First Class

Another bus terminal in another town.  Bigger or smaller, but all with the same general feel and architecture, the open-air bus stations are all cut from the same cloth.  

We were onboard the first class bus from Loei to Sukhothai.  It was goodbye to Isaan and hello to the flatlands of north-central Thailand.  Sukhothai is credited as being the birthplace of Thailand, the first ancient capital city, and the birthplace of the Thai language.  Not all of this is exactly historically accurate, but Sukhothai remains one of the heavy-hitters on the Thai tourist trail.

So, first class.  In Thailand, there is a wide variation in what constitutes a first class anything.  In the case of our particular bus, I would offer up a new class, First-Class-Barely.  My knees don't touch the seat in front of me, that's true.  An there is a complimentary bottle of water and a packet of crackers.  Yay!  The aircon does work, but as it hits the waterlogged Thai air it drips water from overhead.  It's a good idea to carry some tissues or a rag with which to wipe off the condensation before it falls.  Other than the items mentioned, there is not a whole lot of difference between this bus and a second class.

My curious pal in the next seat up.

We chugged and climbed out of Loei towards Dan Sai.  These are the northern mountains that make up the border between Isaan, northern Thailand, and central Thailand.  We slowly ground up one hill and then rumbled down into the next small town.  Potted plants and nurseries are a big business here. The roadsides are splashed with color, yellows, reds and greens.  

Welcome to the rainy season.  From hour to hour it can be steaming hot or dumping rain.  Here is the Big Blue Bus at our lunch break.  Twenty minutes for a bowl of noodles and a bathroom break.

And then the rains were back.  Always better to be inside the bus when the clouds find you.

Four and a half hours later, just outside my 40 baht per hour formula, we were in Pitsuanlok as the rains pummeled the bus terminal.  Our next leg was a vomit-van for the sixty kilometer run to New Sukhothai.

Ready to go.  Eventually.  In about an hour.

The run to Sukhothai was uneventful.  The rain stayed with us across the wet rice fields.  Down here between norther and central Thailand, the farmers can get in two crops of rice per year if the weather is good.  That means rainy, but not too rainy.  The first rice harvest is underway as is the planting of the second crop.  It is a busy time here for the farmer folks.

Arriving in Sukhothai afforded me an opportunity for one of my favorite sports:  messing with the Tuk-tuk drivers.  Tuk-tuk pilots hate one thing more than any other:  a Farrang on foot.  Walking away fro the bus terminal without motorized transport makes them go crazy.  Thus begins the game.  The main route from the bus terminal into the heart of town is a busy street angling away from town and then the main drag back into town.  Imagine walking two legs of a triangle when a shorter way exists across the single leg.  I have walked this once prior, a long walk that is needless if one knows about the secret trail.  The Tuk-tuk guys gave us the pitch, the horrible four kilometer walk, oh so long, terrible, really.  We smiled, watched the rain settling down.  The tuk-tuk guys had another go, then the last plaintive pitch about "I go now..."  "Okay, bye-bye."

We shouldered our packs and set out down the secret trail that leads from the corner of the bus terminal parking lot across a marshy landscape.  There was one last plea from a tuk-tux guy who warned us about the trail.  "Ducks!  Ducks!"  He made a grabbing motion towards our feet.  Cool!  Attack ducks!  It turns out that Duc is mud.  The trail was wet, but mostly a gravel scooter track and free of attack ducks or mud.  At the other end of the trail we emerged onto a small lane that runs along the canal.  This is a quiet backstreet neighborhood, full of very small homes, a few rice fields, and a smattering of guesthouses.  The shortcut also turns a three kilometer walk into a one kilometer stroll, less if my old standby guesthouse hadn't been closed.

Looking for option number two, we ambled through a dying drizzle to the main river and turned south.  Luck was with us and we found the J&J Guesthouse.  This was the magic bungalow spot, the kind of place travelers pass on to each other by word of mouth.  Set around a lovely garden space, the eight or so little bungalows were newly remodeled teak houses complete with nice covered porches and a smiling hostess.  Better still, the place was not listed in Travelfish or Lonely Planet!  All was well.  For 500 baht per night we were soon showered off the travel grime and heading out for market food.

Sukhothai gets a lot of travelers in the season.  Because of that, getting real Thai food is a bit of a struggle, but only a bit.  In Isaan, the food is served fiery with the assumption that anyone traveling there should be able to deal with the local cusine.  Here in Sukhothai the food can be dumbed down to a very bland level.  Solution?  Don't go to any stands where there are Farrang and make sure you know how to say "I like spicy food."  After a less than stellar first course, we found the real deal.

My Brother laying it down and frying it up.  This stall produces a local noodle dish consisting of wide noodles in a thick savory soup.  Take a good look at this guy.  Now factor in that it is about 85 Fahrenheit and about 90 percent relative humidity.  This is what this man does for a living every night.  Heat, Kitchen, get it?

The result of My Brother's labors over a steaming hot stall:  Seafood noodles and greens in a thick spicy soup.  Yowzah!!  Yes, that is Thai red chili powered swimming across the top of the bowl.

The Sunday night street market was packed with folks and included a little carnival for the kids.  We walked the stalls, milled with the crowd, jumped the puddles, and generally carried on like good Thai folks.  As the fatigue of a travel day caught up with us, we threaded through the crowd back to the bridge, the orienting landmark here in New Sukhothai, and thence up the quiet lane past the Wat.  J&J is kitty-corner from an enormous neighborhood Wat.  While it is quiet in the evening, I knew we would be hearing the monks in the early morning, complete with the headman over the loudspeakers.  Oh well.

Trouble at the J&J.  When we arrived back at our digs, we were told (with big smiles, of course) that the electricity was out to the bungalow side of the compound.  But not to worry, We Fix, We Fix!  More smiles.  No one gets upset, no one frowns.  Things will work out.  So it was time to sit in the garden in the semi-darkness.

Yay!!  The light man cometh.  Sunday evening and yet the electrical guys managed to show up in short order and set everything to light.  RIght.  Whatever.

The wonders of electricity restored, we spent the rest of the late evening watching the moon rise from the porch of our cute little bungalow.  Tired and happy, we retired to bask in the bliss of an oscillating fan wafting cool (relatively speaking) breezes over our comfy bed.  Here ends the portion of the story that I am willing to write about.  

Old Sukhothai, or the historic Capitol, will have to wait until tomorrow.  For now, Friends and neighbors, from New Sukhothai, I bid you a fond Ciao for Now!