Thailand Redux

Thailand:  It ain't all lotus blossoms.

Folks who travel to Thailand will tell you amazing stories about the "Land of Smiles."  Most of these tales will be true.  Even some of my blog posts about Thailand are true.  What is also true about Thailand is that it is a real country and, as such, has real problems.  If you have read any of my former blog posts about traveling in Southeast Asia, you will know that I love it here.  The journey I have just returned from marks my fifth trek across various combinations of Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam.  While Thailand remains one of my favorite destinations on our planet, I thought it would be a good idea to write about some of the less than wonderful aspects of being in Thailand.  So, in no particular order, let's get down to it.

While it may not be overtly apparent to a casual traveler, Thailand is not a democracy.  Ostensibly a constitutional monarchy, Thailand has been ruled primarily by a series of military strong men since the end of World War II.  Until 1932, Thailand was an absolute monarchy.  The monarchy was overthrown in an almost bloodless coup brought about by a group of civilians and military officers.  A constitutional monarchy was established in place of the absolute monarchy.  Since that time Thailand has been ruled by a series of military leaders with the exception of brief periods of democratically elected governments.  There have been seventeen constitutions, the last one being established in 2007.  His Majesty Bhumibol Adulyadej was the King of Thailand until his death this month.  While the King exerted some moderating influence over the military leaders, the juntas remain the true power in the kingdom.  The current ruling group is the National Counsel for Peace and Order.  As a ruling power, they have partially repealed portions of the 2007 constitution.  

What does all of this have to do with a traveler to Thailand?  The answer to that depends on where one goes in the kingdom.  Years ago, I was in Bangkok during the Yellow Shirt-Red Shirt upheaval.  I visited the protest encampments, talked with lots of folks, and I had no issues with anyone including the police.  I would not recommend overt involvement in Thai politics, but as an observer I was not molested in any way.  Quite the contrary, I was welcomed at the encampments in true Thai fashion.  Still, it is important to remember who is running the country.

Thailand is a huge tourist destination and the Thai authorities are not going to do anything to jeopardize the very lucrative flow of tourist dollars that make up a large percentage of the Thai economy.  Having said that, the next year might not be the best time to visit the kingdom.  The government has ordered a one-year period of mourning for the King.  Public celebrations, parties, and consumption of alcohol are to be "toned down."  This month's notorious Full-Moon party was cancelled as part of the mourning observances.

But back to the government and how it might impact a traveler.  If you are in Bangkok, it will be very difficult to notice any strongly overt military or police presence, especially if you have not been in the city prior.  The same will generally remain true if a traveler stays on the tried and true tourist trails that lead to the islands of the Andaman Sea or the cultural tourist mecca of Chiang Mai.  Venture out into the Thai countryside or less-traveled provincial cities, however, and the story may be different.  As we traveled deeper into Isaan, the northeastern region of Thailand, we were more often the only Farrang (foreigners) in sight.  The police, or military police, frequently asked us for our tickets and questioned us about our destination.  While we were treated with great respect during these encounters, this has not been my experience in the past.  Still, this is Thailand.  After taking our photos as part of the track-side "interview," we were then politely asked if we would pose for a group photo with the two police officers.  

Another issue to consider is whether or not one wants to travel in a country that is under military rule.  That would be a matter of personal conscience.  As a traveler, I tend to discount governments in favor of a particular country's citizens.  In this regard, Thailand is a very rich place indeed.  If one were to strike all countries with dubious governments off of one's travel list, the world would be a much smaller place.  I would venture to add that even nations that are held up as beacons of democracy might not stand up well to the scrutiny of a traveler with a serious human-rights sensibility.  So I leave this choice to the individual.

One of the things that I love about Thailand is the crazy street scene that springs up every evening in almost any town.  One of the things that drives me crazy about Thailand is banging my head or risking a broken leg every time I go for a walk into that crazy scene.  First of all, Thai folks are not tall.  Awnings, food cart signs, street signs, and random pointy bits are all of just the right height to catch a six-foot Farrang a good whop on the noggin.  One minute you are walking down the street looking at the next great food treat and the next minute the Thais are laughing as the big foreigner

 is rubbing his head after banging it on some low-hanging hazard.  While you are looking out for things threatening your brain pan, it will be a sure thing that you will miss the multitudinous hazards at your feet.  Broken pavement, open drains, gaping holes in the sidewalk (really!) and noxious puddles of ick all conspire to trip, soil, or maim an unwary walker's feet.  And remember, you are wearing flip-flops.  Not exactly serious toe armor.  One gets used to it, but when you bang your head or bruise your toes (or worse), don't say I didn't warn you.

Another aspect of the obstacle course is Thais on scooters.  While they will not run you over, as a rule, they will form a phalanx of plastic and steel right in front of the very stand from which you wish to purchase a delectable treat.  The Thais don't really walk.  They ride scooters, ride them right up to the stands and stores.  Transactions are carried out without the scooter pilots even dismounting.  The added annoyance of the scooter traffic in the heart of the markets and street scene is the heavy layer of scooter exhaust that hangs in the air. 

Speaking of the markets, one of the curses of Thailand is the culture of the plastic bag.  Everything one buys seems to come in a plastic bag.  Just try buying a bottle of water and declining the plastic bag that the clerk is sure to place it in.  It is very perplexing to the clerk.  The same is true in the market stalls.  Buy some pork skewers, for example.  The skewers go into a small plastic bag and then the chili sauce is spooned over them.  The vendor then puts the first plastic bag into a second plastic bag.  Eventually plastic bottles and plastic bags are going to cover the Kingdom.  You can do your small part to help.  Water stations are available to fill bottles.  Try to use them instead of buying a new bottle of water.  Backpacker-style water filters allow for filling your own bottle using tap water.  Save money, save the Thais from themselves, even in a tiny way.

Quiet sleep.  This is not what you are generally going to get in Thailand.  Not in the city, not in the countryside.  Geckos, Tokays, Hoo-Ha Birds, traffic, roosters (oh, the goddamn roosters!) all conspire to make sure that a traveler is up bright and early after a very noisy night of not sleeping that well.  Bring earplugs.  You will thank me.  

Speaking of sleeping, be forewarned that Thai beds are generally on the firm to rock-hard end of the spectrum.  And the pillows can tend to be giant.  It takes some getting used to.

Thai food is great.  The food is one of the main reasons I return to Thailand.  Even with my immense tolerance for noodles, twice a day if I can get them, there will come a day on a journey when a traveler just cannot look at another bowl of rice or noodles.  It's okay, but remember that tourist food is the most dangerous food.  Try going for a nice Halal or Indian meal to break up the steady diet of Thai dishes.  Pizza and hamburgers:  Danger Young Will Robinson!!

Although coffee is slowly becoming more of a part of Thai culture, it can still be a real pain to get a decent cuppa joe.   If you are a serious coffee drinker, beware.  Even more difficult is to get a cup of coffee without sugar.  Thai folks love sugar.  They will be very puzzled when you are displeased that they have politely pre-sugared your coffee for you.  

Toilets.  Yes, squat toilets are the norm in most of rural Thailand.  Your guesthouse or hotel will have a western-style toilet.  Lots of other places will not.  Mind where your loose clothing is.  The plastic bowl floating in the bigger tank is the flushing device.  You'll figure it out.  Besides, the New-Age folks will be happy to tell you that squatting is a much healthier posture for taking care of business.

On the topic of hygiene, feet are a big deal in Thailand.  The head is clean, feet are not.  You will get used to it, but one must remove their footwear before going into private dwellings or temples.  Please, if you are traveling in the Kingdom, here are a few things that you just should NOT do.  Do not point your feet at a Buddha image.  Do not touch Thai folks with your feet.  And Yo! Backpackers!  Do NOT tie your boots on the outside of your backpack and then bang them into Thai folks on trains and buses.  This is very, very rude by Thai standards!  Every guidebook out there talks about this.  Stop it already!  

So your feet, they are going to be dirty.  Get used to it.  It is way too hot for shoes anyway.

Thailand is a huge tourist destination.  If you really want to find that quiet spot or that secluded beach, you are going to have to work for it.  November, December and January bring hordes of tourists and travelers to the Kingdom.  If you venture to a popular tourist spot during these times, expect the prices to be at their highest, the Thais smiles to be strained, and any attraction to be swarmed.  Tour groups following their leader's little flag will run right over you.  Work a little harder, travel a little farther, stretch your openness to the off-season, however, and those quiet beaches or uncrowded ruins can become a reality.  

If you have never been to Thailand, I would urge you to go.  I would also suggest that perhaps 2017 might not be the best year to do so.  Everything is not perfect in the Kingdom of Smiles, but push the edges of the tourist trail and you will most likely find great rewards.  I will warn you that the riches of Thailand may come at a price.  This is the sort of place that can steal a piece of your heart and not give it back.  Thailand, warts and all, is still a worthy destination for an open-minded traveler.

Paying the Piper

Those left behind.  Saying goodbye to an pair of old friends.

Four years, four continents, the odd sub-continent.  Faithful to the end.

There comes a time to pay the Piper and our time has come.  We had drawn the 8:35 PM flight out of Bangkok, which would seem like a good departure hour.  It is not.  Arriving at Suvarnabhumi two hours ahead of time is not only a good idea, it can end up being just enough time to make an international flight.  That means arriving at Suvarnabhumi at 6:30 PM, the insane curve of rush hour in Bangkok.  There will be more to write on that.

With a whole day to kill, we made arrangements for a late checkout and then basically lolled around.  I sat on the terrace and smoked whilst My One dozed under the breeze of the fan.  We had no desire for anything more.  We discussed the most pressing conundrum:  how to get to the airport.  From the secret lair, there is public transport directly to the airport.  Public transport at rush hour, however, is no place to be with a full complement of bags.  I was packed far heavier than normal with the stuff I was schlepping from the US.  Lots of stupid luggage, just the kind I always advise against.  An aircon taxi to the airport is the easy way to get there.  The problem is, will you get there?  It is reasonable to assume that one will eventually arrive at the airport, but between 3 PM and 7 PM it is not reasonable to expect a taxi ride to take less than say, two hours.  Or maybe three.  Or maybe one.  Those horror stories you may have heard about Bangkok traffic, they are true.  The choice was thus:  Rush Hour on the MRT and Airport Train, wrestling with bags and turning into a ball of sweaty dough -- or -- an aircon taxi ride of dubious and uncertain length.  We finally opted for braving the trains, a route we know well.  

People often ask "How do you do the long flights?  I would love to go to Bradslavoktransia but I just can't do those 12 hour flights."  The only answer I have for this is to say that the flights are the price of admission to the bigger world out there.  And, yes, the flights mostly suck.  I try to make a game out of the whole thing, but it is difficult to do more than shift the brain into neutral, try to be empty-headed and/or entertained in some way, and just get through it.  What I have discovered is that my break line is ten hours.  A ten hour flight from Europe to the USA is a piece of cake, relatively speaking.  Movies, sleep, airline food, repeat.  Past ten hours, the body starts to rebel.

The easy train ride.  It got so bad I could not get my camera out of my pocket.

Four-thirty PM and off we went, out of the tiny Soi and down into the MRT.  We were departing four hours prior to our flight departure.  It would prove to be just enough time to accomplish the mission without undue stress.  The MRT ends at Hua Lampang so we were able to get decent positions near the doors of the train.  By the time we got to Petchaburi station, the train was packed cheek-to-jowl.  Even wielding a duffel bag, back pack and large carry-on, the Thai people are pretty gracious, rush hour notwithstanding.  With a bit of help from our fellow passengers, we found ourselves deposited on the platform, all bags still with us.  Okay, slow and steady, it is time for the non-aircon slog up and out of Petchaburi and across the 300 meter pedestrian bridge to the Airport Train.  This is Bankok and it is hot.  Haste is a silly and foreign concept.  Steady on, we made it to the Masakan station and took our place at the end of a longish line for boarding the next train.   Packed, the train arrived packed.  Defying the basic laws of physics, the line of passengers scooted, squished and squashed their way onto the train, ourselves included, though only just.  I wedged my bags against a pole and did a precarious balancing act against them.  Somehow, it works.  The train stops and it is so packed that people cannot move, yet they find a way to make it off the train and do so in a polite manner.  The train disgorged more and more people as we rode further out of Bangkok, easing the burden inside.  We finally arrived at the airport station and disembarked.  Loading our bags onto the free luggage carts (FREE!  FREE!  Are any of you SeaTac Airport Officials reading this?!?!?!  The carts are FREE!!! ) was a most welcome relief.  

I stowed my pack into the big checked bag, mourning the state of my good suit that was now a ball of wrinkles, and we set out for baggage drop.   We rode up the ramped escalators that allow a traveler to wheel his or her FREE CART (They go up the escalators you SeaTac Ninnies!!!  It is possible, you see??) from the bottom floor of the airport way up to the departure deck.  And there things sort of stopped.

Yikes, the baggage drop and check-in line.

Okay, dead stop.  The line for Etihad Air was, well, huge.  I stood on queue while My Baby got us some snacks.  She stood on queue while I went shopping at the Booths Pharmacy.  The line crept along.  So it goes.  Eventually we were free of bags, checked in on both flights, and left the queue with boarding passes in hand.  Then it was security, passport control, and the long moving walkways through the massive terminals of Suvarabhumi International.  Finally sitting down to a quick aiport meal that cost us more than some of the bungalows we enjoyed on this trip, we realized we had one-half hour until boarding.  So there it is, four hours lead time and none wasted.  

From here on, routine takes over.  It's the Zombie shuffle onto the plane, find the seats, sit down and wait.  Six hours to Abu Dhabi and six hours to Vienna.  Movies, airplane food, dozing, repeat.  Abu Dhabi is a strange place judging from the airport.  Cramped and packed, this has become a major hub for international flights.  We toyed with the idea of hopping a flight to somewhere else, anywhere else.  There was almost no place we could not go from here.  But no, we must return to cold and grey Yurp.  

Purgatory, otherwise know as Abu Dhabi.

And then we were airborne again.  No movies on this smaller Airbus, so it was food, dozing, keep the mind sifted into neutral.  The time passes, you pay the Piper.  It is always harder on the return flight.  Tray tables up, seats in their upright position, it is just dawn over Vienna as the lights come under the wing.  And then we are back.  The good folks at the Austrian passport control deign to allow me back into the country, our bags are actually the first ones down the chute, and it is over.

They have this thing in Vienna called "cold" which takes some getting used to.  Here is how I recover from a long flight.  Chose what works for you, this is my method.

Two months of traveling has come to an end.  We are home, back in our apartment, our oasis.  A familiar bed, familiar surroundings, those small blessings of returning.  I know that I have balance when I am eager to leave and, at the end of the journey, thankful to be home.  The scales of leaving and returning are very delicate, tipping at the slightest variation.  I cannot claim that there is no danger in the initial setting out.  I will be the first to tell you to go, to leave the familiar and venture forth into the world.  At the same time, it is important to know that the returns are not without cost.  Travel can bring about many, many changes.  One of the most insidious changes is that prolonged travel may unravel the mooring lines to one's home.  The unfamiliar becomes the familiar and vice versa.  Distinctions blur between that which is known and that which is unknown.  The urge to set out once again burrows deeply into the heart and will not be dislodged.  I urge you to recall the words of J.R.R. Tolkien as spoken by Bilbo Baggins:  "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door.  You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to." 

And so, Friends and Neighbors, the journey is done.  Travel well, travel often, be kind when you do so, and maintain an open heart.  The world will reward you handsomely.  As always, I bid you Ciao for Now!!

The Big Mango Redux

A trackside interview by the local school kids.  "What is your favorite food?"

Time has run out on this journey. Under yet another blazing sun (remember that sun, My Lad, you will regret its passing) we set on on yet another train, the last short ride into Bangkok.

The views of a watery countryside were replaced by the gritty entry into Bangkok.  A huge sprawling city, to enter Bangkok by train is to see its seamy side, the shanty towns and riverside hovels.  Bangkok is a massive collection of neighborhoods and not all of them are the Palace and the Reclining Buddha.  Taking the train in from the north is a very good way to see another aspect of this city.  Along the freeway construction site are the workers quarters made of corrugated roofing without windows.  There are whole neighborhoods of shacks on stilts leaning chock-a-block against each other.  Wooden duck boards take the place of sidewalks.  Dark and dirty water swirls along next to, under, and through these living areas.   It is another world, separated altogether from the groomed grounds of the main temples that are the big tourist destinations.  

 The "other" Bangkok from the train window.

Welcome to the neighborhood.
 

Crossing the Klong into the heart of Bangkok.

The Royal Station draped in mourning.

Crossing the Klong, the shanty towns are replaced by administration buildings draped in mourning for the King.  The concrete gives way to vast green garden tracts as we enter the government district.  The royal train station is a very pretty and seldom used spot on the main line.  Today it was somber, laid out in the black and white of mourning.  Many people on the train were wearing black ribbons on their shoulders or breast pockets.  Reaching Hua Lamphong station at last, we saw crowds of people sitting everywhere.  The waiting area was full of Thai people, crowds of a size I have never seen there before.  The queues of people for public transport were so long that the police were directing the line.  People had come from all over the country to pay their respects to the King.  We had returned to Bangkok as it became a city in mourning.  

It is a short walk from Hua Lamphong to the secret guesthouse.  Down into the metro and up the other side avoids the death-crossing of Rama V.  Back up on the sidewalk, a few quick twists and turns leads us to my hideaway.  The soi (alley) has fallen on hard times of late.  It was a busy and happier place in years gone by, but perhaps it is just the season.  Still, it is my refuge in this busy city.

My One had a single request:  Indian Food.  It happens on journeys.  Suddenly Thai food, or Sri Lankan food, or Vietnamese cuisine is simply the last thing one wants to eat.  Last night in Bangkok, what do you do?  You find your Heart some Indian food.  

Our Guy in Bangkok for Indian Food.  Okay, Bangladeshi food to be more precise.  

We set out on foot for a small neighborhood near Silom, a Muslim enclave tucked against the overhead expressway.  Here was a place to find Indian and Halal food.  It is dark and hot along the sidewalks of the city.  Rush hour traffic creates a solid mass of steel on the streets.  We slid past sidewalk stalls and diners, dogs and low hanging signs.  Another night walk in The Big Mango.  Then there was the small soi (alley) that turned right off the main street.  This was our spot.  Peering down the lane, many a traveler would turn away quickly and beat feet for the bright lights of Silom.  Muted light spilled from windows and fell across the sidewalk.  Small signs hung over shops and cafes'.  The lane died out at the pillars of the expressway, which rumbled overhead.  Some shadowy folks stood here and there, talking in groups.  It was as if one had looked into the Hollywood cliche' of the "Street You Do Not Walk Down."  But hey, this is Bangkok.  In we went.

"Oh, no, so sorry, but we are closed tonight."  Our would-have-been-hostess was a broad as she was tall, which she wasn't, and with a smile even broader.  Taking us in tow, she led us several doors down to another tiny cafe'.  Calling through the door, she ushered us in.  We were greeted and seated, the only customers in the place.  A smiling discussion was a prelude for a tour of the kitchen and introductions to the staff, all young men.  This was our spot for the night.

 First up, Daal with Chapati and Naan.  It was a holiday from rice.

The next course was a Beef masala which packed a long slow burn.  Wonderful!!
 

 Yummy bready goodness, such a nice change under the teeth.

And no meal complete without cardamom laced milk tea.  Eating and laughing, we planned a trip to Bangladesh, encouraged by our host.  Local men came in for take-out orders, but we remained the only seated customers.  Everyone else was somehow related to the operation.  It was a great evening and a great meal.

Back through the labyrinth of Bangkok to our secret soi, but not to fear, for this is Mi Barrio.  Our last night in the city.  Every smell and sound seemed amplified with longing.  The leaving weighs heavy on our hearts as it always does, and heavier with each leaving.  I have a compatriot who talks about not having any "leavings" left in himself.  He fears that one more trip to Thailand will cut through his last moorings.  Not Bangkok, as much as I love this place.  I could never live here.  That is not the danger my compatriot talks about, or that My Heart knows.  But Isaan, or Soppong in the north?  Yes, those places could be the undoing of a traveler.  

For now we are safe from these dangers, if not from these longings.  We must board the plane and fly back to grey and cold Vienna.  So it goes, another journey done.  There will be a bit more to say about this last month, but not now Friends and Neighbors.  I bid you a melancholy Ciao for Now!

Monkey Business

Welcome to Monkey Town.

Unlike the groomed grounds of Sukhothai, Ayutthaya, or Chiang Mai, the old town of Lopburi is built right on top of and up against the ruins of building that date back to the 11th Century.  Noodle stands and shop-houses butt up against Khmer Empire ruins or later remnants of the Ayutthaya regime.  This gritty little town is not picturesque.  The old city of Lopburi is, for most travelers, a photo-op.  Hop off of the northbound train, snap a few pictures of the monkeys, make it back onto the next train and head for the big attractions at Sukhothai.  Oh, yeah, did I mention the monkeys?

Lopburi ain't called Monkey Town for no good reason.  The little furry buggers are everywhere.  Local legend has it that the monkeys are here because of Rama.  It all goes back to that great Hindu epic, The Ramayana.  As I am sure you remember, Rama's great love, Sita, is kidnapped by the bad guy named Ravana.  Ravana runs off with Sita to an island that is probably modern day Sri Lanka.  In the very long and incredibly epic battles that follow, the monkey god Hanuman aids Rama in recovering Sita.  As a reward for his help, Rama gives the Hanuman the city of Lopburi.  That is one possible explanation for the monkey population.  Another plausible explanation for the simian hordes is that the monkeys are fed, twice daily, at several of the ancient Wats.  

 

 Essential Monkey Gear.

The monkeys don't just hang around the temple grounds.  They dangle from overhead electrical wires, ledges of buildings, and awnings over shops.  In fact, when walking the town, it's a good idea to keep one eye up and one eye down.  Monkeys and monkey poo adorn the sidewalk while overhead, the aerial monkeys love a good target.  The local shopkeepers have monkey poles, six-foot long bamboo staves with rubber flails on one end.  When the furry beasts get too bold, the merchants chase them down the sidewalks.  The only thing more fun than watching the shopkeepers is watching a tourist run screaming from the monkeys.  The Macaques, as the monkeys are more properly named, have a comfort radius that varies with their mood.  A camera-wielding tourist who trespasses into that comfort zone may experience the instantaneous transformation of a cute furry photo-op into a fanged and furious demon.  Then comes the running and screaming, the dropping of cameras, and a smug looking monkey hauling a shiny new Canon G-16 back to the monkey family.  On my honor as a Homo Sapiens, I have seen it happen.  I love this town!!

One of the coolest and strangest ruins in Lopburi, or the rest of Thailand for that matter, is Ban Wichayen.  Back in the late 1600's, the Ayutthaya Kingdom was at it's zenith.  A Greek trader, one Constantine Phaulkon, became a favorite of King Narai.  Phaulkon was eventually promoted to high office at the court of Siam.  When the King fell ill, however, Phaulkon lost his head to some jealous Siamese ministers.  Literally lost his head, as in they chopped it off.  To wander the ground of Ban Wichayen is to be transported from Thailand to a medieval ruin in northern England or France.  Except for the heat, there is nothing to remind one of exotic tropical locales.  Before Phaulkon lost a foot off the top, Ban Wichayen served as a residence for foreign traders and the occasional dignitary.  I marvel at what it must have been like to be a European trader dealing with a Siamese kingdom in 1680.  Just the effort it would have taken to travel here boggles the mind.  I am really, really jealous.  

Dipping nets on the river.  Drop them on the bottom, have a nap, raise them up.

When one tires of monkeys (yes, it can happen) or ruins, there are the small lanes that lead outside the crumbled city walls to the river.  The quiet streets and alleys are lined with old teak shop houses baking in the sun.  Before the rise of the modern concrete shop-house, these old teak buildings were the standard structure for most Thai businesses and dwellings.  

 

Phra Prang Sam Yod, the City Icon.  Try saying that name three times in a row.  This ancient Khmer-style (Angkor Period) building was originally a Hindu temple until the Ayutthaya kingdom turned it to Buddhist uses.  This place is monkey-central.  The monkeys are not allowed inside the ruin, but visitors are.  This offers a traveler the strange vantage point of looking out through the bars at the monkeys, rather than the other way round.

Inside Looking Out

Here is a link to a video from inside the temple (Warning:  There is a bit of Monkey Porn in the video):

https://youtu.be/X9McReupu8U

Yeah, you want monkeys?  They got monkeys.

The coolest guys in Lopburi, the ice crew and their custom ice cruncher-upper.

The Nett Hotel.  You don't really want to stay here.

Lopburi does have ruins and it does have monkeys, but other than that, this is not the most luxurious of destinations.  The accommodations are basic at best, even by my standards.  The town is dirty and gritty (hello, monkeys running everywhere!?!) and it doesn't smell very nice (see previous parenthetical comment) so why go?  More to the point, why return?  I don't have a great answer to that question except to say that something about Lopburi pulls me back.  It's a silly place, weird and quirky, unlike any other town in Thailand.  I suppose what I like most about Monkey Town is that the folks here live right up against the history of the ruins and right amongst the damn monkeys and they act like none of it is any big deal.  Ruins?  What ruins?  Monkeys?  What Monkeys?  Something like that.  I don't have a better explanation.  

 

So, that's it, no further insight available.  Sorry, that's all I've got.  I just like it here, furry thieving bastards included.  Later on today it will be the afternoon train to the Big Mango, closing the loop on this incredible journey.  Our time comes to an end.  Travel well, travel often, be well, be happy, and Ciao for Now!

Towards Sillliness

 

The strange "Frog Tuk-tuk" style of Sukhothai, Pitsuanlok and Ayuttaya.

It was time to leave Sukhothai, with all of it's cultural marvels, and move to the silliness of Lopburi, better known as Monkey Town.  Lopburi is close to Bangkok, a natural distance to break up the longish trek from Sukhothai all the way to the Big Mango.  Plus, we had one more night, that precious last night.

The hand painted signs meant to discourage walkers.  I suspect the Tuk-tuk cabal.

It was a blazing hot day on the plains of Sukhothai.  We bade farewell to our best bungalow of the trip and trundled the backpacks towards the secret trail to the bus terminal.  Hot, really hot. 

The secret trail.  The hot sun has baked away the mud (Duc) and the swimming pool is on the left.

The bus lottery yielded up a rattly old local for the run back to Pitsuanlok.  The driver was bent on something important and wasted no time.  We rumbled and careened the 60 kilometers to the bigger city and our return to the Thailand Railways.  From the bus terminal in Pitsuanlok it was a tuk-tuk to the train station.

The Gold "VIP" tuk-tuk of Pitsuanlok.

We were back on the Thailand train lines and soon to close a very large loop between the Northeastern Line and the Northern Line.  On our way into Isaan we traveled the entire length of the Northeastern Line to the terminus at Ubon Ratchasima.  From there we looped along the Mekong and across the north of Isaan to emerge on the north-central plains of the country.  Today we would head south on the Northern Line to intersect the Northeastern Line near Ayuttaya.  

Second class to Lopburi.  There is no telling what sort of train carriage a traveler will draw.  This was second class, with huge leg room and no aircon.  A steel box rolling across an open plain in 95 degree heat gets toasty, open windows or not.

Folks often ask "What does it cost to travel in Thailand?"  Okay, here's a primer.  

Walk to the station:         0 Baht

Bus to Pitsuanlok:         40 Baht

Lunch:                           40 Baht

Train to Lopburi:        163 Baht

Assorted snacks:           20 Baht

Total:                           263 Baht  (about $ 8.21 per person)

 

We rolled across the open rice fields of the central plain, the rice bowl of Thailand.  The sun baked the car into a somnambulant haze.   The vendors worked the aisle,  rocking along with their buckets of food and drink.  The watery world outside the carriage windows slid by.  Welcome to a train ride in Thailand.  Local folks in small boats fished on the shallow lakes that would soon become sun-drenched fields.  We pass the time wondering where all of the fishes go when the dry season commences.  

The narrow-gauge cars stop here, stop there.  The trains in Thailand look like some throwback from a bygone era because, for the most part, they are.  To step onto a second- or third-class carriage here is to to back in time three decades or more.  It is a romantic way to travel, a slow way, and not the most comfortable.  It can be hot and noisy.  Black smuts from the diesel engines make their way through the open windows and land on the floor, the seats, or on your white shirt.  Still, I love the trains here.  The Thai trains are cheap, reasonably efficient and fun.  They are not usually on time, but they are not usually too late either.  The Thai countryside, seen from the train windows, is far preferable to the clutter along the Thai roadways.  

The inside of our carriage as the evening comes on.

Night fell as we approached Lopburi.  The train threads its way along the edge of the Old Town.  The three towers of the ancient Hindu Wat, icon of the town, passed by our window as the train rumbled to a halt.  I was back in Monkey Town.

The New City of Lopburi, five kilometers from the Old City, is not anything to brag about.  The Old City, however, is a quirky and strange place.  Built around ancient ruins, the Old City is known for one thing:  Monkeys.  The furry creatures roam the city at will, occupying ledges on buildings, traipsing across the electrical wires, and generally running amok.  At the Wat, they are fed twice a day.  The relationship between the town folks and the simians is one of that towards pernicious pets.   Honored at the temple, they are tolerated in the rest of town, where they get up to all sorts of mischief.  

The night was hot and sultry as we walked out of the terminal and into the bustle of the night market.  Threading our way through the stalls and past the occasional monkey or two, we made our way to the Nett Hotel, a budget place of dodgy quality.  Lopburi is not known for its luxuriant digs.  It is a gritty town at best.  A long day's travel done, we showered and hit the streets for a quick bite and walk-about as the night market wound down.  Back at the hotel, I smoked a cigar while the monkeys sat on the balcony and hoped for a handout.  Every window and balcony in the Old City is equipped with monkey screens to prevent the thieving little furry folks from pilfering whatever edibles or shiny objects may be inside.

We had come to within two hours of Bangkok, near enough to feel the end of this particular journey, but far enough away to savor one more night.  Six years ago, on my second trip to Thailand, I stopped in this very same town.  Returning to Lopburi felt as if I were closing another loop, one that I cannot aptly describe.  Tomorrow it is a morning walk-about of the ruins, enjoying the monkey business, and then the last train to the Big Mango.   Until then, i bid you "Ciao for Now!"

Hard Days Happen

Sometimes a day just turns into a shambles.  It happens, even in The Land of Smiles.  In most cases I do it to myself and today was no exception.  What follows is an account of how a day can go to hell.

The day started well enough, what with getting our rental scooter and heading out of New Sukhothai for a good brekkie.  We found the recommended noodle joint, complete with a fresh coffee stand.  It is almost impossible to find the two together.  After a lovely bowl of Kuay Tieu Sukhothai, the local dish, there was even a little coconut and jelly dessert thingy.  Life was good.  We were on our way to Ramkamhaeug National park for a steep jungle hike on a hot Thai day.  What could go wrong?

First of all, on of the members of the team could forget his shoulder bag at the noodle joint (mistake number one) and then not remember it until, say, about ten kilometers later when the team stopped for gas.  Pissed off at myself (mistake number two) I piloted the scooter back to the noodle cafe' where, of course, the smiling waitress had the bag waiting on us.  Take a cue, Mr. Farrang, smile about the whole thing.  But no, I muttered about it and cursed myself for a fool.  That sort of thing does not lend itself to pleasing the other members of the team.

After a thirty-five kilometer ride, plus the ten-odd backtracking for the bag, we managed to find the the park entrance.  We had stocked up on water, but I was busy being miffed and did not pay sufficient attention to stocking up on snacks.  This would prove to be mistake number three.  

Into the jungle heat.

The climb to the top of the mountain is called out as a four hour hike.  It is steep and rugged.  When I read about walking and Farrang, I usually read "Four hours for slow Farrang who are not used to hiking."  Mistake number four.  We started the hike under the dense jungle canopy.  The trail climbed like a goat path.  The rate of elevation gain was about 350 meters up for every 1000 meters in.  Not too shabby.  Things got hot and sweaty real damn quick.  

Wild orchids along the way.  Relax, breath, climb.  Try to let go of the bad Juju.  Fail.  Try again.

Mr. Many-Legs crossing the path.  He does not sweat, nor does he sweat it.  Learn.  Or not.

Already high above the plain and many upward steps to go.

The hike was hard, grueling at times, and could have been just a challenging day.  I had, however, put a grim stamp on the morning that would dog us for the rest of the way.  My One was less than pleased with me over the short rations and my general attitude.  Adding in the blazing heat and bugs, things did not get a lot easier.  

Trying to put a happy face on it.

Two hours into the climb, my shirt was literally clinging to my body with the sweat running out of me.  We were pounding water and it just poured out of us.  Off came the shirt and the bugs be damned.  Quitters we are not.  My One kept a steady pace up the mountain and I settled into the ascent.  One foot in front of the other and all of that.  

Here is a video of my silly sweaty self climbing the trail.  I misspoke in the video.  The rate of climb was about 1000 feet per kilometer.  Mixed measuring systems.  Sorry.

https://youtu.be/dj0mN_usv9w

Find the cave, find the Buddha.  In Thailand, the two seem inseparable.  

At three and a half hours in, we were still a good way from the top, even with steady climbing.  My bad for underestimating the trail.  We had set a turn around time and meant to stick to it.  Passing through a series of magical bamboo groves, we were mesmerized by the eerie "thocking" sound of the bamboo popping in the heat.  It was as if we had been transported to a Kurosawa movie.  Thock, pause, Thock!  The tree frogs screamed and the cicadas buzzed.  It was a weird symphony of sound.

Bamboo clumps hug the hot mountainside.

Here is a link to a video and audio of the bamboo and bug symphony:

https://youtu.be/uaY4b7Z12RI

A hot and silly Farrang clowning around with a big bamboo hat.

As high as we were going to get today, this was our turn-around spot.

Played out and tired, legs revolting, we lunched on our meager supplies while the bugs tried to lunch on us.  It was heading toward later afternoon and we needed to get back down.  It was one of those days when the fun just sort of eluded us.  I have to take most of the blame for this one.  My One kept up a dogged pace on a brutal climb in tropical heat.  A little too much heat, not enough food, a frustrating start, all of these things conspired to sour the day.  So, one tough day in thirty.  I guess I should be happy with a batting average like that, but in truth I was disappointed in myself.  So, lesson learned, time to turn ourselves downhill.  

Another creature just being a creature.  Think less, be more.  Okay, I will try.

The descent was tough and hot as our legs started to protest.  Still, downhill is faster than uphill.  Eventually we were back at the park headquarters.  After some serious dousing and rinsing in the nice big bathroom sinks, we mounted our trusty rental scooter for the trek back into Sukhothai.  Words cannot describe how wonderful the scooter breeze felt as the air rushed over and past us.

The long shadows of the afternoon.

A long scooter ride, food stalls, showers, and a better evening.  Not a great evening, but better.  I proved to myself that left to my own devices I can screw up even a beautiful day in Thailand.  Again, lessons still to be learned, wood to chop, water to carry.  When it is time to chop and carry, chop and carry.  When it is time to think, think.  Try to know the difference.  That was the lesson given to me today.  I hope I make some progress with it.  

There is travel yet to do, things to enjoy, food to eat and transport to take.  Tomorrow we journey to Lopburi, Monkey-Town!!  As for today, I am glad to end it and to say to you:  "Ciao for Now!"