Koh Lanta - Bangkok

Bruce and I
Long day of travelling back to the capital today.

Just to put the parameters of the trip in perspective, I'll mention the way I planned the whole thing. I knew I wanted to go around the world, and the only proviso I had was that I didn't want to include Australia/NZ (because those places are the most common destinations for British backpackers and I wanted to experience places which had less in common with the UK). I phoned STA Travel to book my ticket and ended up spending an hour plotting my course with the operator (who was a seasoned traveller). The ticket I bought was through Star Alliance: a network of big airlines which cover almost every route on the globe.

Basically I could have an unlimited number of flights, up to a total trip milage of 29,000 miles. This allowed me to backtrack, change the dates of flight (but not the route), and take little hops to avoid gruelling bus journeys. For example, one leg of the ticket involved a one hour flight from Bangkok to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam on January 30; a road journey equivalent of twenty-four hours plus more difficult border crossings than in the airport. So my travels were very open ended with the only obligation that I needed to be in certain places at certain times to catch a plane. And I could always change the date of the flight for no extra cost if I wanted to stay in a place longer. Very cool system which I would recommend for anyone thinking of a similar venture; in fact, Star Alliance has grown considerably so the choice of routes must be even better.

Two ferry crossings, a minibus leg back on those avenues of death, and a proper bus ride, and I was back in Surat Thani, ready to take the train back to Bangkok.

Except the station was nowhere to be seen. I was in Surat Thani, that much I was certain.

Sadly the station wasn't. At least not geographically.

Thirteen kilometres between station and town is stretching the definition of said station belonging to said town, I think. I was actually aware of this and had been assured I would be delivered to the station. However, one hour before my train was due to depart I found myself standing in a travel agent's office more than eight miles away.

The rep said everything was under control, but he was acting very strangely. He kept hanging around on the street outside the office. Every few minutes he would suddenly furiously beckon me outside, only to wave me back just I started to come.

"I bet he's flagging down local buses to take me," I half-joked to another traveller headed in the other direction.

That was exactly what he was doing! He must've been waiting for the right bus to come along, because finally one time he did start beckoning and didn't stop.

"Quickly," he shouted, as I tried to run out of the office with my overloaded backpack (for some inexplicable reason I thought it'd be a good idea to carry travel guides for every country I was visiting--even when I wouldn't need the books for months).

The bus screeched to a halt and the conductor hauled me on just as it began pulling away.

Once aboard, the conductor sold me a ticket and then offered me a large green leaf. He mimed the action of removing the leaf from the stem by running a pinched hand down the stem, and then indicated I should chew the leaf.

Not wanting to snub his hospitality and being genuinely curious about eating leaves, I happily scrunched up the gift, popped it in my mouth and started chewing.

And chewed some more.

And some more.

Little more.

That's enough.

You know those kinds of things that no matter how much you chew they don't break down--you know, dirt, mud, grass; the kinds of things two-year old kids stuff in their mouth as they're learning about the world in a very hands-on way (I'll never forget the sight of half a slug in my younger cousin's chops when I was eight). Leaves are in that category, too. I was a two-year old child again.

By now, the leaf had transformed into an inedible, gritty mulch in my mouth. It tasted how I'd imagine cardboard would taste and it made my mouth really dry. If I really wanted to eat this I'd have to swallow and regurgitate just like a cow. No thanks. I spat the mulch out the window and try to gauge the conductor's reaction.

It was probably a practical joke on gullible tourists, but the guy showed no signs that it was. Maybe I'd really offended him, I don't know. The merest glint of mischief in his eyes suggested I hadn't.

At the station I still had some time to kill so I checked my email at a nearby internet cafe. I found out that my Nan had died two days earlier. She'd been sick in hospital but recovered sufficiently to come out. Although not well, nobody had expected that she would die so suddenly. I was pretty distraught. I hadn't considered that the goodbye I gave her when I left might've been the last. Everybody said I should keep travelling and not come back for the funeral--it would be what she wanted--but it felt awful not being around to support Mum and everyone else. Later, on the day of the funeral I had some quiet moments of reflection to myself.

Death is a natural part of life, but it's still such a cruel thing. All we can do is live the days we have to the fullest. Dream hard, work hard, play hard, love hard. Never dehumanize anybody; remember that we're all trying to find meaning in a meaningless universe. How are you doing?

On the overnight train back to Bangkok I met two interesting characters. Ben, a recently retired Thai woman, and Bruce, a former Democrat party member now living in Japan. Bruce had plenty of stories about political life in America. For example, on election days basically being a taxi for people who were too lazy to go to the polls otherwise. Democracy?!

Bruce also practices yoga.

Tomorrow he's going to teach Ben and I the basics!