Koh Lanta: Getting There

After nearly 20 weary hours on 5 different modes of transport, we made it to the car ferry from the Krabi mainland to Koh Lanta.

Unfortunately, the snail's pace of the ship was difficult to endure after the endless journey from Bangkok.

At least there was plenty to see from the vans' windshield...

 

 

Finally we arrived at Bamboo Bay and ate a thoroughly satisfying meal!

 Papaya Salad.

Vegetarian Pud Thai

Fresh Barracuda

An Evening in Bangkok

Green Mango Salad

Yam Paldook Foo (crispy catfish with green mango salad)

River Taxi Along the Saen Saeb Canal

Slices of fresh mango and sweet, sticky rice on KSR

Streetside Pad Thai on KSR

An Afternoon in Bangkok

The streets of Silom: quiet in the day, a veritable Gomorrah when the night settles.

Streetside chicken and mushroom curry

Streetside fish curry

Tuk-Tuk

 

 

 

 

The Jim Thompson House: the original Thai silk magnate and his expansive, teak-wood complex.

Along the Saen Saeb Khlong.

The Streets of Saigon

A fantastic exercise in time-lapse photography with our swollen metropolis as subject and muse.

Traffic in Frenetic HCMC, Vietnam from Rob Whitworth on Vimeo.

My Birthday Surprise

I have been feeling a bit stifled.  We live in a city where you NEED two wheels to get from point A to point B.  There is some public transportation in the form of massive green buses, but they are weathered, cramped and sticky.  Without Gavin shuttling me around, my only other options are traditional car taxis or a xe om (motorbike taxi).  These are perfectly viable options when you have a final destination in the form of a concrete address to show your driver, but not so great for exploring.  Two months ago, I realized what I missed most about Istanbul was the freedom of movement provided by good pedestrian paths and reasonable public transport.  Thus, an idea started to slowly hatch.

Gavin tried to teach me how to drive his motorbike a few times, but unfortunately our last lesson concluded with me toppling over into a healthy potted plant.  The bikes here are just too big and cumbersome for me to get comfortable on. 

In Vietnam, there are "strict" laws on who can operate a motorbike.  You must be 18 years of age, have at least one eye, possess a drivers' license, and wear a helmet when you straddle an engine.  Most of the children and inveterate senior citizens opt for the traditional bicycle.  The landscape is uniformly flat and the obvious applies - bikes are cheap, healthy, eco-friendly, and easy to steal.  Alas, I'm not a big fan of daily exercise and cold vanity disallows me from showing up to work dripping sweat.  Woe was me...until from out of the blue, enters The Electric Bike.  Thanks to legal loopholes, anyone can drive sans license, even though you can reach speeds of 50 KPH!  So, like Todd Shaw so eloquently put it - you gotta get in where you fit in.

Ever since our trip to Vung Tau, where all of the cool teens whiz by on e-bikes, I have been inexorably begging for one.  As those close to me know, I can be very persuasive.  Every time I am on the road and I see an e-bike in the distance, Gavin gets a sharp pinch to the gut as I exclaim "There's one!".  After repeating this action about a hundred times I found myself in a bike shop.

After perusing several of the shops on Vo Thi Sau, we ended up at Xe Dap 152 (148B Vo Thi Sau). I picked out the one I wanted, then I had a shaky test drive.  Let's just say it ended with Gavin expressing severe reluctance to have me free on the streets.

But long discussions ensued and eventually I persevered. Today, Gavin and I picked up my very own sleek, charcoal black e-bike.  I now have the means to get me (and whoever wants to hop on back) wherever I want to go, whenever I want to go.

Headline: Shitty Sting Song from the Nineties Quoted on Random Blog: “I’m a legal alien, I’m a legal alien…I’m an [American] in [Istanbul].”

• We obtained our residency permits after a harrowing experience at the Emniyet (Turkish version of the DMV) so we are legal aliens for the next ten months. Our next bureaucratic-stepping-stone to avoiding death in Turkish prison is obtaining work permits. I expect another long day in a musty, cramped room.

• According to the scathing teacher evaluation recently delivered by my boss - I am experiencing a “complete disconnection” with my students. I don’t exactly know what that means but it sounds serious…maybe a mutiny is brewing. Looks like I may have to play guitar in the subway for change.

• Still working 23 hours a week and loving every minute of this gleeful existence…hate to be a braggart but this whole free time thing is dope. Per the above note, I probably won’t be as stoked when I’ve suddenly happened upon 24 hours of day of free time after I’m forced to abscond from English Time, sneaking away from a horde of banshees carrying burning torches, saliva dripping from their blood-thirsty jaws as they search for infidels, neophyte teachers, and other assorted wretches from the dregs of society. 

• Turkish buses are the bane of my existence. Most of my friends know I cream over public transportation and will rap ad nauseam about the benefits of transportation modes that most Americans find horrendous (SF Muni for example), but the buses here just plain suck. Cramped, moist, gut-wrenchingly jerky, expensive…I could list negative adjectives for pages. Stick to the ferries at all costs my visiting compatriots. Lucky for me bus trips are few and far between…