After three days in hectic Bangkok, Weronika and I were excited to trade the big city for smaller, less touristy villages. Our first destination was supposed to the floating market in Damnoen Saduak. However, after reading more and learning it was basically a tourist trap, we headed straight to Kanchanaburi.
Our accommodation was close to the old town, on a narrow dirt road next to the winding river. Walking along the nearby main street, I observed the regular suspects:
Thai massage parlours
Old white men with young Thai girls (professionals, presumably)
Lots of tour operators
Weronika and I agreed the top two things to do were the beautiful Erawan Waterfalls and the infamous Death Railway. While I was ready to sign up with a tour operator, Weronika insisted we see them ourselves using local transport. She continued to claim that despite the fact that I physically carry around a backpack, I’m not a “real” backpacker. Partaking in tourist packages, choosing direct flights instead of trains or buses and staying in fancy hotels isn’t the backpacker style, she explained. I grinned and couldn’t disagree with her, and was completely OK with that. Sometimes a package deal allows you to do/see more in a shorter amount of time (efficiency), and at my age, I enjoy certain comforts (although I do enjoy hostels but really need to have a private room).
I readily accepted her challenge and the day was great! We steadily trekked to the 7th tier of the waterfalls and jumped into the murky and fish-infested waters, some of which “attacked” Weronika. She screamed and exited the water as quickly as possible.
Although we stayed at the falls around the same amount of time as a tour would have stayed, the perception is very different; with the former, you stay as long as you want and never look at your watch. With the latter, you spend more time stressing about missing the bus than enjoying the moment. So it’s was a good choice to move at our own pace.
Despite the heavyhearted history of the railway, it didn’t exude any negative emotions. Further, there was a peace and love festival that weekend, with loud, festive music and dozens of street vendors selling souvenirs, so the mood was lighthearted. And a large pineapple smoothie by the river was a great place to watch the sunset.
One of the most anticipated regions during my sabbatical was Southeast Asia. It seemed so exotic compared to North America, and so far from home that you simply couldn’t travel there for just a couple of weeks. Despite my interest, I circled SE Asia without ever touching it (apparently people don’t consider Singapore to be part of SE Asia!). Well, before the sabbatical ends, I knew I had to see at least Thailand.
It wasn’t hard to convince Weronika to join me for a month, as she just finished selling her dance studio and was now completely mobile. She also desperately wanted to visit Thailand, and had almost done so last year. I’m happy she waited for me 🙂
They say the two best ways to reduce jet lag are:
At least a day before the trip, start living as though you’re already in the new timezone (this means eating and sleeping)
When you arrive, stay in daylight for as long as possible, to allow your internal clock to re-calibrate
Armed with these tips, I ate dinner right before boarding the 9.5h flight from Kiev to Bangkok, skipped the in-flight meal, and went straight to sleep. Luckily I was tired enough to sleep most of the way and arrived relatively refreshed. Weronika was not so lucky and barely slept, so she napped in the afternoon.
First impressions of Bangkok reminded me of a mix between a cleaner India and an island in the the Caribbean, but with Thai people of course. The city is quite spread out and difference in weather was intense: 35C and full sun and humidity, compared to 5C and full clouds in Poland.
Our accommodation was on one of the most famous streets, called Khaosan Road. The location came recommended because it was supposed to be tourist friendly, but it was much, much more than that. Street vendors were everywhere, constantly barraging you with offers to buy tailored suits, eat grilled scorpions, or drive you somewhere. You couldn’t walk the short distance from one end of the street to the other without at least 50 offers (disclaimer: I didn’t actually count offers).
At night, the street was barely walk-able; loud music blasted from every bar and club, throngs of party kids drank and danced in the streets. It was like a low budget Ibiza nightclub. Street vendors became even more pushy, offering Thai massages or laughing gas, or wanting to drive you to a ping pong show. Since I’m past these shenanigans, we ended up spending most of our evenings in the street just north of Khaosan road. It was still quite occupied, but much more chilled, with coloured outdoor lanterns, more relaxed live music, better restaurants and street food.
Speaking of massages, while Weronika napped on the first day, I indulged in a 60 minute Thai massage for 250 Bhat (that’s 10 CAD, or 6 EUR). I’ve never had a Thai massage before and it was quite different from the porn versions I’ve seen on the internet. First, she washed my feet, as in Thailand, feet are considered the dirtiest part of the body. She then provided some loose fitting clothes to change into and proceeded to use her entire body (hands, forearms, elbows, knees, and feet) to massage me. With all the pushing and pulling and stretching, it wasn’t relaxing at all, but I did feel thoroughly supple when she was done. No, it was not an erotic massage, so you can get those dirty thoughts right out of your head!
Speaking of cheap, street food is also very inexpensive but tasty. Good quality pad thai costs 50 Bhat (2 CAD/1.5 EUR). For the first few days, I ate it almost everyday, accompanied by some papaya green salad and occasionally some fresh vegetables. With the intense heat, I’ve also had to drink 2+ litres of water everyday, which means I should lose all those extra pounds gained from eating fatty Polish food in no time!
On our second day, Weronika and I toured the city by foot and visited the Grand Palace, with billions of brightly coloured, hand painted small stones glued to the walls and columns (disclaimer: I may not have actually counted the stones). Next were a few Buddhist temples to see a standing Buddha, a sitting Buddha and a sleeping Buddha.
By the way, beyond Khaosan Road, Thai people are very friendly and not pushy at all. Even the heavy armed security guards of the Grand Palace were quick to flash a genuine smile after scrutinizing the contents of our bags.
On the third day, we took the train north to Ayutthaya. It was a local train without air-conditioning, but cost only 30 Bhat (1.20 CAD, less than 1 EUR) for the 1.5 hour journey. Once there, we negotiated a scooter for the same price as two bicycles and drove round the historical park, admiring the ancient temples and parks. It was once the capital of Thailand and is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Since you’re probably wondering,
Yes, there are plenty of lady-boys in Bangkok. Some are really easy to identify (heavy make-up, fake breasts, manly hands or neck) while others are hard to know for certain. Weronika and I disagreed who was whom on several occasions.
No, we did not see a ping pong show. After researching and learning about all the ways tourists get scammed, we opted to not see it. Since we’ll return to Bangkok for the last night before the flight home, we might see it then, but it’s not in our list of things we must do.
Yes, there have been several other massages enjoyed. Weronika joined me for the second, 45 minute foot massage for 120 Bhat (5 CAD, 3 EUR). It was so good I fell sleep in the middle. Tough life!
As mentioned in my previous post, after weeks and weeks of not seeing the sun, the endless grey clouds and cold weather slowly drove me into a mild depression. It was far too long since my feet left Poland, and I needed to get away, if just for a little while.
Weronika and I chose Italy because it’s one of my favourite countries, and would consider living there. Between the food, the wine, the food, views, the coffee and the food, it’s easy to fall in love with all things Italian. In fact, if money was no object, one of my dreams is to buy an old and busted villa and personally renovate it. Wouldn’t it be great to live in Montreal during the summer and Italy during the winter? Yep, I agree. The only question is where? Since Sicily is as far south as you can go, I figured we could do some field research while regaining our sanity.
Getting there was half the fun.
I booked the flights with kiwi.com, and they were really, really cheap. Wizz Air to Milan then Ryanair to Catania, and a direct Wizz Air flight back to Warsaw. A few days prior to departure, kiwi.com started sending emails such as, “give us your passport info so we can check you in. If you don’t, the airlines may charge you up to 130 euros per person”. I laughed this off for two reasons:
There is no way I’m giving my passport details to a website I’ve never heard of or used before. Even expedia.ca, a website I use frequently while in Canada, doesn’t have my passport info. I treat information as sacred, and would rather not share certain personal details with just anyone.
I didn’t believe an airline could actually charge me. Seriously, how could can an airline charge for something I must do? If I cannot check-in, I cannot board the plane and so the tickets would be worthless.
At Chopin Airport in Warsaw, flying with Wizz Air to Milan, things went relatively smoothly. We were able to easily obtain boarding passes, but had to stuff everything into a single bag. Apparently you’re only allowed one carry-on per person, and cannot bring an additional personal item, like a purse. Fair enough.
At Malpensa airport in Milan, flying with Ryanair, things didn’t go so smoothly. Ryanair said we had to web check-in at least 2 hours before the flight or they would charge us 45 EURO each to do it themselves. I thought the lady was joking and started to laugh, only to see she wasn’t smiling. After discarding my smile, I asked what are my options. Since there were 2.5 hours before departure, there was technically enough time to web check-in and luckily there was free WiFi at the airport. However the Ryanair website required my confirmation # and my email address, and after entering this information, it kept reporting it couldn’t find my ticket.
For those without mobile phones, there was a service offered by the airport to do these kinds of check-ins. The cost was only 8 EURO per person, so we went ahead with that. When I asked why wasn’t I able to check-in myself, they showed that kiwi didn’t forward my email address to Ryanair but instead used one of their own booking-xxxx@kiwi.com address. I was never provided this email address, and quickly realized this is how kiwi gets you: you must use their check-in service (with your passport info and maybe more) and prevent you from checking-in with Ryanair directly. Fuckers.
Once in Catania, the first of business was to order a couple of cappuccinos complimented with a cannoli with pistachios. There’s nothing quite like Italian coffee, and the airport cannoli ended up being one of the best of the entire trip. And let me tell you, we tried them again and again all over the place.
The second order of business was to pickup the rental car from my favourite European car rental company. I booked a Renault Clio, but ended up with a Twinkie instead. I mean a Twingo. It handled like a twinkie though. At least they gave us a free GPS for the week.
It was a short drive from Catania to Syracuse and the clear skies and the 18C and the not-being-in-Poland quickly lifted our spirits. We danced, we sang, and we stuck our hands out of the car windows, letting the cool breeze lift them as we pretended to fly. Once in Syracuse, we meandered down some lovely old streets into a beautiful square, where a minstrel played a guitar and people gathered on the steps of a church to listen. It was a perfect moment.
Since the trip was only 6 nights, and I didn’t want to spend the entire time driving, we decided to limit our trip to eastern Sicily. If we loved the place, we could always come back, we told ourselves. But we didn’t love it.
While the coffee and wine were great, and it felt was wonderful to be trekking around Italy in a light jacket in February, everything else was kinda bleh.
For starters, the food was sub-par by Italian standards, with the best pasta dinner comparable to the worst pasta on the mainland. With a few notable exceptions, such as our first dinner, every other meal was bleh. That dinner was simple and fresh, as the only thing available was the few fish caught that day. They were iced and on display, and after making our selection, they grilled them with oil, lemon and spices. Delicious!
Next, aside from a few spots, such as Mount Etna and the small mountain villages of Petralia Sottana and Petralia Soprana, the views were quite ordinary. Cities were covered in graffiti, and plenty of buildings were crumbling. Highways were littered with potholes, and the construction of some were unfinished, without any evidence they would be finished. Smaller villages were pleasant and better maintained, but they were vacant. In Petralia Sottana, we literally had one option for dinner after 8pm.
People were quite friendly though, and some even went out of their way to help us. The young fellow in Syracuse that apologized for not offering a suitable breakfast and directed us to his brother’s restaurant down the street; the brother, upon hearing we were referred by his brother, smiled warmly and gave us a free cannoli; the old man that slowly walked us to the only dinner spot open after 8pm, after getting slightly lost and walking around in circles for 20 minutes.
Some highlights of the trip:
Wine tasting at a biological vineyard, including a vegan wine (It was my first ever!)
Having a pic-nic on deserted beach near some old ruins in a deserted park
Walking along the cobblestone roads of the adorable mountain villages, and admiring the scenery
Taking a cable car to 2500m on Mount Etna and deeply breathing the cold, fresh air. It didn’t make any sense to go any higher, since the price was not affordable considering you don’t even see lava. For that, you would need a personal guide and go during the summer. Seeing lava would have been really cool!
Being witness to the Festival of Saint Agatha in Catania, an important religious festival that commemorates the life of the city’s patron saint, Agatha.
Sadly, it appears my future villa will not be in Sicily, and the search continues…
The trip completely rejuvenated us, and the grey clouds of Poland didn’t bother me so much anymore. Especially because I’ve already booked my next trip: next week Weronika and I leave for Thailand for 4 weeks!
