Oh dear, I seem to have located Phuket, Laos style. The local population here is reserved, respectable and more sensitive than the invading falang. Overflowing with Type IIs, I’ll be held up in Vang Vieng for a few days. Perhaps Qantas is having a special on flights from its native territory; it’s a shame as I am now starting to detest these loud, crass and obtuse Australians. I need a flame thrower.
As I’m stuck here for a few days, I may as well make the best of it. Tubing? Forget it; if I have to endure anymore whooping, topless bleached-blonde morons I think I’ll spontaneously combust. In one of their faces. Much like these herding simpleton animals, the Type IIs all congregate here.
Today we rented motorbikes – as has been the precedence set in Thailand. Or at
least they were supposed to be, as instead I’m presented with a 4-speed manual Chinese thing that looks like it was made from a Kinder Egg or two. I’m happy being ripped off though as the Bungalow manager here ensured there was no deposit or Passport donation necessary; granting peace of mind. Twenty thousand for a map – disgraceful – but I’m over a barrel without the luxuries of 3G and WiFi to assist my GPS.
Scouring the map, I’ve found a mini-loop. Much like “The Loop”, this route follows dirt trails with the occasional bamboo bridge, mud puddle and toll road. Wait just a moment – I’m outside of town in the middle of nowhere and there’s a lady sat asking for ten thousand each, simply to drop her piece of string and let us pass. Fair play to her, the falang Type IIs deserve it. Shame the locals can’t tell the difference.
That’s my sister, in a serious rage. She’s angry that there’s no clutch and that her bike barely functions – the throttle is sticky, gear changes require stamping on the shifter, the speedo and odo are static and the seat is broken. That’s the least of her worries; she’s now got a flat. Only recently, we passed a sign stating “Bike fixing”, and walking back we are led in to a man’s house as he is carrying his baby.
In my mind I’ve already decided to offer some money for his decency. Fetching his tools and daughter to help, we’ve soon removed the tyre and are plunging the inner tube in water in search of bubbles. In no time it’s mended and the bike is again road-worthy. With purse in hand, my sister offers a gesture of payment and yet the man doesn’t flinch; suggesting he helped out of pure generosity. A few quid to us is nothing, and parting I hope to experience more of this; perhaps I may warm to this place after all.
All your Blogs are of superior quality and written with insight and humour. There is an underlying hint of the journalist in all of your writings or maybe even a seminal hint of a future short story writer/novelist. Being a shrewd observer of human nature seems to be an inherent gift perhaps inherited from both parents. Best Wishes--durmoll-123
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