Kao Lak to Bangkok

Too many impressions, not enough time to write them down!

Wednesday: diving at Khao Lak. A fun trip in a longtail boat to a local reef, though the diving was disappointing to me because of poor visibility exacerbated by mask problems. (I should have shaved off the beard / mustache – and stolen from K the spare prescription mask she borrowed!) We did see lionfish, small eels and many very small blue fish of an astonishingly iridescent blue. And Declan is clearly at home with scuba: he kept doing cartwheels and flips underwater. Jumping on and off the boat at lunchtime was a blast.

Thursday: a final morning idling at the beach before we had to drag ourselves reluctantly from the bath-warm Andaman Sea to check out of our bungalow. Then an afternoon idling at the open-air restaurant, reading, staring out at the sea, watching an egret patrol a school of fish in the estuary, and noticing a monstrous (at least 3-ft) lizard down by the water. At five we got a taxi into town and caught the “VIP” bus (hmmm) for Bangkok, scheduled to take 13 hours. First you cross the Isthmus of Kra to Surat Thani, through surreal, gorgeous scenery of jungle, gorge, and karst limestone mountains. By Surat Thani it’s dark, and after a short stop for an iffy pre-paid dinner (nameless curry, gristly bits of something, mugs of iced water, rice) it’s back on the bus for the night. VIP means fewer and wider seats, but they sure weren’t the right shape for me: I spent much of the night looking around in amazement at all the people who were tipped back, mouths wide open, necks not obviously broken by the bouncing and swaying, fast asleep.

(I passed a pleasant hour in the middle of the night listening to a BBC podcast of a programme about the Great Reform Act of 1832. Conservative landowners thought that giving representation to a few million middle-class male small-property owners was tantamount to abandoning the ship of civilization. It might even, they feared, lead to the enfranchisement of all males, including the lower orders. I don’t think votes for women had even entered their nightmares at that point.)

And so very blearily to Bangkok, where our first little victory over the system (or anti-system) was threatening to remove our bags from a taxi when the driver wanted 450 Baht cash-in-advance. We got him (grumpily) to switch on the meter (which is legally required), and in the end paying him only the 191 Baht the ride was supposed to cost. Bangkok is Scam Central - luckily we had heard about this one in advance.

We are now ensconced in the almost legendary Atlanta Hotel on Sukumvit. The Atlanta is very budget, and the paint job has seen better days, but it has bags of charm and history. Among other people, General William Westmorland stayed here during the Vietnam War, and it has been a big favorite with journalists and writers for decades: there’s a nostalgic piece by the famous British correspondent Duncan Campbell, reproduced in the lobby, on returning to the hotel after an initial stay as a backpacker in 1971.

Our first day was mercilessly hot and steamy, and we were grateful after the bus ride to spend most of the afternoon having an extended nap in the bliss of air-con. Then in the evening we happened upon the 2009 Bangkok Dance Festival, free in a local park, where we saw everything from an Argentinean couple doing traditional tango to an Italian group doing an improbably athletic modern dance on stilts.

But today (Saturday) was cloudy with a breeze, a mere 80 F or so, and we managed to be serious tourists again. We took in the huge Grand Palace with attached huge Wat and revered Emerald Buddha (in fact jade, discovered in Chang Rai in 1434) which sits at the center of one of the most beautiful interiors I have seen anywhere in Asia – alas no cameras allowed). Then after a streetside lunch of rather greasy Pad See Euw (fried noodles with chicken), we saw the equally huge Wat Pho which houses, among many other things, the beyond-huge (I’m not kidding: 46 meters long) golden Reclining Buddha. Both Wats have extraordinary, beautifully restored murals illustrating the Ramakien – the Thai version of the Ramayana, which is even longer and more complex than the original. Back down the river by water taxi – past the Oriental Hotel, which due to some oversight we are NOT staying in – and the sleekly efficient Skytrain back to the Atlanta.