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Tuk-Tuk to the Road. Antonia Bolingbroke-Kent
Читать онлайн.Название Tuk-Tuk to the Road
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780007347384
Автор произведения Antonia Bolingbroke-Kent
Жанр Хобби, Ремесла
Издательство HarperCollins
We’re in Khao Yai National Park now, where The Beach was filmed. Our hut is surrounded by jungle and I’m hoping we won’t get eaten by a hungry tiger in the middle of the night.
200 miles down. Only about another 12 000 to go…
We drove from Khai Yao National Park to Phimai today, just over 125 miles, and have dived into the nearest Internet café to check our mail and update our blog. The drive here was fairly amusing. People were pulling up level with us on the freeway, winding down their windows and waving and taking photos. When we stopped for lunch at a tiny roadside café, the owner rushed out brandishing yesterday’s newspaper with Jo and I and Ting Tong on the front page. More photos were taken, lunch was free and a crate of water was loaded on board before we waved and tukked off up the road.
The main purpose of this blog, though, is to highlight some of the press we have had in the last few days. Thanks to giving an interview in Bangkok to international news agency Associated Press, the tale of our tukathon has reached some most unexpected corners of our planet. We were thrilled to see an article on the BBC news website entitled ‘Two in a tuk tuk for 12,000 miles’. Our story in the Deccan Herald is sandwiched between articles about a dog show in Bangalore and honour killings in Pakistan. Spot the odd one out.
Last but not least, Jo and I have been giggling inanely at a blog we found that takes the piss out of our venture. For cheap laughs you really must read it: www.armedtechnician.blogspot.com.
I’ve no idea how the Armed Technician heard about our story, but on 28 May he wrote a blog entitled ‘Mental patients make break for it’. Under a picture of Jo and I in Scott Wallace’s tuk tuk, he continues: ‘Two mental patients have escaped from hospital and are being pursued by police as they flee in a rickshaw they constructed…A doctor at the hospital told reporters that the pair watched the movie Thelma and Louise at least three hundred times prior to their escape.’
The Armed Technician then followed this up today in a blog entitled ‘Mental update’. According to this we have now assumed the identities of gay nuns in order to elude the authorities and are believed to be heading to Thailand on our ‘dyke-bike’ in order to rescue ladyboys from the sex trade. Oh, and we’re also armed with ten-inch black mamba dildos with which to beat off any assailants.
Thanks Mr Armed Technician, whoever you are. You are keeping two grubby tukkers highly amused. Ting Tong’s a bit upset at being called the ‘dyke-bike’ though. I think you owe her an apology.
One final point: Jo is currently reading an email from her ferrets.
It’s day four and I apologise that my blogs have been slightly lacking recently. We are now in Phimai and I really need a good wash. Because Ting Tong is exposed to the elements on three sides, you get full access to the environment, i.e. dust, sand and copious exhaust fumes from other vehicles. Hence us being grubby all over, particularly my feet, which gather dust as we zip down the highway at 60 mph (yes, Ting Tong is very fast).
We’ve just arrived here from Khao Yai National Park, which, although pretty chilled,had the worst food I have ever tasted. Last night our supper consisted of inedible cuttlefish crisps, raisins and beer. We also visited the waterfall where the scene from The Beach was filmed, although it looked far bigger in the film and was nothing to get excited about.
Yesterday, Jo, Ting Tong and I tukked over the Friendship Bridge linking Thailand and Laos and breathed a collective sigh of relief. Ever since we arrived in Thailand two weeks ago, crossing into Laos has been our biggest perceived obstacle, thanks to a recent ban on Thai-registered vehicles driven by foreigners entering at this main border. There was also the carnet de passage issue. We decided months ago against getting a carnet, since they are not legally necessary for any of the countries we are crossing and are complicated and expensive to organise. Since arriving in Bangkok, however, we’d heard that we would have a better chance of getting into Laos if we did have one. Great. So, it was with bated breath and butterflies in our stomachs that we eased down the gears and drove up to the border yesterday afternoon.
Jo has been in charge of organising all the paperwork for Thailand, Laos and China, so as she disappeared into the ominous-sounding ‘Room 6’ at Laos customs I selected Leftfield on my iPod and waited nervously. Leftfield was short-lived, however, as a bevy of tourist police, customs officials and passers-by were soon crowded round Ting Tong. ‘Where are you from?’ ‘Where are you going?’ ‘How much was your tuk tuk?’ All the usual questions were fired at me, followed by the familiar raised eyebrows and looks of ‘Are you crazy?’ upon learning of our destination. One lady spoke good English and warned me that Route 13 is very mountainous and that we should avoid driving at night due to the Hmong rebels in the north. All things we have been told before. More interesting was her revelation that there is only one psychiatrist in Laos and that depression doesn’t really exist here.
After about an hour, Jo emerged triumphantly: we had been granted special permission to enter Laos, but had to wait until Monday in Vientiane in order to get permission to drive through the other provinces. It seems that the Thai press cuttings Jo had shown Laos immigration had worked their magic and, rather than facing an unpleasant diversion, all we had to do was endure a weekend of city arrest in the Laos capital. Not exactly a hardship.
We hadn’t even thought about where we were going to stay in Vientiane, so we turned to the accommodation options in the Laos Lonely Planet for some guidance. Overjoyed at being allowed across the border, we decided to celebrate and head straight for the best joint in town, the Setta Palace Hotel, lauded in the Lonely Planet as ‘the place to stay in Vientiane’. The poolside bar and Venetian marble bathrooms sold it and off we tukked, realising as we turned off the bridge that they drive on the wrong side of the road here. Not until England will we drive on the left again.
Crossing borders is a strange experience. How in the course of a few hundred yards can everything be so different—language, faces, roads, food, smells? We had got used to the rampant westernisation that has invaded Thailand, where the roads are nearly perfect, the cars are new and shopping malls litter the roadsides. Yet the instant we crossed the mighty Mekong into Laos, the cars got more battered, the tarmac more potholed and the driving more chaotic. The driving philosophy here is definitely ‘there’s room for three’. Cars, jumbos—the Laos equivalent of tuk tuks—motorcycle taxis, bicycles and stray dogs all jostle for room, and our two mile tuk to Vientiane was not without a few squeaks from me.
So, here we are at the aforementioned Setta Palace, where the pool is divine, the breakfasts delicious and the beds worthy of staying in for extended periods of time. Jo and I were also a little grubby after a week on the road so in need of hot showers and a good scrub.
A few brief notes on Laos: I can’t believe Vientiane is a capital city, because apart from jumbo drivers and the odd farang, the streets are practically deserted. The pavements