Hey there! It's been a while. Not that I've been lazy! At
least, no more than usual. No, it's because I was in the Himalayas without a
PC. Yeah, I know I said I'd put up a "gone fishin'" interlude post
but...that never happened. (*Cough.*)
If you're wondering about my Everest Base Camp blog/podcast
"spectacular" (and I don't use those quotation marks lightly),
that'll be up shortly; the audio (all 7+[!] hours of it) is all uploaded
online; I just need to get the post organized. And once it's up, this entire
paragraph will be rendered obsolete!
Speaking about obsolescence, how about me? Hey, remember
that I was in Singapore? Of course not, because that just happened. I was
planning on writing from Singapore (being, like Hong Kong, one of those places that
just needs a single name, no "City, Country" format required), but as
I'll explain in a bit more detail later, I have three options of things to do
on this trip - planning to do things, doing things, and reviewing things I've
done (either by writing or sorting through photos). My time in Singapore was
mainly spent on the first two. But why take my word for it? Let's get into the
haps for what happened since I left Kathmandu!
First off, the flight from Kathmandu to the quick layover in
Kuala Lumpur was not what I was expecting. Ash - one of the people from the
Everest Base Camp trek, who was on his way back to Melbourne - had told me that
his flight over had been on a small plane, one so small that it would not even
be able to accommodate my luggage in the overhead bin. As such, I figured I
couldn't really do much but surrender my larger bag at the airport. But, lo and
behold, it was in fact a pretty large plane, with more space than necessary. In
fact, the overhead compartment above me was only half-filled when we took off.
I crinkled my nose at the thought that now I had to wait at the airport to pick
up my bag, but the deed was done, so there was no going back. The flight itself
was fine; I spent the first portion of it trying to find something to watch in
the entertainment system (I started off with The Illusionist, then realized about two minutes in that I'd seen
it before - not a good sign that I'd completely forgotten it, and then watched
a Tim Burton/Johnny Depp/Helena Bonham Carter movie called, I think, Dark Shadows. It was...fine. I'd never
pay money for it, but for something to pass the time while eating my in-flight
meal, it fit the bill), and then spent a somewhat larger portion taking a nap,
which I needed more than I probably realized. Before I realized it, I was in
Kuala Lumpur.
After getting out of the gate, I immediately lost sight of
Ash (who was half-a-plane ahead of me). He had mentioned that he didn't really
like people, and he was a bit dour at times (and I say that as someone who
liked the guy), but I thought maybe he'd wait to say a quick goodbye. Nope, no
such luck. C'est la vie. I made my way through the airport (which was way nicer
than I was expecting, much like the airline - I don't know, maybe I have been
mixing up Malaysia with some other country?), and found my gate. After a fairly
short wait (20 minutes, perhaps), we began boarding, and damn, for a 55-minute
flight, the plane was enormous. It
was one of those 65-row jobs, each with eight or so seats. I guess Singapore
airlines mostly does international travel (because it sure can't do domestic),
and so really has no room for small planes on their fleet. But either way, a
55-minute flight is still a 55-minute flight; you got a single drink, and they
didn't even bother to pass out the proprietary headphones needed to use the
in-flight entertainment. I just spent the time reading more of Cat's Cradle until we landed.
Upon getting to the Singapore airport, I rushed. Lord, did I
rush. I wanted to make sure I arrived at the baggage carousel before it started
moving. Call me paranoid - I would - but the fact that there's so little
oversight about what bags you pick up just makes me nervous about strangers
eyeing my stuff. Also, it was already 9:30; I wanted to eat and get to the
hostel as early as possible. So, I went through immigration quickly and got to
the carousel, where I stood about seven feet from the opening port. Literally,
I would be the first person to see and react to any bag coming through. And
come through, they did. The first two were a large pink bag and a broken white
plastic one. There were then some other, less memorable ones. I waited some
time, and saw the pink one and broken one come through. It really made me wish
to some nonexistent airport god that these carousels knew who arrived to them,
and passed out luggage accordingly (really, the whole system could use a
makeover). More luggage came out. None of it mine. I began getting impatient.
The pink bag went around nine times before finally getting picked up, and I
still hadn't gotten my bag. About four big loads came through. I began getting
worried. Looking around, the crowd thinned, and so did the incoming line of
bags. Having waited more than 40 minutes, I became disheartened when I saw an
official-looking lady in a red suit walking towards me. As I was expecting/dreading,
she asked for my bag ticket, which I showed her. She then took me to their lost
articles office.
Seriously, I've been on this trip for more than six months.
This is the first time I've checked
my large bag. First time, and it gets lost. I felt...well, sort of validated,
actually. Not just of my not-checking-bags philosophy, but also of the fact
that the most valuable things
(camera, phone, computer) are always on my person for flights.
Anyway, the running theory at the time (and I have no reason
to question it at this point) is that the issue was caused by the fact that, in
Kuala Lumpur, I changed airlines as well as planes, and they only had an
hour-and-a-half to make the switch, so it never made it. Thankfully, Kuala
Lumpur is just a hop-skip-and-jump from Singapore, so when they found it (no
"if" here), it would be delivered speedily. The lost article employee
was also quite accommodating, giving me S$120 (about US$96) cash for any
immediate needs, as well as a small bag containing some "essentials"
including some toiletries, a comb, a size-XL plain white t-shirt (I was half
hoping it would have some design, even just a Singapore Airlines logo), and
some other odds and ends. They also said they'd hand-deliver the bag to my
hostel when they got it. Honestly, if I got everything within a reasonable
period, I'd make out, marginally. Not that I felt the trouble was worth the
hundred bucks and small shampoo bottle, but hey, gotta think positive, amirite?
Anyway, after leaving the office, I decided to get something
to eat for dinner. As it turned out, there was a McDonald's right there. Bam, I
could continue My Disgusting Quest™ then and there. My local dishes for this
place were a Teppanyaki Chicken Sandwich and a Matcha (green tea) McFlurry. To
be perfectly honest, both of them were pretty darn decent. I'd actually say it
was the best McDonald's meal I've had on the trip thus far. Plus, in addition
to ketchup (which you pumped into these really shallow cups/plates), you could
also get chili sauce as a condiment, which should be a thing in all fast food
places. After finishing with that, I tried to get my bearings, and walked over
to where the MRT (metro) was. I could get on to get to the Chinatown stop,
where my hostel was.
Wait, no. I had to pay for the ticket in cash only. That's okay;
I was just given some cash.
Wait, no. The largest bill the machine accepted was S$5, and
I just had 10's and 50's. That's okay; I'll just ask one of the employees.
Wait, no. The metro desk closed down four minutes ago.
That's okay; I'll go back up and ask one of the bank kiosks to exchange the
cash.
Wait, no. The last train from here leaves at 11:06, only two
minutes. That's...huh. I admitted defeat at this point, mainly because even if
I could exchange the cash and get the ticket in time, there was no guarantee
that there'd be any connecting trains still running when I needed. So, I went
back up to the arrivals floor, worried that the majority of my newfound cash
would go to a taxi. Thankfully, the information desk was open, and said that
for S$9, I could just take one of the public shuttle buses. I liked the sound
of this, so did that, but not before also buying a new SIM card (which I guess
is going to be my modus operandi from here on out?), which was unlimited data
for five days. It's like they made it just for my trip!
Being late at night, there was only one other group on the
shuttle, so I was at the Rucksack Inn by 11:45. Along the way, I appreciated
what I could - the city did seem as clean as it's famous for being, and all the
taxis made it very clear if they were available to hire with little electronic
signs. But I was probably too tired - exhausted, really - to appreciate anything.
Thankfully, the folks at the Rucksack Inn were pretty kind. And the place, for
being a hostel, was very neat and tidy (that's one part of Singaporean culture
I really like). Part of this was because you had to take your shoes off before
entering. So I removed my boots, and we walked past a couple completely empty
rooms, until they found mine. Of six beds, four were already filled, and while
I completely understand their rationale, I could not help but look longingly at
one of the empty rooms. Here's the thing about me and hostels. I have no
problem staying in a hostel...when there's no cheap hotel available. Which, in
some places, Singapore included, there's not. Others say they like hostels
because, hey they meet new people. .......Eh. I meet people everywhere. I don't
need to be stuffed into a bunk bed with them to start a conversation. I like
having my own room. But the main thing is, when you share a room - or rather,
when I share a room - I can never get
over the feeling that I'm always bothering everyone else. Typing on my
computer; reading with the light on; hell, just entering - it all seems like an invasion of their privacy. I
realize I should probably get over these feelings, especially since I'll be
doing a lot more hostel-staying in expensive Australia and New Zealand (unless
I can arrange some CouchSurfing, though that's a lot harder to organize when
you're on the road), but anyway, that's just my two cents. In any case, the
folks I felt I was bothering here was a pair of German girls. I considered
taking a shower, but realized that my towel was in my big bag, and unless I
wanted to dry myself with that white t-shirt, I'd just have to forgo the night
(which, after Kili and especially
after the Everest Base Camp trek, I had no substantive qualms doing). So, I
just went to bed.
Now, one thing I didn't realize about my hostel room until I
woke up was that there were no windows in there. It made sense - it was an
internal room - but it really made me realize how much I took for granted the
fact that rooms usually have windows, even if you leave them covered. Because
when I woke up, I had no semblance of time whatsoever. It could have been
midnight, noon, or 5am. The fact that everyone else was sleeping didn't help
the situation. Upon checking my phone, I saw that it was 10am, so I got up and
had some breakfast. "Breakfast" here being a very simple toast setup;
a couple bags of bread over the fridge, some butter, peanut butter, and jam on
the counter, and a jar full of tea packets to drink. Not going to win any
awards, but eh, it fed me. I then got some of my things together and walked out
at 10:30, but not before being told by the front desk that the airport had
found my backpack, and were going to deliver it within a couple hours. So that
was good news!
I didn't have to go far to find my first little place to
visit, which was the...let me try to get this right...Buddha Tooth Relic
Temple. I guess there's a relic there from the Buddha, likely of his tooth. I
went in, genuinely surprised that I didn't have to take my shoes off, and was
able to walk around the edge of the main part of the temple. There was a prayer
service in session, which I watched for a short while, a bit vexed when people
took photos. Well, that's not entirely accurate; I don't really mind people
taking photos. It's flash photography
that bugs me. But anyway, I went out, grabbed a couple little free books (with
enticing titles like The Meaning of Life
and The Secret to Happiness), which I
thought would make for enjoyable quick reads back at the hostel during some
down time. (I'll just skip to that right now - they were Buddhist philosophy
[obviously], but didn't say anything I didn't already know. To put it another
way: I know that freedom from desire is how you end your own suffering. Just
like everyone knows that following the Ten Commandments and the Golden Rule is
probably for the best. Reading about it, though, doesn't inspire to follow said
philosophies any more than before I began reading. Long story short, I didn't
really get too far in either book.) I then saw that there was a museum on one
of the upper floors of the temple, so I went up. Filled with Buddha statues of
all shapes, sizes, and origins, it was actually a fascinating place. There was
an IKEA-like path to follow, and as you did, there were short narratives about
the life story Buddha and the "future" Buddha, in the voice of Buddha
himself. It's been years since I've learned the history of the religion, and I
thought it was very well-told, and meshed well with the artwork. There was also
a section where portions of the Buddha's 14,000 (I think) relics were
contained. They were small colored globules in glass containers. I was a bit
iffy on some of them (the bluish-green "brain relics" in particular),
but it was nice regardless. Finally, there was this bronze statue from Taiwan
of the Zizai Guanyin ("Fearless Avalokitesvara"), which looked
particularly awesome, and I want something similar for my future home. You'd
have to see the picture (when I eventually post it) to understand.
After leaving the museum, I walked around Chinatown, mainly
the quote-unquote "backstreets" where the little hawkers markets
were. Plenty of crap to be bought, from cheap crap (Angry Birds-themed training chopsticks) to expensive crap (jade wax
seal stamps, ready for carving). In some ways, it felt like a lot of the other
places I'd been to, particularly in touristy parts of China (for obvious
reasons), but oddly enough, I found myself smiling. Maybe it's because the air
was actually breathable here, the water drinkable. Or maybe it's because the
hawkers weren't too pushy, only giving a price when I picked something up. I
dunno, but I actually kind of enjoyed just strolling around, seeing the random
Tintin shop and an example of the world's largest currency mixed in with all of
these little stands. There was one old Chinese tailor who tried to get my
attention with "Hey, where are you from?", but I just responded with
the soles of my shoes. Besides, I was looking for somewhere to eat. My
TripAdvisor app had noted a good dim sum place in the area, but after 15
minutes without finding it, I decided to try a different place, which was a
little less than a mile downtown. It was called Ya Kun Kaya Toast. Not that I
paid any attention to the name - I just saw that it was cheap, well-rated, and
fairly close. When I arrived, I also saw that it was busy; I couldn't even find
an open table. Ah, but this isn't America! Before long, someone came out, and
asked me if I was alone. I said yes, and she led me to a table where two guys
were in the middle of eating their own meal. I sat, and before I could get my
bearings, an old man came up, handed me a menu, and asked what I wanted. I
tried looking at the menu, but he pointed at an item and said something - I
don't even remember what. I just said, "Sure." Before long, out come an
iced tea, a couple poached eggs, and a plate of toast. I start drizzling some
soy sauce on the eggs (the old man handed me the soy sauce; it was the only
thing that made sense to put it on), when another lady came to me and said some
numbers. In the din of the restaurant, I could barely hear, but I assumed it
was the price, so I handed her a S$10 note, and got what was most likely
correct change back, making the meal S$4.70. It was quite good, especially at
that price. The iced tea was refreshing, the poached eggs and soy sauce worked
well together, and the toast (I guess I should have figured toast would have
played heavily into their repertoire) had a delicious mix of butter and brown
sugar. Probably not for dieters, but it was definitely good, and surprisingly
filling. After finishing, I got up, walked outside, and immediately said aloud,
"I have no idea what just happened."
After continuing to walk around the immediate area (where I
saw a bona-fide food court, including a Mexican place - more on that in a bit),
I decided to walk down to Marina Bay, which is one of the major attraction
areas in Singapore. It was not a long walk, but it kind of seemed as though it
was, because of how humid it was. It didn't surprise me at all to find out that
Singapore was within one degree of the equator. Like, I think, most
Californians, I don't mind heat, but that's mainly dry heat. When it gets
humid, all bets are off. I probably don't need to explain it; you all know how
it goes. You get hot when you're moving, and when you stop moving, you get
sweaty. Really sweaty. But this is
not a blog about my sweat, so I'll leave it at that for now. Once at the
marina, I walked around a bit, and saw their local Esplanade/Theatre. It looked
like they were just ending a series of dance performance art shows, so I took a
program, thinking that maybe I'd come back later to see one. But failing that,
I decided to just sit for ten minutes and watch a rehearsal for one of those
shows, which was just going on in the lobby. After that, I walked through one
of the many, many malls in the city
(which Singaporeans love as an extension of loving both shopping and climate
control), but saw nothing that even remotely interested me, so walked back out
to the waterfront, which I walked around. I saw a couple of the sites,
including a big "fork" hotel (in that it was three towers sharing an
extended roof) and a large statue of the merlion, which is apparently the
city's symbol. I briefly went into an art/science museum, where I could have
seen exhibits about mummies and National Geographic photos, but I figured, eh,
I've seen both of those things before. What I've never seen before, though, was "Tiger Street Football",
which was just a short walk down from the museum. This was a "street
soccer" match inside a cage,
much smaller than a normal field, and much faster. In fact, an entire match
only lasted 14 minutes, so I decided to watch a full one. It was a professional
street soccer team vs. "one of the best" local teams ("The
Braindeads"), and unsurprisingly, the professional team wiped the floor.
As it turned out, this was an entire tournament, with dozens of matches to go,
but I wasn't really that invested, so I got a drink at a local Starbucks (where
they refused my Starbucks card on account of it not being a Singaporean one),
and continued on.
I saw somewhere that there was a botanical garden in
Singapore, including a National Orchid Garden, so I got to one of the metro
stations and got a ticket to go said gardens. As it was, there were actually
about a dozen different gardens located within the whole of the botanical
garden, so I kind of floated from one point to another on my way to the orchid
section. Some were interesting (the rain forest section in particular, despite
the weather being even more humid under the trees), some less so (namely, the bougainvillea
section, though that may be a bit unfair, as I personally just associate bougainvillea
with my grandma's backyard). The National Orchid Garden, though, was
significantly better-maintained that the rest of the gardens, and well worth
the S$5 entry fee. It's a good thing I got a new appreciation of flower
photography in South Africa, because I put it to good use here.
Once finished with that, I took the metro back to Chinatown
(worried about sitting down, as my quick-drying pants show moisture like
nobody's business, and when you've been walking in the humidity and building a
sweat...), and then hoofed it back to that food court that I'd seen earlier in
the day. While there were a wide variety of all sorts of cuisines, I made a
beeline for the Mexican place. See, on the last day of the EBC trek, one of my
fellow trekkers asked me, "If you could just have any food right now, what
would your fantasy food be?" For others, there were dreams of
fried-egg-and-beetroot burgers, or beef brisket, but I just said,
"Nachos." And sure enough, this place sold nachos, so I had to make
good on my wishes. Now, there were no Mexicans working in the kitchen, so I had
to temper my expectations, but the end result was decent, if a bit pricy (the
base price for nachos was S$15, which can get you a lot of nachos in California; oh, and drink prices here are also
really high, no matter what means you get them through). Could have used some
more cheese, and maybe some jalapeños, but it more or less scratched the itch.
Afterwards, I went back to the Rucksack Inn, where I spoke with this British
couple who were the roommates I hadn't met yet (as they came in after I fell
asleep, and I left before they woke up). They were nice enough, and apparently
just beginning their travels, which will last for six months and cover almost
the same places I will in the second half of my trip. Who knows, maybe I'll see
them down the line? (Didn't bother getting their info, though, so probably
not.) I then took out my laptop, went to the common area, grabbed a cup of tea,
and marveled at how fast Singaporean Wi-Fi was. For perspective - the Radisson
in Kathmandu had free Wi-Fi. You could then pay $15 for high-speed Wi-Fi (which
I did) and this was supposed to be five times faster than the free stuff (and I
think it was). The free Wi-Fi in this lowly hostel? Ten times faster than that. I took full advantage of this,
doing all the downloading I felt needed doing to keep myself and my computer up
to date. I also used the time to prep and convert my EBC podcast audio (and
when you're talking 7 hours, conversion can take a while). Halfway through, I
thought I heard thunder through my music. I took out my ear buds and looked out
the window, and sure enough, without my realizing it, a huge thunderstorm had
begun. The heavy sheets of rain were briefly illuminated by flashes of white
light, as people scurried to fro on the street outside. I sipped my warm tea
like a smug jackass.
When my computer battery was just about done, I brought my
laptop into my room and found out that the Wi-Fi still worked great. So, I
continued what I was doing when a new guy came in to fill in one of the beds
vacated by those German girls. He was a rotund, middle-aged Indonesian man,
apparently staying here because his Singaporean friend kicked him out of the
house so that his parents could visit. Also, he likes hostels because he likes
meeting people. (I think that will be one of those phrases that just turns me
off by the end of this trip.) He exchanged some pleasantries with the British
couple and myself, and I felt I wouldn't mind him. But then he went to bed. My.
God. I have never heard a human being - or any living thing for that matter -
snore as loudly as this man. When I finally went to bed that night, I had to
put in my ear buds, put on some music, and turn the volume up most of the way.
And even then, I could still hear him. I won't fault him for it, but with all
my "I-hate-bothering-roommates" talk, I at least know I sleep like an
angel.
I woke up the next morning at 9am, 10am? (It all blurs
together in that dark room.) Either way, I had a quick, smaller breakfast and
went to the metro at 10:30 to meet up with Karl, a friend of mine from Capcom.
Well, that's kind of the irony, I guess. He worked in the London office, and
then transferred over to the US office, where I got to know him quite well.
Then I left on my trip, and sometime later, he resigned (I think anticipating
the layoffs a-comin') and began working for Rockstar's Asian branch, based in
Singapore. Truth be told, him being in Singapore was really the reason I came,
if only for the novelty of two former employees (I consider myself "former"
at this point, because I'm not confident they can take me back when I return)
from different countries meeting up in a completely different country. Anyway, we met up with each other, and promptly
grabbed another metro to one of his preferred dining spots, where we could grab
some brunch. It was a place in this mall - Karl was really the one to open my
eyes at how there are literally malls every other street corner - that served
breakfasts of all different nationalities. He got an English breakfast, natch,
whilst I mixed things up with a Spanish hash meal. Pricy, again, but quite
good. While eating, we had a bit of a discussion, primarily focusing on some of
my exploits, in particular the EBC trip. (In fact, he may know more about it
than you do at this point...unless you're reading this after I've posted the
podcast, and you've already listened to the podcast. Then you probably know
more.) He also gave me his thoughts on Singapore. See, when I look at
Singapore, I see an Asian city that, as I put it, "has its act
together". Things are clean, there's a good metro system, it's safe, and
there's a focus on making sure everything progresses. But he countered by
saying that it's really a soulless city. There's not much in the way of natural
culture - it's all either borrowed or fabricated (literally fabricated, like
the man-made island). When I told him about the places that I'd been to, he
said that I had pretty much done all the main things you could do as a tourist.
There wasn't much to recommend there if you were just being a visitor. It's not
made for visitors, per se, nor is it made for natives. It's made for Western
ex-pats, with all the comforts of home.
I totally understood what he was getting at. So I'll put it
this way about Singapore - of all Asian cities I've visited, Singapore is, by
far, the one I would most want to live in.
It's okay to visit, but it's meant to be lived in.
Except the weather's kind of iffy, as we discovered when we
exited brunch and the mall and found that it was pouring rain outside. This
made it abundantly clear why all the buildings here have large overhangs. We
waited under one such overhang until the rain was reduced to a lesser trickle,
and then walked along, continuing to talk. When it seemed as though maybe possibly
it could start raining again, we stopped at a Starbucks to get a drink. We sat,
and this time our conversation steered more towards video games. We talked
about the current state of Capcom (not great), the current state of Rockstar
(which, having Grand Theft Auto V
being declared the biggest entertainment launch in history, is faring a bit
better than Capcom), as well as some of the general gaming news, which he's
been able to keep up with much better than I have. After having spoken with
person after person on this trip who treated my calling myself a video game
marketer with anything from benign interest to forced tolerance, being able to
have an informed discussion about gaming felt good, man.
Before I let him go, I forced Karl to take me to a frozen
yogurt stand, as I knew he likes froyo nearly as much as I do. (And I should
note, this all occurred over five or six hours; we weren't just constantly
stuffing our faces). The place we went to wasn't self-serve, but I gave it a
pass this once, mainly because I was tickled at the fact that they called
sprinkles "color rice". We had our yogurt, took a picture for old
times' sake, and parted ways on the metro, him to go back home to call his
sister and wish her a happy birthday, me to just go back and chill out for a
while at the Rucksack in. And chill out I did, up until dinnertime. I decided
to go somewhere in Chinatown. I could have gone back to that food court area,
but I felt that I had some sort of obligation to eat local. Unfortunately, in
Chinatown, eating local means eating Chinese, and I still hadn't gotten over
all the Chinese I ate in China. But along my meandering, I saw a sign for
"Tak Po", which I remembered was the dim sum place that I was
thinking of having lunch in the day before but couldn't find. So, I sat down,
and looked at the menu. Most of the dim sum items seemed fine, but when you got
into the clay-pot meals, that's when you got some oddities, like century eggs,
and frogs, and chicken's fe-
"Y'know what," I said quietly, to nobody in
particular, "screw it, I'm ordering frog." Fried frog with dried
chili, to be exact. I also got some rice to serve it on, a trio of fried shrimp
dumplings, and two drinks (an aloe
vera juice and a Diet Coke); I figured there would be need to wash stuff down.
After I finished the shrimp dumplings, a bowl of rice was placed in front of
me, followed by a clay pot, filled with some veggies, a thick brown sauce,
and...frog pieces. I don't really know what I was expecting, but there were six
skinned body parts of what was most likely all the same frog. Two legs, two
arms, a torso, and I think the top half of its head. As mentioned, no skin, but
it was all still on the bone. After prepping myself with some veggies and sauce
on the rice, I delicately look one of the legs in my chopsticks, and ate off
the meat. It was light and soft, and had that salty aquatic animal taste. But
more than anything, it just seemed...off. Somewhat wrong. That's probably just
my Western bias pooh-poohing a foreign dish, and I'm sure I'd happily eat it if
I were starving, I can't really give it a recommendation. I mean...chicken.
Just eat chicken. It's heartier, tastier, and feels right. But hey, now I can
say that I've eaten frog.
Except the head. I just set the head aside.
Afterward, I went back to the hostel, and spent the
remainder of my night (we're talking hours here) doing some more of my New
Zealand planning. Namely, because I'm within a four-month window, I can
actually book all of the bus trips that are taking me from here to there and
everywhere in between on the two islands. I also booked a couple of the
activities that I'd be doing (I stupidly sent an email to the company asking
why my trips didn't count towards some of the activities like it said in their
brochure. It was pointed out that the brochure I'd been using this entire time
was for a different company. I quite literally hung my head in shame for a few
seconds), as well as a couple more hostels. Not totally set, but almost there.
Having figured out a general schedule, I then looked at flights from Auckland
to Argentina. While the price had increased a little bit from when I had
previously checked (from about $1150 to $1300), it was probably not going to
get any lower, so I looked at booking. As it happed, the lowest price was for
Emirates, which I consider good; I like flying Emirates. However, unlike the
way you'd think you'd fly from Auckland to Buenos Aires - like, you know, Auckland to Buenos Aires - it goes in
the other direction. Auckland to
Dubai to Buenos Aires. 41 hours total.
And you know what? I'm doing it.
Yes, that makes me completely nuts. But at least I'll be
comfortable on every hour of that flight. And part of me really wants to beat
that 26-hour flight from LA to Moscow to Madrid, which this blows out of the
water. Also, and hear me out here, I'm saving a few hundred dollars on this
flight, as well as the accommodation cost that I'd be spending if I arrived
earlier. Really, the only downside that I can't talk myself out of is the fact
that I won't be crossing the International Date Line, which, in 26 years (three
of which were working at a Japan-based company), I've never been able to do.
Oh, but wait, the Emirates website is still not playing nice with my credit
card. I copied the flight information and decided to save it for the next day.
I went to bed, trying to pretend the Indonesian snoring was just a gentle sea
breeze.
Now, Sunday. I have to say, when Karl told me that I had
seen the best stuff that Singapore had to offer tourists, I was actually quite
relieved. Because, as I mentioned at the beginning, on this trip, I have three
states of being:
- Doing
- Planning to Do
- Reviewing What I've Done
And all three are important. But you can't do any two
simultaneously. So when I found out that I didn't have to do anything on Sunday, I knew I could focus on the other two. Upon
giving it a bit of thought, though, it became clear that to best utilize the
good Wi-Fi I had, I had to plan. All
the things that constitute review, be
it sorting through and filtering photos, or even writing this blog entry, could
conceivably be done offline, which may be the case when I'm, say, on a train to
Kuala Lumpur (note, that's where I'm writing this right now). So, planning it
is. And I knew I had no choice but to plan for Australia, because I had an entry
point/date, an exit point/date and absolutely nothing else. I needed a mid-trip
location, some flights, general tour plans, etc. So, I started that process.
And Christ almighty, it was not an easy process. See,
Australia's expensive. In Sydney, the
cheapest hostel - hostel - is $35 a
day. My favorite hotel in Morocco was half that price. Flights are expensive,
bus trips - if they have service between two points of interest - are
expensive, and trains are expensive (and can take a week). Planned tours and
packages are also expensive. Basically, when you have to pony up more cash, you
tend to be less willing to commit. And so my planning for four, five hours
Sunday morning was just me opening tabs and saying, "Man, that's
expensive. What if I...man, that's expensive, too." Also, this lasted
until noon, maybe noon thirty, because even after having breakfast, it seemed
like midnight when I went back into the dark, windowless room. I was hoping to
turn the light on, but the two Brits slept until well past noon (lightweights;
I went to bed an hour after them and woke up five hours before). So there I
was, tap-tapping in the dark, until I came to a realization.
I need my train ticket.
I looked at my confirmation email, which said I had to pay
in cash at the train station, and had to pick up the ticket by 7:30 the morning
of, or any time before. I figured I might as well just go now, get some lunch,
and grab the ticket to save myself an hour the next morning. Man, I
underestimated how good an idea that was. You see, I was under the impression
that the metro station and the train station were linked, or at the very least
near each other. It made sense to me; after all, other trains/metros had
similar relationships. But after standing on the crowded metro for 50 minutes,
I wandered around the station, baffled. Where were the mainline trains? I
eventually went to the ticket office and asked if they had what I was looking
for. They just wrote down on a slip of paper where I really wanted to go, which required me to take a bus, as it wasn't
even within walking distance. I thanked her, grabbed a quick lunch (where my
cat-like reflexes failed me, and I spilled a drink on the floor; thankfully,
they eschewed their no-refills policy for the occasion), and then went on the
bus. I think I may have gotten on the bus at the wrong side of the street,
because we actually returned to the metro station before getting to the Train
Checkpoint (it's less a loop and more a Mobius strip). The bus ride took an
additional half-hour, which I would have never accounted for if I had just
decided to get the ticket Monday morning. So I got the ticket, which was good,
but I got a good sense of how much time I needed to commute (an hour and a
half), which was even more valuable. Always double check your plans, kids,
especially when commuting is involved!
Anyway, I took the long trip back to the hostel where I
basically got back to planning. Again, it was mostly for Australia, but at one
point, I just got sick of Australia, so I looked at the end of my trip, when I
was done with South America. I have been saying to people that if I have
time/money left (meaning, if I fully extend to 13 months), I would visit Costa
Rica before coming back to the US. So, I looked up some things to do in a few
different Costa Rican cities, and I came to the conclusion that, I'm probably
going to be kinda tired of traveling by that time, so another beach, another
forest, another volcano probably isn't going to excite me all that much. So,
then and there, I officially nixed Costa Rica from the itinerary. I'm gonna be
flying straight from Quito (probably) to the US, most likely the United
airlines (as theirs was the cheapest flight that didn't have a long layover in
Mexico City, but rather, Houston). The only question is when; the date I used
in the search was April 15, so give or take two weeks on that, and you probably
have my ending period.
After a quick dinner (no frog this time, just a simple
sandwich), I got back to the room to find a leggy German girl had replaced the
Indonesian man. She said that she and her friend had just come from Bangkok,
where it was fairly rainy (ruh roh!), and we talked for a bit, when she said
that she and her friend were going out to watch the fire walking for the Hindu
festival that was happening nearby. (Oh, did I mention it's a Hindu festival at
the moment? I did...in my EBC
podcast.) She asked if I would like to join her and her friend for the evening.
I said thanks, I normally would be interested, but I still had some stuff to
do. When she left, I laughed, because I realized that it is these kind of
moments when somebody would come up to me and say that I "blew it"
(which has happened before). I guess
it goes to show how out of touch I am with the always-tryin'-to-get-some
culture. But truth be told, I did
have other things to do. First of which (and I addressed this after also
politely refusing to go out drinking with a traveling New Yorker [a polite one]
who had also moved into the room) was to call up Emirates and try to book my
flight over the phone (by which I mean Skype). It was not nearly as efficient
as online booking (in fact, the whole process took 35 minutes), but hey, my
credit card was accepted, and the flight booked, so I'm not gonna complain.
I took a quick break to start my packing, which I had not
done since receiving my backpack and turning most of my clothes in for laundry
(though I must say, I liked the hostel's policy of charging a flat rate for a
bundle, rather than charging per item). So I rolled up everything, put it away,
and removed stuff that I didn't need anymore, including the little bag of
sorry-we-lost-your-bag goodies I was given. These I gave to the other folks in
the room, to whom I assured this was not philanthropic generosity, but rather
opportunistic handovers. I also stumbled across the little Ziploc bag in which
I would put Factoria the Travel Monkey, which I thought I had lost. I was
actually really relieved to find this, because the original tag for the monkey
had fallen off on the EBC trek, and I put it in the bag to reattach later, when
I had some tape. I was afraid that the cleaning folks had thrown the bag, along
with the tag, away. I was seriously getting ready to send a letter to my sister
to apologize for losing the tag. That's how attached I've gotten to this damn
travel monkey. So finding it tucked away made my day.
After a quick shower (which I must have done at rush hour,
because it was below-room-temperature cold), I packed up the last of my things,
and finally bit the bullet and confirmed some bookings for Australia. Just a
couple: two flights - one from Sydney to Alice Springs and one from Alice
Springs to Cairns, and a Red Centre (Ayer's Rock) camping trip. Just those
three items alone cost over a thousand bucks, so it was no small decision, but
I'm glad I did it, so now I have dates
and can start firming things up. Then, at 1am, I decided it was time for me to
get to bed.
I had asked one of the hostel employees to wake me up at 6am
(I didn't want to use my alarm because, again, bothering people), but ended up
not needing that, as I woke up of my own biological clock at about 5:45. I
packed the last of my things, made sure I wasn't leaving anything behind, and
left the room. A quick breakfast and I was out the door by 6:20. I got onto the
metro, and took the long ride to the Woodlands station. When I arrived there, I
checked how much cash I had left. I had meticulously
planned my cash usage starting the day before. I didn't want to have to bother
with exchanging; I wanted mostly everything spent before I left the country.
The less I had, the better. I even set aside in different pockets my metro
payment coins, my bus payment coins, and my leftover money. Before getting on
the bus, I went to the station Starbucks. I checked my leftover pocket. One
two-dollar bill, a one-dollar coin, and a ten-cent piece. Of all the things on
the menu, I could get a cinnamon raisin bagel for S$3.10. Perfect. I ordered a
drink (paid with credit card), but then saw some bananas, which were a dollar a
piece, and I knew were probably the better option for the long train ride
ahead. So I changed my mind, got two bananas, and headed out. I'd be leaving
Singapore with S$1.10. At least both coins were brand new and shiny - hopefully
my nephews will like them.
I hopped on a bus, and got to the train station at 7:50, ten
minutes before they started boarding. At 8am, the doors opened, and I quickly
sped through the Singaporean/Malaysian immigrations checkpoint, and I must say,
I still smile a bit every time I see my passport get stamped; that thing is
growing more charming with each new country I visit (except for the page where
Hong Kong's cheaply-stapled pass is). I then walked out to the cars, and found
that there was only one first-class seater car, in the front. As the first one
in, I took a second to appreciate that, yeah, it actually wasn't too bad. I had
a seat all to myself, and there was even an outlet next to the seat.
Unfortunately, someone had broken a pin inside one of the socket holes in my outlet, but I was able to use the
outlet just behind me (and the person hasn't complained, so good on them). Were
it on time, it would be a seven-or-so-hour train ride. I spent the vast
majority of the time writing the bulk of this blog entry, occasionally looking
to my left - out at the green, green
treescape that I had envisioned when I thought of Malaysia - and to my right -
to a portly old British man across the aisle who is playing some sort of Age of Empires-like game that I can't
quite figure out. As far as non-European train rides have been, it was the
smoothest one so far.
The arrival in Kuala Lumpur, though, was a bit unexpected. I
was just filtering through photos, and all of a sudden, we were there. I hurried
to close up my laptop and gather all my things. Some guy walked up to my seat -
whilst I was grabbing all my stuff, mind you - and asked, "Hey, you
leaving bro?" When I nodded, he smirked and said, "Good." Yes, I
realize it was his seat from thereon out, but still, I thought the smugness was
undue. In any case, I got off the train, and went into the Kuala Lumpur Sentral
[sic] station. The place was a bit disorienting at first. There were metro
trains, intercity trains, and some other variety of train. And they all had
separate ticket booths, and none of them were in the same place, and the
tickets for the intercity trains didn't have very good signage, and long story
short, I was just wandering around the place for twenty minutes before I saw
some guy in a uniform (probably on his break judging by the fact that he was
getting a drink out of a vending machine) and asked him where I should be
going. He pointed me to this area way in the corner, completely out of the way
and not marked at all. I went over and got a queue ticket. 4015. And they were
currently servicing 3954, 3955, and 3956. Hoo boy. I sat down, reconnected my
two backpack components, and prepared to wait. 3957. 3958. 4015. Oh. Well, that
was a big gap. I went up and got my ticket, which I later found out turned out
to be less than $20 for a sleeper (even if it is a second clas- er, excuse me,
"Superior Sleeper"). Not too shabby. I then went to get some food,
but when I tried to use my credit card, their reader wouldn't connect. I tried
a different card, and that too didn't work. I begrudgingly went out and got
RM20 ($6-7) from an ATM to pay. I went in the same line as I was in before,
hoping that the lady would give me something extra for the inconvenience that
her machine caused, as well as my own loyalty. However, whoever was before me
was ordering some manner of feast, and so the other lines finished up first,
prompting them to ask me to order from them. I did so, hoping to catch the one
lady's eye. But I didn't, and I got nothing out of it. Walking around the
station after eating, I realized that there was an even bigger variety of food
options here than I initially realized, so my returning withdrawing cash was a
wholly unnecessary exercise in the long run. And now I had extra cash in pocket.
So, I decided I'd just buy a couple items with it, since I didn't think I got a
meal on the train. I sat down at the station Starbucks to take full advantage
of their halfway-decent Wi-Fi, and ended up booking the hotel that I'd be
meeting my mom at in Bangkok, as well as looking into getting a Thai SIM card,
and also checking out a few more details for Austra.......
Man, I can never stop, can I?
Anyway, partway through this, a couple girls came up to me,
and dropped a card on my table. (Rereading that sentence, I can tell you think
this is going somewhere wildly different than it is.) The gist of the card
said, "We're part of the deaf and mute community, and we're selling some
handmade trinkets for RM10 (like, $3)." They then held out a handful of
little necklaces. I didn't know if this was a scam (well, not in the sense that
I'd actually get something in return for my money, but in the sense that the
deaf/mute thing may have been to tug on the heartstrings and get me to pay more
than the necklaces were worth), but if it was
a scam, I thought it was a clever one, one that I'm willing to approve of with
a buck or so. But then, I think they actually were legit, and I wanted to help
them even if I didn't have the price they were asking for. I gave them a RM5
note and waved away the necklaces, and they moved their hands from their
mouths, which I have just confirmed is the international sign language gesture
for "thank you", so either they were legit, or else it was a nice
touch. In any case, I wish them well.
(As an aside, you might be wondering why my mind immediately
jumped to "scam". It's not because I've become bitter, but rather,
because scams have been on my mind as of late, as I've had a story idea
bouncing around my head for a while about a guy who becomes, basically, a
middleman for Satan, but I had no thoughts on how he could get into that position. After that jewelry scam in Kathmandu, I was
thinking that next time something like that happens to me, I could counter by
saying I'm also a "dealer" and "my employer" can give them
whatever they want, with heavy implication that I'm working for the devil and
trying to take their soul. Then I thought, "Hey, I could make this
character do the same thing, and then gets recruited for the position."
And I figured I could work in a general motif of scamming, so that's why it's
been on the brain.)
When it got to about 8:30, I figured I should prep to leave.
I decided to get some dinner to bring with me on the train, so first I used up
the little cash I had left to buy a can of ice tea and a bottle of the most
generic-looking root beer you've ever seen (I can't wait to get cheap,
plentifully available bottled water again). I then decided that, for the first
time in months, I was going to Eat Fresh™. There was a Subway in the station,
so I ordered a footlong turkey sandwich, with more or less the same trimmings I
was used to (no spinach, but they did oblige me in getting lots of jalapeños).
It wasn't cheap ($7 with no extras), but hey, it was a nice, filling, and
fairly nutritious sandwich. I got up to the register and...Cash only? At a
Subway? I frowned and walked to a nearby ATM. I tried to take out as little as
I could (which would still leave me with a bit of cash, unfortunately), but all
I got was my card back. Grumbling, I went to another ATM, and again, my card
got spit out, without cash and without explanation. I figured at that point that
I was being given a sign that I should not have this Subway sandwich, so I
decided to swallow my pride at being a jerk-who-has-food-made-and-walks-away
and walk away. I tried going to other places to get some food, but this time I
would ask "Do you accept Visa?" before ordering. Most said no. In
fact, my only options were McDonalds and Burger King. I swear, I wish healthy
food places would get into the plastic age. Seeing nothing at the McDonald's
that looked distinctly Malaysian, I
figured I'd skip this country, and just got some grilled chicken at the Burger
King (which could have been mistaken for a KFC if you only looked at the right
half of the menu.)
It was then time to board. I got down to the train, and
found out that my car was on the far end. I passed by the compartment cars,
passed by the seater cars, and was the first to mine. So, the "Superior
Sleeper"/2nd class sleeper was just a full line of bunk-ish beds. There
were no compartments, and no seats (though I guess you could take out the mattresses
and fold the beds into seats). Each bed had a little window on one side, and a
privacy curtain on the other. I got into my bed, watched others get into
theirs, and immediately realized that this is, by far, my favorite train setup
so far, at least as a solo traveler. The thing is, in a compartment, you are
there with up to three other people. You're enclosed together, but you have no
escape from those other people. I learned this very clearly on my Johannesburg-to-Cape
Town trip with the crazy old man. I couldn't block him out, even when I tried
to. And I had nobody else to turn to. In this setup, the entire car was one
compartment, and you had dozens of other people you were sharing with. On the
one hand, if you wanted to talk to people, you had many more options. On the
other hand, with so many people, your individual "responsibility" to
communicate is lessened, and your privacy curtain provides a natural barrier to
close off everyone. In short, the setup allows you to be more social or less
social, depending on your mindset. In shorter, I likes it.
I pretty much finished my food by the time we took off, and
lay down, reading more of my book. All the while, the guy above me, er, next to
me, er, across from me (he kept moving from place to place to place; when they
took his ticket, they told him he had to stay in his own bunk) kept asking
questions of people. He seemed like a nice enough fellow from Kazakhstan (I
didn't make any Borat jokes), but this had
to have been the first time he traveled. When I told him I was from California,
he asked how many hours the flight was between California and Kuala Lumpur. I
tried to explain that I was traveling for some time, but every time I mentioned
a place, he asked how many hours it was from that place to a completely
unrelated place that I hadn't been. He was also asking a Korean guy why he had
difficulty pronouncing English words, ignoring his own thick accent. And on and
on. Before long, I just felt like I wanted to sleep, so I set my book aside, pulled
my curtain, put my feet on either side of my backpack and tried to sleep. Oh,
what am I saying, tried. I slept
great. There was the occasional wake up in the night when the train started or
stopped, but for the most part, I slept like my usual self (and as of the EBC
trip, I now have four separate people
who all say I sleep like an angel).
I'm not really sure when I woke up. I didn't bother checking
my phone. Actually, I did, but the time didn't catch my eye as much as the fact
that the battery was going down, because I didn't shut down all my apps before
going to sleep. So I promptly shut down my phone, and decided to have a
breakfast of iced tea and a banana (Wheaties has got nothin' on this champion).
I cracked open the can on iced tea, take a small sip, set it on the tray next
to me, start digging through my backpack to look for the banana, and promptly
knock over the can with my elbow, spilling most of the tea on myself and my
bed. Two spilled drinks within three days - I really think I am a klutz. I then
spent the next several minutes using my bed sheets to mop up the mess (and my
camera wrist strap was especially, and confusingly, soaked). Thank got that
privacy curtain was there, so nobody could see my shame. Once everything was
dry...dry enough...I had my banana and continued reading until we were called
out for the border crossing.
They told me I could leave my luggage in the train, so I
took just my passport and went into the immigrations room. The Malaysian
departure was simple enough, but I had to fill out an arrival card for Thailand
- well, everybody did - and they only had one pen. God bless my youthful speed
and impatience, as I was the first one at the counter, so I was the first one
to use the singular pen. The immigrations official then asked how long I'd be
staying in Thailand. "Two weeks, give or take," I said. He stamped my
passport. "Okay, you can stay for 15 days." My eyes bulged. I had
answered without giving much thought to the bike riding schedule, and I was
worried that I might not cross into Cambodia until my 16th day or something like that. After getting my passport back, I
immediately went to the train and tried to get in. The security guard told me
that I had to wait an hour, and that I should get a drink. When I explained
that I had nothing on me, he let me go in briefly. I got my Kindle, my phone, a
small pack of cookies, and the root beer. I checked my phone and to my relief,
the scheduled itinerary of the bike tour had us leaving a couple days before my
stamp expired. Crisis averted. I then took a swig of the root beer and
continued reading, occasionally stopping to be awed at the size of the flies
landing on me.
Then, I heard a groaning creak. I look up, and the train is
moving. It's moving slowly, but it's moving. I grab my things and stand up.
Maybe it's repositioning, so I figured I wanted to be as close to my car as
possible. But then it moves faster. And faster. Pretty soon I'm jogging to keep
up. "STOP!" Some lady yells. Well, not just some lady - an employee
of the train service. I explain that all my stuff is on there, and then it's
explained to me that it's coming back in half-an-hour. No word as to why it was leaving, but I was at least
pleased to hear the explanation (though I think it would have been better to
know beforehand). I continued reading for another half-hour (I'd actually wager
it was closer to a full hour, but I couldn't check, as I'd turned my phone
off), with a few false alarms coming here and there, mainly in the form of lonely
engines. When the actual train returned, I found all my stuff, just as I left
it. I lay down, and continued powering through the Cat's Cradle. In fact, I ended up finishing it (though it's not particularly
long). What an odd, odd book. It seems to have been written specifically for
academics to write analytical papers on. I need to check if it coined the term
"granfalloon", because I swear I've heard it before.
Anyway, quite literally four minutes after finishing the
book, we arrived in Hat Yai. I got all my stuff together, and before I could
even step off the train, I was already being asked if I needed a taxi or bus.
Come now, gents, we're all trying to depart; don't step on to the train. After passing them, and passing dozens of other
guys asking if I needed a taxi, confused when I said I wasn't leaving the train
station area, I tried asking the Information desk where the parcel room was, as
my next ticket was delivered there. Unfortunately, the roar of the train made
it quite impossible for him to hear me, so I just meandered around until I
found it. I showed them my passport, they showed me an envelope with my name on
it (and what I can only assume is my name in lovely Thai script) and asked for
10 Baht (about $0.33). I hadn't gotten any money yet, so I had to leave, find
an ATM (where I got as much cash as I could - I assume this is a very
cash-based society), and gave them entirely too much money. They gave me my
ticket and my change, told me the correct local time (I had gained an hour, which
meant that our late train was now suddenly on time), and sent me on my way. I
now had seven hours to burn.
After getting out of the train station, the first order of
business was to get a Thai SIM card. I went to the first shop I could find, and
found one of those deals where Internet is unlimited, but you have limited 3G access. I had to temper myself and
remember that I was only going to be here a few days and probably didn't need that much 3G and the slow-speed was
probably fast enough and so on and so
forth. I swear, the temptation to have the best can only be outweighed by the
temptation to not run out of money down the line. I then went into a local
grocery store, where I got a couple small items (figuring I could get more if I
wanted before the next train). I then decided to walk around Hat Yai a bit.
Hat Yai is...not that interesting. Not around the train
station area, at least. There's plenty of shopping, to be sure, but nothing
looked particularly captivating. It just seemed like your typical medium-sized
city. I walked down the main street that led from the train station, hoping to
find a good-looking place to eat, but most of the places on the street were
just clothing and gold shops. I did eventually see a mall-like area, and there
I saw a McDonald's. "Welp," I said, "I might as well get this
leg of My Disgusting Quest™ over with before I get into a place with lots of
easily findable Thai places." (Note: I really
like Thai food. It's not in the same strata as Mexican, but it's pretty high up
there.) So, I went to the mall, which required me to set my bag on a table for
a security guard to scan. He gave me a quick glance when it looked like the
table would break under the weight of the backpack. I then saw two items which seemed
like good choices for local flavor: a spinach pie (imagine one of their apple
pies, and then fill it with spinach/cheese instead), and the...oh I'm gonna
butcher this...the McKeao Yum Chicken Plate, or something like that. It was
basically a plate with a small pile of rice, and a small pile of a cut up
breaded chicken breast strip with some veggies and chili sauce. And there was
an egg on top of the rice. It actually wasn't bad at all; it didn't seem quite like Thai food, and it didn't seem
quite like what I'm learning
McDonald's to be, but it was definitely somewhere in between.
They had some outlets, so I stayed longer than probably
should have, nursing the melting ice in my cup (hmm, I hope the ice is safe
here...) while eating some small sliced watermelon pieced that I had gotten at
the grocery store. I also signed up for one of the local Wi-Fi services (one
you have to give a mobile number for), but that ran out before I knew it, and
when I couldn't wait any longer, I went on my way. And in doing so, I
completely forgot my entire bag of groceries. It's funny how easily I can
remember quotes and lyrics from years and years ago, but I can't remember to
pick up a bag that I told myself to pick up thirty seconds previously. Anyhoo,
I explored the mall a little bit, and then left to go back to the main street.
Maybe there was something more interesting downtown, and I just wasn't walking
far enough. So, I walked for ten minutes. Fifteen. Nope, it actually got less
interesting. I turned back and made way to where I came from. I passed by a
Starbucks, and noted with approval that they had outlets, so I went in, got the
obligatory don't-kick-me-out drink, and sat down with my laptop. Unfortunately,
I couldn't find any Wi-Fi. Actually, I found dozens of options, but they either
needed a passcode, couldn't connect, or were subscription-based. So I did the
best I could in my offline state - I wrote more of this blog entry and filtered
through photos, and did so for a couple hours. I then went to a different
grocery store to make up for the items that I had generously donated to some
McDonald's employee, and went back to the train station.
I got to the train station about 40 minutes before the train
was supposed to depart, and waited...and waited. I looked at each of the other
trains passing by. None of them were mine...at least, I didn't think so. At
6:45 (when we were supposed to be on our way), I asked one of the guards if I
was in the right place. He told me I was; the train was just late...or at
least, the part I was supposed to be in was. Apparently, half of the train (the
half my car was on) needed to join with the front half. But hey, it's all good;
at least I knew I was where I was supposed to be. I contemplated purchasing
some food from the railside stands, but held off, as I had read that the food
on this train was relatively cheap and good (for train food), so I wanted to
test that out for dinner (I had bought a kid's single-serving box of cereal for
breakfast). That's when I saw them - the weird fellow from Kazakhstan, as well
as another guy from my previous train, this one from Korea. The Kazak guy was
freaking out because our car wasn't there, giving wide-eyed, fearful arguments
with guards and such. The Korean guy, for his part, was standing calmly. I
liked the cut of his jib better. I tried to convince the Kazak that they
weren't going to leave with half the train missing, but he seemed inconsolable
until the latter half finally showed. As we were boarding, I asked if this was
the first time he'd traveled. "No...Is second time."
We got in, and the design of the car was similar to the one that I took from
Kuala Lumpur to Hat Yai. Except it wasn't in "night mode" yet, and so
the top bunks were stowed, and the bottom bunks were set up as a pair of seats.
I didn't like this setup nearly as much; I'd honestly prefer beds 24 hours a
day. But that's just cause I like me some privacy. Anyway, I got in, and saw
that, between my little pairing and the pairing across the aisle, there was a
waxen-looking old man, a mother-daughter pair, and myself. The mother, sitting
on my side, invited the daughter to sit next to her. I thought maybe that meant
I seemed like more pleasant company than the old man? In any case, I didn't
tarry there very long, because I actually was feeling a bit peckish. So, I
walked to the dining car (asking the Korean and the Kazak if they'd like to
join me - more than anything to explain where I was going without seeming
antisocial - which they refused), which was at least six cars away. There's
something interesting about walking through trains; seeing all the different
people, wondering why they also prefer rail travel, giving your polite
"excuse me," either explicitly or through some
internationally-recognized grunting. This time, the biggest contingent I found
appeared to be some kind of high school band. Maybe college; I'm terrible at
telling ages. But they all had instruments, and it seemed like they were all
wearing oversized white shirts and pajama shorts. I'm not sure if it was the
first time they'd traveled by train, or if they won some contest, but they all
seemed really excited, hardly noticing me as I passed. I eventually made my way
to the dining car, and from the moment I got in there, everything got surreal.
Probably because it was relatively empty, the car jostled more than any of the
other cars, the windows showed nothing but icy blackness, and there was some
sort of upbeat Thai funk music playing. I don't know if that's actually a
thing, but that's how I'd describe the sound I heard. The menu was also a bit
confusing - the meal I ordered (for $6) said it was both a ginger chicken dish
and a duck curry dish. Turns out, it was. Rice, ginger chicken, duck curry,
veggies, soup, fruit, and a bottled water (which was completely unsealed, but
I'm still alive, so all good there). Not a bad deal. And, while not great, it was definitely the best train
food I've had on this trip, low though the bar may be. During the dinner, the
Korean came in to sit with me (he quickly said he was trying to get away from
the Kazak for a bit). Within half a minute, the Kazak guy followed. They had
brought in their own food, which was against the rules, I guess. So, they were
kicked out (not without the Kazak guy having...I dunno, I guess it was an
argument...with the chef of all people. The waiter said to me later, "Tell
your friends they have to buy food if they come in here." I assured him
they weren't my friends. I'd even call them "travel companions" in
the absolute loosest sense.
Anyway, I got back to my seat, and looked for a new book to
read. After going through my library twice, I decided on Tolkien's The Legend of Sigurn and Somebody-or-Another
(I forget the full name). But somehow, I pressed a series of buttons that
deleted it from my Kindle instead. So I just chose The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, which I think I must have mixed up
with Memoirs of a Geisha, because I
thought for sure it had to do with feudal Japan. (I've never read/seen Memoirs of a Geisha either.) I got
through the prologue and got sleepy, but I didn't want to be a jerk and ask the
mother and daughter for move so I could make my bed. Instead, I just pretended
to sleep. I closed my eyes and propped my shoulder on my backpack, which in
turn propped up my head. However, the trick was to do that thing that sleeping
people do, and slowly, slowly slip. I let my elbow slide from my backpack, ever
so slightly, until it finally came off, "startling" me
"awake", and then I immediately went back to my original position, as
a sleeping person would. Within twenty seconds, I felt a light hand touch my
knee. "Excuse me," the little girl said (I think her mother was
encouraging her to practice her English), "Do you want the bed down."
"Oh, no," I lied, "I don't want to bother you." "It's
okay," the little girl replied, "You need your sleep." Awwwww, I thought to myself, Aren't you the cutest little thing. Now I
almost regret deceiving you. So, the attendant was called, they set up the
bed, and I hopped in. Once getting comfortable, I wasted no time getting to
bed.
I woke up, maybe 6:30 or so, and upon hearing the bustling
sounds of folks and seeing through the cracks in my privacy curtain that some
of the beds had been put away, I decided I would sleep for another hour or so.
Or pretend to sleep, at least. I probably would have slept, if I could have.
But I had to make do with just lying there, being quiet. When I realized I
couldn't pull it off any longer, I opened up the curtains, and before long, my
wonderful bed was no more than just a pair of seats. I spent the next couple
hours reading, and occasionally looking out the window at the landscapes
passing by. Lots of greens, lots of rice fields (I think), and lots of those
jutting towards of light orangish stone coming from the ground. I had my camera
with me, but I think there's a curse when you're on a train. When you have the
camera out and prepped, there's nothing interesting to take a picture of. When
it's put away, then you see some awesome stuff, and even the best reflexes can't
get it out in time to snap that picture. A couple examples of stuff I missed
included a stork trying (and failing) to balance on the top of a tree, and a
guy on some sort of...thing, where it was like a big motor in front followed by
some skis, and he was going across water. I don't know what was happening, but
I was loving both of the seconds I saw it for. I was pining for a lot of
untaken pictures, because I did nothing but look out the window when stopped
reading at about 10:30, thinking "We'll just about be in Bangkok
now," completely forgetful of the fact that I've never once been on an
on-time train. As it turns out, we ended up a full two hours late. I was
regretting not having some extra food, because I was getting pretty hungry, and
that tiny box of cereal didn't really hit the spot.
When we reached the train station (a very impressive
building), I looked for the bus stop. I had everything planned out - I could
catch the 159 bus, which, after two stops, would take me to within spitting
distance of my hostel. I passed by a couple taxi guys, smugly brushing away
their advances, and sat at the bus stop. I waited. 7. No. 24. No. 21. No. 112.
No. 34. No. 7. No......I kept waiting. This bus was supposed to arrive every
ten minutes. It's been twenty. I decided to wait another thirty. When that
didn't happen, I went to the information desk and asked about the 159. The old
man seemed confused by the very notion of buses. I swallowed hard, knowing I'd
also have to swallow my pride and take a cab. I knew they'd all try to
overcharge me, so I kept a solemn stance, "No meter, no drive."
However, either because it was a holiday, or because they're all crooks, they
all said, "Oh, I don't have a meter," despite the fact the name of the cab is TAXI-METER, for crissakes!
I then gave an ultimatum - 100THB or I walk. This was still about 40THB more
than I would have paid by meter. But they decided it was not enough of a gouge
for a taxi, and put me on a tuk-tuk (which should have cost 30-40THB at that
distance). I was gritting my teeth - less at their schemes, and less at the
nominal money lost, than the fact that my best-laid plans fell apart - but I
got in the tuk-tuk. He started taking me, and then about halfway through, it
was obvious this guy had absolutely
no idea where we were supposed to be going. He kept driving too far, turning
around, driving too far, going the wrong way. Thank God I had Google Maps and a
GPS, or else who knows where I would have ended up. Several times, he asked to
take my phone, whilst driving. How more uncomfortable can such a request be?
Finally, once we got close enough, I
frustratedly told him to pull over and let me out. I shoved the 100THB in his
general direction, and when he asked about his tip, I gave him a glare that
made him physically wince and drive away. I then made the rest of my way to the
hostel.
The hostel, called Baan Dinso, was actually pretty nice.
Unlike most hotels, you actually get your own room (you just have to share the
bathroom). Each room also has its own air conditioning unit, which is a godsend. Anyway, I lay down, relaxed,
and spent some time in my room, trying to get my bearings (and more
importantly, to charge my phone). I also took a shower, which I felt was due
after two nights of being on a train. After getting spruced up and my phone
juiced up, I decided to take a walk. I honestly had no idea at the time what
part of Bangkok I was in (I now know it was the old part of town, apparently),
so I just chose a direction and walked that way. I first stopped at a memorial
for some students who were killed in the 1973 battle of democracy or
independence or something to that effect (my Thai history isn't so strong, and
there was very little English description). While there, some random guy came
up to me, explaining some of what everything was. Then he asked where I was
from, and seemed tickled pink that I was an American. He told me that it was a
Thai holiday, and that he was going around, and this and that, and now he needs
to go, goodbye. Wait, goodbye? I think I've gotten so used to shills and touts
that a person just coming up to me and both starting and ending a conversation seems foreign to me at this point. But
whatever, nice meeting him.
I then kept walking until I saw a street with rows and rows
of flags hanging above it. That's almost always a sign of something, I figured, so I walked over, and walked onto what must
have been the main shopping street of this part of the city, at least insofar
as tourists are concerned. Because there were just as many white people as
there were Thais walking by the countless little stands, which sold everything
from Buddha trinkets to light-up shirts to fake IDs (and I seriously, seriously considered getting a fake ID
for my alter ego - and who knows, might still do so - but I wasn't terribly
impressed by the quality of their California ID; "same same" seems to
be used much more loosely in Thailand). And of course, roadside food stands.
The only part that really bugged me were the guys - who seemed to often be
Indian, oddly enough - who come up to you asking if you want a suit. Now, I had
considered having a custom (and I mean custom;
shoulder cape and everything) suit made in Thailand, but I won't be here long
enough, and I wanted to do in on my
terms, not theirs. So I brushed most of them off. One of them I actually
followed in, just because I asked "how custom" he could make his
suits. He took me inside and showed me a perfectly normal looking suit, because
he just thought I meant size-wise, I think. I could tell he wanted to sign me
on something, so I suddenly put a spark in my eye and a smile on my lips.
"Here's the thing, I have an idea - just an idea - for a suit that will
outdo all suits." I stared off into the middle distance as the dollar
signs flashed in his eyes. "I need to go back, draw it; I'll have the
design, the colors, everything! Do you have a card?" He gave me a card,
and let me leave without hassling me anymore, thinking full well I intended to
return the next day.
Do I feel guilty lying to these folks?
........
Nope.
After getting through that street, I made my way southward,
and found myself in a large open park, which I later found out was the royal
park. I figured that the incredibly fancy buildings at the far end were all
part of the Grand Palace. So, I decide to walk through the park to get to it.
Except that the park is enclosed on most sides by a fence. Not an impossible
fence by any means, but one that you're clearly not supposed to climb over. I literally
walked around the circumference of this huge park (which was a couple football
fields, I'd say), and found, like, two entrances. I'm honestly sure what the
deal was with that. Unfortunately, none of the entrances were near the Grand
Palace, and I wasn't feeling like walking all that way. So, I decided to get
something to eat. I suddenly remembered that I had downloaded the TripAdvisor
Bangkok city guide, so I took that out, and looked for food options. Nearby,
there was one of the top 30-rated cheap restaurants in the city, a vegan place
called "Ethos Bakery". Why not? I followed their map, went down some
streets and...Huh, not there. Maybe if I go this way instead...no. Maybe it's
on this side of the street? Nope. As it would happen, I never found the place.
At all. My guess at the time was that maybe it was closed for the holiday. So,
I looked up other good places in the area. A half-mile away, it said there was
a good place called "Shoshana", so I figured, sure. The map said that
it was actually on that shopping street, so that was convenient. I walked
there, and found nothing. I went back and forth, and found nothing. I went into
some of the back alleys, and according to my GPS, was literally on top of the
place, and found nothing. I asked someone where the place was, and they said,
"Behind the Burger King." Which was odd, because the Burger King was
on another street. But whatever, I went, and found the place, almost a full
block away from where the app said it was.
Long story short, the TripAdvisor Bangkok city guide app is
trash, at least as far as navigation goes.
I was a bit disappointed to find that Shoshana was an
Israeli food place (I probably should have checked that before deciding to walk
there). Not because I don't like Israeli food, but to be honest, I wanted Thai.
So, I walked back to the market street, and decided to get a roadside pad Thai
40THB (~$1.25). And it was plentiful and good. You can't do pad Thai bad, I
think. After finishing that, eating at a small table behind the stand with a
couple silent strangers, I continued down the street, and ordered some coconut
ice cream, which was also 40THB for a half-coconut filled with scoop after
scoop of ice cream. Considering everything was under $3, it was one of the
best-value meals I'd eaten in a long time. Now all I needed was some spicy
papaya salad!
I decided to walk around the area to digest my food, and I
came across a variety of other food stands, each of which looked good in their
own way. Especially with prices as low as they are, the temptation just to grab
one more item is just so damn high.
But I was planning on getting a massage, so the last thing I wanted was a
stomach full of undigested food. I passed by so many varieties of people -
plenty of normal tourists, a bunch of hippies, some guys who were seriously wiggin' out on something
(based on my experience observing druggies as an RA, I'd say it was ecstasy),
and of course, the people trying to get you into their stands/shops/parlors.
Whilst walking past one bar in particular, I heard some guy playing a guitar
and singing. I don't know if he was actually American-taught, or if it's one of
those things where you lose your accent when singing, but when I heard him
play, I could have sworn there was some 45-year old white guy from the Midwest
singing. It was amazingly good. I only heard two songs of his - one of them was
"Leila", and the other one (the one I fell in love with) I couldn't
even recite the lyrics. I'm not one for normally tipping street musicians (unless
they have a cool gimmick and/or cool accordion). I then walked to the place
where I was getting my massage.
Now, I should preface this by emphasizing that this was entirely on the level. This was not
intended to be the "Thai Massage" that people always talk about with
a wink and a nudge. This place was fancy, and legitimate. (We'll get to the
less legitimate places further down.) It had a sliding glass door, a reception
desk, a VIP area, all that. I ordered the most expensive item they offered - an
$83, 2 hour production that should have just been called "The Works".
After being led into the VIP section, I was able to take a quick shower (the
room also had a sauna - does anyone at these places actually go for those?),
and then the work began. Oh, I should mention that even though this was a fully
on-the-line massage, I was a little disquieted by the temporary underwear they
gave me. When I first saw it, I thought it was a sock, it was so shallow. I was
thinking of taking a picture of myself wearing the underwear to post online,
but as I put them on, I realized that doing so would probably get me arrested,
as they were, for lack of a better word, fishnets. Less for coverage, more for
keeping everything in place. Still, I figured they weren't going to try any
funny stuff, mainly because the masseuse was, like, 55. But anyway, the
massage! Like I said, it runs the gamut - foot massage, Thai massage, oil
massage, hot stone massage, and herbal compress massage. It was all in there. I
don't really have much to say other than that it was the massage I needed after
the EBC trek. Also, I swear that some of the Thai massage moves are taken
straight out of medieval torture catalogues.
Afterwards, I decided to go back to the hostel, and I again
got people asking me to come into their places, or do I need a taxi, or
whatever. I was getting tired of brushing people off, so I decided to try a new
tactic: just look bat$#!+ crazy. So, I started talking to myself, to which I
would make aloud when someone grabbed my shoulder or something. I'd even look
at then, darting my eyes back and forth a bit. Here's a bit of the monologue:
"Have you seen Miguel? I'm looking for Miguel? If you see him, tell him I'm busy. Yes yes! Busy busy busy! Yes yes yes! Tell him now the rain has gone, that I was waiting for too long. I have neither right nor reason, I will not allow this treason. Drop a drop into the fire, then you have a drink tonight. Pale old Miguel, he's not looking good, he's not looking right. Yes yes? Understand? I'm a busy man. Busy busy busy. Let him know...."
Basically, I would just spout off stream-of-consciousness
non sequiturs, and occasionally would rhyme. Skipping ahead to today, I actually
expanded it by reciting (mostly out of order) a YouTube video that I really
like for some reason:
"Here's a dog. Here's another dog. Oh, God, look,another dog. Cute! I like dogs! Here's a little dog! Here's a big dog! This dogis two dogs! This dog likes carrots! This dog will eat anything except dogfood. This dog is very overweight...whoops! Never mind, he just lost 50 pounds,you missed it! This dog has some bones. This dog is some bones..."
I honestly don't know if that one is funnier when there is a
dog (or two around), or when it just looks like I'm completely hallucinating.
Also, I'm writing down all of this fully aware of how slippery a slope this
whole messing-with-strangers thing is. But hey, reread the banner for this
blog, and you'll know who you're dealing with.
Back in the hotel, I grabbed my computer, went down to the
restaurant (which seems to be the only place where the Wi-Fi works unequivocally),
and did all of my Internet-y things that I've been needing to do for the last
few days. Accessing files, sending information regarding the credit card fraud
I had to deal with, all that stuff you can't really do on a phone (or at least
that I don't want to do). I then went back to my room, intending to finish this
blog entry before it got too long (whoops!), but almost instantly got tired and
fell asleep. Then I woke up, remembered that I hadn't brushed my teeth, brushed my teeth, then went back to
sleep. I woke up about 8am, 8:30. I realized that I had set my AC unit to blow way too coldly, as it was freezing in
the room. So I put on my clothes, grabbed my computer, and went back to the
restaurant. There, I had breakfast, which at first I thought was just toast and
butter/jam, because that's all that was on the table (Jeez, thought I, I could have
saved three bucks by not having this toast), but then I was served a
rice/egg dish, along with some fruit and a kind of sweet cake thing. Much more
like it. While I had the tasty breakfast (though admittedly, it mostly tasted
of the spicy sweet Thai sauce I put on it), I continued to do more Internet-y
things (hey, I hadn't finished them the night before). This included looking at
some of my options for places to stay in Sydney. I looked at Couchsurfing, but
I didn't see any that really screamed me
(though I only looked at a small portion). I also looked at some room rentals,
as well as local hostels, looking at locality, price...it's hard making those
commitments sometimes. It's even made more
difficult when the Wi-Fi works like a yoyo. It’s most obvious when I was
downloading - speeds can increase and decrease nearly a hundredfold on a dime,
and then remain for minutes. It makes the whole process a lot less smooth.
After sorting through all that, I decided to go out for
another walk, see a couple sights. I had noted a couple major attractions - the
Grand Palace, a couple temples, and a couple museums - just to give them a
shot. I also figured I'd grab some street lunch whilst I was out and about. My
first destination was the Queen's Gallery, an art gallery which was supposedly
pretty good, and was just down the street from me. I walked down, and one this
one stretch of the sidewalk, there were just stands and stands of people
selling...tickets? I think that's what they were: bus tickets. I have no way to
be sure, though, because absolutely nothing on the block was in English. And
I'm not just talking a couple or even couple dozen people doing this. There were
at least a hundred stands selling these mystery tickets. I've spoken before
about how these merchants need to learn not to have their business right next
to an identical business, but this was ridiculous. So much so, that I
completely missed the Queen's Gallery. Oh, I was looking for it. Every building
I passed, I looked at the name, and never saw "Queen's Gallery"
written anywhere. According to my maps, I'd passed it. I made one last check,
and then called it quits, to go to my next destination.
I decided to go to the Grand Palace - I knew where it was,
after all. I made sure to walk on the outside of the Royal Park, but I found
the biggest difficulty was crossing the street at convenient locations, because
there are very few normal intersections here. Instead, there's a bunch of weird
modified roundabouts, and you never know which way a car is coming from. I had
my greatest moment of "crossing with caution and confidence today",
as I crossed the street leading to the Royal Park. Because the traffic was so heavy,
I had to go halfway and stop, cars then zipping in front and behind for what
had to have been 90+ seconds. I then found...not a gap in the oncoming traffic,
but a stagger, so I did a quick calculation in my head, and began walking
steadily. Once I reached the sidewalk, I wished I had filmed it; I was weaving
through the traffic without every quickening my pace. It was a thing of beauty.
Anyway, I got to the front of the Grand Palace, but decided I'd get a bite to
eat first. I was hoping to find a spicy papaya salad, but would settle for
another pad Thai However, as I walked around the perimeter of the palace, I
didn't see any that really said "Eat me." There was plenty of food,
to be sure, but a lot of it was on a stick (kebabs, fruit, etc.), and while there
were some places I could probably
guess sold pad Thai, I couldn't actually know for sure, as all the signs were
Thai only. Then, there were some places where I thought I could reasonably get
a pad Thai, but there were no seats. And really, I was holding out for that
salad. Anyway, I probably passed by a few hundred different stands, and somehow
reached the water's edge before turning around (I knew that because people were
offering me boat rides and there was a big body of water in front of me). I
went back, and continued circling the perimeter of the Grand Palace.
Eventually, after I had finished the complimentary bottle of water from the
hostel, I bought another bottle of water, but that was about it.
I think at some point, I had missed the entrance to the
Grand Palace, because all I could see were high walls and a lot of stands
selling little Buddha trinkets. Thousands
of them. Like, there were dozens of these stands, all next to each other, and
each had dozens (if not hundreds) of these little Buddha trinkets. My time
here, and in other Buddhist regions, has made me legitimately question how
Siddhartha would take all of this, what I would almost call idolatry of his
image. I know Buddhists don't worship Buddha, but were I completely ignorant of
any knowledge of the religion, I would have told you they worship him hard. Which segues me into where I ended
up going next, the Wat Pho, which, despite having pegged as one of my
destinations, I more-or-less found accidentally. I went inside, and found that
it was a bunch of temples and stupas and statues and what-have-you. I walked
around, taking pictures and thinking at every single point how useful an audio
guide would be (there were human guides, but you can't turn those off). I went
inside a couple of the temples, but there was one where they distributed little
bags for people to put their shoes in. I saved that one for last, for no
particular reason. It's not like I realized a giant Buddha was in there. Yes, inside this temple was the
Reclining Buddha, a 15-meter high and 45-meter long statue of the Buddha. Like,
literally, my research for the place had been seeing something that said
"Go there," so I said, "Okay." I was not expecting it at
all, which I think made it even more impressive. And believe me, it's
impressive. Remember what I was saying about it looking like people might
worship this Buddha guy? Were I an ignorant savage and I saw this statue, I'd begin worshiping the Buddha. So
anyway, I guess there's something to be said about going into places unaware of
what you'll find.
After grabbing the complimentary 200ml water that came with
my admission, I left Wat Pho and walked back around the way to the front of the
Grand Palace, where I finally found the entrance. I went in, saw a sign that
the real entrance was 100m away, and
the price was 500THB, which, if you add in a 100THB audio guide, would be $20.
I was skeptical, and maybe thought that if my mom wanted to see this...well, I
didn't want to pay $20 twice. But she's been to Thailand before, so maybe she's
seen it. I sent her a message, and then went to find something to eat. And
really, there was only one place I knew what I was getting: that market street.
Again, I probably could have stopped at one of the really backwoods-lookin'
street carts, but the proprietors looked old and uninterested in me. So, I
walked the 30 minutes (or at least it seemed like 30 minutes), to get to the
street, where I ordered a pad Thai (from a different stand to see if it's all
the same...it kinda is), walked down, god a melon smoothie, and then checked my
messages. Nothing. I gave it some thought, and then figured, heck, I'll go back
down to the Grand Palace. I contemplated getting a tuk-tuk, because it was close
by (I could see it even). I had read that locals pay 20THB for tuk-tuks. I
wanted to see if I could get away with it. I took out a 20THB bill and put it
in an easily accessible pocket. I walked up to a driver, and asked to go to the
Grand Palace, pointing in its direction. When he nodded, I asked, "20
baht?" No, he said, forty. I shrugged and began walking away. He asked me
how much I was willing to pay. I pulled out my 20THB bill, and the rest of my
empty pocket, saying that's all I had; it's all I can pay. "You very
cheap," he chided me. I gave a "Who, me?" shrug and decided to
hoof it down. When I got to the palace, I went inside took some time to
appreciate all the myriads of people walking around, and then went to the
ticket office. No, wait, I skipped the ticket office accidentally and went
straight to the entrance, where they told me to go back. However, before I did,
I noticed on a sign that the "Emerald Buddha" exhibit closed at noon,
and the whole palace would close at 4pm. 4pm...that only gave me an hour. I
weighed my options, but decided that spending $20 on an hour-long activity that
should really be done in a half-day - not a valuable use of money. Thank
goodness I skipped the ticket line.
I decided to leave, checking for other activities that could
be done that might be fun, albeit not necessarily related to Thai culture.
There seemed to be some sort of mystery theater program, which I always love,
and then I could see a movie (I've heard good things about Gravity) at this luxury theater for the same price as at a normal
US theater. But in both cases, these seemed to be things better left to
multiple people, so I decided to wait until I met up with my mom. I then
decided to walk back to the hostel (it had started raining, pretty heavily,
while I was inside a 7-11, so I had to play a stop-and-go game underneath
overhangs until I got my moments of light drizzles), where I wrote more of this
entry. (Notice how many times I've written that so far. Notice how long this
entry is?)
Then, at about 6:30, I decided to head out for the night. I
wanted to get another massage (a cheaper one this time; I had gotten my luxury
one), before eating. So, I went back to the market street and found a place. I
probably should have guessed by the fact that "hideaway" was in its
name that it was probably one of the happy ending variety. Or maybe it was when
the masseuse insisted on undressing me instead of letting me undress myself
(which she did with hilarious clumsiness). Hindsight, and all that. I had
ordered an herbal compress massage which, also in hindsight, was a mistake,
because Christ, those things were
hot. I tried to imply several times to turn down the heat on the steamer, but I
don't think there was a setting for that. I basically had to breathe through
gritted teeth. Finally, on the very last section she did, which was my shoulder
blade, I had to tell her to wait, because it was especially hot. And I wasn't imagining it - I actually have burned
skin on my shoulder now. So, she asks if I want to extend the massage with an
oil massage (another sign, perhaps). My body is definitely not feeling relaxed
after the scalding compresses, so I want whatever I can to sooth the burn. So,
out comes the oil. And it all goes as an oil massage would go. Finally, when it
gets near the end, she says something to me in a completely unintelligible Thai
accent. I ask her to repeat herself, which she does, to no avail. I ask one
more time, and she just kisses me, tongue and all. And then she grabbed my
genitals. I think that's when I figured it out.
Let me start off by completely ignoring the elephant in the
room and saying, I don't do much kissing. I really prefer hugs. I specifically
like hugging when the other person is wearing a sweatshirt too big for them, so
that their hands couldn't even come through the arms. I think that particular thing has only happened once
in my life, but I find it really comforting. Now, this kissing - tongue, hot
breath, teeth sort of touching each other. It's kinda gross, to be honest. I
don't know how you people do it all the time.
Now, back to that elephant. I had no intention of this
massage turning into Fifty Shades of
Schnorr, and quite frankly, after what happened with my shoulder (it got
burned, remember?), I wouldn't really trust this gal even if I wanted it. So,
all of my trip's practice at being an on-the-spot actor/improviser/liar came
into play. "Fi," I said lovingly (Fi was her name, or at least what
her name sounded like), "Not tonight. Tomorrow's my birthday. Are you
going to be here tomorrow?" She said she was, "Good. Same time, same
place. Just remember my name - Adam Schlague." She told me she would, and
that for my birthday, I'd get a full "Thai Ending". She gave me a
kiss (ech!), finished the massage, and helped me get dressed. I went on my way,
still wincing at my shoulder. I figured at that point, I could have just been
indignant, said, "What are you doing? I'm leaving!" and got out of
there once the shenanigans began. Yet, the way I went about it was the only
thing that came to mind in the moment. Maybe the slope is slipperier than I
thought? In any case, even in hindsight, I still kind of prefer my way -
leaving her waiting tomorrow night for a high-paying birthday boy who will
never show up seems fitting, if somewhat unrelated, revenge for burning my
shoulder.
Anyway, not as good as my first night's massage. Also, I'm
probably done with massage at this point. Except maybe some foot massage here
and there. 'Cause, y'know, my feet aren't burned.
Anyhoo, after getting out onto the street and making sure
that all my money was where it should be, I decided to get some dinner. Even
though it was an hour later than originally intended, everything was still
open, so I found a restaurant that - hooray! - had spicy papaya salad! I ate
that up, and kept walking. That's when I ran into the guy who wanted to sell me
the suit. He asked me if I had any pictures. Thankfully, I had prepared for this
moment. I told him I already gave it to him, and then looked terrified, because
I had apparently given it to somebody else (and paid), thinking it was him, and
oh my god, I'm not a racist, please don't
think I'm a racist, and getting increasingly worked up until he told me it
was alright. I apologized profusely, and then walked away, shaking my head and
making angry, somewhat self-destructive gestures until I was out of his view
(after all, if he'd seen me walk away normally, he'd see through the act). When
I was far enough away, I decided I wanted something with meat in it, so I got a
kebab sandwich thing, which was good,
but not quite as good as the salad, which was the same price. I then walked
home, stopping at a 7-11 to buy some body lotion for my burn. Before buying it,
though, I checked on the Internet, and they say not to do that. Thanks,
Internet. Instead, I bought a little red bean paste bunny pastry (and a tiny
bottle of chocolate milk), which I brought back to the hostel with me. I ate my
little dessert, and then took a quick shower, mostly just running
slightly-less-than-room-temperature water on my burn. I then got back to my
room, where I've been finishing up this entry.
And speaking of finishing up this entry...it's finished.
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