Showing posts with label Micah. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Micah. Show all posts

Saturday, 6 April 2019

150 A VISIT TO THAILAND - Micah & Rouen

Heat, Tuk-Tuks, and Questionable Decisions




150 Thailand (19.1)

A Family Journey Through Thailand

15 March - 5 April 2019


PHOTOS

PDF

 VOICEOVER

FLIP-BOOK 

 


Prelude

It began, as many excellent misadventures do, with a wildly optimistic timetable and a backpack that may or may not have contained everything required for three weeks in a tropical climate. Within hours, we were reunited, partially dressed (thanks to missing luggage), and standing in Bangkok—one of the world’s great cities—trying to look like people who knew exactly what they were doing.

We did not.

What followed was a journey involving trains that tested the limits of human resilience, tuk-tuks driven with philosophical disregard for mortality, markets that politely folded themselves away for passing trains, and an alarming number of decisions made in extreme heat. Along the way, we encountered history, culture, beaches, temples, and more varieties of food than seemed strictly necessary—some of which stared back at us.

It was, in short, exactly the kind of trip that begins sensibly and then wanders cheerfully off course.

 

 

13–14 March – Jomtien, Pattaya - Laundry, Logistics, and the Dangerous Illusion of Readiness 

I had precisely one day—an absurdly optimistic allocation of time—to do laundry, repack, and convince myself I still knew where my passport was, before heading to Bangkok to meet Rouen (brother-in-law) and Micah (niece) for what would become a three-week adventure in Thailand.

The journey itself was commendably straightforward, which is always slightly suspicious in Southeast Asia. An airport bus, followed by another bus to Khao San Road, and finally a short stroll to the Riverline Guesthouse—no navigational errors, no existential crises, and only a mild sense that I’d boarded at least one vehicle on blind faith.

 

15 March – Bangkok - Missing Luggage, River Breezes, and Early Philosophical Conclusions

Rouen and Micah arrived at around 3:30 p.m., looking remarkably composed for people who had just endured a long-haul flight—an experience usually akin to being slowly tenderized in a metal tube. Impressively, neither showed any desire to collapse into a horizontal position and remain there for days.

Unfortunately, Rouen’s luggage had chosen to holiday elsewhere, which meant an immediate and slightly frantic search for clothing. There is nothing quite like buying emergency outfits in Bangkok to make one reassess both style and dignity.

With time still on our side—and priorities firmly in order—we embarked on my favourite budget activity: the grand 30 THB sunset cruise on the Chao Phraya River. This involved catching the last ferry to its final stop and returning on the final boat, a strategy that felt both economical and faintly rebellious.

The river itself was a scene of glorious chaos—barges lumbering along like overfed hippos, commuters packed into boats with admirable patience, and a steady stream of traffic that suggested nobody had ever seriously considered slowing down. The breeze, however, was magnificent, providing a fleeting illusion that Bangkok might be something other than a large, extremely humid oven.

We returned in time to head for the Gecko Bar for food and beer—both essential cultural experiences. Later that evening, Rouen and I sat on the Riverline terrace, solving the world’s problems with increasing confidence as the beers disappeared. By the end, we agreed the world was indeed in a terrible state, though neither of us could remember exactly why, and retired to bed feeling oddly satisfied with our analysis.

 

16 March – Bangkok - Golden Buddhas, Curious Charms, and a Nation’s Unfortunate Timing with Alcohol

After a deeply satisfying bowl of noodle soup (proof that happiness can be achieved for a few baht and a plastic stool), we set out to explore old Bangkok.

Our wandering took us past Phra Sumen Fort—one of only two survivors of the original fourteen—a statistic that immediately suggests the others did not enjoy especially long or peaceful careers. Following the destruction of Ayutthaya in 1767, Bangkok became the new capital, complete with walls and canals designed to keep undesirable visitors at bay—although modern traffic appears to have breached those defences quite thoroughly.

We then drifted into the amulet market, a place that exists somewhere between sacred tradition and mild unease. The stalls were filled with tiny charms and talismans, eagerly examined by men peering through magnifying glasses with the intensity of diamond merchants. Intended for good luck, protection, or fertility, some items looked reassuringly spiritual. Others looked like they might summon something unfortunate if handled incorrectly. A few, frankly, seemed best left entirely alone.

Next came Wat Pho, home to the enormous reclining Buddha, which is less a statue and more a golden tidal event. At 46 metres long and 15 metres high, it gives the impression that Buddha has simply decided to lie down for a moment and may not be getting up again anytime soon. Shoes off, we shuffled in with appropriate reverence.

On exiting, we purchased bowls of coins and dutifully dropped them into 108 bronze bowls lining the wall. This produced a surprisingly beautiful ringing sound, somewhere between meditation and a particularly gentle slot machine. The money, I was reassured, goes towards maintaining the temple—so at least one of my financial decisions that day could be considered virtuous.

That evening we strolled along Khao San Road—a place that manages to be simultaneously chaotic, lively, and faintly absurd. We sampled insects (an experience I can confirm is optional but memorable), drank fruit smoothies, and learned that it was election day—meaning no alcohol was being sold. This would normally be devastating news, but Rouen, demonstrating admirable foresight, had brought two bottles of South African red wine. Crisis averted.

We enjoyed them on the roof terrace overlooking the Chao Phraya River, feeling quietly triumphant in the face of regulatory inconvenience.

 

17 March – Bangkok - Bangkok / Maeklong / Amphawa - Trains Through Markets and Other Perfectly Sensible Arrangements 

A “slight misunderstanding”—a phrase that covers a multitude of travel sins—resulted in us missing the train to Samut Songkhram, home of the famous Maeklong Railway Market.

Undeterred, we caught a later train, endured a lengthy and character-building wait for a connection, and eventually decided that a minivan taxi might be a more efficient expression of modern civilisation.

This turned out to be an excellent decision, as it allowed us to witness the spectacle of the Maeklong Railway Market in full operation. Here, a bustling market spreads directly over the train tracks—a concept that seems questionable until you see how efficiently it works. As the train approaches, vendors expertly fold away awnings and pull back their goods with remarkable calm. The train glides through at an almost conversational pace, and within seconds everything is restored as if nothing had happened. It is choreography of the highest order.

We continued on to the Amphawa floating market via songthaew—essentially a mobile experiment in how many passengers can be politely squeezed onto a vehicle—before returning to Bangkok for the entirely sensible activity of rooftop drinks.

 

18 March – Bangkok - Heat, Hesitation, and the Pre-Tattoo Pause 

We began the day with a group decision to do very little, which we executed with admirable dedication, resulting in a late breakfast at the Gecko Bar.

Micah, perhaps emboldened by travel, expressed a desire to get a tattoo. We made enquiries at Divine Ink regarding time and prices—because nothing says “thoughtful decision-making” like organising permanent body art in tropical heat.

Speaking of which, Bangkok had become impressively hot—less “warm climate” and more “walking into a hairdryer set to maximum.” After dim sum and a growing sense of lethargy, we sensibly retreated to the relative coolness of the guesthouse to recover until sunset.

 

19 March – Bangkok to Ayutthaya by Train - Bangkok to Ayutthaya - Ancient Glory, Modern Heat, and the Strategic Use of Air Conditioning 

The following day we set off for Ayutthaya by train—a mode of transport that is both charmingly traditional and faintly punishing. The carriage was hot, the seats firmly committed to the concept of discomfort, but the price was so reasonable it felt churlish to complain, so we did so only gently and amongst ourselves.

Arriving in Ayutthaya at midday, we were immediately reminded that Thailand takes its heat very seriously. A tuk-tuk was flagged down with the urgency of people who had briefly considered melting, and we made our way to Baan Lotus Guesthouse. The decision to upgrade to an air-conditioned room was made quickly and without debate—indeed, it may have been the most unanimous decision of the entire trip.

Later, we wandered to the UNESCO World Heritage Park, which, despite the heat, was undeniably impressive. Ayutthaya, we learned, had once been a thriving capital founded around 1350 and had grown into a bustling international trading hub of astonishing size—reportedly home to about a million people at its peak. This golden era came to a rather abrupt and unfortunate end in 1767 when the Burmese invaded and flattened most of it, demonstrating once again that history has very little interest in happy endings.

It was far too hot to do anything sensible, including photography, but we took a few pictures anyway out of sheer stubbornness, before retreating to our blissfully cool room, where we remained until the sun had the decency to disappear.

 

20 March – Ayutthaya to Kanchanaburi - Bridges, Barges, and Late Afternoon Survival Tactics 

A minivan collected us for the trip to Kanchanaburi, which took under three hours—an impressively smooth journey by regional standards.

We checked into Tamarind Guesthouse with a room floating on the River Kwai, because if one is going to visit somewhere famous, it seems only right to float on it. However, the heat once again asserted dominance, and we sensibly remained indoors until late afternoon.

At around five, we ventured out to the iconic bridge over the River Kwai—now something of a magnet for tourists, photographers, and anyone in possession of a camera phone. We joined the crowd, shuffled across the bridge in an orderly fashion, and paused often to admire the view and avoid bumping into fellow admirers doing exactly the same.

On the way back, we located a roadside eatery—arguably the most important discovery of the day—and settled in for food and beer, both of which were consumed with enthusiasm.

 

21–22 March – Kanchanaburi to Hua Hin - Stilts, Sea Air, and the Art of Doing Very Little, Very Well 

At last, we headed for the coast, which felt like a deeply sensible progression after several days of heat-based endurance tests.

A tuk-tuk delivered us to the bus terminal, and from there a minivan whisked us to Hua Hin in roughly three hours. Our accommodation was a charmingly precarious wooden guesthouse on stilts over the water, with enough personality to make up for any structural concerns.

Naturally, we wasted no time getting to the beach, where we spent the afternoon under a large umbrella—an invention that, under these conditions, deserves far more recognition than it typically receives.

Hua Hin proved so agreeable that we extended our stay by an extra day, a decision that required almost no discussion whatsoever.

 

23 March – Hua Hin to Koh Phangan - Sleepless Journeys and the Gentle Reward of the Ocean 

Checkout was at midday, but our bus wasn’t until 10 p.m., leaving us with a long and rather drowsy wait. Micah and I attempted to sleep with limited success, while Rouen demonstrated an admirable ability to drift off at intervals—something I regarded with a mixture of envy and suspicion.

We arrived in Surat Thani at around 8 a.m., at which point we were efficiently funnelled into a bus, then delivered to Don Sak pier for the ferry to Koh Phangan. Travel logistics in Thailand often resemble a relay race in which you are the baton.

By the time we arrived at the Tropicana Resort, we were deeply tired but somehow still capable of heading straight into the ocean—a decision that felt both restorative and faintly heroic.

 

24–29 March – Koh Phangan - Days of Drift, Dubious Fitness Ambitions, and Island Time Proper 

The days on Koh Phangan drifted by in a pleasantly unstructured fashion. We swam in the warm waters of the Gulf of Thailand, consumed generous portions of Thai food, and maintained a steady intake of cold beer.

Rouen and I made several noble but largely symbolic attempts at running, covering distances that could best be described as “encouraging starts.” Eventually, good sense prevailed, and Rouen rented a motorbike, taking Micah along to explore the island more thoroughly—and, presumably, at a slightly faster pace than our jogging efforts.

 

0 March – Koh Phangan to Bangkok - Ferries, Buses, and the Grand Relay of Getting Somewhere Else 

We checked out and wandered to the ferry port with enough time to eat, which, by now, had become something of a guiding principle for all travel planning.

The ferry to Surat Thani took about two and a half hours, after which we were ushered onto a bus, then into another transfer involving tuk-tuks and another bus station—all conducted with an efficiency that suggested someone, somewhere, knew exactly what was happening.

With time to spare, we explored the night market and sampled a wide variety of dishes, because it would have been irresponsible not to.

Eventually, we boarded the night bus to Bangkok—a journey that was long, uncomfortable, and just sufficiently memorable to ensure we would complain about it for at least a day afterwards.

 

31 March – Bangkok - Tattoos and the Return to Urban Chaos 

Back in Bangkok, we adopted a relaxed pace, as Micah had a tattoo appointment—an event approached with a mixture of excitement and the quiet realisation that tattoos are famously difficult to return if unsatisfactory.

Afterwards, we made our way to Pattaya for a few final days of leisure.

 

1–4 April – Pattaya - Pools, Beachfront Wandering, and a Noble Commitment to Refreshments

These final days were spent in a highly disciplined routine of swimming-pool lounging, beachfront strolls, and enthusiastic sampling of night-market offerings.

We consumed impressive quantities of smoothies, iced coffee, and—most notably—Chang beer, which seemed to appear whenever required and occasionally when not.

We did not achieve everything we had theoretically planned, but this felt entirely appropriate. Travel, after all, is often less about ticking boxes and more about enjoying the accidental moments in between.

All too soon, Micah and Rouen had to return to Cape Town. Their visit had been thoroughly enjoyable, and I could only hope it wouldn’t take another twelve years for the next one—although, given our collective talent for planning, it seemed wise not to make any firm assumptions.

 

 

Epilogue

In the end, as with all good journeys, the memories were far more coherent than the events themselves. We had travelled the length of Thailand by an assortment of vehicles of varying reliability, survived heroic temperatures, consumed admirable quantities of food and drink, and somehow returned each evening with stories—some accurate, others improved by retelling.

Plans had been made, naturally, but treated more as gentle suggestions than binding agreements. We missed things we intended to see, discovered things we hadn’t planned, and perfected the fine art of doing just enough each day to feel accomplished without ever becoming exhausted by it—except when absolutely unavoidable.

Most importantly, we laughed—a great deal, often at ourselves—and ended the trip in the firm belief that travel is less about precision and far more about patience, curiosity, and a willingness to accept that occasionally, the luggage (or indeed the plan) may simply go missing.

And should it take another twelve years to repeat the experience, one can only hope we are just as unprepared.