Holidays
Memiors – The Wrong Homecoming
Words (1538)
The Spanish island of Ibiza was a captivating place with great sunshine/beaches, amazing people/friends, many bars/clubs, and impassioned times for 8 weeks. Despite feeling haggard from many nights out, I did not want to leave and my experience to finish. However, there had to be a time when the time was up, and I had to use the plane ticket that I had bought. Luckily, through early morning discussions, I found out there was a little bar in the back streets of San Antonio: a little town on the edge of the island. This bar, I was told, was the place that sold flight tickets for those people that wanted some cash. I decided I was going to stay and sell my plane ticket. The next day, I made my way over to the bar up a nondescript side street. The barman was a man of about 50; he looked like a sixties dropout. He told me to leave my ticket and come back in a couple of days to see if someone wanted it.
I arrived back at the bar two days later, the same barman sat behind the bar looking as he did not have a care in the world. To my surprise, he told me the ticket was taken just before the final day; I was to meet the buyer at 7 pm the following evening at the bar. I was hoping everything would go well as I had not got any money yet for my ticket. The next day soon came around, and I was back at the bar. I looked around and spotted the buyer at the arranged meeting point. I introduced myself; his name was Steve and he was with his mates who were all in a Volkswagen campervan to take us to the airport. I was soon in the back of the scruffy-looking campervan having a laugh and a joke with Steve and his mates on the way to the airport.
The reason I had to go to the airport was to get Steve’s baggage through the check-in and show my passport to the check-in staff. The journey to the airport took about half an hour in the beat-up Volkswagen. I could not believe they had driven it from England. It felt like it only just made it to the airport. We parked up and made our way into the airport foyer. I approached the check-in desk alone and completed all the formalities. Everything went off without concern. I gave Steve the boarding pass and soon he was out of sight towards departures and off home. That was it, I was staying, starting off with a few drinks with Steve’s mates back in San Antonio.
I picked up my ticket money from the bar the next day as there had been no complications. Steve was off home back to England. I enjoyed myself for the next four weeks. I wished it was longer, but my money had to run out sometime. I was also not getting any casual work. So now, it was my turn to get that cheaper ticket home. I went to the same bar; there was the same barman, cigarette in one hand, a bottle of beer in the other. I wondered if he just propped up the bar all day. He seemed content with his lot. I spoke to him and purchased a ticket home with the very last of my money. However, this time I was to meet the seller at the airport. The flight was at 10 pm that night, so I was in a rush to get ready. I quickly said my goodbyes and got in a taxi in anticipation of the underhand experience I was to have at the airport.
The seller of the ticket was at the pre-arranged meeting point near check-in. The airport was very busy, I thought, for the time of day. Anyway, I gave my bag to the seller and waited for my boarding pass after he had checked in. I had to wait for about 10 minutes, but he soon arrived back before I had time to wonder if there were going to be any complications already. I said goodbye and the man soon disappeared into the crowd of travelers. The flight was not for another 40 minutes, so I made my way into the departure hall. This gave me time for a few alcoholic drinks to calm my nerves. To my surprise and joy, I recognised two women I knew who were on the same flight. We sat and chatted about good times until the flight was ready to board.
It was now time to board. The women and I got up and joined the boarding queue. This was an edgy time for me. I had looked at the front of the queue and ground staff were checking tickets and what looked like passports as well. Was this just for a few people or was this a change from when I sold my ticket? It was not that I did not have a ticket; just that it was not my name on it. What could I do, I was penniless and I had decided to properly leave this time? The focus was on what to do when I got home, my mind was not on going back. The queue steadily got shorter until it was my turn to show my boarding pass. The ground staff looked then looked again at my passport and the boarding pass; pointing out they were not the same. What could I do or say? I knew I had no reply or excuse.
I was told to sit to the side. I sat down somewhat stunned as my two friends walked past with other curious passengers passing a glance at me. What could my friends say, what could they do? I knew this might happen, so I was not totally bewildered, but I had not thought of a way out of this eventuality. I sat and waited for about 20 minutes while everyone boarded their plane. I was soon on my own apart from the ground staff. I wondered what the authorities were to do with me. I had to accept that I could be in serious trouble. I was asked to follow two security guards. They looked like policemen and might well have been. They took me through what seemed like a maze of corridors and doors; ending up on the ground floor of the airport. The thought was that I was being put in a cell or holding room.
The guards and I made our way out of the building. The guards pointed to a car and told me to get in. Was it now off to the police station? We were now going round the terminal heading past planes and towards more planes. The noise was deafening, and I sat there in the back seat of the car in silence. As I looked out of the window, I could see planes taxiing to the runway and watched as we approached what I soon worked out was the plane that I was supposed to take home.
I was now made to get out of the car by the guards. The wind and the noise took me aback as much as the size of the plane looking from underneath it. I was asked in broken English what my bag looked like. They talked to the ground staff and proceeded to look for it in the back of the plane. It took about 10 minutes in which I waited back in the car. I was soon being asked if this was the bag. They had found it. The two guards got back in the car. They were constantly talking in Spanish which did not help because my Spanish was not anyway near to the level needed to understand what was going on. I had to sit there and wait for whatever would happen next.
The guards kept looking at me and further chatting. It was now a trip back to the terminal where they let me out of the car. I was fully expecting to be handcuffed and taken away to the police station. I was not even sure what the offence would be or how I would be punished. I just kept quiet as not to antagonise them. We walked as if we were walking out to the airport. I uneasily followed them with my bag over my shoulder. They then looked at me and pointed to the exit door. Were they letting me go? I did not question anything and kept walking, maybe quicker than normal. I exited the building and found somewhere to sit, to breathe, and basically to hide. I hoped that was the end of the guards. I was now at the front of the airport looking at holidaymakers getting ready for their holiday with taxis and airport buses buzzing by. I pondered what to do and what my next move would be. My mind was all over the place. Did they really just kick me out of the airport without any charge? Despite the elation of avoiding any charges, I still needed to get home.
February 2022 trip to Khok Samrong and the Golden Buddha and Temple.
(1049 words)
A few hours out of Bangkok and along a Satnav route that seemed to take us away from our destination (we seemed to loop back around), we beheld the stunning sight of the Golden Buddha in Khok Samrong nestled in the Wong Phrachan Mountain. We parked the car at the foot of the mountain and got ready for the ascent. It was not the Buddha we planned to see, albeit impressive, but the temple (Khao Wong Phrachan Temple) at the top of the mountain. I knew the task at hand and felt slightly confident, almost overconfident, to scale the 3790 steps. However, I was absent in knowing what it was really going to feel like. It was hot but the day was fading. How fit did I think I was?
The summit has a spiritual meaning and the challenging task of ascending the steps was lessened when thinking about its divine context. It was to be like a pilgrimage. There is Buddha’s footprint at the temple at the top of the mountain. Believing I was a fit person, I first went under what seemed Chinese-influenced arch and made a hop and skip over the first steps and gently got into my stride as I was able to cover two steps with my long legs. However, it did appear to be steeper than I thought. I also started to notice water/drink pit stops with seating appropriately staggered as I walked up the steps. It was hot I will not lie but being Thailand it could have been hotter. I was not sweating the first part of the climb, and there was some shade from the trees and foliage. I actually passed a few people. Maybe, I did not realise they were pacing themselves. As I got up further the person I was with told me they believed they had ‘long COVID’. If ever I needed a sign to say this was going to be a longer climb than I thought it was coming from someone who had done this climb before and they were giving in.
You can just about see the Temple at the top in this photograph.
Anyway, I had not come all this way to stop, and it felt like a spiritual journey. The view of the Golden Buddha gave me a chance to see the sights and maybe give me inspiration. There was no way of seeing the top of the summit at this stage. Whether that was good or bad I did not know. The trees and vegetation were stopping that. It was now what was becoming an arduous but worthy task of making it to the top. I actually went past a lady who I would guess was 65-70 years old. If she could make it, who was I to start complaining? However, around 2000 steps I started to feel it the most if I had not felt it already. The spring in my step had certainly gone. The pit stops were becoming obvious to me and I plainly knew why each one was there. The problem was in my excitement I had left the person I was with and they had the money. I could not buy any drink. As I ascended more, I became a person to look at as much as I looked at others. The sweat was showing on my shirt, and I must have looked shattered. The conversations between climbers were about feeling tired and how are you feeling. I was a foreigner so maybe I stuck out more and people wanted to speak to me. I was certainly not alone in having the realisation that this was going to be a slog. Despite this, to make it to the top and the temple showed a person’s perseverance and how much they wanted to make it.
The sweat was starting to show on my shirt. I was doing one step by one step. There was no more jumping up two steps at a time. My back was now arched down, not lifting my legs as high and I was looking for the next pit stop. I summoned all my energy into making it to the next chance to sit down. I was met by other fellow climbers. There seemed to be a communal spirit to make it. I was hoping that it would soon say 3000 steps but I was in luck there was a sign that said 3200. I was nearly there. It was apparent that others were slowly making their way as I ventured on to the top and was on my own for a bit. I was soon turning the corner to see the temple at the top of the mountain. My personal pilgrimage to the summit was complete. I clocked in at about 90 minutes. 90 minutes of what was hard work I must say. I had to give myself another five minutes to compose myself and I needed some water. Anyway, It was all worth it.
Looking down to where I had started and the amazing scenery was something to behold. Thailand is a beautiful country. The sun was starting to set so the camera was out. The Golden Buddha looked resplendent in its position looking over the verdant land far and wide. There was a feeling of contentment that I had done this climb. It was a test. I expect it has more meaning to the Thai people when they arrive in all its spiritual meanings. However, I went over to the Buddha footprint and performed the 3 Wais. I believe it is called the Benchangkhapradit krap, not Wai. Nevertheless, an older Thai lady followed me, and I watched her perform it extremely appropriately with some chants to follow. It was funny when she then answered a call on her mobile phone next to the footprint and chatted away. Above all, this is a definite for anyone who travels to this area of Thailand. Get ready for a challenge but when you are at the top it is something else, spiritually and visually!
By the way the person I was with did make it. They also had some money to buy a drink. However, I met them as I walked down but agreed to go back up to the top.
Memoirs – All For Nothing
(1022 Words)
I had just flown from Bangkok to Amsterdam’s Schiphol airport and was heading for Euro 2000: the European Football competition between neighbouring European countries. Slightly jet-lagged and a lack of sleep, I exited the airport and first went to Amsterdam Central Railway Station. I headed straight for the railway station to throw my bag in storage. It was certainly too bulky and heavy for my next experience. I was soon walking freely away from Amsterdam station, and I could now go off to the Philips Stadion in Eindhoven to see England play Portugal. Beckham and Figo et al head to head. Despite the excitement of this, I had actually booked a ticket to see the rock group Oasis in Hamburg the following day after the match; this initially was really my only plan. I had been a fan since the early days, and they were always worth seeing live anywhere in the world. So, as I strolled around Amsterdam at least I knew now I had to get from Eindhoven to Hamburg somehow.
I spent an interesting night in Amsterdam and then the next day went off down to Landgraaf by train. Talking to someone after a few drinks the night before, I had found out about a music festival; it was the PinkPop rock festival about an hour or so from Amsterdam. To my delight, it actually had Oasis playing and was not far from Eindhoven, I thought. I always remember going to this festival as I never had a ticket. As I got there in the morning, I saw lots of music lovers in a field. Various thoughts came to mind but I spent a good 30 minutes looking at how to jump the fence to get in for free. I made my move and was soon over a fence and in. This was only to find out that it was for tents/camping and the festival was in another field through more security and barriers. Anyway, I got a ticket for a cheap price, so it was not any hassle. The festival finished (I got to see Oasis without Noel Gallagher), and my next move was to think about the football. I ended up getting the train to another town one stop down from Eindhoven as the town was full of what seemed like England football fans who had taken over every hotel. Each hotel I went into to ask for a room in Eindhoven had so many football fans milling around singing and every place had no vacancies. I eventually spent the night in a hotel in the next town albeit it was full of Orange as the Netherlands were playing; the next night was the big match.
Once again, I was without a ticket but somewhere to go. I made my way up on the train from my hotel in the next town. I then spent the day drinking in Eindhoven and generally mixing with the English fans. I put the word out that I was looking for tickets, Fortunately, I found a guy who had tickets for the match. I was a bit wary because this ticket had the owner’s name on it, and match security was going to check tickets and passports/ID too. I was cautious, but I bought it anyway; I was going to chance it. I thought if security takes the ticket away, at least I tried to get in. The buzz of the impending game was growing, ultimately then came my moment of trying to get in without security’s bother. I walked closer and saw there were metal fences stopping fans, I got my ticket out and showed it. The inspector just looked at the ticket, I had made it past. I was buzzing. Yes, I had made it but what was this, it was only to the next fence. There were three of these. However, the stars were shining that night; I made it past all of them, and no real checks. The match was brilliant too, singing the National Anthem, cheering on every move, going crazy to the goals although England lost to Portugal; damn Figo!
Now, it was time to look for somewhere to stay the night. There was nowhere, I was homeless in the Netherlands. All the hotels were full, and it was getting late. What could I do? I ended up sitting in a few bars and restaurants which was not nice for me, as you meet up with many weird people from 11pm to 6am. 6am was the time the train to Hamburg left Eindhoven station. I was actually early and spent an hour waiting still seeing England fans going round singing after a big night out. I needed sleep badly. The Oasis concert in Hamburg was that night, and I had had no sleep. So, it was just my luck when I got on the Eindhoven train, and it was full and this continued through my three changes of train as I crossed from the Netherland to Germany. After a lifetime wait, I actually found a seat, but by that time I was scared of never waking up and ending up in Russia or something.
So, now I was in Hamburg standing at the railway station looking out. I found myself a nearby hotel, had a look around, and made my way to the OASIS concert. I could not believe all that I had done over the last few days. This was the only activity I had originally planned. I actually had a pre-booked ticket, I was legal. There would be no worries over security, no worries about jumping fences, and a nice paid for hotel waiting after the concert for me. I had looked forward to this rock concert for the month, I had the ‘golden’ ticket to get in. As I got to the stadium, I thought it looked a bit quiet and wondered if I had the right place. Where were the crowds of fans? I asked one of the guys there, and he said the Oasis concert had been cancelled. I had made the trip all for nothing due to Liam becoming ill. Nice one Liam!
Photograph of the day – Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque
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On a trip to Muscat, I could not miss the Grand Mosque. As the sun shone down on the Mosque, the building looked majestic in its finely cut Indian sandstone with 160 feet high central dome. It was certainly a celebration to mark the 30 years the Sultan had reigned. Inside, I could not but stand in wonderment of the huge Islamic architecture chandelier hanging over the men’s prayer hall. Walking around more, I found myself talking to an amiable volunteer who gave me a copy of the Quran, a CD, and other information. He was helpful to explain his religion and answer my questions. If you are in Muscat, this is a must-see.
Mon Bridge – Sangklaburi
Uttamanusorn Bridge or commonly known as Mon Bridge in Kanchanaburi Province is the longest wooden bridge in Thailand. I tried getting a different angle for the bridge picture.
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