February 21, 2015
A couple of nights in Bangkok: Khao San Road
Yannis and I had differing itineraries which meant that our ride into Bangkok would be our last day of cycling together, which was very sad in one way, but also very good in another way because I was starting to miss the sun. The rain was coming down heavier than ever as we started on our ambitious task to ride bicycles into a sprawling city famous for its heavy traffic. Having cycled into some of the least bicycle-friendly cities in the world I knew very well that I needed a plan and, as ever, I came with one. For example, when I cycled into Mexico City I had detailed maps that meant I could use the smallest roads possible, which worked very well. And in Istanbul I cleverly went north of the city before following the Bosphorus in, thus completely avoiding all the traffic. These previous plans had been very successful, which may have led to slight complacency on my part because this time I'd unfortunately not had the chance to do my homework and my plan was to... ahem... follow Yannis.
But following Yannis turned out to be a very good plan indeed (even if I do say so myself,) because he had an I-phone and a good map and he'd been to Bangkok before and he knew what he was doing. As he directed us heroically through the suburbs I began to feel a bit like a hapless sidekick, which isn't something a leading man should have to put up with, but what the hell it saved me having to think. And cycling into Bangkok actually turned out to be really quite alright, because we took a busy main road, and for most of the morning the traffic was so steadfastly gridlocked that nothing bigger than us was actually moving.
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The only moment of genuine interest, unless you count that flower, was when a car pulled over in front of us as we cycled on an unusually ungridlocked stretch and the driver got out and beckoned for us to stop. He quickly asked if he could take a photo of us, muttering something about being a cyclist himself as he raised his camera and snapped the shot. Once the photoshoot was concluded we moved onto the conversation, which he began with the commonly used ice-breaker of "Do you have Facebook?" The only honest answer that we could give was yes, and he passed us his I-phone so that we could write down our names. Within seconds of us having done so he was back in his car and away. In fact the only reason I even know what his name is that, when I checked online later that day, I had a friend request from him as promised. Not only that, but the photo that he took of Yannis and I had gone viral, and when I say it had gone viral I am lying. But it got 71 likes.
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By the time we neared our destination the rain was a distant memory and the sun had even come out as if anticipating that the two of us would soon be parting. And goodness if there wasn't a bicycle path of all things suddenly. A bicycle path to see us through to our destination, brilliant. It started as a marked line on the sidewalk, and it did in fact have quite a few people walking in it, and some people had put market stalls on it, but still, it was a bicycle path. Then after one hundred metres it rejoined the road at a point where we had to turn right at a roundabout. But the bicycle path was still there, a painted green band of cycling nirvana that we could follow all the way around the roundabout. Well, we got halfway around before it was blocked by a giant billboard. But one hundred metres and half a roundabout's worth of bicycle lanes is better than no bicycle lanes. Well done, Bangkok.
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Yannis had taken us to the very touristy part of Bangkok around Khao San Road. Not on Khao San Road exactly, but on a pedestrian street just across from it. Weaving in amongst all the traffic all day had been sufficiently time-consuming that it was late afternoon by the time that we arrived, and almost all of the guesthouses were fully booked up. This was a little frustrating for two sweaty and tired cycle tourists but I made the best of it by volunteering to watch the bikes, taking a seat and enjoying a mango shake, which kindly gave Yannis the opportunity to run around and find us a place to spend the night. And it did also give me a first opportunity to study the curious characters that were wandering around me, all kinds of weird and wonderful people from all over the world (with the possible exception of Thailand) were here in tourist town. I may have been a little too distracted, however, as the man who'd sold me the mango shake started laughing and pointing at a dog that had its leg cocked over one of Yannis's rear panniers. Before I realised what was happening it was too late, the dog had marked its territory and there was a puddle forming beneath the bag. The mango man laughed heartily. I joined in with him. "Its not my bike!" I guffawed.
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Yannis eventually found us a place to stay, and it was actually a good one with cheap, clean, quiet rooms. Once showered and spruced up we regrouped and prepared to hit the town, heading for the infamous tourist street Khao San Road. We missed it of course, and ended up on the next street over, thinking it was Khao San Road. But whatever this street was our mistake was an easy one to make, because it had definitely been infected by Khao San Road, being all restaurants and bars and hawkers walking around selling bracelets and hats and scorpions. We found a place to eat dinner and mostly just watched in awe at the kaleidoscope of people walking down this strange street. People from all over the world, every corner. There were your typical backpackers of course, with their colourful baggy trousers and their dreadlocks, but then there were your white-haired old holiday-makers, and quite a few white-haired dreadlocked old backpackers too. There were muscle-bound lads in vests brushing past Sikh men in turbans and girls in hot pants rubbing shoulders with burka-clad Muslims. Every sort of person was here. And they were the craziest sort of every person. And then we decided to find the real Khao San Road and we got up and walked down an alley until we were there, on the actual true one-and-only Khao San Road, and it was just the same like the first street but on acid. Which I think a few of the people might have actually been. It was a bustling mayhem of noise and action and people and life. This was a crazy party sort of place where wild and insane things could happen until all hours of the night. I thought it best to go back to the guesthouse. Yannis agreed.
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The next day I decided to take a day off in Bangkok before taking on the city traffic again, and, rather than see any of the sights, Yannis and I walked to a bicycle shop. It was quite a long way, but I thought it worth it because with the tragic and sobering news that another cycle tourist had just been killed in Thailand, and on a highway very similar to the one that we had been on for the past few days no less, I really did want to buy a helmet now. Interestingly Yannis's helmet had remained strapped to the back of his bike during the entirety of our time together, a location which would require an extremely unlikely and precise sequence of events to be of any use to him in an accident. "I only use it on very busy roads" he said, which made his decision not to use it on the ride into Bangkok even more baffling.
Unfortunately my 'just follow Yannis' plan failed me now as after looking for the bicycle shop for a very long time it turned out to be closed anyway, and we simply had to trapse all the way back again under the hot sun. Perhaps trying to make amends for this and perhaps also forgetting that I had let a dog pee on his bag, Yannis generously bought me a beer that evening, our last together. We had adventurously returned to the same place where we'd had dinner the previous night and were making the most of our time in Bangkok by watching the second half of Everton v Leicester. Frankly I'd got a bit bored of the tourist freak show and was looking forward to being able to return to Thailand in the morning, when by chance two 19-year-old Norwegian girls came and sat in the chairs just next to us. Now, I'm not one to let an opportunity like that pass me by. And relax Dea, and relax Dea-fans, I'm not one to cheat on everyone's favourite primary love interest. No, I am merely referring to the chance that I had to repay Yannis for the beer, by chatting to the girl next to me in order that he, single and recently clean-shaven, should have the chance to chat to the other. I'm nice like that.
Well I won't go into exactly everything that was said in the moments that followed, but I'll tell you one thing for damn sure - if you happen to be a 30-year-old man and you want to be reminded of how old you're getting, just spend a few minutes talking with a 19-year-old girl. I think Yannis and I both quickly came to understand this. The girls were on a three-month round-the-world trip, the kind of thing I would have loved to have done at their age but never had the balls or the money. Take nothing away from them, they were clearly having a great time, although they had only arrived into Bangkok a few days ago and would soon be leaving for, as one girl put it "where are we going next Mariana?" "Cambodia" "Yeah, Cambodia" and their entire experience of Thailand would be based on the streets around Khao San Road which, I think most Thais would agree, is not a fair reflection on their country. But anyway, Yannis and I soon exchanged enough eye-rolling glances to agree that these girls were, as we politely put it later, too 'immature' for us. Or to put it another way, the girls had got matching tattoos the previous night, or more specifically at five o'clock that morning. They laughed heartily as they pointed down at their feet to show us. On one of each of their big toes was tattooed an animal shape that looked a bit like a pregnant giraffe. "CAMEL TOE!!!" they both screamed, giggling hysterically.
I thought it best to go back to the guesthouse. Yannis agreed.
Today's ride: 52 km (32 miles)
Total: 37,659 km (23,386 miles)
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