Longest Travel Day

In a tropical climate, you are constantly transitioning between humidity and air conditioning.  I think that's what saddled me with a head cold the day I was supposed to travel from Thailand to Australia.  I woke up congested, but had to shower and pack to be ready for my 9 am taxi to the Phuket airport.  I had already checked in for both flights online and my Airbnb hosts in Australia were expecting me.  I had to pull it together.  I thought, "I've gotten ready for work and taught all day in worse condition than this!"

I powered through, got all packed and ready, and went downstairs to bid my hostesses at the hotel farewell.  I had become acquainted with them over the past three weeks, and wanted to give them a nice tip.  I slipped a bill that was larger than all the others into the clear plastic tip box, and they were abundantly appreciative.  They presented me with a brown gift bag.  Inside was a frangipani soap and a photo they had taken of me for their guest wall.  They have a huge transparent glass map on their wall and said they would post the photo there, affixed to my hometown in California.  I looked at the map, and there had been no other guests from the US, or even from the Western Hemisphere.  It looked like Australia, Asia, and Russia were the most populated.  We said our goodbyes and I was off to the airport.

Online, I had secured the window seat in the last row of the plane, hoping I would have the row to myself, as I did on the flight down to Phuket.  No such luck this time.  Next to me was a woman who thought she was the one in the window seat, leaning over me, and gesturing across my face as she described the scenery to her husband.  I gave her a dirty look, she apologized, but continued the behavior.  I just thought to myself, "If I am contagious, there's her retribution."

After the short flight to Bangkok came the next hurdle of the day.  I had to navigate my way to the main airport in Bangkok, Suvarnabhumi International.  I flew an economy airline, Nok Air, to Phuket, but that meant utilizing Don Mueang Airport.  In my online research of Phuket activities, I noticed a mention of a free shuttle between the two airports.  I had booked an early flight out of Phuket so I would have plenty of time to investigate and then find a taxi if the shuttle myth was untrue.

I disembarked the plane, retrieved my checked bag, and followed the public transport signs downstairs.  I didn't see any signs about a free shuttle, so I asked at the information desk. Sure enough, just outside was a desk and a completely empty, full size bus waiting.  I asked if the bus really was free.  The guys at the desk, who were all wearing the same type of sunglasses for some reason, replied yes.  All they needed to see was my boarding pass.  Good thing I hadn't trashed it in the restroom.  I boarded the bus, along with a young couple, but that was it.  We took off with three passengers on the entire bus. 

I arrived at Suvarnabhumi with two hours to spare before check in for my flight even opened.  I wanted to get past security to eat and rest, as I was still feeling under the weather.  I found a spot near some monks, careful not to accidentally touch them as I walked to a seat in their row.  Vit, my Thai tour guide, is a former monk, so we were schooled about proper, respectful behavior.  I worked on my journal and people watched until it was time to check in.

I approached the counter once I saw on the screen that check in had begun.  I really just needed my boarding pass and to check my bag.  I had booked the flight through Qantas and flew Qantas on the way up to Bangkok, but for some reason Emirates was operating this flight.  The agent ran my passport and asked, "Do you have a ticket back to the US?"  I'm sure Australia asks them to confirm that information before issuing boarding passes.  I didn't have a printer to print a boarding pass anyway, but at the end of online check in, a message popped up that told me to see a ticket agent for my boarding pass.  That message gave me an uncomfortable feeling.  "Yes. It's on January 8th." "May I see it?" asked the agent. "I don't have a paper copy, but I have the email on my phone. Would you like to see that?" I asked, nervously.  I can usually pull up emails without wifi, but of course it wasn't working at that moment.  I couldn't get on the airport wifi until I was past security.  I said, "I'm sorry, but it's not working.  If I can use a computer, I'll find it for you.  Or, you could possibly look up my flight with my frequent flyer number.  Or, maybe you could run my passport.  I have an electronic Australian multiple entry tourist visa that will pop up for you."  She stared at me for several seconds.  I don't know if she didn't understand what I said, took my word for it, or felt sorry for me, but she said, "It's okay" and printed the boarding pass.  What relief I felt!  I had read an article about a man who had been detained at the Bangkok airport and just imagined myself stuck there.  I thanked her profusely and proceeded to security.

I'd anticipated this Emirates flight ever since I booked it back in August.  I'd heard nothing but praise for the airline, and it's all valid.  I'm referring to the amenities rather than the service, which was rather bland.  I was dazzled by the large personal TV screen, the plethora of film choices, the personal electrical outlet and USB port, and the complimentary travel kit.  When it was time to sleep, the ceiling transformed into an astronomical wonder of twinkle lights.  I had chosen the last row of the plane, with the hope of having extra room.  My hopes were met, with practically a foot of space between my seat and the window, plus ample room to recline my seat.  I felt like the personal guest of the Emir.  Highly recommended!

After a stunning sunrise over the Australian Outback, we landed in Sydney.  I disembarked, retrieved my checked bag, and queued for passport control.  As I stood in line, an immigration officer approached me from the side. "Where are you coming from today?" he asked sternly. "Bangkok," I replied.  He looked at me for a moment, then asked, "Were you in any rural areas? Any farms?"  I thought for a moment, breaking eye contact with him.  I tried to recall all of my destinations over the past six weeks.  Was the elephant camp considered a farm?  What about the rice field we briefly walked through?  I wasn't sure, and I was taking a long time to answer his question.  Hadn't I just answered this question on the customs form?  I know he was concerned about soil, and my shoes had been thoroughly washed.  "Um...no," I said.  "Any wooden souvenirs?  Food?"  I looked away again to think, shifting my eyes.  Did I buy that wooden Buddha I was contemplating?  Did he say any souvenir or just wooden souvenirs?  I'm standing here wearing a Singha beer T-shirt.  Is that what he means?  My head was still congested and my processing was faulty due to lack of sleep.  "Um...no." He stamped my customs form and wrote a secret code near the stamp.  That hadn't ever happened before.

I proceeded through passport control, and was nearing the final exit.  The officer there looked at my form, looked at me, and said, "Row 5."  I figured I would exit with everyone else, but I followed the barricades to another station.  There was a large carpet area in front of me.  A female officer appeared...with the DRUG DOG in tow!  Oh come on, I thought.  I knew I didn't have anything contraband, but was nervous nonetheless.  I guess I did take too long to answer the customs officer's questions.  I was ordered to spread my two pieces of luggage out on the carpet and step back.  The cute beagle sniffed my suitcase quickly, but then lingered on my shoulder bag that had accompanied me wherever I went in Thailand.  What is he doing?  Why is he taking so long?  Do I still have a cookie in there from the first flight?  I recalled my arrival to LAX from China several years ago.  The drug dog went crazy over some beef jerky a man had in his bag.

"Okay, thank you," the officer said.  I was clear!  I grabbed my bags and hightailed it out of the airport.  I understand that it's their job to exercise caution and be thorough.  I guess that's the chance you take when travelling to a country known for its contraband.  I finally arrived at my Airbnb location in Newtown, took a rest, and felt an immense sense of relief.

Ride of My Life

I can't laud Overseas Adventure Travel enough. Discover Thailand was my fourth trip with them. After taking three trips with the company, you are inducted into the Sir Edmund Hillary Club for frequent travellers. That means that you get a little extra attention from your trip leader, among other perks. When I made the decision to extend my stay in Thailand, I asked my trip leader, Vit, what he thought. Of course, he was pleased that I wanted to see more of Thailand and said that he'd call the local Qantas office for me to change the flight. (Read Scavenger Hunt in Bangkok for the second half of this story.)

We had an afternoon at leisure after touring Bangkok all morning, so some of us walked over to the Silom Complex mall on Silom Road and Rama IV. Vit said that would be a good time to call Qantas and we could look up the info on his iPad as well. He called for me, but after learning that the change of date would cost $200, I told him I'd think about it and deal with it later.

We started walking back to our hotel, The Tawana, which was only a few blocks away on Surawong Road. Vit asked, "Would you like to take a motorcycle taxi back to the hotel?" I hesitated for a moment and he said, "It will be a cultural experience for you. And faster." My hesitation was rooted in recalling what Vit had told us about motorcycle taxis a few days prior. Yes, he said they are fast and convenient, but he also said that no one wears a helmet, though the law requires it. Some of the drivers carry a helmet for their passengers, but it's the same helmet for everyone. Vit said people usually line the helmet in plastic or wear a shower cap. All the elementary school teacher in me could think was: a) Why haven't I collected the shower caps from our hotels? b) HEAD LICE!!!   

As I was ruminating about where I might find some RID in Thailand, we approached an apparent biker gang, smoking and hanging out in front of 7-11. I walked closer to Vit, then realized that these guys were the taxi drivers, with not one helmet in sight. Before I could say anything, he told them our destination, hopped on the back of one of the bikes, and motioned for me to do the same. I thought we'd ride the same bike back to the hotel! I don't know how, but if a family of four can do it, I thought we'd manage. Picture this: the dad is driving, the older child is standing up in front holding onto the handlebars, and the mom is sitting behind the dad, holding their newborn baby. It sounds crazy to an American, but it's a perfectly acceptable norm here. I couldn't imagine my niece or nephew calmly riding a motorcycle. It's just how the Thai kids are raised.

"You okay?" Vit asked. "I guess, but how do you hold on?" He didn't hear my question, and his motorcycle sped off. I called after him, "Am I supposed to hug him???!!!" The driver looked at me amusingly and motioned to the seat. These motorcycles aren't Harleys. They are sleek, with no compartment on the back, nothing to lean against. Similar to a scooter, but more powerful and with larger tires. I inspected the seat and wasn't sure where to step to get on. The driver seemed a bit impatient, so I just stepped up on some part and hopped on. Now, do I hug him??? I scooted up close to him so I wouldn't balance on the edge of the seat, and felt around for the bar that contours the back of the seat. I guess that's what I'll hold on to! We took off. "Okay, this isn't so bad," I said to myself. "No cars around...quite unusual for Bangkok." Then we arrived at Surawong and a traffic jam. I knew what was coming. I squeezed my legs together as hard as I could, but noticed that my driver's legs were still wider. Good. I held onto the seat bar as tightly as possible, thinking my white knuckled grip would be painful later. The driver darted in between cars, buses, taxis, tuk tuks, and for a moment I understood the exhilaration that accompanies motorcycle riding! Just when I was feeling slightly at ease, we arrived at the hotel. Vit was waiting on the curb, smiling. "So, how was it?" I hopped off and fumbled around in my bag for the 30 baht payment, hands shaking. Vit handed the driver the money, as I'm sure he couldn't wait to take off. "Scary, but exciting," I said, finally rounding up 30 baht to repay Vit. "Cultural experience!" he said.

Trust was the evident theme here. I knew Vit would never put me in any danger and I just had to go with it. I've been tempted to hire another motorcycle taxi for a short distance around town, but I think once was enough.

Scavenger Hunt in Bangkok

I've wanted to travel to Thailand ever since my grandma showed me her gold nail extensions that are worn by Thai dancers. My travel plans took me elsewhere until this year, when I decided to travel to Australia for four months. I thought since I would be in the neighborhood, I would swing by Thailand. I was apprehensive about travelling there as a single woman, so I booked a tour. While on the tour, I realized just how exotic the country seemed and decided to extend my stay. I had already booked a short group trip to Cambodia, which served as my "visa run". The group was scheduled to leave our hotel for our flight to Cambodia at 10:30 A.M. After enough procrastination, I called the local Qantas office at about 8:30 A.M. The rep said the flight I wanted was available, but she needed to run my credit card in the office. Conveniently, the office was just down the street from the hotel. I told her I'd be right there. I was scheduled to fly back to Sydney the day after we returned from Cambodia, so I had no choice. I finished packing quickly and ran down to breakfast, where my travel mates were leisurely enjoying their coffee and tea. They were confident I would make it back in time. I wasn't so sure. I told the bell boy where I needed to go, and asked whether I should walk or take a taxi. "Oh, walking," he said. "Five minutes." There is no problem with walking in Thailand until the sidewalk mysteriously ends or you need to cross the street. I knew I needed to cross the street to get to this location. I summoned the fearlessness that is required when crossing a Bangkok street, and was on my way. 

I was walking down Surawong Road toward Rama IV, and thought it would be a good idea to use the crosswalk at the intersection. First rule of Bangkok street crossing: Cross when you can. Never wait for the crosswalk, because the cars might stop for you but the motorbikes certainly won't stop. They'll just honk until YOU move out of the way. Once you learn this system, all is well. Miraculously, when I got to the crosswalk, all cars were stopped in all directions. Though there are no crossing signals for pedestrians, the traffic lights are accompanied by this ingenious little countdown clock. It lets you know how many seconds you have left to wait (red) and how many seconds you have to proceed through the intersection (green), though some drivers still don't abide by the clock. A few seconds remained on the countdown clock, so I ran like a maniac across the intersection. Sure enough, here came a herd of motorbikes, just as I reached the sidewalk. Where do they come from?!? Now that my first mission was accomplished, I focused on finding the "Charn Issara Tower" building. The rep said the office was located on the 22nd floor, so I examined the front of every tall building I saw. That might sound easy enough, but in Bangkok, you really must watch your step as well. I always try to scan about three feet in front of me for uneven pavement, urine puddles (human or canine), stray animals, or street vendors. When I got closer to Silom Road, which I knew already because of the mall, I started asking people for directions. Since address numbers are nonexistent on the buildings, it's better to ask. At Silom and Rama IV there are skyways to ferry pedestrians across that major intersection. Back and forth I went, enquiring along the way. Everyone was pointing in the general direction I needed to go, but I still couldn't find the tower. I found a tower that looked like it had 22 floors and said something about travel on the plaque. I rode the glass elevator up to the 22nd floor and exited. It was completely deserted and the elevator had already departed. Whenever I get in a precarious situation such as this, I launch into my determined mode. The elevator returned, I made it down to the ground floor, and I looked at my watch. 9:40!!! We were supposed to have our luggage out at 10:00 and I still needed to settle a bill with the hotel before departure. 

I thought, "Maybe this is a sign I should return to Sydney." Then I persisted, "NO! That defeats the whole purpose of vagabonding/adventure travel!" The purpose is to plan on a whim and avoid as much scheduling and convention as possible. I walked very slowly down Rama IV, back toward Surawong, and sure enough, there it was, set back from the street, exactly in the direction those helpful Thais had pointed. I entered the lobby and was examining the plaque to ensure I was correct when a security guard approached and said, "British Airways?" I responded, "No, Qantas." "22nd floor," he said. After a "khob khun ka" (thank you), I was at the elevator. I swung open the door to Qantas, absolutely saturated in sweat, and was greeted by the woman I spoke to on the phone. She took care of everything in about five minutes, and I was on my way back to the hotel, where I arrived just after 10:00.

Bangkok gives you a jolt of culture shock, but once you learn the customs and open up to the adventure, you realize its splendor. In retrospect, if the Qantas rep had been able to process my credit card over the phone or if I had found my destination as quickly as I should have, I would have missed out on some incredible cultural interaction.