Monday February 22 is Makha Bucha Day, a public holiday in Thailand. This is relevant to my post insomuch as the weekend beginning on Friday February 19 was the start of a long weekend in Thailand, the capital of which I was residing in on the previous Thursday, where this story shall begin. I was a month into my backpacking and so far I'd been surviving despite a consistent supply of plans. This has always been a dream of mine, living life flexibly and free spiritedly, letting present moments dictate future ones. How freeing it was to be able to spend an extra night in Hoi An after seeing how lovely it was, or to visit a Cambodian town I'd never heard of and discover a French ghost town nearby? A plethora of housing and transportation options had kept me satisfied, even if I sometimes had to take my second or third choice. The happy go lucky life had bit me just a couple times, notably when the start of Chinese New Year cancelled many buses and I found myself in a sedan fitting 8 people, on a shared "taxi ride" making the 3 hour journey from Kampot to Phnom Penh.
When in unfamiliar lands, local holidays can ambush you. The consequences of such are that the plethora of available transportation options are suddenly nowhere to be found. This reality manifested when I gave myself a day's notice to search for options from Bangkok to Chiangmai. Buses were sold out or leaving late in the evening during Bangok's dreaded rush hour and next day trains could only be booked in person at the station.
And so I was informed at the train station counter that the next available seat to Chiang Mai was a 3rd class hard seater leaving 22:00 Friday night and getting in at 08:00 the next day. For a second I cursed my lack of planning and resigned myself to this fate of fitful sleeplessness, when I realized that if a disdain for firm plans had caused this precariousness, this disdain should equally resolve it. I told the ticket seller to hold off a moment.
I pull up "Central Thailand" on Wikitravel and inquire of the wise crowds what else is cool between here and Chiang Mai? There's Lopburi - known for its Khmer temples and crab-eating macaques. Eh, I'd seen a bunch of Khmer temples just last week. There's Nakhon Pathom - Thailand's oldest city and home of the world's largest stupa. That should provide a noteworthy backdrop. I'm convincing myself to head there when I realize it's barely outside Bangkok and kind of in the wrong direction. In fact apparently the Bangkok metropolitan sprawl devours a lion's share of Central Thailand. I peruse Wikitravel's article on Northern Thailand instantly see Phitsanulok - a good overnight stop between Bangkok and Chiang Mai and a gateway to the Sukhothai historical park. Sold. No sooner had I heard of this destination had I an 8:30am ticket purchased.
Friday, I roll into my Phitsanulok inn around 2:00pm and do my research on this Sukhothai Historical Park. There's the city of Sukhothai which is an hour from Phitsanulok, with the park is on its outskirts. Can I fit in a visit today? The timing looks challenging...but it wouldn't be so much easier tomorrow morning either if I wanted to get to Chiang Mai at a reasonable hour. All sorts of options flood my mind - should I get out super early tomorrow, should I skip these ancient temples altogether? Finally I hucked whatever caution I possess into the wind and que sera sera I head out, intent on taking a taxi straight to the park.
The driver wants 800 Baht to make the one way journey, and no discount for a round trip. He shows me the 10 baht per km rule and I fact check that it is indeed 80km to the ancient city. I resignedly ask the driver to take me to the bus station. The bus ticket to Sukhothai is under 60 baht, but stipulations require I wait until 3:20 for such a bus to depart. It's not until 4:40, well off the ETA, that we arrive in Sukhothai bus station. I see a few westerners on the bus and I ask them if they're going straight to the park - they reject me by stating they're heading to their hostel. Staying in Sukhothai - such a well-formulated idea had not occurred to me. At the bus counter, a suspicion is confirmed - the last bus back to Phitsanulok leaves at 6:00pm. Unfazed, I see a 50 baht shuttle to the park as well as a few motorcycles. The shuttle, really a jeepney or songthaew, is empty so I figure it would leave prompt at 5:00 and power straight to the park, allowing a solid half hour of ancient temple exploration. At 4:55 when it's still empty, I look up the Thai word for "now" and implore to the driver "taw nee? taw nee khrap?" However a flurry of passengers arrive after 5:00, and with the songthaew picking up and dropping off several passengers along the way, it's not until 5:30 that I arrive at the park, a nervous time watching wreck.
The thought of staying on the songthaew and returning to the bus station flickered across the mind. Instead I boldly plunged into the park like cannon fodder into an onslaught of poor time management. Maybe I don't make that 6:00 bus and I hadn't seen any taxis in this town, but I figure with cunning, guile and 800 baht I could convince someone that they want to drive me to Phitsanulok.
I sprint into the first complex of Stupas. With the sun glowing red low on the horizon, the ancient bricks radiate a healthy orange hue and the scene dazzles. The individual ruins were not imbued with the majestic grandeur Angkor Wat nor does the site as a whole provide a sense of the visible enormity of Bagan. The park actually feels like a park, your-run-of-the-mill grassy knolls and pleasant meandering paths, except that every so often there'd be a collection of 800 year old stupas, columns and statues. The park is also huge, with the ruins spanning 70 square kilometers, and the city wall center still a couple kilometers wide. You really need a bicycle to properly explore it.
At that first set of ruins, I snap some photographs that satisfy me. I stare out into the reaches of the park and consider the long walks to further ruins. At this point I notice it is still 5:45, and observing the physical and temporal formations present, I call an audible. Let's try to make the bus. I sprint back to the gate and ask a songthaew driver if he can take me back to the bus station in 10 minutes. He agrees for 200 baht. With absolutely zero bargaining power, I jump on and we speed down the Thai roads. I resist the urge to obsessively check the time and the map, and lie back and enjoy the brisk headwinds. We reach the station at 6:02 and I hurriedly hand the driver a 1000 Baht note and run to see if the bus is still there. It is. Thank goodness for Thai promptness. The driver yells that he does not have change. I run to and fro different bus station counters asking for change, but finding instead unhelpful employees about to end their shifts. It's not until the 5th counter that someone opens the cashier and hands me a bunch of notes. I sprint to deliver the 200 baht to the driver, then cut back to the bus.
Except there is no bus. I utter a brief scream: "Phitsanulok!" A motorbike driver gets up and points to the road, and I turn and see the bus pulling out onto the main street. The driver says, "motorbike?" I respond, "how much?" not sure exactly all that his question implies. Does he mean to drive me the 80km to town? "50 Baht!" he responds. Clearly not going to town for such a pittance. "OK!" I yell back, and run to his motorbike, still in the dark about this man's intentions.
He hits the accelerator immediately and we must be up over 30 km/h by the time he hits a speed bump still accelerating. The bump knocks my heartbeat into my throat and I grip the bottom of the seat for dear life. I wonder if it's not too late to give up on this stupid bus and take my chances with a private ride, but it is clearly too late. This bus will be my Moby Dick and it might just kill me. We're on a two lane speedway and my driver swerves in and out of slower cars for the next half mile, hitting the left shoulder to pass a double decker bus before cutting right and pointing at the white minibus. I give him confirmation and he chases after it, pulling up on its right on a red light. He yells into the bus window in Thai, and the bus driver apparently tells him to try the other bus. He points backward at the double decker we passed, which had also left the bus station at the same time, and tells me to go to it. I hand him a 50, suspended in a state of disbelief, and walk in the middle of a major two lane road to this double decker bus parked in traffic. I knock on the door and fortuitously it opens. "Phitsanulok?" "Ok ok, come in."
Final tally: one minibus, two songthaews, one frantic motorcycle ride, one double decker bus, about $350 baht spent on transportation, 15 minutes at UNESCO World Heritage site.
P.S. if we are to continue comparing ancient religious ruins in Southeast Asia, Sukhothai does not have the ancient mysterious vibes of the Myson Ruins in Vietnam, but is more aesthetically amazing.
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| Ok thanks for the photo, I should probably run now |
The thought of staying on the songthaew and returning to the bus station flickered across the mind. Instead I boldly plunged into the park like cannon fodder into an onslaught of poor time management. Maybe I don't make that 6:00 bus and I hadn't seen any taxis in this town, but I figure with cunning, guile and 800 baht I could convince someone that they want to drive me to Phitsanulok.
I sprint into the first complex of Stupas. With the sun glowing red low on the horizon, the ancient bricks radiate a healthy orange hue and the scene dazzles. The individual ruins were not imbued with the majestic grandeur Angkor Wat nor does the site as a whole provide a sense of the visible enormity of Bagan. The park actually feels like a park, your-run-of-the-mill grassy knolls and pleasant meandering paths, except that every so often there'd be a collection of 800 year old stupas, columns and statues. The park is also huge, with the ruins spanning 70 square kilometers, and the city wall center still a couple kilometers wide. You really need a bicycle to properly explore it.
At that first set of ruins, I snap some photographs that satisfy me. I stare out into the reaches of the park and consider the long walks to further ruins. At this point I notice it is still 5:45, and observing the physical and temporal formations present, I call an audible. Let's try to make the bus. I sprint back to the gate and ask a songthaew driver if he can take me back to the bus station in 10 minutes. He agrees for 200 baht. With absolutely zero bargaining power, I jump on and we speed down the Thai roads. I resist the urge to obsessively check the time and the map, and lie back and enjoy the brisk headwinds. We reach the station at 6:02 and I hurriedly hand the driver a 1000 Baht note and run to see if the bus is still there. It is. Thank goodness for Thai promptness. The driver yells that he does not have change. I run to and fro different bus station counters asking for change, but finding instead unhelpful employees about to end their shifts. It's not until the 5th counter that someone opens the cashier and hands me a bunch of notes. I sprint to deliver the 200 baht to the driver, then cut back to the bus.
Except there is no bus. I utter a brief scream: "Phitsanulok!" A motorbike driver gets up and points to the road, and I turn and see the bus pulling out onto the main street. The driver says, "motorbike?" I respond, "how much?" not sure exactly all that his question implies. Does he mean to drive me the 80km to town? "50 Baht!" he responds. Clearly not going to town for such a pittance. "OK!" I yell back, and run to his motorbike, still in the dark about this man's intentions.
He hits the accelerator immediately and we must be up over 30 km/h by the time he hits a speed bump still accelerating. The bump knocks my heartbeat into my throat and I grip the bottom of the seat for dear life. I wonder if it's not too late to give up on this stupid bus and take my chances with a private ride, but it is clearly too late. This bus will be my Moby Dick and it might just kill me. We're on a two lane speedway and my driver swerves in and out of slower cars for the next half mile, hitting the left shoulder to pass a double decker bus before cutting right and pointing at the white minibus. I give him confirmation and he chases after it, pulling up on its right on a red light. He yells into the bus window in Thai, and the bus driver apparently tells him to try the other bus. He points backward at the double decker we passed, which had also left the bus station at the same time, and tells me to go to it. I hand him a 50, suspended in a state of disbelief, and walk in the middle of a major two lane road to this double decker bus parked in traffic. I knock on the door and fortuitously it opens. "Phitsanulok?" "Ok ok, come in."
Final tally: one minibus, two songthaews, one frantic motorcycle ride, one double decker bus, about $350 baht spent on transportation, 15 minutes at UNESCO World Heritage site.
 |
| All for this photo |
P.S. if we are to continue comparing ancient religious ruins in Southeast Asia, Sukhothai does not have the ancient mysterious vibes of the Myson Ruins in Vietnam, but is more aesthetically amazing.
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