Bangkok - The Arrival

I manage to get myself through passport control (filling out a landing card at the last minute after realising I’m the only person in a queue of about 50 people that doesn’t have one) and head into the lobby to find a taxi.  Confusingly the big desk saying ‘taxi’ offer limousines and I need to go outside for a normal taxi.  Oh silly me.  A friend’s boyfriend had made a comment about getting a taxi from the airport and getting killed on route which was a comforting thought for my first 10 minutes in the country.  Luckily they had a desk which logged your journey and I felt that was enough of a deterrent for a would-be murderer (and there wasn’t any other way of getting to my hotel) so I hopped on in a cab.  The driver tries to make conversation with me for the first 5 minutes but as it’s a 40minute journey this wasn’t going to hold up for the length of the trip and I find how you define these situations in the first few minutes is normally how it stays and I did not want to be trying to talk to someone who could barely speak English for 40minutes.  I needed to let him know that quiet time was completely acceptable for this passenger!  I wasn’t rude, I just answered his questions and didn’t really expand on anything or ask him much in return.  The few things I did ask him he didn’t understand and the few times my answers involved more than 4 words he didn’t understand so conversation was somewhat futile so we settled into quiet time quite quickly. 

My hotel is on Koh San Road and as we’re nearing the area he pulls up and calls the hotel to ask where abouts they are.  Then he drops me off at the end of the road and tells me to walk up for a few minutes then ask somebody on the street for directions.  I was about to tell him to do one and take me to the door when I look up the street and realise there’s no way you can drive a car up there so I let him off and grab my stuff out the back. 

Talk about being thrown in the deep end of Bangkok! This road is MENTAL!  It’s absolutely teeming with people, there’s shop after shop after bar after bar, all with outside illuminated signs, every shop has someone outside trying to call you in.  Then there’s all the food carts in the street selling Padthai or dried grasshoppers and crickets, plus there’s the mopeds that literally will drive ANYWHERE! (even down clearly pedestrian alleyways as I would find out momentarily) Then there’s the tuk tuk’s charging their way through all the tourists (they will not stop for you nor avoid your feet) then the odd taxi tries his luck and on top of that there’s hundreds of tourists wandering around in different levels of sobriety, most levels being at the opposite end of the spectrum to ‘sober’.  And then there’s me, the Bangkok virgin, trying to navigate my way up this road whilst trying to locate my hotel with this massive bag on my back plus my carry-on bag plus my camera bag. I’m hitting the 24^th hour of travel from leaving home and I was at the point of ‘just wanting a shower and bed’ about 10hrs ago. 

This is the end of Koh San Rd so it's very quiet, there's no way I'd have been able to get my camera out and take a pic just 50yards into this road but you get an idea of the amount of shops and things you're trying to take in even without all the people and other madness!

As I was still in the same clothes that I’d left England in I was still sporting my favourite woolly hat as it had been raining (shock, horror!) when I left home.  As anyone with hair knows, (folically challenged readers bear with me...) once you make a commitment to a woolly hat that’s a commitment that lasts until either a shower or bedtime.  There’s no going back on a woolly hat once you’ve had it on or about 15minutes I’d say.  Luckily it was dark and wasn’t overly hot at 7pm but I definitely looked like some kind of fool walking through Thailand in 26° wearing a bobble hat despite how much I do rock said hat.  I did see a Rasta mind and he had a woolly hat on and a either a large amount of dreads or a dead cat underneath and he was handling it fine, even though black people are built for heat more-so than us Caucasians and on top of that Rasta’s take hat commitment up about 10 levels as they seem to commit for years on end but despite all of this I did still take a mild amount of comfort from seeing someone else in knitted headwear. 

So I get to the end of the road and I’ve not seen the hotel.  I stop at a little hut with a white dude working (white means they must speak some English to be able to get by in Thailand) and ask him if he knows where this hotel is.  Before telling me he offers me a lick of his ice lolly but anyone who knows me will know that once I’m at the point of frustration waiting for something you could offer me £10 and I’d probably still bite your head off.  I don’t like distractions from my goal when my patience has been emptied and my tolerance is on empty.  Despite the obvious threat of herpes that could easily be passed between 2 complete strangers and the appeal that obvious holds I managed to politely decline his offer and at this point a passing friend of his said they knew where the hotel was and they send me back halfway down the road I’ve just dragged myself up.  By this point I’ve been walking for over 15 minutes and realise my limit for walking with this bag is about 13 minutes so I’m ready to be at the hotel about 2 minutes ago.  So I turn off the main street and start to walk around the back alleys, up and down and up and down each one with every person I ask for directions sending me back where I came from and there’s still no sign of the bloody place.  I end up walking back down the alley I initially walked up as I’ve exhausted all other possibilities and pass the hotel I’d initially gone into to ask for directions and realise the hotel I want is exactly opposite it!  There was a very badly placed hanging plant that had covered the sign from the direction I’d already walked so I didn’t berate myself too much (although my back was screaming a blue streak at me for the unnecessary exertion) but the hotel that stares the ‘Top Inn’ all day long had sent me off in the wrong bloody direction!  I had the excuse that I’d been travelling for 24hrs solid (plus the hanging foliage) and didn’t even know what day it was, what was there excuse?? Was I not literally about to drop I’d have gone in there to ask them why they were such a bunch o absolute cretins, but a shower and an air conditioned room with a bed was too tempting even for such a big fan of a rant that is me. 

I get checked in to what I presumed was a hostel type place and walk into my room expecting a single bed, a shared bathroom and possibly even someone else in the room.  What I get is a king size bed, TV, air con, en-suite and it’s all for me!  Not too shabby! 

Hey its not The Ritz but it's a lot better than the bunk bed I was expecting!

I take a well deserved shower in my ‘wet room’ and wonder, as I always do, why people design wet rooms? I get that it’s a good space saver and you don’t waste money on rails and shower curtains but this one had the toilet right next to the shower and then the basin in the dry area.  Why would you design it like that? They make little sense to me and I’ve even seen them noted before as some kind of bonus when trying to promote a hotel room.  I get into bed and am woken by a knock on the door.  Think it’s the next day already and I’ve slept for a ridiculous amount of time and the chambermaids are here to clean I bound out of bed like lightening.  Turns out it’s my friend Blake who’s meeting me here in Bangkok.  We’d been chatting on Facebook in the run up to the trip but not met face to face so he and his friend, Spencer, had the pleasure of first making contact with me in PJ’s, no make-up and my hair in plaited bunches.  That was a treat for everyone!  As it turns out I’ve only been asleep for an hour too!  After chatting to them for a while and feeling slightly better that they had a bit of a mission trying to find the place too (although I chose to hold back on the fact that I’d initially walked right past it) we all head to our respective beds and I then lay there wide awake for about a bloody hour!  But at least I’m here, I’ve made it and I’m in one piece. 

Let the adventure begin.

Heathrow to Bangkok - Outbound Journey

After a tearful farewell to Will I take go through security and get in the queue to have my carry on bag scanned (no tins of grisly meat this time so it should be a pain free process).  I've put my stuff in a tray and removed all my metallic items and am waiting next to another gentleman waiting to go through the metal detector.  There are 3 members of security staff on the other side, one is distracted with a crying child and the other 2 are chatting to each other.  Every 5 sentences or so one of the ladies steals herself away enough from the riveting chat about what the other one’s boyfriend/child/favourite East Enders character did last night to pull someone through the scanner before engrossing herself in the conversation again.  The man next to me is clearly getting agitated and releases a few loud exhales of breath but no one notices and we still stand there waiting.

“It’s ok, it’s not like we’ve got a plane to catch or anything” I say to him, to which he loudly and strongly agrees and at an equal decibel level questions why we are still waiting after a good 4 minutes of nothing happening with more and more people sending their bags through the x-ray to add to the ever increasing pile up at the other end of the conveyor belt.  Anyone with quick eyes and legs could have made off with a few laptops in this time!

The wailing child is still going strong and it honestly sounds like someone had taken his new puppy and is disembowelling it infront of him. 

“Bloody hell is someone murdering that child?!” I say to the man next to me.  “I mean come on, give it a rest!” After I have (audibly) shared this opinion with him we are both promptly called through the metal detector and i am faced with the source of the almost suicidal wailing we’ve been privy to for the last 6-7 minutes; a very clearly mentally handicapped woman.  Well played, McKay.  Well played. 

After collecting my stuff and (briskly) walking to the gate I accept the obvious situation I knew I would be faced with after my previous comment; the wailer and her carer/sister/friend awaiting to board the same plane.  Of course she’s on my plane!  And I bet no doubt she’s in the seat behind me just so she can bang my chair all the way there to seal my punishment.    

Luckily for me it seems my embarrassment and shame was punishment enough and she wasn’t in the same section of the plane as me; she was in Business Class.

There was of course the standard issue crying baby as always but my annoyance at that was outdone by the aero-hole next to me. 

Aero-hole, definition: the pompus twat generally found on long-haul flights who obviously flies a lot for work and thinks he’s important (but not important enough for Business Class mind!) and generally just knows it all.

I sear, if the pilot dropped dead this dude would be on his feet offering to fly us all home and ‘would do a damn better job that that useless cad before me was!”  They’re doing the compulsory safety briefing and he’s not listening, he’s reading a book and listening to music.  Hey there dick sponge, I think you’ll find the announcement asked everybody to listen even if you’re a frequent flyer!  He’s standing up and faffing in the luggage hold after the air hostess’s have been asked to take their seat for take off.  They took one look at him and knew he was an air-hole and just let him satisfy himself, he soon sat down after making his point to the entire plane that he’s beyond such silly restrictions!  He also left his seatbelt off until the plane was literally taking off.  They had to turn the lights down for take-off procedure and as soon as they do his seat is reclined.  Jeez, buddy, what is this, some kind of silent protest to all airline legislation?  I wouldn't have been surprised if he’d just sparked up a fag right there in his seat.  I sear if he was next to a window you can guarantee that blind would have been down.

Throughout the entire journey not a single one of his exchanges with the air crew started with a please nor ended with a thank you.  So unbelievably rude and arrogant.  As we were coming into land I was leaning in to say to him “Do you realise you have not said please or thank you for this entire flight?” when I saw he was handing me a stick of chewing gum.  Damn him!  Just when I wanted to highlight what a prick he was.  I thankfully take the chewing gum as my ears pop like a bitch when we land and was considering forgiving him of maybe a couple of his objectionable actions....when I realise it’s watermelon flavour, and lets me honest, only pricks eat fruit flavoured chewing gum. So nothing is forgiven and he’s still an asshole.       

Economy on an Emirates flight is quite impressive.  We had USB sockets to allow us to plug in iPhones/Pods/Pads/Cameras and anything else that runs through a USB outlet and we also had plug sockets in the end of the arm rests too!  I like that!  There was the usual impressive plethora of new films only recently finished in the cinema (I opted for Men in Black 3 before I took a tactical nap) plus lots of TV shows and games.  Dinner was served, salmon starter, lamb medallions for main and a banofee pie and cheese and biscuits for desert, and we ate with metal, yes metal,cutlery.  We also had hot towels handed out twice and we all love a hot towel.  I can see why this airline wins awards! 

Only downside would be no wifi.  After my Norwegian flight I was convinced that if wifi on a plane was achievable Emirates would have already have it nailed.  Disappointed I was.  It seems a few flights offer it but not all, and when it is offered you have to pay for it.

So despite all the good things, that’s still a point to Norwegian short haul.  

Emirates 5678; Norwegian 1.

Arrived in Dubai for a 2hour stopover.  It’s so frustrating seeing the Dubai skyline out of a bleeding window knowing how close you are but you can’t go out there and explore.  I did ask at the time of booking my flight if I could stop over for a couple of days but apparently there was no availability on the flights. 

Got in the inevitable queue for the ladies toilet (after walking far too far to find it in the first place, past so many shops selling all sorts of stuff except the one thing I wanted; a drink!)  I'm now starting to get a headache from my lack of fluids. 

I arrive at the front of the toilet queue and whilst trying to distract myself from the woman behind me who is constantly jabbering to herself the entire time and pushing me closer and closer to the point where I’m going to turn around and tell her to pipe down  I notice the sanitary vending machine next to me with a sign on saying ‘Sorry, out of order.  Please use the machine next to the hand-dryers”.  I look to the hand-dryers on my left and what’s next to them? Paper towels!  I don’t know if that message was written wrong or it was meant to be some kind of joke.  If it’s meant to be a joke then it is quite funny!

After taking a satisfyingly long time in the toilet to freshen up after the long flight with a big queue waiting I head out and finally find somewhere that sells drinks....and then remember I have no Dirhams so I have to pay for a £2 drink with my Visa, which will probably cost me another £2 on top of that.  I opted for a smoothie to get my money’s worth.  

Surprisingly there wasn't any free wifi in Dubai’s airport either.  One wanted to pretend it was free but then just never worked.  Teasing me with its offer to provide me with Whatsapp and Facebook and then making me wait and wait but never delivering.  So harsh.

Time to board the plane and I realise quickly that I picked the wrong leg of the journey to sleep one.  There are no power points on this one to run my laptop off and the touch screen on my entertainment system doesn't work.  I manage to get Mission Impossible up on the screen and they bring round dinner; normal salad, fish curry and profiteroles.  A big step down from the previous meal (excluding the profiteroles, they were great).  I drift off to sleep for a few minutes and wake with a start as you sometimes do when you've not been deeply asleep but my lap tray was still down with my orange juice on it.  So as I bolt awake my left leg jolts and smashes into the laptray above, waking up the French dude next to me and spilling my cup of orange juice that was on the tray.