New Years 2005

Question: Is being on an 8 hour bus to Bangkok with no toilet like being in the desert on a horse with no name?

Random note: I have uploaded more photos. There are some of camp and some of Christmas with my students. The photos from Bangkok are not yet available, but check these out when you have a moment if you are interested.

A Story: After three days in Bangkok of running around all day and getting up to all sorts of random trouble until late hours of the night, I was exhausted and needed to get away. I took a train three hours north to the town of Lopburi. Don't worry if you've never heard of it, it is a very small town, known for it's Khmer ruins and monkies. A great combination if ever there was one. I did very little in Lopburi except walk around, check out the ruins and sleep. I spent most of the afternoon on a park bench eating food, enjoying the shade and watching the monkies play in a monkey playground. The playground is in the middle of a large traffic circle near the train tracks and as I walked back to my quiet, cool hotel room for a nap, I watched the monkies naviagating traffic and wondered how many of them get killed and maimed that way every year.

This, although I could not have known it at the time, is what's known as foreshadowing...

The next morning, I got up early and went to the bus station two hours before the bus was scheduled to depart, in order to ensure myself a ticket. I had assumed that the bus from Bangkok to Mae Sot passed through Lopburi and it would be easy to travel home from there, but I was wrong. I had to go four hours further north to a town that sounds like "Piss-on-you-lock" and catch another bus from there. No one was really sure about this other bus, but assumed there would or could be one.

Despite being at the bus stop ridiculously early, I was told that there was standing room only on the bus. It was a windy morning, it was New Years Eve, I was homeward bound and feeling bright and alive and adventurous. I ate breakfast and watched people. There were two other foreigners in the bus station, studiously ignorning me. When the bus pulled up, I realized that not only was there no seats, there was no room at all. Not to be detered, I jumped up and pushed my way on board before the bus had even come to a halt. The two foreigners realized what was happening far too late and argued loudly with the bus driver for several minutes. I'm not sure what they hoped to accomplish. The bus driver clearly did not speak any English and there was clearly no room on the bus for two more people and their ridiculously large backpacks. The bus pulled out of the station and I waved goodbye to them rather cheekily. Something which I later, rather regretted.

The bus took the road back through town. I was standing up near the front, almost directly in front of the windsheild and quite comfortable. Someone hanging out the door made a fuss and we all shifted back. I ended up about a meter further down the bus, wedged a little uncomfortably next to an old man with the largest pair of plastic frames I have ever seen, worn upside down with a hunk of blue foam on his nose. "Happy New Year," he said. "America and Thailand, big friends!" We were approaching the traffic circle with the monkey playground. A train was approaching. "You Christian?" he asked.

The bus was moving very slowly. I could hear the sound of the train at the station. I looked through the front window. The bus showed no signs of stopping. I could see the traffic arm descending to stop traffic. It wasn't just that everything was moving in slow motion because it was horrible. The bus really wasn't going that fast, and we all know that traffic barriers are rather slow. It was with a sense of unreality then, that I watched the red and white traffic barrier smash it's way through the window of the bus.

The girl sitting at the very front up against the window saw it coming and was able to move away, as was the person standing right behind her. It was the man who had taken my spot who got impaled by it.

At least the traffic barrier did it's job. At the speed we were travelling, we would most certainly have been hit by the train had we continued. The barrier, in crashing through the front windscreen, halted the progress of the bus and the train passed us by at a safe distance. The man was not badly hurt. His arm was dripping blood and appeared to be broken. He walked unsteadily and looked as if he was in shock. An ambulance arrived. The traffic arm was removed from the window. The other traffic arm had hit the side of the bus and couldn't be moved. Someone had to saw it off with a handsaw.

All this time, I was filled with a sense of shocked horror. But as the accident scene cleared and the bus was taken away, I began to regain my calm. Confusion now reigned. What was going to happen? There was one man, who had sold me my ticket, who spoke some English, but he was too busy doing (what?) something to talk to me. The police officers on the scene pretended not to hear me and the passengers just smiled at me. Everyone had a calm expression on their face, so I was lulled into believing that everything was being taken care of and another bus would soon come. I sat in the shade and watched the monkies safely navigate the traffic. Damned monkies.

For the next two hours the confusion became a sense of growing frustration. Someone finally called the tourist police who promised to come and explain the situation for me, but never showed up. Soon, I knew, the next bus would leave for Phitsanulok and on it would be those two foreigners with the big backpacks, waving cheekily to me as they went merrily on their way. Meanwhile, I would be stuck in Lopburi counting down the new year with the smug monkies.

There was a train at noon and eventually, I cut my losses and got on the train. Before leaving, I tried talking to someone about my bus ticket, seeing about getting my money back. The man looked sadly at me. "There was an accident," he explained, looking wise.

The bus cost 100 baht and is said to take four hours. The train cost half the price and for some mysterious reason takes six. There was standing room only and I ended up wedged into the space between carriages with a bunch of Thai soldiers. From what I have observed, Thai soldiers rarely go anywhere in a group without beer. These soldiers were certainly no exception. They were quite happy to make my acquaintance and more than happy to share their cold beer and whiskey cocktails. I was wanting to regain my spirit of adventure and more than happy to drink with them. We passed a few hours that way and after a few beer, I relaxed and got about enjoying the day again.

The scenery in Thailand is spectacular. The rice paddy is a brilliant bright green, full of white herons rising up into the dusty blue sky. Palm trees and bananna trees litter the landscape. Golden temples flash in the sun. Water buffalo raise their sleepy heads to watch the train pass. Wooden houses on stilts with washing hanging on the line form small villages with raised walk ways over the water. Young children swim in the muddy pools.

The soldiers got off the train at some point and I eventually got myself a seat. I watched the sun set in a huge ball of dark red into the green feilds and was happy. Even if I spent New Years alone in some strange town, at least I had seen the last sun set of the old year.

I jumped off the train as it was still moving and ran for the exit. I jumped on the back of a taxi-moto and yelled in Thai: "to the bus station!" Catching my sense of urgency, the driver took me on the wildest ride of my motorcylcing career. We pulled up just as the national anthem was playing, at the stroke of 6pm. I had 6 hours to make it to Mae Sot.

There were no busses to Mae Sot, I was told. But in an hour and a half, I could get a bus to Tak. Now Tak is a hole if there ever was one, not even warrenting a map in the Rough Guide. Tak is also the name of an evil spirit in a Steven King book, but it was closer to my goal and so I bought a ticket and grabbed dinner.

By the time the bus departed, it was quite dark and the bus moved through the night with speed that satisfied my growing anxiety. Would I spend the new year alone in a dingy hotel in a town by the name of Tak? I felt sure this would be the case.

We arrived in Tak at 9:30pm, to an almost empty bus station. There were certainly no busses heading to Mae Sot at the time. I began asking around for a songthew - a truck with benches in the back and a common form of public transit. I met a man who would take me if we found enough people to go. He seemed sure that if we waited, these people would show up. Alternatively, I could pay him a ridiculous sum of money. I looked around at the deserted bus station. Where were we going to find these people?

At one time in my earlier travels, I had been in somewhat of a similar situation. I had been trying to get somewhere for a certain time and was a little desperate about it. At night time I had pulled into a town with one leg of my journey left and I had found someone who was willing to take me for a certain sum of money. I got into the taxi and started out on the most hellish ride of my life. It began with the driver telling me that although he was a taxi driver, he was also a police man. He then pulled out a gun and a bottle of whiskey.

There I was, in Tak, desperate to get to Mae Sot and I found someone willing to take me. As we are waiting for these non-existant people to appear from no where and join us for the trip, the driver starts telling me that although he is a songthew driver, he is also a military police man. I started to have a very bad feeling about the whole situation. How badly did I need to get to Mae Sot anyways? Was the world trying to tell me something? Maybe it was just the kind of day where you stay put. In Benin, West Africa, they believe that you should welcome in the New Years in your home for good luck, not go anywhere. I was beginning to come around to their way of thinking.

By 10pm, the people had, in fact, materialized and we had a full truck ready to set out for Mae Sot. The driver did not appear at all drunk, there was no whiskey to be seen and thankfully, no gun. We sped around winding corners through the night on an empty road. The driver let me off in front of the bar sixteen and a half hours after I had left my hotel room that morning. It was 11:30 and I had half an hour until midnight.

I was welcomed into the bar with cheers of delight and warm hugs. No one had been expecting me. I was more filthy that you can imagine and probably stunk, but I was quite happy to be home. Someone got me a cold beer and a shot of tequilla with crushed chilies. As the New Year approached, we made fire balloons and sent them off into the night, filling them with all our bad karma and good hopes for the new year.

It's good to be safe, among friends and back home.
Happy New Year everyone.