Well, what d'ya know? My blog posts are like London buses. None come for ages, and just when you give up on believing one ever will, three turn up at once. What can I say? Life's taken over since we got back and other things took priority. But a few days of sitting at the dining table and not allowing myself to do my new most favourite thing - pumping iron - until I'd written at least two posts - was all it took to crank out the final few instalments of our travels. So, in the last post, I told you all about how Imran nearly got us arrested in Malaysia, right? You can only imagine my apprehension about us going to Thailand, especially the capital city. There's a reason why the Hangover films are set in Vegas and Bangkok: they're the two seediest, most hedonistic, sex-fuelled places I can imagine on earth. The nicest thing you can say about them is they're dodgy as hell; at worst, you don't even want to think about the exploitation and abuse that goes on as part of the sex trade. In Thailand, it's not secretive. It's so out in the open that it makes you feel sick to your stomach sometimes. Western guys are everywhere looking for a good time, be they paedophiles proudly walking the streets with little Thai boys, 20-somethings unsure of their sexuality falling literally into the hands of ladyboys but pretending they were honestly searching for women, or just the good ol' desperate lads who can't get laid back home and can't afford to pay for it in pounds or dollars. I don't know what it is about Thailand that makes the debasement of its people and culture so acceptable and why this country itself created and heavily promote this scene; I've read loads, watched many documentaries and talked to locals - even monks - to figure it out but it's complicated and long winded. Therefore, rather than subject you to my internal debate and ponderings this time, I've decided I'm going to take the piss instead, but just in case it sounds like my light-hearted musings show a lack of principles and abhoration for a world I despise, let it be known I think sometimes life's too short to get deep and upset about a situation you're not going to contribute to changing yourself.
Fun Fact time! Thailand is the world's largest consumer of ping pong balls. (I made that up so can't attest to its validity.) For the blissfully unaware among you, it's not really known where these balls go; everyone just knows where they come from. Or should I say, where they shoot out from. Who knew you could make a living from being excellent at your pelvic floor muscle exercises? If the ping pong shows aren't crazy enough, walking the streets of Bangkok means you'll be stopped every twenty metres with a MENU of tricks you can see women perform. Our minds boggled at the thought of some of them: smoking cigarettes, blowing out candles, blowing horns and whistles, shooting darts at balloons. I mean, seriously? I wonder if the girls put that on their CVs in the Skills section: "My nether region has deadly accurate aim and makes my kids' birthday parties so much more entertaining for the other childrens' dads. Tan Som Junior, on the other hand, is usually very upset that his cake has been ruined." Hobbies and Interests? "When I'm stressed, my vagina has a fag." We were kind of in awe and sickened at the same time. "No, thank you," we told the men trying to entice us into going to one of these shows. "Unless you've got a chick who can cook us dinner and deal the hands in a game of poker with her bits, we're not really interested."
Transvestites are as common as flip flops in Thailand. In fact, 'ladyboys' are inherently part of the Thai identity. Why it's so common, so routine and so tolerated is difficult to figure out and I guess there are both positive and negative reasons behind it. It's just a bit strange to get your head around. Thailand, despite the seedy sex trade, is at heart a conservative country but young lads often leave villages as men and return as women, and not even their grandads bat an eyelid. I guess whatever brings home the money is ok by them. So many Thai guys become chicks that if you count them as girls, surely over 90% of the population is now female. (I plucked that number out of thin air, by the way.) Crazy, considering sex changes aren't actually legally recognised here but performed more an anywhere else in the world. Who are the other 10%? Probably ex-pats from our side of the world looking for a wife with a working penis. ("Aww, its just one of those cute little things she has, like the mole on her elbow and the beard.") There's no better way of showing how well you're going up in the world than telling your Mama in Gloucestershire you've got an exotic STD courtesy of your missus with the hairy balls.
There's a saying that 'the most beautiful women in Thailand, aren't.' And by golly, let me tell you, I think it's true! For some reason, I had an incredibly attuned 'tradar' in Bangkok - my transvestite radar. I could spot 'chicks with dicks' from a mile away and got into some hot and heavy debates with Imran and our friend Sally about their gender status. Some were just unbelievably stunning; so beautiful that I wished I looked like them (and I'd probably tolerate having a penis to do so.) If you've not seen the documentary about the Thai Miss Tiffany beauty pageants, just google it and try to convince me you'd automatically know the contestants had chest fluff. And guys, check out Nok Yollada and tell me you wouldn't give Thailand's most famous transsexual a second glance on the street.
Chiang Mai: mosquito central. There were plagues of mosquitos here; the worst on our entire trip. We really loathe those little gits. Chiang Mai is located in the far north of Thailand and is a cultural hothouse; there are over 300 temples here. The vibe of the place really reflects this; it's chilled out to the extreme, peaceful and serene. We hung out at the temples where there were hardly any tourists and prayed, meditated and just chatted until the sun started to set outside. Our best day in this city - and one of the most memorable times of our travels as a whole - was when we talked to a couple of young Buddhist monks for hours. They wanted to practice their English and give information about their faith to those interested in hearing it and we wanted to discuss the meaning of life. Fair trade, surely? No question was off limits. We discussed everything from Facebook to languages to how they deal with sexual urges when they pass a pretty woman (hoping she is actually a woman, of course) and, leading on from that, the Buddhist ideas on sex and gender. Up to this point in time, I was the one leading Imran in any kind of meditation practice; he generally did it if he could be bothered or if he just happened to be in the room when I was starting one. But those monks gave him a 'penny drop' moment. "It is so simple," they said. "When you have physical hunger, you feed yourself with food and that hunger goes. When you are stressed or angry or sad or simply feeling 'not quite right', you are mentally and emotionally hungry. Meditation is just the 'food' to stop that hunger. If you do not give yourself mental and emotional food regularly, as if you are on a diet, you will not be as healthy as you can be. And you will always be a little bit hungry all the time; that is, you will always have a little bit of stress or unhappiness." Beautifully expressed. So true and simple common sense. They're a wise bunch, those monks. It took twenty seconds for them to explain that to Imran and yet the shift in his thinking has been vast. Nowadays he's the one who suggests a quickie to me when he's got a free twenty minutes (steady!!) Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase 'food for thought', eh? As we said our goodbyes and left the monks sitting in the sunshine with the bright rays reflecting off their saffron-coloured robes and emphasising their heavenly luminosity, I wondered if they had any idea of the amount of people they must touch deeply with their words. They've probably changed many lives, in small and large ways, and they don't even know it.
A couple of months later we were back in Thailand and, despite our experiences since Chiang Mai continuing to make us think deeply about the hippie side of life, we were now in Bangkok and there's no way we could be deep and meaningful here. This city chews you up and spits you out so the best thing to do is just make the experience as quick as possible and enjoy the ride. We wanted street food and martial arts: Pad Thai and Muay Thai. Partying would've also been a welcome activity but every lively scene was marred by sleaze and a lot of REALLY stupid tourists. Ladyboy encounters are the norm here, to the extent that we saw t-shirts in the markets with a picture of a Western bloke snogging a Thai lady who's suddenly gotten an erection. You've got to think there's a bit more to the reason guys come here on lads' holidays than mere fun. Either they just come for the smut and strippers based on reputation and simply hope to avoid the 'she males' (which just makes them very, very sad) or they're kinda hoping for some alternative experience of their own. Come on, it's all in the name! 'Bangkok' tells you every thing you need to know about this city because that's EXACTLY what happens here on a daily basis! A more apt and perfect name? I don't think so. Maybe the very first tourists in the 60s told the locals what the name sounded like in English and the Thais thought it sounded like a rather grand idea.
Anyway, we learned that you can ignore all of this if you're with the right person and we certainly were. Enter: Sally Robinson. Sally was one of the other volunteers at Grace House in Cambodia with us; more specifically, she was Imran's fellow teacher in their particular class. She's a jolly, lively, fun and sociable Scouser who hates it when people say: "they do though, don't they though" in a Liverpudlian accent - something which, as you can imagine, Imran loves to do. He only did it once, though; he claimed it was because he liked Sally too much to annoy her but I think he was a bit afraid she might punch him. We've been very blessed on our trip to meet some fantastic people and there are a small handful who have become really good friends. Sally is right up there. She was going to be in Bangkok already by the time we arrived so we arranged to meet up on our second night. We went to Pattpong Road, a market area where we were accosted over and over again by men showing us ping pong menus. They just didn't know how to take no for an answer and wanted us to pledge allegiance to their particular club if we changed our minds. For a reason that I still don't understand, Imran and Sally found it absolutely hysterical when I became frustrated and yelled: "No! I'm not committing to you. I'm playing the p**sy field tonight." It was a fun night and, had things gone the way we had intended after that night, we might not be as great pals with Sally as we are today. We'd had our one evening of fun; we'd done the obligatory meet up that all travellers do when they end up in the same city and were going on our merry separate ways, planning to stay in touch through the obvious social media. But Bangkok had other plans for us and there's no arguing with that bitch. A couple of nights later, Imran and I were coming out of a shopping centre looking for a taxi but it turned out the taxi rank was at another part of the mall. Luckily for us, a random cab pulled up and as we ran to grab it, Sally jumped out of it. 'Ok,' we thought. 'What are the chances in a city of approximately 12 million people? Random coincidence and pretty cool." We had a hug and a chuckle, said goodbye again, and trundled off to a Thai boxing event thinking that was it.
Muay Thai is quite possibly my most favourite martial art - to do, anyway; not necessarily to just watch. The event we went to was great but most definitely for die hard martial arts fans who can understand what's going on. There were quite a few tourists there who had only come because it's one of those things that's always on the 'must do things in Thailand' lists and were obviously bored because it just looked like the guys were hugging a lot. The clinching rules were a bit difficult for even us to follow but the skill, athleticism and weapon-grade knees and elbows the guys had were phenomenal. It was nice to be in the native environment of the sport, seeing how passionate the locals are about their national sport. Men everywhere stood around yelling and making hand gestures; unlike the actions of football supporters in the UK, these were betting gestures and not rude ones to opposition fans. Sportsmanship and politeness is the backbone of all Asian martial arts.
Buzzing and energised from our dose of bone crushing kicks and knockout blows, we decided we weren't ready to go back to our hotel and hit the hay just yet. We must've been in a very good mood because we randomly decided to go to Khaosan Road, the most touristy area in the city. This is where all the eighteen year olds on their gap years hang out. Thumping beats coming out from the clubs met us as we got out of the cab; smoky street food carts were busy with trade as drunk youngsters tried desperately to soak up some alcohol and there was a mind boggling array of transvestites parading themselves. I left Imran on a little plastic table eating his noodles to rummage through some souvenir t-shirts on a market stall when I suddenly heard him laugh and shout: "Are you frickin' kidding me?!" Yep, it was Sally again. Another random coincidence? We didn't think so.
"It's a sign!" we all cried.
"A sign of what?" someone asked.
"A sign to drink!" someone else yelled (I'm pretty sure it was Sally.)
And so we began the craziest night out on our entire trip, filled with buckets of booze, stumbling out of clubs and dancing on the street with a dwarf, a fruitless search for a karaoke bar and getting together a mini choir outside instead, receiving death stares from scary chicks as we debated very loudly and obviously if they were really men, making friends with odd people who kept disapperaing and reappearing with corn cobs, cracking up at the Thai 'girl' who gave us a thumbs up as she left with a hammered Aussie bloke who hadn't noticed she had her hand over her crotch, and finally finishing with our own little table planted right in the middle of the road next to a hi-fi playing welcome old skool RnB while people swerved their bikes around us. We laughed and chatted until the sun was coming up and that was it; our friendship was well and truly cemented. Ain't nothing that brings people together like buckets of unidentified cheap liquor, shemale prostitutes and starting a dance craze with dwarves.
Lack of sleep was not in our best interests that morning as we had a flight to Krabi to catch. Krabi is a town on the coast in southern Thailand and at the time we went there, the monsoon season was literally just starting. Grey clouds met us as we went to the harbour to take a boat to our hotel. The weather might have been in stark contrast to Bangkok but there was fresh air and an invigorating ocean breeze to fill our lungs. The best thing for party-fuelled tiredness but not for a boat trip. The waves were majorly choppy and a tad nerve-wracking at times as we watched them coming towards us, bigger than the boat we were in. It took ages to get to our secluded hotel but we were just thankful we could go: had the waves been just a touch bigger, we wouldn't have been allowed to sail. Hilariously, there was no harbour or docking area for the boat at the hotel. Instead, the staff had made a makeshift bridge about 30m from the beach which basically looked like buoyant, plastic jigsaw pieces joined together with hope and a prayer. Every wave of the sea curled under this walkway and raised and dropped it like a snake. Once we got the technique of stopping and running between waves right, it was actually good fun trying to get to the beach. There was, however, a very real threat of falling in the sea which made me quite apprehensive - I really didn't want to fall in because there was no way I could cope with that current and it would be highly embarrassing to have someone jump in and save me. I don't do the weak, helpless little girl thing well. Luckily, we got to the hotel fine and, while not exactly dry thanks to the rain, a great deal drier than we could've been. You should've seen the hotel staff: tiny Thai women who could fit into my pocket, carrying everyone's suitcases and holding people double their size up at the same time on this balance-busting bridge.
Sadly we were only in Krabi for one night as a stopover since we'd originally decided we wanted more time in Koh Phi Phi. The town of Krabi had nothing to offer us because we were only interested in lazing on a beach at this late stage of our trip. When we got to our hotel in Krabi though, we found it was a million times more beautiful than we'd expected and we really wanted to stay longer. It was secluded, surrounded by white sand and a raging ocean on one side and huge, imposing limestone formations covered with jungle greenery on the other. The air smelt of the heady, salty brine that only a mixture of pure seawater and rain can create, invigorating all of our senses. Due to the weather conditions, we'd arrived there at 6pm and were being made to leave at 8am to ensure boats could travel so we only had fourteen hours to make the most of this gorgeous place. Of course, most of that time was spent catching up on sleep but we did see an amazing fire show at dinner and record a rap video (our version of 50 Cent's In Da Club) as a Happy Birthday message for our two year old niece. We are so politically incorrect, y'know. As our mate Nik said recently, if these kids say "I'm a mother f**king hustler" in front of the grandparents, we'll be 100% to blame.
And so on to Koh Phi Phi and another stunning beach resort. Yep, we were going for all out luxury in the whole of Thailand to detract from the pain of our trip ending soon. Our beach hut opened out directly on to the velvet sand and we slept peacefully to the sound of crashing waves each night. I loved this place and had a great time doing very little except writing. Imran was a bit more frustrated because of the rain. Even though it was still hot, the monsoon season meant boat rides out to different beaches were cancelled and Imran had desperately wanted to take pictures at the beach where Leonardo DiCaprio filmed the movie 'The Beach.' Look, I would've loved to go there too. If the scrumptious little dumpling Leo had rested his sexy topless self on any tiny patch of sand on that island, I would've rolled around on it butt naked just to get my own little piece of him until I got arrested and banned from ever entering Koh Phi Phi again. But it wasn't to be, so why let it ruin our holiday? Sod's Law, the sun was shining (blazing, in fact) on the morning of the day we were leaving and all the taxi boats were open for business. If we hadn't booked something important, we would've stayed there an extra day but it wasn't to be: bring on the Phuket detox.
It's no secret I love detoxes. Love, love, love them. I especially like the ones where the world falls out of your backside and, if it doesn't, you can shove a pipe up there to get the same result. Imran, on the other hand, is not up for such shenanigans. "I can't allow myself to be violated, even in the name of intestinal health," he explains. So here was our compromise. We found an awesome place called Phuket Cleanse where the skin was the organ of choice for elimination, not the bum, so we just had to sweat as much as possible. This meant exercise... and bucket loads of it. We love this kind of stuff so were well up for it. Early mornings were Muay Thai sessions with some of the best trainers in Phuket. In the afternoon we'd have some kind of resistance workout, either a weights bootcamp or a TRX drill or something similar. Finally, evenings had us sweating double even after the sun went down at a hot yoga class. Ever tried being in 40 degree sauna conditions inside when it's over 30 degrees and madly humid outside? Frickin' amazing. Think it sounds bad? To us it wasn't at all but we met many during this fortnight who couldn't hack the intensity. We don't buy lame excuses and could barely muster a sympathetic smile for those who did only one training session a day, if that. "I think the heat has gotten to me and I feel a bit dizzy. I need to go and sunbathe." Oh, bore off, eejit! Why choose to come here if you won't throw yourself fully into it? It's a waste of your own money. The endurance levels of the body are incredible; it's only the mind that quits. But, as a consolation/reward for all of us, there were some amazing mediations to look forward to each evening as well as nightly massages in our bedroom.
The massages were incredible. We could opt to have regular soothing, relaxing ones but, like crazy people, we almost always went for the Thai option. We figured it was better to go with what the locals do best and felt damn good after the hour was up, but for sixty minutes prior it was painful. This was one of those times when my high pain threshold really came in handy. By each evening, my legs were covered in bruises from the constant kicks we threw in the Muay Thai classes. I'd tell the masseurs to be gentle with my shins or avoid them all together but they'd completely forget and start kneading those buggers like they were making dough. I'd scream into the pillow and they'd giggle, then go gentle for two minutes before they forgot again. In the end I just let it be because the girls would laugh at the state of my limbs and take the piss to each other in Thai about how I was suffering as a result of doing something only men are supposed to do. (It took me a fortnight to realise that, after I asked the staff to translate a same few words I'd been constantly hearing. It made me laugh a lot!) And so, yes, it made me feel like a hard nut, but the agony was what I imagine slowly wedging burning sticks into your ears when an aunt starts talking about sex would feel like.Incredibly, however, those bruises were GONE every morning without fail. Vanished. From purple and green to original brown in six hours. This was because of the detox plan I was doing: nothing but green juices. The healing elixirs with magical results comparative to the Hogwarts' incantation of 'Reparo.' I'd always planned to do the green juice detox because it was the most rejuvenating and effective but had prepared myself for some disgusting drinks; Imran was content to forgo a tiny bit of effectiveness for taste, so had chosen the green fruit smoothies plan. But, when we got there and Mr 'I Eat Like There's No Tomorrow But Nobody Knows Where It Goes' Lakha was given a meal, he decided he wanted to eat and changed to the raw food detox instead, leaving me all alone to sip my juices while he ate so much it had the staff in hysterics. I'll talk more about the food at the Phuket Cleanse in my next post but suffice to say, everyone there was at first shocked at how much my metabolic man could put away but, after a while, started using him as their guinea pig to test out new experimental dishes on and made extra meals just for him. I was perfectly happy and motivated enough to be on my juice plan, especially as most of them were far tastier than I had banked on and the jug - yes, jug - of wheatgrass each day was clearing up my bruises at the speed of light. We were so full of energy it was ridiculous; we'd sleep for five hours and wake up buzzing, hyper and ready for 90 minutes of Muay Thai as an easy start to the day. There was just one drink I couldn't stand: I don't remember the name but it was made from a local herb or leaf. It tasted like vomit - like actual vomit, I'm not even kidding. A couple of times I just held my nose and downed it but, despite my usual iron stomach, this was the first time ever I can remember gagging. I was truly horrified at the thought of having to taste that stuff on its way back up again so on the nights we'd get back from a hot yoga class and I'd have that waiting for me and nothing else, I'd very politely tell the poor staff to go screw themselves and eat a plate of fruit or a bowl of soup instead.
The fortnight sped by; it was too quick for us and I wanted desperately to stay for another couple of weeks. The Muay Thai trainers didn't seem to share my sentiment. They're used to Westerners coming and going, and seeing women in their classes is normal. But, as the Asian attitude goes, that's white chicks for you - they're always doing stuff that's meant for men. The trainers thought I was a 'good girl' (obviously white chicks aren't; they're promiscuous hussies, the lot of them) and they believed I should go home to have babies. "Come back next time with children and your husband will train with us!" they ordered. I will go back. I'll go back with a pair of sprogs cradled in my arms and get Imran to look after them while I kick the pads instead. That would really give them a heart attack. Asian mentality, eh?
I really wanted to carry on travelling. The Philippines was next on my list but Imran was now missing home a bit too much and was ready to go back. Gutted. But hey, I'd gotten seven months out of the man and had encouraged him to give up his job and all the security he knew for us to make this trip a reality so I was appreciative enough to let him go home to his mum - er, his life! In the meantime, we made the most of the phenomenal calibre of the trainers kicking our arses into shape, as well as the beautiful accommodation and the company of a large variety of fascinating people we met. It was truly a brilliant couple of weeks. Imran was already fit as a fiddle when we got there so he started getting ripped almost immediately. The staff at Phuket Cleanse would joke he was made of iron and had to stay away from metal detectors. I used to sigh glumly and think, "Yeah, yeah, I'm married to Benjy Button" but now I was thinking, "Hell, yeah, I'm married to Benjy Button! When I'm 40 it's gonna look like I got myself a toyboy!"
Thailand was definitely a place of contrasts for us; in fact, to be more specific, I'd say the contrast lies between Bangkok and the rest of the country. Bangkok really is one of a kind. I used to think London was quite unique compared to other parts of England but, next to Bangkok, it's positively same-same. Bangkok is in your face, loud, brash and a metaphorical punch in the stomach. There are other places in Thailand that give you a slap around the face a bit but nothing compares to the capital's oomph. Looking down onto the main road from our hotel room high in the sky, we saw miles of traffic dotted with the striking rainbow colours of the taxis. This reminded us of the thing about Bangkok that well and truly pissed us off the most: the taxi drivers. I don't like to generalise about people and stick everyone in one group under the same umbrella but I'm going to this time: they are all F**KING. DOUCHE. BAGS. I can't even begin to tell you how many arguments we got into with the cabbies. They refused to put the meter on. They refused to take us if we didn't agree to all the stops they insisted on making. "We don't give a shit how much commission they pay you; we've got no interest in going to a clay pot-making factory or a daytime porn show." Even when they smiled and agreed to take us to our chosen destination, they were just lying and took us somewhere else completely - somewhere that totally ripped us off for the service we needed and gave some of that cash as a backhander to the prats. We got well and truly screwed over on our first day in the city but learned VERY quickly. We hated them with a passion... and it takes a lot for us to feel that strongly.
But cab drivers aside, Bangkok is welcoming and inclusive. Whether this is for the right reasons or not comes down to individual preference; the city just loves tourists. It's arrogant, mixed-up, messed up, colourful and, well, funny. Occasionally it didn't matter what our principles were here because we still laughed about everything we saw a million times a day. There will always be something in Bangkok that makes you gasp in shock and I can't see that ending anytime soon.
The rest of Thailand is a little calmer, although places like Phuket aren't far off, at least in the tourist areas. Everywhere else we met terrific people; happy, friendly, open human beings brimming with cultural identity and a sense of positivity that comes from being one of the most developed countries in South East Asia. The difference in Thailand, compared to Cambodia, Laos and even Vietnam at times, in terms of the infrastructure and ability to speak English by the general population was stark. They have Tescos here, for goodness sake. That really wound me up. The devil and destroyer of all that is good and holy is even getting into Asia. I worry for my sanity when I pass a Tesco because it makes me feel quite accepting of arson. But I digress.
We had a wonderful time in Thailand and would certainly go to Chiang Mai again. We'd go to Phuket Cleanse again, for sure! Thai food is out of this world - one of our favourite cuisines - and the country is definitely an excellent place for ex-pats. We wouldn't be averse to living there if we were given the opportunity (although if we're choosing somewhere of our own accord, there are several other countries which we'd choose ahead of Thailand.) What's weird is that the seedy scene is such a big part of the culture but that isn't what would put us off; away from the tourist areas and closer to the local people, it's actually full of wonderful communities to be part of.
And then there's the incredible nature: the breathtaking beaches, especially. The greens, blues and yellows that make up the environment; the perfumed air; the kaleidoscope colours of plants and flowers.
Of course, you do wonder why the vulgarity is so rife here; how on earth the country manages to continue to come up with crazier and more bizarre ideas to sexualise, exploit and demean its own people when it's such a proud nation. It's a testament to how great the overall culture is when you can still really like this place despite the fact there's something truly fucked up in the Thai psyche that has created this side to its identity.
The best thing about travelling to different countries is that the locals give the tourists everything they want. The worst thing about travelling to different countries is that the locals give the tourists everything they want. Thailand, in my opinion, is ruining itself by offering what they BELIEVE tourists want and, as a result, get a lot of visitors who don't appreciate the real beauty of this land - losers, I call them (and I'm sure they'd consider me a total snob, which is fine with me too.) But hey, that's just my opinion. There are millions of guys who'll tell you the offerings are the best thing about Thailand. There's something for everyone... and I guess overall that's a good thing.
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