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On the Road Random Thoughts Thailand 2019 Vietnam

Rayong to Da Nang

The following is an abject lesson in travel.

The plan – travel from Rayong to Da Nang by bike, taxi, plane, and taxi. The timeframe – one day. Bish, bosh, bash, just like that.

Not so difficult? Except that…

This is Thailand

In the week before leaving, I’d had to show my face at Rayong Wittayakom school, where I’d worked as a teacher for the previous six months. This because I wanted to ensure I was paid the previous month’s salary.

At 37,000 ฿ ( ~=USD 1120), it’s a pittance by Western standards. But living monkishly, I’d been able to save around 500 USD / month. And, with Vietnam in my sights, I could hardly afford to be sniffing at it.

The byzantine Thai bureaucracy dictated that my Visa was kaput as soon as the school contract ended. That meant I had exactly one day between finishing my school duties, and evacuating Thailand.

This Is Me

I’d been in the same apartment for a couple of months, during which time I’d accrued belongings, both useful and otherwise. My ‘filing system’ was the floor, over which tumbled my worldly possessions.

After wrangling with Thais, a hopeless scenario at the best of times, I’d found a dirt-cheap ( 2300 ฿/month ) scooter for rental from Pattaya. However, I now had to return it before leaving.

I’d decided to go to Vietnam, rather than do a ‘Visa run’ across the border and back, or return to New Zealand.

I’d turned down two good job offers, one in Pattaya, and another in Phuket. Mostly because I didn’t want to face another 30-hour bus trip , or deal with the Thai education ‘system’.

All of which resulted in last-minute packing decisions, money-changing, changing travel plans, insurance cashing, and general chaos.

The result? Early on the morning of November 1, 2019, I loaded more than 30kgs worth of possessions onto a 150cc scooter, ready to ride from Rayong to Pattaya, a trip of about 65 km.

A Tranquilised Mule

On first mounting the scooter, it slowly keeled over ,like a tranquilised mule. This of course was just cream on the cake for the hotel staff watching the entire pantomime from the front checkout.

A couple of them did come over to help right the beast, and I was shortly back on board.

I wobbled around the carpark a few times as a warm-up, and then set off on the Long Run to Pattaya. The suburbs of Rayong present their own challenge, because Thai motorists treat road rules as advisories. Much like “do not exceed the recommended dose”.

Half an hour and a couple of stops later, I was on the main road to Pattaya. These are mainly concrete, and so are slippery. An abrupt change of direction would result in a slide much more unhealthy than your average amusement park.

Stay Calm, Focus, Execute

So it became a question of sustaining concentration. I’m a small overloaded blip travelling slower than almost anything else.

This is the first leg of the journey, Rayong to Pattaya. The next is Pattaya to Bangkok via taxi. The third is the flight from Bangkok to Da Nang, Vietnam. And the last is the taxi ride to my pre-booked hotel from Da Nang airport.

It’s a game of dominoes. If one fails to fall, none of the rest of them fall into place either.

I streamed the mantra “stay calm, focus, execute”, to distract myself from thinking about consequences of an accident.

Panic in Pattaya

Once I made it to Pattaya, there was an additional hurdle. I was there to return the rental scooter. But the directions given by the scooter owner were sketchy at best.

“Find the 7-11 on the corner of Sukhimwit Road. I’m in the third shop from the corner, it’s behind the cafe …”

Ragged from the concentration of the trip, I darted hither and yon, hauling in my wake a suitcase, a laptop briefcase, and a shoulder bag. Up against the clock of my flight departure, another 20 minutes ticked by before I found said scooter owner.

With the handover out of the way, and nothing said about the additional dents, it was time to find the taxi for the second leg, Pattaya to Suvarnabhumi airport, Bangkok.

Easy? But no. With the usual Thai efficiency, the driver I’d been chatting to for three days to drive home the deadlines was otherwise engaged. After another 20 minutes of pacing inside an air-conditioned 7-11, I had a driver.

As it happened, about an hour, and 1100 ฿ later, the airport hove into view.

Gate A

The attendant told me he plane was leaving at “Gate A”. Minutes later, it dawned on me that the gates were numbered, not lettered. While other passengers glided around with their small trolleys behind them, I hobbled along like a small mule with a limp. Then, six months of teaching Thais came to the rescue.

Thais often drop the final consonant of English words. ‘Gate A’ was ‘Gate 8’.

With the target finally settled, I found the flight board, and discovered that the flight was boarding 15 minutes ago

Fark! All this way, all that palaver, and here I am stumbling at the second hurdle. I picked myself up and started sprinting. It didn’t look good, but it was effective. Soon I caught the remnants of the check-in line.

A short sauna bus ride, and 30 minutes’ of looking at the flight attendants later, and we were airborne.

Da Nang

I’d organised online a Vietnam Visa for about USD 100 for 3 months. So I was surprised and delighted when I was snapped and stamped and waved through in about 10 minutes.

It was around 6pm, and I was in ‘Nam.

On the advice of someone who knew these things, I’d arrived with a wad-full of US dollars. The advice was good, and I got instant co-operation from taxi drivers.

The short taxi ride gave me a taste of the beauty of Da Nang. It’s a much more modern city than Rayong – bridges lighting up like stairways, wide roads, modern architecture.

I found that US dollars got instant co-operation from apartment managers , too.

I’d skimped on the apartment. It was something like $12 ( 300,000 VND ) / night , and I got what I paid for. But at this stage, I didn’t care.

I’d made it. I unpacked a few things, and collapsed on my bed.

school
– long-term teacher doesn’t talk to anyone
– fat thai teacher with a mental age of 10

Categories
Australia Cairns On the Road

Day-trip

A mental health day(-trip) was in order, and so it was that I set out in a rental car for parts further north.

I discovered that either Australians are the slowest drivers in the world,or that Mr. Google thinks they are. Or that the Aussie govt wants us to think they are.

When I told her I was bound for Cape Tribulation, 140 km north of Cairns, the rental car company rep hemmed and hawed. Google predicts a 2h37m drive. I nodded appropriately as she advised a more sedate approach.

But the roads are ( mostly ) flat and straight, and there are no trucker convoys and suchlike.

Palm Cove - beware beasties
Palm Cove – beware beasties

I also discovered that some Far North Queenslanders – myself among them – enjoy a dip without becoming crocodile lunch.

Palm Cove, about 40 km north of cairns, warns swimmers about jellyfish. But no mention of crocs.

With lifeguards on duty, and swimming flags, and three people in the water at 11 a.m, the temptation was too much, and I hove in.

“Crocodiles? – they’re like mermaids. They don’t really exist,” said one swimmer.

Rex Lookout

.

Port Douglas

Is a small beach ( and tourist ) community. Wikipedia gives its population at 3,500 . but that has to be wildly off the mark.

It’s pretty much self-contained, with a main centre not much smaller than Whangarei. Lots of cafes, a car rental , tourist shops, and accommodation aplenty. With a patrolled and flagged beach, it’s ideal for swimming. Accommodation prices permitting, I’d stay here in future.

Daintree

Is little more than a couple of shops, some camping grounds, and river ferries for tourists. I resisted the temptation. Apparently the local delicacy is …. crocodile.

I ventured a little further North, but the roads were starting to look too much like tracks, and with time and rental car bonds in mind, I headed back south.

I got as far south-west as Mareeba. At more than 400 metres above sea level, this area is desert-like, with cooler temperatures.

Then due East, back toward Cairns, around the edges of the Karunda State Forest, where the roads are winding, and it is almost cold. Almost.

I arrived home in one piece, congratulating myself on avoiding the tourist traps, choosing instead to spend the day driving when and where I wanted. Volume up, windows down.

Having travelled 285 km over six hours, it served as a good dress-rehearsal for the bigger road-trip ahead.