Well I certainly look the part now. Baggy, faded trousers turned up to just below the knee, sandals, an unintentionally off-white vest, a dirty short-sleeved shirt draped over the top, an ever growing beard and haircut, and a cap that must have at least quadroupled in weight since I've had it - due to the amount of sweat it has absorbed. I look like I was in a boy band that broke up 10 years ago and I've refused to get changed ever since.
It's amazing how quickly your mood can change. This morning it was all doom and gloom about having no money, but a walk down to the sea and suddenly it's not so bad anymore. And as I sit here listening to my iPod, I'm as happy as I've ever been. 'Nelly - Just A Dream' and 'Big Mountain - Baby I Love Your Way' came on and took me straight back to our beach party on Koh Phagnan (which I'll get to later) and now I can't stop smiling. The power of music. Magic.
Yes I'm stuck with no money, but I'm stuck here with no money. In the sunshine, by the sea, with my music. I could think of worse places to be..
--------
The next morning, heavily out of pocket form the stupid motorbike, we jumped into a taxi to drive up to the north where we, or the Germans, had decided to stay. It was again a bungalow, only this time not quite on the beach. (About 10 seconds away - I was being picky beyond my financial means.) But it was a lot bigger. Two double beds, air con, a big bathroom with - get this - hot water, and most importantly to Andy it had the fridge. Or refridger as he kept referring to it as. I didn't correct him, I don't know if that was nice or mean - mean I hope.
He filled the fridge with his 6 giant coconuts, still in the big green cases they grow in. He was happy.
"Later, when they are cold we will cut them open and drink the milk"
He had a look of genuine childlike excitement on his face. The kind of look that I only bare when a barman hands me a pint of beer and says 'This one's on the house'. I can't remember that ever happening but I imagine that would be the case anyway.
"So tonight we will have a party with the coconuts."
"Wow Andy, it's amazing how something so simple as nationality can change your perception of the word 'party' so much"
He looked at me blankly..
Onto the beach. Chillin' in the sunshine. Me and Andy were anyway, Vinz had stayed inside to read a German book that he had found in the reception. 'Mein Kampf' I assumed. A swim in the sea and then some sunbathing to dry off. iPod on, kickin' it.
"Was that rain?"
Within a minute the crowded beach had emptied. Not us though. Fuck it, we're already wet, and the rain's not exactly cold... Looks like I'm going swimming again then. So back into the sea in the pissing rain I went. Andy just stayed lying there, as if still sunbathing. We had the huge beach all to ourselves.
"Hmm this calls for some sort of party. A rain party."
iPod back on and the beach was mine. ' This Is How We Do It' by Montell Jordan came on and prompted me to get my motherfunkin' groove on. So as people stood and watched from their dry bungalows, I raved along the sand and Andy bopped around in the sea. Completely soaked. Completely worth it.
About half an hour later the sun came back. And as a result, so did the people. Boring. Party over.
"So these coconuts tonight Andy... how about we spice them up a bit to make it interesting?"
This time he looked at me with genuine enthusiasm. Every other time he had agreed to get drunk it was all very vague and forced. Not this time though. He was excited. I had broken him. I had won. Get him away from Vinz for 2 hours and he had wilted. I would say victory for England but I think we were probably on a level pegging by this point.
After dinner that night we went back to the bungalow to start dissecting the coconuts. Andy whipped out an impressive 6inch blade (blade) that he just happened to have in his bag. he spent the next hour carving off the thick green casings to reveal the coconuts, as we know them, inside. Then he bored a hole into the top of one of them, big enough to fit a straw in. That one was for Vinz. Then on two more coconuts he bored much bigger holes into the tops.
"Why do you need to have holes so big?"
We hadn't told Vinz of our plan.
He didn't look too impressed with Andy. Expectant of me, but definately disappointed with Andy. Had I created a rift between the Germans? Hope so.
To the shop. 70cl bottle of vodka, carton of orange juice, carton of grape juice and two red bulls. So after consuming what felt like a gallon of coconut milk we poured in our coctails. 70cl of vodka made 4 coconuts. They were pretty ram. But bring it on, to the beach!
Vinz unsuprisingly declined and went to bed. So we partied on the beach with the coconuts. Andy's earlier suggestion that we would have a coconut party that I had scoffed at had turned out a lot better than I had anticipated. We chatted, we raved, we got stupid, we turned Vinz's sandcastle he had made on his break from reading 'Mein Kampf' into a toilet. A bit of beach football, a few wobbles and fuck the sun's coming up. Bedtime.
"We'll have to be really quiet so we don't wake Vinz up cos he'll be really angry"
However we were drunk so failed completely on that front. He swore at us. But that made us giggle. He wasn't the happiest German i have ever seen. Though that in itself is a pretty rare commodity.
"Simon can I sleep in your bed?"
"Jesus Andy, I know you don't drink much but get a grip"
"I know, I'm sorry but I'm scared Vinz is gonna kill me if I go near him"
--Vinz and Andy shared a bed at most places as it's cheaper. Acceptable I suppose. But they also put suncream on each others backs.
"Simon can you.." , "No" --
That was it, all i needed to do was kill off boring Vinz and Andy woukd morph into party Andy again.
Tomorrow they were heading back to Bangkok for a few days before flying home. The islands were too expensive to stay on alone so I was going to be heading back with them. They already had their boat tickets to Surat Thani and train tickets from there on to Bangkok booked, but it would be fine, I could just get mine on the day at the stations.
That was, as it turned out, misplaced optimism and I was to spend the next night alone in a scabby room no bigger than my foot.
'See where the wind takes you' they say. 'Go with the flow'
Well this particular wind, however, was blown fresh from Satan's arsecrack.
------------
Sometimes in life you have to be sensible and prioritise.
I have.
I have decided that I'm not going to be hungry tomorrow so have spent 8 of my last 13 Rinngit on two cans of Skol. I couldn't sleep last night, so it's medicinal.
Cheers!
Tuesday, 29 March 2011
Monday, 28 March 2011
Chapter 8 : Curb
I fucked up. It's Tuesday morning and I have 18 Rinngit to last me until my money comes through on Thursday at the earliest. 18 Rinngit is about 3 pounds 50. 1.75 per day. 1 large bottle of water, maybe a packet of crisps and a packet of biscuits per day and that's my lot. Worse is the fact that I only have 6 smokes left. One for morning, afternoon and night then. No money for internet so I can't even book my flight from Singapore that I wanted for Sunday so will probably have to stay for another week or so. No phone credit so I can't ring to see if my money has transferred yet. The only way to do that is by walking two miles to the only ATM in town and trying to withdraw money. And walking 2 miles in this heat isn't the easiest thing to do without any water...
We got an impressive 2 minute lesson in how to ride the bikes and were handed the keys. Huh, real tough to get a bike round these parts then. They gave us a map and a suggested route to take. Up north to a waterfall, then to a load of secluded beaches on the north-west coast then back down along the coast to our south-east base.
Off we go then. I like motorbikes. They're fun. I wanted to keep mine. Pre-crash i did anyway.. After a 20 minute drive we arrived at the waterfall. Or at the bottom of a mountain, where you leave your bikes and walk up to the waterfall. Another bastard mountain. And it was hot.
"Vinz you surely by now have realised my distain for this kind of activity"
But no, up we went. Walking. Not speeding around on the bikes we had paid to hire for the day. Walking. Half way up there was an impressive view-point across the island. But I was sweating so I just wanted to find the sodding waterfall so I could jump in the water. We found it eventually.
"We should have brought our swimming shorts"
"I don't care, I'm sweating so I'm getting naked and jumping in"
This was after patiently waiting for the group of tourists before us to vacate the area. I didnt want an indecent exposure lawsuit on my hands. Though I'm not 100% up on my Thai exposure law I will admit. It was worth it. All the sweat gone. But, shit I didn't bring a towel..
"Vinz I'm going to use your T-shirt as a towel"
"No I don't want you to do that, can you not find something else?"
"...that was a joke Vinz..."
Germans....
Sod it, clothes on. They'll dry in the wind as we're driving.
Down to the bikes and we're off again. Yeah baby, why have I been wasting my life walking places? Up to the beaches on the north. I didn't really see the point in what we were doing. Driving up to a beach, saying 'look how nice and quiet it is' and then driving off again. I was happier just driving. Why do we have to keep stopping?
Then the Germans decided they like one of the beaches so much that we would see if they had any accommodation for tomorrow. They did. So tomorrow we were coming to stay here instead.
"Erm, why..?"
The bungalow wasn't on the beach, it was more expensive and was covered with holidaying families. But aha I see. The room had a fridge. Andy wanted a fridge to store his 6 coconuts he had collected from the beach we were staying at the previous day. Six huge coconuts. Turns out he really likes coconut milk... Whatever..
Then we drove to another beach, chilled there for an hour or so and then decided we should probably head back as it was getting dark. This part was cool. One long road down the west coast and along the south with virtually nobody on it except for us. Time for some speeding, some slaloming and some honking of horns. Driving like the mature, responsible drivers we are. Back into town. Cars. Bastard cars. No more speeding. We found a night bazaar so had a quick wander around there, some dinner, a quick play on the internet and then off we sped again.
As we headed for home I was - all jokes welcome - bringing up the rear. Vinz, who was at the front, hadn't quite grasped the indicators yet so turned sharply into the road down to the beach, giving no prior warning to Andy behind him. And as Andy was following Vinz, he too had to pull a sharp turn with no prior warning via indicators. Which of course meant that I in turn had to do the same. But my wheels didn't particularly like turning so sharply onto the dirt road down to our bungalow so spun out and BANG. Curb.
Shit. Fuck. Bollocks. Twat. Bastard. Shit.
"Shit Simon are you ok?"
"Yes I'm ok but LOOK AT THE FUCKING BIKE. HAVE YOU NOT HEARD OF FUCKING INDICATORS YOU STUPID GERMAN C**T?"
Oops. Maybe a tad harsh. Thankfully as it was all so loud and shaken, I don't think he fully understood what I'd just said to him.
So that was my bike then. Still drivable, but I had a feeling that they may notice the huge scratch down the length of the bike. The scuffed headlights and the bent stand. Shit, that's Cambodia off the itinery then. It was going to cost a pretty penny that was for sure. And a pretty penny it did cost.
So a bad end to an otherwise pretty good day.
I still want a bike, I still think they're cool. I just want one with insurance next time.
We got an impressive 2 minute lesson in how to ride the bikes and were handed the keys. Huh, real tough to get a bike round these parts then. They gave us a map and a suggested route to take. Up north to a waterfall, then to a load of secluded beaches on the north-west coast then back down along the coast to our south-east base.
Off we go then. I like motorbikes. They're fun. I wanted to keep mine. Pre-crash i did anyway.. After a 20 minute drive we arrived at the waterfall. Or at the bottom of a mountain, where you leave your bikes and walk up to the waterfall. Another bastard mountain. And it was hot.
"Vinz you surely by now have realised my distain for this kind of activity"
But no, up we went. Walking. Not speeding around on the bikes we had paid to hire for the day. Walking. Half way up there was an impressive view-point across the island. But I was sweating so I just wanted to find the sodding waterfall so I could jump in the water. We found it eventually.
"We should have brought our swimming shorts"
"I don't care, I'm sweating so I'm getting naked and jumping in"
This was after patiently waiting for the group of tourists before us to vacate the area. I didnt want an indecent exposure lawsuit on my hands. Though I'm not 100% up on my Thai exposure law I will admit. It was worth it. All the sweat gone. But, shit I didn't bring a towel..
"Vinz I'm going to use your T-shirt as a towel"
"No I don't want you to do that, can you not find something else?"
"...that was a joke Vinz..."
Germans....
Sod it, clothes on. They'll dry in the wind as we're driving.
Down to the bikes and we're off again. Yeah baby, why have I been wasting my life walking places? Up to the beaches on the north. I didn't really see the point in what we were doing. Driving up to a beach, saying 'look how nice and quiet it is' and then driving off again. I was happier just driving. Why do we have to keep stopping?
Then the Germans decided they like one of the beaches so much that we would see if they had any accommodation for tomorrow. They did. So tomorrow we were coming to stay here instead.
"Erm, why..?"
The bungalow wasn't on the beach, it was more expensive and was covered with holidaying families. But aha I see. The room had a fridge. Andy wanted a fridge to store his 6 coconuts he had collected from the beach we were staying at the previous day. Six huge coconuts. Turns out he really likes coconut milk... Whatever..
Then we drove to another beach, chilled there for an hour or so and then decided we should probably head back as it was getting dark. This part was cool. One long road down the west coast and along the south with virtually nobody on it except for us. Time for some speeding, some slaloming and some honking of horns. Driving like the mature, responsible drivers we are. Back into town. Cars. Bastard cars. No more speeding. We found a night bazaar so had a quick wander around there, some dinner, a quick play on the internet and then off we sped again.
As we headed for home I was - all jokes welcome - bringing up the rear. Vinz, who was at the front, hadn't quite grasped the indicators yet so turned sharply into the road down to the beach, giving no prior warning to Andy behind him. And as Andy was following Vinz, he too had to pull a sharp turn with no prior warning via indicators. Which of course meant that I in turn had to do the same. But my wheels didn't particularly like turning so sharply onto the dirt road down to our bungalow so spun out and BANG. Curb.
Shit. Fuck. Bollocks. Twat. Bastard. Shit.
"Shit Simon are you ok?"
"Yes I'm ok but LOOK AT THE FUCKING BIKE. HAVE YOU NOT HEARD OF FUCKING INDICATORS YOU STUPID GERMAN C**T?"
Oops. Maybe a tad harsh. Thankfully as it was all so loud and shaken, I don't think he fully understood what I'd just said to him.
So that was my bike then. Still drivable, but I had a feeling that they may notice the huge scratch down the length of the bike. The scuffed headlights and the bent stand. Shit, that's Cambodia off the itinery then. It was going to cost a pretty penny that was for sure. And a pretty penny it did cost.
So a bad end to an otherwise pretty good day.
I still want a bike, I still think they're cool. I just want one with insurance next time.
Chapter 7 : Mr. Sunburn
Malaysia is a strange place. One side of a street will be like a third-world country, and the other side like London. Part Soho, part Westminster. And rather problematically, the beer is expensive.
If you're travelling long term on a shoestring budget, it is not the best idea to latch onto rich people. The two Californian girls = rich. The two Germans = on a 3 week holiday so spending and travelling at an increased rate. And if you travel with these people you inevitably end up doing as they do, spending as they spend. And when they're back home earning money again, you're left counting the cost of your excursions. Henceforth, I have spent my two month budget for Asia in just one month.
And also when travelling, try to keep track of what day it is. Because if you end up spending all your money on your card and need someone back home to urgently transfer some more funds across, picking a Saturday is a bad time to do so. The banks are closed. And again on Sunday. And if the transfer also takes 2-3 working days to complete, working out on a Saturday that you have only 20pounds left in your account means that you will only have 20pounds until Thursday. And getting excited beacuse you've found a bar showing football and spending 10pounds of your remaining 20 on beer on a Sunday night is not a clever thing to do either...
So hungover and penniless, I have nothing to do other than write. No more beer for Simon this week. Just crackers and other cheap, shit food. I can't even pay for my accommodation until the end of the week which they appear non-too thrilled about. Just crackers and butter, spread with my pen knife. If it wasn't for that bloody motorbike crash I could be out partying right now. I blame the Germans, but then again, I always do.. And hey, only regret the things that you didn't do.
----------------
So I was doing it. Travelling hundreds of miles over two days to go meet the two people who just three days ago I had been almost glad to see the back of. Turns out I had liked the Germans, though it pains me to say so. The fact that they didn't drink didn't actually matter because we had a laugh. The banter was great. With Andy it was anyway, Vinz didn't really understand the concept.
"Are you also mean to and joke about your friends back home?"
He was confused as to why I kept taking the piss out of Andy's trousers. 'Aladdin's Lederhosen' as I had dubbed them. Baggy things with the crotch starting below the knee.
'Now I know that aint for cock space'
'Do you not like his trousers?"
Oh Vinz. You are a lost cause here. You will never understand.
A 3 hour bus from Pai to Chiang Mai, a 13 hour sleeper train to Bangkok (disappointingly with no bathroom party this time), a 12 hour wait in Bangkok station - because the station is in probably the worst area in the whole of Bangkok. Two tramps to every one other person. So it's best to just stay inside, plus it's prettier in there..- then a 12 hour bus to Surat Thani, and then a 3 hour boat to the island of Koh Phagnan. The boat was great. I sat on the front of the boat, basking in the sunshine, for the duration of the journey. And with being at sea, there was a breeze so it wasn't too hot. But that is dangerous beacuse you cannot tell, as I didn't, that you are burning.
I got to Phagnan and scoured all the touts for some accommodation whilst I waited for the German's boat, which to my suprise turned out not to be a U-boat, to arrive from Koh Tao. Here come my two favourite Germans. It isn't hard, I hate every other one.
"Hey there Mr. Sunburn."
-They had picked up on my referencing of objects with the prefix of 'Mr.' and thought it was funny. (Mr. Towel, Mr.Gecko, Mr. Coconut etc.) And now Andy was using it to mock me. Mr. Sunburn. The bastard. I hated Germans again.
Accommodation sorted. A Bungalow hut on the beach. 600baht. 200each. 4quid for a hut on the beach. And a good beach at that. White sand, light blue sea and nobody else on it. Perfect. And a hammock hung in our porchway. I was going to be missing parties galore in Pai, but here I had my own hammock on the beach. I was pleased with my decision, even if it did come with an underlying smell of wiener schnitzel.
"Boys, today I will be doing nothing. I've been travelling for two days now and there is a hammock here with my name on it. So if you want me, you know where I'll be"
I don't know what they did that day. I didn't care. I was in my hammock with my iPod on. I was settled. I could have laid there for weeks and would never have got bored. The only time I moved that day was to go get some beer from the shop and then returned, with my beer, to the hammock.
The next day was of a similar ilk. A walk around the local town - not much going on there. A swim in the sea and a lot more hammock time (like hammer time but a lot less annoying). I was content to be doing this for the whole week but Germany's answers to Mr. Motivator were bored so the next day we were to rent motorbikes and drive round the island to see what we could find.
Hmm motorbikes are surely not as comfy as hammocks I thought. I was correct on that front. But they are a hell of a lot more fun. They are also, however, a lot more expensive than hammocks when you crash them.
I experienced both.
The hammock collapsed - I'm scared of hammocks now.
Motorbikes it is then...
If you're travelling long term on a shoestring budget, it is not the best idea to latch onto rich people. The two Californian girls = rich. The two Germans = on a 3 week holiday so spending and travelling at an increased rate. And if you travel with these people you inevitably end up doing as they do, spending as they spend. And when they're back home earning money again, you're left counting the cost of your excursions. Henceforth, I have spent my two month budget for Asia in just one month.
And also when travelling, try to keep track of what day it is. Because if you end up spending all your money on your card and need someone back home to urgently transfer some more funds across, picking a Saturday is a bad time to do so. The banks are closed. And again on Sunday. And if the transfer also takes 2-3 working days to complete, working out on a Saturday that you have only 20pounds left in your account means that you will only have 20pounds until Thursday. And getting excited beacuse you've found a bar showing football and spending 10pounds of your remaining 20 on beer on a Sunday night is not a clever thing to do either...
So hungover and penniless, I have nothing to do other than write. No more beer for Simon this week. Just crackers and other cheap, shit food. I can't even pay for my accommodation until the end of the week which they appear non-too thrilled about. Just crackers and butter, spread with my pen knife. If it wasn't for that bloody motorbike crash I could be out partying right now. I blame the Germans, but then again, I always do.. And hey, only regret the things that you didn't do.
----------------
So I was doing it. Travelling hundreds of miles over two days to go meet the two people who just three days ago I had been almost glad to see the back of. Turns out I had liked the Germans, though it pains me to say so. The fact that they didn't drink didn't actually matter because we had a laugh. The banter was great. With Andy it was anyway, Vinz didn't really understand the concept.
"Are you also mean to and joke about your friends back home?"
He was confused as to why I kept taking the piss out of Andy's trousers. 'Aladdin's Lederhosen' as I had dubbed them. Baggy things with the crotch starting below the knee.
'Now I know that aint for cock space'
'Do you not like his trousers?"
Oh Vinz. You are a lost cause here. You will never understand.
A 3 hour bus from Pai to Chiang Mai, a 13 hour sleeper train to Bangkok (disappointingly with no bathroom party this time), a 12 hour wait in Bangkok station - because the station is in probably the worst area in the whole of Bangkok. Two tramps to every one other person. So it's best to just stay inside, plus it's prettier in there..- then a 12 hour bus to Surat Thani, and then a 3 hour boat to the island of Koh Phagnan. The boat was great. I sat on the front of the boat, basking in the sunshine, for the duration of the journey. And with being at sea, there was a breeze so it wasn't too hot. But that is dangerous beacuse you cannot tell, as I didn't, that you are burning.
I got to Phagnan and scoured all the touts for some accommodation whilst I waited for the German's boat, which to my suprise turned out not to be a U-boat, to arrive from Koh Tao. Here come my two favourite Germans. It isn't hard, I hate every other one.
"Hey there Mr. Sunburn."
-They had picked up on my referencing of objects with the prefix of 'Mr.' and thought it was funny. (Mr. Towel, Mr.Gecko, Mr. Coconut etc.) And now Andy was using it to mock me. Mr. Sunburn. The bastard. I hated Germans again.
Accommodation sorted. A Bungalow hut on the beach. 600baht. 200each. 4quid for a hut on the beach. And a good beach at that. White sand, light blue sea and nobody else on it. Perfect. And a hammock hung in our porchway. I was going to be missing parties galore in Pai, but here I had my own hammock on the beach. I was pleased with my decision, even if it did come with an underlying smell of wiener schnitzel.
"Boys, today I will be doing nothing. I've been travelling for two days now and there is a hammock here with my name on it. So if you want me, you know where I'll be"
I don't know what they did that day. I didn't care. I was in my hammock with my iPod on. I was settled. I could have laid there for weeks and would never have got bored. The only time I moved that day was to go get some beer from the shop and then returned, with my beer, to the hammock.
The next day was of a similar ilk. A walk around the local town - not much going on there. A swim in the sea and a lot more hammock time (like hammer time but a lot less annoying). I was content to be doing this for the whole week but Germany's answers to Mr. Motivator were bored so the next day we were to rent motorbikes and drive round the island to see what we could find.
Hmm motorbikes are surely not as comfy as hammocks I thought. I was correct on that front. But they are a hell of a lot more fun. They are also, however, a lot more expensive than hammocks when you crash them.
I experienced both.
The hammock collapsed - I'm scared of hammocks now.
Motorbikes it is then...
Thursday, 24 March 2011
Chapter 6 : Pai In The Sky
I'm glad to see I can still write in English. I sure as hell don't speak proper English anymore.
Three weeks of not speaking to one other English person has resulted in me sounding like a foreigner speaking broken English. Nobody could understand me when i spoke in my normal accent si I've slowly, subconciously started speaking English like the Europeans do and now everyone can understand me. Poor sods. It's not quite to the level of Steve McClaren but there's a definate twang emerging.
I even had to ask for a garbage can the other day because nobody knew what a bin was. Stupid Yank TV and music poisoning the minds of all Europeans. None of them speak broken English, they all speak broken American. Potato chips, trash cans, motels.. No, no you're wrong. Stop saying that.
I woke up. My head hurt. I remembered that in my drunken stupor the night before, I had agreed to go to a place called Pai with Lauren, Shannon & Sarah. Where is Pai? What is Pai? I knew neither but it looked like that was where I was going today.
I said my goodbyes to the Germans - I wasn't gonna miss those guys, no way - and headed off to the bus station to meet the ladies.
"So... where the fuck are we going again?"
We were going - via minibus - to Pai. A sleepy little hippy town up in the mountains. Full of hippy travellers. Great. Hippies. My favourite kind of people. Suddenly the Germans weren't looking so bad. Suddenly the Germans invitation to join them on the islands looked like it had been too hastily dismissed. But fuck it, go with the flow. To Pai it is then..
Three hours later and there we were. It was quiet. Compare to the busy cities of Bangkok and Chiang Mai it was deathly quiet. There were no cars, not one. A few motorbikes, but they were being driven by hippies at an eco-friendly half-a-mile-an-hour.
Pai is basically one long walking street covered in bars, cafes and markets. But nobody was falling out of the bars drunk. Everybody was civilised and at one with nature. It was oh, so quiet. Not in my head though, alarm bells were ringing loud and clear that this was not the place for me.
We found our accommodation. A 4-bed wooden hut in some kind of hippy grow-your-own-everything-to-save-the-earth-bullshit garden. It was... nice... Everything in Pai was nice. But nice is nothing to Simon. What does nice bring to the party? It's like 'Oh yeah they were really nice', but do you remember their names? No. Nice is non-descript. Nice is boring.
Due to my minimal hours sleep, and as it turned out, Lauren & Shannons lack of any sleep the night before, we weren't exactly in party mode that night. So a quick wander around the town but back to basecame by midnight. Pai had a strong effect, sending two San. Fran party girls to sleep by 12. I bet some of the people on the train to Chiang Mai wished that they had had some Pai on that journey..
Morning came and I went for a walk down to the river in the sunshine. The weather was much more bearable here. Still hot but more sunshine and less sweat. Oh it turns out the river's not fit for swimming in then. I went and got some breakfast and wandered back to the cabin. Nobody in. Time for a spot of sunbathing then. iPod into Shannon's speakers and out onto the porch to chill. That appeared to be all you could do in Pai, just chill.
But soon enough the peace was interrupted as Shannon came bouncing towards me.
"Guess what?
"Erm, you rented a motorbike?"
"Yeah how'd you guess?
"You still have the helmet on.."
She wanted to go further up into the mountains to a waterfall someone had told her about. And she had decided that renting a bike was the best way we could get there to go 'get fucked up & party'. Hmm I have never driven a bike before and getting 'fucked up' and driving one probably isn't the best idea so I think I'll pass..
"Ok well you can ride on the back of mine"
I was being sensible. Or so I thought, thought quite how riding on the back of someone who's fucked up's motorbike is any safer I'm not so sure.. Then Lauren came ambling back
"Hey guys, I met some dude who said there's a really cool waterfall and he said he'll take us there in his truck. Hey why do you have a helmet on?"
Lauren had met an odd-ball 40+ Russian guy who, as luck would have it, also had a bike. So with Lauren on the back of his and me on the back of Shannon's we set off to go speeding up into the mountains.
"And on the way we can stop off at my friends cafe and get some drugs"
Oh. That explains a lot about the Russian then..
So half an hour further up into the mountains and we pulled into a roadside cafe. Or as it turned out, a drug den disguised as a roadside cafe. We were greeted by Andre, a Kiwi who had moved to Thailand when he was 21 and had lived there for the 6 years since selling drugs to travellers. Not a bad lifestyle I imagine. He was cool, he was the guy that five years ago I wanted to be. He took us through the cafe and out into an orchard-like garden. Make yourselves at home, I'll be right with you. Up into a gazebo and into a hammock. Then down onto the cushions. Then back up into a different hammock. I couldn't decide, it was all too comfy. Then Andre returned with a trio of cats following him. One came to sit on me in the hammock.
"This one's cool what's he called?"
"She's called Bitch"
"Huh, nice name"
"Yeah she used to have a nicer one. But then last month se had kittens, but she decided she didn't like them all that much.. so she ate them."
"Fair name then"
Andre then laid out a spread on the floor. Food, booze, pipes, smokes and a big bowl of weed.
"Help yourselves"
"What?"
"Just take what you want, it's free. It's nice to have some company so feel free to just hang out here as long as you want"
So we did. All day. Upon remembering that I'd said that I was English, Andre ran inside and came back out with a big grin on his face and... a cup of tea.
"You, my Kiwi friend, are a genious"
------------------------------------------------------------
"Shit it's pretty dark now, so much for the waterfall"
"You guys have any plans for the night cos there's some hot springs further up the mountain that I could take you to?"
That sounds like a plan to me. Back down to Pai for some dinner, then up to the hot springs for a party.
"So anyway what can I get for you guys then? You name it I've got it"
I'd forgotten that we were there to buy drugs, that Andre was actually a drug dealer and not just a new friend. The girls bout a quarter ounce of week and some opium. The Russian wanted some heroin. Oh. Heroin. No I'm ok thanks.. Lauren & Shannon also passed, citing Shannons past heroin addiction as the reason. Jeez this all just got a bit heavy for my liking... But we arranged to meet Andre later and headed back down to Pai to get some food and supplies to take to the springs.
As we drove down the main street in Pai we spooted Sarah walking along with 3 Dutch guys. The Dutch guys had also rented bikes so we now had 4 more people for our motorbike gang.
"I wanna call us the Heavens Angels"
"No Shannon"
The Russian drove us to a stall in the middle of nowhere to get some food. Noodle soup with pork. Or for vegetarians it's Noodle soup without pork. Huh. Noodle soup with pork it is then. The Russian was weird. He kept dozing off and then waking up and shouting at himself. Then all of a sudden,
"I go now"
"What?"
"I go now, to bed. I go"
Right so now we're stuck in the middle of nowhere and we don't have the guy who knows the way back up to Andre's place. Fuck. Luckily Lauren had put Andre's number in her phone so rang him and he agreed to come half an hour down the mountain just to take us back up again. A genuinely nice guy. A rare breed.
It was that fashionable hour of midnight again when Andre arrived so off we went to go find the hot springs. About an hours drive and we were there.
'Bad news guys, I think it's closed'
Closed? How do you close a hot spring? Oh... oh I see. You mean hot tubs...
Andre then rang his friend who said that he knew of some others than we could use. So we went to meet his friend. Another Russian guy. Another odd-ball.
"What's up with him?"
"Oh he bought some methadone off me this morning so I'd say he's probably tripping off that right now"
So we were following a Russian guy who was up to his eyeballs whilst in charge of a motorbike. Good. I can see no possible problems with this at all.. But it was fine. He got us there.
The sound of our 9-strong motorbike posse woke the owner of the hot tubs up as we rolled into town. My thoughts of 'This is stupid, she's gonna tell us to piss off' were wrong. At 2am she was quite happy to get up, welcome us, and fill and heat the 8 hot tubs up for us.
I had forgotten my swimming shorts. Boxers it is then. 8 of us packed into two hot tubs. Shannon's speakers out of the bag, iPod on, beers cracked open, joints lit. Hot tub party.
"Weren't there 9 of us before?"
"Yeah where's the Russian guy?"
Oh there he is... It appeared the methadone had fully taken hold of him now was he floated in the hot tub furthest away from us singing to himself.
So a hot tub party. Until 4am when the water started getting cold and the beer had dried up. We bid our farewells to Andre and the Russian guy who was still happily floating over in the corner and set off back down the mountain. Oh look there's a bar. Just out of town we found a bar with a fire outside. So we consumed more beer as we sat around the fire until the bar closed at a not-unreasonable 5.30am. Party over? Nah. Back to our cabin for more beer and smokes.
It was about 7.30am when the Dutch guys left. Sarah had left earlier as a result of an intolerance to the large amounts of booze and weed consumed. 7.30. The sun was high in the sky. It was red hot.
"I'm not gonna be able to sleep now"
30 seconds later I was dead to the world.
We never made it to the waterfall. But something tell me we had more fun anyway. Lauren's suggestion that tomorrow we 'get something a little stronger to get fucked up on' wasn't sitting well with me though. Maybe I should leave the girls to it and go find some new friends. Or, heaven forbid, some old neo-nazi style friends?
And when i woke up in the morning (afternoon) to a text from Andy telling me how good the islands were, my decision was made for me.
Three weeks of not speaking to one other English person has resulted in me sounding like a foreigner speaking broken English. Nobody could understand me when i spoke in my normal accent si I've slowly, subconciously started speaking English like the Europeans do and now everyone can understand me. Poor sods. It's not quite to the level of Steve McClaren but there's a definate twang emerging.
I even had to ask for a garbage can the other day because nobody knew what a bin was. Stupid Yank TV and music poisoning the minds of all Europeans. None of them speak broken English, they all speak broken American. Potato chips, trash cans, motels.. No, no you're wrong. Stop saying that.
I woke up. My head hurt. I remembered that in my drunken stupor the night before, I had agreed to go to a place called Pai with Lauren, Shannon & Sarah. Where is Pai? What is Pai? I knew neither but it looked like that was where I was going today.
I said my goodbyes to the Germans - I wasn't gonna miss those guys, no way - and headed off to the bus station to meet the ladies.
"So... where the fuck are we going again?"
We were going - via minibus - to Pai. A sleepy little hippy town up in the mountains. Full of hippy travellers. Great. Hippies. My favourite kind of people. Suddenly the Germans weren't looking so bad. Suddenly the Germans invitation to join them on the islands looked like it had been too hastily dismissed. But fuck it, go with the flow. To Pai it is then..
Three hours later and there we were. It was quiet. Compare to the busy cities of Bangkok and Chiang Mai it was deathly quiet. There were no cars, not one. A few motorbikes, but they were being driven by hippies at an eco-friendly half-a-mile-an-hour.
Pai is basically one long walking street covered in bars, cafes and markets. But nobody was falling out of the bars drunk. Everybody was civilised and at one with nature. It was oh, so quiet. Not in my head though, alarm bells were ringing loud and clear that this was not the place for me.
We found our accommodation. A 4-bed wooden hut in some kind of hippy grow-your-own-everything-to-save-the-earth-bullshit garden. It was... nice... Everything in Pai was nice. But nice is nothing to Simon. What does nice bring to the party? It's like 'Oh yeah they were really nice', but do you remember their names? No. Nice is non-descript. Nice is boring.
Due to my minimal hours sleep, and as it turned out, Lauren & Shannons lack of any sleep the night before, we weren't exactly in party mode that night. So a quick wander around the town but back to basecame by midnight. Pai had a strong effect, sending two San. Fran party girls to sleep by 12. I bet some of the people on the train to Chiang Mai wished that they had had some Pai on that journey..
Morning came and I went for a walk down to the river in the sunshine. The weather was much more bearable here. Still hot but more sunshine and less sweat. Oh it turns out the river's not fit for swimming in then. I went and got some breakfast and wandered back to the cabin. Nobody in. Time for a spot of sunbathing then. iPod into Shannon's speakers and out onto the porch to chill. That appeared to be all you could do in Pai, just chill.
But soon enough the peace was interrupted as Shannon came bouncing towards me.
"Guess what?
"Erm, you rented a motorbike?"
"Yeah how'd you guess?
"You still have the helmet on.."
She wanted to go further up into the mountains to a waterfall someone had told her about. And she had decided that renting a bike was the best way we could get there to go 'get fucked up & party'. Hmm I have never driven a bike before and getting 'fucked up' and driving one probably isn't the best idea so I think I'll pass..
"Ok well you can ride on the back of mine"
I was being sensible. Or so I thought, thought quite how riding on the back of someone who's fucked up's motorbike is any safer I'm not so sure.. Then Lauren came ambling back
"Hey guys, I met some dude who said there's a really cool waterfall and he said he'll take us there in his truck. Hey why do you have a helmet on?"
Lauren had met an odd-ball 40+ Russian guy who, as luck would have it, also had a bike. So with Lauren on the back of his and me on the back of Shannon's we set off to go speeding up into the mountains.
"And on the way we can stop off at my friends cafe and get some drugs"
Oh. That explains a lot about the Russian then..
So half an hour further up into the mountains and we pulled into a roadside cafe. Or as it turned out, a drug den disguised as a roadside cafe. We were greeted by Andre, a Kiwi who had moved to Thailand when he was 21 and had lived there for the 6 years since selling drugs to travellers. Not a bad lifestyle I imagine. He was cool, he was the guy that five years ago I wanted to be. He took us through the cafe and out into an orchard-like garden. Make yourselves at home, I'll be right with you. Up into a gazebo and into a hammock. Then down onto the cushions. Then back up into a different hammock. I couldn't decide, it was all too comfy. Then Andre returned with a trio of cats following him. One came to sit on me in the hammock.
"This one's cool what's he called?"
"She's called Bitch"
"Huh, nice name"
"Yeah she used to have a nicer one. But then last month se had kittens, but she decided she didn't like them all that much.. so she ate them."
"Fair name then"
Andre then laid out a spread on the floor. Food, booze, pipes, smokes and a big bowl of weed.
"Help yourselves"
"What?"
"Just take what you want, it's free. It's nice to have some company so feel free to just hang out here as long as you want"
So we did. All day. Upon remembering that I'd said that I was English, Andre ran inside and came back out with a big grin on his face and... a cup of tea.
"You, my Kiwi friend, are a genious"
------------------------------------------------------------
"Shit it's pretty dark now, so much for the waterfall"
"You guys have any plans for the night cos there's some hot springs further up the mountain that I could take you to?"
That sounds like a plan to me. Back down to Pai for some dinner, then up to the hot springs for a party.
"So anyway what can I get for you guys then? You name it I've got it"
I'd forgotten that we were there to buy drugs, that Andre was actually a drug dealer and not just a new friend. The girls bout a quarter ounce of week and some opium. The Russian wanted some heroin. Oh. Heroin. No I'm ok thanks.. Lauren & Shannon also passed, citing Shannons past heroin addiction as the reason. Jeez this all just got a bit heavy for my liking... But we arranged to meet Andre later and headed back down to Pai to get some food and supplies to take to the springs.
As we drove down the main street in Pai we spooted Sarah walking along with 3 Dutch guys. The Dutch guys had also rented bikes so we now had 4 more people for our motorbike gang.
"I wanna call us the Heavens Angels"
"No Shannon"
The Russian drove us to a stall in the middle of nowhere to get some food. Noodle soup with pork. Or for vegetarians it's Noodle soup without pork. Huh. Noodle soup with pork it is then. The Russian was weird. He kept dozing off and then waking up and shouting at himself. Then all of a sudden,
"I go now"
"What?"
"I go now, to bed. I go"
Right so now we're stuck in the middle of nowhere and we don't have the guy who knows the way back up to Andre's place. Fuck. Luckily Lauren had put Andre's number in her phone so rang him and he agreed to come half an hour down the mountain just to take us back up again. A genuinely nice guy. A rare breed.
It was that fashionable hour of midnight again when Andre arrived so off we went to go find the hot springs. About an hours drive and we were there.
'Bad news guys, I think it's closed'
Closed? How do you close a hot spring? Oh... oh I see. You mean hot tubs...
Andre then rang his friend who said that he knew of some others than we could use. So we went to meet his friend. Another Russian guy. Another odd-ball.
"What's up with him?"
"Oh he bought some methadone off me this morning so I'd say he's probably tripping off that right now"
So we were following a Russian guy who was up to his eyeballs whilst in charge of a motorbike. Good. I can see no possible problems with this at all.. But it was fine. He got us there.
The sound of our 9-strong motorbike posse woke the owner of the hot tubs up as we rolled into town. My thoughts of 'This is stupid, she's gonna tell us to piss off' were wrong. At 2am she was quite happy to get up, welcome us, and fill and heat the 8 hot tubs up for us.
I had forgotten my swimming shorts. Boxers it is then. 8 of us packed into two hot tubs. Shannon's speakers out of the bag, iPod on, beers cracked open, joints lit. Hot tub party.
"Weren't there 9 of us before?"
"Yeah where's the Russian guy?"
Oh there he is... It appeared the methadone had fully taken hold of him now was he floated in the hot tub furthest away from us singing to himself.
So a hot tub party. Until 4am when the water started getting cold and the beer had dried up. We bid our farewells to Andre and the Russian guy who was still happily floating over in the corner and set off back down the mountain. Oh look there's a bar. Just out of town we found a bar with a fire outside. So we consumed more beer as we sat around the fire until the bar closed at a not-unreasonable 5.30am. Party over? Nah. Back to our cabin for more beer and smokes.
It was about 7.30am when the Dutch guys left. Sarah had left earlier as a result of an intolerance to the large amounts of booze and weed consumed. 7.30. The sun was high in the sky. It was red hot.
"I'm not gonna be able to sleep now"
30 seconds later I was dead to the world.
We never made it to the waterfall. But something tell me we had more fun anyway. Lauren's suggestion that tomorrow we 'get something a little stronger to get fucked up on' wasn't sitting well with me though. Maybe I should leave the girls to it and go find some new friends. Or, heaven forbid, some old neo-nazi style friends?
And when i woke up in the morning (afternoon) to a text from Andy telling me how good the islands were, my decision was made for me.
Friday, 18 March 2011
Chapter 5 : Fishing For Ladyboys
I could do this forever. If money wasn't an issue I would. No base, no home. Just bouncing around from place to place. As long as I can keep track of the football scores, then I don't need anything else. But unfortunately money is an issue. And after just a month of my two year trip, that is becoming far too apparrent. But if you ever get the chance to do this, do it. You don't have to be a free-spirited, nature bumming hippy either. Hell I'm not, I hate hippys. But there's something about wandering around everyday, almost aimlessly, as if with no purpose that nothing else can come close to. Fuck I am starting to sound like a hippy...
The bastard Germans, I had thought when i was flirting with certain death half way up the mountain. I'll die and they'll survive and it will be victory for Germany. Maybe that's what spurred me on. Refusal to lie down to Germania.
It had worked and when I woke the next morning all ill feeling towards their nation had faded. Well not all - I don't think that would ever be possible. To accommodate and to entertain is one thing, but to actually like a German? I'm not so sure.
Downhill walking today. Much better. More jungle so shaded from the sun. Easy day. 2 hours walking whilst I pestered the group with persistant renditions of 'When the lion sleeps tonight' , 'Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go' and a 'Riverside motherfucker'/'We no speak americano' mash-up I had created in my head. That one was Andy's fault. - He mentioned the restaurant we planned to go to that evening for steak : The Riverside. And as is usually the case, one word triggers another in my brain to translate any conversation into some form of music. So when he mentioned riverside, I, without any form of thought process, automatically blurted out 'Riverside Motherfucker'. And that was me away.
The bottom of the mountain. We made it. Now to go bamboo rafting. Or sitting on a bamboo raft whilst a Thai guy steers you around a disappointingly shallow stream. Where the rapids consist of a slight rock from side to side and a wet arse. Adrenaline rush there was not.
"Are there any crocodiles in this river?". "No" . "Damn, no crocodilious"
"Any elephants?" . "No". "Damn, no elephanto"
"Any ladyboys?" . "Maybe"
So that was it, the search was on for the lesser-spotted aquatic ladyboy.
After having to clarify to Vinz that elephanto and crocodilious are not English pronunciations of said animals, I explained that most of what i ramble on about is not common English. I talk shit basically. Not all English people sing and make up words at every given opportunity. So don't bother trying to learn or repeat any of what I say. Except for the part about the bitches. That is gospel.
We didn't catch any ladyboys. I think they're nocturnal.
Back in the van. Back to Chaing Mai. Said goodbye to the other German couple. Shame. Said goodbye to the northern Yank. Shame. Then arranged to meet Sarah later that night on the Rooftop bar.
The Jazz bar was full, disappointingly so off to the Reggae bar again and then, with more educated timing, to the Rooftop bar for just after midnight. We had built quite a group up. And what suprised me was that not one other person was English. - Two Americans, two Germans, one Dutch, two French, two Italians, one Swiss, one Belgian and then me. - and it was great.
But then the bar closed at 2am. So to the 7-11 supermarket down the road which was, confusingly to me, open way past 11. But bollocks, they're not licensed to sell alcohol after 12. Bollocks. But they did. Good boys. Back to Lauren & Shannon's hotel for a party then. Packed ourselves into two tuk-tuks and away we went.
We partied till 4 or 5ish, i can't remember exactly.... Until I once again had to give into the German's fear of anything less than their regimented 8 hours sleep. But it was ok, they were leaving tomorrow. Going back down south to go lay on a beach on an island. And I was going to be shackle free to party all night long.
So to bed. Drunk again. Confused as to how the Germans could go out at 8 and sit until 5am watching everybody else get drunk and not even be tempted to join them. Oh well. Tomorrow I am a German-free zone. Fun is one again permitted. It had been good to meet those guys but I wasn't exactly going to miss their sensible, sober ways.
I had made Andy promise to get drunk with me before he left and he had agreed and feigned some form of enthusiasm towards the idea.
But when it came down to it he had bailed on me.
"I'm too tired"
Bullshit. You're too German.
The bastard Germans, I had thought when i was flirting with certain death half way up the mountain. I'll die and they'll survive and it will be victory for Germany. Maybe that's what spurred me on. Refusal to lie down to Germania.
It had worked and when I woke the next morning all ill feeling towards their nation had faded. Well not all - I don't think that would ever be possible. To accommodate and to entertain is one thing, but to actually like a German? I'm not so sure.
Downhill walking today. Much better. More jungle so shaded from the sun. Easy day. 2 hours walking whilst I pestered the group with persistant renditions of 'When the lion sleeps tonight' , 'Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go' and a 'Riverside motherfucker'/'We no speak americano' mash-up I had created in my head. That one was Andy's fault. - He mentioned the restaurant we planned to go to that evening for steak : The Riverside. And as is usually the case, one word triggers another in my brain to translate any conversation into some form of music. So when he mentioned riverside, I, without any form of thought process, automatically blurted out 'Riverside Motherfucker'. And that was me away.
The bottom of the mountain. We made it. Now to go bamboo rafting. Or sitting on a bamboo raft whilst a Thai guy steers you around a disappointingly shallow stream. Where the rapids consist of a slight rock from side to side and a wet arse. Adrenaline rush there was not.
"Are there any crocodiles in this river?". "No" . "Damn, no crocodilious"
"Any elephants?" . "No". "Damn, no elephanto"
"Any ladyboys?" . "Maybe"
So that was it, the search was on for the lesser-spotted aquatic ladyboy.
After having to clarify to Vinz that elephanto and crocodilious are not English pronunciations of said animals, I explained that most of what i ramble on about is not common English. I talk shit basically. Not all English people sing and make up words at every given opportunity. So don't bother trying to learn or repeat any of what I say. Except for the part about the bitches. That is gospel.
We didn't catch any ladyboys. I think they're nocturnal.
Back in the van. Back to Chaing Mai. Said goodbye to the other German couple. Shame. Said goodbye to the northern Yank. Shame. Then arranged to meet Sarah later that night on the Rooftop bar.
The Jazz bar was full, disappointingly so off to the Reggae bar again and then, with more educated timing, to the Rooftop bar for just after midnight. We had built quite a group up. And what suprised me was that not one other person was English. - Two Americans, two Germans, one Dutch, two French, two Italians, one Swiss, one Belgian and then me. - and it was great.
But then the bar closed at 2am. So to the 7-11 supermarket down the road which was, confusingly to me, open way past 11. But bollocks, they're not licensed to sell alcohol after 12. Bollocks. But they did. Good boys. Back to Lauren & Shannon's hotel for a party then. Packed ourselves into two tuk-tuks and away we went.
We partied till 4 or 5ish, i can't remember exactly.... Until I once again had to give into the German's fear of anything less than their regimented 8 hours sleep. But it was ok, they were leaving tomorrow. Going back down south to go lay on a beach on an island. And I was going to be shackle free to party all night long.
So to bed. Drunk again. Confused as to how the Germans could go out at 8 and sit until 5am watching everybody else get drunk and not even be tempted to join them. Oh well. Tomorrow I am a German-free zone. Fun is one again permitted. It had been good to meet those guys but I wasn't exactly going to miss their sensible, sober ways.
I had made Andy promise to get drunk with me before he left and he had agreed and feigned some form of enthusiasm towards the idea.
But when it came down to it he had bailed on me.
"I'm too tired"
Bullshit. You're too German.
Chapter 4 : Never Trust A Lesbian
No more rain tonight. So no Bangkok Jackass for Simon. I've appeased myself with two large bottles of beer, some crisps (I am not calling them potato chips, I don't care how many Americans I meet) and some local Thai cuisine - a Toblerone. Come to Thailand, live like one of the Thais, eat like one of the Thais. No. Plus 'one of the Thais' sounds too much like 'one of the guys' and where I'm from 'one of the guys' doesn't just turn up one day in a dress and a wig calling himself Leona... Though there is one Australian I know who it wouldn't altogether suprise me if he added the suffix 'tina' to his name...
So there we were. 8am sat in our guesthouse waiting for our taxi to pick us up to take us to what I was sure would be our, or at least my, impending doom.
"You look tired Simon'
"Piss off, you look German"
I felt that a day and a half of knowing these people was long enough to start edging some anti-German war jokes into conversation. Plus my hangover meant I was in no mood to beat around the bush at 8am.
We sat there under the watchful eye of the guesthouse owner, who was trying to work out what we were waiting for and why we hadn't booked any trips with his company yet. Then our taxi arrived, bearing the logo of the rival cheaper company we had booked with. As we loaded up into the van we could hear shouting of what I'm going to assume were expletives from the guesthouse staff directed towards us. And then I heard something stranger. The sound of laughter. But it wasn't my laughter. It was the Germans'... I was, until now, under the impression that Germans had not developed this basic human function or had at least had it drilled out of them at a young age when their parents caught them trying to have this alien concept called fun. But not only that, they were laughing at the same thing I was. The English and the Germans laughing along together? I know somebody who'll be turning in his testicle-shy grave.
----Turns out Germans don't understand why we reference and joke about Sir Adolf so much. Was it because you lost so you've decided to pretend it never happened? And when you mention Auschwitz? Jeeze it was like I'd gone out in public and make a joke about Auschwitz.. ..Oh wait...----
Off we drove then to pick up the rest of our group. This was the part I was looking forward to. The only part. I'd noticed when we signed up for the trip that the two names above ours were-
Nationality: Swedish. Gender: F.
Result.
First pick up: Canadian guy. Canadians = Americans. Don't let them fool you. They're just as loud and brash. But apparently that's not a funny thing to say either. However
"Hi, I'm Sebastian. I'm Canadian and I am NOT an alcoholic"
supposedly is. I had to be reminded of what he said because all I heard was:
"Hi, I'm Sebastian. I'm a big fat Yank and I'm a dick"
Next pick up: Belgian Chick. -- Possible lesbian, definite hippy. Called Sarah. Easy enough to remember then.
Last pick up, here come my sexy Swedish babes...: A German couple. What? A middle-aged German couple. Not two twenty-something Swedes. A middle-aged f'in German couple.
"No sorry we already have enough Germans thankyou"
"Aha ha ha ha"
I wasn't laughing. No Swedes for Simon. Just some Krauts, A Yank and a dyke. My enthusiasm was soaring.
Riding in the back of a truck. This was my kind of trekking.
"Can we not just drive up the mountain instead?"
"Oh Simon, you English joke all the time, you're never serious!"
Yes... joke...
First stop - Elephant riding. Me, Vinz and Andy sat on an elephants back whilst it gets hit with a stick to walk a certain route and stabbed with some form of pick-axe when it tries to venture off course. Wow this is fun. And please Mr Elephant, stop trying to eat my face with your trunk.I understand you're hungry but I'd rather you didn't spray me with the residue of all thhe shit you've eaten toady. Are we done yet? Good.
Right, back in the truck. Looks positive. This trekking ain't so bad after all. Oh no wait we're getting out again. Time to start walking.
"Pretty hot today, huh"
"35degrees"
Oh goody. Jade f'in Goody. And then it got steep. Up and almost verticle slope in broad sunlight. We hadn't even walked for 10 minutes and we had to stop for a rest. Everybody was out of breath, nobody spoke. My face was already dripping, my shirt already adhering to my back. Another 10 minutes up and we stopped again.
"You said this was gonna be easy Sarah'
I knew i should never have trusted a lesbian.
Three hours we walked for in 35 degree heat in the middle of the day. I've never sweated so much in my life. I was like Fernando Torres at a Gerry & The Pacemakers reunion concert, praying that they don't play that one song. I genuinely thought I was going to die. Only my trusty apples from the market that morning saw me through. But we got there. A few stone lighter due to the sweat but we got there.
There, as it was, was a tribal village on the mountain top that our tour guides belonged to. A hut looking down the side of the mountain was our domain. So we sat. We rested. We showered - or poured cold water over ourselves anyway. The tribes people made our dinner and as the sun went down, they made us a fire to sit around. Suddenly it was worth it. All that effort. Worth every drip of sweat. Then the children from the tribe came to sing us a song as we sat round the fire and swilled the beer that just happened to be in a cooler in the middle of a tribe with no other source of electricity. I like their priorities.
--You can only have one piece of electrical equipment for your tribe. What would you like?
Erm I'll take a beer cooler please----
I can relate to these people.
In return for the children's song the protocol as it turned out was to sing a song back to them. Great. What do we all know? Shit. Notice how the Yank has piped down all of a sudden. Ok it'll have to be Old Macdonald had a farm. Everyone knows that one right? Yeah ok. Right we'll go pig, cow, finish, ok? Right, on 3...
Useless. Nothing from the Yank (not necessarily a bad thing), some clapping and murmering from the Germans and some effort but not much else from the rug-muncher. And so it was. Simon singing Old Macdonald to a group of half-clad kids by a fire on a mountain top in Thailand. That's a new one for my resume. But had I known that i was going to be the only one with a the balls to actually sing then maybe Delilah would have been rembling through the jungle that night, rather than Old Macdonald had a bastard farm. Useless. The bloody lot of them.
So I sat drinking with Sarah until the fire died out and decided to hit the sack. More walking tomorrow. But downhill, sounds much better. Still, wasn't having a repeat of that days hangover though so my restrained 3 beers was a bit disappointing for the setting. But probably for the best.
"Goodnight Jungle"
"Goodnight Simon"
"Wait.. what?"
** Note : Sarah is not really a lesbian. She is a very nice, good person. And as everybody knows, lesbians are bad people.
So there we were. 8am sat in our guesthouse waiting for our taxi to pick us up to take us to what I was sure would be our, or at least my, impending doom.
"You look tired Simon'
"Piss off, you look German"
I felt that a day and a half of knowing these people was long enough to start edging some anti-German war jokes into conversation. Plus my hangover meant I was in no mood to beat around the bush at 8am.
We sat there under the watchful eye of the guesthouse owner, who was trying to work out what we were waiting for and why we hadn't booked any trips with his company yet. Then our taxi arrived, bearing the logo of the rival cheaper company we had booked with. As we loaded up into the van we could hear shouting of what I'm going to assume were expletives from the guesthouse staff directed towards us. And then I heard something stranger. The sound of laughter. But it wasn't my laughter. It was the Germans'... I was, until now, under the impression that Germans had not developed this basic human function or had at least had it drilled out of them at a young age when their parents caught them trying to have this alien concept called fun. But not only that, they were laughing at the same thing I was. The English and the Germans laughing along together? I know somebody who'll be turning in his testicle-shy grave.
----Turns out Germans don't understand why we reference and joke about Sir Adolf so much. Was it because you lost so you've decided to pretend it never happened? And when you mention Auschwitz? Jeeze it was like I'd gone out in public and make a joke about Auschwitz.. ..Oh wait...----
Off we drove then to pick up the rest of our group. This was the part I was looking forward to. The only part. I'd noticed when we signed up for the trip that the two names above ours were-
Nationality: Swedish. Gender: F.
Result.
First pick up: Canadian guy. Canadians = Americans. Don't let them fool you. They're just as loud and brash. But apparently that's not a funny thing to say either. However
"Hi, I'm Sebastian. I'm Canadian and I am NOT an alcoholic"
supposedly is. I had to be reminded of what he said because all I heard was:
"Hi, I'm Sebastian. I'm a big fat Yank and I'm a dick"
Next pick up: Belgian Chick. -- Possible lesbian, definite hippy. Called Sarah. Easy enough to remember then.
Last pick up, here come my sexy Swedish babes...: A German couple. What? A middle-aged German couple. Not two twenty-something Swedes. A middle-aged f'in German couple.
"No sorry we already have enough Germans thankyou"
"Aha ha ha ha"
I wasn't laughing. No Swedes for Simon. Just some Krauts, A Yank and a dyke. My enthusiasm was soaring.
Riding in the back of a truck. This was my kind of trekking.
"Can we not just drive up the mountain instead?"
"Oh Simon, you English joke all the time, you're never serious!"
Yes... joke...
First stop - Elephant riding. Me, Vinz and Andy sat on an elephants back whilst it gets hit with a stick to walk a certain route and stabbed with some form of pick-axe when it tries to venture off course. Wow this is fun. And please Mr Elephant, stop trying to eat my face with your trunk.I understand you're hungry but I'd rather you didn't spray me with the residue of all thhe shit you've eaten toady. Are we done yet? Good.
Right, back in the truck. Looks positive. This trekking ain't so bad after all. Oh no wait we're getting out again. Time to start walking.
"Pretty hot today, huh"
"35degrees"
Oh goody. Jade f'in Goody. And then it got steep. Up and almost verticle slope in broad sunlight. We hadn't even walked for 10 minutes and we had to stop for a rest. Everybody was out of breath, nobody spoke. My face was already dripping, my shirt already adhering to my back. Another 10 minutes up and we stopped again.
"You said this was gonna be easy Sarah'
I knew i should never have trusted a lesbian.
Three hours we walked for in 35 degree heat in the middle of the day. I've never sweated so much in my life. I was like Fernando Torres at a Gerry & The Pacemakers reunion concert, praying that they don't play that one song. I genuinely thought I was going to die. Only my trusty apples from the market that morning saw me through. But we got there. A few stone lighter due to the sweat but we got there.
There, as it was, was a tribal village on the mountain top that our tour guides belonged to. A hut looking down the side of the mountain was our domain. So we sat. We rested. We showered - or poured cold water over ourselves anyway. The tribes people made our dinner and as the sun went down, they made us a fire to sit around. Suddenly it was worth it. All that effort. Worth every drip of sweat. Then the children from the tribe came to sing us a song as we sat round the fire and swilled the beer that just happened to be in a cooler in the middle of a tribe with no other source of electricity. I like their priorities.
--You can only have one piece of electrical equipment for your tribe. What would you like?
Erm I'll take a beer cooler please----
I can relate to these people.
In return for the children's song the protocol as it turned out was to sing a song back to them. Great. What do we all know? Shit. Notice how the Yank has piped down all of a sudden. Ok it'll have to be Old Macdonald had a farm. Everyone knows that one right? Yeah ok. Right we'll go pig, cow, finish, ok? Right, on 3...
Useless. Nothing from the Yank (not necessarily a bad thing), some clapping and murmering from the Germans and some effort but not much else from the rug-muncher. And so it was. Simon singing Old Macdonald to a group of half-clad kids by a fire on a mountain top in Thailand. That's a new one for my resume. But had I known that i was going to be the only one with a the balls to actually sing then maybe Delilah would have been rembling through the jungle that night, rather than Old Macdonald had a bastard farm. Useless. The bloody lot of them.
So I sat drinking with Sarah until the fire died out and decided to hit the sack. More walking tomorrow. But downhill, sounds much better. Still, wasn't having a repeat of that days hangover though so my restrained 3 beers was a bit disappointing for the setting. But probably for the best.
"Goodnight Jungle"
"Goodnight Simon"
"Wait.. what?"
** Note : Sarah is not really a lesbian. She is a very nice, good person. And as everybody knows, lesbians are bad people.
Thursday, 17 March 2011
Chapter 3 ; World War III
When it rains in Bangkok, it fucking rains. Major storm tonight. Heavier rain than I've ever seen, louder thunder than I've ever heard, and lightning bolt after lightning bolt. Tried to go for a smoke but there's no chance of that happening. I'm in my room seven doors down from the smoking balcony (as I've christened it) and I can still hear the rain bouncing in the street. I hope Japan hasn't exploded. Maybe that wasn't thunder I could hear, maybe that was Tokyo..- Shit. That was the best storm I've ever seen. Went downstairs to see it properly. Hundreds of people hiding in bars and doorways. The normally packed Khao San Road, like a ghost town. But that's no fun. So I came back upstairs, put on my swimming shorts, a dirty shirt and some sandals and grabbed my camera. - I was going to go for a walk in the storm and make a : "Hi, I'm Simon Hingston and this is Bangkok Jackass" video.
But back downstairs and fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The rain's stopped. Everyone's happy. Not Simon. Simon's not happy. Simon's angry. Simon's stood in the middle of the indian restaurant I'm staying above in swimming shorts for no apparent reason. Fucker. Maybe Later.
After an all too brief sleep on the train we arrived in Chiang Mai. And has a pleasant suprise had no hangover to boot. We got off the train and said our goodbyes and arranged to meet in the rooftop bar that night. I say arranged, it was more that the girls screamed it at us as they wandered off with their huge, wheeled suitcases in tow. Nodody else knew of a bar on a rooftop. But as luck would have it, it was called The Rooftop Bar. So pretty simple really. The girls had their accommodation booked, as did Lek who was in Chiang Mai for an 8-day Kung Fu course. I, however, who was much more likely to be in Chaing Mai for an 8-day drinking course, did not have any accommodation booked. But nor did the Germans. Could I? Was it possible? Two Germans and one Englishman living together in perfect harmony? Two non-drinking Germans and a borderline alcoholic Englishman? But before I had chance to think, Andy had agreed with one of the touts that we'd take a room for three at his guest house for 500baht per night. 500baht = 10 of the queen's finest. 3.66 per person. And it had a pool.. I couldn't say no to that.
So there it was, the perfect script for a sitcom.
My visions of sitting by the pool, drinking all day were misguided though. The reason the room was so cheap was beacuse they run their own trekking and expedition company and expect you to pay their exaggerated prices to even out for the rooms. And as I should have guessed, the teetotal, sporty Germans (Vinz plays baseball and Andy plays basketball: two original German sports) wanted to go trekking. Why? It's hot, why would i want to climb a mountain? This weather only accommodates swimming, alcohol and (being British) a legendary sunburn.
But the Germans are also savvy. So we were to walk to the tourism office to get cheaper trekking and not tell the guest house. I say we, I was going to the tourism office with one fixed agenda. (And it did not involve walking up a mountain in tropical heat) My agenda was to locate this fabled rooftop bar.So we went to the tourism office and the nice lady (or bitch as I taught the Germans to say when referring to any female. England 1, Germany 0.) gave us maps of the city. On the German's maps she circled Chinatown, the night market, some nice restaurants etc. And on my map she kindly circled my requested destinations. So half way across the globe I have a map for a city I had never even heard of before with just 3 essential markings on it for me to navigate from: The Jazz Bar, The Reggae Bar, and of course, The Rooftop Bar. I was, and i have never used this word before, stoked. That was my week planned out right there. Is it time to go yet? I had my day mapped out in my head. Back to the guest house - pool - dinner- Jazz bar - Reggae bar - Rooftop bar - coma.
Then the Germans (they do have names, I know but it's easier and funnier for me to refer to them as ze Germans) for some reason started flashing itineries and pictures of elephants and mountains at me. What? What do you want from me? (I was already mentally in the reggae bar, skanking with a beer in hand.) For some reason the Germans had decided that I would enjoy going on the trek with them. Why yes I can see how you've gauged from my athletic exterior that I would class walking and rafting amongst my hobbies. But they convinced me. Somehow convinced me that hiking was a good idea. There was a brief standoff but I had given in. It was like a mental re-enactment of the second (or first - we won them both!) world war. Only this time the Germans won. So it was actually more like a football match. So that was that. The next day I was going to be climbing a mountain. Great. Meine lieblingsfach.
The nice lady then recommended that I gave the bars a miss for the night as a 9am start trekking up a mountain wasn't made any easier with a hangover. I joked that I would go anyway because I was tough but then promised that I would heed her advice and have a quiet night in. I lied. I went to the bars. I got drunk. I did climb the mountain with a stinking hangover. And unlike me, she had not lied, it wasn't made any easier.
But we had had to go to the bars. We had no other means of contact with the Cali girls, Lek or the frogs so had to go find them that night. And it was WE. I forced my new sober, schnitzel eating friends to come with me and sit drinking coke all night whilst I steadily got drunk to an array of suprisingly decent Bob Marley covers in the Reggae bar.Then on to the Rooftop bar. We bumped into lek by chance, though he is pretty hard to miss, so he became my drinking buddy whilst the cola swigging gang had their sober conversations about sauerkraut or antisemitism or whatever it is Germans talk about. So the rooftop.
"Is this the right one?"
"Well it's a bar on a rooftop and it's called the Rooftop Bar so if it's not the right one then we can count ourselves pretty unlucky"
"But it's nearly midnight and they're not here, plus we've got to get up in 7 hours. So we should just go"
"Boys, boys, boys. These are Californian girls we're meeting. It wouldn't be fashionable to turn up to a party before 12. Have you not seen The O.C?"
And as if time were based around their entrance, Midnight arrived and it brought two sexy Californian ladies along with it as a gift for those still able to see at that hour. (Also it brought two hairy French guys... though I'm not sure of the intention there.) So we partied. Or we started anyway. But then at 2am I finally gave into the Germans tears of tiredness and fear of only 5 hours sleep.
"I don't know what you're so bothered about. You get 5 hours sleep and wake up a bit tired. I get 5 hours sleep and wake up with a stinking hangover. And do i look like I want to go to bed??"
Alcohol is a wonderful thing.
Hangovers and hindsight, however, are not.
But back downstairs and fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The rain's stopped. Everyone's happy. Not Simon. Simon's not happy. Simon's angry. Simon's stood in the middle of the indian restaurant I'm staying above in swimming shorts for no apparent reason. Fucker. Maybe Later.
After an all too brief sleep on the train we arrived in Chiang Mai. And has a pleasant suprise had no hangover to boot. We got off the train and said our goodbyes and arranged to meet in the rooftop bar that night. I say arranged, it was more that the girls screamed it at us as they wandered off with their huge, wheeled suitcases in tow. Nodody else knew of a bar on a rooftop. But as luck would have it, it was called The Rooftop Bar. So pretty simple really. The girls had their accommodation booked, as did Lek who was in Chiang Mai for an 8-day Kung Fu course. I, however, who was much more likely to be in Chaing Mai for an 8-day drinking course, did not have any accommodation booked. But nor did the Germans. Could I? Was it possible? Two Germans and one Englishman living together in perfect harmony? Two non-drinking Germans and a borderline alcoholic Englishman? But before I had chance to think, Andy had agreed with one of the touts that we'd take a room for three at his guest house for 500baht per night. 500baht = 10 of the queen's finest. 3.66 per person. And it had a pool.. I couldn't say no to that.
So there it was, the perfect script for a sitcom.
My visions of sitting by the pool, drinking all day were misguided though. The reason the room was so cheap was beacuse they run their own trekking and expedition company and expect you to pay their exaggerated prices to even out for the rooms. And as I should have guessed, the teetotal, sporty Germans (Vinz plays baseball and Andy plays basketball: two original German sports) wanted to go trekking. Why? It's hot, why would i want to climb a mountain? This weather only accommodates swimming, alcohol and (being British) a legendary sunburn.
But the Germans are also savvy. So we were to walk to the tourism office to get cheaper trekking and not tell the guest house. I say we, I was going to the tourism office with one fixed agenda. (And it did not involve walking up a mountain in tropical heat) My agenda was to locate this fabled rooftop bar.So we went to the tourism office and the nice lady (or bitch as I taught the Germans to say when referring to any female. England 1, Germany 0.) gave us maps of the city. On the German's maps she circled Chinatown, the night market, some nice restaurants etc. And on my map she kindly circled my requested destinations. So half way across the globe I have a map for a city I had never even heard of before with just 3 essential markings on it for me to navigate from: The Jazz Bar, The Reggae Bar, and of course, The Rooftop Bar. I was, and i have never used this word before, stoked. That was my week planned out right there. Is it time to go yet? I had my day mapped out in my head. Back to the guest house - pool - dinner- Jazz bar - Reggae bar - Rooftop bar - coma.
Then the Germans (they do have names, I know but it's easier and funnier for me to refer to them as ze Germans) for some reason started flashing itineries and pictures of elephants and mountains at me. What? What do you want from me? (I was already mentally in the reggae bar, skanking with a beer in hand.) For some reason the Germans had decided that I would enjoy going on the trek with them. Why yes I can see how you've gauged from my athletic exterior that I would class walking and rafting amongst my hobbies. But they convinced me. Somehow convinced me that hiking was a good idea. There was a brief standoff but I had given in. It was like a mental re-enactment of the second (or first - we won them both!) world war. Only this time the Germans won. So it was actually more like a football match. So that was that. The next day I was going to be climbing a mountain. Great. Meine lieblingsfach.
The nice lady then recommended that I gave the bars a miss for the night as a 9am start trekking up a mountain wasn't made any easier with a hangover. I joked that I would go anyway because I was tough but then promised that I would heed her advice and have a quiet night in. I lied. I went to the bars. I got drunk. I did climb the mountain with a stinking hangover. And unlike me, she had not lied, it wasn't made any easier.
But we had had to go to the bars. We had no other means of contact with the Cali girls, Lek or the frogs so had to go find them that night. And it was WE. I forced my new sober, schnitzel eating friends to come with me and sit drinking coke all night whilst I steadily got drunk to an array of suprisingly decent Bob Marley covers in the Reggae bar.Then on to the Rooftop bar. We bumped into lek by chance, though he is pretty hard to miss, so he became my drinking buddy whilst the cola swigging gang had their sober conversations about sauerkraut or antisemitism or whatever it is Germans talk about. So the rooftop.
"Is this the right one?"
"Well it's a bar on a rooftop and it's called the Rooftop Bar so if it's not the right one then we can count ourselves pretty unlucky"
"But it's nearly midnight and they're not here, plus we've got to get up in 7 hours. So we should just go"
"Boys, boys, boys. These are Californian girls we're meeting. It wouldn't be fashionable to turn up to a party before 12. Have you not seen The O.C?"
And as if time were based around their entrance, Midnight arrived and it brought two sexy Californian ladies along with it as a gift for those still able to see at that hour. (Also it brought two hairy French guys... though I'm not sure of the intention there.) So we partied. Or we started anyway. But then at 2am I finally gave into the Germans tears of tiredness and fear of only 5 hours sleep.
"I don't know what you're so bothered about. You get 5 hours sleep and wake up a bit tired. I get 5 hours sleep and wake up with a stinking hangover. And do i look like I want to go to bed??"
Alcohol is a wonderful thing.
Hangovers and hindsight, however, are not.
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