So I'm off now, taking an airplane, not a 40 hour bus journey, way way down south almost to the Malaysian border - no fighting, trouble not - to Songkhla province to the rubber factory transport hub of Hat Yai. What awaits me there? Buildings, roads, Chinese food, Malaysian tourists, not a lot of falang folk to Starbucks up the place. I have a job at the International School of Hat Yai, starting Tuesday.
woo!
Pumpkins are in season, the tastiest vegetable on this earth. Raw chocolate cake and veg soup tomorrow night at Giant Guesthouse, all us mucky hippy intellectual types will be scarfing down the deliciousness in the communal kitchen after a Doi Suthep wonder tour.
Showing posts with label accommodation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label accommodation. Show all posts
Thursday, 20 October 2011
Tuesday, 6 September 2011
Khao San Cats All Have Kinks in Their Tails
I am still alive. Ever sweaty, insatiably peckish, bug-eyed tourist am I.
Thailand so far has been a rush of new things; noises, smells, cats and dogs and people all living together on the street, everything going all night.
On the sky train ride from the airport I saw people trying to grow rice under freeway bridges and building sites, living in burnt out cars or corrugated iron villages. Being the only white kid on the bus makes me feel smug and cultured, even when stuck in 4 lanes of traffic for 20 minutes without moving. Scooters are always at the head of the traffic jam, weaving around taxis and tuk tuks, and a huge crew of them take off in a spume of exhaust when the light goes green.
On the first night, I went to bed at 8pm and woke up at 1am. Jetlag dug its talons into my inner alarm clock, and pushed me out onto Khao San Road. I found two French boys crouching in an alleyway, and we talked about festivals. We went to a bar - a metal cart on the street full of ice and beer with a stereo and plastic stools surrounding it - and shouted to everyone to sit with us. We amassed:
• a Greek woman who worked in MRI in Athens and had left her travel buddy sleeping in the hostel.
• a burly Polish man who shook everybody's hand twice and laughed with gusto.
• a beautiful Japanese boy who refuelled airplanes for a living and was just stopping for the night before moving on to Nepal, where he was going to live in a monastery. He had no hair at all, and I thought about asking him if he got a lot of grit in his eyes.
• A talkative Thai named Mozz who gave me the address of Overstay, where you pay 80 baht a night (42THB = £1) and there are parties and art and hippies. I'm like, hell yeah, see you tomorrow my friend.
As soon as I leave the screaming neon Khao San Rd, the food is better, the other Europeans have vanished, and no one is trying to sell you a tattoo or a suit or a driving license or a bashed up hat that says I <3 Thailand. People's front rooms double as a store front, and everybody's kitchen is outside on a wheeled metal cart. Vendors sleep in their stalls, with a skinny guard dog outside. I saw a man climb into a cupboard plastered with posters, statues and garlands for Buddha, with a tiny mattress where he curled up and shut the doors.
Thailand so far has been a rush of new things; noises, smells, cats and dogs and people all living together on the street, everything going all night.
On the sky train ride from the airport I saw people trying to grow rice under freeway bridges and building sites, living in burnt out cars or corrugated iron villages. Being the only white kid on the bus makes me feel smug and cultured, even when stuck in 4 lanes of traffic for 20 minutes without moving. Scooters are always at the head of the traffic jam, weaving around taxis and tuk tuks, and a huge crew of them take off in a spume of exhaust when the light goes green.
On the first night, I went to bed at 8pm and woke up at 1am. Jetlag dug its talons into my inner alarm clock, and pushed me out onto Khao San Road. I found two French boys crouching in an alleyway, and we talked about festivals. We went to a bar - a metal cart on the street full of ice and beer with a stereo and plastic stools surrounding it - and shouted to everyone to sit with us. We amassed:
• a Greek woman who worked in MRI in Athens and had left her travel buddy sleeping in the hostel.
• a burly Polish man who shook everybody's hand twice and laughed with gusto.
• a beautiful Japanese boy who refuelled airplanes for a living and was just stopping for the night before moving on to Nepal, where he was going to live in a monastery. He had no hair at all, and I thought about asking him if he got a lot of grit in his eyes.
• A talkative Thai named Mozz who gave me the address of Overstay, where you pay 80 baht a night (42THB = £1) and there are parties and art and hippies. I'm like, hell yeah, see you tomorrow my friend.
As soon as I leave the screaming neon Khao San Rd, the food is better, the other Europeans have vanished, and no one is trying to sell you a tattoo or a suit or a driving license or a bashed up hat that says I <3 Thailand. People's front rooms double as a store front, and everybody's kitchen is outside on a wheeled metal cart. Vendors sleep in their stalls, with a skinny guard dog outside. I saw a man climb into a cupboard plastered with posters, statues and garlands for Buddha, with a tiny mattress where he curled up and shut the doors.
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