The amount of farang people on Kho Samui with medical bandages wrapped around elbows and knee caps is staggering. Victims of traffic accidents on Kho Samui`s curvy roads caused by a combination of factors...People going home on a rented scooter after a heavy drinking binge at one of the island`s many bars, slippers on white feet that make it difficult to shift gears and , of course, the state of the roads. The Kho Samui Hospital must be in constant full-time overdrive.

Feeling in the mood for a sweaty day of cycling under a scorchingly hot Thai sun I decide to hire a bicycle longingly rememebering my last time on this island, my last stay in Hat Lamai when I had a local ladyfriend who rented out scooters and two Harley Davidsons. When the Harleys wheren`t rented out by mid afternoon I could take one and go touring often with my lady on the back clasping her slender arms around me tightly while one of her friends would look after her little scooter business.
I seem to remember I felt quite the MAN then...hehehe.

I cycle up north in the direction of the airport planning to cycle all the way around the island following the coast which should take me the better part of the day. Cycling up low hills with white sand beaches full with bikini clad farangs, local boys trying to sell mangos, jet skis out at sea leaving a white trail of fibrating sea water behind them.

I stop frequently to drink ice-cold cans of coffee at 7/Eleven supermarkets sitting outside in the sun. If it wasn`t for the heavy traffic, scooters, Song-Thaews, busses and trucks, this would be a paradise island and a perfectly beautiful day.

I stop at Na Thon to watch the fishermen repair their nets and dry their laundry in the sun, have a bowl of Johk with big chunks of Kai floating in it - thick rice soup with chicken chunks - for the necessary energy.

I stop at Hat Bo Phut to inquire about the old French speaking lady I met yesterday on the Song-Thaew showing people the photo I made of her sitting at the side of the road. Blank stares and total incomprehension meet my questions in halting Thai. Eventually a cop tells me in English "she good spirit, sir, but sometime she like have fun with Farang", his face deadly serious while his colleague nods his head agreeing totally...knowingly.

Sh*t, I really wanted to know more about that Karma she warned me about!!!

My last stop is at Wat Khunaram to see the famous Mummified Monk but after the little Benign-Female-Spirit story having a bit of fun on my behalf, the monk`s mummified body wrapped in saffron robes and a pair of ridiculous sunglasses on his still grinninhg face, seems minor in comparison.

written by  heraclio on April 24, 2009 from Ko Samui, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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Wether it be your first visit to His Highness King Bhumipol`s Kingdom or you`re a seasoned traveller in Southeast Asia having been to Thailand on numerous occasions, one can`t help but notice the big beaming smile adorning the light brown colored face of any given Thai be it male or female, be it a twenty year old bar lady entertaining fat and overweight grey-haired Farang s*x tourists or a male Muay Thay fighter getting his *ss kicked in the square ring, the Thai smile is unbeatably there.

This famous smile they even use to promote their country with nicknamed Land Of The Smile could well be a direct result of the Thai obsession with the concept of Sanuk, or its opposite Mai Sanuk. Sanuk rules the minds of the Thai people, perhaps even more thas their other fascinations like animal spirituality or superstition and basically means "FUN", have fun to the max!!!

Whatever you do in this life, whatever bad luck might assault you, good luck blown by the wind in your life direction....you really should have Sanuk!!! Be it backbraeking work in the North`s rice paddies twelve gruelling hours a day under a burning hot Thai sun you will still observe the locals having Sanuk, flirtations take place, women giggling while good naturedly exchanging the latest gossips.

I`m on my bicycle again on my second tour around the island, in a reversed direction though, we need to keep things interesting after all, have a bit of Sanuk here...hehehe.

I keep a wary eye open for a possible chance encounter with another Female Thai Spirit out to have a bit of private fun on my Farang behalf though I have a strong suspicion that it might very well be these d*arned Thai cops in Hat Bo Phut pulling my legs. Still when the Spirit World is concerned I`m unwilling to take any chances, especially so in Thailand where every house, hut or whatever manmade structure, public bus or private car has a Spirit House.

written by  heraclio on April 25, 2009 from Ko Samui, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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I'm watching the girly bars opposite the road from the 7/Eleven while working slowly but with determination on a small can of Leo beer, my favorite brew in this part of the world, how the Hot Mommas do their best to lure a hamburger fat 300 pounder, still a young bloke who probably feels like King Rat in this part of the world. He must be on burdensome mission, I mean the lust in his eyes is pure and obvious while he blows them kisses but quickly moves on down the road. Maybe he is the possession of an empty wallet or else has had his satisfaction already several times today.

From what I can see his Karma is not lashed yet by a life time of Western introduced Guild Complex, still a young man who has come to Asia his head full with all the Hot Momma stories, having been ignored by his female contemporaries back home, probably even ridiculed most of his short adult life while all the other boys knocked down big pints of cider in the local bar while boasting about their latest conquests, where the ladies sat at tables together in small groups, lipsticked and polished nails, producing excited giggles at the prospect of getting picked up tonight.

None of all this for him though, he was after all just the Fat Boy!!! Here in Thailand the roles have been reversed...Hot Momma bar girls all over him telling him how s*xy man he is, easy days on a sunny beach and evenings full with girly giggles in the bars, the man is obviously a HAPPY MAN here!!!

My German neighbor on this bench is quite the opposite, big and muscular and of my own age, all his front teeth gone, intoxicated to the max he has spent the better part of this still early evening creating an ever bigger expanding feeling of irritation inside my head verbally charging me with stories of "Diese verdammte Thaise H*re sind alle verdammte Scheisse!!!", for him it must be a Karma-laden night but I presume that even a thug like him has got culture, wherever he has hidden it inside that Mau/drunk German mind of his is beyond me though.

Still with all this gutteral screaming Thai bashing I can no longer meditate on the world around me while making quick notes in my scap book. I still hear his German worlds of anger against Thai female society when I leave him to his own frustrations.

Good decision too because I find myself back on another bench in front of another supermarket and with another conversation partner, Letitia from Beijing dressed in s*xy shorts and shapely long legs that somehow seem to go for ever, a sharp well-educated mind and speaking perfect English. I feel a strong mental kinship with her within minutes while we chat and share travel experiences, I could have met her ten years ago instead of ten minutes ago, we klick as the Dutch say, sh*t I could drown in her love if given the time. I feel selfconscious about the Burmese sigars I smoke...an unusual feeling for me!!!

I follow her around while she does her final shopping telling me she will fly back tomorrow, back to Beijing, back to her work. We return to "our" bench for a last drink and then she is gone...in and out of my life for just a few hours but leaving a lasting impression

I hurry back to my bungalow to make a quick painting of her on a piece of driftwood I found on the beach today, while the image of her Jiil face is still fresh in my mind.

Hey Letitia, I know you're reading this story, hope you like it...hehehe.

Hans from Amsterdam.

written by  heraclio on April 26, 2009 from Ko Samui, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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I awake to a familiar ghost gnawing at my inmortal Phi, my Western Farang soul being devoured at an alarming rate leaving me clammy and sweaty in my bed, grayish sheets wed to the touch with my perspiration.

In my mind`s eye still half inside the dream world I see that Benign Female Spirit I met on the Song-Thaew last week, somehow she seemed a whole lot less benign in my dream, wild-eyed and and her gray hair standing out in a crazy halo around her old woman`s head, stark naked with wrinkled old t*ts resembling empty crumbled Dutch tabacco bags, hanging down her percament like body , bony fingers with long split nails pointing at me accusingly, her voice shrill and full with hatred scraeming at me in Isaan accented Thai, all sorts of vulgarities I find hard to understand though the meaning is unmisstakeable. Didn`t she tell me she had never left the island, so where did this Northern Thai accent come from?

I don`t even bother with a shower getting dressed quickly, strapping my bulky backpack to my shoulders, leaving the key on the table of my bungalow`s balcony and hurry out to the main street.

The still early morning sky is crimson red with the rising sun out at the ocean, long shadows and motorbike taxi drivers in shabby jeans and T-shirts sitting cross-legged in the street having breakfast, fried chicken with sticky rice, three monks in their orange colored robes walking down the road asking bleary eyes bar girls for alms, they sit listlessly on bar stools while handing over a twenty baht note, they don`t need to worry about their Karma for the rest of the day.

A Song-thaew honking at me while passing by. I presume the driver expected the first business of the coming day seeing me with my backpack.

No way though will I go back to Na Thon by Song-Thaew after my Evil-Spirit-Nightmare. I`m still shivering, big drops of clammy sweat dropping down my big Farang nose, my shirt getting drenched by the perspiration coming off my large Farang frame, sh*t, I can feel it streaming down my legs in rivers, this is truely embarrasing!!!

I decide to travel to Na Thon by motorbike taxi trying to ignore the bottle of Sang Som Thai whiskey, the plastic cups they drink this heavy stuff from. I normally make it a point to never engage their services when they are intoxicated but right now I feel paranoid and desperate to get out of Hat Lamai, make it to Na Thon where I plan to take the ferry tomorrow and cointinue my trip, away from that d*rned Evil Female Spirit that scared the living daylights out of me.

written by  heraclio on April 28, 2009 from Ko Samui, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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The main weapon of married Thai women on the notorious philandering outside the marrital bed of their cheating husbands is severing their partner`s male organ, often tying the now useless but in the past highly overused male equipment to a hot air balloon, let it fly across the Thai countryside, maybe get picked up by a malignant ghoul or else a benevolent entity from the spirit world.

Dumping this particularly male piece of pride on the family`s garbage heap is also a serious option. Let it rot with the household rejects and when it has become a stinking swollen yellowish shadow of itself, get eaten by the rats and cockroaches. No wonder rats and cockroaches are the only lifeforms that seem to be bigger here in the East than back home in ancient Europe.

As a Farang I`m not supposed to know these little shames of Thai society. Though Thai English written newspapers like the Bangkok Post and the Bangkok Nation are good and informative you won`t find stories relating to the P*nis Severance hobby of Thai wives that have little horns growning out of their heads, horns that seem to grow and grow. By the time the poor thing is old she can hardly keep her head up because of the sheer weight.

Move to the Thai written newspapers and these stories seem to be all over the second and thrid page often with accompanying gory and bloodily detailed photos of the male victim.

Prostition in the Land of the Thais is not one-gender victimised!!!

However allow me to be non-judgemental on prostition in this weird Asian nation. My male Farang spirit, my Phii as the Thais call it, has already long ago lost its capacity to deal with the world as a whole, let alone this crazy sh*t!!!

Back in Na Thon I take up residence in a small no-name guest house for a meagre 80 Baht, I presume I could return to the Nathon Residence but I would rather not get "brutalised" by the Chinese receptionist lady who had an obvious interest in the shorttime trade and could very well get furious when she finds out I might have certain romantic feelings for a Chinese lady from Beijing but no interest in a Chinese receptionist lady with aspirations as a full time h**ker!!!

My new accomodation might be a dump with a thin matrass that, I have no doubt, is full to overflow weith bedbugs waiting axciously for me to switch off the light switch so they can do their bloody work on my weary body that contains a mind by that time to drunk to notice.

At least this place is situated above an internet cafe so I can surf to www.gameknot.com to play some games of chess, challenge me if you dare.

written by  heraclio on May 1, 2009 from Ko Samui, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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Takraw aka Siamese Football and introduced to the Southeast Asian Games by Thailand, is played with a woven rattan ball of about 15 cm. in diameter, is played like volleyball though the hands are taboo in this game, just the feet, chest and head.
Amazing aerial pirouttes can be performed by more experienced players kicking the ball across the net with a certain style known only to the Thai.

A game is in full swing when I arrive at the local police station with young cops dressed in white shorts and sweaty T-shirts - police issued - and my polite request for joining a team is enthusiastically accepted.

I used to play this game nearly every night with Jamie and his mates when I still lived in Bangkok with Nong. Needless to say that Jamie`s mates where young strong bucks from the Thai capital`s seedier neighborhoods, hoodlums involved in shady deals and even shadier businesses that I never bothered inquiring about, young muscular oriental men whose bodies where covered in weird tattoos symbolysing their superstitious nature, a Noordu, protection against bad luck.

They happily accepted me in their midst, just as easily as these young Thai cops allow me to join their game of Takraw. Yet another part of the communal Thai mind I`ve come to admire so much, come to love!!!

My body soon goes into overdrive while I try hard to keep up with these well-trained locals who, I have no doubt, play this game every night, lots of laughter and loads of chemicals releasing themselves inside the gray mass that makes up my Farang braincells, the game gets more spike and the other participants pay me no sacrifice, no rest for the weary.

I make a near complete sommersault scoring a main point for my team and even stronger points for "FACE" with my athletic abilities. I catch the rattan ball with my chest and knee it to a team player while my mind is back on that play ground back in time, back in Bangkok, back to Jamie and his rough friends.

When it is all over I sit around with these young Thai cops and their older colleages drinking Heineken beer straight from the bottle, icy cold to the tough reminding me nothing in the whole wide world can beat the taste of ice-cold beer after a good work-out.

written by  heraclio on May 2, 2009 from Ko Samui, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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Travelling in Thailand as a Farang I have two options. I could enter one of the many travel agencies that dot the streets of any Farang rich tourist destination in this oriental Kingdom. In which case I`ll travel either in air-conditioned mini-bus or else by a big huge tourbus with comfortable reclining seats, a built-in smelly toilet and a monitor above the driver blaring away most of the trip surrounded by backpack travellers from all over the world swapping travel stories in a multitude of languages while the driver himself is knocking down small bottles of Red Bull energy drinks to stay awake after a night`s partying.

My other option is local buses with wooden seats of the non-reclining type and surrounded by locals on a visit to relatives and exchanging the gossip of the day, politics always a serious topic in Thai conversation. No airco here but open windows for the necessary ventilation, food hawkers at any stop entering the bus offering barbequed chicken legs and carpers, fried shrimp and a varity of fruit, bottles of mineral water or small cans of cold Heineken beer. A rooster tied up in a rattan wooven basket under a seat screaming his protestations while I try to eavesdrop on on-going conversations around me.

Two monks in front of me chanting softly in ancient Pali dressed in orange robes. Two young women, one heavily pregnant discussing the possible name for the soon to be born infant, another serious conversation topic in a medieval society where a name is supposed to be protection, a moordu against bad luck, against attacks from evil spirits and mean unpredictable ghoulds, where a name is supposed to have magical powers!!!

I once again realise my Farang mind is poisoned by Asian magic, preindustrial superstition that has over all these years become an illogical labyrinth inside my Western trained Phii and mind. Listening to these locals talk about the matters of their Asian world my Western Logic is like a distraction to my Farang thinking. My own Dutch world all of a sudden seems like a cultural defilement. I`m experiencing a spiritual and cultural attack on my Farang background, a Thai contamination of my very essence.

Apart from the fact that travelling by local transport instead of farang popular mini-bus or monitor blaring tourbus, is but a fraction of the price, it are those intence feeling that make me opt for these rusty old buses where the wind blows in dust and sand, where smells and sound remind me I`m far away from home, backpacking in a country that is unversally different from my own.

written by  heraclio on May 3, 2009 from Krabi, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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Wat Tham Seua aka Tiger Cave Temple is not like most Wats in Thailand. A temple might be a place of worship but still a dusty place with scrawny dogs lazily scratching their flea ridden behinds, temple cats desperately and in vain trying to keep the temple grounds free of small mice, bold house sparrows eating from the small bowls of rice offerings like dignitaries from Lord Buddha himself sampling the sincerity of the faithfull. Sleepy monks still dozing in the shade after early morning's alm round.

Wat Tham Seua on the other hand has slowly turned into a serious tourist attraction with new hotels being build all around the Karst stone rock formation which is the centre of the Wat and visible from Krabi centre about four km. away.

Long lines of VIP tour buses parked at the entrance greet me when I arrive by hired bicycle watching the construction workers at the side of the road sitting on bamboo mats eating fried chicken, white plastic cups go from hand to hand. I don't need the sour smell of fermented rice boiling in a food kettle over a small fire to know they Burmese day labourers are having themselves a ball not caring much about the five star hotel they are supposed to work on.

Sabai, Sabia and Sanuk, Sanuk are all I need to know the motorbike taxi guys will let nobody near my unlocked bicycle while I tour the Temple ground. My sketchbook and pen, my water colours and a small mineral bottle in my bag ready for action I buy myself a ticket joining the many tour groups that wander from one building to the next listening to local guides explaining everything in a variety of different languages, camaras snap while umbrellas are closed upon entering a temple, opened again outside as a protection for vulnerable white skin against a harsh Thai sun.

More than 1200 very steep stone steps will bring me cherished peace at the top of the weirdly shaped karst peak, no more rowdy tour groups of mostly elderly Europeans hung with expensive camara equipment and sweaty T-shirts - not that my T-shirt is still dry after these 1200 steep steps up - just a few local and Farang die-hards who must have felt as fit as me at the beginning and look just as exhausted and perpiration drenched as me now that we have made it to the top.

Our rewards are more than just worth it though, apart from peace and tranquility that rule up here, vistas all the way to the Andaman Sea, a huge Buddha statue and a gilded stupa, friendly young monks hand out much needed bottles of mineral free of charge.

written by  heraclio on May 6, 2009 from Krabi, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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Small little mozzies look for a safe spot on my sunburned legs to roost, suck away on my sweet blood. They better be carefull though! I got my eyes on them and will most definitely squash them the moment they will settle down on my reddish flesh.

I might be an animal lover and female friendly, totally aware that in the mozzy world it are the females that NEED my blood due to their reproductive purposes....

Still if I detect them anywhere on my sore and hot skin they can be reasonably sure of a one-way ticket to Mosquito Kingdom Come free of charge!!!

I am once again on my rented bicycle though today I wanna cycle to Bokkharani National Park nearly 40 km. north of Krabi, 40 km. of cycling through a slightly hilly terrain, both sides of the road flanked by dramatically shaped karst Stone formations covered in lush rain forest jungle.

A whole day of cycling under the harsh and hot Thai sun means I`ll get drenched in perpiration so I`ve given up on my long blue jeans - I must be one of the very few Farangs in Thailand not constantly dressed in colorfull shorts 24/7 - and instead put on my own shorts and a old T-shirt.

The weirdly shaped karst rocks are interspersed with big plantations of rubber trees and coconut groves.

I stop at karst Stone rocks to check out the caves inside being guided around whether I like it or not, by ragged looking village children hoping for a few coins in return. I stop at roadside shops for not so cold bottles of Coca Cola "sorry sir not have electricity for fridge", I pass small groups of local boy scouts dressed in light brown calling Sabai Dee, Sabai Dee sir while disappearing behind me. I get overtaken myself by farangs on rented scooters, their local girlfriends on the back glamoring me on.

written by  heraclio on May 9, 2009 from Krabi, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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I wake up in my 120 Baht room, a windowless box with with green colored tarpaulin on the floor sticky to me feet because of the dirt, the only furniture a metal frame supposed to be a bed with a thin dirty matrass on it. The sheets gray with age I had to put on the matrass myself - the petite receptionist lady who doubles as a cleaning girl was porbably pissed off I ignored her obvious advances when I checked in.

She gave it another unsuccessfull try last night when I returned slightly intoxicated from next door`s reggae bar.

Having a hard time to overcome my hang-over while making it to the communal bahtroom for a cold shower, no shower head here just a metal pipe sticking out of the wall from which a steady but not so strong stream of water approaches provided the tap is turned all the way on.

Dark brown cockroaches comfortably walking up and down the not so clean tiles of the shower walls, yeah, these monster probably live on what quite literally lives on these walls!!!

Not sure if the grunting noices originating from my neighbors last night were the result of love making or a physical premarital dispute. Good thing I was intoxicated enough to fall right into the hands of Lord Morpheus instead of having to listen to all that sh*t!!!

Walking through the lobby on my way out trying to ignore both the smells of machine oil as well as the flashes coming out of Miss Receptionist I wonder why I always insist in staying at these dirt cheap dumps where the word dirt in dirt cheap has got an obviuous double meaning!!!

I wanna experience the real Souteast Asia where people have not as yet been corrupted by Western greed, where the locals have not yet been poisoned by the power of money, where Farang logic has not yet invaded the Asian way of thinking.

Well think again mate! The partiach of the family managing the dumphouse hotel is smashing drunk on moonshine whiskey down in the lobby most of the time, his pot belly getting bigger each day with fermented rice liquor while sonny love in the scooter business during the day, is busy spending the dough at the local pool hall - remember the double function of a pool hall in Thailand? - during the night.

Mum never comes downstairs, way too doped up smoking Yaa-Baa up in her cockroach rife room, on her flea ridden matrass while the daughter of the family is in charge of the reception pocketing the dough quick and fast before dad can get his greedy hands on it for more riced whiskey, not much interested in cleaning rooms but always in the mood for a 300 Baht shorttimew with any of the guests.

Welcome to the Third World, mate!!!

written by  heraclio on May 10, 2009 from Krabi, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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