Racing Time and Chasing a Passport |
 71 THAILAND (4)338 Kilometres - 7 Days26 April - 3 May 2015
|
Between Kingdoms: My
Reluctant Journey Through Thailand and Cambodia
Prelude
Every
now and then, the journey throws in a gentle reminder that you are not, in
fact, in control. This particular chapter began with a perfectly reasonable
plan: Cycle through Myanmar to India. Simple. Efficient. Almost professional.
Naturally,
it fell apart almost immediately.
Instead
of smooth progress, there were a lost passport, deadlines, two-week visa
limits, embassy queues, and the creeping suspicion that I had seriously
underestimated how long anything takes
in real life. Throw in a bit of tropical heat and some highly questionable
decision-making, and things were off to a solidly chaotic start.
What
followed was less a well-executed route and more a loosely connected series of
events involving cycling at odd hours, improvising solutions to self-created
problems, and occasionally wondering why I thought any of this was a good idea.
Somewhere
along the line, Cambodia entered the picture—bringing with it temples, heat
intense enough to melt ambition, and a history impossible to ignore.
In
short, the plan didn’t survive. But, as it turns out, that’s often when things
get interesting.
26–27
April – Mae Sot to Bangkok (By Bus, with Questionable Life Choices)
After
losing my passport in Myanmar—a minor inconvenience unless you enjoy borders
refusing to let you pass—I miraculously rediscovered my old passport buried at
the bottom of a pannier. Like most important things in life, it had been there
all along, quietly minding its own business.
It
even had two blank pages left. Two. I was practically rich.
My
mission was clear: get to Bangkok and apply for a new passport before my
current one officially retired from active duty. At the time, Thailand allowed
a two-week stay at land borders, which meant I was not operating under a very
relaxed, completely manageable, not-at-all-stressful deadline.
Naturally,
I sprang into action… and immediately hit my first obstacle: the next bus only
left at 18:50.
With
nothing else to do except wait and sweat, I left my bike at the hotel and went
on a short exploration of Mae Sot. By “exploration,” I mean I lasted about ten
minutes in the heat before retreating indoors like a sensible person who had
made several poor decisions leading up to that moment.
The
bus ride itself was surprisingly pleasant. I dozed off and woke up at 3 a.m.,
which is never a reassuring time to wake up anywhere, least of all on the
outskirts of Bangkok.
The
bus station was about 10–15 kilometres outside the city, surrounded by
roadworks and puddles that looked like they might contain either water… or the
end of my journey. It had rained the night before, and I found myself cycling
through mud in near darkness, carefully avoiding anything that looked even
slightly suspicious—which, unfortunately, was everything.
At
that hour, Bangkok was eerily quiet. The streets were occupied by a strange mix
of the homeless, the drunk, and the mildly unhinged.
It
didn’t take long to realise I fitted in beautifully.
28–30
April – Bangkok (Paperwork and Existential Reflections)
The
next few days were spent rushing around the embassy, filling out forms and
handing over money—an experience I hadn’t missed nearly as much as I thought I
might.
It
felt like a brief return to my old life, except this time I was wearing cycling
shorts and carrying everything I owned in bags that smelled faintly of damp
socks.
While
waiting, I noticed men in suits marching purposefully past, talking into
phones, making deals, and generally looking important. Their tone, posture, and
seriousness triggered something deep inside me—a faint memory of deadlines,
meetings, and PowerPoint presentations.
I
stood there, eating an ice cream, watching them, thinking:
“Been there, done that… and I definitely prefer this.”
Of
course, that feeling might change somewhere up the next mountain pass, but for
now, homelessness with a bicycle felt like an upgrade.
1
May – Bangkok to Chachoengsao (85 km of Regret and Traffic)
Good
news: the new passport will be ordered and sent to Bangkok.
Bad
news: It took five months and I only had two weeks in Thailand.
Clearly,
the only logical solution was to pretend this wasn’t a problem and continue
cycling around Southeast Asia.
Getting
out of Bangkok took almost the entire day, which felt more like a gentle
departure than a slow escape. The city seemed reluctant to let me go, throwing
traffic, heat, and general chaos in my path.
Eventually,
I broke free—slightly traumatised, but free.
2
May – Chachoengsao to Sa Kaeo (125 km of Heat, Rain, and Coffee Diplomacy)
Another
day, another attempt to slowly cook myself alive.
Thankfully,
clouds rolled in around midday, followed by rain—sweet, glorious rain. I pulled
over at a roadside restaurant, where communication was limited to pointing,
smiling, and hoping for the best.
Miraculously,
this strategy produced a decent cup of coffee.
We
may not have shared a language, but we shared something more important: a
mutual understanding that coffee was non-negotiable.
I
waited out the storm, stretched the coffee experience as long as socially
acceptable, and continued on to Sa Kaeo, where a signless “hotel” and a
calculator-based pricing system secured me a room. International communication,
at its finest.
3
May – Sa Kaeo, Thailand to Cambodia (107 km and a Gentle Introduction to Chaos)
The
Po Pet border marked a noticeable shift: leaving Thailand’s relatively
organised environment and stepping straight into Cambodia’s more…
improvisational approach to structure.
The
crossing itself doubled as a full-blown market, requiring me to navigate what
felt like an obstacle course of stalls, noise, and general confusion before
reaching immigration.
It
was chaotic, loud, and slightly overwhelming.
In
other words, I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
At
this point, any lingering illusion that this journey was under control had
quietly slipped away somewhere between the muddy potholes of Bangkok and a
roadside coffee stop in the Thai countryside.
From
here on, things would only get hotter, dustier, and significantly less
predictable.
Perfect.
