few brief moments with Clara, before exchanging email addresses (as well as with ever-entertaining Johan) and saying tearful goodbyes (well, I was crying, at least...almost!).

Still sulking with traditional Ashfield aplomb, the two days in Kanchanaburi ended with a visit tp the so-called Tiger Temple. I didn't see any temple. I don't think I even saw any monks. What I did see what beautiful tigers and tiger cubs drugged to the gills (for how else what they remain so placid whilst idiot fat tourists groped at them?) in the paltry shade of the afternoon sun. It is true, that Clara had influence my opinion of the place, as she had delared the place as a symbol of everything that was was wrong with Thailand. That is to say, if the tourist will pay for it, they'll sell it. She certainly made me feel guilty for wanting to pet a tiger. Perhaps it was because my mood was still sullen over Clara departure or perhaps it was the sight of those majestic and above all WILD animals roll over at the handlers beck and call (no, no, nothing like Millie, I'm sorry to say, no love there, only obedience) but I found the whole place depressing and the slack-jawed tourists who queued up and paid stupid amounts of money to be seen with the tigers, bilious. I strolled around the rest of the so-called temple, which was filled with boars, cows, fowl and water buffalo (tiger lunch, breakfast and dinner, I suspect) who were mercifully roaming free. I saw some tiger cubs being paraded about some more, as cooing idiots picked them up. As for myself, I stood beneath the shade with a herd of local cows (skinny, flop-eared buggers!) and asked them for their take on the situation. Their glum, glassy eyes said more than words ever could. Smoothing the nearest cow, I wondered if I was part of the problem, even to come to the tiger temple, if not pay the huge fees to be photoed with the tigers. After all, if we want it, they'll sell it. Anyway, my new bovine friend reminded me not to be so serious; this is Thailand, after all, as he nuzzled me with the most affection I've gotten so far on this trip (aside from some over-eager masseuses that is but more on that next time). I was almost taken in by the cow's friendliness until he decided to start eating my boot laces, at which time I bid him adieu, his eyes filled with sadness and my heart made of stone.

Arriving back at our transportation (that is to say a pickup with some tarpaulin pulled over it; we sat in the back, all eight of us!) I sipped at amazingly free ice water (nothing is free in Thailand, even if it is cheap) whilst chatting with a German woman who was there with her husband Manfred, her son son Heimlich and her daughter Gert. Actually, I only know the husband's name - the kind of German who likes to wear short shorts but can thankfully get away with it!) Her strange son looked like a Heimlich and her...large daughter was most certainly a Gert. A nice family all, though, and I shared some brief conversing with them about sting rays and beer (as you do) with them before I said goodbye to them too. One last conversation with the wise and well travelled Portugeuse chap about the trials and tribulations of going on holiday with your girlfriend, and I was on my own again, in the the back of an honest-to-goodness minibus, toward Bangkok, with a drop off in Nagom Pathom - or something - just for me and my sleeper train.

On the way there, I was sat next to two northern lads from Sheffield who were very friendly but suffering from the heat even more than I. I gave my bottled of frozen water to one of them most in need of dire coolling and made a friend for like, or so I assume. I shan't see either of them ever again but such is the nature of the traveller. TO be honest, I just didn't want him going into convulsions from heat stroke and causing me to miss my train. As it was, as the karmic fates like to mock me, I arrived at the train station a full three hours before my train was due with nothing to do but watch my bags, suck on an ice lolly and try to remember when I had last eaten a meal.

As for the train journey, the bus journey, the ferry journey and the final car journey to a comfortable bed on Ko Samui, that story will have to wait for another day. My blood alcohol level is dangerously low and the guy down the street has been trying to get me into his club for the last three hours whilst I traipsed from beach to bar to beach to bar... to bar, all night now. It's time to reward him and my liver, and pine after a girl named Clara.

Oh, I almost forgot. Lots of butterflies at the Erawan waterfalls. So big and colourful and shapely, you wouldn't believe! I saw one fly over the carpark which had the wing-span of a black bird (no kidding!!). It was black and yellow with frilly wings. Look it up for me, if you will and you can find it. Also, I now own a plate with my face on it. I'll be damned if I know when they took the picture but there it was before me, as the touts showed it to me as I returned from the waterfalls. I probably could have haggled but I bought it full price. I don't think it'll survive the journey but C'est la vie.

Anyway, I should be going before I fall asleep at the keyboard here. I dread to think what they charge for that! More tomorrow, folks. Koh Samui, three foot tall porters and Indian tailors who speak like Del Boy and claim to be Gurkkas named Mr Sam and Mr Tiger. Until then, good night.

Take care.

- Wayward Son/Grandson, Jamie

xxxxx

(Pictured, my travel bag. On a bunk. In a train. On the way to Koh Samui. SUSPENSE!)

Amorous elephants, sleeping tigers, screaming Japanese girls and more! PART 1

This entry went out on the 26th and deals with my shenanigans beside the River Kwai, so far my favourite part of my trip. As I said before, I'll put context specific pictures on here, tomorrow, probably, assuming the net caffs are open on Sunday. I hope so, or I don't know what I'll do here in tourist central! Ugh!

****



Dear all
I can't actually remember who I told what in bite-sized texts, about happenings over the last few days, so I'll just get down to business where I left off. Except I cant remember where I was, when you last heard from me. Just been plucked off the streets, I think? No, you already know all about that. It was the night before the trip to Kanchanaburi, I think.

(Pictured, the road to Kanchanaburi)

After signing off with the words, 'early night of sobriety for' I made my way seemingly by accident, to one of my local haunts on now-imfamous in the family chronicle, Kao San Road. I had just the one lar-, er, small chang (Elephant!) beer to help me mull over my, perhaps, ill-spent money on a possibly phantom trip to the River Kwai and beyond.

After much *hic* mulling, I, by stroke of virtue, found a taxi driver who was both honest and knew the way to my guesthouse. I was home by 8, packed by 9 and asleep by 2 (bloody sanda-, heat!). Thankfully, my alarm on my phone woke me up. After showering and maybe a little praying to various gods that the mini bus would turn up, I took one last check around my room, only for the Madam of the house to tell there was a man waiting down stairs to take me to Kanchanaburi! And 20 minutes early, at that! Hastily taking some memory snaps of the place and on of it's owners (of which there seemed to be three, all sisters), I half stumbled, half crawled under my bulging ruck sacks after the driver, an elderly Thai gentleman with a pair of righteous whiskers trailing down his leathery cheeks.

Two bus changes and three hours later, I was on my way to Kanchanaburi, conversing freely from my seat beside the driver (complete with his speedometer which never went above, oh, ZERO!) with a couple from New Zealand called Alistair and Toni, he a mechanic, she a vet, taking a hop-skip journey to the UK to work there. They had just come from the Philipines, and am now reliably informed that Thailand is anything but backward by comparison. They and I spent the majority of our trip listening to the German girl behind me, Clara, as she gave them detailed information of what must have been every vital detail on the Berlin tourist scene in immaculate english. But more on the Teutonic Princess, later.

We reached the War Cemetary and the Bridge itself about 10 in the morning. It was hot. It was depressing. It was a little insulting to the veterans. Tourists walking down the many rows of graves, whilst the locals set up stalls outside, eager to milk Johnny Foreigner of his or her cash. The tourists were just as bad, of which I sadly count myself among. I left a donation in a few boxes but aside from that, I was just another sun-screen-stinking, camera-wielding invader into the place.



They did allow us to walk across the bridge itself, which was certainly something. The number of holes underfeet, and the narrowness of the path would not have stood in the UK, but the Thai's seem less interested in namby-pamby safety rails and heavy duty flooring. The Kiwi said, if it had been New Zealand (apparently quite the nanny state. No offense, Nannie!) there would have been a eight foot fence sealing off the area, with ropes attached to people crossed, with life rafts waiting on the water some distance below. But this is Thailand. They don't even knew the meaning of namby, let alone pamby!

So, after the River Kwai museum (complete with papier mache mannequins in various acts of death of dying, in the name of tourism), we stopped for lunch at what would be our hotel later that day. Predictably, we had pad thai, which is basically a load of rice, with stir-fried veg and meat thrown on top with soy, chilli or sweet sauce on. At least, I think that's what it's called. I've not really tried learning the language yet.

(Pictured, the Bridge over the River Kwai)

At lunch I met Clara properly, as well as her seven-foot tall brother, named Johanness. It hard to believe but both of them were exceptionally funny, and Johan and I quickly bonded over our shared encyclopedic knowledge of The Simpsons. She is working through a Biology degree and he through a bio-chemistry one. I must admit, though, that whilst I enjoyed chatting freely and easily with the brother (his english was perfect, though he said he MUST DO BETTER! typical German perfectionism, I suppose), it was the sister who I was more interested in chatting (up), more and more so as the day went on, and she voiced her views on everything from the rampant tourism in Thailand, (complete with the understood ironies of her statements) the treatment of the animals for the tourists' benefit and the value of my smelly feet in warding off (or perhaps attracting) tigers. I was quite smitten.


(Pictured, a rather gorgeous elly.)

Unfortunately, she seemed to relish making me uncomfortable and have me running in circles about her. It did not help that her mastery of sarcasm and toyingly caustic comments were equal to mine. She, Johan and I spent the afternoon riding elephants (uncomfortable! But lots of fun. Loads of pictures, courtesy of our mohawked, 14 year old driver "You gimme money for camera back?"). Cheeky sod. What else? Oh, rafting in the baking afternoon sun along the river Kwai, ten people to a raft, and one very hard working rower. With a very small oar. The poor guy, about 18, had huge arm muscles, (I wouldn't have liked to arm wrestle with him) yet even he was sweating buckets and panting and near collapse by the time we got down river to our get-off point. Effy (well it was something beginning with F,I think), a guy from Greece, who I shared my elephant (who I called John Merrick) with was tempted to jump in the river, as even he found the heat too much. However, he decided against it, since we had all used the floating house toilet facilities....that is to say dumping various unmentionables doesn the toilet, directly in the river.

(Pictured, a mahout - driver - climbing an elephant's trunk. As you do.)

After the raft trip, we crossed what can only be the bridge that that one in INdianna Jones and The Temple of Doom was based on. THe only difference was that it wasn't quite as high (but still high enough!) and it was held up by cables. Very thin and rusty cables. There were inummerable holes in the bridge. It was tasked to me to help a squealing Japanese grandmother and her equally anxious granddaughter across the bridge, for which they were profusely and quite embaressingly appreciative of. I'll be honest. I made the bridge wobble on purpose at times. So worth it, to hear the screams!

The last stop of the day before nightfall and Thai lady-boy karaoke, was a rather steep waterfall (which paled in comparison compared to the one seen the next day) and not much else. Actually, I tell a lie, we went on the Death Railway before dinner. It was a disturbingly pleasant experience, with the beautiful scenery and enjoyable company of Johaness, Clara and a 20 year old Danish girl named Xena (oh, sorry, I mean Sidjne). I felt quite guilty for enjoying the ride afterwards, when the thought of toiling prisoners building that railway filled my mind.

(Pictured, four elephant riders of the Apocalypse. Johannes, Clara, Me and a Greek guy named Effy)

After this, we went back for pad thai (again) and heavy drinking (in my case...no one else seemed to be). Before dinner, Johanness and I met a pair of Japanese guys (a few years younger than me) named Hiroki and Mikune who looked like gang members with their earrings, smoking and bandanas but couldn't reallly pull it off without looking charming, because of their inherrant Japanese humilty and politeness. In typical German bluntness, Johan asked them about their feelings on Japan in the War, amongst other things. They didn't seem to mind the questions. We saw our first glimpse of tropical rain as we put our feet up and chatted beside the slowly flowing river, and listening to wakening creatures in the jungle across the river.

And that's all for now, since I don't know how much they charge here in the cafe, and I've been here an hour and a half. I'll write the second part tomorrow, including such delights as thieving monkeys, mile high cascades, black bird sized butterflies and ignoring warnings not to swim in tropical waters. And of course, the trip south to Ko Samui, on which I now reside for the next week. Or less, if it proves too much, in which case I will make a run for Ko Tao, a decidely quieter place.

Tomorrow, like every other farang (Westerner) here, I shall hire myself a moped and explore this rather large island. Wish me luck!\

Lots of love, hope you're all well! Keep in touch! I enjoy reading your emails back. Reminds me of home but without making me homesick (yet...)
(Pictured, the River Kwai at dusk)

Jamie

xxxxx

P.S To answer your various questions -

- US dollars

- No, I have not been mixing illicit substances together

- I'm quite gullible but if you were here it would happen to you too, at first. I guaruntee it! Everyone I've spoken to has been scammed, no matter how minor. The ubiquitous phrase that shows you as a Bangkok visitor to other travellers is to utter the words "Good for you, good for me!" in immitation of the various touts.

- Best not send these emails off to an editor yet. Besides, I reckon lots of people do that. It might be more appealing than my last couple of failed novels, though! I'll certainly keep it in mind.

- Good to hear I got the trip quite cheap overall, if not in local terms. Phew!

- Yes, the bungalow is on stilts with a thatch roof, but it also has a big ceiling fan, a flush toilet, shower and cupboards. And is 2 mins walk from the beach. Now to remember how to get back there from here...

- I may well have caught the travel bug. The good kind. The bad one hasn't found me....yet.

- Chang beer is quite a bit more potent than most beers here, including imported Euro beers but it hasn't scoured me out yet. Perhaps I need to start drinking more of it? I even bought a Chang Beer t shirt!
(Pictured, some rather dashing fellow, subduing a mighty giant)

Be in touch tomorrow! :)

Day...?....Sunday?

You'll be pleased to see, I'm sure, that this next letter is a little more coherent than the last, a little more eloquent and a good deal less rambling...oh, wait, no it isn't! Well, as the Loaf used to say, two out of three ain't bad. Unless it refers to not having herpes, not having gonnorhea but having HIV instead. Without further adieu:


Hello Grumpies and Mille
Went to the Grand Palace where Rama Ix, in other words the siamese king. There were also a small countrys worth of temples, shrines and intimidating statues. They also love gold paint on their monuments over here, the gaudier the better apparently. And gems. Lots of gems. I got plenty of it on film but unfortunately, you weren't allowed to take pictures of the Emerald Buddha, in on of the temples. Or wear shoes in there. Or point your feet at him. He's the most important icon in Thailand and South East asia, apparently. He certainly had a big enough throne for someone three foot tall and inanimate. They even change his clothes every season. He has his winter wear, his rainy wear and his summer wear. I'm not joking! At least no one here preaches hellfire for sinners though quite conservative and devout. My last taxi driver hadx the Dalai Lama on his speedometer so I knew he'd be an honest one, which he was unlike one I had last night. Tell you later.

By the way, paragraphs on the computer means TWO taps of the enter key. Like above. Here endeth the lesson. Though I probably did the same as you last night.

Anyway, sweltering hot today. The sun came out at lunchtime, just as I was going around the grounds with all the other tourist masses. Have been hopping from cafe to cafe/bars when not sight seeing today. No booze today, though! And an early night. Need to pack and get ready for tommorrow's hopefully genuine trip out to Kwai and then down south on Tuesday night (on a sleeper train, 11hr, then boat trip, 6hr to Koh Samui, yeesh, hope it's worth it).

I actually haven't seen that much. Just lots of 'interesting' experiences. Like this morning before I went to the Palace (which, btw, makes Buckingham look rather shabby by comparison). I was strolling down Khao san and this huge, well dressed (white robes, etc), turbaned Indian with an orange beard came up to me. A lot of people do that here, all the time selling something. You usually say no thanks and wave them off. Takes a bit of practice, since we're engrained to be more polite in UK but I can manage it, without flatout ignoring most of them. Anyway, I assumed this one was going to sell me a suit; a small horde of indians here seem to do little else but tailor. He showed me a card and said he was selling anyting (ha!) and it said his name was Mr Singh, and he was a Yogi, which is a Sikh mystic, basically. There were a couple others like him I noticed later, for the first time. He said I have good karma by the look of my eyes. It was probably just the sweat dripping in my eyes. Anyway, he said a few good things about me, appealing to my vanity and must have succeeded or maybe I was just heat stroked. He uttered the imfamous words "Come with me, into my office". So, probably hypnotised at this point, I followed what must have been the tallest, burliest man in Thailand down a narrow alleyway...dun dun dun!

I passed about two Thais who gave me odd looks as I passed them, before we got to his office. Two plastic blue chairs, which amazingly held his weight and mine. He took my palm, after telling me I had an honest look and good karma on my forehead and eyes. I gave him my least scabby palm, lest he think I was plagued. He then proceeded to tell me about how he and his god and I were the only witnesses now to what would be foretold. He then, after asking for ten dollars for guessing my favourite number (I wrote it down on blank paper, turned it over, and it had my number on it) and a few other things about me being a writer. The usual magic trick stuff you see Derren Brown do. Very impressive in the flesh, though, so to speak. He asked for a token of good faith in "your money". I gave him ten dollars because I was impressed or hynotised or quietly terrified of being in this narrow alley facing this guy who looked like he twisted peoples heads off for Indian mugals in a past life. He then read my palm some more, and said I was honest and always out to help people without thought of profit in return (that'll be all that washing up and grass cutting then!), I'll have luck with writing in the 2008, a balding man will lead me to success in that field (Dad????) and a bad man with J at the start of his name will be jealous of me and try to ruin me. In the next year I will come into 85000 pounds, no more, no less. Oh, and I'll find love with a girl named Maya and marry her in 2009, and come back to Bangkok on the honeymoon. He said I was born on a good month and year but a bad day, and this has lead me to have little luck and profit from work or elsewhere. He said I will have much good luck in the coming year after a lot of bad luck in the past.

He then gave me his price. Two hundred dollars. I almost fell off my chair but for some reason, didn't run for it. Maybe because I liked my head facing forward, thank you very much. He said "I get these things right, they prove my predictions right too, and you pay me this fee. If wrong, you take back all money." I tentatively said ok. He gave me a piece of paper, blank, and it had been there for five minutes when he told me to tell him now how many siblings, my mother's name, my birthday, etc. Needless to say, he did some things with his fingers on his forehead and some chants, and some more talk of luck and karma, and told me to open my closed hand and look on the back of the portentous piece of paper. And there, in his handwriting were the answers I had given him just amoment ago, on a piece of paper that had been in my sweaty palm for more than five minutes.

Obviously it was a magic trick of some kind... but it was nonetheless very impressive that he had already written down the answers before I had given them, and answers he could not have guessed. He knew Mum's name, my birthday exactly, my lack of siblings, amongst other things.

Then, predictably, he said, smiling "So now you pay me two hundred dollar, yes? Wealth mean nothing before God, yes?"

Sweating now, more than even the stifling alley could account for, I paled, somewhere beneath my sunburned skin. "I.. uh... I'm not paying you that much"

"But you promised, sir! Before God, wealth is nothing"

"I can't afford all that! I'm a poor backpacker!"

"Oh, sir, you break promise, no good. One man pay me FIVE hundred dollar before@\"

"Well...uh...I'm...uh...I'll pay you fifty dollars" I stuttered, laughing nervously, half expecting a knife-weilding pack of indians to appear any moment, baying for no-good whitey's blood. Fifty dollars seemed a fair price to pay for my life.

"Oh, sir. One man pay me FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS. Oh, sir, I knnow you can afford it." Of course he did! He's a fortune teller, mind reader, Supreme Poobah Yogi! Yikes! He then proceeded to open his business pouch (yes really) and show me pictures of naked Yogis and kids that might have been his and him with a bunch of other Yogis at some American state fair by the looks of the tent and gaudy signs. Probably not, but still.

I finally struck upon a brilliant idea, spotting the piece of paper with the 85 grand figure on it. "I'll tell you what, man, when I get that big chunk of money, and I come back here with my future wife, I won't forget you. I'll give you hefty chunk of that cash, for being such a great and wise man"

Extreme stress and panic dulle only by heavy duty drugs made me more eloquent than ever before. He smiled begrudgingly, I slippped him another ten dollars, to be generous to the karmic forces he might turn against me, and we shook hands a half dozen times, spoke 'good luck' as many times too, and then handed me something I'm not allowed to tell anyone or show anyone. I suppose it's meant to safeguard my future karmic fates. And it only cost me about seventy dolla.

....

Well, at least I'm alive! And in retrospect, despite his appearance, he was a very nice and polite chap. That's the last time I go near a fellow in a turban, though.

Wow, that was long. Sorry to be a bore.

Anyway, food still good. Eaten in a several different places and no troubles, touch wood, yet.

As for card, I changed my CC pin, so it should have worked. I'll try it later today, with a smaller amount, like five pound's worth. Maybe it doesn't work in this country? And glad to hear virgin card getting sorted. Tried it just now, didn't get accepted.

A few bites but not too many. Bite stuff fixes it right up. Also, the geckos are voyeuristic perverts here. One was watching me shower last, the dirty bugger. Oh! And the shifty fat taxi driver last night, taking me home to guest house; he was a joker alright. Pretended he couldn't understand what I said, couldn't read my map, had never heard of the road. He then chuckled and said "you pay 150 baht now, and I turn off meter and we get there eventually." I was too drunk to make much sense of that, so agreed ot coast around until we found it. Even it it had taken an hour, it wouldn't have cost that much (about 2.50 pound) and I eventually cobbled onto this in my befuddled state, and told him where to go, and started walking home instead. It's about 25 minute walk from Kao san to my guest house. Except I wasn't in Kao san anyore. And I didn't know where I was. And I was intoxicated. And it was almost midnight.

Needless to say, I found my way home, by about 1am, with blisters on my feet (bloody sandals!), a limp and another experience under my belt. By comparison, I took four taxis today for thrice the distance eah, and in total tey cost about 120 baht. For all four. You live and learn. Only one tried to sell me something; a massage. I declined. I wasn't sure if he was the one who would do it,nor did I know what kind it would be.

But I digress. I sure other stuff happened but I can't remember right now.

Off out of Bangkok tomorrow at 7am, fingers crossed, so I'd best get a quick drink (who said that?!) in and then head back to guesthouse. It's 5.20 here, and I have to pack, wash and rest up. Hopefully, I set my phone alarm orrectly and it'll wake me... Or you could ring me at 11pm tonight?

I have about 19 poud left on phone. Txts are fifty pence, I think. Not sure.

Hope you're all doing well. Will send postcards tomorrow, hopefully. PO closed today. Might not be able to email till I get to Kah Samui. Will txt, though. Write me back, though, I like getting email replies. Take care. Lots of love.

Jamie

********

And there we have my second communique, written on Sunday apparently, the night before I set off for Kanchanaburi. Next time, elephants and Germans on the River Kwai. P.S I'll throw up some pictures to go with these letters eventually.

'One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster'...

...Or so I'm told. Anyway, I'm here in South East Asia, a little bored on Koh Samui and counting the hours until I can leave for Chiang Mai, up north. Over the past week, I've been writing home to friends and family with various emails regarding my exploits, experiences and explorations so far.

Like all good backpackers in the 21st century, I've decided to make a blog of my travels, with the small difference being they'll be more a compendium, codex and necronomicon of letters home - or rather emails - rather than being written specifically for a blog. If that makes sense. Naturally, in the mails, I applied my usual dubious flair to make them a bit more interesting for the fans back home.

I believe this was written on Saturday 22nd of September, 2007.

And so, without further faffing about:

HELLO ALL

YOU'LL HAVE TO BEAR WITH ME. NOT ONLY AM I SERIOUSLY DRUNK BUT IM ALSO TRYING TO USE A KEYBOARD WITH VERY CONFUSING THAI ALPHABETS.

PLANE RIDES LANDED OK, THOUGH DOHA WAS SHOCKINGLY HOT, DESPITE IT BEING AT NIGHT. YOU KNOW THOSE DEPARTMENT STORE FANS IN WINTER TIME THAT BLAST YOU WITH HOT AIR? DOHA WAS LIKE THAT. CONSTANTLY. I WAS ONLY OUT IN IT FOR FIVE MINUTES TOPS AND THAT WAS ENOUGH!

ANYWAY, FLIGHTS WERE NO PROBLEM, A BIT LONG BUT WHAT CAN YOU DO? SAT NEXT TO A QUIET AND FRIENDLY INDIAN ON THE WYA TO MUNBAI, ON FIRST LEG AND EVEN HE WAS SHOCKED BY THE HEAT IN DOHA! FLIGHT 2 WAS NO TROUBLE APART FROM ANNOYING PERSON IN FRONT WHO LEANED CHAIR ALL THE WAY BACK, SQUASHING ME. THAKFULLY, I HAD SEATS TO MYSELF. GOT SOME DUD PICTURES OF...CLOUDS. FLEW THROUGH THUNDERSTORM OVER INDIA. ALL I COULD SEE WAS THE FLASHING CLOUDS IN THE DISTANCE ND FEEL THE TURBULANCE. EXCITING!

ARRIVAL IN BANGKOK (SAMUIVIRUANI OR SOMETHING) AIRPORT WAS TRYING AND CONFUSING, AS EXPECTED. MANAGED TO AVOID THE TAXI TOUTS AND GOT THE AIRPORT EXPRESS BUS. TOOK HOUR TO GET INTO CITY. TERRIBLE TRAFFIC AD POLLUTION! ALSO, THE DRIVING MOTTO HERE SEEMS TO BE "GO FOR IT! AND TO HELL WITH EVERYONE ELSE!". THE HORN IS A TOOL HERE, NOT A WEAPON TO EXPRESS ONE'S ANGER LIKE IN UK.

I THE WANDERED AROUND BANGKOK IN MY USUAL POST-FLIGHT DAZE - THAT IS TO SAY CLUELESS AND LOST. THE GUEST HOUSE I CHOSE - FOR IT'S GOOD WRITE UP AND QUIETNESS - WAS A LONG WAY OFF FROM KAO SAN (BACKPACKER CENTRAL). AT FIRST I WAS INTIMIDATED BY THE TUK TUK AND TAXI DRIVERS ASKING TO ACCEPT MY PATRONAGE BUT AFTER AN HOUR OF WANDERING IN THE SWELTERING HEAT, I GOT ON THE FIRST TUK TUK I CAME ACROSS, WHO CHARGED AN EXTORTIONATE 100 BAHT (I WAS A NAIVE TOURIST AT THE TIME!). AT LEAST HE GOT ME THERE AND, MORE FOOL ME, I GAVE HIM A FIFTY BHT TIP! 150 = ABOUT 2.50 POUND, WHEN IT SHOULD HAVE COST ABOUT 60P IN A TAXI. BY THE WAY, A TUK TUK IS A TRICYLE MOTORCYCLE WITH A CAB SCREWED TO THE BACK. CRAZY THINGS AND THEY'RE EVERYWHERE, ALWAYS SHOUTING AT ME IF I "WANT RIDE? WHERE YOU GO?".



IT'S CERTAINLY AN EXPERIENCE BUT TAXI'S ARE BETTER, I FOUND TODAY. AIRCON FOR ONE. NO POLLUTION FOR ANOTHER. NOT AS FUN, THOUGH!

ANYWAY, THE OVERCHARGING TUK TUKKER BROUGHT ME RIGHT TO THE DOOR OF MY GUEST HOUSE BUT NOT BEFORE TRYING TO SELL ME A TOUR OF THE CITY WHICH I CONTINUOUSLY DECLINED OVER THE NEXT TEN MINUTE DRIVE. NICE GUY, THOUGH, DESPITE THAT. ALL THAIS ARE NICE, HAPPY PEOPLE EVEN WHEN THEY'RE RIPPING YOU OFF, THOUGH. NOT LIKE THE GRUMPS IN ENGLAD, NO NAMES MENTIONED, OI OI.

(Khao San Thanon - road - at night, pictured above. A very cliched snaphot)

GUEST HOUSE IS COMFORTABLE AND RELATIVELY COOL. DIDN'T SPLASH OUT ON AIR CON, GOT FAN INSTEAD. ONLY 280(3.50POUND) PER NIGHT. BARGAIN AND VERY CLEAN. SAW A GECKO IN THE SHOWER LAST NIGHT. THEY'RE ALL OVER WALLS HERE, AT NIGHT. WILL TRY TO GET PICTURES.

WANDERED STREETS NEAR HOTEL LAST NIGHT, AND WENT AROUND OLD WAT (TEMPLE) WITH A HUGE BUHHDA STATUE ABOUT 60 FEET TALL! PICTURES CAME OUT CRUMMY THOUGH. WILL GO BACK IN DAYTIME TOMORROW, THOUGH, IF IT'S OPEN ON SUNDAY. ALMOST STEPPED ON AN EMACIATED OLD HOMELESS MAN BUT HE'S THE ONLY ONE I'VE SEEN HERE.

STEPPED IN GOODNESS KNOWS WHAT IN THE STREETS. BANGKOK IS VERY...PUNGENT. NOT SMELLY, AS IN SEWERS BUT FOOD STALLS ARE EVERYWHERE, SO...PUNGENT. HAD TOFU KING PRAWN RICE THING FOR TEA LAST NIGHT. VERY NICE BUT QUITE EXPENSIVE FOR HERE, ABOUT 4 POUND FOR TWO COURSE AND BEER. BY COMPARISON TONIGHT'S MEAL AND DRINK WAS A THIRD OF THE PRICE. NICE PLACES BOTH, THOUGH. AND THE FIRST WAS VERY NEAR MY GUEST HOUSE, WHEREAS TODAY'S FOOD WAS A WALK AND A TAXI AND ANOTHER WALK AWAY. ALL GOOD FUN, THOUGH. TONIGHT'S FOOD WAS PRAWNS (AGAIN, MY CHOICE - WILL BE SICK OF THEM SOON!) AND FRIED RICE, CASHEWS AND VEG SERVED IN A HALF PINEAPPLE. OH, AND LAST NIGHT I LEARNED THE DEFINITION OF CHILLI SEASONED FOOD IN THAILAND. LETS JUST SAY THEY'RE A BIT MORE GENEROUS HERE. I WAS CRYING BY END OF MEAL BUT HID IT I HOPE FROM WAITRESSES!

ALSO, GOT SCAMMED TODAY... OR AT LEAST, OVERCHARGED. FUNNY STORY (IF YOU FIND BEING OVERCHARGED FUNNY). I WAS TRYING TO FIND THE STATION TO TAKE ME TO NEXT DESTINATION (KANACHANBURI? RIVER KWAI, ANYWAY). APPARENTLY, MY GUIDE BOOK IS OUT OF DATE AND STATION HAS BEEN KNOCKED DOWN.

OR MOVED.

OR SOMETHING.

THREE HOURS IN SWELTERING MIDDAY HEAT SEARCHING FOR PHANTOM STATION DOES NOT MAKE JAMIE A HAPPY CHAPPY, CROSSING BACK AND FORTH OVER RIVER CHANGSA PHAE. ANYWAY, FOUND MYSELF IN A PARK NEAR GRAND PALACE (SEE POSTCARDS TO COME) AND LIKE AN ANGEL, A MAN APPROACED AND ASKED ME WHERE I WAS GOING AND WHY. I KNEW HE WAS PLAYING ME BECAUSE NOT FIVE MINUTES EARLIER I HAD READ IN MY GUIDE BOOK ABOUT PEOPLE LIKE HIM. ANYWAY, I PLAYED ALONG, AND HE DIRECTED ME TO A GOOD TRAVEL AGENCY THAT HE JUST HAPPENED TO KNOW, DESPITE THE FACT THAT HE WAS SECURITY GUARD, GUIDE AND MANY OTHER THINGS ACCORDING TO HIS FAKE ID. HE DIRECTED ME TO TAKE A TUK TUK THERE, AFTER WRITING DOWN THE NAME OF THE PLACE TO GO.

NO NEED, THOUGH! FOR SIXTY SECONDS LATER, A TUK TUK ARRIVED AND SAID HE KEW WHERE I WANTED TO GO, AND SAID I LOOKED FAMILIAR...AS IN, MY DESCRIPTION WAS GIVEN BY THE OTHER GUY. A SMOOTH OPERATOR TO SAY THE LEAST. THE DRIVER;S ENGLSIH SEEMED TO BE CENTRED AROUND ENGLISH FOOTBALL (MANCHEST UNITE!! AHAHAHA!" HE LOVED TO SAY, BEFORE SQUEEZING MY LEG AND NOT PAYING ATTENTION TO THE ROAD!)

I EVENTUALLY FOND MYSELF AT AN "OFFICIAL" GOVERNMENT TRAVELAGENT. IT WASN'T BUT IT WAS VERY SMART AND COOL INSIDE FOR HOT AND BOTHERED JAMIE. TEN MINUTES LATER, A THAI MAN NAMED JOHN HAD PUT TOGETHER A PACKAGE THAT INCLUDES TEMPLES, TIGERS, ELEPHANTS WATERFALLS AND RAFTING ON RATTAN RAFTS(WHIHCH I WANTED), AND LATER A TRIP BY MYSELF (AS OPPOSED TO WITH OTHER MUGS, ON THE FIRST FEW DAYS) DOWN TO THE SOUTH ISLANDS. NAMELY KOH SAMUI, AN OVERCROWDED TROPICAL PARADISE FROM WHAT IVE HEARD. I HAVE A BUNGALOW BOOKED THERE NOW, FOR A WEEK (WHICH I WANTED). I'LL PROBABLY THEN GO TO A QUIETER ISLAND DOWN THERE, THEN BACK IN THE DIRECTION OF CHIANG MAI (NORTHERN tHAILAND) AND LAOS.

THE TWO TRIPS COST ME ABOUT 200 POUND. A LOT FOR THIS COUNTRY AND ALMOST CERTAINLY MORE THAN MORE SAVVY TRAVELLERS WOULD PAY BUT ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, A LOT LESS THAN A UK OR OTHER WESTERN TRAVEL AGENT WOULD TRAVEL. I GUESS THESE THAI FOLKS ARE NO MORE SCAM ARTISTS THAN SAGA AND THOMPSOM...

...THAT'S ASSUMING THE BUS TURNS UP ON MONDAY MORNING AT SEVEN! ALL AN EXPERIENCE, AS THEY SAY, AND I SAW OTHER WHITE PEOPLE IN THERE, SO IT'S NOT TOO SHADY, I HOPE. FEW OF THEM SEEM TO VENTURE OUTSIDE KAO SAN ROAD, I'VE SEEN. I SPENT HOURS ELSEWHERE SEARCHING ABOUT TODAY AND SAW ONLY ASIANS. QUITE A CHANGE FROM NORFOLK! I WAS ACTUALLY STARING AT THE WHITE PEOPLE, BECAUSE *THEY* WERE THE ONES WHO STOOD OUT, AFTER A WHILE.

I AM ENJOYING MYSELF, THOUGH AND AM GLAD TO HAVE STUFF ORGANISED FOR THE SOUTH ISLANDS AND ELSEWHERE NOW. THE FIRST DAY I BARELY REMEMBER BECAUSE OF JET LAG AND LACK OF SLEEP. TODAY HAS PROGREESSIVELY IMPROVED MY OPINION OF BANGKOK, THOUGH. ESPECIALLY THEIR BEER.

TO PUT IT SUCCINCTLY, BANGKOK IS HOT, STICKY, FRAGRANT, CLOYING, LOUD, BEWILDERING, EXCITNG, FUN AND ALMOST CERTAINLY DEADLY.

(Pictured, inside the Gilligans pub at the end of Khao San. Surprise, surprise, the picture doesn't come out in a dark club when you turn the flash off!)

I HOPE EVERYONE IS DOING WELL THERE. IT'S ALMOST 9PM HERE AND I MIGHT SNATCH YET ANOTHER BEER BEFORE BED, SINCE I HAVE NOTHING CONCRETE PLANNED TOMORROW. EARLY NIGHT ON SUNDAY, FOR MY NEXT TRIP ONWARDS, LEAVING THE CAPITAL BEHIND FOR A WHILE. I'LL TRY NOT TO GET ANOTHER TATTOO RIGHT NOW AS I'M A LITTLE TOO INEBRIATED TO MAKE SUCH DESCISIONS BUT NO PROMISES. IN FACT, I PROBABLY WILL. AT LEAST IT WON'T HURT. AND I'LL TRY TO GET THEM TO DO IT INSIDE MY OLD ONE...

..OR ON THE OTHER ARM, BENEATH SHIRT SLEEVES. THERE ARE TATTOOIST AD BODY PIERCISTSX AND BARS AND BODY PAINTERSX AND MASSAGE PARLOURS AND CLOTHES SHOPS AND MORE BARS AND RESTAURANTS EVERYWHERE IN THIS DISTRICT. AND INTERNET CAFES, OBVIOUSLY. BASICALLY, THE THAIS ARE SELLING WHATEVER WESTERNERS WANT MOST, IN KAO SAN, NAMELY A *BIT* OF LOCAL CRAZINESS AND CULTURE AND A BUNCH OF FAMILIARITY.

ANYWAY, HOPE YOU'RE ALL DOING WELL.

HUGS AND KISSES FRO BANGKOK, ESPECIALLY FOR PUPPIES!

JAMIE


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And there we have my first email home to the folks, grandfolks and various other affiliates, affectionate admirers and antagonistic arseholes. Drunk, vaguely offensive and colourfully full of wonder and amazement; just like Thailand.