Bangkok

Alright alright?

The flight from Mumbai to Bangkok was uneventful, and I touched down in Thailand at about 6am. Took a bus into town from the very impressive airport (well, compared to Mumbai Airport anyway) and arrived just outside Khao San Road, the centre for backpackers not just in Bangkok or Thailand, but for all travellers in SE Asia. I was immediatly shocked by how clean and quiet the city was; after spending time in Mumbai (hectic), Delhi (noisy), Varanasi (dirty) and Kathmandu (a mixture of all 3) it was odd to be in a city where you weren't going to contract a lethal disease or get run over by a truck just by trying to walk down the mainstreet.

Despite guesthouses all vying for attention by butting larger and larger neon signs outside, it took me over an hour to find a room. This was not through lack of availability, but because I was still looking for the budget accomodation - all the guesthouses were well above the standards set by the Indian Subcontinents many hostel owners. Eventually it dawned on me that maybe I would have to adjust a bit, and found a guesthouse on Soi Rambutri (a road just off Khoa San0 with a swimming pool (!) for 6 quid. Having sorted that out, I wondered about, ate some pad thai from one of the many street stalls lining the pavement, before a wave of tiredness hit me (I hadn't managed to get to sleep on the plane) and I returned back to my room at 1pm. I woke up again the next morning, having succesfully slept for 19 hours.

The next day I met Steve, someone who was in Pokhara at the same time as me. He was leaving to go to the islands on the night bus that night, but we caught up over pad thai and iced coffee (which i was quickly becoming addicted to). Steve left to go pack, and I went shopping on Khao San, buying an awesome hippy band and a pair of plastic rimmed aviators to replace the destroyed ones I brought trekking (sunglass count = 4). That night was my first night out in Bangkok, and I cannot remember much of it. In SE Asia they sell alcohol not in glasses but in buckets that probably hold 3-4 pints. Into this they add LOTS of whisky, coke and thai red bull which is so strong its illiegal in all other countries. In hindsight, having 4 in an hour was not a good idea, but it seemed like a brilliant one at the time. I remember starting drinking with two dutch guys on there gap years, but could not remember what had happened to them.

I woke up with the worst hangover in the world. It was - if anyone had invented a machine to measure them, be assured that my face would have been in the Guiness world records book. I suffered on through the day, drinking a lot of iced coffee and water. I had an early night that night.

The next two days were an almost exact repeat of the previous 2.

Exit India

So I left Delhi for the last time this trip, looking forward to get to Mumbai, which is overall a much better city - its livlier, more culturally rich, there are better traveller hangouts and after seeing Slumdog Millionaire in Nepal (if you haven't watched it yet, then do it now!) I was itching to get back and take another look at the place, this time not as a green newbie to backpacking but as someone who had survived the trial by fire that is travelling through the subcontinent. When I got to Mumbai I checked in at Red Shield Dorm, the place where I had stayed most nights in Mumbai last time, and where I knew I would meet other travellers. I checked in, dumped my stuff under my bed (padlocking it to the underside) and set off in search of a good dosa, one of South Indias best foods - a savoury pancake often 2-3 ft long stuffed with a masala mix of curried potato, dates, dried fruits, nuts, paneer (Indian cheese, a bit like cottage cheese), Dhal and other seasonal vegetables. I found a good place to do them, and was soon full up. Headed back to the hostel and got talking with an English guy called Anthony. We went out for Beers at Leopolds, an old colonial bar that most of the foreigners in Mumbai seem to inhabit, and then made our way back. Halfway to the dorm, we were met by one of the strangest people I have met travelling. He first offered to sell us a dog. Then half a dog when he realised we weren't going for that sales pitch. Finally, he claimed he was a pirate. That got our attention. Ant cut in
-What do you want??
The guy, who was not much over 5ft5 and did genuinly look like a pirate with long greasy black hair and beard, and with half his teeth missing, casually informed us that
-I can take you on the most magical trip around this city. Show you things you've never seen before. Literally, it will turn your head upside down.
Great, I thought. We've met a pirate LSD dealer. But no, he was actually a tour guide, and rattled off a list of places he could show us, most of which I'd never heard of. He also had an impressive grasp on his English skills, so we asked his price. It was reasonable enough, about 6 quid each for a day, and if he stayed this loony it would be money well spent.
We met him the next day, where he happily informed us that he had felt a bit ill that morning so had had half a litre of local spirit (which is, I'm informed, around 70%) and was now pleasantly drunk. We caught a taxi (another thing I loved about Mumbai - all the taxis were old ambassador 1940 style cars) and visited a multitude of places (and bars along the way, turns out this pirate liked - and couldn't really hold - his drink) including the meat market (think of a scene out of texas chainsaw massacre, with added rats), the laundry sector (about 10 acres where people just did the laundry for everyone across the city) and the slums where the Slumdog Millionaire was filmed. By the end of the day he was wasted, absolutely trolleyed, and could barely walk. We gave him his money and watched him stagger into a liquor store and immediately spend it all. We then went to Leopolds and got slightly drunk ourselves with the rest of Red Shield. My final day in Mumbai, I slept in before doing some last minute shopping for Indian souvenirs such as sunglasses and pirate CDs. We (about 10 of us from Red Shield) went for my last Indian meal - a Lebanese. It was, in all fairness, very good. After that, realising that I had slightly stayed to long in the resteraunt, there was a mad panic to get my stuff, get a taxi and get to the airport. I was leaving India. But I was sure I'd be back.