The Sebastian Chronicles: Golden Brown All Over

Yo.

Life as a beach bum bear is pretty snazzy. Having returned to the suitcase for the remainder of the journey to Koh Samui I was starting to get a bit worried about ever seeing daylight again.

The ladies didn't take me to the beach at first, and they were overrun by lizards and shark-type slime fish. Coincidence? They learned from this (despite Trixie's claims that she likes lizards, I will break their evil spell soon).

A life of leisure suits me. A bit of sunbathing does one the world of good.

I also bought myself a new shirt, pointedly involving elephants to remind Tallulah that I'm still the cute one on this island. I especially like that it has an elephant bum on the back of the T-shirt.

I declined the offer of sunblock because of the stickiness issue, but may have had a bit too much sun. I started to go a bit crispy, but with every faith that it would fade into an attractive freckle pattern later.

Sure enough, now you can read me like a Magic Eye picture.

Our Tropical Island (and Thailand's Toilets)

The monsoon rains caught up with us on Koh Samui.

We took a first-class train from Bangkok to Surat Thani, arriving at 5.30 am (after an hour's delay), well before dawn. Without the luxury of pickiness, we paid up for the most convenient bus/ferry package and parked ourselves and our luggage in the only open cafe for an exceptionally long breakfast.

If you'll forgive me an aside about toilets: Tallulah's rant about the unsuitability of squat toilets for women is detailed but well-argued. This is especially true when one is on a moving train, when they are just disgusting. Thankfully, we never found ourselves on a long-distance train without an alternative, but we each had occasions on which we were forced to give into the wobbling, insanitary cubicle. For anyone with any joint-related conditions, these can be difficult and unpleasant indeed. These experiences will haunt us, along with a friend's even more detailed explanation some years ago in a Parisian church of how squat toilets greatly increase the frequency of urinary tract infections in women. For more info on this... well, Google it. Don't ask me. Anyway, I was encouraged to find that this cafe had the kind of toilet that I can work with. Simple, yes, but involving a toilet seat. You flush it with water from a tiled, built-in basin ferried over with a plastic bowl, a process closely resembling methods employed by my flatmate and me during a tough plumbing winter.

Anyway, around 8.45 our coach arrived for our 90 minute ride to Donsak, where we boarded a catamaran for a fairly dull ride to Koh Samui. The exotic, lush islands and outcrops were barely visible through the salt-encrusted windows, sadly. The ferry company offered a good taxi fare so we took them up on it, though I slightly regretted it when the driver turned around with a grin and welcomed us to the island with, "So, you're going to give me a BIG tip, yes?"

A medium-sized tip later (received in good grace), we got to check into our hotel early and hit the beach. Bo Phut was beautiful. We sweltered under our beach umbrellas for a while, me spraying Tallulah with SPF 50 every fifty minutes, when she fell into a tropical island slumber, and lazily watching a lizard weave in and out of the wooden parasol mechanism. As we relaxed - reading simply too much hard work - we watched the monsoon moving in across the island.

On one side there were bright skies, on the other dark, brooding clouds threatening a downpour. It took at least an hour before the temperature dropped even a little and the winds finally made us move indoors. As we closed the door to our bungalow, the heavens opened.

Not a bad place to be stuck.

We stayed indoors and listened to the rain, apart from our brief and wet outing to the restaurant when we heard the sounds of the monsoon - large frogs croaking in pots and other unidentifiable amphibian noises.

In the morning, drying off, we toured the island and saw its many natural wonders.

One stop was at the temple of the mummified monk. He is a revered character around the island and it's probably a testimony to his popularity that people still use the temple even while surrounded by "impolitely" dressed tourists. In the 1960s the monk, having predicted that his death was imminent, duly shuffled off while meditating one day and was left to become mummified as he was, complete with sunglasses. Our guide showed us how to use all the fortune-telling apparatus lying around, though we thought that under the circumstances we would be better not knowing about any great misfortunes that may assault us on our travels, as fellow tourists snap-snap-snapped photos of the late mystic. We declined to follow as it felt a bit ghoulish.

Something that was definitely not ghoulish was our newfound love for elephants. We had met an elephant at Siam Niramit in Bangkok but had yet to learn much about them. I was a bit uncomfortable with the idea of wild animals being captured and trained for human convenience, but I was told that the domestic elephant has been bred this way for centuries and they do not do well without humans, which makes me feel better. On Koh Samui we heard about the special relationship between these elephants and their mahouts who are responsible for them for life - theirs or the elephant's. When Tallulah boarded her elephant her mahout decided he would like a special relationship with her, too. He wove her an engagement ring and other accessories from coconut leaves as they lurched about the forest.

Tallulah took to the Gulf of Thailand the next day in one of the hotel kayaks, as I lay and watched with my new friend Amina, who was thrilled that she had sold me one of her lovely floating shirts and sat down for a chat. I explained that I was checking that my friend hadn't drowned, and Amina yelled some encouraging platitudes such as, "Come on, Lala! You can do it!" then helped Tallulah drag the kayak back up the beach. Swimming came next, until something suspicious brushed up against her. Lala doesn't like fish on her plate or on her legs, it seems.

Activity for Trixie didn't involve much more than chewing cashew nuts and waddling down to the massage booth. We decided to go for a foot scrub without thinking about our mutual ticklishness, so the twenty minutes or so was torture. I think we each chewed through a few layers of skin getting through it without yelling and kicking, which may have seemed impolite.

A final surprise - having accidentally left a bag in that taxi on the way to the hotel, we were surprised (to say the least) to find our taxi driver at the door to our bungalow returning it. What a public spirited young man, we thought. He grinned and rubbed his fingers together. "Tip for taxi?"

The Sebastian Chronicles: One Night in Bangkok (then three more)

Thank goodness our hotel had a balcony.

We greeted Bangkok with a good long snuggly sleep, which is where I come into my element. Other elements were not so kind. The fur-lined and fur-covered are not designed for the tropical monsoon, and I refused to go out in Bangkok lest Trixie drop me off the express boat. She was melting in the heat and it only takes one butterfingers moment to lose a bear in the Chao Phraya.

However, we were able to enjoy a few precious sweaty evenings on the balcony, watching the lights pop on all over the modern heart of the city. Trixie and I got bitten by mosquitoes (I'm delicious), which is the downside of staying outside at dusk. It was a magical end to my days of lounging around the hotel, drinking the free water.

Trixie and Tallulah were clearly in high spirits when they packed up for the last time, and forgot that they shouldn't put me in the case if they were going to have me on the train. I have to admit, I'm quite glad as I would have ended up with them at the snake farm and I feel that my famed courage may have deserted me when confronted with a cobra. Not many pythons in the bear forests of northern Europe, either. Unfortunately, this ended with a rather undignified liberation from the depths of the suitcase, culminating in an improvised forceps delivery. I trust that Trixie and Tallulah read my expression of disapproval when my head popped free.

I'm a very forgiving bear, despite being sorely tried, so I let Tallulah have a cuddle (Trixie had to endure my silent judgement for a few more minutes) and read the bit in First Time Asia about travelling with others, as I peered out the window.

Next I'll tell you about my island adventures. Stand by...

Grand Palace; or, I'm too sexy for my ticket

The Grand Palace is impressive. That's certainly true. The one mark against it for us as visitors is that it's so difficult to get in - we saw tens of tourists being turned away for unsuitable dress; this is totally understandable when there's a temple involved and people are wearing hot pants, but people wearing white were being refused on the grounds that it could be see-through, even when it clearly wasn't, and anyone with the tiniest bit of ankle peeking through was refused entry. Despite having visited temples in considerately conservative dress all day, Tallulah was turned away due to her loose morals and three-quarter-length trousers and instead of enduring multiple trips to the sarong rental place she decided to donate her ticket to a delighted passing Mexican.

What it is, of course, is a measure of how much the Thais revere their monarchy, and their current king especially, who after 66 years on the throne is the longest-reigning monarch in the world. We went to the mind-blowingly elaborate show Siam Niramit, which was great fun (and where we met our first elephant) and before the performance we were asked to stand for the national anthem. We went to the cinema in the ultra-modern Siam Paragon shopping centre and we stood for the national anthem before the film. In both At 6pm in many public places the national anthem is played and people stand respectfully. However, there is also a great mutual affection between people and king, with pictures lovingly displayed all over Thailand in beautiful frames with flowers and shiny things. We saw these as we took the train down through a number of towns and, without fail, at some point we would pass at least one huge portrait of the king with "LONG LIVE THE KING" written below in Thai and, often, in English. In our tour minibus, above the driver's head where we have often seen Buddha images displayed, our driver had a faded and well-worn portrait of the king.

The most impressive part of the complex, in my opinion, is the area around the Temple of the Emerald Buddha (actually jade - it was thought to be emerald when its longstanding stucco coating chipped away and in a fit of excitement someone mistook the green stuff for the luxury option), and thankfully Tallulah got a decent view of these bits from the grand entrance where she sat writing postcards while Trixie did a swift tour of the interior.

The downside of being suitably dressed is that one is inclined to swelter in the July heat of Bangkok, so the tour also involved the consumption of an entire litre of water purchased just outside.

Gorgeous!

Wat Arun

The temple of Wat Arun looks impressive from the river, but it also looks like a greying concrete monument. 

Up close, you can see the vibrant colours of the inlaid porcelain – donated, so covered in all sorts of domestic crockery patterns cut into floral shapes. 

While it has just as many tourists as some of the other temples, there’s something very calm and laid-back in the atmosphere that’s really very appealing. We saw a monk showing a young family around and encouraging them to pose while he took pictures for them. Overhead, there were tinkling brass bells ringing from the tops of the five prangs that form the centre of the temple complex. Tallulah braved the near-vertical steps to climb the central tower and was rewarded with fantastic views.

Trixie, meanwhile, searched in vain for shade from the noonday sun all around the temple complex.

In Bangkok at twelve o’ clock they foam at the mouth and run

But mad dogs and Englishmen [and two daft Scots] go out in the midday sun

Thais and their Tuk-tuks

The locals are friendly. A smile seems to go a long way and the Thais are persistent but not overly pushy salespeople. They seem to have a great sense of humour and are generally polite and deferential to others. An older woman gave me her seat on the boat on the very last trip and insisted that I sit in it. The exception was the harried attendant on our boat, whom we have twice encountered, who seemed exasperated by life and not filled with the joys of job satisfaction. Regardless, one of our enduring memories of Bangkok will be the shaking of the coin holder that the boat conductors use to sell tickets, along with our lady’s cries of, “INSIDE!” and the whistling of instructions to the driver as the boats stop at each pier.

 

Wat Arun lies just across the river from Wat Pho. We should have taken the cross-river ferry there from pier 8, at Wat Pho, but we made a mistake and hopped on the ferry one stop too soon so we found ourselves on the trickier side of the river for transport, with no hope of walking all the way to the temple. In an uncharacteristically efficient manner, I hailed a taxi and we jumped in to discover ourselves with a small problem in the sense that the driver could not understand our atonal intonation of “Wat Arun”. Tallulah was quick-thinking and showed him the map in the guidebook, only to realise later that as it was annotated in English it probably wouldn’t help much. He thought about it for a minute and asked, “Wat Arun?” It was pleasant just to sit in an air-conditioned taxi for the couple of kilometres – or, as it is known in Bangkok, couple of hours.

I exaggerate, but the traffic seems horrendous. As I understand it, locals see public transport as somewhat demeaning, so many people would prefer to sit in their own cars – often very expensive – than be caught dead on the Skytrain. As a result our Skytrain journey was very pleasant and was like riding in a fridge! A very empty fridge where every single passenger got a seat – certainly not something we ever saw happen on the boat.

Our attempts to get back to the hotel from Siam Square were repeated and abortive. We completed a circuit of the Siam Paragon mall trying to find a taxi, to find two in a row who did not know how to get to our hotel, even with the directions card, and one who said, “Oh, it’s very far from here” in a manner which implied that we would never find anyone to take us. Just when I was beginning to imagine that we would have to bed down in the car park, Tallulah suggested grabbing a passing tuk-tuk, and we entirely failed to bargain well in the relief that someone would take us home!

I wouldn’t say we nearly died in that tuk-tuk – it was relatively incident free – but the ride had a quality that had Tallulah having vivid flashes of our inevitable bloody deaths by passing bus and me composing the headlines: nothing as exciting as “Brit beheaded in freak tuk-tuk tragedy” but more along the lines of “Student dies in traffic accident” – mundane. Though Tallulah did suggest that the tabloids might go for something along the lines of “Tut-tut, tuk-tuk.” With a picture of us photoshopped giving the thumbs down. When we were crossing the lobby we admitted that our legs were like jelly.

Wat Pho

Amazingly, after our first full day, it wasn’t too hot outside at dusk, even after a scorching day. There was a brief rain shower but we missed it when we were eating. Coming back up the river we headed towards bright, backlit fluffy clouds while behind us was a gloriously moody dark grey, highlighting the temples rising from the riverside.

Next we made for those temples – down the river to Wat Pho. It was spectacular. The colours and patterns are so vivid that it is well worth seeing the temple in 3D. They even have a free bottle of water for every visitor. The reclining Buddha is massive (at forty metres long and fifteen metres high, it's the biggest in the world) and an awe-inspiring sight, even if the faithful do their real worship elsewhere while the tourists file through the famous sanctuary with shoes in a bag.

Wandering was the best part, as the temple complex was extensive and fairly quiet away from the main sights. I knew these temples had some golden decorations on the roof; what I didn’t realise is that they had a mirrorball quality. 

Some pictures:

Where are you going?

Suvarnabhumi airport is really pleasant – gold statues and decoration with flowers everywhere. Only downside was having to hunt for landing cards as British Airways had not brought enough on the plane! Silly.

Immediately accosted by people offering us tours, transfers and every tourist amenity you can think of. Everyone, I think, sees us as walking dollar signs (not unreasonably, considering our per-person budget for this trip is a fairly large proportion of the average annual income of a civil servant in Thailand) as everyone wants to take us on a tour. The hotel sent the car for us despite me saying we didn’t want a transfer so, lo and behold, the driver phoned our room to ask if we wanted a tour! And then every time we passed him at the front door he wanted to take us somewhere… The bellman also kept asking us if we have plans and if we wanted a tour. Everywhere we hear the call, "Where are you going?" It’s a funny extension of the fact that Thais ask people where they’re going in the same way as we ask “how are you doing?” or the Chinese ask “have you eaten yet?” – to say hello. In the end we took our dedicated driver up on the offer to drive us to the train station on our last day, which worked out well for all of us.

When we arrived we were tired but not shattered due to having dozed on the plane pretty effectively. It was a surprisingly painless flight. We ate in the hotel restaurant which was perfectly pleasant and not too expensive. Though my glass noodle soup with minced pork didn’t actually have any glass noodles in it. I think they substituted tofu…

Eventually found the boat pier and worked out how it all works. Monks on board so the ticket collector shooed everyone down the boat and arranged a buffer of male passengers around them. Nice way to get around and it took a slight edge off the 34 degree heat. Slight. The Chao Phraya river is brown with silt, but we still noticed the odd bit of litter spoiling the picturesque. The large dead fish floating past was not a highlight.

We alighted at Chinatown for a good wander. Many shrimp and fish sauce cooking smells, not to the delight of Tallulah, combined with hot and crowded alleys – an assault on the senses! But I think we were prepared for Bangkok to be a bit overwhelming so we’re not really suffering too badly from culture shock. Though I was melting in the heat – waiting for the boat my eyebrows were dripping.

Nice meal in an air-conditioned (our first priority) Chinese restaurant called “Texas Suki”! Huge menu with pictures, which was helpful, and I got to try some pork buns! Glass noodles in the veggie spring rolls – maybe that’s where the ones from my soup ended up.

We have discovered the wonderful cheapness of 7-Eleven water and I thought it would be a good idea to stock up with six litres, forgetting of course that I would have to carry them. So slogged back to the hotel, weak and heavy laden. Must remember to drink!

There are so many beautiful buildings, even the most routine ones. We passed a school in Chinatown with a spectacular dragon-adorned gate in brilliant colours. 

From the river we can appreciate the melding of old and new, with ultra-modern but pretty hotel skyscrapers next to old wooden stilt houses on the canals. The boats are brightly coloured and covered in flower garlands. From our balcony we can see a vast number of skyscrapers, all lit up at night. This is a megalopolis.

The Sebastian Chronicles: Pre-Departure Paws for Thought

Yo. Sebastian here.

My friends over at Re-Learning American seemed keen to get in touch again, so I thought I'd pop in before the serious packing commences.

Glad you can join me us on my our adventure. Trixie and Tallulah need a big strong bear to accompany them. Just between you and me, they tend to read maps upside down and if I have to listen to Trixie argue with her GPS one more time... well, it won't just be Jesus who's taking the wheel, if you know what I'm saying.

I want you to know that I'll take good care of these girls, as much as any one bear can. I'm the security conscious one among us, and I intend to make sure that their wallets are zipped tight and their money belts are securely fastened. This may not only be about security, I admit. I like to travel in the luggage to warn off any prying fingers as we make our way through the airport, and I have no intention of being wrapped in a sarong and crammed between a stuffed kangaroo and a lacquered monk's bowl, staring down the business end of a didgeridoo. The Christmas shopping in New York was bad enough.

But I digress. I'll keep the ladies under control, and in return they promise I will see more than the daily pillow-fluffing routine. Personally, I'm hoping for some pink dolphins, and a tan.

If you don't hear from Trixie and Tallulah for a while, safe to assume they've been eaten by a bear. Follow me on Twitter to find out where I bury the leftovers bodies.

Bear out.

Tropical Trailblazers

Looking ahead to the next journey, I anticipate new experiences, culture shock, good food and great company in the form of a new travelling companion, one of my best friends, whom we shall call Tallulah.

We've been spreading travel guides, coffee table books and maps out for more than a year now, since that fateful day in the Hard Rock Cafe in Edinburgh when one of us said, "I wish I could travel round the world on an epic adventure," and the other said, "Well, let's do that then" - still not clear which was which - and we laid down our onion rings and started plotting. We suffered through that stage when our itinerary for Australia was blank except for a drawing of a mysterious koala. We even stopped going to the HRC so we could save, such was our commitment to the cause.

Many texts, emails, natural disasters and visits to Trailfinders later (excellent people there, by the way), we're all ready with our tickets and can plan in more detail. Thai visa applications, medical import permissions for Singapore, evisitor visas for Australia, lots of inoculations... these lie before us.

I'm looking forward to our crazy adventures: pronouncing things badly in elementary Thai, trying not to get ripped off despite being obvious tourists, finding out why Tallulah wrote "SEXY DOLPHINS" on our itinerary last Saturday, travelling on sleeper trains in South East Asia, learning to cook in Thailand, fighting off killer wallabies in the outback, being made fun of when I drop Latin phrases into conversation (ad hoc is already being used against me as regards sightseeing) and standing under the Sydney Harbour Bridge, knowing that we've made it.

Here's our basic route:

LONDON - BANGKOK (overland to) SINGAPORE - SYDNEY - ALICE SPRINGS (tour in campervan) - MELBOURNE - HONG KONG - LONDON

To anyone who has done a similar trip or has visited any of these places: we would be grateful for your recommendations!

New Adventures

It's so easy to forget that travel doesn't come with a rule book. Handbooks abound; there is a wealth of great advice and useful tips from seasoned travellers and on occasion it certainly seems like there is an ironically well-trodden route to independent travel.

Three years ago I was struggling on one of my travel adventures, in increasing pain and no longer able to seize my opportunities as I would wish. I struggled as much with the fear of failure accompanying a capitulation to the counterintuitive necessity of giving up. Watching my own body disintegrate into a mass of inflammation and acute pain, I responded to the internal voice that had been pleading for nearly two weeks: come home.

My relief upon the return to the familiar comforts of my home was shortlived. I felt that I had been summoned home to a greater, harder adventure: hanging on through the extreme pains that come with a serious flareup of an autoimmune disease and finding my way through the daunting tangle of multiple bureaucracies that confront the chronically ill in this most vulnerable episode.

For one afflicted with a permanent case of itchy feet, being stuck in one chair for months at a time is torturous, but one of my coping mechanisms was a healthy dose of travel-brochure escapism. I dreamed of far-flung destinations, but a highly-supported short break to a coastal destination less than one hundred miles away was just as exciting. After a relaxing European getaway, and the confidence that the worst of my pain was somewhat under control, I felt ready to attempt an independent trip last November, where I enjoyed great support from airport workers who are becoming rather used to seeing me these days.

First trips are often something of a steep learning curve, and I overdid it a bit so that I experienced a bit of a flareup upon my return. Nevertheless I was determined to work out a safe middle ground, and after a successful trip this year I look forward to better travel management on my part.

With my specific mobility problems, I feel blessed in the "negotiable" nature of my ailments; fatigue management is the major concern, so there are many activities that are not entirely out of the question, leaving options open to me that may not be suitable for some wheelchair users, for example. However, the pain factor takes some trial and error, and the errors are terrifying!

I remain a bit apprehensive about what my future travels have in store for me - and whether my health will ever allow me to do some of the more adventurous things that appeal now but would have terrified me when I was younger - but it's also a new adventure, an opportunity to do things that seemed impossible and unattainable only two years ago.

So I strike forth, conscious that the decisions I make at this stage determine the success of the trip, and even whether I come home in a reasonable healthy state. I cannot follow the independent traveller footpath on this occasion. "Rustic" facilities are out of the question, and even the local terrain and its crowds receive careful consideration before major decisions are made. I can't afford the flexibility that I would, in other circumstances, relish. Climate is a greater issue than before, and while I have never enjoyed humidity personally, my body seems to relish it. I must find a new way to travel, grasping at opportunities and pragmatically rejecting fun activities that are not in my best interest.

From this side of the pharmacy, every travel experience will be new: scarier, less predictable and wholly unknown, but also exciting. I look forward to the journey.