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Published: August 7th 2007
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Traditional Thai Massage
Thai people are a lot smaller than westerners, as can be seen here in this image of Ant getting a tradtional head massage. The happy finish caused a terrible mess. Bangkok. There’s nothing hidden in a name like that. There’s plenty of Bang and no one knows how much Kok, but certainly a bit more than most people bargain for. Unfortunately on our budget we couldn’t afford to indulge in any whoring or sex swap operations, so we were merely voyeurs to the seediness. Even for seasoned Bangkok veteran Jenny, the sight of fat old white men walking round with pretty young Thai girls who look like they’d be happier at their parent’s funeral takes some getting used to. Many a meal was enjoyed sitting at a table next to an unlikely looking couple whose conversation flowed like a drought stricken river. Still, who are we to judge? We were actually quite happy to spend a few days in Bangkok which, in spite of the tacky Khosan Road and the ping pong palladium of PatPong is actually a pretty nice city. Crippled by the cost of visas, we whiled away a few days sitting in parks watching the masses of office workers jog past us by the marathon-load. Those that don’t jog after work tend to congregate for mass outdoor aerobics classes, which made for entertaining viewing.
First on the
Thai Bride
A lucky Thai girls marrying a Thai man rather than an old westerner. They take their photos the day before the wedding, although it looks as if he's already regretting it. list was Patpong to see if we could afford to witness the vagina gymnastics, but the sight of hundreds of bored girls in their underwear couldn’t persuade us both to part with our Baht for the pleasure. Admittedly Ant was willing to overlook the ‘bored’ aspect and focus on the ‘girls’ and ‘underwear’ elements, but it wasn’t to be. So, instead of sex we went in search of violence. Mauy Thai, or Thai boxing was top of our to-do list, until we got to the stadium and saw the prices. Sadly the price of everything seems to be twice as much as the guidebooks suggest - the exchange rate and tourist prices move quicker than the publishing houses that print the Lonely Planet. Again, we walked away unfulfilled, lamenting the plight of the budget traveller, denied the sights of public brutality and ritual humiliation.
We were however able to indulge in Thailand’s other specialty, scamming. The words ‘that’s closed today, but I know another place…’ seem to be the first English that Thai’s learn. In spite of knowing full well how the scammers worked, we seemed to have left our wits in the guesthouse. Amazingly everything we needed ‘was
Miss Marple
Jenny cycling around a Wat in Vientiane. closed’. We needed the post office but it ‘was closed’ for the morning. So we wanted a tourist office but the one we wanted ‘was closed’ but Mr Helpful Bastard was willing to show us to another one that was open. It was also twice the going rate for our visas, which seemed ok until we realised Jenny had doubled instead of halved the exchange rate. We just got out of there in time, but not without wasting most of the day fannying about thanks to the scam-men’s diversion tactics. Fannying in a town about fanny is pretty much all we did, so we were relieved to get moving again with our newly stamped passports clutched eagerly to our newly enhanced chests.
Apart from Bangkok, we missed out Thailand altogether. Jenny’s ‘done’ Thailand (as they say!) and we were both happy to skip it in search of less well-travelled paths. So we hopped onto a scooter, then onto an overnight bus to Laos. An almost uneventful trip ended with the bus driver stealing Ant’s breakfast. We’d spent our last Bhats on some food supplies late at night, and after an early morning passport control stop, we were starving and
Patuxai (Victory Monument)
The Arc De Triomph replica lovingly known to locals as the 'concrete runway' or a 'concrete monstrosity' looking forward to tucking into our final rations. But when we went to find them, they were nowhere to be found. A quick inspection of the bus led to a guilty looking toothless bus driver hiding a familiar looking bag from me. After a seconds thought I settled on the diplomatic course of action and called him a thief. He just smiled, allowing the final crumbs of my breakfast to fall from his mouth. In spite of denying all accusations, he was very happy to wave gloatingly as the bus later pulled away, leaving two very hungry travellers taking solace in the fact we didn’t leave anything more valuable on the bus for our thieving hosts to grab.
This inauspicious start to life in Laos was not what we’d hoped for. Laos is one of the countries we were both looking forward to, as many friends had reported back on what a fantastic place it is. We called the breakfast theft a Thai incident, and we looked ahead to Laos with hopeful expectation. An early sign of life to come arrived when we passed the Beer Laos brewery, unaware at the time that this fine institution is the backbone
Jenny on the banks of Mekong
Jenny on the banks of the Mekong. That's what the title says so I don't see why I should have to describe it again of Laos. Soon we were in Vientiane, a capital city with all the hustle and bustle of a pair of slippers. It’s hard to imagine that there is a more laid back capital in the world, and we were very grateful for that. We weren’t planning on staying long though, so we hired a couple of bikes and head for half of the city’s attractions - that’ll be one then. A sort of mock Arc De Triomphe thing straddles the only main road of any note. Even the sign at the bottom of the structure is apologetic, declaring it a ‘concrete monstrosity’. It wasn’t that bad to be fair, and we clambered up and clambered back down, before climbing back onto our bikes heading for a path along the mighty Mekong River that we’d heard about. The Mekong is the other backbone of this part of Asia, and a bloody big brown one it is too. We found a beautiful little road running along it, coloured in by ornate temples and orange robed monks at every turn, and got our first taste of the famous Laos smiles and welcomes, along with shouts of ‘Sabadee’ from almost everyone we passed. We
You Wat?
A Wat in Laos is a temple. In Cumbria it means 'pardon' or 'what', as in 'Wat the fook's that, like?' or 'Do you fancy a pint or wat?' were starting to like this place already. At about the point when we were furthest from home, the blazing sun buggered off and was replaced by a downpour of biblical proportions. Only hours into our visit to Laos monks were howling with laughter as the sight of two gangly, sodden cyclists squidged past them looking like a pair of drowned rats.
We felt we deserved a beer after all our traumas and settled on the river bank for a BeerLao, whilst the sunset went down. Our hosts also kindly offered us the other local tipple, LaoLao, one of those whisky variants that can fuel hangovers and motor vehicles with equal success. Seconds later we were shitfaced and Jenny sensibly retired. Clearly disorientated, Ant consummated his relationship with BeerLao and a love affair was born.
The rest, as they say is a blur. But in that blur, we transferred ourselves to an altogether different kind of place. And an altogether different experience was about to begin, and a new character was soon to emerge on our travels…
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Jessica
non-member comment
fun, fun , fun
Hiya You guys still sound like youre having an amazing time travelling...not much difference to here really, is it? Drink, drink drink!!!!! ANyway, I am 2.5 weeks away from my due date, so getting nervous and excited! I'm just watching alot of TV, not sleeping and got backache!! Anyway, about to have a nap and go to yoga. Love to u both, love Jessica and Nick xxxxxxx