In my fancy digs on Koh Phangan I am seduced by the luxe life – billowy king-size bedding, boozy tropical cocktails, the pool, the pleasures. But my flirtation with being a Pampered Resort Pig passes in just a day or two. I pull out the pack, lace up my shoes and get back on the road.
At the ferry leaving Koh Phangan for the mainland, I see resort tout Charlie one last time, working the fresh arrivals from Surat Thani with his pictures and his pitch, both colorful.This is Charlie: In look and personality he reminds me of an aboriginal Tim Trautman, kind of.
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On the transport to the Surat Thani train station I meet Petra, my favorite personality on this trip so far. A solo traveler and Koh Phangan returnee like me, Hungarian-born Petra is on a two-month leave from her job as (I think she said) a curator in the U.K. to trek through SE Asia.
We each experienced the island, shall we say, differently: While I was agonizing over which umbrella drink to order next, Petra hiked around and across Koh Phangan toting two packs, hacking her way through unexplored jungle to visit a hundred different beaches.Waiting for our respective trains, Petra and I fall into easy conversation and end up palling around for a few hours, grabbing a bite at a food cart nearby. Instant buds – nice!
After Petra departs on the northbound train to Chiang Mai, I discover awesome new characters to amuse me:
• The Slapper Sisters – On holiday from Britain are these three thick and bawdy middle-age gals, whom I watch at the street café where I’d eaten earlier. The Sisters have killed most of a large jug of vodka and are (loudly and profanely) bemoaning their hard luck in the romance department. One of them suspects that her job as a pub manager might be a factor in her drinking too much. Ya think?
• The Brawling Stoner – Actual overheard conversation at the train station from a guy on the bench behind me, explaining the huge scar on his forehead: “Yeah, some Thai dude hit me in the head with a big stick. I couldn’t go to the hospital ‘cause I was way too high.”
• The Crazy Muttering Derelict – Barefoot, bearded and wild-eyed, he sits down close and stares at me, mumbling what clearly is gibberish, even in Thai. Is he talking to me? To an invisible tormentor? And how soon before I might be opening my own Crazy Muttering Derelict franchise? Because the way things are going lately, it could happen!
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This is just sick and wrong:
Selling toilet paper outside the women's restroom, in case you can't read vending machine sign.---
My 12:45 a.m. southbound train arrives at two in the morning and I board its ironically named “sleeper” car … if your idea of sleep involves fluorescent lighting and a constant rattle-crash like dinnerware in an earthquake.
I’ll make this next part quick so we can get to the good stuff, i.e., meeting up with Justin in Jogjakarta. Highlights:
• Train reaches end-of-line in Penang, Malaysia, far short of my target Singapore. Next southbound train departs tomorrow.
• Sleep-deprived Jeff attempts to problem-solve around this hiccup. Say aloud: “Uh-oh.”
• “Helpful” taxi driver transports Jeff to wonderful bus service. Speed! Comfort! Phooey on train! Jeff realizes that he has allowed himself to be spirited away in a car by a stranger – just what Mother always warned about.
• Hurtling through Penang in a taxi, Jeff sees a sign to airport. He hollers and points: “Go there! Go there!”
Penang International Airport to Singapore. To Jakarta. To Jogjakarta. Bang, done! Is there no problem my Alaska Airlines Signature Visa card cannot solve?
Except … I end up sleeping in the Singapore Airport, which is to say NOT sleeping for a second night.
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In Jogja I secure a room at a reputable hotel / I-café that turns out to be within walking distance of Justin’s house. He's teaching English classes that evening, but we do finally meet up late in the coffee shop. He is still our boy.NEXT: Sweet Jogja on my mind.
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