Post 305: Ayutthaya ... ancient capital of Siam

Having laughed at the unique Ayutthaya tuk-tuks, I turned the corner and found myself facing an evil temptation. “Ayutthaya Riverside Hotel - Rooms 600 THB”. That’s £12 for one night, double what I’d like to pay. But, it was right there in front of me and probably had a bath in every room. I haven’t had a bath for longer than I can remember and sometimes, it’s the little things that I miss the most. In reception it all seemed very familiar. If it wasn’t for the famous Thai smiles, then I’d swear that I was back in an old Soviet Hotel in Siberia. I asked the receptionist for her cheapest room and she offered me a River Room for 1,250 THB including breakfast. I didn’t want breakfast and I’ve seen the Chao Phraya River before, so now give me your cheapest room. She asked if I’d be staying alone. I could see my reflection in the giant mirror behind her and wondered if she really needed an answer from me. Eventually we reached a satisfactory compromise. I’d move my bike if she’d cut the bullshit and give me what I wanted. As I followed the uninterested hall porter towards room 312, I reflected that this must once have been a great hotel, but unfortunately ’once’ was clearly quite some time ago. The room smelled even older than it looked, but at least it had a bathroom with a perfectly functional bath. I held up a bathtowel the size of my arse and raised an eyebrow to the still uninterested hall porter. He just shrugged his sunken shoulders and left without a ’tip’. For the first time in three long months, I settled down to soak in a bathtub filled with piping hot water and every bottle of shower gel that I’d managed to lift from the room-maids trolley. Not quite heaven on earth, but after too many miles on too small a bike, it was pretty damned close.

For around 400 years, Ayutthaya was the capital of Siam and as such was one of the most prosperous centres in Southeast Asia. The city itself is little more than an island created at the junction of the Chao Phraya and Pasak Rivers. It’s location was probably chosen because of its defensive position but in 1767, Ayutthaya’s defences were breached by invading Burmese forces and the city all but destroyed. Since 1991, the city has been a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Situated just forty miles North of Bangkok, Ayutthaya is one of Thailand’s most popular tourist attractions and has somehow managed to divorce the culture from the crude. I’m sure that the ‘crude’ exists here, but at least it’s in the back-streets and not your face .... mai pen rai

Wat Chaiwatthanaram is located to the West of Ayutthaya on the opposite bank of the Chao Phraya River. I accidentally found this place on my way towards Chai Nat in 2008. I remember sitting here with a group of Thai's watching an amazing sunset in silence. Today it’s quite early in the morning and apart from a couple of gardeners, I seem to be the only person here. I wander around the ruins and climb the steps of the main tower, the ‘Prang Prathan‘. Around the outer wall, the smaller statues of Buddha all have their heads removed, a reminder not only of the violence of four hundred years ago, but also of more recent acts of theft and vandalism. While work has been undertaken to prevent the entire structure from collapsing, visually things have been left as they were found and I really like that approach to conservation.

I know that I've been here before, but even so, it all seems much more familiar than it ought to. As I ride away from Wat Chaiwatthanaram it suddenly dawns on me that I have been here before. Not just in 2008, but twenty years before that on my first visit to Thailand. Back then the whole area had been overgrown with shrub and only the main towers had been visible from the road. I remember scrambling through undergrowth, climbing the crumbling walls to find hidden statues of Buddha and wondering why on earth this place wasn't a major tourist attraction. In 2008 I hadn't recognised it, but thinking back, twenty years ago I'd probably stayed in the same bloody hotel on the banks of the Chao Phraya River .... mai pen rai

A few kilometres North of Wat Chaiwatthanaram is Wat Phutthaisawan, a much smaller monastery that’s also deserted. Not a single person, not even an attendant to guard the entrance. I walk inside the grounds and it’s access all areas. This complex seems to be unkempt, slightly wild and overgrown. To the rear of the complex is a large white Prang, the Khmer influenced rounded top tower and a few Chedi, the smaller more pointy towers. I know absolutely nothing about this place and there are no signs, in any language, to help me. The only sign of human contact are the drapes, candles and flowers that are placed across the hidden reclining statue of Buddha. The statue is surrounded by a crumbling wall and while it seems to be the centre-piece of the complex, I suspect that most visitors don’t even know that it’s here. Having said that, I somehow doubt that this place has too many visitors, it just doesn’t look the type ….. mai pen rai

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Post 304: Road to Ayutthaya ....

The post Songkran rains had stopped and it was time to start moving again. I was heading for Ayutthaya, the ancient capital of Siam. According to my map, Ayutthaya is just two hundred kilometres East, but a less interesting two hundred kilometres would be difficult to imagine. Bored with everything that the highway didn’t have to offer, I decided to leave the main roads behind and head out across country. That probably wasn’t the wisest decision of my life. The journey became far more interesting, but mostly on account of the three consecutive punctures. Fortunately in Thailand, you’re never too far from a tyre repair shop and even in the back-end-of-beyond, I didn’t have to ride any more than a few kilometres on a flat.

The first repair reveals that absence of a rim tape to protect the inner tube from the sharp end of the spokes, just a single layer of insulation tape. The young mechanic chats away excitedly in Thai as he goes about his business and I try to nod and smile in all of the right places. Thirty minutes later and the little Honda is good to go. New rim tape, two patches on the tube and 2 Litres of petrol from the Hong Thong and 100 Pipers whiskey bottles on his fuel rack. Total price, 100 Baht (£1) ….. mai pen rai

I decide to move back onto the Highway and within a few kilometres, I come across one of the weirdest places that I’ve found on the journey so far. Just outside of Sarraburi, I pass the entrance to what I think is a vast temple complex. I have no option but to explore, it’s part of my contract with life. It seems not to be a temple, but more of a deserted adventure park. It’s difficult to tell really. There are plenty of signs, but all are written in Mandarin and Thai. Dyslexia might help me to unravel anagrams, but it certainly doesn’t help here. The photograph shows an ’attraction’ close to the entrance. You climb into the concrete Tiger’s mouth, exit through it’s anus and then climb to the comedy Buddha at the top. Hilarious ….. mai pen rai

It’s taken me seven hours to cover the two hundred kilometres to Ayutthaya. Three punctures and endless police roadblocks didn’t help, but perhaps the main reason that it’s taken me so long is the fact that I’ve somehow ridden more than three hundred kilometres to get here. I’m hot, sunburnt and dehydrated, but as I ride into Ayutthaya in search of a cheap hotel, all of the punctures and kilometres are forgotten. In front of the railway station I see a line of Ayutthaya’s unique style of taxis. I’ve arrived in Toy Town and it’s hard not to smile ….. mai pen rai

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Post 303: After Songkran .....

The Songkran Festival marks the end of the dry season in Thailand and this morning, sure enough, it’s bloody raining. None of your British drizzle, this is a full-on monsoon and the first rain that I‘ve seen since arriving. It makes a welcome change from the blistering heat and despite the flooding of roads and residences, everybody just seems to go about their day as normal. The only real downside to the rain is my camera. It survived the many drenchings that is received over Songkran but has been temporarily defeated by the rain. It will dry out eventually and at least the photographs already taken are safe ….. mai pen rai

I’ve suffered from tonsillitis and glandular fever before, admittedly when I was much younger, but at least I knew exactly what to expect. You begin by feeling crap, then the tonsils begin to swell and the throat eventually closes. This is closely followed by swelling of the more southerly organs but I knew that the antibiotics would solve the problem and that within a few days, normal service will be resumed. What I’d forgotten about was the fatigue that follows. Maybe it’s just that I’m a lot older now, but even dragging my arse out of bed in a morning seems difficult. As a result, I’ve spent the past couple of days mooching around and catching far too much of the BBC World News.

It’s not difficult to see that an election is looming back home. Concerned for the welfare of UK Citizens abroad, Gordon Brown is apparently deploying the Royal Navy to rescue holidaymakers stranded in the South of Spain. Holidaymakers stranded in the South of Spain where they went in order to temporarily escape from jobs that they probably hate. I’m sorry, but I’m not really feeling their pain. Then, Gordon Brown is seemingly overcome with anger at the actions of Goldman Sachs. Goldman Sachs apparently sold a shed load of CDO’s to one group of customers and negative Hedging Contracts to others. I know that he’s partially sighted but what I didn’t know was that he also had a restricted sense of smell and short-term memory loss. While he was encouraging ‘Light Touch Regulation’ and busy counting the abundant tax revenues coming into the Treasury from his "Favourite Bank", the coffee had been wafting beneath his nose but he’d chosen not to smell it. Are we to believe that Goldman Sachs were the only Investment Bank with their noses in these two particular troughs? No. But the Government don't own any part of Goldman Sachs and they're hardly likely to take themselves to court are they? The man protests too much me thinks …. mai pen rai

Bored with Brown’s false anger and concern, I’ve now switched to following the news on Thai TV. Most of the coverage concerns the Red Shirt demonstrations in Bangkok. With hours of coverage and disjointed Thai commentary, I haven’t got a clue what’s really happening. To me, it’s just fun playing the most difficult game of "Where’s Wally" that you could possibly imagine …. mai pen rai

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Post 302: Songkran .... Continuing Chaos

At the end of the Canal Road, the convoy turns down a dusty track and enters a small village. A wall of speakers blasts out distorted tunes and every person in the village is dancing with their arms held high. A voice breaks through the music and the would-be-but-never-quite-was DJ, with the gold laden neck and strategic comb-over, announces the arrival of a Farang. Thanks for that, I really need the extra attention ….. mai pen rai

I’m immediately adopted by the only guy who speaks more than five words of English, probably the DJ’s brother. He leads me around the village introducing me to everybody as his long lost friend from America. I keep telling him ’England’, but that doesn’t seem to matter. I must go to the Temple, I must see their prized possession, "ma-hat-sa-jan Kai". I must be confused, because I think that means ’Astonishing Egg’. I’m guided to the upper floor of the Temple where it’s thankfully cool, dark and quiet. The monk sits cross legged on the small platform and I kneel in front of him. He blesses me and then vanishes through a door at the back of his stage. Minutes later, he emerges with their most treasured possession … "ma-hat-sa-jan kai". Unless I’m very much mistaken, it’s an ostrich egg sitting in a ceramic bowl …. mai pen rai.

Having duly shown my amazement at the sight of the astonishing egg that they truly believe was laid by some strange and mystical creature, I’m taken outside and thrown to the ladies of the village. They show me no mercy and I’m forced to dance in an enclosure with some sort of Maypole at it’s centre. I am clueless as to what is actually happening but I go with the flow and get down with the Mamma’s beneath the blistering sun …. mai pen rai

An hour later, possibly two but certainly no more than three, I’m on the back of yet another truck and returning to the City. The mayhem continues and the novelty of being drenched in water and talcum powder is beginning to wear off. I want my bed, I want to be alone and quiet for just an hour. I want to have a conversation in English and eat a meal that I can fully identify. Like the policemen who are tasked with keeping order amongst this chaos, I just want to return to normality …. mai pen rai

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Post 301: Songkran ..... the Reality

Normality has been temporarily suspended. It’s the festival of Songkran and Thailand has gone collectively bonkers. It’s just after 9:00am and looking down from my balcony, I can see that the festivities are already underway. I didn’t even need to look outside for confirmation. The sound from the banks of speakers stacked high in front of every house and shop along the Soi has been ‘Banging’ for at least an hour. Thai music, too much treble and too loud for the ancient speakers, but the only acceptable volume level is ‘Full’. From my reasonably priced vantage point I can see approximately 100 metres of mixed residential and commercial street and count at least forty 50 gallon water containers at the side of the road. Each full container is manned by a small army of people ranging from Kids to Grandparents. All traffic and pedestrians are legitimate targets and most targets are armed and ready to return fire. It’s Thursday 15th of April and this is the third consecutive day of non-stop partying. Don‘t these people ever get tired?

To become fully involved in the festivities of Songkran, there are several essential ingredients. Firstly, you need to acquire a ‘Songkran Shirt’, the louder the better. Secondly, you need water. Lots of water and something with which to dispense it. Most seem to go for the traditional bucket but super-squirting-water-guns are also very popular. The more technically able locals use immersion pumps to ensure a greater range of fire, but in my mind that’s just showing off. Once armed and dressed accordingly, you then need a large quantity of talcum powder mixed with mentholated oil so that it sticks well to it’s target. Then, find a plastic bag for your money and camera and your ready to go and find yourself a ride.

I tried circling on the Honda, but on a bike it’s just an unfair contest. The best option is just to jump aboard a pick-up truck. Any pick-up truck will do, you don’t need to know the people but if there are less than twenty others already clinging to its back, then there’s always room for one more. As the only Farang in these parts, I’m spoiled for choice. The Farang gets all of the attention and thus gains respect for the others on the truck. I end up jumping from pavement to truck, to pavement to different truck and eventually find myself heading slowly out of town in a stream of traffic …. mai pen rai

We seem to be in a convoy, but I’m not sure if anybody knows where it will take us. Behind my ride is another pick-up truck. They’ve identified the Farang and try to make me feel welcome by playing their only Western tune over and over again through a loud speaker mounted in the rear. Rihanna bless them … ‘’you can stand under my umbrella .. ella ella eh eh eh eh’’ …. give it a rest. Collectively they want me to join their group. The two girls in the front want to take me home to meet their parents while the third girl in the back is slightly less reserved about her intentions. I fear that alcohol might have lowered there levels of taste and expectations but once again, that’s not a complaint, just an observation … mai pen rai

In the middle of absolutely nowhere, we crawl along a dead straight road. At the side of the road, high powered pumps lift water from the canal and replenish the 50 gallon water drums on each and every vehicle. My personal progress is slower than most, I can’t move more than a meter without being showered with water and plastered in mentholated talcum powder. Some of the younger revellers speak a little English, they ask me very politely if they might possibly shower me with water and coat me in powder. The others, well, they just do it anyway …. mai pen rai

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Post 300: Songkran .... the Traditional

Just like in the West, the calendar year in Thailand begins on the 1st of January, but New Year is really celebrated in style at the end of the dry season from the 13th to the 15th of April. That might sound a little confusing, and the fact that it’s now the year 2553 here in Thailand doesn’t really help. So, just ignore the dates and remember that Thai’s love to celebrate everything .. mai pen rai

The ‘Songkran Festival’ really began in Northern Thailand when people took the remainder of their precious water supplies and used them to cleanse the images of Buddha in their local temples. In doing so, they believed that they would wash away the bad things from the previous year and bring good luck and prosperity for the next. After cleansing the images of Buddha, they would then ritually anoint the hands and feet of family elders before taking handfuls of dirt to the temples in order to replace that which had been taken away on the soles of their feet. The earth redelivered to the temples is then built up into towers, the higher and bigger the tower, the more important the temple is seen to be in the lives of it‘s congregation.

All of these traditional things still happen today and I’ve been fortunate enough to be involved in all of them, but it’s as difficult to separate Songkran from the partying as it is to separate Christmas from the presents. So I wont even try. I’ll leave Wikipedia to explain the cultural history and I’ll concentrate on immersing myself in the more frivolous elements of Songkran ….. mai pen rai

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Post 299: Ubonrat .. Moving On

The burning Asian sun had done it’s job well, and the Englishman in me had certainly done nothing to thwart it. No sun-block and too little water, not a good combination for six hours of riding in an open face helmet, flip-flops, tee shirt and shorts. One day I’ll learn the lesson, but until that day arrives, I guess I’ll just remain terribly English …. mai pen rai

The hotel was easy to find, I’ve stayed there before. Good air conditioning and a roof-top swimming pool to wash away the day. The hotel seemed very quiet and they were happy to see me, or more importantly, they were happy to see my money. They didn’t like where I’d parked the Honda and I was in no mood to argue. I took the key and went up to my room while the Honda stayed exactly where I’d left it. The room smelt of better days, the air conditioning sounded like the little Honda on full throttle and the swimming pool was a deep shade of green. Either my mood on previous visits had prevented me from noticing these things, or perhaps Khon Kaen just beginning to lose it’s gloss for me?

The air conditioning might well have been loud, but it was certainly effective. I woke up at sunrise on top of the bed, freezing cold but drenched in sweat. I found the little Honda exactly where I’d parked it and before Khon Kaen had even thought about rising, I was heading North on Highway 2. Lying 40 Km outside of Khon Kaen, Ubonrat is one of my three very special places. It’s not as beautiful as Lake Dahl in Kashmir and not as tranquil as Lake Baikal in Siberia, but on the plus side, it’s a hell of a lot easier to reach.

Aside from a few mobile food vendors claiming their pitches early, and the odd wild dog, the place was totally deserted. I walked across the dam and climbed the steep rock steps towards the small shrine on the west side of the reservoir. As I climbed, I passed the small rock pile that I’d built with Tassaneeya a year earlier and the sticks that we’d placed beneath rocks on the side of the hill. I was surprised to see that they were still there and wondered if they'd still be here if I were ever to return in the future.

At the small shrine, I lit a single candle and three incense sticks before offering a prayer for Tassaneeya's future well being and happiness. It wasn't a long prayer, but I said everything that needed to be said before offering my final three 'Waai' and shuffling respectfully backwards on my knees. Looking back across the reservoir towards the imposing statue of Buddha, I reflected on what was and on what might have been. The many happy times that we’d shared and then the fateful conversation that I’d had with her late Grandfather in the Village without a name, a conversation later repeated with a 'well meaning' Aunt at Phu Pha Man. "Cultural differences" had forced us apart, or as Tassaneeya would say, "It was our Destiny". It was time to move on, time to leave the past and a pink flowered Spada crash helmet, exactly where they belonged ........ mai pen rai

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Post 298: The Road to Khon Kaen .....

It was time to move on and begin the next leg of this exceptionally disjointed journey. I had the bike, the luggage was packed and I had a few farewells to say before heading North for Khon Kaen. It never crossed my mind to stop, and thankfully it never crossed the guards minds to shoot me. Probably too much red-tape and paperwork. I was riding my new pride and joy, the Honda Wave and hadn’t even thought about the lack of a distinctive security badge that was necessary for entry onto Fort Suranaree. I’m not even sure if the guards carry live ammunition, but I do know that those carrying the guns all seem to wear fluorescent orange jackets. Maybe it’s a simple Health & Safety regulation so that prospective attackers can avoid shooting unarmed men? … mai pen rai

I’d spent much of the previous day trying to find a luggage rack to fit the Honda, but without success. It seems that despite there being millions of these bikes here in Thailand, nobody has ever requested a luggage rack for one. The shops asked me why I’d want such a thing and my reply was that I wanted to carry luggage, or more specifically, my topbox. They then asked why I would want to do that and I told them that I was heading out of town. They found it difficult to understand why anybody would want to ride a bike to the next city and beyond when there was a perfectly good bus service. In the end, I gave up trying to explain my weird ways and went in search of an engineering shop.

I found a small one-man operator who could attend to my strange request immediately. Together, we set about butchering and reforming a spare pillion hand rail that I’d bought for 50 Baht (£1) from a breakers shop. We had different ideas about how best to make and attach the rack. He wanted to mount the topbox on the front of the bike, but I pointed out that this would totally cover the headlight. He didn’t see the problem with that. Korat has street lighting, why did I need a headlight? It was 9am and as he was already totally pissed and I was surprisingly sober, I insisted that ‘My way’ was the ‘Only way’ and got on with it.

He was as much impressed with my engineering skills as I was with his range of tools, but we soldiered on. For two solid hours, we welded, grinded, hammered and drilled until finally I had a workable luggage rack that was strong enough to support the Krauser topbox. He stood back, opened another bottle of Leo Beer with his teeth and declared my new luggage rack to be the best thing since Taksin Shinawatra’s "BOGOF" deal on cows. Praise indeed from an Isaan engineer, even a pissed one. The total cost including labour was 200 Baht (£4) ….. mai pen rai

The day was as hot as the road was straight, long and boring. But, as I left the city behind me, the little Honda found a new turn of speed. 65 Km/h to be precise, which is around 40 mph. I was flying. It would go faster, but only under protest and if the little engine was suffering from the heat as much as I was, then 65 Km/h would do just fine. I was sticking to the “Shoulder” and in order to lessen the boredom, a few additional hazards had been provided. A recent outbreak of collective pyromania meant that Thai’s were setting fire to anything that would possibly burn. It had started with the Honda C70 at the petrol station back in Surin and now it had spread to the side of the road. They burn off the old rice fields before the start of the rainy season at the end of April, but the ’Burns’ are not what one could possibly described as ’Controlled’. It’s much more a case of start a fire, piss-off to the pub and deny all knowledge when it gets out of control.

At 65 Km/h on a deadly straight road, the mind starts to wander. But, not half as much as the minds of those employed to paint the road lines. For a stretch of around 20 miles, every few hundred yards the white line begins to resemble a measure of Charlie before being straightened with an Amex card. At first I think it’s the heat haze in the distance making the line look wavy, or the effects of the burning sun and boredom, but it’s not. Either the painter was pissed or asleep, possibly both, but nobody ever thought about coming back to correct his work and that’s just another thing that I find likeable about Thailand …. mai pen rai

Finally, after six hours beneath the blazing sun, and just three hours later than planned, I’ve finally reach Khon Kaen. I could blame the road conditions or the slowness of the bike for the length of time that it’s taken me to get here, but the truth of the matter is, I’m not sure that I really wanted to arrive here at all. Khon Kaen is where this Asian journey really began and I’m coming here again, under circumstances that I’d never anticipated. This is the completion of another full circle, the ending of the most surreal chapter in my life so far .... mai pen rai

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Post 297: Finding a Bike in Thailand ....

The girl behind the counter at "Quik Klean" looked a little concerned. I tried to put her mind at rest. I reassured her that it wasn’t my own blood on the shorts and shirt. That didn’t seem to work. I think she was probably more worried about who my next victim would be rather than who the last one was. It took two days instead of the promised one, but still the bike accident girls blood covered 50% of my total clothing allocation. So, neither "Quik" nor "Klean", but at least they were cheap and she hadn’t tipped off the police.

I was out looking for a bike, and there were lots to choose from. The problem with being a ‘Farang’ is that everyone automatically assumes that you’re loaded with money. As you enter a showroom, they immediately direct you to the finer examples at the front of the shop when what I really want will probably be hidden under a tarpaulin at the rear. I first found a nice clean looking Honda Wave 125, all red and shiny. I started it up and took it for a little spin around the block. It took a little longer than anticipated. Beneath it’s shiny new plastic frock, it clearly wasn’t a Honda Wave 125. It was really an old Honda Dream, a Bangkok Rolex waiting for some unsuspecting mug to walk in with lots of money and little idea. That’s wrong, it was less than £200, but for that money, I’d want a genuine Honda Wave 125.... mai pen rai

After several wild goose chases, I eventually tracked down the bike that I really wanted. The Honda Sonic 125 with larger wheels and off-road rims and tyres. On this little beauty, I could be the coolest guy in Thailand. On second thoughts no, I’d still look terribly English and totally out of place. I negotiated the price but the middle ground was still too much of a schlep for my wallet. I walked away with a slight feeling of regret … mai pen rai

At the Yamaha dealership, things got even more surreal. They directed me to a Yamaha Mio 125, with Nitro injection and a price tag of around 20,000, Dollars not Baht. I walked away from that one without any regrets but it’s shame they didn’t allow test rides .. mai pen rai

Then, I got a telephone call from a dealer who had rented me a Honda Click, he had a Honda Wave 100 for sale, just within my price range. I went along to see it. Shiny outside covering a few basic sins, but it would do. 25cc less than I would have liked, but at a price that was difficult to refuse. I handed over the money, some confusing paperwork was signed and I believe, that I now own this Honda Wave 100 S ….. mai pen rai

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Post 296: Buying a Bike in Thailand ...

Even at the end of January, the plan was really still quite simple. On the 10th of February I’d fly to Thailand and meet Tassaneeya in Khon Kaen. On the 14th of February we’d throw a big party for friends and family and then head off to Hanoi in Vietnam. In Hanoi, we’d buy a little Minsk motorbike and then set off riding in a leisurely circle until we finally arrived back in Hanoi via Cambodia, Thailand and Laos. We’d then sell the Minsk, return to Thailand and fly back to England for the summer. Unfortunately things didn’t turn out as expected and while there was indeed a big party in Khon Kaen on the 14th of February, it wasn’t my name on the invitations … mai pen rai

The timing wasn't ideal, but then I can hardly blame Tassaneeya. Lets face it, putting up with me for the past 18 months hasn't been easy and the prospect of covering 20,000Km on the back of a Minsk, well, it's not every girls dream. We remain good friends and I wish her every happiness for the future ... life goes on.

So, several days before departure, my plans had to change and the new plan was quite simple. Don’t have one. I arrived in Thailand on 10th February and headed down to the beautiful island of Koh Chang and then back up to Sattahip with new found friends. From Sattahip, I moved on with more new friends and arrived in Nakhom Ratchasima. It’s Thailand’s second largest city, but in all of the time that I’ve been based here, I’ve seen no more than four or five fellow Europeans, and that‘s just the way I like it. I didn’t intend to stay here for this long, but I found an Apartment Hotel for just under seventy pounds a month (yes .. a month ) and it seemed like as good a place as any to relax and work out what to do next. Broken bones and burns aside, I’ve been borrowing and renting bikes and to be quite honest, it’s a pain in the arse constantly changing. It was time to bite the bullet, time to buy my own little bike in Thailand. After all, there are millions of them around, they’re cheap to buy and run, so just how difficult could it be? …… mai pen rai

I soon discovered that in order to register a vehicle, Thai people require an ID card plus a copy of their House Registration Document. Unfortunately it’s the same rules for Farang (Westerners). I need a 3-Month Non Immigration Visa in my passport and a letter from the local immigration office confirming my address here in Nakhom Ratchasima. Two hurdles and two instant failures. In Vientiane, I got a double entry 60 day visa, that with a little good management will allow me to stay in Thailand for 180 days. It is unfortunately not the 90 Day Non Immigration Visa that they require. Secondly, in order to rent the room for a month, they needed to keep my passport, but I needed my passport to go to Laos for the new visa. The problem was resolved by Aeg’s sister Aporn, renting the apartment in her name and thus leaving me in possession of my passport. The local immigration office didn’t see it quite that simply, so there’s no letter confirming my address in Thailand ….. mai pen rai

So, without jumping through a string of expensive and inconvenient hoops, I can’t legally buy a bike in Thailand . Next best option. I buy the bike, register it at Fort Suranaree and have the documents made-out in Aporn’s name. Aporn then writes me a legal note stating that I have full entitlement to ride the bike and if the need arises, to export it on a permanent basis. A beautiful solution to a bureaucratic problem. The only thing is, all of the documents are written in Thai. For all I know they could read "Arrest this man on sight" …… and I haven’t even touched on the selection of dodgy bikes yet …… mai pen rai

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