We have no idea where we are right now. Three days here and still no clue. We don’t know the name of the area. Or the guest house. If we were truly concerned with knowing, we’d ask. But we’re not. So we haven’t. We know we’re 65 miles west of Kanchanaburi. We happily got to know there before coming here. To ‘Not Kanchanaburi,’ as we now refer to it.
The long, lazy road leading in and out of Kanchanaburi.
There is a dynamic to this traveling thing that led us here. Something I’ve had the privilege of being a part of time and time again, yet struggle when trying to describe it with just one word. Coincidence, chance and luck come to mind, but there’s more involved than that. See, this ‘thing’ also requires the human elements of trust, goodwill and generosity – and yea, maybe a little chance or luck sprinkled in there.
The Thai Buddha Pee Nong gave to Ash for her birthday, “for luck & guidance”.
So exactly how we got here might resemble something called, “Four degrees of The Beautiful Occupation”. The night we arrived in Bangkok Ashlie put a status update on her Facebook page announcing our safe arrival. The next morning she had a message from a dear friend, Lee, who lives back in Dallas, mentioning that her sister, Gili, lives in Bangkok. Lee suggested that we contact Gili. Explaining that she’s lived in Thailand for 10 years, is engaged to a Thai guy and would be more than happy to extend a helping hand. Having been to Bangkok a half dozen times I knew that we didn’t necessarily need much help or guidance, per se. However, one golden rule that I’ve clung to during my travels is that when the opportunity presents itself to spend time with a local, or someone who is deeply immersed into the local culture, you jump on it.
Aey’s Dad, Khun Bah, engaged in a heart to heart with Adrian.
A day or two later we befriended Gili, her fiancée Aey and their handsome, 2 year-old son, Finlay. They picked us up in their 1971 VW van named Ginger and took us to a few spots in Bangkok that you don’t see unless you’re Thai or closely connected to one. Food here in Thailand is such an integral part of the everyday culture. Everywhere you turn there’s either a fresh market or a line of street vendors doing what they so brilliantly do.
Little plastic bags full of Thai heaven, the red curry was phenomenal. No English, but all smiles.
It’s well documented that the Thais eat, on average, six times a day. That was nothing new to me, but what I’d never seen before is a Thai that could eat like Gili’s fiancée, Aey. Which turned out to be a blessing in disguise for us, as we ate with them, their family and their friends on multiple occasions. Frankly, since crossing paths, we’ve been privy to some of the most delicious and spiciest food this country has to offer, producing the kind of heat that makes your brow and upper lip bead with sweat, your throat need perpetual clearing and your mouth feel like it’s hosting a 4-alarm fire, we absolutely love it!
All you can eat for 109 Thai Baht ($3.50). Jellyfish, squid, prawns, mussels, pork, chicken, beef, you name it. We did some damage.
Something else dripping with tradition and unique to the culture here is the massage. In tourist areas it is common knowledge that you can get a quality massage for roughly $5 bucks an hour. However, the spot that Aey and Gili took us to was not the place where you’ll find any tourists, none at all. Located down a remote strip of country road 45 minutes outside of Bangkok, this particular place is a vocational school for the blind. A school that houses, teaches and trains the visually impaired, allowing them to attain the skills necessary to integrate themselves into society and sustain themselves while doing so. They must study and practice the art of Thai massage for two years before they qualify to take on their first customer. The massage itself was beyond comparison, often dancing on the finest line between pleasure and pain. The visually impaired have a remarkably keen sense of feel, and that gift, coupled with two years of intense training, made for the most memorable three-hour massage of our lives.
Like I said, a fine line.
Yes, from head to toe, the massage lasted 3 hours. I almost feel guilty sharing how much it cost us, but here it is: we each paid 300 Thai baht, which equates to three hours worth of massage for $12 dollars each. Don’t hate.
Peacefully relaxed – but worn out.
That night during our feast of a dinner, we mentioned to Gili that our next move after Bangkok would likely be to Kanchanaburi. Coincidentally, Aey has 32 aunts and uncles, including a few in Kanchanaburi. It had been a while since they’d been to visit his family in the city rich with WWII history, so we all decided that a road trip would follow.
Aey and Gili’s kiddos, Finlay & Ginger.
From the moment we stepped out of ‘Ginger’ and onto the streets of Kanchanburi we were greeted with warm, welcoming smiles. Pee Nong, a good friend of Aey and Gili, has a coffee shop next door to the Blue Star Guest House where we’d be staying. This Pee Nong is not your average SE Asian barista, he takes his coffee, along with his cowboy boots and his country music, extremely serious. The beans that he uses are harvested in the south of Thailand and sold to the rest of the country. But, the Robusta/Arabica mix he serves is formulated especially for him and his D & D Coffee House. Thais come from all over the province to have Pee Nong teach them how to make a proper coffee.
The best coffee (and bacon) in Kanchanaburi.
Once Aey and Gili returned to Bangkok we spent bits and pieces of our remaining days in Kanchanaburi posted up on the balcony of Pee Nong’s place, listening to him softly strum his guitar and share with us just how much better life is now that he’s sober, a kind and gentle soul, you can see and feel the remorse he has for all his years of heavy drinking. He is very open about it, presumably helping his cause. His brother is a Buddhist monk and, according to Pee Nong, played a crucial part in him ultimately getting clean. The sort of fella whose big smile and sweet nature you’ll never forget, Ashlie and I are extremely endeared by our new friend.
Pee Nong at the farm we visited. “John Denver’s music never dies”.
When we asked Pee Nong what else around town we should do, he mentioned a good friend of his having a piece of land about an hour outside of town; a small, quiet getaway with no other tourists. Turns out, it’s the same spot Gili had recommended to us, giving high praise to the beauty of the place and the guy who owned it. As luck would have it, Thong, the owner, was in Kanchanaburi that evening. We organized a time and pick-up spot, and two days later we were on our way.
Pulled over somewhere between Kanchanaburi and ‘Not Kanchanaburi’.
So, here we are in ‘Not Kanchanaburi,’ Thailand, staying in a beautiful bungalow with marble floors, concrete walls, a thatched banana leaf roof (and wifi!), tucked up and away from the long and winding, two-lane road heading to Kanchanaburi, surrounded by rolling hills and lush green mountains, the only sounds in the morning are of the birds singing to one another and the large, dried leaves bouncing across the front of our little yard.
Our perfect little bungalow. $18 a night, two dollars less than our budget allows.
Minimal English is spoken around these parts, thus us not knowing the name of where we are, which is kind of nice actually. Thong and his family are doing everything in their power to make us feel welcome and at home. I guess in one sense, we are home, for the moment.
Where we spent our early mornings drinking coffee and playing audience to the singing birds.
I’m thrilled we received what some might deem ‘a simple Facebook message from a friend’ our first morning in Bangkok. We certainly would be somewhere other than here had it not been for Lee’s goodwill, the compassion of Gili and the graciousness of Pee Nong. And as a result, these first few weeks have given Ashlie a picture-perfect introduction into the beautiful, interconnectedness ways of travel.
