Escaping the Chaos

After some debate we had decided to leave Bangkok by bike rather than by train.  This would be described as suicide for some, but after nearly a week of observing the traffic and some reading, it seemed like a safe option (especially when compared to cycling in the states).  While the traffic in Bangkok is thick and the motorists seem to only loosely follow the rules of the road, all road users seem to be given their fare share.  Never would a motorist yell at a cyclist from his passing vehicle to get out of the road, or to use the side walk, or any number of obscenities that we received in the states. They simply pass when it is convenient.  Traffic jams in Bangkok are merely a way of life, and road users are no more bothered by being held up by a bicycle than they would say a bus, or a motor bike, or a woman pushing cart overflowing with wares or anyone else with a right to use the road.  That being said, getting out of the city was by no means easy.

There are several factors contributing to this difficulty, first to be noted is that here in Thailand you drive on the left.  In a car, the steering wheel is conveniently located on the side appropriate for driving in its associated country, positioned in the center of the road.  On a two wheeled vehicle you are not offered this reminder, and on smaller streets with low traffic it is easy to drift to the side of the road that you have been conditioned your whole life to be on. Until of course you are faced with on-coming traffic.  Secondly, road signs are difficult to read, granted in the city the anglicized versions of the street names are provided, but they are clumsily long and only sometimes readily visible.  This fact required us to frequently stop and find our location on the map before casting ourselves off in the right direction again.  Finally, as was mentioned earlier the traffic is dense.  This makes crossing large intersections challenging.

Anyway, long story short, after leaving our hotel at 1 pm, having a late but delicious lunch and slowly braving the streets we were not in line to reach our originally planned destination of Ayuthaya.  As it began to get dark we were passing through more and more rural areas.  Knowing that it might take a little while to find a place to lay our heads we used our broken Thai and phrase book to try and ask a family where we might try to find a place to sleep.  After several verbal attempts and much hand waving the son decided to lead us to a guest house in his truck, and so the wild goose chase began.  We were led to a beautiful rural resort that looked entirely out of our budget, and it was.  With our original guide now gone we asked the attendant if there was something in the area that was a bit cheaper.  They pointed north and said something about wave sport and 3 kilometers.  So we headed down the road a little further until we heard the whine of jet-skis on the river and a sign for the Wave Sport Jet Ski resort.  At the front desk yet another language barrier was reached and once again the accommodations were over budget.  Once the clerk was thoroughly frustrated with us we went off on our own, in the direction not recommended.

Before long the newly paved road turned to dirt and we seemed to be getting further and further away from prospective guest houses.  As we passed through a small village we decided to turn around and ask the locals for directions one more time.  By this time we had resorted to simply waving our hands wildly and making a sleeping motion with our hands and head.  The locals waved back pointing this way then that way to signify the roads that we should go down.  Eventually we were routed back to the road that the Wave Sport folks had originally told us to follow until we hit the main highway that we had been avoiding.  With no guest house in sight I made one last effort to ask at a nearby gas station.  Fortunately my thai greetings, thank yous and bastardized sign language were enough for the employee to point at a visible building about a kilometer away.  Feverishly we headed in the wrong direction down the divided highway, turned right on a smaller road, then following the neon arrows left down an even smaller road towards what now felt like a strip club.  Pulling up we found what appeared to be a nice motor lodge with little curtained cubbies for your cars.  The price was okay so we payed and moved our stuff on in.  As we pulled in the attendant quickly drew the curtains for reasons not yet known.  We changed and went back to the highway in search of street food.

Once again the first place we stopped redirected us across the highway towards the 7-11, of which there are many littering the landscape.  So we U-turned under the overpass, a common way to bypass highways or change direction, and pulled up to a small shack on a tiny street.  Immediately we were welcomed in and seated.  Our hosts were gracious, but spoke no English.  By now we had become accustomed to taking everything that came our way as long as we could communicate that we like spicy food, which had quickly become a priority.  The food was great and before we could thank them they handed us the phone with their daughter on the other line speaking English to us for her parents.  She asked if we wanted anything else and recommended the chicken fried rice, which we were obliged to order and it was delicious.  The daughter said that her parents just wanted to thank us for choosing their shop, and suddenly we felt very at home.  Not paying much for our three course meal we vowed to return in the morning on our way out.  We returned to our cubby and passed out in an air conditioned oasis, exhausted from only 30 or so miles.

We awoke in the morning to our air conditioning unit over freezing and spewing ice onto the ground, it was time to go.  We pulled out of our cubby and said goodbye to our motor lodge and went for breakfast.  Again we were delighted to see our family restaurant and ate a standard issue plate of fried rice.

It was about this time that we received a somewhat frantic facebook message from our friend Natasha who lives in Bangkok.  Apparently our cubbied motor lodge was not as innocent as originally perceived, but in fact a place where Thai men meet their mistresses.  The curtain is intended to hide the vehicle from jealous wives and the promise of 24 hour surveillance is not to protect you from thieves.  Oops, I guess the padded head board should have been a dead giveaway. 

I was starting to feel feverish, so our goal was set to the previous days at Ayutthaya, the old capital city.  Passing by many stilted river houses and small villages the evidence of last years flood was becoming more apparent.  The high water line sometimes reached as much as six feet up the walls of lower lying houses.

We reached the island of Ayutthaya by early afternoon and began the search for a good guest house. In city's, especially those that are well touristed, this is not a problem. Using the travel website Travel Fish we decided on a guest house called Baan Lotus. The only difficulty is that Google maps rarely seems to have the location of things all figured out. But after going up and down the same street several times we were able to locate our stilted teak refuge set back from the main road. The price was right, about $10, the hostess was lovely, and the rooms were simple, clean and comfortable, except that we got two single beds.  Not long after we settled in, a pair of Australian men checked into the adjacent room with a double bed.  We inquired if they would prefer to switch, but they assured us that they preferred a double bed to our chagrin.  We followed the couple, now friends, to a noodle bar and slurped Tom Yum soup while talking about our respective Thailand experiences before anyone had time to get "hangry" from the days travels.  From what they told us we were glad to have missed riding the bus.  The rest of the evening was spent walking amongst the 500-700 year old ruins amongst the elephant riders and decided to stay another day.

On the second day we took the opportunity to ride our bikes without their heavy burden to quickly skirt the city.  about a quarter of the way around the island I spotted an unfamiliar sight, a fully equipped touring bike.  I stopped without informing Lauren and inquired as to  its owner.  A pony tailed Thai man standing nearby said it was his and we immediately hit it off.  Before long he had told us about his  own bike tours in the area and his most recent endeavor from Moscow to London.

Without hesitation he, Mook, told us to follow him to his photography studio to share stories and photos.  He took us to lunch, where he would not let us pay, and for the first time we experienced some unfettered Thai hospitality.

Back at the shop we exchanged Facebook profiles, made mutual connections over another Thai bike tourist Soniak Siraphon whom we had both met on separate occasions, Lauren and I in California and he in Europe.  They provided us with some cheap passport photos so that we might cross borders without interruption.   All of this made us glad that we had decided to stay an extra day.  We said our goodbyes, took parting photos and continued our perusal of the city.

About at the same place that we had encountered Mook earlier in the day we found a sewing shop where I bought a thimble and Lauren found some sharp scissors to enhance our sewing kit.  We passed ruins, plowed down narrow alleyways, found local Thai outdoor markets and sought restrooms at schools, which are always a good bet.  Feeling exhausted we went back to our guest house and I collapsed on the bed beneath our drying clothes and Lauren took a shower.

When I awoke to go to the night market for dinner I found Lauren in the hallway less twelve inches of hair.  Sewing kit eh?  To her credit she also used them to cut the sleeves off of one of her T-shirts. Lighter and cooler we drifted off to the night market for our evening riverside dining experience.

The next morning we packed our bikes while the local kittens played amongst our bags.  I sat outside trying to update my DeLorme InReach while Lauren went out for some Thai iced coffee.  While being distracted, I found that Mook had sent me a Facebook message that his friend in our next destination, Sing Buri, wanted to meet us and provide more hospitality, we of course were obliged.  Before long Mook showed up in person on his road bike to confirm that the message was received.  We thanked him and we were off as well.  On our way out we filled our bottles at a local reverse osmosis booth and swore off rest days until we reached the northern city of Chiang Mai.