Fare thee well, Thailand
Hello once again, my friends, relatives and other correspondees.
Well, I've finally said my goodbyes to Thailand. I've left behind the land of Tuk-Tuks, Sang Som, Sawasdee and smiles, and am now in Cambodia. I'd probably have written sooner, but Ko Chang is another one of those places where internet is oh so much more expensive than it really ought to be.
Before that, of course, I was back in Bangkok, where I spent a couple of days shopping for supplies (there are more and better pharmacies etc in Bangkok, plus the farang-oriented tourist markets actually have sandals in my size) and watching football at a couple of the fake British or Irish pubs which infest the Sukhumvit area, where I was staying this time. One of these (the Londoner) was actually a brewpub as well, so I got the joys of a drinkable pint of bitter (which obviously put me in hog heaven).
That took care of the weekend, before on Monday I finally made the side-trip I'd been planning to Kanchanaburi. However, due to circumstances beyond my control (non-existent river express service in the morning, train delayed for public holiday in the afternoon), I didn't actually make either the trip there or back on the train as I'd planned to, instead getting rather better acquainted with Bangkok's southern bus terminal than I'd planned. Being Bangkok, this is naturally in the west of the city.
Whilst there, though, I looked around the Allied war cemetery and the Thai-Burma Railway Museum as, for those who haven't gathered it already, Kanchanaburi is the site of the famous Bridge on the River Kwai, part of the WWII Thai-Burma Rail Link, better known to the world as the Death Railway. Something like 16,000 Allied PoWs (mostly British, Dutch and Australian) died in making the railway, but it was only with this visit that I became properly aware that well over 50,000 Asians, mostly indentured workers (ie pretty much slaves), also died in its construction. Nobody actually knows the precise numbers, though, since the Japanese didn't bother keeping records of how many died (as they were forced to for PoWs by the Geneva Conventions).
Lightening the mood somewhat, though, was the discovery that the Bridge on the River Kwai wasn't actually on the River Kwai (or Khwae, as it's usually spelt in Thailand). The guy who wrote the book didn't realise this, but it actually ran for a long way alongside the Khwae, but the bridge in question crossed the River Khung. This wasn't an issue until the film became so successful and tourists wanted to see it. At this point, the Thais then had a problem - how to deal with this without confusing all the poor farang visitors. In true Thai style, they decided that the easy way around this was just to rename the river - so that section of the Khung was renamed the Mae Nam Khwae Yai (or Big Kwai River), meaning that the bridge now did indeed cross over a river Kwai.
So now the tourists can scramble all over the railway bridge there, getting out of the way whenever one of the occasional trains comes along (this isn't quite as daft as it sounds, given that there is a 10km/h speed limit over the bridge). Which many of them were doing. I didn't go all the way across, but did have a bit of a wander out on the bridge. It being a public holiday, there was a little tourist train running across the bridge, which was why the scheduled train was so late that I eventually decided to go get another bus.
On arrival back into Bangkok, later than I'd expected, I then faced the challenge of getting over to Khao San Rd, where I was due to meet up with Elin, the Swedish girl with whom I had had a slightly surreal drinking session my previous time in Thailand's crazy capital. Unfortunately, the bus station was mostly populated by taxi-drivers of the more mercenary persuasion, most of whom refused to turn on the meter and kept trying to get me to pay 250 Baht or more for a quick trip of a few km across the river. After about 10 minutes, though, I finally found a guy who was happy to do his job properly and use the meter (which meant the trip cost me 60 Baht, as it should), and hence was only about 15 minutes late.
Luckily, Elin hadn't upped and left, so I had my planned reunion, which ended up turning into another impromptu drinking session courtesy of friends Elin had made, namely two Irish girls she'd met in Bangkok and two German girls who'd been on her dive course on Ko Tao. Obviously, I was deeply distressed to have to go out drinking with five young ladies, so it wasn't any real surprise that I didn't make it onto the bus I had planned to get the next morning, and ended up staying an extra day in BKK. It also wasn't any particular surprise that I didn't drink at all on Tuesday night.
On Wednesday, though, I did make it to my bus (the Eastern bus station being luckily only a few Skytrain stops from my hostel, saving me any more taxi-related grief), and headed down to the little port of Laem Ngop, where I caught the ferry over to Ko Chang. There, I decided to sod being different, and caught the sawngthaew down to the island's main backpacker community of Lonely Beach. Though, as locals and guidebooks point out incessantly, it's not particularly lonely these days - Ko Chang is having something of a tourist boom at the moment, so there are guesthouses everywhere.
At any rate, I had a pleasant couple of days down on the island, split between lazing on the beach reading books, eating and drinking good food at a restaurant/bar and guesthouse called the TreeHouse and (on Friday) taking a snorkelling trip out to some of the other islands just south of Ko Chang. And, once again in typical style, I ended up on a big night out, having met some fun people, the night before I needed to leave. Such that my travels on Saturday, back to the mainland and over the border into Cambodia, were not as comfortable as they might have been. That night, I stayed in the little town of Ko Kong, where I ended up eating and sampling Cambodian beer in a little ex-pat bar called Bob's, where I met an assortment of the local characters, led by Bob himself, a garrulous old Aussie, and including Percy (a 73-year-old, foul-mouthed old merchant sailor from England, with a collection of anecdotes that would make your toes curl). Astonishingly, the fish there was Barramundi, which I had hitherto believed indigenous to Australia, but apparently they grow in the rivers here as well.
Then today I have caught the boat down the coast to Sihanoukville, Cambodia's main port and beach resort, where I have acquainted myself with the joys of being transported, along with my pack and daypack, on the back of a motorbike, and vegged out by the sea. So another couple of days' beach-time beckon, with a brief interlude tomorrow where I need to pop into town and get my Vietnamese visa.
And that's the lot for the moment. Apologies this has turned into one of my epic compositions. Hope you are all well, wherever you are!
Take care and have fun,
Pat
Well, I've finally said my goodbyes to Thailand. I've left behind the land of Tuk-Tuks, Sang Som, Sawasdee and smiles, and am now in Cambodia. I'd probably have written sooner, but Ko Chang is another one of those places where internet is oh so much more expensive than it really ought to be.
Before that, of course, I was back in Bangkok, where I spent a couple of days shopping for supplies (there are more and better pharmacies etc in Bangkok, plus the farang-oriented tourist markets actually have sandals in my size) and watching football at a couple of the fake British or Irish pubs which infest the Sukhumvit area, where I was staying this time. One of these (the Londoner) was actually a brewpub as well, so I got the joys of a drinkable pint of bitter (which obviously put me in hog heaven).
That took care of the weekend, before on Monday I finally made the side-trip I'd been planning to Kanchanaburi. However, due to circumstances beyond my control (non-existent river express service in the morning, train delayed for public holiday in the afternoon), I didn't actually make either the trip there or back on the train as I'd planned to, instead getting rather better acquainted with Bangkok's southern bus terminal than I'd planned. Being Bangkok, this is naturally in the west of the city.
Whilst there, though, I looked around the Allied war cemetery and the Thai-Burma Railway Museum as, for those who haven't gathered it already, Kanchanaburi is the site of the famous Bridge on the River Kwai, part of the WWII Thai-Burma Rail Link, better known to the world as the Death Railway. Something like 16,000 Allied PoWs (mostly British, Dutch and Australian) died in making the railway, but it was only with this visit that I became properly aware that well over 50,000 Asians, mostly indentured workers (ie pretty much slaves), also died in its construction. Nobody actually knows the precise numbers, though, since the Japanese didn't bother keeping records of how many died (as they were forced to for PoWs by the Geneva Conventions).
Lightening the mood somewhat, though, was the discovery that the Bridge on the River Kwai wasn't actually on the River Kwai (or Khwae, as it's usually spelt in Thailand). The guy who wrote the book didn't realise this, but it actually ran for a long way alongside the Khwae, but the bridge in question crossed the River Khung. This wasn't an issue until the film became so successful and tourists wanted to see it. At this point, the Thais then had a problem - how to deal with this without confusing all the poor farang visitors. In true Thai style, they decided that the easy way around this was just to rename the river - so that section of the Khung was renamed the Mae Nam Khwae Yai (or Big Kwai River), meaning that the bridge now did indeed cross over a river Kwai.
So now the tourists can scramble all over the railway bridge there, getting out of the way whenever one of the occasional trains comes along (this isn't quite as daft as it sounds, given that there is a 10km/h speed limit over the bridge). Which many of them were doing. I didn't go all the way across, but did have a bit of a wander out on the bridge. It being a public holiday, there was a little tourist train running across the bridge, which was why the scheduled train was so late that I eventually decided to go get another bus.
On arrival back into Bangkok, later than I'd expected, I then faced the challenge of getting over to Khao San Rd, where I was due to meet up with Elin, the Swedish girl with whom I had had a slightly surreal drinking session my previous time in Thailand's crazy capital. Unfortunately, the bus station was mostly populated by taxi-drivers of the more mercenary persuasion, most of whom refused to turn on the meter and kept trying to get me to pay 250 Baht or more for a quick trip of a few km across the river. After about 10 minutes, though, I finally found a guy who was happy to do his job properly and use the meter (which meant the trip cost me 60 Baht, as it should), and hence was only about 15 minutes late.
Luckily, Elin hadn't upped and left, so I had my planned reunion, which ended up turning into another impromptu drinking session courtesy of friends Elin had made, namely two Irish girls she'd met in Bangkok and two German girls who'd been on her dive course on Ko Tao. Obviously, I was deeply distressed to have to go out drinking with five young ladies, so it wasn't any real surprise that I didn't make it onto the bus I had planned to get the next morning, and ended up staying an extra day in BKK. It also wasn't any particular surprise that I didn't drink at all on Tuesday night.
On Wednesday, though, I did make it to my bus (the Eastern bus station being luckily only a few Skytrain stops from my hostel, saving me any more taxi-related grief), and headed down to the little port of Laem Ngop, where I caught the ferry over to Ko Chang. There, I decided to sod being different, and caught the sawngthaew down to the island's main backpacker community of Lonely Beach. Though, as locals and guidebooks point out incessantly, it's not particularly lonely these days - Ko Chang is having something of a tourist boom at the moment, so there are guesthouses everywhere.
At any rate, I had a pleasant couple of days down on the island, split between lazing on the beach reading books, eating and drinking good food at a restaurant/bar and guesthouse called the TreeHouse and (on Friday) taking a snorkelling trip out to some of the other islands just south of Ko Chang. And, once again in typical style, I ended up on a big night out, having met some fun people, the night before I needed to leave. Such that my travels on Saturday, back to the mainland and over the border into Cambodia, were not as comfortable as they might have been. That night, I stayed in the little town of Ko Kong, where I ended up eating and sampling Cambodian beer in a little ex-pat bar called Bob's, where I met an assortment of the local characters, led by Bob himself, a garrulous old Aussie, and including Percy (a 73-year-old, foul-mouthed old merchant sailor from England, with a collection of anecdotes that would make your toes curl). Astonishingly, the fish there was Barramundi, which I had hitherto believed indigenous to Australia, but apparently they grow in the rivers here as well.
Then today I have caught the boat down the coast to Sihanoukville, Cambodia's main port and beach resort, where I have acquainted myself with the joys of being transported, along with my pack and daypack, on the back of a motorbike, and vegged out by the sea. So another couple of days' beach-time beckon, with a brief interlude tomorrow where I need to pop into town and get my Vietnamese visa.
And that's the lot for the moment. Apologies this has turned into one of my epic compositions. Hope you are all well, wherever you are!
Take care and have fun,
Pat
posted by Pat at 8:52 am
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