Part Seven: The Travel Diary of South-east Asia

The Travel Diary of South-east Asia

Here continues the series for anyone who is interested about my travels over a year ago. I spent three months in South-east Asia. Though true to the actual handwritten diary in terms of events which I recorded on my trip day-to-day, I have changed the names and where possible gone into more detail for each day with the luxury of having a laptop this time around! For part six click here. Part seven concerns Ko Lanta, Railay Beach and Bangkok in Thailand.

29th of January 2019 - Ko Lanta, Thailand

I woke up and swiftly found out that Dan had gotten food poisoning last night from the restaurant. I went in the toilet after him and he most definitely wasn’t lying. I guess steering away from the meat had done me a great favour then. Dan was out of the equation, and this would be a good opportunity to get a taster of what it would be like on my own again. In truth it had been only 2 weeks since our meeting on the bus to Kuala Lumpur, but traveling has this weird time warp effect where it can feel like an age has passed one minute and like time has passed you by rapidly the next.
    I got on my old trusty moped - which might have been the most battered of what I’d been given so far - and I just drove. I turned my phone off, revved the engine up and just went where the road took me. As I advanced back along the dusty road that led from the hostel to the ferry where we first arrived I stopped and got a quick egg baguette, then I carried on following it, until the bubble of tourism was gone and now there was nothing, aside from various small wooden buildings where I assumed the locals must live when they weren’t waiting hand and foot on ignorant tourists like me.
    The whole thing has a ring of colonialism about it when you think about it. It was the revolutions of european thinking and the development of colonial power by my country and others that sought to convert the world into a capitalist economy. We succeeded, and we have cast the loaded die where they will always depend on us in some way or another. I should point out here that my diary is full of guilt and pieces such as these, I will try not to indulge in them too much, but they are essential in addressing the negatives to traveling.
    The gradient increased and I barely climbed a steep hill on the single-gear workhorse, whose chugs must have woken up whoever wasn’t yet awake in the surrounding area. I made it though, and noticed a bar in the trees that looked out over the water from on high. I got there and saw only two men, barman and local, who were deep in conversation and very surprised to see me. I had to buy 5 cans of coke along with a cocktail in the end because the note was too big for him to give me anywhere near the right amount of change. I apologised profusely and took my drinks over to the seat that had an ocean view. I looked out to another artful landscape and smiled when I thought about Stokes Bay at home, whose green seas would be whipping furiously under iron sky and onto harsh pebbles. Skipping a winter in the UK was something I’d have to try and make a regular occurrence.
    Afterwards, I left the bar practically unnoticed by the two friends and turned on my phone. I thought I’d look for Bamboo beach, and searching for it I found that it was around a 10 minute drive.
    Now Bamboo beach, let me tell you, is THE best beach you could ever ask for. It’s long, it’s white, it’s surrounded by hills and blue sea, and it’s empty! No one there aside from me and a couple that were specks in the distance. I lay down for hours there, reading, swimming badly and soaking up the sun. Even if there ends up being no new companions, so long as I have days like these to myself I’ll be alright.
    Eventually Dan rang me saying it had passed and I drove back, stopping along the way to people-watch at the fish market. What exactly was it about dried fish that was so nice, I wondered.
    We watched the evening dawdle past on the beach next to the hostel as Dan drunk gingerly until 9 and then went to bed. I smoked outside the hostel with a Greek guy named Leo and talked for hours about football, the great unifier. He told me about the beauty of the greek islands. I’d always undervalued them because all I’ve ever heard about was lads holidays happening on them. They would be added to the ever long list of places to go too after Leo’s descriptions. He also told me about semi-automatic motorbikes which I was hoping to use for Vietnam and I felt more at ease about it. Unfortunately Leo was heading home, so it was yet another person to melt into the night and never be seen again as I made leave for my bed.

30th of January 2019 - Ko Lanta > Railay Beach, Thailand

Mine and Dan’s last day!
    It had been a nice and chilled way to end our time, chatting, relaxing and saying farewell in the sun soaked sand. Ko Lanta we exited at 10am on a ferry, which took us somewhere I honestly don’t remember the name of, and then a small row boat picked us up from the next ferry and guided us into Railay Beach, where we had to literally wade in the water with our bags high up above our head for the last 20 meters to the shore. It was a particularly smooth way to make an entrance to the beach as various beautiful women across the breadth of it raised their glasses or laughed.
    Aside from a few singletons though this place was a couples location and looked ideal for that purpose. Railay was enclosed by rock and hills, and was very private, with that boat we were just on the only real way for travellers to get to and from it. We headed up from the beach to our resort some ten minutes away, and after checking in and having a dip in the pool (oh yeah, we’d splashed out nicely for our last night), I tried to sort out a transfer the next morning to Krabi Airport and the hotel said there was no way, except a private chauffeur taxi that would house just me for the equivalent of 60 pound. Blind panic. I almost bought it then and there until Dan gave me one last piece of wisdom and said ‘shop around’.
    Of course, as was the case with Thailand, Dan was right. We found a real early boat at 5am which already made me want to cry. Dan would leave at two, and so had a luxurious lay-in to enjoy. For our last meal, we actually found a vegan - yeah that’s right, vegan! - food stand, and Dan said he would partake in some devil food for me tonight. He did get chicken after but I’ll let him off. The vegan meal was a rice based dish with all kinds of vegetables with tofu, and actual substitute chicken chucked in there too.
    So, that was how our last night came to pass. More watching fire performers on the golden sands of Thailand, eating, drinking and chatting into the night. As I write this Dan’s still out there on the magnificent beach and I’m setting my alarm for four hours time. Good luck my friend (you’re gonna need it on Phi Phi!), and we’ll meet again some sunny day.

31st of January 2019 - Railay Beach > Bangkok, Thailand

Waking up at the crack of dawn has its small benefits. Not the feeling of supreme tiredness, or walking down a rickety pier and chucking yourself and your luggage in a long boat in the pitch black. Not the jostle of finding yourself a seat and the harsh sound of the small unstable propeller engine that takes you and a few dozen other zombified travellers to the transfer. Not the part where you miss the first minivan and get stuck alone with a Thai person who assures you in broken English you’ll be next. No, the benefit is when you turn away from all the stress that faces you at the harbour, light a cigarette and look out to see a sunrise through a break in the clouds on the horizon, with pink gold bathing the dock and beautifully shimmering off of the calm morning water
    Such a snapshot of natural beauty that immediately relaxed me and etched itself onto my day and into my camera folder. The best picture I’ve taken so far by a country mile. Anyway, the minivan finally leaves with me in it and I get to the airport and on the flight which is run by Vietjet air. Clearly the patriarchy of our world is perfectly reflected in the uniform and employees of Vietjet. All attractive asian women, all wearing the uniform of tight and short burberry skirts with similarly tight white shirts. What’s the bet that some seedy men are in charge of that?
    Before I knew it the flight was over and I arrived in Bangkok, where I began to try and figure out the train system to disastrous effect. Even with the symbols there on my phone I couldn’t match it to the signs and the woman at the counter had no idea what I was saying so I began to walk.
    It was only a 40 minute journey but along the way I was stopped three times. Each time, a man came up to me and asked where I was staying/ what I was planning to do/ did I want a free experience. All of these were obviously scams and I knew it from the very start. The way each one surveyed me, the way it was all too good to be true. I tried to be polite and declined with respect. Anything could happen if I was blunt or openly showed the fear that was going on internally. The walk luckily finally ended with me unscathed, but I was instantly not enjoying Bangkok, its tall buildings and grimy streets like that of London, but with a smog that made you hot and itchy. I think it’s also more of a shock considering the fact I’d come straight from the spacious and naturally beautiful islands in the south.
    I checked into my hostel which I had managed to get in a deal on Booking for £1 a night. Can you believe that? It had aircon and was actually in a decent position, 10 minutes from the infamous Khao San Road and with a spacious garden, where I immediately set up camp and lit a cigarette, reading more Tom Sawyer.
    I was nervous again. Alone for the first time in a while in a city I still didn’t trust, and with no idea of what to do here in Bangkok for the next two nights, I needed someone to talk to just so I could get out of my head. Luckily, after around 5 cigarettes, an Iranian guy named Farhad came up and asked for one and vuala, a new friend was made. Farhad was a real hardcore traveller. At home he was a tour guide for Iran, but he regularly went on adventures around the world with little money, relying on hitchhiking and the kindness of strangers to get by. He was handsome and fairly small, with a precocious smile and the ability to become very serious very quickly. He was staying here with his girlfriend Roxy, who he had met in China when he was there and who had decided to join him. Roxy was very pretty, and spoke not one word of English. She loved music and played the guitar which we managed to communicate to each other through Spotify and facial expressions.
    Farhad told me of his plans tomorrow to go and see the various floating markets around Bangkok, but that he wouldn’t be paying extortionate amounts for an experience that could be done for practically nothing, he had found a blog in English that I helped him understand fully in terms of train timings etc. and a plan was hatched between us. It would certainly be an adventure tomorrow, though I wasn’t looking forward to the 5am start it required, especially after this morning.
    After this Farhad and Roxy headed out for food and I got talking to a Canadian named Neil, who I instantly bonded with over the premier league. He was a United fan which obviously annoyed me, but we ended up having a good rest of the night staying up in the common room of the hostel, which had Fifa 07 on the PS3 and a computer to watch prem highlights. By the time I went to bed it was 1am and I couldn’t bear the thought of another alarm set for three hours so I sacked it. I’m sure Farhad would find his own way.

1st of February 2019 - Bangkok, Thailand

And how wrong I was about that. Pinch punch first day of the month indeed as I awoke to the persistent tapping of Farhad on my shoulder and him repeating my name. ‘Connor, Connor, Connor, my friend it is time to go’. I groaned piss off back I believe but he wasn’t going away. I’d have to face the early morning and the complex task ahead of us.
    Today has been overall an incredible experience, but it really required a dedication and understanding of timetables that really had me in a blind panic at many points. The first task was simple: get a tuk-tuk to the station we’d read about on the blog last night. Not so simple however when Farhad is bartering to the point of 5p and a stand-off ensues when we have 30 minutes to get there or we miss it and the next ones three hours later. But somehow we do manage it and Farhad does save me 5p so I guess that’s fine, and our surroundings are maddening. Not one tourist is at this station, and the single track is crowded by merchants and crowded card games as the train pulls into the frenzy.
    We get on this where we pay the equivalent of 50p to get on the train and ride to the end of the line. After this we have to get on a ferry across the river and from here we consult the blog and walk for 15 minutes to get to the next station. Here we had a wait of an hour, in which we walked around the desolate place surrounding the station, and absolutely shit ourselves when we saw a crocodile head from under a hut into the tiniest bit of marshland. There was surely no way that this would be a habitat for crocodiles, unless they were being bred for food, which was a vile thought. Still, to be within 30 yards of one was scary as hell and we soon retreated back to the platform, where I played Roxy and Farhad one of my bands songs on Youtube, and they both got very excited. Roxy played me one of her songs as well, which was a really nice melodic and soft folky sound. Her voice was amazing and I attempted to convey that to her with action. She just laughed none the wiser and then the train arrived.
    And this was the special part that me and Farhad had so wanted to be a part of. Because when you pay for a tour of the markets the most famous one is the railways market, and when on the tour you get to see the train pulling in from the platform. However, in this convoluted journey, we had just secured ourselves the seats not frequented by travellers often. We were on the train that would pull up to the market station. We had a 20 minute journey with no one but us and some locals on it as it pulled up, and what followed was one of the most incredible sights. As we looked to either side we saw the shelters of market stalls lifted up and brought out of the way of the train, and fruit bowls and dried fish and various other mysterious things touched the track. The sellers themselves were centimetres away from the wheels as they ground to a halt, and innumerable faces stared back at us through the glass, slightly perturbed that we had interrupted their market. A bit further back, the faces of two tour groups looked quizzically at us and then their tour guide. How come they hadn’t got to go on the train?
    We got off fairly smug and walked up and down the market stalls. I was desperately looking for something to buy to eat but clearly this market wasn’t for us at all. Raw goods was all there was, along with the smell of fish and a fruit shop where I managed to forage a banana and some grapefruit. Farhad was a mixture of brilliant and slightly annoying in his persistence with the locals. He had laughs with them, danced with them and overdone it with consistent questioning and bartering. Nonetheless, what a character to be with exploring.
    After watching the train pull out and seeing the markets immediately pull their covers down in the blistering sun we looked again to the blog and how to find the floating market. This led us to one of the many carriages that were for locals. You basically pay the driver 10 baht and he’ll take you along with 15 others in the cramped truck at the back to a general location that’s kind of where you need to be. I checked my phone map and saw it was a ten minute walk from drop off point to floating village, which only provided disappointment. It wasn’t properly open until nighttime, which was much too late for us to wait for from midday.
    So now there was just one more to tick off, and we employed the same tactic of getting into one of the trucks and hoping for the best. Again it worked and this floating market was much better. We got on a boat and went around the stools that lined the waters edge, and I bought things I didn’t need to the sound of Farhad’s tuts, while Roxy bought a little drum. Farhad held a massive snake at one of the stools when we got off the boat which I had to run away from with Roxy and watch from a great distance.
    Now though, we were screwed. So far on travel we had spent a negligible amount whereas the tours had paid upwards of £40. However, they had a lift back, and we were now miles from a station and had no idea on the timetables for trains back to Bangkok. Something the blog had negated to tell us was how we’d get back exactly. It’s not even like we were in Bangkok at this point. We were so far away it was essentially like being in a different county back in the UK. I fretted to Farhad about what we were going to do and his carefree responses gradually wound me up until I went off on my own. What the fuck was I going to do? I had only around 100 baht on me and nowhere to draw out anything, while grab was non-existent out in this area. I smoked 3 cigarettes in a row, before Farhad found me on the outskirts of the market and apologised.
    He said we would be fine, and begged me and Roxy - who was similarly annoyed by his optimism and lack of a plan iit seemed - to follow him. We walked inconsequentially for 30 minutes in the heat until I stopped to drink the last of my water. Farhad pointed ahead to a motorway, and here we stood on the hard shoulder, waving at anybody and everybody, until a pick-up truck stopped for us. Here Farhad worked his charm, and got us in the back for 15 miles or so, where the man could take us no further. Then a couple with a young baby took us to within 50km of Bangkok, and here again we remained stuck for an hour.
    I finally convinced Farhad to spend some money after I managed to get a minivan to pull over with 3 small seats spare. We paid 35 baht each, much to Farhad’s dismay, but finally we were on our way back. I sat slightly disgruntled for most of the way but loosened up when I realised what an adventure it had been. Hitchhiking? Me? Around Bangkok of all places, with an Iranian and a Chinese woman. It was hard to get over when I really thought about it. We got on a bus for 10 baht in the city centre to Khao San and headed back to the hostel just as it got dark.
    The day was far from over and I saw Neil and instantly gave him an update on the madness of my day, before we went for a pad thai close-by. Here Neil told me about all the positives to Couch Surfer. There was a hangout option on the application where you put your location and other solo travellers in the same place could join you to hangout. Downloaded instantly. After this we went out for a few beers and I got pretty fucked. Neil left at around 11pm and I hung out with some yanks who I don’t remember the names or faces of. You know the thing about Khao San road? It’s just too noisy. I reckon every tourist there must have been in their twenties, but surely everyone mid-twenties or later must have been thinking like me. It’s not a competition to see how fucking loud your speakers can go when yoiur next door. Listening to a club remix of Justin Bieber or Ed fucking Sheeran is NOT how I want my eardrums to burst, thank you.
    Aside from that Khao San is a remarkable and horrific street to walk down. Beautiful women offer you private massages as a man with three teeth offers you a fried spider. A 7/11 will serve you a nice cheese toasty and you’ll walk out to the sight of a crocodile on a revolving pike, there sliced to pieces like its a piece of donner meat for any drunk person who fancies it. A Thai beatles cover band play She Loves You impeccably as tuk-tuk drivers offer you ping pong sex shows and a suspiciously cheap ride home or anywhere. As a drunk person with vices it is truly dangerous, but for me it was a brilliant night, if a bit sketchy. I stumbled home and hit the sack probably around 4am. Time to move on again...

For part eight click here