Day 30

29/09/12

Rudely awakened by my alarm at 4 am, I shuffled around in a zombie state, packing, before my minibus pickup at 5 am. I’m really not a morning person, especially after 3 hours sleep! Planes shouldn’t be allowed to take off until after midday in my opinion, then I’d never have to get up early again. At least I was finally wearing some dry clothes! The mini bus hurtled to the airport in record time, the roads were dead. I checked in and tried to sleep on a sofa, and then a chair, in vain. I accidentally picked up someone’s similar jacket to mine at security, when I went back to hand it in, the guy just told me to keep it! Very professional! I gave it to him anyway just in case, though I am guessing his daughter’s now sporting a nice black fleece….

The first leg was to New Delhi, India. I managed to get a little sleep and watched the vastness of India pass below as we got close to our destination. Delhi from above seemed a random mix of high-rises in clumps, slum areas and a lot of open ground. After landing I had to go through long queues to get through immigration and baggage check, even though it was just a transfer. Some Indians were living up to their reputation for queue etiquette and barging in ahead of everyone else – thankfully the staff were having none of it and sent them to the back of the queue. I also noticed that the Indian people at the airport had a different idea of personal space to us westerners, often standing extremely close to me. I guess that’s just how things are in this country.

Delhi

Security seemed pretty tight in this airport, I got a second body check entering the gate, presumably just because I’m so sexy. Through the airport windows you could catch a glimpse of Delhi and a mix of ancient and new vehicles outside. An army truck was loading soldiers on board and all their packs were getting carried onto the roof. The Indians’ in the airport were almost all dressed smartly, something I like about their culture, and the colourful saris the ladies wore were a feast for the eyes.

After more failed attempts at sleep, it was onto plane two. I got stuck into Lonely Planet Nepal. I hadn’t done any research at all on my destination until now, only buying the book yesterday. I’d traded in my beloved Lonely Planet Travel Photography book for a pittance, as it was too heavy. Check it out if you’re into photography, it’s great.

Sadly no mountains were visible as we approached our destination, though there were some awesome cloud towers which must have been above some of them. We descended quite steeply and as we came down to Kathmandu we were getting a lot of turbulence rocking the plane. Even on the final descent the wings were swaying alarmingly and just before we landed it was rocking like crazy. We landed with a big bump but we were ok. In the news yesterday a small plane in Nepal had crashed just after takeoff with everyone aboard killed, including a number of Brits. The current thinking is that it was a bird strike. Actually in Nepal fatal air accidents happen every year or two, the conditions and small, dodgy aircraft aren’t a good combination.

Kathmandu airport is a very small and basic affair. We hustled into the visa area where the queues were long and slow as 2 or 3 flights of people applied at just two desks. I tried to pay with my Scottish pounds and got laughed at as usual. Take this as fair warning, nowhere outside of the UK will take Scottish bank notes. It confuses and scares them, even though it says Pounds Sterling on it. I’d arrived with a load in Thailand, not having time to change them in Edinburgh, and now they were travelling with me, unable to get rid of them. Twice in the visa queue there were brief power cuts, causing cries amongst the tourists. I’d already read about Kathmandu’s power problems – the city often has power cuts and the electricity is rationed around the city, called load sharing. Some places have backup generators, like hotels and restaurants.

After getting the visa at last, baggage collection was a free-for-all. Finding your luggage was hard as there was no information, and it was stacked up randomly around the area. Eventually I found mine randomly lying in a corner with the rain cover lying nearby. I went outside to be greeted by the usual mayhem – a wall of shouting people waving cards and offering taxis. I hate this part of travelling, it’s stressful and you’re always knackered when you step off a plane to get harassed – having to decide who you can trust. I was supposed to be getting a free transfer to my hotel and so I waddled along the row until I found my guy. He’d been waiting for over an hour, which sounded about right due to all the entry delays. In the distance I could see the sun setting over the shambling outline of Kathmandu city and birds of prey soaring above it. A little kite was being flown above the roofs. Big hills surrounded us miles away. I was piled into a taxi and the guy who’d met me demanded a tip, showing a 20 euro note. I was damned if he was getting 20 quid (after all I could have just got a taxi normally) but I didn’t have any small money on me, aside from some dollars, so I gave him the smallest, five dollars. He demanded another and as I was tired and stressed, I just wanted rid of him so I gave him it. Afterwards I felt annoyed for buckling and learned another lesson, keep small change for when you arrive so you aren’t scrabbling around for tips!

Kathmandu in the distance

The taxi was a little van with a back seat. The driver set off at a roaring pace and we hurtled around, outside the airport the road was bumpy and I lurched around in the back. The traffic was chaos with cars, taxis and motorbikes all over the place, horns beeping everywhere and random dangerous maneuvers taking place. On the streets outside, loads of people were walking. The roads were more like tracks, reminding me of my time in Africa, though I later found out this part of Kathmandu is undergoing road reconstruction and the normal roads are much better. All along the street were little stalls and food sellers and everything including the buildings seemed quite old and shabby. The air was hot, smoggy  and dusty. Everything was noisy, with horns beeping, engines roaring and the hubbub of people outside. It was quite stressful. We wound through some incredibly narrow streets, passing people and other vehicles by inches. My driver was determined to get me there as fast as possible, forcing his way into tiny gaps. There didn’t seem to be a rule for sides of the road, in fact in most places the road was barely wide enough for two cars anyway. As we got further into town the buildings rose in height and the roads were torn up, looked like some work was being done. Signs were everywhere, displayed in vertical stacks, and wires hung all over the place between buildings. I started to see tourists amongst the throngs of locals. The locals had a load of different stlyes, from women in colourful saris, men in suits and Nepalese hats, younger people dressed in jeans, t-shirts and black jackets, Tibetan people in colourful robes, the occasional monk – you name it, it was all there.

The streets here were also full of rickshaws (bicycle taxis), food carts and people carrying big loads on their back using straps on their head. I noticed a lot of old people with amazingly weathered faces and people with disfigured faces, wonky eyes or sporting skin problems, alongside pretty girls and well-kept men. My senses were overwhelmed and it was hard to take everything in. We arrived at Potala Guest House in the heart of the tourist area, Thamel, somehow without crashing or taking anyone out.

Bhupen was waiting for me in the lobby. He’s one of the owners of Fantastic Nepal, the travel agency that was assisting me. He’d been waiting for ages and wondered what had happened to me. Bikrant, his marketing manager who I’d been in contact with had been worried when I didn’t show up at the expected time at the airport. I was lucky because Bhupen had been about to leave. I left my stuff in the hotel room, quite a basic affair but with a nice bed, and went off with Bhupen for a drink.

We wandered through the mad streets of Thamel, the tourist area. It was almost dark now. The streets were very narrow here and motorbikes, taxis and rickshaws were constantly passing by you by inches, honking in your ear. The streets were rammed with open-fronted shops of all kinds, souvenir shops, clothe shops, food shops, travel agencies, bars, hotels,  but each front was only a few meters wide. It was a riot of colour and light. Owners stood outside, sometimes trying to entice you in. Hawkers roamed the streets with little instruments, Gurkha knives or tiger balm, asking you to buy. Rickshaws and taxis shouted out at you for a ride. Sometimes men muttered “hashish, cannabis” or “need something?” as they passed you. The buildings towered above us on either side with shutters open, signs everywhere and upper floors visible, sometimes with bars or restaurants up there. After visiting an ATM (4 quid to withdraw L ) we went  down a side alley to a great little restaurant in a courtyard, an old building rose above us with lighting projected on it, and a tree shaded the courtyard. It was much quieter here and the tables bustled with people and lit candles. A nice atmosphere.

We ordered dinner and chatted about Bhupen and his company. They’ve only been going for a few years, taking their hobby into a job, and are steadily building their business and differentiating themselves – in a city of thousands of travel agents they need to! We talked about his plans for the future and discussed places and things I might like to do in Nepal. He was good company and understood my independent nature, being a bit like that himself.  He was honest with me about costs and recommendations, saying he wants to build his company’s reputation on honesty and service – relying on word of mouth for promotion. I thought it’s a good approach and his attitude was refreshing. The challenges of his line of work in Nepal were interesting, because of the infrastructure it can be hard to provide a reliable service to tourists who expect set times for things to happen – in Nepal things happen when they happen. Things like hot water or power can’t easily be guaranteed, so his company’s spent time to find reliable places and people so they can guarantee a certain standard. His job sounds challenging and hard work, but he seems to enjoy it. I recommend their company, I’ve used them for quite a few things now, they’re honest, reasonably priced and very helpful, you feel well looked after. You can find Fantastic Nepal Holidays on Facebook or I can put you in touch with Bhupen – and no, I’m not being paid for this!

We chatted the evening away and after a tasty steak he walked me home. The streets all look the same to me so I was glad of the assistance! I thanked him and we parted ways. I had some problems getting to sleep, even after midnight the beeping of taxis and motorbikes were still going.

Bite hell – my ankles each had about 10 really itchy bites from mosquitos, collected in Thailand, and god knows what other insects. They were swollen and the itching was driving me mental!

Day 29

28/09/12

My neck was killing me. The coach wasn’t comfortable and I drifted in and out of poor sleep. At about 4am the voice of God boomed from the speakers again – we’s reached Bangkok and drove through to the North Terminal, arriving at 5am. I spoke to the western girls who’d been on board and they turned out to be fellow Brits. They didn’t have a clue where to go so I shared a taxi with them to Khao San road where they could get a place to stay.

At Khao San we got them a guest house. I found out one of the girls, Ruth, had worked in Meribel, (French ski resort) a few seasons before I did, and knew some of the people I’d worked with! As she says, Meribel people always find each other! The girls went off to bed and I found another place nearby where it was quieter and hit the sack for a few hours.

When I woke up I got organized, sorting the stinky jungle laundry and walked around for ages trying to find somewhere that could wash and dry my only pair of shoes in a day and eventually got lucky. Only 2 quid too! Then I went to Siranees (Mark’s friend) travel agency  to arrange a mini bus to the airport. 5 am pickup, that’s going to hurt! I made some more Nepal arrangements. I was in touch with a guy called Bikrant, from a company called Fantastic Nepal who Siranee put me in touch with. He’d sort my accommodation for the first night, then I’d chat with his company about potential activities once I arrived.

I went to meet Mark for lunch and we caught up. He was eager to hear about Khao Sok and my bag exploits. I needed to get my dead laptop looked at and he suggested a department store I’d visited with him before. I caught a local bus there and went up to the top floor which is all computer shops. The first place I went to the guy spoke good English, that’s a stroke of luck. He took a look at the laptop and ran some tests. My worst fears were confirmed, the hard drive was irrepairably fecked. All the data was unrecoverable. Damn it! Fortunately I had the photos backed up on an external hard drive. The guy said I could buy a new hard drive here, and for only £50 I thought it was a good deal. He installed it for me with a load of dodgy software to replace what I’d lost (good luck finding legit versions in Thailand!). It only took a few hours – I was back in business!

I got a bus back to Khao San, collected all my laundry – the shoes looked brand new! – and began setting up the laptop again. I was at the hotel restaurant and got chatting to a young Dutch guy who was alone and on the first days of his travels. I gave him some advice on the highlights of Thailand, then went to phone my family on Skype. The connection was ropey and the voices were breaking up but we managed to have a conversation, which was nice, I hadn’t spoken to them for a month.

Day 28

27/09/12

No photos for this day I’m afraid. There wasn’t anything worth photographing with all the rain! Got up early for the mini bus to leave Khao Sok. Mr Bao kindly gave me a free breakfast as a parting gift which I wolfed down as I was running late and the pickup was waiting for me. Everything I had was wet after my recent exploits and it all stank of damp, both my clothes and my bags. Pity the person who has to sit next to me on the bus! I said goodbye and was taken to the mini bus stop, chatting to some other travelers whilst I waited. The mini bus was packed full of other travelers and I chatted in the back to some Dutch guys and an Aussie girl. Turns out she was going to Nepal too and would be spending some of the time doing voluntary work. Good way to see things on the cheap, I should give it a go sometime.

The journey to the west took a few hours and took us past more impressive jungle and hills, though of course it rained the whole time. At Krabi, as I’d learned in advance, we dropped a few km outside of town in a useless location where the travel office was, effectively forced to get a taxi anywhere useful. I was prepared for this but some of the other travelers were understandably annoyed. It’s undoubtedly a cynical way to get more money out of travelers, the travel companies work with the taxi drivers. I grouped in with the German guys and another girl who were heading for Krabi centre and we haggled to an acceptable rate to get a taxi to town.

Krabi is the stepping stone to a lot of the western isles and nearby beaches, and so It’s a tourist haven filled with hotels and travel agents. In the wet season though it wasn’t that busy and seemed a fairly unremarkable town, the only thing of note being a big blue and white temple we saw whilst we wandered looking for a café to have a break. We found a streetside café frequented by muslims (who make up about half the population here), and I had a tasty pancake (Roti) with curry sauce. Yeah yeah, so pancake with curry sounds wrong but trust me, it’s good. We chatted and the Dutch guys were heading off to a nearby beach. I thought they were mental, it was raining now, but they were optimistic the weather might get better in the next few days. I wasn’t. I wished them luck as they got a bus off. The girl, who was a 28 year-old German, had come from the same islands as me and also done a tour to the lake at Khao Sok, the day after I’d come back. She had done the mental river trek we did and said the conditions were as bad as ours, with them having to cross in chest high waters whilst their guide stood in the middle of the river holding the bamboo bridge up. We weren’t alone in the madness after all!

I had the day to burn, there weren’t buses heading to Bangkok till the late afternoon and all I had to do was use the internet to get some more organizing done. So I accompanied the girl (I admit it, I’ve forgotten her name after a month!) as she looked for a guest house. She was heading down to Malyasia in the next day or two. We found her a hotel and then we went to a nearby café with wi-fi to hide from the rain. We chatted for a few hours. I had a stress when when I turned my laptop on there, it failed to boot with an error message appearing. But the next time I tried, it was ok. A bit worrying, it was only a month old and already flaking out! Then we went for a quick walk around town. We found the big temple we’d seen earlier and it turned out to be brand new and really nice. Big white dragons adorned the staircase leading up to the temple and a garden was on the hillside beside. Inside the temple intricate and colourful paintings covered the entire walls depicting Buddhist scenes and on the back wall was a massive battle showing demons and humans fighting. The window shutters had nice carvings and the main doors were bronze embossed with warriors. The whole place looked great and the outside looked cool, not garish like most Thai Wats.

I’d been having a good time and had decided to get the last bus to Bangkok at half 5, according to my info. I was running a bit late now, said goodbye and jogged to the bus stop. I caught a songathew packed with people heading for the bus station. I cursed as it went on a round-about route through town, stopping regularly to let people on and off, as my time was ticking away. I only had about 15 minutes left to get to the station. The locals on board were friendly and understanding of the space I was taking up with all my bags! Two boy scouts were standing on the back step, hanging on the rail. I willed the vehicle faster but it was rush hour and we moved at a snails pace.

Five minutes before my bus was due to leave the driver dropped me off at the side of the road. “The bus station’s here?” I asked. He pointed up a side road – the songathaew follows a fixed route. Crap. I grabbed my heavy bags and shuffled along as fast as I could (bearing in mind I’m one-armed because of the shoulder) following the side road as my last seconds drained away. A bus for Bangkok passed me and I tried to flag it down, but the driver pointed behind him in the direction I was heading. I tottered along in the rain and as I finally saw the bus station I saw the second Bangkok bus leaving. That would be the last one. Shit. I was just a few minutes too late!

I decided to check out if there were any night buses I’d not heard about and went into the station. An official lady asked me where I was going. “Bangkok. Am I too late?” “Last one’s at 6 o’clock”. Well thank god for that! I had wanted to travel on a local VIP bus as they are super-comfy and the trip is about 12 hours, but this final one was the standard local coach. It had air-con and standard reclining seats, but no meal or other niceties. After my bag woe in Surat Thani I stuffed my main bag under the seat which just about fitted, and was sat next to a fat Thai guy who I pitied as I smelled badly of damp. There were only two other tourists on board, the rest were Thai including some soldiers in camo.

I was really hungry and ate two packets of crisps hoping that a meal would appear from somewhere. Sadly it wasn’t to be. It was after 6pm and getting dark. I got a shock when the voice of god boomed out from the speakers saying something in Thai. It was really echoey and way too loud. Inexplicably, five minutes later they turned off the interior lights. I was reading and tried to turn on the light above my seat. It didn’t work. None of them did. We’d been plunged into darkness and it was only 7pm! Are you kidding me?! I was annoyed, I wanted to read. We had a 12 hour ride ahead of us!

Thankfully I had my iPod on me. I passed some hours listening to music and a few podcasts, before it ran out of battery. The landscape we passed seemed similar to Khao Sok, in the dim moonlight I could see forested strangely shaped hills passing by. Other traffic at this hour was mainly haulage. Occasionally the driver would beep, presumably to get dogs out of the road. At about 10pm we reached Chumpon on the opposite coast, and stopped at a bus depot for a break, filled with stalls and restaurants. I grabbed a bowl of rice and pork. In the break I extracted my laptop and torch. Now I was set. I turned on the laptop to write some of the diary, and to my horror the same error message as earlier appeared before Windows even started. Again and again I tried, with the same result. It sounded like a hard drive error. This was bad, although I had all my photos backed up elsewhere, I’d only have one day to try and get the computer fixed before I was off to Nepal or my photo management was going to be a nightmare, plus I could wave goodbye to the photo blog and convenient internet research! I knew my chances of getting it fixed in Nepal were slim at best. I tried to forget about it and read my Kindle using the torch until I managed to get some really crap sleep.