Sjoerd from the Embassy

After two weeks my batteries had been recharged with vitamin Z-3 (sun, sea and sand) and I could face everything again. The departure was a bit like a school trip, as the whole of Ko Phagnan turned out to be deserted after Christmas, the Full Moon Festival and New Year's Eve. Along with all the ravers, piercings, knitted hairbands and 70's hippy bags I tried to find a seat on the boat. I succeeded and, after a few hours only, I-don't-know-how-many-hundreds-of-us climbed ashore again and we were driven off in buses, which were supplied with air conditioning, which drove off into all directions of Thailand. You had to be careful not to get on the wrong coach. It is a good thing that I am travelling further, for whether I am a layman or not on the subject, I noticed immediately that this could be dealt with in a much more efficient way.

I cannot complain about the coach journey. The coach stopped at half past five in the morning, throwing out al passengers somewhere near Kao San Road. It was dark and I did not have a clue where I was. I just followed Emma and Emma, two very sweet and typically English girls, to a guesthouse where they had stayed before. Bangkok was suddenly crowded because of all these people who had arrived in the city. The only solution was simple: they just had to wait for people to check out, because there weren't any vacancies left in the hotels and guesthouses. Anyway, at seven o'clock a restaurant opened and this made life a lot easier for me. After having consumed a delicious cheese omelette I had to wait for another hour, and guess what? I got the last room that was available. I should be so lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky...

"Patience is a virtue" said one of the Emmas in a very down-to-earth manner, and went to sleep. The other Emma and I chatted on for a little longer. We talked about her offering another English girl in Ko Phagnan to share the costs of their B&B, but the girl had disappeared without having paid. It was really lousy; as backpackers amongst each other one tends to trust one another (especially if you come from the same country).

After having discussed some more topics, I went back to inspect my room. Nothing seemed to be wrong with it, but something was wrong with my rucksack. When I took off the cover, I was surprised to find the clips were closed, because I only ever close the zip. The zip was closed, too, so, well... When I opened my rucksack, a big dark blue cloth, which was about 1 x 2 metres long, fell out. (What a surprise that this would fit in at all, for normally I cannot even close the zip!). I was frightened stiff and started to shake like a little piece of straw. Someone had opened my rucksack! But it was still locked, and the locks still worked; and nothing else had been damaged, either. I quickly checked if anything was missing. Yes, there was. The forty dollars that I had put somewhere between the photocopies of my passport and visa had disappeared. I could really have cried. I quickly went up to Emma's room. She was almost asleep, but luckily, she heard me and opened her door. I just had to tell her my story. She advised me to check my rucksack once again; and then I went back to my room. I spent the next hour turning my rucksack inside and out, looking practically everywhere for the dollars. In my medicine bag there was some strange kind of nail clipper that might be used for other purposes as well. I immediately threw it out, just like the piece of blue cloth. I literally threw them into the street. I also inspected every pill I was carrying with me (I am really a medical specialist - not!), but everything seemed to be safe. Just the idea that you can be stopped at the Cambodian border and some rascal asks you: Hey, missus, what have we got here in your bag? These are not headache pills! And then there would be my Dutch passport and my absolute lack of knowledge of mind bending, fun increasing and stimulating pills and powders. Would you trust such a piece of carton that someone has put between your five injection needles, which states that it is for medical use only? I could be spending my days behind bars, in the deepest darkness and misery, etc.

I noticed that nothing else had been put into my bag and thought the thief must have been in a hurry to go to the loo (as my loo roll had also been stolen). It must have been someone who didn't know anything about digital equipment, because my digital camera was still there. I was still lucky in a sense. My first instinct was to make a phone call to The Netherlands, but I had to go to the loo first. That was a result of all the stress I had been through (first, I had to inspect the rucksack!). It was ten o'clock in the morning. As the time difference with The Netherlands is six hours, no-one would be there to take my call. Next, I decided not to do anything; for what could someone at a 13 hours' flying distance do for me? I was travelling around and these things happen. I decided I would call the embassy, but first, I had to make a visit to the post office, because a big pile of post was waiting for me there. After having read all the Christmas cards and letters, life was sweet again and I returned to the guesthouse in better spirits. But I did ring the embassy - you never know what sort of advice they can give you. After having been transferred numerous times, I finally got through to someone called Sjoerd. Hey, it was lovely; an opportunity for me to speak Dutch again! He told me that it was known that a certain 'gang' operated on this route. They climb into the luggage compartment and spend the whole night opening rucksacks. My rucksack had gone into the luggage compartment last because I had kept talking right up till the last minute to an Israeli girl with whom I'd travelled on the train journey here (she slept in the lower bed and I slept in the upper bed). It was sheer bad luck.

No, Sjoerd could not offer me any advice. If I was really scared I could buy a new rucksack (I am not crazy; this one is perfect!). Well, I guess this is what happened: Sjoerd could not have been too busy on the 3rd of January, so he just kept on talking nonsense until I had run out of coins and had to finish the call. In this way, everyone lived happily ever after; I had been lucky once more. It was a shame, though, that I would not be in Bangkok on the 2nd of February (02-02-02). A couple of Dutch guys had told me that on this day, I could have joined in the feast at the embassy, where a dinner/banquet or whatever such a thing is called would be arranged for the wedding of the Dutch crown prince, Willem Alexander and his Argentinean bride Maxima. Every Dutch person would be welcome. I am not particularly fond of the couple, but I could have had a nice integration session with Sjoerd or something.

Life is all about priorities

so I went inside the first shopping mall I spotted. That was great fun!!! Look, a Dutch department store like the Bijenkorf is enjoyable, Harrods is amazing and LaFayette is top of the pops, but twenty shopping malls and a minimum of eight markets in just one city is heaven on earth for a shopaholic like me. Here in Bangkok everything is available in the shops and I had missed it all without being aware of it too much. The department stores were similar to all the other department stores in the world. Downstairs you could find the Make-up Department, with the absolute 'must have': whitening creme. The what? Yes, exactly, creme which makes your skin look white. If they would see me on a normal winter's day, they would soon forget about their whitening creme! On the first floor there was women's wear, on the second floor there were the men's wear and children's clothing and on floor number three and higher anything related to house and office decoration, suitcases, bags and sports wear. The sizes and colours are not typically European, but on the whole I liked what I saw. My purse was almost burning a hole in my pocket, but I was strong and did not spend any money. It was so funny to see the little boutiques with names like 'Sweet Woman' which had clothes that looked very similar to the ones in Esprit! By the way, copying is the national sport number one over here. McDonalds, KFC, Haagen Dazs and Pizza Hut are only a few of the many worldwide chains which have found their way into the tropical money market. One can think of worse ways to spend one's days. There were also a lot of bookshops and I found a Dutch newspaper, which was only two days old and cost the equivalent of six Dutch guilders. I decided not to buy it, as I can read the news on the Internet as well (but it still was nice to see you can buy a Dutch newspaper here).

There is no lack of pharmacies here, Dr Shipman would be jealous of the amount of pills for sale without a prescription. It is not necessary, either; shopping fills up my vitamin-S supply (shopping). A little trip on the tube (which is called 'skyline' and is fully air conditioned over here) took me to the next shopping centre and I could continue my 'shop snorting' all over again.

There is plenty of culture over here, too. Bangkok has got a lot of sights worth visiting and I managed to visit a couple. The palace with the Amusement Park type-guards (see picture) and the Emerald Buddha, a few Wats and the National Museum. The latter offered a free guided tour and this cultural nitwit took her chance. It was very educational and I will let you join in this fun by giving you a table of the days of the week and their matching colours and gemstones. Gemstones are very important in countries like this one [and in which land are they not?] because they are thought to have certain powers. Kings and queens use the colours for having everything decorated in their own particular colours on special days. (I think that all Dutch kings and queens must have been born on a Thursday, as the Dutch national colour is orange). Here it comes:

Sunday: scarlet, ruby
Monday: silver/white, moonstone
Tuesday: pink/red, coral
Wednesday: green, emerald
Thursday: orange, tiger eye
Friday: silver/blue, diamond
Saturday: dark blue, sapphire
There you are; now everyone can start thinking about what to give to each other next...

Oh yes, standing on a doorstep is ab-so-lute-ly "not done", because by doing so, you disturb the house ghosts who live beneath and that doesn't particularly make them happy. I think this superstition also exists in western countries, because this is exactly the reason why the groom has to carry the bride over the doorstep of their house (and also, he has to step over it rather than on it). I already knew this before but it was not until now that I could understand the link with my grandfather, who used to say in his Sliedrecht accent: "Not on the doorstep!" the reason being that 'it had only just been painted' (my grandfather was a painter) and nothing could be said against it. As a boy he had worked on the land and he used to wear a golden earring, to protect himself against the ghosts of the land. I know wonder if my granddad wanted to leave the house ghosts in peace, too.

I let some more adrenalin stream through my body by visiting the snake farm and pose with something that had not yet been turned into a nice little bag or shoe around my neck for a photograph when it as time to get on with other things.

In the internet cafe I was shocked to find my 'sommelier' from Ko Phagnan had also arrived, accompanied by his (diving) mates and girlfriends. Only a few days before he would be off to good ol' smoking Sydney again, he wanted to invite me to have a couple of pints with him. I decided to go, as I was sure it would be a cheerful evening and because I would meet "loads" of new people again, of course. As a result, I managed to book my trip to Naples and I have also found a place to stay in Darwin. I find it incredibly funny that everyone wants to know my web site address, especially the "Ozzies"! They immediately start looking for the 'Last of the Mohicans' in their country who can still read Dutch, so that they can read my stories at last. (Please be patient, the English translation is on its way...). I will spare you the details, but we had a lot of fun. The subjects we discussed varied from where we had been and where we would be going, to what we missed most while w were travelling and more serious matters, e.g. Is there life after travelling? and Why were we travelling? Some exceptions were questions like, What would we be doing if we had not had sex in two years? As most of the people I spoke to had just completed a diving course, the answer soon became clear: goggles, aqua lung and flippers, and on they would go!

Don't you meet any Dutch people at all, then? Yes, I do! I just played the 'digital photo freak' and, while I am still having difficulties getting used to daylight again, I walk merrily in the Bangkok streets. I have noticed before that you start to think you see people you know all the time, but when you look again, you see that they do not resemble the people you know at all! This time I thought I saw somebody who I seriously thought was someone I knew from: "my old high school." Nowadays I am a bit slow when it comes to realising things and this person had walked on by before I could say or do anything. I walked back and approached him and his wife, asking if I could ask them something. and yes - it was Chris from my old group 1b with his wife Deborah (who must have thought: Who the f*** is this woman who dares to interrupt my last few holidays here? We did have to chat a bit after these fifteen years of not having seen one another, then wished each other all the best, a good journey back and hoped we would meet again sometime in the future. You just cannot think this up, so I had to email some friends to tell them about my encounter with Chris. What a small world this is!

Who could have predicted that I would next meet a Dutch girl from Leiden. Dirma was travelling by herself, but her sister would accompany her during the next two weeks on her journey through Thailand. We looked at some pictures, gave each other all the information we had on this part of the world and then said goodbye again.

I have been told I sometimes look too happy; this was confirmed when I burst out laughing when I spotted another fellow traveller in the guesthouse for the **th time! So many people are staying at the different guesthouses, but I kept bumping into him all the time. He wanted to know why I was laughing and I told him what I have just told you. In his very down-to-earth (and typically English way) he said, "Maybe it's meant to be" and he walked on, laughing and then suddenly turning around after some two metres, only to add, "By the way, my room number is B3". (Please do not try to remember the sheepish expression on my face!)

My time in Bangkok has flown by and I do not especially dread going back there at some point.

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