Thailand: The SE Asia ‘Can’t Leave Your Self Behind’ Guide

From A to B – Getting Around

Getting around in Thailand is so simple even I managed it.  Travel agents are everywhere, more often than not in guesthouses.  Pick a destination, wander down from your room, have a nice chat, pay a ludicrously small commission in some (but not all) instances, let them arrange it for you, pick up ticket, go.  Simple.  The following may just make it even easier. 

Trains

Our primary long distance travel method.  Thai trains are clean, well-staffed and exceptional value.  We took sleeper trains to and from the south-west coast and also up to Chiang Mai.

• This is a brilliant website, lovingly created and meticulously maintained, about worldwide train travel, including SE Asia: The Man in Seat 61
• We travelled second class, air con.  It was fine, although I was hot during the night, but then I’m always hot.  The fan option seemed OK too, and marginally cheaper.  First class cabins sleep two, and are private.  They were fully booked on our dates.  Book a few days in advance if possible, especially in high season or during festivals.  Virtually all guest houses will help you book tickets for a small commission or you can buy direct from the station if you happen to be in the area.
• Lower berths are better than upper berths due to their increased width, and proximity to the ground meaning less clambering.  They are a fraction more expensive as a result.  Sadly we could only find upper berth availability on our trips.
• The configuration of the second class carriages is two armchair style seats facing each other on one side of the aisle, and the same on the opposite side of the aisle.  These seats are then made into the lower bunk.  The top bunk is pulled from the ceiling.  If travelling as a couple a good idea is to get a matching lower and an upper bunk so you can sit opposite each other before the beds are prepared and after they are put away.  The train staff do this for you with practiced efficiency.  We had one who looked and acted like she’d just changed careers from being a prison guard; all bulk and no nonsense.  Lights out animals! Boy she was quick.  She never found the hole behind my Raquel Welch poster though, sucker! Clean bedding is provided.
• Food and drink are available on sleeper trains.  The train stewards come to you.  They work on commission so don’t worry, they’ll find you.  The food is OK for train standards, but a bit overpriced so we tended to stock up on provisions before we boarded.
• There is a restaurant that serves surprisingly good food at Bangkok station.  It’s on the upper balcony level on the right hand side as you face the platforms.  The restaurant furthest from the platforms.
• There is luggage storage at Bangkok station in the far left rear corner (i.e. behind you) as you face the platforms.  Fairly expensive but very useful if you have a day to spend in Bangkok before catching a night train.
• The trains seemed fairly secure but we padlocked our rucksacks to the racks when we slept, and took our small bags with valuables into the bunks. On this subject, a pacsafe has been a fantastically useful addition to our travelling clobber and has been used in planes, trains and automobiles and as a mobile safe when hooked around relatively immovable objects in guesthouse rooms.
• The buffet car is fun but can be seriously damaging to a relationship…

L: Helen in the 2nd class corridor. R: me clambering off the top bunk

Buses

We only took a couple, and these were minibuses.  They were OK, newer and better maintained than the rest of SE Asia.  Again, guest houses and travel agencies abound and will help you book pretty much any travel request.

There are horror stories about buses in SE Asia, and they truly are horrific.  We ourselves were involved in a bus crash in Laos, but walked away unscathed.  I’m not sure what advice to give on this; there is simply no way to completely mitigate the risk, other than staying at home.  If you feel unsafe ask the driver to slow down.  When he doesn’t, ask again.  Try to avoid the suicide seat on minibuses, next to the driver in the front.  If the bus has seatbelts, which it probably won’t, wear them.

Other than that there’s not much you can do about safety.  Get a good book, put on some tunes, and zone out. 

Taxis

Cheap, in good nick, air conditioned.  Always get a meter one.  If they refuse to turn the meter on, or say it is broken, then get out.  Most taxi drivers are happy for a fair fare so use them instead. 

Guesthouses often provide business cards printed with their address – take one and show it to the driver on your return trip to mitigate against detours, and your own memory failure.  I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve got into a cab, been asked ‘where to’, and gone completely blank before mumbling something about a hotel near some trees next to a road.  Then wetting myself.  Not really – that’s where the trees come in handy.

Where the Magic Probably Won’t Happen - Sleeping

I will only mention noteworthy places when it comes to sleeping, in this post and the ones that follow.  We stayed in plenty of OK but relatively non-descript places, and there is no point mentioning these when Trip Advisor can be far more useful (providing you have your crazy internet troll filter activated to mentally weed out the blatantly unreliable reviews).  Generally I’d advise against going for the Lonely Planet’s ‘our pick’ when it comes to accommodation – when we looked at these places they were overpriced and gave off the impression that their new found seal of approval and subsequent upturn in business had been accompanied by the laziness that a steady stream of guests can often engender.

A couple of good websites include Hostelbookers and HostelWorld

Having said all this, what we normally did was just rock up somewhere, have a little look around, and sooner rather than later found somewhere decent.  Nonetheless, when we did receive accommodation tips they were normally good ones, and helpful, so I’ll plough on…

Bangkok

Sivalai Place has big rooms, a pool, Wi-Fi, and incredibly helpful staff.  It’s a bit out of the way though, and this began to annoy us; it’s not located where you can easily pop in and out during the day.  We didn’t find it a terribly sociable place either, lacking a bar as the prime example.  However, it’s a good place if you want to get out of the hustle and bustle of central Bangkok, and it bears repeating that the staff were tip-top.

We preferred Smile Society Hostel in Silom.  Silom is an exciting and vibrant area of Bangkok, vice and commerce rubbing shoulders.  The rooms were small but perfectly formed, with very comfortable beds and high quality linens, a good shower, decent smellies, Wi-Fi and an OK breakfast included.  On a tangent, it has a massage parlour over the road that offers the intriguing prospect of a testicle massage for 800 baht, meaning that every time I popped out to the nearby 7-11 I could return to the room with a slight limp and inform Helen that I’d just had my testicles abused.  She had the good grace to laugh at this lame (limp?) joke every single time.  N.B. This is not that type of blog, I can’t actually comment on the abuse or otherwise such services offer.

Ko Lanta

The most difficult decision we had to make was which beach to stay on when planning our trip to this island on the west coast of Thailand, near Krabi.  It seemed that the further south you went on the island the better the beach and the less development there was.  We went south.  Our final decision on which beach to stay on was eventually made easy by serendipity dealing us a great hand when we discovered our friends Tom and Jodie had just, unbeknownst to us, holed up for a month on Kantiang Beach with their mate Dave.  Much fun ensued with some of the nicest people you could ever spend time with; not least of which was a riotous night out on Ko Phi Phi that culminated in Jodie involuntarily exiting the water-taxi back first, scuba style, giving a literal punctuation to an evening that could not in any way be described as dry.

Kantiang is a beautiful beach set in a long bay, with good swimming.  Most of the hillside is dominated by the uber-luxury Pimalai resort, but their presence is subtle, and they have a vested interest in keeping the beach clean, to the benefit of not just their own guests, but also to everyone else. 

Kantiang Beach in the background.  An oversized jockey in the foreground.

We stayed at the Lanta Marine Park View Resort.  I can only assume that the name of the hotel was created by a malfunctioning Hotel Name Generator.  We got a good low season rate (c.£12 per night over five nights), a spacious air-con room with a balcony and an amazing view of the bay.  They also have a ‘Shroom Bar’ perched perilously on the cliffs which is a great place for a drink.  But not so great if you try the speciality Shroom Shake and turn all R-Kelly (the ‘I believe I can fly’ bit, rather than the ‘I might just pull out the video camera’ bit).  

Nmm nmm nmm – Eating and Drinking

Eating in Thailand is a joy.  Street stalls are dirt-cheap and will fill you up with great tasting chow.  There are plenty of places serving basic western fare should you want a change from the lemongrass and chilli loveliness of Thai cuisine.  Here are some of our favourites:

Chatuchak Weekend Market, Bangkok: There’s a Vietnamese kitchen located in the boutique clothing section of the market, with perhaps 20 tables, and an open kitchen showcasing the chefs at work.  They are overseen by a big Momma who tasted every meal before it went out – maybe because she was hungry, but more likely for quality control.  It was to be the best meal we had in SE Asia, and we had it on our first day.  Peaking early perhaps but boy it was good. 

Kantiang Restaurant, Kantiang Beach, Ko Lanta: The eating options on Kantiang Beach were a bit disappointing generally but this small local place served fantastic Thai food, and was charmingly welcoming.  It’s about 200 metres from the ‘centre’ of Kantiang – turn right as you exit the 7-11, walk up the gentle hill, and it’s a few metres up a side street on your left.  If you get to the entrance to the Pimalai resort you’ve gone way, way too far.  Look for the scooters parked outside; a sure sign that the locals eat there meaning two things: (1) it’s good, (2) it’s affordable. 

Mo Rooms Hotel, Chiang Mai: A trendy little boutique hotel that serves Thai-fusion food.  Sounds wanky I know.  But we had some fantastic pasta done with Thai ingredients.  Slightly more expensive than other places but still ludicrously good value, and they have lots of cool modern artwork scattered around the place.

Drinking: watch out for the national beer, Chang.  The changover it generates is rough, and the deceptive strength can affect your judgement, as I have written about previously.  Similarly, ‘buckets’ have been known to claim several victims – the child-size plastic containers filled with a bewildering mix of grog that take you from sober to drunk quicker than a roundhouse kick from Jean Claude Van Damme.  But listen to me.  What a puritan.  If you’re old enough to drink you’re old enough to take responsibility for your own actions. 

Tangentially related to this I’ve just remembered a funny character the aforementioned Tom and I met whilst we were buying our own buckets from an off-license slash gift shop slash convenience store.  He can’t have been any older than 22, clearly on his gap year, with a face that was betraying the discombobulating effects of one too many buckets of his own.  He looked at us, grimaced, and in the drawl of a war veteran said ‘I gotta get out of Thailand man’, ruining his enigmatic style somewhat when he appended it a couple of seconds later with ‘I miss my Mum’.  I miss my Mum too, nothing wrong with loving and missing your parents no matter how uncool the big kids might think it is, so sympathetically I asked how long he’d been in Thailand for.  ‘Three weeks, man, I gotta get out’.  Giggling, Tom and I checked he’d be OK getting home that night which he waved off with a look that said ‘leave me here, save yourselves’ so we stumbled off to do something that I’d probably have been talked out of had my Mum been there – namely getting another tattoo around my ankle that reads This Too Will Pass.  The sentiment is mine, the artwork was not.  I hope this bloke got out of Thailand, and I hope he had a lovely reunion with his Mum.  I see mine in Canada in a few days, for the first time in six months, and I’m giddy with excitement – take that cool kids!  

Other stuff

Avoid ping-pong shows in Bangkok, read more here.

Renting scooters is a great way to get around, particularly on the bigger islands such as Ko Lanta.  Take it easy, wear your helmet, don’t be another statistic.

Chatuchak Weekend Market in Bangkok is amazing.  Thousands of stalls selling mostly decent stuff from clothes to art to homeware to puppies to books to luggage.  We loved it.

Mountain biking in Chiang Mai is great fun.  I did the entry level course and it was just challenging enough.  I only came off once, and had a lovely scab to prove it.

Cookery schools are a great way to learn a bit and meet people. Helen did one in Chiang Mai with a company called Basil whilst I was mountain biking, and returned not with any scabs but with some delightful dishes and a conviction to cook more Thai food when we get home.  We both win, yay!

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Introduction: The SE Asia ‘Can’t Leave Your Self Behind’ Guide

Contents: Overview, overall route, budgeting and money, visas and border crossings

Besides, my usefulness here is destroyed because all of my friends think me a man of unsound mind.  Alex Campbell (Canadian politician)

This is that most rare of things for this blog; a useful post, or rather a set of useful posts.  To be treasured like the first pubic hair you sprouted, sealed in a see-through baggie, bought out for special occasions, and eventually sealed in a locket and presented as a gift after a successful date.  No? Just me? Surely not.

A couple of friends have asked me for hints and tips on South East Asia recently.  You know, useful stuff like where to stay, how to get there, what can’t, and what must, be missed.  It would seem that the random brain-farts on naughty train behaviour, the maddening word awesome, the ethics of phone hacking, and discourses on the characters we’ve met don’t fulfil this brief of usefulness.  My tracking stats also tell me that a large number of readers are coming from the Lonely Planet website and I suspect these readers are keen and eager for useful and tangible advice.  Useful and tangible advice from the ‘Because You Can’t Leave Your Self Behind’ blog? Whatever next?

It is, however, important to note that the suggestions and advice below are based on our limited experiences, and is far from comprehensive and even further from objective.  We didn’t go to South East (SE) Asia with a view to researching then publishing a guide book, nor have we left with that intention, although approaches from publishers bearing generous advances are most welcome.  In short, don’t blame me if you follow this advice and end up with an incense stick embedded in your forehead, or worse still, come home sporting hair braids or a tattoo that wouldn’t pass muster in a prison.  I speak from experience on one of these outcomes.  On the other hand, if you do find any of the advice useful then please send gifts, blank cheques and/or perfume scented love letters to me.  Or just leave a comment below addressed c/o Ian’s Self Esteem.

Each country has its own post and includes information on getting around, accommodation, eating, and ‘other stuff’ which will most likely descend into cheap gags and (no promises) funny stories.  I’ve tried to separate these stories out so that those looking for facts can find them quickly.   

This introductory post largely steers clear of country-specific information and instead seeks to contextualise the trip with the overall route and a section on budgeting, and offers advice on visas and border crossings which, by their very nature, cut across countries. 

Well, what are you waiting for? A locket or something?

The overall route

Duration: 10 weeks.  Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia; clockwise.

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• Flew into Bangkok, Thailand
• Sleeper train to Krabi
• West coast island of Ko Lanta
• Ko Phi Phi
• Ferry, Bus, Train combo back to Bangkok
• Sleeper train north to Chiang Mai
• Minibus and short boat ride across border to Huay Xai, Laos
• Gibbon Experience
• Bus to Luang Nam Tha
• Minibus to Luang Prabang
• Flight to Hanoi, Vietnam
• Bus, Ferry combo to Cat Ba Island near Halong Bay
• Bus, Ferry, Sleeper Bus to Hue
• Motorcycle across Hoi An Pass to Hoi An
• Flight from Danang to Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon)
• Organised tour into Mekong Delta
• Bus then ferry south-west to Phu Quoc Island
• Ferry, Bus to Cambodian Border, on to Kep
• Bus to Siem Reap
• Taxi to Thai Border
• Taxi (again!) to Bangkok
• Fly out

Money matters: Budgeting, accessing it, and keeping it safe  

Budgeting

Budgets are personal things, and I suspect you could travel for far less than we did.  Equally, you could spend FAR more. You will, I think, only be paying attention to this information if you yourself are budgeting for a similar trip, and with this in mind it’s useful to have some context about us. 

We probably fit into the category of ‘flashpacker’, much as I loathe that term.  This means we were careful with money, but not obsessively so.  We stayed in either budget or good value midrange guesthouses, tending to opt for air conditioning.  Where possible we chose comfort over price with transport, although one does not necessarily guarantee the other.  We very rarely ate in high-end restaurants, but did eat often.  We boozed it up occasionally, but still remember most of the trip. We bought nice but relatively inexpensive gifts (my wife) and a fair amount of cheap but fun tat (me).  When we negotiated we did so with a view to both us and them winning, but were happy if they won more often than us.

With this context in mind our budget was £80 GBP per day for us both (a grand total of approx. £5,600).  Not including flights in and out of Bangkok or travel insurance.  It does however include other flights mentioned above, plus everything else.  We came in approximately £400 under this budget at the end of the trip.  


This information is not designed to form a budget recommendation, merely guidance.  I’m being cagey on this because I read a car crash of a discussion thread on the Lonely Planet Thorn Tree forum about budgeting for SE Asia which made me acutely aware that (a) budgets are sensitive topics and (b) the internet is full of some real arseholes.

Special offer to prove how fond I am of you lot: If you want an excel spreadsheet with formulas included for budgeting and then tracking daily spends against budget then leave a comment below with your email address and I’ll shoot it over.  If you already know me then you can email me directly or facebook me rather than leave a comment.  It’s free.  Obviously.

Accessing it and keeping it safe

From a logistical point of view Visa debit cards are widely accepted in ATMs – tell your bank where you’re going to avoid getting it declined when you arrive.  Visa and Mastercard credit cards are accepted in a few places, almost always with a 2.5 – 3% surcharge.  AMEX is next to useless. Cash is still king, and the US dollar is still the de rigeur international currency.  Having a $100 bill stashed away is a good emergency plan. 

From a security point of view here’s some pointers from our experience:

• A money belt, one which loops around your waist and buckles (i.e. a normal belt), with a small hidden zip on the inside is great for carrying small wads of notes and a photocopy of your passport.
• This is opposed to the pouches that are designed to be worn on your belly, under clothing, also known as money belts.  These, in my opinion, are daft as they often bulge out from under clothing and are like a flashing beacon to nefarious types.  Ones that have a steel band embedded in the strap to deter a slash and grab job are even dafter – if your assailant has a knife do you really want him thwarted? Better to lose your stuff than your life.
• For extreme security (and we only did this a couple of times in Africa) tubigrip bandages worn on your thigh, under shorts or trousers, are a good method for storing wads of cash, provided it is wrapped in plastic first.
• Something brilliant that Helen thought of was to get security pockets sewn into the inside of our shorts/skirts.  These passport shaped cloth pouches have a zip and sit next to the groin. Not easy to access during the day, but that’s the point.  We had a tailor sew these in when we were in Johanessburg.
• I have a fondness for zips.  A zipped pocket will thwart all but the most skilful of pickpockets.  Similarly, shirts that have buttoned breast pockets are great for storing easy-to-access (for you) cash.

Visas and border crossings

For a more comprehensive set of recommendations I suggest you use the Travelfish website which is an exceptional travel resource for SE Asia.  They have also started publishing nicely designed and useful IPhone apps.

Information below is correct at time of writing, and the visa information specifically applies to UK passport holders.

Visas

Thailand: arrivals by air are granted a free 30 day visa.  Land arrivals get a free 15 day visa.  No passport photo required in either instance.  Visa extensions can be organised in most towns, and a new visa is granted if you leave and then re-enter Thailand.

Laos: Laos visa cost $20 USD, passport photo required. You’ll inevitably pay some random (read corrupt) processing or overtime fee of a dollar or two each at land crossings.  Much as it pains me to say this given my fairly trenchant stand on the issue of corruption it’s probably easier to just pay and fume later.

Vietnam: As a general rule it is necessary to get a Vietnam visa before arrival.  If arriving by air then visa on arrival may be possible if you have applied for an e-visa in advance.  All land crossings require a visa in advance.  Visas are for 30 days, and applications require a passport photo. Cost varies between $40-60 USD depending on speed of processing required.

If doing a SE Asia tour it’s probably easier to get a Vietnamese visa from a neighbouring country such as Laos or Cambodia, or at the Vietnamese embassy in Bangkok.  Most large towns will provide visa services either at a local consulate or via a travel agent (who will charge you a small fee, send off your passport, and return it a few days later).  Vietnam requires you to provide a date for when you wish your visa to start.  That’s why it’s easier to get one closer to the time – you’re more likely to be sure of when exactly you’ll cross the border.
 

We got one in Luang Prabang, Laos.  It was simple.  I wrote about it on a forum on the Lonely Planet Thorn Tree, here (see post # 10).

Cambodia:  available on arrival, $20 USD, 30 days validity, passport photo required (see below).  Again, you’ll pay some random bribes if crossing by land.  Scammers are particularly bad at these crossings.  We got a little scammed, and were a little stupid…

We arranged for a combined bus, ferry, bus and border crossing ticket to get from Phu Quoc Island in Vietnam to the Cambodian border then through to Kep on the south coast.  They also offered a $25 visa service.  We had run out of passport photos and asked the office if they could advise us on where to get some.  They told us not to bother, that the additional $5 we’d paid (on top of the $20 visa fee) would cover that.  So we rocked up to the Cambodian border, the fat border guard pulling on his official shirt over his vest as we drew up.  The bus driver handed over our passports, we filled in the forms, and then he asked us for our passport photos.  Ah, we said, they said it wouldn’t be necessary, turning around to point out the driver.  Who had promptly disappeared.  You’ll have to pay $2 each for a photo he said.  OK, I said, my mistake, realising I was about to be scammed.  Where should I stand for the photo, I politely asked. No camera, he replied. And this is where I should have shut my mouth, handed over the inconsequential amount, and moved on.  But I was hot and grumpy, and just thoroughly pissed off with being viewed as a walking cash machine.  So if there’s no camera how can I pay for a photo, I asked.  You pay fine, he replied, turning my passport over in his hands to clearly show just where the balance of power lay.  Oh, it’s a fine, I said, then that’s OK, but can I have a receipt please?  This was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  Exploding with rage he told me that I, just like my government (?!), was disrespecting him and his country, that I had insulted him by suggesting that the money he was about to take would somehow change his life, you think I can buy a car, a house, with this money, he shouted.  Glancing at my passport in his sweaty hands I concluded that perhaps now was the time to back up.  I didn’t mean any disrespect to you or your country, and the relationship between my government and yours is one of friendship, I calmly bullshitted. There has clearly been a misunderstanding, for which I apologise, so please take this money so we can be on our way, I continued, thrusting some notes at him, impatience and supplication mixing in my tone.  I think at this point both of us were secretly wishing that these disputes could be settled in a more medieval way, man vs man. I don’t want your money, he said, now taking the moral high ground.  OK, apologies again for the misunderstanding, thank you, I said claiming back our passports.  His unspoken thoughts: get out of here you jumped up smartass.  My unspoken thoughts: don’t take the moral high ground with me fatty, you corrupt sack of shit. A grunt from him, and a mumbled but cheerful fuck-you very much from me, and we were on our way.

Border crossings

The lesser-spotted blagger

Borders are the natural habitat for blaggers; get your head down, plough on, ignore them.  Visas for Thailand, Laos and Cambodia can be obtained at point of entry, ignore anyone who tells you differently. 

Changing money at borders will result, in one way or another, in being ripped off.  Perhaps not by much, so you pay your money you take your risk.  Get the latest exchange rate before you enter a country, never expect to match this with a money changer, but expect to get close-ish through negotiation.  Only hand over your money once you have agreed a rate and a total exchange value, have counted and checked the proffered notes, then counted again.  When dealing with large denominations be wary of the ‘500’ note slipped in among the ‘5000’ notes, for example.  Only exchange if you are completely happy with the quantity and quality of the notes.  If you’re not, walk away, and keep walking.  If you are, make the exchange and walk away, and don’t entertain any renegotiations from the money changer – this will certainly be a scam; your business was concluded when you exchanged the notes.  Equally, if you suddenly realise you’ve been ripped off then don’t expect the money changer to remember you.  Chalk it up to experience.  Or avoid all this and use an ATM at the next large town, and have some US dollars stashed away for emergencies.   


Update, 1 December 2011, Peru: I re-read the above recently and concluded that it sounds insufferably smug.  Like I actually have any idea what I'm doing when it comes to changing money.  The advice, I think, is still sound, but it seems only right, in the interests of full disclosure, that I'm honest about how I've completely failed to follow my own advice.  I've changed money at borders twice, and been ripped off twice - once in Africa and once in South America.  Both my fault.  I didn't lose a huge amount in either transaction, so it's no great shakes, and it can be put down to a simple inability to calculate figures in my head and negotiate at the same time.  So, that's it.  I'm not that cool, urbane, unruffled international traveler figure that delights in doling out smug advice.  I'm mostly just a naive fool, as fallible as the next man.  Anyway, update over, as you were...  

Thailand - Laos

Chiang Mai (Thailand) to Huay Xai (Laos): We caught a minibus from Chiang Mai with other travellers, dropping us at river crossing at the Thai border town of Chiang Khong.  You hand in your passports on the Thai side for departure stamps.  A very short boat ride takes you across the river (40 baht per person if memory serves).  Complete the Laos immigration forms on the other bank, get your visa, and away you go, up the bank into the main drag with all the guesthouses. 

Laos – Vietnam

Luang Prabang airport (Laos) to Hanoi airport (Vietnam): air border crossings are simple.  We had our visas for Vietnam in advance so breezed through immigration.  Not much more to write on this…

Vietnam – Cambodia

Phu Quoc Island (Vietnam) to Kep (Cambodia): We bought a combined bus, ferry, bus ticket to take us from our guesthouse on Phu Quoc to Kep.  Other than the Cambodian standoff story above this was a simple border crossing, the bus depositing us in Kep from where we jumped in a tuk tuk to a guesthouse.

Cambodia - Thailand

Siem Reap (Cambodia) to Aranyaprathet (Thailand) and on to Bangkok: we caught a 3 hour taxi from Siem Reap ($25 USD) to the border town of Aranyaprathet.  You hand in your passport for a Cambodia departure stamp then take a five minute walk through no-man’s-land to the Thai border.  There are lots of street kids and touts.  I used up my remaining small amounts of Cambodian coinage on buying some food for these kids – I don’t personally hand out money as a rule.  Fill in entry form at Thai border to get a 15 day free visa, no passport photo required. Someone will find you on the Thai side offering transport options to Bangkok before you need to find them.  We were tired and sick of buses so we opted for the offer of a taxi.  The 3 hour ride cost approximately £35 GBP, so not cheap by SE Asia standards, but great value by any other standard, and it deposited us, in torrential rain, right outside our guesthouse door in Bangkok. 


You can also do the Bangkok leg by train or bus.  We didn't, so can't comment. 

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Not well trained

Thailand, Bangkok to Trang by sleeper train

That feeling about trains, for instance.  Of course he had long outgrown the boyish glamour of the steam engine.  Yet there was something that had an appeal for him in trains, especially in night trains, which always put queer, vaguely improper notions into his head.  
Georges Simenon, "The Man Who Watched the Trains Go By".


‘Where. Have. You. BEEN’?  Yep, I’m in trouble, I thought.  The gritted teeth and fire in the eyes gave it away.  This was face-tremor anger, and even through the delightful cloud of irresponsibility that Thailand’s national beer, Chang, induces I could tell that I’d done A Bad Thing.  For those of you not acquainted with Chang it’s the most popular, and cheapest, lager in Thailand.  It’s also like Stella on steroids.  The quoted ABV is 6.4% but I’ve been reliably informed that it varies in strength from 6-8%.  Its logo graces the ubiquitous singlets worn by virtually every male traveller in Thailand, a uniform that displays bulging biceps and island tans.  You must understand – I’m not jealous of these bicep-ed young men wearing their identikit uniforms, looking fit and healthy and cool, part of the vest gang, singing Bob Marley songs around a beach fire.  No, I’m not jealous, I just want to beat them to death with the guitar and use the singlet to rub away the fingerprints.   

None of this, however, crossed my mind as I sashayed my way to the dining car on the overnight sleeper train we had caught from Bangkok, our destination Trang on Thailand’s western Andaman Coast.  I was feeling tip-top in fact, all at peace with the world, not the least bit misanthropic, and I may have even been humming some Bob Marley in my head (blah blah load of old bollocks blah, that’s one of his right?) .  I’d left Helen in our carriage, snugly ensconced in one of the upper level beds.  Oh, sure, I hadn’t actually told her I was going to the dining car, but it was a last minute decision.  I figured that as I had already clambered my way down from my own top bunk I might as well stretch my legs, have a sneaky little cigarette in the dining car, and do a little spying on who our travelling companions were. 

Well, it was just wonderful in the dining car.  There was no-one wearing a singlet, the Thai karaoke was blaring out of a table mounted TV, everyone was tucking into bottles of Chang or whisky, the lowered windows were allowing a cool breeze to cut the humid night, and the bustling waitresses were only too pleased to plonk me down on a seat, then plonk a Chang on the table.  This is how you do it, I thought, reflecting back on the last time I had been on a train, several months hence, 5.45am, freezing cold, en route to London, and very seriously questioning if what I was doing was the mark of an insane person.  But this moment in the dining car re-ignited my love of train travel, reminded me of those long and pensive journeys I used to take during the university years, the happy hours spent just staring out of the window and thinking.

Raising my glass to the young Thai guy sitting opposite me I took a long pull on the Chang, and lit a cigarette.  Before I knew it we were chatting away, albeit in broken English (his English being much better than my Thai), and through the universal language of smiles, laughs, and clinking of glasses we quickly established that we had a shared fondness for nicotine and alcohol.  I bought a round of Changs, he shared his bottle of whisky, we were having a merry old time. On the subject of time, one of the lesser known effects of mixing Chang with whisky is that it disrupts one’s sense of time, or more specifically the passing of time.  I’m sure I felt a cold chill pass through the dining car as I glanced at my watch.  In retrospect, this chill may have been guilt.  Or my wife truly is a sorceress and can manipulate the weather through her emotions (cold chill = rage, for future reference).

Pin-balling back through the train carriages I arrived back at our berths. ‘Where. Have. You. BEEN’?  ‘Er, I just had a beer in the dining car’. ‘Really’, she hissed through gritted teeth, ‘is that why your lips are smeared across your face’?  ‘OK, two beers.  And some whisky. But it was really fun’.  This wasn’t the correct response.  With a final outburst that is simply not printable I was banished to my sleeping berth, my doghouse for the evening.  And most of the next day as it turned out. 

She’s right, of course.  It was selfish to disappear unannounced, she was worried that I’d fallen off the train (not totally unrealistic), plus I’d left her with all the bags.  I’d been a Bad Husband, and I apologised sincerely and repeatedly.

But it was really fun.  

Before: Happy and together.  After: Shunned and alone (with a changover)

Update 18 June: So, we were doing our accounts today and I stumbled on this page from the daily expenses/mini-journal H keeps.  In case you can't read the entry for the event described in the post above it says: Ian + friends drinks - 400 baht + ?.  In dining car for over 1 hour - "No, let's not go to dining car" x 2. "No you can't have the computer I want to write my blog".  SELFISH WANKER.
Hell hath no fury...

<If you need useful information about trains in Thailand (or most places in the world) then I can't think of a better place than this lovingly created and meticulously maintained website: the man in seat 61>

Vice, it's not nice

Hong Kong and Bangkok

‘Oh no, it’s happening again’ I thought to myself as I sat sweating in the humid waiting room of a massage parlour on the fifth floor of a building in Hong Kong’s Yau Ma Tei district.  ‘Do you think this is one of those types of massage parlours’? Helen asked me as a slim Chinese lady walked past wearing a mini skirt and crop top. ‘Yeh, reckon it might be’.  Once again, we’d blundered our way past the white tunic-ed and incense fragranced ground floor places with floor to ceiling windows, instead ascending in a stinky lift with a nervously smiling lady still clutching the photocopied brochure promising cheap massages that acted as our bait.  In an earlier post I spoke of how the spa-brochure advert of relaxation is elusive to me, partly due to a previous experience that I promised to reveal in a later, adults-only posting.  This is that posting, and although I’m pretty sure children aren’t regular readers, and could frankly find far worse on t’internet,  if you are immature in years or outlook then it’s probably time to log off from this discussion about vice and look at this nice picture instead.

This previous experience that tainted my view of massages happened in Singapore, on the first night of our honeymoon a couple of years ago.  We’d wandered around the Chinatown district in the sultry heat, floating on a cushion of jet-lag and beer, but still knotted up after our long-haul from the UK (Qantas A380 = ace).  A massage would be just the ticket we reckoned, a full body one at that, and hell, for that price it would be rude not to.  Ascending the stairs and into the dimly lit waiting room two attractive ladies re-arranged their short skirts, sitting to attention, with what were, in retrospect, bemused looks on their faces as they moved their gaze from me (male, makes sense) to Helen (female, not so much).  Clarifying that, yes indeed, it was both of us who wanted massages we were shepherded into adjoining rooms, divided by a thin partition wall, with gaps at the floor and ceiling, and encouraged to disrobe in private.

Now, this is the first obstacle for the novice massage recipient – just how much do you take off?  ‘Er, Helen, am I supposed to take off my pants’? I whispered through the thin wall. ‘No, course not you idiot, where do you think we are’?  We were about to find out.  Stripped to my pants (good ones, thankfully, this was a honeymoon after all), feeling stupid and self-conscious about my surplus of body hair and deficit of muscles, my masseuse entered the room, sliding the door closed behind her, and with a raised eyebrow asked me to lay flat on my front.  I’ve subsequently learned that it is not common practice for a masseuse to sit on your buttocks whilst massaging your back, but my rationale for her sitting like this, as if she were riding a horse (or bear in this instance), was that I’m bigger than average guys (height, you perverts, height!), and needed to adopt this position to get the appropriate leverage.  ‘Leverage’, now there’s a term I’ve enjoyed not using over the last few months.

Gentlemen, you will need to back me up on this.  Having a rocking weight sat on your buttocks whilst your front is pressed hard against an unyielding surface generates friction, and the physiological impact of this friction has an inevitable, and unavoidable, result. This is not eroticism.  In fact, in this instance it was quite the opposite.  With panic setting in, I knew that any moment she was going to ask me to flip over and lay on my back so she could continue with the second half of the massage.  A mental refrain of ‘think of dead kittens, think of dead kittens’ didn’t do the trick, and as I flipped over I fixed her with a sheepish gaze that I hoped would convey the sentiment ‘yeh, this is embarrassing for both of us, but it’s just the inevitable result of human physiology, so what do you say we just be cool about this and carry on like this elephant (OK, caterpillar) in the room isn’t really there’?

It didn’t work.  ‘You very hairy, I like’ she whispered, playing with the hair on my chest in a way that I’m fairly certain does not grace the pages of massage textbooks.  This reaction is not unique; it happened again two days ago when Helen and I had massages in Bangkok, this time in the same room, although on this occasion my masseuse went on to say ‘your wife very beautiful, you very lucky’ as she gazed over at Helen’s breasts being gently massaged by her colleague. ‘Yes she is, and yes I am’ I replied, thinking this to be a bit weird, but not a patch on the Singapore fling.  And let us return back to Singapore, to a situation that was escalating as quickly as my heart rate.  ‘Ooh, yes, you very hairy, you like that?’ she whispered, patting my penis as if it were her pet sausage dog.  ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoaaa’ I whispered, keen not to disturb my new wife as she lay blissed out on the bed not five yards away, ‘I’m married’, urgently pointing at the shiny ring on my left hand.  As it transpires I hadn’t been as quiet as I’d hoped, my wife hearing me let out what she describes as a ‘low, nervous laugh’.  In a small part of my mind, right at the back, I was thinking that this was funny, but my predominant emotion was pure, unadulterated awkwardness, the Brit in me rising to the top in a tumult of unspoken um’s, er’s, and this is just not cricket’s.   ‘Hand job, 50 dollar’ she said, making a movement with her hand that, even allowing for the mutual language barrier, was not wholly necessary.  ‘No, no, no, married’ I whispered, pointing again at my wedding ring, and then onwards to the room next door.  ‘OK, 40 dollar…30 dollar’ she whispered, more urgently this time.  Part of me was thinking that if we carried on like this she’d be paying me.  She had, after all, already mentioned how attractive she found my chest hair.  Fixing her with my best serious stare I repeated ‘no’ and that was that, I thought, as she continued on the massage in a slightly sullen, but normal way. 

Five minutes later she began working on my right arm, lifting it up from my side and moving along from the elbow to the fingers.  Back on track, I thought, just as she grabbed my hand, turned it around so my palm was facing her and firmly placed it on her left breast.  Leaning in to my ear, my hand still clasped against her breast, she whispered in my ear ‘me your angel, make you feel good’.  Pulling my arm away and rigidly fixing it by my side I turned to my last trick; the disappointed look.  With a frown and a sad little shake of the head I repeated, more gently this time, ‘no’.  And you know what, it worked.  The rest of the massage went off without a hitch, despite it being the most uncomfortable twenty minutes I’ve ever had.

It was this memory that was triggered as my wife and I sat in the Hong Kong massage parlour waiting for our foot massage.  A foot massage – what could go wrong?  Nothing, as it turns out, my paranoia being just that, as the male owner rolled up his sleeves and attended to my hobbit feet, his female colleague drawing the longer straw and massaging Helen’s.  As we sat there, still in their waiting room, our feet being pummelled into submission, we discussed the horse racing that was being screened from the Happy Valley racetrack, all of us placing fun fictional bets on the potential winner of race 8.  We’ve cracked it, I thought, we’ve become street smart about vice.

Our subsequent experience in Bangkok’s Patpong area threw this theory straight out of the window and back into the gutter.  Patpong is famous for a couple of things – its gaudy night market selling knock-off watches and clothes, and its alleyways of vice.  As we walked up and down, left and right, through the streets stopping here and there for bites to eat, and just one more beer, we were constantly approached by touts promising us the fabled Bangkok ping-pong show.  If you don’t know what this is then I’m sorry but I just don’t have the energy to describe it, other than to say that this is ping-pong minus the bats.

As one more beer turned into two, and then to three, we agreed that maybe we should, you know, have a look.  It’ll be a bit naff, we reasoned, but we could always have a beer and leave.  When a tout offered us free entry and beer at 100 baht (about two quid) we reckoned this to be a bargain, show or no show, and followed him conspicuously through the market and up some dingy stairs.  Beers in hand we sat around a circular stage with four ladies lazily dancing, faces reflecting the same thought as the audience – we really don’t want to be here.  It was all incredibly seedy, about as erotic as athlete’s foot as the ladies demonstrated their genital dexterity, and was carried out in an atmosphere that told me this wouldn’t end well.  Waving away requests to buy drinks, a lady sat next to me and asked me to write my name on a piece of paper.  Bemused, and yes a little drunk, my stunning logic was to write down a fake name – Bill – that’ll fox them!  For the next ten minutes we sat, my eyes mainly fixed on the floor.  I only raised them to watch two separate sets of tourists walk over to settle their bills, and explode with rage.  These folk looked just like Helen and I – daft tourists who’d had a couple of beers and thought ‘this’ll be a laugh’ before realising this was unpleasant and exploitative and swiftly getting up to leave.  Their explosive reactions to being presented with their bill gave me a sinking feeling that we were about to be ripped off, even more than I had mentally prepared myself for.  At this point one of the ladies on the stage held up a piece of paper with the message ‘welcome Bill’.  My brain clicking into gear told me two things: this wasn’t hand written, and we needed to get the hell out of there.   ‘Not me, my name’s not Bill, must be someone else’ I shouted over the din, airily pointing into a different part of the bar.  ‘Helen, we’re leaving right now’ I said, taking 200 baht out of my trouser pocket and shoving it into the top pocket of my shirt.

Bracing ourselves for the worst we approached the sneering lady at the pay station.  Now, I was prepared to be a bit ripped off, this is how these places work, we’re stupid tourists, fair enough.  But the itemised bill presented to me really knocked my socks off, and put into sharp perspective just why the previous tourists had exploded with a rage that seemed unnatural.  For two beers which we’d sunk quickly in the ten minutes we’d been there, advertised as 100 baht each, we were presented with a bill for 3,100 baht (over 60 quid), made up of a random collection of fees including a per person ‘first look’ charge of 800 baht.  I know a little bit about negotiation, and one immutable truth is that anger never works.  So as Helen leant over my shoulder fixing the lady with a passive but dead-eyed stare, calmly outlining that two beers and no cover charge equalled 200 baht, I pulled the two 100 baht bills from my top pocket and told Helen to walk, quickly, towards the exit.  I calmly laid down the bills and smiled, said that the 200 was all I had, and walked off.  Approaching the near pitch black exit I saw Helen panicking and as I drew closer she turned to me, eyes full of concern, and exclaimed ‘they’ve locked us in, I can’t get out’!  Reaching to my left I pulled open the door.  ‘That’s a wall Helen, this is the door’.  Taking two steps at a time, me behind Helen hissing ‘quick, quick, QUICK’ we dived into the market as a Thai man ran down behind us, and then off to the left.  Not good, I thought, he’s going to get someone that I have no desire to meet.  

Zig-zagging through the throng we got to the main road, paused for just a moment, realised we needed to keep moving and so shot across the road, down a well-lit road and into the nearest respectable looking bar.  It turned out to be an Irish bar, virtually empty, but big enough and with enough dark corners to hide away.  With our drinks we took up an elevated position on the first floor, facing the door, and turned to each other with raised eyebrows, our hearts still pumping.  ‘You know what’ Helen said after a gulp of beer, ‘I thought I played that pretty cool, the way I looked that woman in the eye and didn’t react  when she called me a whore’.  ‘Yes, yes you did’ I replied, giving it a couple of moments before sarcasm got the better of me, adding ‘you were really cool, until you tried to get out through the wall’.  Bursting into laughter we began to calm down, the adrenaline receding.

But it disturbed me.  The massage story is funny I think, but the ping-pong story is troubling.  The image that has been left in my brain is certainly not an erotic one; these young woman doing ugly things with their bodies for the largely disinterested tourist crowd is a side of Bangkok that I’m not proud to have contributed to, and I would urge anyone else to just stay away.  The image that has been left is of the angry and sneering cashier, a middle aged Thai woman spewing venom at tourists night after night, some paying up, others refusing, all getting angry.  It’s a character that is so far removed from the normal Thai character that is full of shy smiles and kind words, and it is a character that I fear this woman has been forced to adopt, pressed into taking one of the worst jobs in Thailand, and funded by stupid people like us. 

Like I say, I’m not proud to have contributed to this.  Vice, it’s not nice.