Crabby Ladyboys

After a magical first Thai experience on the island of Koh Lipe, I found myself on a travelers 'comedown' by the time my bus pulled in to a grey and rainy Krabi.  I was feeling  'crabby' (yes, I went there). This is one danger for the solo traveler, the lonesome days: your usual support group are not around you and left with just your own thoughts for company, a slight echo chamber can occur. Despite the fact that you are arguably in the most freeing position of all--the world is at your feet and you are obliged to roam it without a job to tie you down, it can be daunting and sometimes designless.

Krabi, however, cannot be blamed for my dark mood. It is a haven for any lover of the great outdoors with mountains to be climbed and beaches waiting to be ogled over. Railay peninsular was one such beach. Three men in a boat (technically two women and one man) were whisked away beyond the murky, marshy surrounding waters of Krabi town into the expanse of ocean, jagged limestone cliffs and islands that the area is famed for. Just beyond Railay beach and over a rocky, jungle hillock I found myself on Tonsai beach--a rock climbers wet dream. Sure enough there were climbers galore selecting challenging routes and shouting words of encouragement to their better halves testing rippling muscles on craggy and sheer rock faces. I watched open mouthed from the safety of the sand below.

Although it may not be classed in the same category of rock climbing, I did tackle the 1,237 steps to the top of Tiger Cave (Wat Tham Sua). This was less of a casual jaunt and more of a 'monkey walk'; named after our cheeky four legged friends' climbing technique that we attempted to mimic. The top offered panoramic views onto a beautifully green and mountainous landscape, punctuated with fluffy clouds and surveyed majestically by a huge and serene golden Buddha.

I was accompanied for this hike by two Americans and an English man whose diet consisted purely of  fruits and 'raw foods'. He seemed to me more and more like the monkeys we were copying as he descended the mountain as easily and lithely as I demolish a McDonald's Happy Meal.

On the subject of food, my most adventurous meals to date were consumed in Krabi's exotic night markets. I found a kindred spirit in a friendly American girl who harboured a similar 'why not?' attitude when confronted with signs for delicacies such as 'fried jellyfish', 'silk worm' or 'grasshopper'. Needless to say I tried all three along with a kale bahji (my own naming) consisting of whole and unshelled shrimps--not a problem!

From Krabi I took a 14 hour long bus to Bangkok where I currently sit in relative peace (considering it is a city with more inhabitants than my whole country) writing this post. I chose to get the bus instead of flying for environmental reasons as well as my hypothesis that views other than clouds could be seen from the windows. This remained true for about two hours until it got dark and I got bored. Observing others is of course a fantastic solution to boredom and I was entertained by a hairy french man who skulked around with hunched over shoulders looking akin to a werewolf confined to the human figure for the rest of eternity.

Bangkok has surpassed expectations and currently rests as my favourite city in South East Asia so far. This is impressive considering my misfortunes during a bike tour of the city with dutch company, Co Van Kessel. (https://www.covankessel.com/) The tour brings you to the 'real Bangkok' and partakers navigate the narrow streets of the inner city on bright yellow high nellies before taking a boat trip to the outskirts. In the rural areas canals have not been filled in by tarmacadam roads, meaning that a plethora of dauntingly narrow passages and bridges crisscross over watery ways. At a particularly precarious moment of path when my thoughts were faraway from the task at hand, I managed to miss a corner and topple (gracefully) off my bike. I did not land in the narrow rivulet of canal beside me but my bum bag containing passport, money and phone did. The bubbles rose to the surface taunting me as my belongings sunk further and further down. I watched sheepishly as a staff member (stripped to his boxers) retrieved my bag from the dark depths, the water reaching chest height. I now have a second hand replacement phone which I feel cost more than its worth and whose camera does little to capture the sights I see everyday. (Disclaimer: I do not hold Co Van Kessel responsible for my clumsiness)

To cheer myself up after the wet phone incident, I decided to attend a Bangkok puppet show the following day. This traditional show is held in 'The Artists House', a hidden wooden building on the banks of the canal (Klong) on the Thonburi side of Bangkok. It is described online as 'difficult to find', apparently the understatement of the century. My poor Tuk Tuk driver who spoke no English was at a complete loss but did not want to lose face to his frazzled Irish passenger. After a thirty minute high speed joyride, side streets were careered down at increasing frequencies in order for my driver to shout desperately to stall owners for help. I would also join in, crying 'do you speak English?' to anyone I could find. Erratic driving, speed and frustration are never good combinations in a driver: completing a sudden turn without any warning to fellow road users a motorbike driver collided straight into the metal side of the Tuk Tuk.

Angry words were exchanged but no harm was done. My faith in this driver of course had evaporated as quickly as the hand brake turns he had been performing. Eventually, with a screech, the Tuk Tuk was brought to a halt and I was given instructions to walk the rest of the way. 'Too narrow' for the vehicle --though this had never seemed to stop him before, I conceded to walking and coughed up 50 baht extra as the driver insisted. The beads of sweat on his brow glistened like battle scars and he kissed my hand profusely. I felt little need to watch any kind of theatrical drama after my own real life event but furtively crossed the bridge to a row of old wooden huts and, among them, my destination. The Artist's house is more than two hundred years old and contains in its midst, a six hundred year old white Chedi (looking to my untrained eye much like something from the Inca civilisation in South America) which dates back to the Ayutthaya Kingdom, a city state reigning from 1350-1767 and Thailand's former capital. Just in front of the Chedi lies the performance space--a simple red carpet on teak flooring. Three puppeteers dressed in black manipulate an ornate puppet with a wide open mouthed grimace. The performance is short, oddly entertaining and beautiful with the puppet seeming to take on a life and personality of its own.

To bring a rollicking Thai adventure to a close I joined a tour organised by my hostel in order to sample the local delicacy of 'dancing shrimp' (Goong Ten). These shrimp are live and hopping, served on their dance floor of green herbs and spices. Surprisingly delicious. I garnished the evening with a visit to the bars of Khao San Road and a promise to myself that I would return again to the smoggy delights of Bangkok. Needless to say, I am no longer crabby but emboldened.