South East Asia on a Hamstring – February 5

By: Marie Javins

On to Thailand – February 5, 2000

Our 4:30am wakeup call turned out to be a brutal door-pounding. Jo dragged herself out of door to find the Chinese hotel proprietor standing there.

“Wake-up call,” he said, almost evilly.

We were at reception by 5am and all eleven of us, our packs, and one driver crammed ourselves into a long passenger van. It was four hours to the border. We stopped just short of the border and everyone changed their Malay money into Thai bahts.

We reached the border and each paid either one Malay ringet or 10 Thai baht to the driver in exchange for being allowed to go through Customs and into Thailand without leaving the van. We could’ve smuggled a dozen filthy backpacking hippies into Thailand with no problems – not that anyone would’ve known the difference as I shortly discovered that the county is already overrun with them.

At the town of Hat Yai, we left our van and switched to an air-conditioned Thai public luxury bus. The bus had little light fixtures on the ceiling, the kind you’d see in an old lady’s living room.

The Thai roads, like all the roads we’d encountered so far, were well-paved and driving was on the left side of the road. Songthaews were the shared taxis of choice – they were little pickup trucks, the backs lined with wooden benches. A small roof with open sides protects passengers from the elements. People on motorbikes were everywhere, including lots of girls in skirts and platform shoes. Helmets are common but apparently not required.

Signs were in Thai script, utterly unintelligible to me, except for the Roman-script signs like 7-Eleven, Goodrich, Michelin, Kawasaki, and JVC. Vendors lined the roads, my favorite being the pineapple vendor selling from amidst a pile of pineapples.

Our bus drove along through Southern Thailand. It would sometimes slow down and then three young men, bus employees, would jump out and drum up business.

They’d grab luggage and escort someone on board as the bus was already moving. The bus filled up and a video screeched on, showing a Thai television star singing. Then another man joined him, imitating the sound of a buzzer on a TV quiz show. Our busload of Thai people giggled. He imitated it again. The westerners winced. The buzzer went off again and again and our bus was in

alternate hysterics and agony. I was very relieved when we stopped and the video went off.

Five short Thai women and one young man sprinted for the bus, all balancing platters of snacks above their heads. They boarded the stopped bus and shoved the platters in our faces – collections of small bird eggs, fried chicken, pineapple cups, shrimp chips, and rolls of gooey stuff wrapped in banana leaves. I got a seatmate – a smiling woman of about 50, her teeth shiny and her face open and friendly. The vendors spotted another bus and deserted us as quickly as they’d come. Our bus took off again.

Our next stop was at a roadside rest stop. There was a long line for the ladies’ room (some things are universal) so I lined up early. But by the time the bus was ready to take off, three of our party – Pratima, Jo, and one of the Sarah’s – were still in the ladies’ room. I refused to move from the door and told the three bus-boys that three – I motioned three – of our passengers were still missing.

The bus started up slowly and Pratima came towards the bus. I motioned two more to the three bus-boys. They nodded reassuringly and gently motioned me onto the bus. I got on, taking them at face value but still concerned. The bus slowly drove around to the front of the rest stop. I heard our leader say in a low voice, “you can’t hold up the bus.”

“Like hell, you can’t,” I thought to myself, all kinds of expletives running through my mind and remaining unsaid. We weren’t going anywhere without the other two. I’d hold the bus up in any country if my group wasn’t on board yet, even though I’d give said group a tongue-lashing later.

It turned out that I was worried for nothing. The three bus-boys were well aware of the situation, and like sheepdogs herding a flock, they escorted our last two passengers onto the bus. One of the girls, Sarah, had to run and jump on the moving bus. Peter had been aware of this outcome and that was why he hadn’t seemed worried. I silently swore at him some more, knowing that if I had faith in the group leader, I would’ve kept out of it and read my book, knowing that the situation was under control.

Eventually, all the seats were taken and people started sitting on the edges of seats and standing in the aisles. A toothless old man perched precariously

on the edge of my seat and I vacated, motioning him into place. The surrounding Thais beamed approval at me. Lorraine did the same and we both stood in the crowded aisles, reading our books. I pretended I was at home, a typical straphanger on the way to work, until I had a massive, eye-watering, embarrassing coughing fit that brought me crashing back down to earth.

We arrived at Krabi in the late afternoon. Peter gave us the choice of going straight to the resort or into Krabi and then to the resort. We chose Krabi first – none of us had been aware that there would be a large distance in between us and the nearest town. In Krabi, I located some raspberry-flavored codeine cough syrup and a pepperoni baguette.

I stopped in at a travel agency and inquired about my options for leaving my group. It appeared that it would be easy for me to get to Bangkok on my own.

Gerry and Lorraine stopped into a travel agency as well, and noted with great humor that the brochures of the local resorts featured not charming beach shots but photos of clean, western-style toilets.

The Dawn of Happiness resort was not what I had anticipated. “Resort” is often used to describe luxurious places, but this was a basic accommodation. Ceiling fans, flush with buckets of water, showering using a small hose and cold water, 17 km from town.

These things had been charming before, when we were in Indonesia. Now, with our sour attitudes, we were resentful.

What a lovely vacation I was having. Surely later I could analyze this as a clinical study on group dynamics and the disintegration of trust. But for now,

I just knew I had to get away quickly and soon.