- Read Part 1 here
I’d just arrived in Bangkok at the end of Part 1, leaving the airport with my friend Jon and walking into a wall of heat.
I’ve always loved Bangkok. A real 24-hour city. An explosion of noise, colour and possibility. A sense of things always being on the go, that anything can happen. Intoxicating.
A taxi took us to a restaurant where we met Jon’s partner Daeng and their two children Thomas, 15, and 12-year-old Charlotte.
The following morning we all got into the car and headed to Ban Phe Pier where we hopped into a speedboat over to Koh Samet, an island to the southeast of Bangkok.
I don’t intend for this to be a travelogue-type of blog where I detail everything I did/wore/ate/drank.
Suffice to say, I had a few days on the beach and in the sea that were like soup for the soul. Soft, white sand and the clearest of seas in which I floated as much as I swam.
After a couple of nights when my head was short-circuiting and in a spin over everything that had happened over the previous days/weeks/months, I fell into the deepest of sleeps.
Then it was on to Pattaya which rocked me out of my slumber. Bright lights, big city. Bars pumping out every genre of music. Women and men on the lookout. Walking Street – a pedestrianised area flanked by endless bars and clubs all competing with each other for custom. People of all ages walking along, heads turning left and right captivated by the lights and music. Sensory overload. Tour guides leading groups of older men and women. A veneer of vibrancy and fun masking a huge vulnerability and no little danger.
We ate and drank, Daeng and I had massages, we took a walk down to the beach where Thomas went on a jetski, going back and forth, expertly weaving through the water.
Bangkok And Back To Where It All Started At The New Siam
Back to Bangkok. I went into the city on the Skytrain – past the three-headed elephant – and headed to the Chao Phraya River. I boarded at Sathorn Pier with the boat going back and forth across the river, stopping at all the tourist attractions – the Royal Palace, Wat Arun – before the final stop at Phra Arthit Pier. It was the nearest stop for Khao San Road, a backpacker’s haunt. 
I first went to Thailand in 1998….a long time ago when I was young, naïve and had no real idea about how travelling actually worked. I had all the travellers’ gear – a new backpack, a fleece, walking shoes, sewing kits, Rough Guides to Bangkok and Sydney – I much preferred them to the Lonely Planet series…..But I didn’t have any knowledge and any bravado evaporated on the AlItalia flight from Rome to Bangkok when I threw my fleece over my head and cried!
When I did get to Bangkok back then, I somehow got to the Khao San Road – I have no idea how. I’d booked a place to stay called the New Siam, a little off Khao San Road, close to the river, where I’d struck up a conversation with a woman when she jumped in as an older guy was mansplaining to me. We became travel companions as she taught me How To Travel back.
Musing as I walked down the road and thinking of how the travelling bug subsequently took hold, I looked up and across the road. And there it was – the New Siam. Was it the same place? Was it THE New Siam? I could remember the downstairs area where people would eat, chat and hang out. It looked the same. I crossed the road and pondered going in but for what? What would I do or say?
Instead, I headed off for a mooch, weaving through the alleyways with shops and stalls offering everything from food and drink through mobile phones to clothes. I turned down one to return to the pier to be greeted by……the New Siam. All roads seemingly leading back to where it had all begun.
I’d set out a little late and my wanderings/coffee drinking meant I arrived late to the Royal Palace. Instead, I went to Wat Arun, a Buddhist temple on the banks of the river that has existed since the Ayutthaya period which ran until 1767.
Relaxation And Realisation In Koh Lanta
It had been lovely to spend time with Jon, Daeng and the kids. A really warm family who always made me feel welcome wherever we were. I didn’t feel as if I had to mind my ps and qs, just to make myself at home and get on with things.
After 10 days or so, Koh Lanta, an island in the Andaman Sea, awaited. I’d been there back in 2005 on a solo holiday I’d absolutely loved. I’d also loved the rum that I’d drunk from a jug and which affected me just a little bit. To the point where I thought there were goats fighting under my bed, in fact.
I planned to spend around five days there before moving on to Malaysia and then Singapore where the World Swimming Championship were being held.
I stayed at Lanta Happy Hill, a gorgeous place set amid lush, beautiful gardens less than five minutes wander from the beach.
I soon fell into a routine and I know I said I wasn’t going to do this but here we go. Up around 7, cups of tea, off for breakfast (scrambled eggs with salad and a strong coffee), down to the beach, swim, sit in the sun, swim a bit more, back to Happy Hill, get changed, off for dinner, back home and sit outside on the balcony for a couple of hours.
And repeat.
I had absolutely no idea that first week how much I needed to just relax. Every day I’d float about in the sea, decompressing a little more as time moved on. It turned out that I’d spend a lot of time thinking.
I realised what a big step I’d taken but I also came to the realisation that everything that had happened – good and bad but especially the latter – had brought me to that place and to that moment. And I was in exactly the right place.
There was also the realisation that I don’t have to call just one place home. I don’t have to settle somewhere. I can have extended stays in places rather than be anchored to only one location.
As time moved on, my days slightly changed as I started doing more work in the afternoons and early evenings following a morning at the beach. The wind was getting stronger and the sea choppier in stark contrast to the flat calm when I first arrived.
I went diving with the same company I’d been with 20 years earlier. I met up with friends Ian and Paula. All in all, I was very content.
Before I knew it, a month had almost passed. I’d accepted long before that I wouldn’t be headed to Malaysia at that point, it would have to wait.
I also knew that I would be leaving for Phuket before flying to Singapore for the swimming worlds.
Come the day and I felt as though I was being yanked out of a bubble. I headed to Phuket where I was staying near the airport as I was catching an early flight out. I didn’t want to be there: I felt jolted out of my Koh Lanta contentment.
But I had to be there and I had to move on.