I wake up before the alarm at 8:30, the dirt under my nails a reminder of our conditions. Helen is woken by a super-loud PA system outside being cranked up then disappearing into the distance. We go down to breakfast, write our journals and plan our getaway. Stage I of the getaway was to buy a ticket to Phang Nga at the top of the bay. We went into the associated travel and tour shop and I said that we'd like a ticket to Phang Nga. She looked at me completely blank. Uh oh, another language barrier. I thought I might have mispronounced it so wrote it down on a piece of paper. I should have realised that if she didn't speak English she was unlikely to read it either. It turns out to be pronounced Pang Noa and we got tickets for B220 each. The mid-afternoon coach would have been B130 but we wanted to go so to heck with the outrageous overpricing of minibuses (a whole US$5 each), let's just go.
Like the previous one, the minibus spent half an hour roaming the town collecting people before going back to the office where our tickets were checked and a few of us had sticky labels pressed on us. We then sat there for twenty minutes before a pair of Americans bundled up and in and filled the van. As we went north the tendency to be marshy at the side of the road/railway disappeared in this case to be replaced by rubber tree plantations and karst (sheer rocky outcrops) began to appear.
By the time we rolled into a petrol station near Phang Nga the karst was dominating the landscape. After we climbed out to stretch we were told to switch to a recently appeared ute. OK. In the ute we were given leaflets for the recommended Sayan tour of the karst in the bay including Ko Pingkan, the island featured in The Man With The Golden Gun and known locally as James Bond Island, it features in all the Phang Nga adverts. The ute was owned by Sayan tours and at their office we booked their full day tour tomorrow (Helen was keen on the swimming bit) and a local guesthouse which is a nice clean place for only B300. The only downside, no hot water.
We cool off in the air con -- I'd been given the impression not to touch the air con settings by the old battleaxe out front -- and satisfy ourselves with clean nails and teeth. We ventured out to have a look see. We failed to find the nearby Wat but did find the river, a lazy meandering thing at the foot of the karst. The river and karst. It's only about 30C but the humidity makes movement a challenge. After a wayward ramble around our end of town (it's too long to walk the length of town and no chance of us being fit enough for a jungle walk - phew!) we managed to signal our desire for a Coke at a small shop before buying beer and ice cream at the 7Eleven. We walk past the battleaxe into the guest house, Helen eating her ice cream, she immediately spots the beer but no action taken. We expected to be chucked out. I spend twenty minutes trying to eat my ice cream which is in a pot with no spoon. I'm armed only with a small straw. It's hard work.
We head out for tea, directed by the battle axe to the left, I think she's warming to us, and stumble into the first eaterie we see, partly because the menu, if not the communication, is in English. We're the only diners. That [the food] goes down well, aided by Helen's absorbtion in the 3cm gecko scoffing small flies on the table. We head on down the road to buy batteries for my torch and spy several fuller places en route. Back to the room to guzzle beer, fiddle with the telly (a personal obsession) and to sleep.
Phang Nga Guest House, Phang Nga N8.46600 E98.53111 Elev. 67m Phang Nga Guest House, Phang Nga.
Copyright 2003 Ian Fitchet. All rights reserved.
