I left Phitsanulok with a heavy heart that Wednesday morning, still wearing her perfume from the tearful goodbye outside Naresuan University. We were both trying not to show it, but it was easy to see that we were both fighting back tears, which was unusual for such a short connection.
I dreamt back to the months before on Facebook and Skype, and realised that this connection was perhaps deeper than I had initially assumed. Over the course of the last few months I had been so caught up in getting to know this girl that I had stopped paying attention to the passage of time.
Over the course of the next 5 hours, instead of catching up on much needed sleep I relived that weekend over and over, and played back the events of the last few months, trying to make sense of what happened.
I arrived back in Rangsit shortly after noon and took a van down to the house. The house was abandoned save for the two cats, which was a welcome surprise. I unpacked my bag and plugged in my laptop and pulled out my notepad and started to write again for the first time in almost a year. I wrote about her.
Saturday's gone, but I know where I'm going next Saturday.
Wednesday, 14 August 2013
Sunday, 11 August 2013
Blue Monday, Final Tuesday
I awoke on Monday to the smell of fresh coffee and a naked girl. She crept up next to me in bed, and we fell asleep again as our coffee got cold. It was a public holiday, and it was to be our last day together. I bathed in her perfume as I dreamt of all that was and could be.
We stirred around noon, and tried to find a place that was open for lunch. We had no plans for the day, and most places were closed, so we decided to try and find some liquor and spend the rest of the day in the room. We drove to maybe 5 or 6 places trying to find someone willing to sell, but alas - no luck.
I tried my luck one last time at the hotel, and to our surprise the hotel was more than willing to accommodate our sacrilege. We sat on the patio outside the room drinking Leo, smoking and talking and listening. We could talk for hours about nothing, and it was wonderful.
The sun set on Phitsanulok and we realised my time was growing short, so we sullenly set out to get me a ticket back to the concrete jungle of Krung-Thep, even though I no longer had any desire to return. We tried to get a bus ticket in town, but they were sold out. Shit. We tried to get a van, but they were sold out. Shit.
Fuckit, I said. I'll stay another day I thought - my Tuesday class had already been cancelled for some reason or another. I would depart early Wednesday morning. I bought a ticket to Bangkok for 8am Wednesday morning, content in the fact that I had at least one more day here.
She wasn't going to waste this chance, and decided to call in sick on Tuesday.
We would have another full day together... and there was no way it was going to be the last.
We stirred around noon, and tried to find a place that was open for lunch. We had no plans for the day, and most places were closed, so we decided to try and find some liquor and spend the rest of the day in the room. We drove to maybe 5 or 6 places trying to find someone willing to sell, but alas - no luck.
I tried my luck one last time at the hotel, and to our surprise the hotel was more than willing to accommodate our sacrilege. We sat on the patio outside the room drinking Leo, smoking and talking and listening. We could talk for hours about nothing, and it was wonderful.
The sun set on Phitsanulok and we realised my time was growing short, so we sullenly set out to get me a ticket back to the concrete jungle of Krung-Thep, even though I no longer had any desire to return. We tried to get a bus ticket in town, but they were sold out. Shit. We tried to get a van, but they were sold out. Shit.
Fuckit, I said. I'll stay another day I thought - my Tuesday class had already been cancelled for some reason or another. I would depart early Wednesday morning. I bought a ticket to Bangkok for 8am Wednesday morning, content in the fact that I had at least one more day here.
She wasn't going to waste this chance, and decided to call in sick on Tuesday.
We would have another full day together... and there was no way it was going to be the last.
Thursday, 8 August 2013
Rainforest Resort
Our plans to visit Wat Pha Sorn Kaew were curbed by the rain, and we had neglected to lunch, so we turned around. We left Route 12 in the pitter-patter of light rain, sailing once more across the smooth highway. The roads in Thailand aren't normally very well maintained, so this was a rare treat. I was content to stop at any old place along the road that served Thai food, but Fairy had something specific in mind, so we ignored our hunger and drove on.
As we passed the waterfall again she started to slow down and we pulled into a parking lot of the Rain Forest Resort, a beautiful lodge on the Khek riverbank.
If you ever get a chance, it's worth checking out. It's a luxury resort next to the Kangsong waterfall, surrounded by the lush Thai tropical rainforest of the Thung Salaeng Luang National Park. The pampered cottages are sprawled out between each other, nestled discreetly in the forest in perfect harmony with nature. The distance between them offers a sense of privacy and solitude. We wandered down through the resort and came to the river, where we settled in an open-air sala.
Upon request the staff appeared, bearing beer and exquisite club sandwiches. We were hungry, but both of us looked in shock at the sheer size of the portions on the plate in front of us.
We languidly lazed about on this Sunday in the sala, talking, eating, drinking, soothed by the soft, sensual sounds of the river running over rocks. It was tranquil, and it made me hate Bangkok. I did not want to leave this place. If this was what Phitsanulok had to offer, I never wanted to leave. I thought back to a line from a song by Mark Lanegan & Isobel Campbell, "You can't stay, but you'll never leave..." and realised this was exactly how I felt about both Phitsanulok, and the little fairy lying beside me.
The sun began to set and we made our way back to the car, briefly stopping by the aviary as we awaited the bill- they keep a few macaws and pheasants in there.
The town is only a fourty minute drive away, and soon we were at our hotel. The time we had together was growing short, so we spent the rest of it lazing about, simply enjoying each others company.
She left around 11pm and went back to her mother's house, called me once she got into bed to say goodnight.
"Can you tell me a bed-time story?"
If you ever get a chance, it's worth checking out. It's a luxury resort next to the Kangsong waterfall, surrounded by the lush Thai tropical rainforest of the Thung Salaeng Luang National Park. The pampered cottages are sprawled out between each other, nestled discreetly in the forest in perfect harmony with nature. The distance between them offers a sense of privacy and solitude. We wandered down through the resort and came to the river, where we settled in an open-air sala.
Upon request the staff appeared, bearing beer and exquisite club sandwiches. We were hungry, but both of us looked in shock at the sheer size of the portions on the plate in front of us.
We languidly lazed about on this Sunday in the sala, talking, eating, drinking, soothed by the soft, sensual sounds of the river running over rocks. It was tranquil, and it made me hate Bangkok. I did not want to leave this place. If this was what Phitsanulok had to offer, I never wanted to leave. I thought back to a line from a song by Mark Lanegan & Isobel Campbell, "You can't stay, but you'll never leave..." and realised this was exactly how I felt about both Phitsanulok, and the little fairy lying beside me.
The sun began to set and we made our way back to the car, briefly stopping by the aviary as we awaited the bill- they keep a few macaws and pheasants in there.
The town is only a fourty minute drive away, and soon we were at our hotel. The time we had together was growing short, so we spent the rest of it lazing about, simply enjoying each others company.
She left around 11pm and went back to her mother's house, called me once she got into bed to say goodnight.
"Can you tell me a bed-time story?"
Friday, 26 July 2013
Route 12
There's nothing better than being woken up by a beautiful girl jumping into bed with you with a fresh cup of hot coffee on a Sunday morning. I was exhausted from my journey the previous day, but the coffee helped. If I had my way, we would never have left the room that day, and for a little while at least, I got my wish.
It was almost afternoon as I hit the shower and got dressed. We stopped off for brunch at a local restaurant and discussed the plans for the day. We decided to drive out to a temple called Wat Pha Sorn Kaew. We filled up the tank, cranked up a Slash cd, and hit the open road.
We took Route 12, heading west, stopping off at a farm stall across from a waterfall on the Khek river, on the edge of the Thung Salaeng Luang National Park. We walked down to the river, the riverbank dotted with Thai families hiding from the sun in the shade or under umbrellas. I still find it odd that everyone wears shirts when they go swimming. I remember in Pattaya you could see who was from the North by the fact that they would not remove their oversized swimming shirts and swimming trunks, while the Southerners and locals showed off their bodies in tight bikinis.
We took a walk over the rocks as made our way to the waterfall. It was quite low apparently, but still bigger than the other so called "waterfalls" I had seen in Thailand before, which usually amounted to a trickle of water running into a pond. We watched for a little while, a man trying to fish in rock pond where fish had likely been trapped when the waterfall was stronger, before we made our way back to the car, and back onto Route 12.
Singing along as we sailed across the curved highways, I got to see a part of Thailand I had not seen before - the lush jungle on either side of the highway, dotted with farmlands from time to time, open pastures rolling over hills. I began to feel at peace - the last time I saw so much green was on St. Patrick's Day.
Nature called, so we stopped off at a touristy spot called Route 12 (after the highway), which was an Americana themed roadside stop, complete with cowboy hats and corndogs, blasting Bo Diddley, Buddy Holly and Elvis - the smell of french fries hanging in the air... This was an unexpected, yet pleasant surprise.
After some unfortunate confusion caused by me walking into the wrong bathroom stall, we sat on the scenic overlook, having a drink and a smoke. It was peaceful and relaxing, when we weren't dodging out of the frame as people were taking photos around us. I slotted five baht into the jukebox and asked her to pick a song. She selected Knife, by Rockwell. We had our last cigarette sitting outside the ice cream shop with the jukebox blaring, a tender moment, as crowds of people shuffled past us oblivious to all else but the rain that was starting to slowly patter down.
It was almost afternoon as I hit the shower and got dressed. We stopped off for brunch at a local restaurant and discussed the plans for the day. We decided to drive out to a temple called Wat Pha Sorn Kaew. We filled up the tank, cranked up a Slash cd, and hit the open road.
We took Route 12, heading west, stopping off at a farm stall across from a waterfall on the Khek river, on the edge of the Thung Salaeng Luang National Park. We walked down to the river, the riverbank dotted with Thai families hiding from the sun in the shade or under umbrellas. I still find it odd that everyone wears shirts when they go swimming. I remember in Pattaya you could see who was from the North by the fact that they would not remove their oversized swimming shirts and swimming trunks, while the Southerners and locals showed off their bodies in tight bikinis.
We took a walk over the rocks as made our way to the waterfall. It was quite low apparently, but still bigger than the other so called "waterfalls" I had seen in Thailand before, which usually amounted to a trickle of water running into a pond. We watched for a little while, a man trying to fish in rock pond where fish had likely been trapped when the waterfall was stronger, before we made our way back to the car, and back onto Route 12.
Singing along as we sailed across the curved highways, I got to see a part of Thailand I had not seen before - the lush jungle on either side of the highway, dotted with farmlands from time to time, open pastures rolling over hills. I began to feel at peace - the last time I saw so much green was on St. Patrick's Day.
Nature called, so we stopped off at a touristy spot called Route 12 (after the highway), which was an Americana themed roadside stop, complete with cowboy hats and corndogs, blasting Bo Diddley, Buddy Holly and Elvis - the smell of french fries hanging in the air... This was an unexpected, yet pleasant surprise.
After some unfortunate confusion caused by me walking into the wrong bathroom stall, we sat on the scenic overlook, having a drink and a smoke. It was peaceful and relaxing, when we weren't dodging out of the frame as people were taking photos around us. I slotted five baht into the jukebox and asked her to pick a song. She selected Knife, by Rockwell. We had our last cigarette sitting outside the ice cream shop with the jukebox blaring, a tender moment, as crowds of people shuffled past us oblivious to all else but the rain that was starting to slowly patter down.
Thursday, 25 July 2013
Fairy
Sometimes, when you meet people, it just feel like you've known them for years. It was like this with Fairy, even before I travelled north to go visit her. We had met at a concert the previous year, but never remained in contact. Over the course of the year we would sometimes randomly bump into each other in Bangkok, but the exchange would not last for more than a few minutes.
After Songkran I saw her on Facebook and added her, and everything just became so easy. Looking back at the dialogue over the last three months, I can clearly see my intentions were there from the first day, the text littered with subtle flirtings. It started out slow but we gradually began to message each other more and more, and it just wasn't enough anymore, eventually turning to Skype. I remember sleepless work nights, lying down on the couch at 4am, with neither of us wanting to go to bed, idly chatting and joking. There was so much to say, and so much to learn about each other.
Now that she was in front of me, there was a nervous air about, and I was unsure of myself for the first time. Since I had arrived so late, the hotel I was meant to stay at had been fully booked, so we set out to find alternate accommodation for me. It was late, and we were hungry, so the plan was to make a quick stop at the hotel and head out for dinner.
She had an idea of where to go, so it wasn't long before I checked into a hotel on the outskirts of town - tired, hot and sweaty, I needed a shower before going anywhere. She fired up her laptop to continue working while I went to go clean-up.
I emerged refreshed and feeling like a new person. I lay down on the bed beside her, heart racing, and we started to talk. It felt strange, and weird, and she even joked about pretending there was a Skype window around my face. I knew there was only one way to get rid of this feeling, so I kissed her. All that strangeness melted away with a kiss that had received two weeks of anticipation. Her entire body shuddered and the hours melted away as I explored her body for the elusive tattoo she had mentioned during one of our previous conversations.
I grabbed a Leo from the fridge and settled onto the porch while she recuperated her energy, and a short while later we departed for the night market, where I was to be sacrificed to some ancient mosquito God as we enjoyed dinner on one of Phitsanulok's river-front restaurants whilst listening to the smooth sounds of classic rock rolling down the river.
She began to laugh and grabbed my arm, motioning to the other side of the restaurant. An old Thai granny had gotten up and started to do the twist. It wasn't long before her family joined her. She seemed so alive and full of energy.
It was getting late, and her own grandmother was waiting up for her at home, so we made our way back to the hotel, stopping at a Tesco so I could get some essential supplies. I walked up to the counter and asked "ao condom haaw yai na khrap". I always laugh a little at how nervous the Tesco girls become when you ask that, so I didn't pay attention to what she was doing. I paid her and grabbed the Tesco bag with my dirty little secrets inside.
We got back to the hotel and I insisted that I couldn't quite remember where that tattoo was, I needed another look - she agreed. At a pivotal moment I grabbed the bag from the Tesco as it's contents fell out.
Sometimes I just really hate this country. She laughed, I cried and cursed the Tesco girl.
After Songkran I saw her on Facebook and added her, and everything just became so easy. Looking back at the dialogue over the last three months, I can clearly see my intentions were there from the first day, the text littered with subtle flirtings. It started out slow but we gradually began to message each other more and more, and it just wasn't enough anymore, eventually turning to Skype. I remember sleepless work nights, lying down on the couch at 4am, with neither of us wanting to go to bed, idly chatting and joking. There was so much to say, and so much to learn about each other.
Now that she was in front of me, there was a nervous air about, and I was unsure of myself for the first time. Since I had arrived so late, the hotel I was meant to stay at had been fully booked, so we set out to find alternate accommodation for me. It was late, and we were hungry, so the plan was to make a quick stop at the hotel and head out for dinner.
She had an idea of where to go, so it wasn't long before I checked into a hotel on the outskirts of town - tired, hot and sweaty, I needed a shower before going anywhere. She fired up her laptop to continue working while I went to go clean-up.
I emerged refreshed and feeling like a new person. I lay down on the bed beside her, heart racing, and we started to talk. It felt strange, and weird, and she even joked about pretending there was a Skype window around my face. I knew there was only one way to get rid of this feeling, so I kissed her. All that strangeness melted away with a kiss that had received two weeks of anticipation. Her entire body shuddered and the hours melted away as I explored her body for the elusive tattoo she had mentioned during one of our previous conversations.
I grabbed a Leo from the fridge and settled onto the porch while she recuperated her energy, and a short while later we departed for the night market, where I was to be sacrificed to some ancient mosquito God as we enjoyed dinner on one of Phitsanulok's river-front restaurants whilst listening to the smooth sounds of classic rock rolling down the river.
She began to laugh and grabbed my arm, motioning to the other side of the restaurant. An old Thai granny had gotten up and started to do the twist. It wasn't long before her family joined her. She seemed so alive and full of energy.
It was getting late, and her own grandmother was waiting up for her at home, so we made our way back to the hotel, stopping at a Tesco so I could get some essential supplies. I walked up to the counter and asked "ao condom haaw yai na khrap". I always laugh a little at how nervous the Tesco girls become when you ask that, so I didn't pay attention to what she was doing. I paid her and grabbed the Tesco bag with my dirty little secrets inside.
We got back to the hotel and I insisted that I couldn't quite remember where that tattoo was, I needed another look - she agreed. At a pivotal moment I grabbed the bag from the Tesco as it's contents fell out.
Wednesday, 24 July 2013
Looking Back
Phitsanulok truly is a Paradise City. Everything is green and the girl is oh-so-pretty.
In a way my weekend there showed me what life in Thailand could really be like, if you let it. I should have listened to McCartney a long time ago, and just let it be.
For the last two years I put my life on the back-burner looking for something I had found years previously but had somehow allowed to wither away.
Instead of continuing my sordid affair with Krung-Thep looking in vein, for something I already had, in dimly lit sois littered with homeless dogs and dull eyed beat folks who live the same day every day I could have been tuning into the true beat in Siam, getting turned on and dropping off the grid.
If you ever come here, don't sit in in your five star hotel drinking frappes or sipping cocktails on a rooftop bar. It is all a facade meant to cover the real beauty here. There's an energy in Thailand that cannot be captured, cannot be manufactured, and you cannot find it in the comfy recesses of a hammock.
The same thing applies to every country though, every city, every town.
Get out of the hammock and go experience something new.
You never know what you will find there.
.JPG)
In a way my weekend there showed me what life in Thailand could really be like, if you let it. I should have listened to McCartney a long time ago, and just let it be.
For the last two years I put my life on the back-burner looking for something I had found years previously but had somehow allowed to wither away.
Instead of continuing my sordid affair with Krung-Thep looking in vein, for something I already had, in dimly lit sois littered with homeless dogs and dull eyed beat folks who live the same day every day I could have been tuning into the true beat in Siam, getting turned on and dropping off the grid.
If you ever come here, don't sit in in your five star hotel drinking frappes or sipping cocktails on a rooftop bar. It is all a facade meant to cover the real beauty here. There's an energy in Thailand that cannot be captured, cannot be manufactured, and you cannot find it in the comfy recesses of a hammock.
The same thing applies to every country though, every city, every town.
Get out of the hammock and go experience something new.
You never know what you will find there.
.JPG)
Sunday, 21 July 2013
Phitsanulok
I was filled with a mixture of excitement and trepidation as I boarded the bus to Phitsanulok. Tired, haggard, hungry and a little bit hung-over from my adventures with yadong the previous night, it did not help that the bus was late. I had spent well over two hours meandering around the station, starting on a pleasant note with a full English breakfast and a kaffae ron - it eventually devolved into walking around in circles nervously smoking.
When the 659 eventually pulled up the wiry bus 'host' hastily refused me access to his coach, my heart sinking when he hastily yelled "No space!" at my general direction. I looked on in confusion as he then proceeded to let two Thai nationals board the 'full' bus. I had been waiting a lot longer than these two bastards, so I was about to let out a barrage of angkrit-accented Thai slurs in a burst of anger reserved only for Farang who had reached the last reserve of patience and could not care less about losing face as long as it got shit done, when I paused for a moment, drew a breath, and asked as calmly as I could why they could board and I could not - giving the wiry man a chance to avoid the hell-fury I had been ready to unleash a few moments before.
I rolled my eyes at his surprise that I could string together a heavily accented string of Thai words that would be scoffed at by scholars, but managed to convey my question. After a few moments he managed to recollect himself and explain that all the seats were taken - I would have to stand. I laughed and told him it was fine, I didn't mind and shoved past him on the bus. She said it was only 2 hours, I thought as my mind drifted back to her - I could stand in a cramped bus for two hours...
It was simple math of course. Lop Buri is two hours north of Bangkok, Phitsanulok is four hours away. 4-2=2 right? Yeah... Not in Thailand. Not when you get on the wrong bus. Not when you stop at every stall, farm and village as you zigzag west and east whilst heading north into Central Thailand.
Every thirty minutes my phone would ring.
"Where are you now? Where are you now? How long do you think?"
"My GPS says four hours...?"
"Don't trust the GPS."
"Ok."
I should have trusted the GPS. It would have been faster to take the bus/train back to Bkk and get the right bus up north.
After a grueling five hours, I eventually reached my port of call. Tired, angry, hungry and sore, I could eventually call her and say "Hey, I'm here."
As I waited for her to come pick me up I looked around for a place to wait. Preferably, a place where I could have a drink and a smoke to calm my nerves. No such place stood out, so I propped myself up against a pillar in a side soi, put on some Amon Amarth and lit a cigarette.
When the 659 eventually pulled up the wiry bus 'host' hastily refused me access to his coach, my heart sinking when he hastily yelled "No space!" at my general direction. I looked on in confusion as he then proceeded to let two Thai nationals board the 'full' bus. I had been waiting a lot longer than these two bastards, so I was about to let out a barrage of angkrit-accented Thai slurs in a burst of anger reserved only for Farang who had reached the last reserve of patience and could not care less about losing face as long as it got shit done, when I paused for a moment, drew a breath, and asked as calmly as I could why they could board and I could not - giving the wiry man a chance to avoid the hell-fury I had been ready to unleash a few moments before.
I rolled my eyes at his surprise that I could string together a heavily accented string of Thai words that would be scoffed at by scholars, but managed to convey my question. After a few moments he managed to recollect himself and explain that all the seats were taken - I would have to stand. I laughed and told him it was fine, I didn't mind and shoved past him on the bus. She said it was only 2 hours, I thought as my mind drifted back to her - I could stand in a cramped bus for two hours...
It was simple math of course. Lop Buri is two hours north of Bangkok, Phitsanulok is four hours away. 4-2=2 right? Yeah... Not in Thailand. Not when you get on the wrong bus. Not when you stop at every stall, farm and village as you zigzag west and east whilst heading north into Central Thailand.
Every thirty minutes my phone would ring.
"Where are you now? Where are you now? How long do you think?"
"My GPS says four hours...?"
"Don't trust the GPS."
"Ok."
I should have trusted the GPS. It would have been faster to take the bus/train back to Bkk and get the right bus up north.
After a grueling five hours, I eventually reached my port of call. Tired, angry, hungry and sore, I could eventually call her and say "Hey, I'm here."
As I waited for her to come pick me up I looked around for a place to wait. Preferably, a place where I could have a drink and a smoke to calm my nerves. No such place stood out, so I propped myself up against a pillar in a side soi, put on some Amon Amarth and lit a cigarette.
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