I've been tuk tuked and non metered taxi drivered into submission.
This morning I will walk to Sukhumvit station, catch a ride to Makassan, walk around, try to find the airport train, get my Kabar confiscated and then end up at the wrong airport.
A parting special thanks to the tuk tuk driver yesterday. That was enough giant Buddahs to last a lifetime. He reported that the Grand Palace was closed until 3 so he took me to stores that sold crocodile purses, teak wood boxes, all the things I really need right now. For his trouble the stores gave him cumulatively vouchers for 15 liters of gas. After the last stop, he was gone. Oh, the temple was open and closes at 3:30? Perfect, another trip to Bangkok, perhaps.
Where the hell was I and how was I to get back?
The adventure continues, details at 11.
I could grab a taxi to the airport for 500 baht. That would be far too easy. Why take the easy route when there are other options?
So, I checked out of my room, by leaving the pass key to the elevator and inadvertently $60 worth of Ghirardelli chocolate I had picked up in San Francisco, destined for no one in particular.
My backpack, at last weighing was 48.5 pounds, my day back 20 and my computer bag another 7. I gained more than a few pounds in the last month, now I had another 75.
Down the street to the MRT, the underground railway down two flights of stairs. Past a metal detector, the marine fighting knife, designed for killing people, set off the metal detector but I wasn't stopped.
WTF? There is no Makasson stop. The rail system map was nothing more than a horizontal line listing the stops. There was no context for the city or other routes. It wasn't a map. Back up two long flights of stairs, down the street, up three flights of stairs, down three flights of stairs,cross a bridge over 8 lanes of traffic to MTS, up three flights of stairs to the overhead railway system. They use different cards and one cannot transfer from one to the other. I don't know. Maybe one is private and the other not. Maybe anything, it didn't matter.
I stopped a European fellow and asked if he knew how to get to the airport. He said he didn't know shit, but his wife did. She directed me the long way with two transfers on, well, she pointed it out on a map that actually showed more than one line. She gave me a roundabout way on the overhead. I found Makasson. I was chatting with a half Thai girl I spent six weeks with in Bocas, she informed me that I was going to the wrong airport. I reversed my course of stairs again back to the original station, hopped on and went to Chatuchack, walked up two flights of stairs, down the street, up three more flights of stairs and rode the train to Phetchaburi, got out, found a bus and rode with 75 pounds of shit on my lap. Tuck and roll time, the driver stopped near the airport and I got out in the street. That's as close as he was getting. Up the hill, enter a door, through a mall, up a flight of stairs, down a hall, down a flight of stairs, outside, up another hill to Terminal one. Are we having fun yet?
I ran my bags though inspection. I have five lighters with me that I have carried through airports in Panama City, Houston, San Jose, San Francisco, Taiwan and now Bangkok. Apparently they are not a problem anymore. I used to carry matches, which they never detected. My Kabar flew threw security again, without raising an eyebrow and I had hours to kill before flight time.
A quick lunch of Peking duck served by a tall, thin girly boy with an amazingly deep voice. In a frigging international airport, for the equivalent of $5.
I boarded my 858 kilometer flight for which I paid $79 and paid no checked luggage charge. My flight from San Jose to San Francisco was just about the same distance cost almost four times as much and they wanted $25 to check a single bag.
75 minutes later we landed in Phuket. Let the games begin! I won't go into the half hour of haggling with taxi drivers. Just fucking with them. My first offer was 800 Baht. I could have taken a shared van for 100 if I cared to queue for hours to save $25. I had done my rite of passage for the day.
Forty minutes in a spacious SUV, driving at highway speed we arrived at my hotel. A Thai girl came out, bowed and admitted me. I was instructed to take off my shoes and socks and place them by the front door. Up to the room, it was fine. Off to town.
I walked out the front door, down the street, around a corner and onto a major road, eight lanes wide. There wasn't shit to see. Three kilometers of walking and listening to traffic and inhaling exhaust? No thanks. A crazy bus drove by, a home built contraption I couldn't describe. I had no idea where the bus stop was. Not a taxi in sight. Finally a guy in a scooter stopped and offered me a ride for 100 baht and handed me a size 6 helmet for my size 7 7/8 head. We soon came upon an accident involving at least two cars and three scooters and a minimum of one fatality. The driver laughed and proceeded to drive in a manner described in the section "Never take a scooter ride." in then travel web sites.
I asked him to take me to a Thai restaurant in particular. I gave him the address. He had no idea where that was. Maybe if I had the address as
18 ถนนถลาง, ภูเก็ต, จังหวัดภูเก็ต 83000, ไทย instead of
18 Thalang Road, Phuket Town, Phuket 83000, Thailand he would have found the place. He called the number listed. It was no good, he handed me his phone, the message was in English. "The number you have dialed is not a working number." Strange.
He took me to a KFC. I emphasized I wanted a Thai Restaurant. He took me to a McDonald's. I got off, paid him and walked for a bit, quickly found a place that suited my purposes, ate, drank iced coffee, which I love and is available everywhere and walked around without purpose.
Well, this is getting kind of long, I'll cut it short. I booked something for tomorrow and after being pursued by a taxi driver for an hour took a ride back to my hotel. He really didn't know where it was and wanted to drop me off five blocks away. I never would have found the damn place, had I not geo coded the location on my phone.
This morning I will walk to Sukhumvit station, catch a ride to Makassan, walk around, try to find the airport train, get my Kabar confiscated and then end up at the wrong airport.
A parting special thanks to the tuk tuk driver yesterday. That was enough giant Buddahs to last a lifetime. He reported that the Grand Palace was closed until 3 so he took me to stores that sold crocodile purses, teak wood boxes, all the things I really need right now. For his trouble the stores gave him cumulatively vouchers for 15 liters of gas. After the last stop, he was gone. Oh, the temple was open and closes at 3:30? Perfect, another trip to Bangkok, perhaps.
Where the hell was I and how was I to get back?
The adventure continues, details at 11.
I could grab a taxi to the airport for 500 baht. That would be far too easy. Why take the easy route when there are other options?
So, I checked out of my room, by leaving the pass key to the elevator and inadvertently $60 worth of Ghirardelli chocolate I had picked up in San Francisco, destined for no one in particular.
My backpack, at last weighing was 48.5 pounds, my day back 20 and my computer bag another 7. I gained more than a few pounds in the last month, now I had another 75.
Down the street to the MRT, the underground railway down two flights of stairs. Past a metal detector, the marine fighting knife, designed for killing people, set off the metal detector but I wasn't stopped.
WTF? There is no Makasson stop. The rail system map was nothing more than a horizontal line listing the stops. There was no context for the city or other routes. It wasn't a map. Back up two long flights of stairs, down the street, up three flights of stairs, down three flights of stairs,cross a bridge over 8 lanes of traffic to MTS, up three flights of stairs to the overhead railway system. They use different cards and one cannot transfer from one to the other. I don't know. Maybe one is private and the other not. Maybe anything, it didn't matter.
I stopped a European fellow and asked if he knew how to get to the airport. He said he didn't know shit, but his wife did. She directed me the long way with two transfers on, well, she pointed it out on a map that actually showed more than one line. She gave me a roundabout way on the overhead. I found Makasson. I was chatting with a half Thai girl I spent six weeks with in Bocas, she informed me that I was going to the wrong airport. I reversed my course of stairs again back to the original station, hopped on and went to Chatuchack, walked up two flights of stairs, down the street, up three more flights of stairs and rode the train to Phetchaburi, got out, found a bus and rode with 75 pounds of shit on my lap. Tuck and roll time, the driver stopped near the airport and I got out in the street. That's as close as he was getting. Up the hill, enter a door, through a mall, up a flight of stairs, down a hall, down a flight of stairs, outside, up another hill to Terminal one. Are we having fun yet?
I ran my bags though inspection. I have five lighters with me that I have carried through airports in Panama City, Houston, San Jose, San Francisco, Taiwan and now Bangkok. Apparently they are not a problem anymore. I used to carry matches, which they never detected. My Kabar flew threw security again, without raising an eyebrow and I had hours to kill before flight time.
A quick lunch of Peking duck served by a tall, thin girly boy with an amazingly deep voice. In a frigging international airport, for the equivalent of $5.
I boarded my 858 kilometer flight for which I paid $79 and paid no checked luggage charge. My flight from San Jose to San Francisco was just about the same distance cost almost four times as much and they wanted $25 to check a single bag.
75 minutes later we landed in Phuket. Let the games begin! I won't go into the half hour of haggling with taxi drivers. Just fucking with them. My first offer was 800 Baht. I could have taken a shared van for 100 if I cared to queue for hours to save $25. I had done my rite of passage for the day.
Forty minutes in a spacious SUV, driving at highway speed we arrived at my hotel. A Thai girl came out, bowed and admitted me. I was instructed to take off my shoes and socks and place them by the front door. Up to the room, it was fine. Off to town.
I walked out the front door, down the street, around a corner and onto a major road, eight lanes wide. There wasn't shit to see. Three kilometers of walking and listening to traffic and inhaling exhaust? No thanks. A crazy bus drove by, a home built contraption I couldn't describe. I had no idea where the bus stop was. Not a taxi in sight. Finally a guy in a scooter stopped and offered me a ride for 100 baht and handed me a size 6 helmet for my size 7 7/8 head. We soon came upon an accident involving at least two cars and three scooters and a minimum of one fatality. The driver laughed and proceeded to drive in a manner described in the section "Never take a scooter ride." in then travel web sites.
I asked him to take me to a Thai restaurant in particular. I gave him the address. He had no idea where that was. Maybe if I had the address as
18 ถนนถลาง, ภูเก็ต, จังหวัดภูเก็ต 83000, ไทย instead of
18 Thalang Road, Phuket Town, Phuket 83000, Thailand he would have found the place. He called the number listed. It was no good, he handed me his phone, the message was in English. "The number you have dialed is not a working number." Strange.
He took me to a KFC. I emphasized I wanted a Thai Restaurant. He took me to a McDonald's. I got off, paid him and walked for a bit, quickly found a place that suited my purposes, ate, drank iced coffee, which I love and is available everywhere and walked around without purpose.
Well, this is getting kind of long, I'll cut it short. I booked something for tomorrow and after being pursued by a taxi driver for an hour took a ride back to my hotel. He really didn't know where it was and wanted to drop me off five blocks away. I never would have found the damn place, had I not geo coded the location on my phone.
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