All The Comforts of Home, in Sichon, Thailand - Day 16: Biking South from Bangkok

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Day 16: Surat Thani to Sichon

The next day we awoke in our new room and J’s knee felt worse than ever. Oh well, we had to travel on, it was time for new adventures. But we felt a bit indignant about the flood of our room and the lack of concern or apology from the staff. We decided we should at least get a refund for that last night.

Unfortunately, the staff did not agree. I went down to the desk alone, explained the situation nicely and requested to speak to the manager. I was told we would get no refund, and the manager, promising to come down, did not appear. Her mistake.

Next time, I sent J. He yelled and demanded to see the manager. This time, she appeared and told J she would not apologize, she would not give us a refund and she would call the police if we did not leave immediately. We had been switched to a new room, what more could we want?

J told her HE would call the police and explain what happened if she did not refund our money. This was not a small mom and pop place, it was a large, nice hotel. And the manager was a bitch. She was a woman used to getting her way and not a woman used to having people disagree with her. But apparently, she did not really want the police arriving, because she refunded our money and told us to leave immediately. We did, right after I’d chugged two black cups of coffee from the lobby.

Revved up with adrenaline from this battle, a bit nervous this woman would send her cronies after us, we biked so fast out of that city. We traveled 16-18 mph uphill for the first hour and a half. (Our usual speed was about 13 mph.) Then, safely out of town, we dared to stop for breakfast. The prettiest young woman served us noodles and banana leaves filled with sticky banana rice. I told her how beautiful I thought she was and she told me how beautiful she thought I was too. J made us leave before she and I fell too in love with each other.

We biked on hard and fast, exhausting ourselves. It began to rain like crazy, the drops pounding down so violently it was funny. We stopped at a fancy restaurant to get out of the rain and eat noodles, the only cheap thing on the menu. Thirty teachers were having a banquet across the restaurant and they informed us that there were three resorts just 2 km away, in this town, Sichon. J’s knee was killing him and I was very sore and cold, so we took the next left off the main road, the way the teacher’s had pointed us.

Sichon was an adorable, lively town. A local guy named Sean pulled his truck over to talk to us. When he told us he was a pharmacist I told him about the problem with J’s knee. He took us to his pharmacy and showed us the ointment that would help J feel better. What fate to run in to this lovely, helpful man who spoke perfect English! He pointed us on, 4 km, in the direction of the beachside resorts.

The first place was beautiful, but falling to pieces, as if the developer ran out of money before he could finish building. The rate was non-negotiable below 750 baht, even though I pointed out to the receptionist that the place was empty and dirty. But she was right, it was architecturally stunning. I guess they really needed to recoup some money.

The next resort offered little bungalows, cute with little else but a mattress centered on the floor of each room. But the bathrooms were outside, attached to the bungalows, sans roof or hot water.

We biked on. We viewed two more places, each deemed inadequate or too expensive. Finally, we reached the fifth and final resort. This place offered adorable bungalows, some new, some old, all with front balconies, set upon a hill overlooking the sea. Soft beds and bathtubs!! Bingo! This was just what we needed for J’s injury. But it was expensive at 900 baht. I was only able to negotiate down to 750 and that rate came with the staff’s scorn. But the room was lovely and modern and had a view of the ocean. A quick walk down the boardwalk allowed me to swim in the warm, blue sea at sunset. J lay alternately in the tub and in bed, his knee a world of pain.

I biked to the closest town, maybe only ½ a mile, but the pitch darkness made it difficult. There I bought delicious Mekong whiskey, ice, coke, limes and rhambutan. The town was tiny and the friendly townspeople were hanging out all around, socializing, drinking, snacking. After oodles of questions from the locals, as apparently visitors to the nearby resorts do not usually come to town, I was on my way back. I had not thought cleverly to bring one of my panniers to port the supplies, and I was now faced with balancing everything on my handlebars. The coke kept falling through its bag and on to the ground, rolling away. At least it wasn’t the glass-bottled Mekong. The ride back was a slow one. But beautiful. No light except the stars from the sky.

J was delighted. Even more so, when I brought the menu from the restaurant to the room, returned to the restaurant to order, and then hand-delivered the food to his bed when it was ready. It was a heavenly evening. J and I ate dinner in bed. I fit in a relaxing bath. We soothed his knee with whiskey and muscle ointment. And we watched American movies on HBO until 2 in the morning.

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