Krabi Town

The solo portion of my trip has, for the time being, come to an end. Today, I linked up with my long-time motorcycling partner, John Arnold. As usual, our synchronistic link allowed us to find each other within minutes of our appointed meeting time even though we are fifteen time zones from home. But I am getting ahead of myself.

I awoke to sunny skies in Trang. Of course, that is so blatantly obvious a statement that only an Idiot would bother to write it down. Out on the streets at 7 AM, the heat was already building. Within minutes I had found the morning market, settled into the multiple course walking brekkie that begins any shining new Thai day. After sating myself and soaking up the magic of the market, I packed up the gear, bade my house gecko a fond farewell, and found the sorng-ta-ou (what is a songtheuw up north, or at least that is my transliteration. Down here in the south it is otherwise and I stand corrected).

This handy means of transport is a little pickup truck with two rows of seats (sorng-ta-ou meaning "two rows") in the back under an open air metal canopy. Some of the northern version just have a roll bar type cage. For 12 baht ( 40 cents) the thing roams hither and yon across town on some predetermined but mystical route, picking people up and dropping them off until you are sure you are going backwards and then, suddenly, there you are at the bus station just like you planned it.

I could have just taken the vomit van from my hotel in Trang directly to Krabi Town. It would have been easy. But, I felt like a bus ride. And I saved almost 100 baht ( $3,20 ). But I had forgotten the hidden cost. What was I thinking? The ordinary buses are open windowed affairs that rattle merrily along the road, taking their sweet time. Instead, I got a government air-con bus, the tall ones with the huge windows and posh comfort. The same posh comfort that comes with the video screen and speakers running the length of the bus. Powerful speakers. For two hours I was barraged with Thai music videos, complete with Karaoke prompts in case you want to sing along. Some of my fellow passengers did.

Thai pop music is amazing. The first set of songs were all about a handsome but very poor working boy who falls for a beautiful and unobtainable rich girl. They are star-crossed lovers. In one, the boy is badly beaten by the rich father's thugs. Then he dies while pushing the distraught girl out of the way of a vomit van. Swear to God, its true. All of this is set to a crooning, heart string-pulling sort of sweet pop tune, plaintive and sugary. In another, the same scenario except the haughty girl is bitten by a poisonous snake and the boy leaps to the rescue, sucking the poison out of the girls glorious gam. I shit you not, I was watching this. The girl, noting the life-saving qualities of the poor boy, falls head over heels for him. OK, she was already on her ass after the snake bit her, but you get the drift.

Then came Boy Bands, dance moves and all. Not to be outdone, there were Girl Bands, complete with bad Techno and Catholic School Girl outfits. Two hours of my life I could have been comfortably squashed in with 13 other farang instead of having my high notions of Thai culture battered to jelly.

Dropped of a the Krabi bus station, barely conscious, I caught another sorng-ta-ou into Krabi Town. As I alighted on the pavement, I hadn't taken fifteen steps before I heard "You, hey You." Thinking is was a tout trying to sell me a tour, I kept walking, only to have John appear at my side. He had a cafe table waiting and the reunion commenced. Lovely. We smoked a cigar and swilled espresso until we had worked ourselves into an afternoon lather.

We have fortified ourselves with yet another market dinner, this one topped off with coconut waffles!!!! And we have laid in plans for our boat ride to Ko Lanta and south, but not before we trek out to the Tiger Cave Temple. The Wat is carved into the walls of a limestone cave, and is decorated with human skulls and skeletons to help folks contemplate the transient nature of human existence. Damn, I love Buddhist humour!

Sent from the Lair of the Thievin' Monkeys