The Continuing Saga Of Travelman's Travels in Thailand: Goodbye Bangkok, Good Morning Ko Tao!

I’m in a coffee shop on Khao Tao and the sky has a slow leak. It’s as though the rumpled blankets of clouds are sending a warning, we can let loose at anytime, so don’t test us. It's 0700, I’m starting my open water certification training today at 1700. I’m moving from my crappy hostel to the grounds of Big Blue Diving company for the next four nights.

Monks walk by outside the coffee shop window as I write this. They picked up their breakfast outside a restaurant moments ago. All of them carry these pots. I'm uneducated on the subject of monks, I don't know if these are what they use as backpacks, or if it's some kind of rite of passage, like the high school assignment when you have to carry an egg around for two weeks without breaking it. An Asian muzak version of Careless Whisper by Wham is playing softly in the shop as they pass. You can see one of them holding his takeout...

I left Bangkok the day before yesterday. Time gets tangled up when traveling into and through Thailand. Two days in airports and on airplanes, Two nights in Bangkok (No epic chess matches, “I get my kicks above the waistline, Sunshine.”), one night on a sleeper train, and my first night on a Island where you can buy a t-shirt that reads “live and let dive.”

The NapPark hostel in Bangkok was a great place to stay. They arranged my travel to the island for a minimal fee, train ticket and ferry ride with a shuttle bus nestled in between. I hung out in the hostel most of the day, had a breakfast of noodle soup brewed by a street vendor in a seriously charming alley tucked away from the crowds, walked around the area without straying too far, and tried three different kinds of stuffed dumplings sold by a street vendor. I don’t know what was in the dumplings but I liked the first and third one.

Travelman’s useless travel tip number one: avoid the second dumpling. You can thank me for that tip anytime.

Here’s a couple pics of my breakfast. A mother and grandmother made a brief appearance in front of the laundromat. The mother and child were wrapped in bath towels. The child had no problem with nude scenes, as the mother removed the towel and wiped the child dry before rewrapping it around the little girl of three years. Children on their way to school ran down the alley way, one sported a Superman backpack, a small dog chased after them, and the soup lady and her mother laughed with delight at the scene. I took pictures of the area and worked up a sweat as I ate my spicy soup using chopsticks and feeling quite cosmopolitan...

Yeah, I like sprouts, what about it?

And here's some pics of my short walk. People get parking tickets in Thailand too, street lights are detailed, motorbikes take the lead at intersections...

And attentioin to my family back home , they have a Swensons...

And some kind of fish, head and all...

In the late afternoon the hostel served a complimentary dinner of Jack fruit (a tasty fruit that looks like yellow peppers), another fruit that looked like large grapes with a grey skin that gets peeled before eating the white grape-like morsel inside, sticky rice fried in coconut milk and wrapped in banana leaves, and an exotic Thai dish they called “chicken” (pronounced chick-en, rhymes with thicken) which they served grilled and cut into pieces. The hostel had games planned as well, but I left for my train shortly before they began. Travelman’s useless travel tip number two: don’t eat the banana leaf, it’s just a wrapper.

I decided to walk the hour walk to the Bangkok train station even though it was pouring rain. I wanted to experience the city on the the sidewalk instead of the seat of a taxi. First I wore my raincoat, but it quickly became too hot. It reminded me of a something a high school wrestler would wear to sweat out water weight before weigh in. I took it off and wrapped it around my red day backpack because unlike the electronic equipment in the pack, I wouldn’t short circuit out if I got too wet.

Many of the sidewalks are covered by building overhangs or tarps so I only spent 1/2 the time directly exposed to the downpour. The walk was a lesson in playing slow motion games of chicken with motorized vehicles. The traffic was dense, every intersection was completely clogged with cars, tuk tuks, motorbikes, trucks, and pedestrians. In order to cross the street, you had to make a move in front of a car with a hesitant air of confidence. It was a game of timing that even those with slow reflexes could master. After a few crossings you find the rhythm of the streets.

Here’s a pic I took from a bridge near the train station...

I continued to think I was lost. I checked my gps repeatedly. Eventually the screen began to do its own thing because it had become covered in thin drops of water. I ducked into the entrance to a parking garage when I knew I was close to the station but unsure of exactly which street to turn onto. The attendant spoke no English and flagged down a passerby who also spoke no English. I was tempted to make choo-choo sounds and walk around like I was a train, gently pumping my fist in the air as though I was pulling the train’s steam pipe, but I decided to give up and move on instead. I thanked them, almost saying gracias, like they were Mexicans in California, and headed back into the rain.

Finally, I reached the train station. My throat was itchy from the walk. I’d seen many locals wearing hospital masks as they navigated the city streets. Now I knew why, not even the rain cleaned the air. I felt a bit like Decker in Bladerunner as I entered the station through a back door alongside the train platforms.

Here’s what I saw upon my grand entrance into the ticketing hall

Coming soon! Part Two: Stand for the one, the only, the royalty with the mostalty, The King.
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