Thailand - I Didn't Want To Leave Without First Saying Hello

Two weeks ago I began a small pilgrimage that I now have the mind the write. This moment of concentration is brought to you, in all complete seriousness, between action sequences of a deliciously bad Chuck Norris film. Most of you know how truly I enjoy bad movies enough to agree that this post comes under the full weight of inspiration rather than a dull moment of wasting time between wasting time. It is not.

(Very quick side bar: how bad a movie you ask? It's so tastefully ill scripted that the two sentence summery on the back of the DVD box holds more promise for winning the Pulitzer Prize than any one small breath of the dialogue; it's so bad, so very defective, that the blurb praising the movie misspells Chuck Norris' name. Yeah.)

Now then, a few things first. It's been made apparent that Steve, Rajiv, and I have all taken solo tours at some point or another along the way. Biking alone is something you can only experience and there is not much else like it. No cavalry, no one for you at the end of the day, no sense of companionship. Perhaps that is why Chris sought it out; he's never toured alone. Hence, in Bangkok, we parted ways. He to the north to see a friend by train, Rajiv and I continued cycling South, initiating the first day of the pilgrimage. 

What is a pilgrimage? A journey, a quest, an homage? 

No, not "Welcome to ..acha City." The sign is supposed to read, " WELCOME TO SRI ACHA!" Or, that's the way I would have it read. A little anticlimactic to see the old city in part ruins, but Thailand is an old place.

Catch up time. If you don't know, Sriracha is a popular food condiment made in California. Though the red sauce is advertised as hot and spicy, it's more of a mild topping that affords its taste to go along beautifully with any food. Think Ketchup's older, sexier sister. According to legend, the town where the spice originates from is only a days trip out from Bangkok. Road trip? You bet your ass. 

So then, being so close, I could not continue heading north without saying Hello. And as any good travel mate will do, Raj came in support.

In the spirit of making sacrifices along my travels, my cycling jersey now has a new home. We couldn't understand a word this old man said, he who lived under the temple awnings. Then again, words are not always needed. Neither are materials. Shirts, books, earrings be damed. As soon as he asked for the shirt I had put on that morning, I knew what the result must be. The exchange was not any sense of righteousness on my part. Off my back and into his hands, we had the invaluable blessings of a stranger. "What if God was one of us?" - wouldn't you be kind to a man with no home too?

There it is, our destination for the day. Only 35km to do and it was about noon? Too easy.

One of the things you'll have to get used to in Asia are the multiple versions of spellings for the same name. So close now...

The trip would not have been destined should we have not met another cyclist. That we did, assures me that we ride the correct path. Plus, check out his situation - three small bags on an aluminum bike! What!? Crazy man. From Indonesia, Danrose is making his solo trip into India. Hopefully Chris is out there meeting other cool cyclist too.

And so we made it to Si Racha with time to explore. Explore we did. Looking at the map, it was possible to visit a small coastal island not popular with the tourists. Translation, we bought two ferry tickets.

The hill top view of Si Racha. Majestic.

Si Racha is located right on the beach. An excellent place to visit, though you won't hear it's praise in most traveler books - the city is trying to keep small.

Bikes on boats do not match. The crew never knows the best way to handle them, bikes are awkwardly set down, and bags are sometimes dislodged. (Robert, whose wooden home we stay in tonight, told us of how his rear derailleur broke once as caused by a crew mishandling his bike).

At least I got this picture. Worth the salt water that sprayed over our uncovered bikes? We'll wait and see.

Rajiv and I did our homework. We looked around, saw a couple of temples (or in worse case an open field) to spend the night. Except for larger cities, we've never really been turned down for a place to sleep.

This night was of no exception...except for the small little detail of our illegal breaking and entering...let me explain.

When arrived at the temple there were no light on and the gate was shut but it had not been locked. Whats more, there was no one to greet us, not even the everpressent agressive pack of stray dogs that live off the monk's kindness to all animals. A little strange but not out of the occasional occurrence. Sometimes the monks pray until 20:00. But no dogs? Fine. We figured the day was still early so we left for dinner and agreed to come back.

The situation had not changed when we returned. A little stumped, a young woman from across the street thankfully noticed Rajiv and my moment of comfusion. She helped us open the closed gate and look around for someone to speak with. We all did our best - with no luck. 

The day was over, the wind began its cool breeze (we're someway halfway up the island mountain), we were no longer hungry tho ready for rest. Out helper shrugged her shoulders and returned home, leaving us outside. But, with one great factor still in play - the gate remained unlocked.

Well, how mad could they be?

Naturally, we pitched our tents in the dark and only later did we realize the truth. Bikes locked away, teeth brushed, night time reading books poised sleepily out in front of our small head lamps, we were already falling into dreamland when the room suddenly came fully illuminated with fluorescent light. We had been found.

Already unzipping his tent, Raj was ready to jump up and explain why we had come to opening their gates, used their showers, and set up in a small corner of the dinning room. As I joined them, it became obvious something was wrong.

In fact, there were no worries regarding the illegal entering, it was fine that we used their showers and refilled our bottles with water. No, what the much bigger misact we commited was that we had planted ourselves in an all women's Buddhist sanctuary. 

Awk-word.

Two smelly cyclists walking around in our underwear, talking to the head nun about our troubles, asking for a place to sleep in a territory made solely for people of the opposite sex/gender. Granted, breaking and entering to a Thai woman's temple to spend the night is not the worst thing I've done in my life. Makes for a great story too.

Where we ended up spending the night. High above, and high away from, the first location we set up next to all the female temple residents.

Well we must have done something right because we got invited to breakfast the next morning.

Trays of food endlessly wheeled past us. You could collect as much as you could eat.

My breakfast that morning. I didn't eat again till late that night, consequently. 

We thanked our understanding hosts with gratitude and took them up on their suggestion: ride to the top of the island mountain and visit the monk there.

This small cave is a shrine of sorts. Intimate and revered as a holy location, the cave is the direct opposite to some of the most spectacular views on the island. 

The mountain monks home. People bring him (all monks really) food in the morning, more than enough for one person. Living under the tress...I tell ya, not a bad life! Not a bad life at all...

The view from one side of the mountain.

The view from the other side. Rajiv and I spent a good conversation here. Reflecting on our separate travels, watching the trees sway, throwing movie and Seinfeld quotes in the air for a reminiscent laugh. Time has no authority here; busyness, a stranger.

The night and day on the island is something I will always remember. Si Racha is a wonderful place to visit. And, as if it needs another reason, a Cafe Bike is there for you to gander and nosh. 

Who knows, you might even meet a member of the Si Racha cycling team sponsored by Trek. The kid, Bright is his name, has things going for him. He bought us dinner and showed us to another temple where we might spend a last night in Si Racha. 

(No picture available). However, I will recant the last night in Si Racha because the experience has come to be a measure of sorts. Whenever someone says they don't have much to offer us travelers, I assure them that anything is better than what we had this night. 

Indeed, we slept with "a tin roof over our heads." The place must have been abandoned for years; the curious vines and nomatic insect colonies its only residents. ...after a night under a tin shack, well, anything more than that is a blessing."

Here is a common shot that I take from time to time. It's nice to remember just what our feet do for us, and to see the world as they might. Here, we rode through so much rain and mud that my all black shoes turn a ghostly white.  

That's all for now. I have many things to attend to before light. As always, I miss you all. 

Love,

-A