Somewhere over Eastern Europe

I said my goodbyes to Rachael at the Phnom Penhs central station and boarded a rickety bus to the Thai border at around six thirty in the morning. Eight long hours later the shifty looking bus driver (who suddenly decided he couldn’t speak English anymore) stopped a good mile short of the border checkpoint and tried to palm us all off onto some eager moto drivers who were already fighting over our luggage.

Pink bus to Thailand, I wouldn’t travel any other way.

I was tired but somehow managed to get my backpack back on-board the bus and dropped off next to immigration control. I got my two-week visa on arrival with little fuss (1 month when you arrive by air) and mooched off across the border into Thailand. A minibus driver collared me on the other side (the bus company had stuck some blue tape on my shirt so he’d recognize me?!?) and I got crammed onto a tiny, sweaty bus for a six-hour journey to Bangkok.

I was fucked by the time I stepped out into the neon-lit chaos of Khao San Road. It was as soulless and expensive as ever so I got one of the street venders to rustle me up some Pad Thai for a dollar and went to get my head down in my unimpressive $15 room (trying my best to sleep through the badly blasted out Bob Marley covers). I got the shuttle bus to Suvarnabhumi airport early the next day and went to pay my respects one final time to my mate Jim, who died at the airport hotel over a year ago.

Bangkok/Mumbai (Notice the curry on the floor and the Bollywood film on the TV to the right…mint)

The five odd hour Bangkok/Mumbai flight was entertaining and gave me a much-needed taste of chaotic India. I’ve never been on a plane rammed full of drunken troublesome Indians before, who paid little attention to the seat belt signs during take-off and even less at the screaming air-hostesses. They proceeded to happily down Grants whiskey whilst passing around

Air Asia’s snazzy looking departure lounge

the in-flight meals and generally stood around in the aisle chatting. I watched ‘The Don’ (an Amitabh Bachchan classic) and soaked up the madness, it being by far my most entertaining flight to date. I got some grief off the pretty mean customs officials in Mumbai who seemed determined to find something untoward in my luggage but my winning smile melted their stony heats. I eventually found my way to Air India’s departures lounge where I slept for a while curled up on a couch. I had to get up after a few brief hours for my early morning flight back home to the UK. The ten-hour flight was turbulence all the way but I consoled myself with white wine and ‘Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid’ on the chair TV. It seemed like a really long flight but we eventually landed at Heathrow just before dinnertime. After standing around baggage collection for over an hour I finally spotted my backpack and yoga mat and, grabbing said items, made a dash downstairs to jump aboard the airport underground to Victoria station. I was very tired at this point, in need of a wash and it felt like I’d been on the road for days.

London was sunny, which I was very happy about as I’d lost my Burton’s hoodie in a Cambodian guest-house a few months back and only had a couple of dirty T-shirts to my name. I ate a quick bag of proper chips in a park next to the coach station and was just in time to jump on the four-thirty bus to Middlesbrough, the last leg of my long journey. Six and a half hours later I rocked up at Boro bus station, stinking and totally nackered but satisfied that I’d finally made it home.

 

 

The End….


The End