Bangkok - Welcome to the real jungle

I made a bad call. It was noon and no buses were heading from Ranong to Bangkok until 4. Rather than wait, I caught a bus back to Chumphon in an attempt to maybe intercept something coming from the south. I was deposited in the previously mentioned rural bus station (actually only 20km outside of town). It was practically deserted. Derelict buildings enclosed the bus station; built, but never inhabited. No sign of any businesses. No one was sold on this far flung bus station idea. It didn't look good for my plan.

The next bus was coming from Ranong, I was told. However, it was full, and I had to wait until 8 for a bus with a seat. So yeah, that was my bad call. I spent four hours in that depressing bus station until well past nightfall. I bided my time by writing that epic Ko Pha Ngan entry, my current anger perhaps detectable in between the lines. I ate snack stand food for dinner. The bus rolled in on time and I eagerly hopped on as others dashed off to pee. It was coming from Phuket, so there were a lot of people who had to pee. Inside, there were lots of empty seats. I took turns sitting in different ones and getting kicked out until I found the one seat that was unoccupied. Actually a very frustrating thing to have to do. The last passenger aboard was in the seat beside me, a very large African man. He was more of a man and a half actually. I was compelled towards the aisle by his inherent broadness. My 7 hours to Bangkok had begun.

Shockingly, the bus went the whole seven hours without a pit stop. We glided over overpasses and under underpasses until we settled at a bus terminal. It was 2am and I needed to get to Khao San Road. Now, if you haven't heard of Khao San Road, do yourself a favour and Google it. It is the backpacker epicenter of Southeast Asia. the jump-off point to the entire region, from Vietnam to Indonesia. As such, it is densely packed with everything tat caters to the just-out-of-college traveling-on-my-parents'-money crowd. It is not Thailand. It is the Byward Market on a Friday night, every night. But, it is also very cheap and convenient, otherwise I probably would have gone elsewhere. Bars openly advertised their strong cocktails that had the ability to get you very very drunk. No one was there to sip sloe gin fizz and play backgammon, only to get drunk as quickly and cheaply as possible, nothing more.

I arrived on a Friday night, so festivities were in full swing. Drunkards, bars blasting Oasis and Flo Rida, touts, hookers, lots of neon. A terrible first impression. I had to navigate this fray and find somewhere to hunker down for the remaining hours of the night. The place I found was tiny, but it had a cheap bunk for me. It was very hot and crowded. Loud music thumped audibly outside. I slept warily.

Next morning I got a private room. No more sleeping in a warren. The room was only a little bit wider than the bed itself, but wide enough for me. While I was checking in, some trashy dude with a Counting Crows gone Krishna hairstyle hastily exited the hostel while the owner yelled at him. He didn't pay and was skipping out on the bill. These are the people of Khao San Road I would come to learn. I slept until noon.

Next day I ventured out to buy a new camera. As you may recall, my last one got wrecked during the Songkran festivities, so I was in the market for something relatively similar to replace it. I walked back out onto Khao San Road. Thankfully it was more sane. Vendors had rolled out onto the streets selling T-shirts plastered with frat-boy humour. At the end of the street, tuk tuk drivers formed a phalanx trying to rope people into their "anywhere 5 baht" scam. This "anywhere" they speak of actually involves numerous trips to tailors and jewelry stores and a wasted afternoon, so, like a game of Red Rover, I blustered through them and made my way to the bus stop.

The number 15 bus rolled through Siam Square, kind of like the Times Square or Picadilly Circuis of Bangkok. I was told there were numerous camera stores in that area. What I wasn't told however, was that the entire area had become a nesting ground for the Red Shirts, a protest group that seeks to dissolve parliament and has been stirring up all kinds of trouble lately. They had turned the entire length of road underneath the Skytrain into a makeshift ghetto. The roads all around were closed off with tires and bamboo sticks with red flags on them. Everywhere, Red Shirt paraphernalia was being sold and rallying cries were blaring out of megaphones. Evidently this protest had some serious weight behind it. There were hundreds of people sleeping, lining up for food, walking about. In the dead center of the fenced off area, a massive rally was taking place. Everyone's shirt was red. A woman on stage was singing what sounded like a protest song while everyone fervently cheered. Banners placed behind the stage, in full view of the TV cameras, announced in English and Thai that they were not terrorists. I grabbed a few shots with my Rollei and moved onwards to try and find a store that had not been shut down.

Thankfully, the protests had not affected MBK, the massive shopping complex closeby. Inside I located a camera store and eventually a new camera. It was a slightly crappier Canon, but I didn't want to break the bank given the average life expectancy of electronics under my care. Having acquired what i came for, I set out again through the thick of the protesters.

Back on Khao San I grabbed some pad Thai and chewed pensively. Yes I will go out and try to meet people tonight. I knew it would be tough for me though. In Indonesia and Malaysia, there was a small handful of fellow backpackers around at all times, and it was usually pretty easy to strike up a decent conversation. Here, I was witnessing the Rape of Siam, hundreds of party animals roaming in packs, no one out to make friends or alliances it seemed. Everyone for themselves. Lonely Planet pointed me in the direction of a bar that supposedly played good music, but it was closed. Having a copy that is two editions too old can be a pain sometimes. I found another place that was nice. A rooftop bar allowed for excellent views of the surrounding temples that were lit up at night. I hung out for a bit, enjoying the view, then left to find someplace else.

I passed a huge gaggle of Japanese backpackers along the way and decided to see if any of my language skills still held up. A guy and his girlfriend seemed pretty surprised by my ability to converse with them. They invited me to sit down and have a beer with their group. Always easier to break the ice in another language. The evening ended with with me agreeing to go to Kanchanaburi the next day with Sophia, the lone Korean girl that found her way into the group. It happened so quickly, but I told myself to never pass up an opportunity for new experiences. Plus, the vulgarity of Khao San Road after only one night was already too much to handle. I would be back in Bangkok soon enough though.

Entrance to the Red Shirt ghetto.

Red Shirt rally.