Hitchhike to India leg 54: Bangkok to Chumphon

It’s been a while dear readers.  It’s been almost a year in fact since I last made a hitch sign, forced (not against my wishes) to temporarily settle down, and – for the time being at least – hang up my thumb.    But time waits for no man, and so once again I step intrepidly into the world, and stick that aforementioned digit out on the side of a road.  I have to make a slight adjustment – Thai’s drive on the left – but what an experience it was.  I’m going to like it here.

But it wasn’t without issues.  I begin lazily in bustling Bangkok and drag myself reluctantly out of the hostel around 9 am.  I set my alarm for 7,  but staring at my pink-eyed face in the mirror with my skin melting off – I realised I needed a full English breakfast and a last one of their killer smoothies.  Refreshed, I take a metro one stop, and attempt to locate the beginnings of the toll road that winds its way through the sprawling preponderance.  Toll booths are bread and butter to the hitchhiker – all cars slow to a stop, everyone can see you, and you can even ask for lifts.  I’ve had experiences where police or other such officials actually flag cars down for me.  I was looking forward to an easy ride out of the city.

Ahhh but it wasn’t to be.  Walking for an eon in 35 degree heat, I realise with disdain that the toll road is the flyover above me.  Somewhere along the line I’ve wandered off course – and in my attempt to rectify it – hoping against hope that the two roads merge – I’ve become completely stranded.  I can only manage to walk at ten minute or less intervals, such is the soaring heat.  After collapsing at a roadside cafe and downing two bottles of water, I make an executive decision.  With my head swimming and skin burning, I choose to take a cab to the city limits – y’know – for safety.  It’s allowed.

Stepping in from the torridity, I’m greeted by an icy blast of air con.  Thank the maker.  The driver speaks no English, but via the medium of my new (and first ever) smart phone – I manage to request a drop off somewhere at the edge of Bangkok.  The conversation went something like this:

ME:  (Pointing at place on map) Here?!  (Pointing at myself) I go here! (Pointing at place on map).

CAB DRIVER:  (Long pause) Yu go ware?  Ware go yu?

ME:  (Pointing at place on map) Here?!  (Pointing at myself) I go here! (Pointing at place on map).

CAB DRIVER:  (Long pause) Yu go ware?  Ware go yu?

ME:  (Pointing at place on map) Here?!  (Pointing at myself) I go here! (Pointing at place on map – this continues for several minutes)  Out Bangkok!  Out Bangkok! No Bangkok!

CAB DRIVER: NO BANGKOK?!

ME: NO BANGKOK!

CAB DRIVER: NO BANGKOK?!

ME: NO BANGKOK!

CAB DRIVER: NO BANGKOK?!

ME: NO BANGKOK!

CAB DRIVER: NO BANGKOK!  AHhhhhh NO BANGKOK!

You get the idea.  It costs me a little more than I wanted to pay – but needs must – otherwise I’ve got no chance of making base tonight and potentially collapsing on the tarmac. He’s astonished when I request he drop me by the side of the busy highway, essentially in the middle of nowhere.  But unbeknownst to him I’ve spotted another of my favourite hitching spots – the forecourt of a petrol station.  Like taking candy from a baby.

Although just as I’m confidently approaching, last night’s Thai green curry says hello.  I’m lucky that Thailand’s roadside amenities are – for the most part – a significant step beyond Kyrgyzstan’s hole-in-the-floor; and I dart to a decent wash room and clear everyone out of it with the results.  But boy does it feel good.  There is really nothing better in the world than depositing a cracking curry shit.

In the spirit of true journalism and in keeping with my “warts and all” philosophy of this blog, I nonetheless decided against including a photo of what I left in that washroom. 

I digress.  Ten pounds lighter and in high spirits, I stand on the busy road with my sign out.  It takes me a little while to work myself up to do it – it’s a completely new country, an unknown quantity to me, and I’ve not done this in a year.  At first it looks a little bleak – cars flying by too fast, but then a driver slows from picking up gas at the pumps behind me, and in broken English we barter a 20 km ride.  I’m back in the game.

Now a few minutes previous I hit on a brain wave.  Outside Liverpool, Thailand has one of the biggest Liverpool FC supporters contingents in the world.  There are loads of ’em.  Added to this, with their beloved king just passing, they’re all in mourning and wearing black.  My Liverpool FC shirt is black.  Perhaps wearing this instead of my lucky (and very bright) Superman T-shirt is the way forward.  But as I climb into the back of the SUV with glorious air-con again, I notice this:

The dude is a Manchester United supporter.  Of all the chances.  It begs the question – would I have still been picked up wearing my Liverpool shirt?  I’m definitely trying it the next time.

His wife beside him is taking selfie pictures of me as they chuckle away to themselves.  It’s a pleasant first ride of the day and I’m disappointed when it comes to an end.  Wishing me well, the couple speed off leaving me in a decent spot – but still not yet out of the city limits.  I did tell you that Bangkok is huge.

As I’m staggering up the road to find some shade, I’ve not even put my sign out when a pickup truck slows ahead of me, and the reverse lights flick on.  There’s one thing I’ve noticed here so far – is that many vehicles have blacked out windows.  This makes it especially challenging to make eye-contact with the drivers (a vital hitch tool) and you never know who you’re going to get when the window rolls down.  It’s a total lottery, and on this occasion amusingly funny.

It’s a little old lady with her daughter driving, and (from what I can make out) around 6 kids in the back.  However this is a pickup after all, and I’m more than a little timorous as I chuck my stuff and myself into the back. Holding on for dear life and flying down the road, I nonetheless realise my error when they very kindly deposit me at a bus stop.  When I attempt to explain that I don’t want a bus (but thank you so much for the ride) she orders me into the back again and we drive back the way we came.  I’m expecting her to drop me in a better spot – but bless her heart – she drops me at a taxi rank.  I thank her very much, wait until she’s on the horizon, and then march back to stand on the highway.

For all of her kindness, this becomes more than a little dangerous.  I’ve heard – like a lot of countries – that Thai people are really willing to help – but they’ll believe that to do so they need to drop you at public transport.  The concept of hitchhiking is relatively alien to them – but with some convincing they will understand what you need.  But with the sun at its highest and no sign of shelter, my head throbs and my skin burns.  Another two drivers swing in, but they aren’t going my way, and nor can I make them understand I don’t want a bus and I need to be anywhere but here.  I have to stop and crouch down a few times, coming very close to blacking out as my head is reeling.  As I’m approaching the bus station once again, it takes all my will power not to give in and buy a ticket.  Then – and once again without asking – a young guy, his girlfriend and his mum reverse back up to meet me.  He can take me to a place called Phetchaburi.  At last I’m going to be out of the city and well on the road.

They speak little English – but they know how to use their smartphones.  She’s on google translate asking questions, while at a stop he shows me the video that’s playing all over the country – I recognise the black and white images as footage of their late king.

“My king” he exclaims to me – and this startles me a little.  I put my hand on my heart and motion my commiseration, but what has struck me is that people here really believe him to be “their” king.  You’d never say “my queen” about old Liz – and nor would you get in trouble for it – something that can happen here.  I muse at how much of this outpouring of grief is genuine.

Regardless, the generosity and hospitality of the Thai people is shining.  The mother offers me her ice coffee but I politely decline, whereupon they stop at a roadside caff and pick me up a sandwich and bottle of water.  A little while later, they drop me in a great spot – still on the highway – and we have a little photo shoot.  Once again I’m sorry to see them go – but confident in their compatriots like-mindedness.  And they don’t disappoint.

Staring and having a good old laugh behind me are a group of scooter taxi drivers, one of whom has bartered me a ride.  ALL THE WAY TO MY DESTINATION.  A truck is unloading wares, and the scooter man has been chatting away to the drivers.  He motions me over and the two rugged faced locals in the cab confirm they’re going to Chumphon.  Usually this would be unbelievable luck – but maybe that’s just Thailand.  After just one day it is without doubt the best hitchhiking country I’ve ever been to.

It turns out to be a great ride too.  I’m still over four hours away from destination, and sometimes I don’t want to chat to drivers or be given the third degree about where I’m from.  It gets a little tedious – especially if the English isn’t good and they insist on talking at you for hours inspite of your protestations that you don’t understand a word.  However here – with the two drivers gassing to each other in Thai – not word from me was spoken.  Beautiful silence the whole ride down, lost in my thoughts and a bag of monkey nuts.

Thai language is funny to listen to – but it can be very off putting. There are so many sounds that are the same in English, but obviously completely different meanings.  Listening to them chatter away – or the wailing coming from the radio – one might think they were speaking English at certain points.  Read the following sentence very fast to be able to speak Thai in an instant:

CAP CAM PETE TONG BAN DIE SEE MY DIE MAN DEE POO CAP

Hahaha…it’s total nonsense of course – means nothing – but you get the idea.

All joking aside, it was back to the task at hand, but once again reaching home base wasn’t without misfortune.  It’s dark by the time I’m dropped at an intersection on the outskirts of the town.  I had delusions of grandeur to make the ferry tonight, but there’s not a cat in hell’s chance that’s going to happen.  Instead I opt to get as close to water as possible, and I can strike for the islands tomorrow.  Then the heavens opened.

Now I’m not talking about a little dribble here.  This is SE Asia after all.  Someone just dropped a bucket of water onto my head.  Sweat is mixing with rain and burning my eyes as I try to march in what I hope is the right direction, but I can’t see a thing (curse you spectacles) and can’t go on much longer so seek refuge in the doorway of a nearby store.  As soon as it’s come it’s gone – but the damage is done.  With soaking wet socks chewing chunks out of my feet, blisters forming, I squelch in the direction of the sea, and stab my hand on a bamboo shoot.

Cursing in pain I think nothing of it until a passer-by motions to my hand.  For some reason it’s opened up a river of blood flowing on my knuckles and fingers – but I’ve left my first aid kit in Bangkok!  I’ve no choice but to push on – and decide that the first guesthouse or hotel will do.  I’ve been walking for miles and miles, mosquitos having a field day, blood drying on my hand, and with no end in sight, when Thailand works it’s magic again.

A sort of taxi-pickup-truck type thing spots my weary, wet form shuffling up the road and screeches to a halt, motioning me in.  I’m surrounded by beaming and curious locals.  One very attractive girl asks where I’m from and what I’m doing when she spies my hitch and INDIA signs.  This receives a chorus of “oooohs” and “ahhhhs” and a rumble of commotion, while the two young Thai boys opposite me stare in wonder.  Within a few moments, the smell of sea air wafts into my nostrils, and they drop me off at a guesthouse right on the water.

I cannot thank them enough, and a short time later I’m fed and watered and being shown a seafront bungalow – very popular (and cheap) accommodation in this country.  I collapse in a lovely little room with my own en suite and that all important air-con, and pass out.  It’s been an incredible day full of highs and lows (but mostly highs) and well deserved sleep rushes over me.  I’m in Chumphon.  Tomorrow I make for the islands – and the horror begins.  Make no mistake dear readers – I’m going to write the shit out of it.

 But not to finish on a downer – today has truly been outstanding.  The kindness and the hospitality of the Thai people is simply wonderful, and that – I feel – is something we can all be doing with right now.  Come and join me.