The MUNI 33 bus during a going away passenger appreciation celebration

NextMuni.com says my bus arrives in 18 minutes and the next one comes in 32 minutes. Next I check it’s 9 minutes and 23. Then the ETA jumps up to 12/18…then 13/16…and finally 4/4. By the time I get to my stop, both buses are pulling in together. Just another typical morning waiting for the 33 in Upper Haight.

I hop on the first one, frustrated that yet again it would have been faster to drive. The bus driver apologizes, saying the two buses that were supposed to be in front of hers aren’t running today. Then she offers me my choice of wrapped candy from a dish by the fare machine and for the first time I actually look around at bus 2442 driven by Tammy.

It’s like a Fourth of July party inside Tammy’s bus. There are red white and blue streamers, balloons, coils that say “happy,” banners and party lanterns hanging from the railings. Large handwritten posters adorn the windows thanking her riders and spouting truths such as “Until MUNI realizes that without our passengers there’s no MUNI!” and pretty much everyone has a smile on their face.

The sign in front of the MUNI 33 bus

As I sit in the bus watching new passengers board, I witness a MUNI miracle: a sea of frowns turn into big grins as people enter and see what awaits them. I overhear nearly every newcomer commenting on the scene to either Tammy or their fellow straphangers. “How cool is this,” they ponder aloud. “Is this for Mother’s day?” “Is someone retiring?” “I can’t believe I got candy.” Even the woman on her cell phone discussing how her doctor just found a lump in her breast seemed upbeat, enjoying her Tootsie-Roll lollipop with her lips curled up from ear to ear.

Pretty much everyone who boarded asked Tammy a quick question about the decorations. “I just want to show appreciation for my passengers,” was her standard response. Those who pressed further often heard “If not for the passengers, drivers and managers have no job.” Tammy also was more than happy to advise passengers frustrated by the delay. “I strongly encourage you to call MUNI and complain,” was advice that seemed to be doled out at every other stop.

Tammy, the driver of the MUNI 33

The bus thinned out just before I got to my stop and I had the chance to briefly chat with Tammy and ask her what inspired her display of gratitude. “It’s for all of you. I drive this bus every morning and have the most amazing relationships with my passengers.” She next revealed that her last day is this Thursday, but when I wished her an amazing retirement she responded, “nope, not retiring, just moving to the 24 line.”

So to all you lucky folks who take the 24, please greet Tammy with a smile and enjoy the ride, because she is one of the rare gems in the MUNI system who makes the inevitable delays bearable.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

I originally wrote this post for the San Francisco Web site, Muni Diaries on May 4, 2010. Since submitting it, the story has been picked up by the San Francisco Chronical and CBS5 Web sites. In a time when MUNI is facing service cuts and fare hikes, it seems to have become a rare feel-good story about the beleaguered San Francisco public transportation system.

• SF Gate (San Francisco Chronical) coverage – if you click this one, be sure to read through all the fascinating comments about MUNI and other people’s experiences with it, both good and bad

• CBS5 coverage
• My original article, as posted at Muni Diaries

[Show as slideshow]

One of the Erawan waterfalls in the Erawan National Park

Based on the recommendation of Claire, our Scottish friend that we keep on traveling with, we went straight from the Bangkok airport to the bus station to head to Kanchanaburi, a small town on the River Kwai. We only meant to spend a couple of days there, but the laid back atmosphere and our sweet hotel room that floated on the river and had a porch with chairs and a hammock extended our stay.

Kanchanaburi itself is a sprawling town but the touristic area is limited to a long street of bars, restaurants, shops, hotels and food cart vendors. It was walking down this street on our second morning that a guy on a motorcycle stopped and said, “can I say hello?” Not wanting to deal with whatever he was selling, Carrie and I ignored him and kept walking. It wasn’t until he repeated his question and took off his helmet and sunglasses that we realized it was our couchsurfing friend Tut from Phuket. He had just quit his job at the timeshare company and was making his way to South Korea. What a small world!

Me, Carrie and Tut at the Erawan National Park

Along with Tut, we spent that evening at the night market where we wandered around sampling lots of foods and looking at all the junk for sale. The three of us also treated ourselves to massages: Tut and I got our feet done while Carrie got a full oil massage from a Lady Boy. The foot massage was quite nice and the masseuse used some form of dull pointed stick to access pressure points and kneed out knots that I had never experienced before. Very relaxing!

Waking up early the next morning, we rented a motorcycle and, with Carrie on the back, followed Tut to the Erawan National Park: home of a beautiful seven-level waterfall. Ranging in size and force, each level of the waterfall cascaded into beautiful blue pools perfect for swimming or other activities. One of the levels had a large mossy rock doubled as a water slide; we spent a lot of time there. Another highlight was swimming under a fall to get a massage from the water beating on our shoulders.

We could have spent hours at each level were it not for the little fish that bit the dead skin off of everyone’s feet when we stood still in the water for more than a second. More startling than painful, it still ensured that we didn’t stay at any one fall for too long. Fortunately, the crowds were not so bad and the higher up we went the fewer people we saw.

Shaky wooden bridges are common on the Death Railway

After saying goodbye to Tut, our next outing was a ride on the Death Railroad, which was named because of all the POW slave laborers who died building it during World War II. The trip started by going over the Bridge Over the River Kwai, which was made most famous by the old movie staring Obi Wan Kenobi himself, Alec Guiness. Carrie and I tried to watch it a couple of times before our ride but never made it past 10 minutes.

Death Railway chugged along for more than two hours, passing by streams, mountains and large caverns that had been dynamited out by the POWs. At some points the side of the train was literally inches from the face of the jagged cliff. We crossed a handful of rickety wood bridges over deep chasms and even went through a few tunnels. When the train reached the destination, we quickly hopped out and got a bus back to Kanchanaburi, finding it  just a bit silly that on one of our few days of not moving around we spent our time on two unnecessary forms of transportation.

Most of the rest of our time in Kanchanaburi was spent relaxing on our porch, wandering the main street, catching up on some much needed writing and photo sorting and eating lots of meals from an delicious and cheap local restaurant where we befriended the entire staff. My favorite part was playing paper airplanes with their two year old daughter while waiting for amazing pad thais and curries.

Hard at work either writing or editing photos on a sleeper seat that we didn't pay for

As always, trying to get information on traveling like a local from locals was like pulling teeth. For those who managed to actually get on a local bus they had to face super inflated prices, dangers and the occasional incident with police. Fortunately, for once we weren’t trying to travel like locals, as we only had 18 days to see the entire country and couldn’t waste the time. So, for $34 per person, we bought the open bus ticket that let us get on and off at six different destinations while traveling the 1000+ mile stretch between Ho Chi Min (Saigon) in the south and Hanoi in the north.

Buses ranged in duration from a few hours to overnight. They could be nice comfy AC ones just as easily as a teeny minibuses that crammed people, bags and even a motorbike into the seating area. The worst ride we had was an overnight one where we were in the front row behind the driver. There was no leg room and I was forced to rest my feet on either a fire extinguisher or the driver’s toothbrush holder all night.

Carrie and I in a cyclo taxi (xemo) in Hue

When I did manage to fall asleep, I was woken up every few minutes by the sound of a horn: either ours or that of another driver. When I would open my eyes for a second I usually saw the bright headlights of oncoming traffic heading right at us from the driver’s window. I guess passing cars when he didn’t have enough time or space to do so and driving in the shoulder of the wrong lane was how he stayed awake all night.

On another sleeper bus the seats in front of us reclined so far that the only position I could sleep in was with my body completely straight, bracing myself against the wheel hump on the floor in front of me. At one point it was so uncomfortable that I took my blanket and slept on the floor for the rest of the night.

Cyclos
Buses aside, the other transportation method we used was the cyclo. Propelled by a Vietnamese man on a bicycle, it is a variation of your classic bike rickshaw. The seats are big enough for one person to fit comfortably, though locals often cram whole families onto one cyclo. As for us, we managed to both get into one only once. The other times they told us we were too big and had to take two. Really, they just wanted more money.

Motos after a stoplight in Ho Chi Min...also look at the insane wiring above the road

I learned how to drive a car in New York City rush hour traffic. I learned how to ride a scooter on the dirt roads and busy streets of India. So, it only made sense that I teach myself (with lots of help from Carrie) how to ride a proper motorcycle in Vietnam: one of the most dangerous places to ride in the world. Never having driven a stick shift car (successfully), I had to learn how the concept of gears at the same time as trying to steer clear of the constant flow of traffic.

My first day driving, fortunately, was in the quite town of Mui Ne, which was pretty empty. Unfortunately, shortly into my first day of driving we were hit by monsoon rains. I got the bike home with no problem but got soaked in the process. Next, I took it into the hilly mountains of Da Lat and had a quick crash course on how to use gears on steep inclines. Finally, we took another motorcycle out to explore Na Trang: a busy beach town. This was my favorite, as we returned to the hotel in the middle of rush hour traffic and I got to put my new skills to the test.

Traffic in Vietnam is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Stop lights are few and far between and motorcycles outnumber everything else. Intersections are the craziest, with all modes of transportation converging together and having a giant game of “who goes first.” Somehow, with a lot of honking, everyone gets their chance to go. Moto drivers tend to let the bigger vehicles go first, but at any given time another bike, car, pedestrian, cow or whatever can jump right out in front. I swear, crossing the street should be an Olympic sport.

Really, the whole thing is quite beautiful: like a noisy dance with a chance of an accident. I never dared to drive in Hanoi or Ho Chi Min, as they take the traffic to a whole new level, but I think I could have done it.

Crossing the street is terrifying in Ho Chi Min

A Cambodian tuk tuk

The primary way for both tourists and locals to get around the country is via air conditioned bus. These range from deluxe first class to ones where the AC barely works. Either way, there is not much to write about these as anyone who has ever taken a long distance bus can picture the inside easily. Perhaps the only noteworthy part is the fact that loud Cambodian karaoke videos are blasting over the speaker system for most of the ride.

As for the Cambodian tuk tuk, it differs a bit from any I have seen in other countries. The actual carriage part is attached to a standard motorcycle by a clamp that straps onto the middle of the bike seat. The carriage can move from left to right but has a slight delay from when the bike actually makes the move first. It is also far less stable than other tuk tuks, as if the motorcycle falls over, it will take the carriage with it.

In the middle of a monsoon this poor woman had to leave a hospital on the back of a motorcycle while holding an IV in Kratie

We knew that we were going to be traveling during monsoon season but, up until arriving at Kratie, it had never affected our plans. However, shortly after arriving the deluge began and we had no choice but to hole up in our hotel for the night instead of doing our planned activities. This was a big bummer, as our schedule had us on the first bus out the next morning and the town became a casualty of war.

The next day our early morning bus took us to Phnom Penh, the capital, where we had to drop off our passports at the Vietnam embassy to get a visa. We originally thought the process would take a long time and we would have to spend the night but it took less than five minutes.

At this point we decided to try and make the last bus of the day to Siem Reap that was leaving in 10 minutes on the other side of town. A taxi or tuk tuk would never make it so we hopped on the back of motorcycle taxis and sped off. Weaving in and out of traffic we narrowly avoided cars, trucks and other motos…but we made it on time. And then the rain began.

On the back of a motorcycle taxi trying to make a bus leaving in 10 minutes on the other side of Phnom Penh

We finally made it to Siem Reap at nearly 10pm after leaving Kratie at 7am and hopped into a motorcycle tuk tuk to take us to our hotel. The monsoon rains were still falling and halfway into our ride the moto started to skid out in the mud. Bags went flying out of the open sides as we slipped down a small hill: the driver trying hard to get the vehicle under control.

We finally came to an abrupt stop and got off to reclaim our bags and survey the damage. No one was hurt and everything seemed fine until I discovered what actually caused the tuk tuk to stop: my DSLR camera backpack wedged under the wheel! We won’t go into the mini-freak out I had but when we finally arrived at the hotel I got to survey the damage.

Looking at my stuff I realized that the wheel had come to rest right on top of my big super zoom lens. Fortunately, I had a filter attached to the front of it that absorbed most of the damage. The filter glass had shattered and the ring that screws onto the actual lens was badly bent and could not be removed, but the lens itself still worked. To this day the filter ring is still on there and a few shards of glass remain. Guess it’s something I have to take care of when I get home.

A house on stilts outside the flooded forest of Kompong Pluk in Siem Reap

One of the main attractions in Siem Reap, other than Angkor Wat, is a boat ride through the Flooded Forest and stilted village of Kompong Pluk. Located on the banks of a river that leads into a lake, the entire forest is flooded annually by the monsoon rains to the point where only the tops of the trees are visible. All houses in the village are built on high stilts that protect them from the rising waters.

Depending on the time of year there are two possible ways to get to the tour boat. During the monsoon season the water is high enough that a tuk tuk can drop tourists off at the side of the river where the boat waits. If it is dry season the river begins much further back. As such, the tuk tuk drops people off in a small town before transferring to the back of a motorcycle to drive down a bumpy dirt road to where the river is high enough for the boat to pick up passengers.

Our experience was neither of these, but we’ll get to that in a minute. Originally we wanted to do something else that day, but the hard sell of our driver/guide convinced us that this three hour tour was the way to go. So we hopped into his tuk tuk and after a brief stop for tire air and gas (bought from a shack on the side of the road and poured from a whiskey bottle) we were on our way.

High fives with the local kids in a village outside the flooded forest

A short while later while driving down a very rural road we heard the unmistakable sound of a flat tire and had to stop again, this time in front of someone’s house that happened to have an air pump. We sat there for nearly a half hour while they tried everything to repair the tube before eventually replacing it. While waiting, I tried my hardest to befriend a dozen curious but shy local children by making faces, playing peek-a-boo and more. In the end, I won them over with high-fives and by the time we left they were all smiling and waving and high-fiving each other.

Back on track, despite nonstop rain over the past few days, the monsoon season was still young enough that we had drive over the dirt road to reach the far away boat dock. So, at our next stop Carrie and I hopped onto the backs of two separate motorcycles driven by our guide and his younger brother and headed out. The tuk tuk remained behind for yet another tire repair.

While there were a few puddles in the dirt road, there was enough space for the bikes to maneuver around them with little effort…at least in the beginning. As the drive continued the puddles became more frequent and the dirt road got more muddy. One puddle was actually more of a pool and, with no way to get around it, we drove through water at least two feet deep that engulfed half of the motorcycle and reached my shins.

By the time we passed the pool puddle the road was entirely mud. Still, our drivers pressed on: slipping and sliding the whole time. The bikes were all over the road and, despite his best efforts, my bike slid out and fell four times. Fortunately, falling off a bike in a mud pit is more funny than painful so it really wasn’t bad. As for Carrie, I guess the younger brother was a better driver because he didn’t fall once.

The road we had to walk through for a mile to get to our boat to head to the flooded forest of Kompong Pluk in Siem Reap

Not wanting to turn around, we kept going until a local man told our drivers that the road got even worse up ahead and we could not possibly make it on the bikes. So, with no other choice, we took off our flip flops and began to walk the final mile barefoot.

At first the walk was no problem; I even had fun sloshing around in the mud. However, shortly after we began walking the road dried up and became hot and hard. Making matters worse were the tire tracks all over the road that had hardened and become razor sharp. Needless to say, it went from a fun walk to a painful one very quickly.

Laughing at the absurdity of our tour was the only way I made it through the experience, but finally, about 30 minutes after we got off the bikes, we arrived at the dock. Here, our driver handed us off to the boat captain (a 12 year old boy) and the pilot (his 10 year old younger brother).

The boat tour itself was outstanding, even if the water level only flooded the trees half way up. I went nuts taking photos of the village on stilts, which was on a scale the likes of which I have never seen before. The entire village is based around the river that floods every year and boats are the only way to get from one side to the other.

Buddhist celebration in the streets of Kompong Pluk in Siem Reap

Sadly, the villagers have tourism down to a science. At one point, a woman jumped onto our boat and got me to buy 10 notebooks to donate to the school children. When she got off there were four other women waiting to do the same thing who were disappointed to find that she had beaten them to the punch.

After spending a few minutes in the middle of a lake we were dropped off in the actual village for a walk/tour. How surprised were we to find a Buddhist celebration going on and a parade winding it’s way thorough the street. Townsfolk were all dressed up in their Sunday best, music and speaking blasted from a loudspeaker and everyone had a big smile.

The inside of the monastery in Kompong Pluk in Siem Reap where Buddhist monks are about to enter a three month period of isolation and silence

All around, people hoisted up money trees and other gifts for a group of monks about to enter a three month period of silence and isolation. We followed the parade to a temple atop a hill where the monks sat accepting the donations while villagers banged ceremonial drums as loud and hard as possible. The scene was amazing and the people were super friendly, though it was very awkward when I had to give out the books.

Originally, I thought we were going to walk into a classroom and just hand the teacher a stack of notebooks. However, due to the celebration the kids were all in the street. So, at the urging of the girl who sold me the notebooks, I stood there and handed them. One by one, kids came up, accepted the books, bowed their heads and said thanks. The whole thing seemed incredibly fake and scripted and I was so glad when I got rid of the last book because it was also very awkward. Like, are these kids actually going to use them? Do they want them? Is the girl going to take the books back to sell to the next boat of tourists? I don’t know nor do I want to.

Coming down the river at the flooded forest of Kompong Pluk in Siem Reap

Waving goodbye to the townsfolk, we got back onto the boat for our walk back to the motorcycles. However, upon returning to land we were happy to find that our guide had found someone to drive us back to where our bikes were waiting. So, Carrie and I hopped on back of the best driver in town’s (according to our guide) bike and were amazed as he easily navigated through the mud and dry patches. The only problem with the ride was that the best path to drive on was right next to a wall of spiky bushes that often whacked us in the face, arms and legs. Still, we were too busy laughing at the absurdity of it all to care.

Once back on our original bikes, the rest of the return trip was much the same as the trip out there. Lots of slipping and sliding, another trip through the pool puddle and a few near falls. By the time we got back to the village and boarded the finally-repaired tuk tuk the sun was already setting, filling the sky with an awesome display of oranges, reds and blues. We finally pulled into our hotel after dark, having spent double the forecasted time on the tour and full of memories to last a lifetime.

A boat ride through the village on stilts next to the Flooded Forest of Kompong Phhluk

Buddha celebration at the village on stilts next to the Flooded Forest of Kompong Phhluk

The inside of a sleeper bus

Tourist Travel: Buses, Sleeper Buses and Minivans
Like most countries, Laos offers tourists pre-packaged ways to get from one popular destination to the next at a price way higher than local transportation. The advantage of taking one of these AC minivans or comfy first class buses is that they pick you up at your guesthouse and take care of all transfers along the way.

Overnight trips are taken on sleeper buses that literally have beds instead of seats. Some beds are big enough for one, others have space for two, though barely. The twin beds are very narrow and too short to lay straight on the back. This worked out fine for Carrie and I since we just curled into a ball and fell asleep next to each other, but we know some people traveling alone who got stuck with random strangers in their bed.

A local Laos bus

While we sometimes took the packaged buses, we also tried to do it ourselves in order to pay less and travel like the locals. While we always got to our destination, we often found that it took far longer, was more uncomfortable and cost just about as much. We still got the foreigner price, even on local transportation, and got none of the frills. Still, that didn’t stop us from trying.

Songthaew:
Take an oversized, rickety and old flatbed truck. Put benches on either side of the cab and possibly a third bench in the middle. Then put a canopy attached to poles overhead and cram on as many people as humanly possible. That’s a songthaew and the most common way to travel as these are the only public buses offered. Bags, chickens, bikes and anything else people carry are placed on the roof or tied to the rear bumper, which usually has an extended grate for stepping or storing.

Carrie squeezes into a Songthaw

On one particularly uncomfortable three hour ride from Champasak to the 4,000 Islands we joined 21 other people in the back of a songthaew, bumping our way over potholes and dirt roads. Tied to the back bumper were about a dozen pigs in a wicker basket and a few more stuffed into sacks: all tied down with rope, squealing and sending their stink wafting into the songthaew. I had a guy next to me for a while who used me as a pillow. Carrie was pointed at and discussed in the local language for a few minutes after we got on. Best of all, we paid as much as we would have if we had taken the AC bus. Gotta love traveling!

In towns there are other types of songthaews that are a hybrid of pickup truck and tuk tuk. Maybe 10 feet long, they run on three wheels, have a single seat up front for the driver and a cab-like back with benches on either side. They hold less people than their truck counterparts and go way slower, which is why they are not used for long distances.

A Laos tuk tuk

Tuk Tuk:
Aside from the songthaew tuk tuk, Laos also has smaller versions of these popular Asian taxis. Still using only three wheels, the driver sits on what looks like the front half of a motorcycle (it is also driven like one) with an area to put his feet. The back part has two benches like a songthaew but is significantly smaller and can fit only four people (as long as they don’t have bags) comfortably…or as comfortably as one can sit on a wooden bench in a vehicle with no shocks.

Boats:
With the Mekong running through the entire country as well as tons of other rivers and lakes, boat travel is very popular in Laos. Options range from speedboats to ferries, motorized canoes, barges and even a long wooden boat big enough for hundreds. But more on that later.

Street vendors selling chicken, drinks and more surround our sangthaw in southern Laos

One of the slow boats on the Mekong River

The Mekong River is the lifeblood of Laos, running through most of the country and providing resources for more than 50 million people. The shores are filled with villages, farms, boats and locals going about their daily lives. A glance into the horizon reveals beautiful mountain ranges, rock formations, blue skies and more. What better way to take it all in than a two day slow boat ride from Houayxai to Louang Prabang.

Filled with all Western tourists except for one Lao family and a few monks, our boat the first day was long, narrow, wooden and reminded me of a short ceilinged hallway. Our seats switched between the floor and thatched wooden chairs, as all of the comfy bus seat chairs were taken before we got in. The scene on the boat reminded us of a bar, as many travelers spent the day boozing it up on Beer Lao, singing and mingling. In fact, the most popular meeting spot was the line for the toilet.

An old man on a boat on the Mekong River, Laos

While the party raged around us we relaxed in our chairs, watching the world go by. Fishing was a common theme as many local fishermen sat in small dinghies with bamboo fishing poles waiting for a tug. Others cast out nets to catch their day’s meal while others still just placed their fishing poles on rocks with a line in the water and left them there until later.

Every few hours the boat would stop on the shore somewhere to drop off something being ferried on the roof or to pick up more cold beer and we would be invaded by hordes of vendors: usually children. The boat was quickly filled with the sounds of “chips, coca cola, Beer Lao, pineappllllllle?” Literally, they were selling the same goods as the boat had for sale but for some reason they made a killing and left with their baskets empty.

The town of Louang Prabang with the Mekong River running through it

Eight hours after leaving Houayxai we arrived in Pakbeng, a river town whose sole means of income seems to be the daily stop over of hundreds of westerns. There is one street that makes its way up a hill and features nothing but guesthouses, restaurants and little stores. While I’m sure that there is a whole other side to the town, it is one that tourists never get to see. After getting off the boat and a mad dash to find a cheap and good guesthouse, we spent the evening wandering around before the power went off at 10pm, as it does every night.

Day two of our boat ride began with a surprise: the two boats leaving that morning had been consolidated into one. So, instead of leg and walking room we now had more than 100 people crammed into a space big enough to fit maybe half of that comfortably. Our seats for the next seven hours were benches with little leg room and, although the scenery continued to be stunning, we were very ready to be done with the trip by the time we got off at Louang Prabang.

A panoramic view of the Mekong River from the slow boat including a look inside

Carrie walks into the Thailand section of the border

With our new friends Claire and Karen in tow, Carrie and I left the Perhentian Islands in Malaysia at 7:30am to head to Koh Phangan, Thailand, for the Full Moon Party. Referred to as the best and biggest party in the world, we had based our entire schedule for Malaysia and Singapore around getting to the party. It was something that we just had to experience. Little did we know that getting there would be an experience all in itself.

Our day began with a quick boat “taxi” to the speedboat ferry that would take us from the Perhentians back to the mainland. From there we hired a proper taxi to take the four of us to the Thailand border at Sungai Kolok. Getting our passport stamped to leave Malaysia was quick and painless. Getting into Thailand was not.

Checking to make sure no on has swine flu before entering Thailand

First we had to undergo a health check, which involved filing out a form swearing that we had no swine flu symptoms and getting our temperature checked. After mine came out at 36.7 degrees Celsius the nurse showed it to me and said, “very close.” I freaked out a bit until I saw the sign that said 38 was the minimum for concern. What was she scaring me for?!

Next we had to wait on a long and hot line to get our passports stamped with our Thai visas. While waiting, a money changer approached me and tried to give me a terrible exchange rate. As everything does, it turned into a little scene that ended with me refusing to give him my money.

The encounter did have a positive effect though, as Reuben, a Spaniard traveling alone and standing behind me in the line, asked me why I didn’t want to change money with that guy. We continued to talk about traveling and soon established that he too was going to the party without pre-booked accommodation. And just like that we had a fifth member of our crew.

The full moon gang (from the left: Claire, Karen, Reuben, Carrie and Me)

After successfully getting through the border check and entering Thailand we found that the train station we needed for the next leg of our journey was about 4 kilometers away. There were no car taxis anywhere so we had no choice but to all hop on the back of motorcycle taxis with our big bags. For ten minutes we caravanned through the streets of Sungai Kolok: waving, hooting and hollering at each other. Depending on whom you ask it was either a fun or terrifying experience; Claire said she had never been more scared in her life!

Safely arriving at the train station and buying our tickets to Surat Thani, we joined a train full of other Western travelers heading to the same place. The ride was long, dusty, hot and highly entertaining. Reuben was sitting next to a Thai who was drinking beer for 10 hours straight. Karen and Claire drank whisky with a Thai police officer in the food car. Carrie and I met an army officer who loves scuba diving as much as we do. Good times were had by all.

The sleeping quarters on board the overnight ferry to Koh Phangan

We finally arrived at Surat Thani at around 9pm and quickly started looking for cabs to take us to the boat dock. However, we had somehow picked up a straggler (we’ll call him San Diego because that’s where he’s from and I don’t know his name) who invited himself into our group to try and save money on the cab. He alternated between making sure to latch onto us and trying to find his own cheap deal. In the end he tagged along with us, which made us need two cabs instead of one and we all had to pay an extra 10 bhat for helping him. No problem, I would hope the same would happen to me in that situation.

The boat, which doubled as a cargo ship filled with food, beer and other dry goods, wound up costing double the normal price due to the party. The inside was lined with mattresses both on the floor and elevated in the aisles. Everyone had an assigned spot, though we did have to kick a few sleeping locals out of our beds after playing cards until nearly 1am. It took a while, but we all finally fell asleep to the rocking of the sea.

We made it!

Arriving at 5:30am, we were awoken by the sounds of the ship’s horns and countless taxi drivers on the jetty shouting “good morning! You want taxi? Where you go?” through the boat’s windows. Still groggy, we had no choice but to enter the taxi gauntlet waiting for us and try and figure out where we were headed. Not surprisingly, it was at this point that San Diego reappeared after being MIA all night and tagged along with us. Our destination: a hotel with a room big enough for six.

The epilogue to the story is that Claire’s place didn’t work out but we did find a wonderful AC room that we could cram the original five into. San Diego had been both trying to find his own place and make sure to stick with us all morning just in case, so we were a-ok with him doing his own thing. We even helped find him a cheap single room, but were completely done with him. Finally, at around 8:30am we all plopped into our beds and passed out.

Final tally
1 train ride
1 motorcycle taxi
3 car taxis
3 boats
26 hours of travel

Views from the back of our motorcycle taxi to the train station

The scene on the dock when our boat arrived at the full moon party at 530am