How not to apply for a visa.

My last day in Bangkok was spent almost entirely in a cafe near the train station, where I eeked out a meal and a drink for about five hours. I chatted to a Peruvian man named Carlos, and managed to Skype one of my friends, who is notoriously difficult to get hold of (thanks for getting up so early!). It was great to catch up, and realise that despite eight months of near-silence (for which I accept 50% responsibility), nothing has changed.

I found my berth on the train, but the beds weren’t set up, so I sat on the roomy leather seat and got chatting to the Canadian couple in the next seats along (who live in the same city as my mum and brother), and an English couple opposite. Hours passed, some people (myself not included) bought the expensive though well-portioned train-food, and then a little man in a pink silk jacket began to make his way down the train, setting up beds. This sounds pretty mundane, but the speed at which he performed this task was astonishing, and slightly alarming. He adjusted the seats, laid out the mattresses, put on the sheets, pulled on the pillowcases and hung up the curtains for two beds in one minute and thirty-three seconds. We were hugely impressed. The result was comfy and private, and I would have had a great night’s sleep if the fluorescent light above my head had been switched off.

We arrive in Chiang Mai at 8:00, I found my hostel, and then walked around the small town. I visited some of the ubiquitous wats: the bustling Wat Phra Singh, the half-destroyed Wat Chedi Luang, the dark teak Wat Phan Tao. As with all popular wats, any promise of calmness and serenity was quashed by the footfall of hundreds of tourists. By the afternoon I felt like I needed a bit of space, so I enrolled in some yoga classes. It’s been months since I’ve practiced, so I felt immobile, stiff, and unbalanced, but despite this, I enjoyed the class, which was lead by an instructor who distractingly resembled Sacha Baron Cohen. After the class I went for lunch with a girl I met there called Shane, then wasted the late afternoon with a rest.

In the evening I met back up with Shane and two of her German friends, and we visited the Sunday Market. It started out fine, various wares were on sale, some of which were marginally different to what I’d seen before. As time went on, however, more and more people attempted to crush between the stalls. The result was sticky and uncomfortable, so we gave up and visited a jazz club, where a funky group entertained us with plucky slap bass and whistling guitar riffs.

Today was another significant admin day. I hired a bike, then cycled to the Indian Consulate, a few kilometres from the centre of the city. This took longer than anticipated, as I hadn’t factored in the awkward network of one-way streets, hindering my attempts to access my destination, but eventually I made it. Upon my arrival, the man working there informed me that I needed proof of flights in and out of the country, and confirmation of my booking at the hostel I’d put as a reference. I hadn’t been aware of this, as it hadn’t been specified online, but fortunately, I had two whole hours to find WiFi, book a tour, book flights, book a hostel, find a way to print confirmation of all of the above and cycle back to the consulate. I had to apply for my India visa today, because I only have nine days left on my Thai tourist entry. The India visa takes a week to come through, so I’m cutting it quite fine.

I switched into efficiency mode, ignoring the gnawing sensation of anxiety in my stomach, and found a cafe with a benevolent manager (in possession of a printer), just a few minutes down the road from the consulate. I skimmed STA, impulsively chose a tour, then set to buying flights, from Yangon to Bangkok, then Bangkok to Delhi (because that was cheaper than going directly from Myanmar), then bought a third flight from Kochi to Calgary (which is going to be very long and highly enjoyable). I then booked the hostel I’d written on my application, printed everything, and paid for my tea and the inconvenience I’d caused. I pedalled back to the consulate, arriving with about half an hour to spare, and breathed a sigh of relief as my paperwork was handed in. Niggling doubts about the authenticity of some of the details on the form are plaguing me, but there’s nothing I can do now apart from keep everything crossed.

After my faffy morning, I decided to cycle to Wiem Kum Kam; some temple ruins in the southeast. I had many of the wats to myself, and was able to salvage a sense of calm from my previously pressurised state. After a while the sun got too hot, so I cycled back to town for lunch.

I went to my second sweaty yoga class, then had dinner and met up with Shane. We went to the same jazz bar as yesterday, and the band tonight was awesome, especially the silky-voiced drummer. He had a smooth tone that you would never expect to resonate from a tiny Thai man.

It’s been a mixed few days. I like Chiang Mai, but my experience so far has been extremes of pressure and peacefulness. I’m hoping things will settle into something more constant over the next few days. Hopefully closer to the peaceful end of the spectrum.

Visa-vis

Now that Mariana has abandoned me (sob) I decided to finally tackle some gargantuan life admin that I’ve been trying to ignore. Before I left the UK I had a pretty good idea of where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do. There have been some changes of plan, like The Return to China, but that’s fine, I was quite happy to be flexible. My route kind of fizzled out after Thailand. I was thinking of maybe going to Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia, but truthfully, I was convinced I would have run out of money by now.

By some miracle, this isn’t the case, and I think I have another couple of months to play with. I’ve decided to change tack, and head north to Myanmar. Originally, it wasn’t on my radar, but I’ve met too many people expounding its awesomeness to ignore it.

I took the Skytrain to the Myanmar Embassy, arriving about an hour before it opened, and joined the queue that had already begun to snake out of the door. The doors opened half an hour later, and I filled in the two sides of A4 that comprised the application, sharing my precious pen with the Spanish guy and Polish girl behind me. At 9:00 the desk opened, and by 09:30 everything had been handed in, and I’d been given a receipt urging me to pick up my passport on Friday. It was a lot easier than expected, so I was then faced with a lot of time.

I walked to Lumphini Park, and finished my book in the comparative calm and greenery. As I was sitting, contemplating and ruminating, a gigantic lizard sauntered past me. Here’s a picture with my feet to show its proximity.

He was pretty chilled, and just had a little sniff around before slinking into the water. Half an hour later there was more excitement. A beaming fourteen-year-old boy sat next to me and tried to start a conversation, despite obviously not having listened in his English lessons. He was sweet, and insisted on giving me a polythene bag of mango as I was leaving.

I walked around the park, which unlike its Chinese counterparts, was strikingly unpeopled, then explored the wider area, inadvertently stumbling into Patpong, the notorious red-light district of Bangkok. It was bad enough seeing the morning clear-up operation; I have no intention of seeing it’s nocturnal jocularity. I then visited a bank and bought some crispy US dollars to use in Myanmar. Apparently they have to be crispy or they won’t be accepted. I’ll go over them with an iron if I get a chance.

My life admin still wasn’t over. I walked for half an hour to the train station, booked a ticket for Saturday, and then in a moment of madness (that lasted about two hours) chose to walk eleven kilometres home instead of taking the Skytrain. I’m trying to watch the pennies, but that was maybe excessive stingyness. I saw a lot of luxury hotels, and grimy street food stalls, and eventually, made it back to my hostel.

The following day I decided against the eleven kilometre walk, opting instead for the next cheapest option: the bus. Actually, it was equally as cheap; there was no one on-board selling tickets, so it ended up being free. Over an hour later I was finally in the Old Town. I took a ferry across the river, and ended up in the maze of Siriraj Hospital. This was intentional, and after a few minutes I found the Forensic Museum that’s secreted in one of the buildings. It was captivatingly disgusting. Jar upon jar of malformed babies lined the shelves, with Thai descriptions of their grotesque mutations. There were also embryos at various stages of development, before they had matured into foetuses. They looked like little seamonkeys; it was hard to believe that their jellies forms once harboured life. In the next room were preserved corpses of rapists, cannibals and murderers, along with organs and skulls, mostly belonging to victims of road collisions. This wasn’t surprising given the number of motorbikes and the style of driving in this part of the world. The third room housed information on parasites, and made me hugely paranoid of the creepy crawlies that could be nestling inside my own intestines. There were disturbingly graphic photos of the extrapolation of various kinds of worm, and I fervently hope that my paranoia is entirely unfounded. There was also a huge swollen scrotum on display, about the size of a tyre on an articulated lorry. It was rather disagreeable.

In addition, the museum housed a fascinating exhibit on the Tsunami. Interviews with doctors who responded to the emergency were entwined with footage of the aftermath, and until that point I don’t think I’d realised how gruesome the tragedy was. Over 5000 deaths were confirmed in Thailand, with the estimated mortality reaching up to 8000, and the injuries sustained were truly revolting – mainly caused by blunt trauma, and soon infected by sand and grit. The doctors of Siriraj Hospital performed amazingly under horrendous conditions and enormous pressure, and I felt privileged to be given an insight into their work.

Once my curiosity and squeamishness were exhausted, I walked down to the Skytrain (which took about forty minutes) and alighted at Siam. I snailed up the escalators to the sixth floor of the Paragon Centre, and bought a cinema ticket. I’d been wanting to see The Theory of Everything for a while, and it seemed like a good excuse to escape the sweaty humidity for a couple of hours. Plus I hadn’t been to the cinema since Vietnam, and that was about three months ago. We stood up to honour the King of Thailand; a kindly, approachable-looking man, often pictured with a camera around his neck, and then the film began. Waves of nostalgia and homesickness washed over me as the familiar drizzly grey of England was projected onto the screen. I was taken aback when I noticed how bizarre it seemed to see people eating boiled potatoes and broccoli, and realised the extent of my Asian acclimatisation. Maybe it’s getting a bit out of hand; I can’t remember the last day when I didn’t eat rice.

I left the cinema and found myself in the hybrid metropolis of Bangkok, with its clusters of expats, and billboards of familiar brands. There’s even a Tesco (albeit Lotus) at the end of my street. I walked back to the hostel from the station, and began filling in the online form for another visa, because I enjoy admin so much.

Today I visited Jim Thompson’s house, near the National Stadium. It’s a beautifully preserved former-home in a traditional Thai style, with some Western alterations for convenience. The antiques and furniture housed therein were gorgeous, and gave me lots of ideas for how to furnish my own home, when I have one (which will probably be never).

I then walked down to the Myanmar Embassy, and after forty minutes of waiting, was reunited with my battered passport. She now holds five visas, and is beginning to look very well-loved. We caught the Skytrain back together, and then I finished off a bit more admin for my next visa application.

These past few days have involved an enormous amount of admin, but I didn’t mind too much. I enjoy dull, menial tasks like filling in forms, and the satisfaction of completing them. My admin has also meant that I’ve felt more like a resident in Bangkok, rather than a tourist. I know where the cheaper places to eat are, and how the different districts connect to each other. As a result, I like the city a lot more than when I first arrived. It’s not Shanghai, but it has a similar international feel. And sometimes it’s nice to be reminded of home.

Ne me quitte pas.

We got up at 7:00, and were met by our first minibus forty minutes later. We caught two spluttering ferries and eventually made it to the mainland. When we arrived in Krabi we were told to change minibus, but we had an hour before our next one would arrive. We grabbed a saccharine bubble tea, and then settled into our second bus. The journey lasted about five minutes – the minibus had just taken us to another bus station, where we were told that we needed to take a big bus, but again, it wouldn’t be there for another hour. It was at this point that Mariana began to understand the vagaries of Asian bus rides. I never expect a bus to be on time, and I always expect to arrive about three hours later than the time specified – I’m rarely disappointed, but occasionally pleasantly surprised – my cynicism is self-preserving, and helps to keep me patient. And sane. The big bus arrived, and drove us towards Surat Thani. It then stopped at a random point on a motorway, and a third minibus drove us into the city. At this point it was 16:00. We thought we’d have time to see a bit of the town, but alas, it wasn’t to be. By a blinding stroke of luck we stumbled upon the airport shuttle bus, and made the forty-five minute journey without any problems. Our flight departed, and arrived, and after a further taxi ride into a very residential area of Bangkok, we arrived at our destination, fifteen hours after setting off. Sometimes there are days when it takes a long time to get somewhere.

In light of the horrifically drawn out and boring day of travel that preceded it, we decided to squeeze every last drop out of Mariana’s last day in Bangkok. We got up and took the Skytrain into Siam; the pulsing heart of Bangkok’s shopping scene. Hemmed in by malls, we gaped at the impossibly expensive luxury brands at Paragon, and laughed at the naff crap on sale at MBK. To its credit, however, MBK does have an exceptional foodhall, where we made up for our missed breakfast with a huge plate of vegetable curry.

We then caught the Skytrain to Thonburi, where we believed there would be some floating markets. No such markets appeared to exist, and we didn’t fancy paying an extortionate price to see ‘five or six’ boats that made up the weekday contingent. Instead we made the decision to walk to Wat Arun. Mariana and I both enjoy walking, so initially this seemed like a brilliant idea. About forty minutes later, the stifling humidity and burning heat lead us to reevaluate our choice. We were determined, however, and pressed on until we were resting in the shade of the temple. We admired the kooky mosaic of the prang, which was being painstakingly rennovated, then took the ferry across the river and caught a tuk-tuk to the Golden Mount. The view was stunning, and despite the blare of traffic below, the deep chanting of the monks created an oasis of calm in the middle of a city that never stops.

As New Year was approaching, we decided to walk to Chinatown. It didn’t take nearly as long as our first attempt, and if anything the bustling streets were even busier, as people bought food and red envelopes for the celebration. We were jostled down Yaowarat, and caught another tuk-tuk, which, on account of the traffic, only succeeded in taking us most of the way to the Sirocco Sky Bar.

We nervously entered the towering complex, conscious of our sticky dresses and makeup-free faces. Regardless of this, we were relieved of our backpacks and were put in a lift which zoomed up to the 64th floor. We stepped out onto the deck, and the city sprawled out before us. We were dumbstruck. The twinkling lights were serene and peaceful, the noise of the city deadened by the sheets of wind, which blew away the humidity that had plagued us all day. We ordered horrendously expensive cocktails (maybe they hiked the prices up after The Hangover 2), and then gazed at the city that we’d only just begun to understand. It was a perfect way to end our time together, and I don’t think it’s something either of us will ever forget.

We reluctantly descended back into the grime of the city, caught the Skytrain back to our hotel, and parted ways, Mariana bound for the airport, myself bound for another hostel.

Mariana and I are perfect travel buddies. Ever since we met five years ago, in a musty school hall ready for our first language exchange, we’ve known that we’re effectively the same person. My excitement at seeing her at the airport, bearing gifts of cheese (what else would a Swiss person bring) and unquenchable enthusiasm, refused to wane for the entire time we spent together. Our mp3 players are interchangeable, our thoughts and opinions run parallel, and our tastebuds find very little to disagree on (the exceptions being mushrooms and olives, which is only advantageous to me). It’s going to be strange to readjust to being alone again. We definitely didn’t have enough time. But fortunately, I don’t think this will be the last occasion on which we travel together. We’re already planning the next trip.

One night in Bangkok and the world is our oyster.

We spent more than one night in the capital, but that’s not how the song goes. We got up at 08:00, which was pretty impressive considering our journeys the day before; Mariana slept for one hour in the previous thirty-eight. The sun was already beating down, and it felt utterly ludicrous to know that the hat, scarf and gloves that have been saving me from frostbite for the past two weeks are now redundant. We followed the line of the river, passing countless wats with their cool white walls and flaming gold roofs, and squeezed through a market selling small metal amulets and buddhas, inching between elderly monks who peered over their glasses at the intricate craftsmanship. We then joined the hoards of tourist groups visiting the Grand Palace, but were put off by the price. Instead, we walked around the back of the grounds to Wat Pho, which houses a forty-six metre reclining Buddha, and is the oldest wat in the country.

We then made our way up to Wat Mahahat, to do a bit of casual meditation. If any of you have ever tried to sit perfectly still for a prolonged amount of time, you’ll know that it’s one of the most painful things imaginable. We started the session with some mindful walking, before sitting in half-lotus until we lost the feeling in our legs. We repeated these exercises with the monk leading the session for three hours, and somewhere in the depths of my discomfort, I found a brief stillness.

We quickly eradicated the effects of our serene self-awareness by delving into the chaos of Chinatown. After a few misguided attempts we found the neon lights and the steaming street stalls. We grabbed some food, then took a tuk-tuk back to the hostel, exhausted after our exertions.

The following morning we checked out and caught the local bus to the bus station. It took ages, partly because we had to wait for three trains to pass at a hugely impractical crossing. We arrived, and fifteen minutes later we were sat in a minivan on the way to Ayutthaya. We arrived just over an hour later, and walked in the sweltering heat to the hotel. We had to book a private room because there were no dorms available, but this wasn’t a problem now that I’m no longer a solo traveller. Our room wasn’t ready, so we hired some bikes and went to see the temples. They were similar to those at Angkor Wat, but refreshingly there weren’t many tourists; the sites were steeped in an atmosphere that was more calm, serene and reflective. We saw the famous Buddha head which is mysteriously trapped in a tree trunk, and wandered past the various chedis and walls which have fallen into disrepair.

We got some lunch at a random shed, and then cycled down to the river and chartered a boat. We circled around the whole island, past huge lizards that leered at us as they gnawed on fresh fish. We passed beautiful houses and more wats, and were surprised to find that we were one of the only boats on the water – perhaps that’s why the locals were so happy to see us, young and old alike waving as they saw the boat approach. We disembarked and then cycled over to the ‘floating market’, which is really just a load of tourist shops set on a wooden walkway around a lake. It was a little disappointing, but maybe we’ll get a chance to see the one in Bangkok. By this point it was getting dark. We returned our bikes, had some dinner, before planning our next move.

We’ve been ridiculously busy since we arrived in Thailand. Mariana and I are very similar in that we want to do everything, but I think we might be forced to slow down a bit before too long. It’s great to have someone to make decisions with, to laugh at bizzare things with (we cycled past a shop today which dealt solely in statues of cockerels), and to share experiences with. We’re having lot of fun.