I recently went to a McDonalds. I know…I’m ashamed to say it out loud.
My first night on the island of Ko Mook off the Andaman coast of Thailand was by no means pleasant. I arrived from a nearby island on a small long tail boat but unfortunately timed my landing with a seemingly endless stream of Chinese tourists. Despite racing ahead of the pack, I arrived at all the guesthouses along the beach to find that the Chinese group had advance booked every room.
This list of common experiences does not apply to everyone I met in India and every location I visited, but from my experience traveling throughout the country for two months, it does apply to most…
On the two-day-long slow boat from northern Thailand to Luang Prabang in Laos, my friend Laura and I met six other backpackers. None of us had a definite itinerary for Laos, nor any specific time constraints, so we all decided to travel through Laos together. In Luang Prabang we welcomed a nice Swedish couple into the mix and were now a group of eight consisting of two Americans, one Brit, two Dutch, two Swedes, and one Canadian. We slowly traveled South from Luang Prabang, and after exploring the capital of Vientienne, we took the advice of the two Dutch members of group, and were now in the town of Thakek in central Laos specifically to do “the loop,” a five day motorbike trip through jungles, mountains, and small villages that they read about in a Lonely Planet guidebook. Half of the group had never driven motorbikes before, so in hindsight it was a rather bold decision to set off alone into the jungle with so little experience. Nonetheless, we rented bikes for about $8 USD per day, loaded up our backpacks and set off.
Unbeknownst to me in the states, tubing in Vang Vieng, Laos is a worldwide attraction. At least for backpackers in Southeast Asia. The closer we got to entering Laos, all we heard from fellow travelers was “have you been tubing? You have to go tubing in Vang Vieng!”
Let me explain what all the fuss was about:
It was our fourth night in Chiang Mai, Thailand, and my friend Laura and I were getting a little tired of the sparse bars late at night. We saw loads of travelers in Chiang Mai during the day, but at night, bars would only have a half dozen people. We weren’t newbies to the backpacker scene…we knew by now that drinking and partying go hand in hand with budget travel. Despite that, each night we continued to wander in vain, searching of a fun bar filled with the backpackers we knew had to be around.
I had heard it was tough, but I was on a mission to visit Tee Lor Su Falls, the largest waterfall in Thailand, no matter the cost.
The tough part of the trip started from Mae Sot, a Thai town on the border of Myanmar. From Mae Sot, the only way to get to Um Phang (the town closest to the waterfall) is by Songthaew, which is any old pick-up truck with two parallel rows of seats along the bed. I had been warned ahead of time that this was no simple ride; it is a four and a half hour jaunt down the “Death Highway,” a name for a road that certainly doesn’t inspire confidence in the completion of it. Along with the pleasing and comforting name, this route is a known as a blitzkrieg to the stomach with a whopping 1,219 turns, many of which are 180 degrees. As it turned out, despite the foresight to gulp down 2 motion sickness pills, the ride was intense.
My day started with a 6 hour bus ride from Ayutthaya (The old Thai capital now filled with ruins) to Tak. Tak is a town with nothing going for it except it’s placement geographically. When the highlight of a town is it’s bus station, you should get in and get out as quickly as possible. I had decided to challenge myself and continue from Tak to see Tee Lor Su Falls, the largest waterfall in Thailand. This plan would be much more difficult than expected.
Here’s a downside to budget travel:
I’m in Ayutthaya, a fairly large town (or small city) and I’m at Tony’s Place. Tony’s Place is a well known and low budget guest house that is only three dollars a night. Three dollars is a great deal, but there is a downside; It’s 10 at night, I’m getting up very early to catch a bus, and between the intense and sticky heat and the ballads outside my window, I’m getting nowhere close to sleep.
It was my last night in Kanchanaburi when an Aussie first told me about the “morning session” at the nearby Tiger Temple. Breakfast with monks, playing with baby tigers in a pool, watching full grown tigers wrestle with each other a mere meter away from you. It seemed too good to be true, but based on his seemingly honest persona, and the potential for his story to be as unbelievable as it sounded, I decided to stay an extra night to check it out.