South East Asia – Part 3: Hucksters and mooks
Pack it up, pack it in, let me begin,
Hmmm, where were we…let’s pick it up back in Bangkok. When we last left our beleaguered hero, he was floundering incredulously amidst the teeming shills, hucksters and mooks of Bangkok….
After a few days, however, I acquired my “Bangkok legs” and eased into the Thai life. ON the 9th of March, I left Rey and Clara to try their luck at the Weekend Big Market. “what’s that?” I asked cluelessly. “Well,” says Clara, ” its a really big market they have on the weekend.” Top marks to Sykes for being so incredibly astute. Having more than enough crap in my bag to tide me over for the next two months, I chose instead to take in a ferry on the Mae Nam Chao Phraya. After warding off the various con-artists, I sauntered on to the standing-room only boat and away we went.
Man, I don’t know exactly what kind of biohazardous, industrial sludge they’re dumping into this river but it made the LaBrea Tarpits look like Lake Lucerne. And there are kids swimming and fishing in this thing! Time to cut back on the seafood platters while in Bangkok. Yugh.
The ferry did provide a refreshing refuge from the carbon-monoxide laden streets and I befriended an English guy and some Swedish babes (note- as photographic evidence will later attest to, not all Swedish girls are blonde, buxom, blue-eyed and all around hot). We ended up (and I blame the English guy…total wanker) as being the last folks off the boat and were hurried off into the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, Bangkok. What the hell, let’s explore (intrepid as we are)

Now the Swedish bikini team is hungry, I’m wanting a beer and pudgy James, who’s perspiring like he just ran the Sun Run in a Grimmace costume (actually picture that, it’s kind of amusing) won’t settle for anywhere without aircon. “You limey priss,” is all I’m thinking but eventually we find a joint that suits his proper, refined tastes. Do yourself a favour kids, never ask a British guy about soccer unless you have at least 3 hours free to listen to him argue back and forth with himself about the all-time best British eleven.
We ended up going out drinking (for a pittance) and said our fond farewells. I decided that after such a good day, it’d be best to blow town the next day lest I once again become disenchanted with BAngkok’s downside. No sooner had I thought this than I felt a rubbing on my arm, accompanied by a husky-sounding “You come home with me.” I glanced to my right to ascertain what had attached itself to me to discover a rather convincing transsexual whore. “Gaaaa!”, I screamed and beat the thing off me. Hey, I’m openminded and all and, I mean, do your own thing but I swear I could feel the STD’s transferring transdermally to me. Good tiiiimes, hoooboy.
The next night, I boarded a bus for Koh Tao in the south, for a little learn-to-dive action. The bus was nice and I met a nice, albeit typically rough around the edges Edmontonian. We exchanged stories, talked hockey (note-if you ever want to shut up a locquacious Swede, just mention Olympic hockey) adn he gave me some good travel advice.
At 7:00am we got on a fast-ferry for Koh Tao. This is the point in the story where it goes from “Yeah, I’m having an awesome time” to “It was nice knowing you all now please sell all my stuff and send me the cash cause I’m never coming back.”
Seriously though, crossing out over the gulf of Thailand as the sun came up, every question I had was answered, everydoubt cast aside and all clothing except for the few threads that make me morally acceptable by western standards were forgotten forever. While the words ‘shirt’, ‘shoes’, ‘pants’ and ‘underwear’ still exist in my vocabulary, I no longer have any idea what any of them mean.
Just to interject, Travel tip #1: Never sit downwind of a seasick Danish guy on a ferry. Dear Lord. So, I’m kicking back on the deck, relaxing without the proverbial care in the world when I feel some moist droplets on my face. “Ahhh,” I think, “the sea spray on my face sure feels nice.” I open my eyes to see Olaf bazooka-barfing over the side and I’m catching more of it than I want. Snap! “hey, dude, I’m sorry you’re sick and all but let me know next time adn I’ll move.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, ” he croaks before releasing some more of his spicy Thai breakfast. Fine, poor guy, I mop up and let it go. This guy’s biggest sea-going experience prior to this was probably the bumper boats at Euro-Disney. So this proceeds to happen not once but twice more. No warning whatsoever from this dude. I mean, was there ever so ample a dunce? Learning my lesson, I move positions and watch in glee as he continues to wretch. I haven’t seem such a miserable Dane since Mel Gibson in Hamlet.
Anyway, rather than bore you with the excruciating minutiae (as I have been)of every day since I arrived, I’ll try to sum up a typical day here on the island.
1. Wakeup, usually around 7:00 am in my privatem twin bed bungalow (30 metres from the beach), shower, enjoy the pleasantries offerd by the lovely squat toilets, do some reading as the sun comes up on my patio and motor off for a pineapple pancake (approx $1.00 CAN), wash it down with some 30 cent bottled water and scoot over to class. Class consists of watching dive videos, learning dive theory and writing little quizzes.
Break for lunch at about noon, go for a quick dip in the clear water, underlaid by light creamy colored, fine-grained sand (watch for coral!!) Mosey up to a beachside bar/restaurant, order crazy thai curry for about 2 bucks and a papaya shake for a buck. Back to class, gear up and dive for 3 hours (more on this later). At four, cruise back to the bungalow, grab a book, hit the hammock and admire/ogle the topless, bethonged Scandanavians whilst pretending to read said book. Swim and explore for a bit, grab Daryl (the Edmonton guy) and motor into town for $1.00 seafood on rice and some beer. Back for a nap, then out to the bar for some dancin’ in the 4-1 girl to guy ratio clubs. Woot, woot!!
Now, as I’m diving, I raelly can’t drink but man, that does nothing to stand in the way of my fully enjoying my time here. Anyway, back to bed at about two.
2. Rinse
3. Repeat
A few random thoughts and notes. (I hope you’re in a comfy chair):
Now, I’m not a motorbike guy, never have been, didn’t understand the appeal. I rented one of these bikes at Daryl’s insistance at 8:00pm (dark, dark, no streetlights), having never ridden one before in my life and proceeded to “ride” down the bumpiest, scariest, most opposite of “paved” road I’ve ever witnessed. Keep in mind there are no helmets here, no licenses needed and the only traffic law I can discern is that they ride on the wrong side of the road. Can’t recall a better time. I can see now why chicks love motorcycle dudes and I intend to get one as soon as possible. Booooooo-yah!!!
Scuba: I don’t know how many of you have done this or if you’ve even thought about it but DAMN! What a blast! Get off your ever-widening asses and move-it on down to your local dive shop for an experience that I can’t even begin to describe here. (luckily for you) I almost stepped on a baby stingray today!! Brain coral, parrotfish, seacucumbers…..blah, blah, blah. Dont’ go another summer without doing this is all I’m trying to say. Only drawback..so you think you get prune hands when you wash the dishes? Half hour under water and you’re resembling the old lady from Titanic. I’ll never let go, Jack.
I’ve been in this internet placey forever and I really awnt to go party but I’ll close this out by saying if there are any of you out there looking to get away in the near future and don’t know where to go or maybe you’re a little nervous about potential dangers in non-white people, non-English speaking, non-toilet-using countries, I urge you, no beg you, to come to SE Asia. You’ll have no regrets whatsoever and if you do, I give you full permission to administer an hour’s worth of dreaded “rear admirals” to me while singing Destiny’s Child tunes and pouring salt in my eyes. I can’t believe you’re not all here right now.
Thanks for enduring this long-winded chapter, best to you all, keep writing and I’ll talk to you soon.
Hugs and kisses (excluding the males),
-dj-Commodore’s Log
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