Adventures at the Bus Stop

After leaving Immigration, I hailed a santheaw to the bus station, where I was directed to the bench in the side of the road. I was told that the next bus would arrive in half an hour, at 12:30 p.m. I thanked the man and headed to the bus stop (but not after emailing a quick note to my parents to let them know that I had made it across the border and back safely).

12:30 came and went and I decided to get lunch from the nearby food staff while I wanted. Figuring that since I am now on my own, out from the protective environment of the CCS house, I should try to get by using less English and more Thai, I ordered my lunch in Thai (Kor ka-pow gai noi, ka) and returned to the bus stop to wait. And wait. And wait.

Around 1:00, having eaten and had a brief conversation with a man waiting for the bus, who, although he nodded affirmatively to my confession that I only spoke a little Thai, talked to me non-stop in Thai for about 15 minutes (I guess my active listen skills are very convincing). As I took out my Thai phrase book, deciding to get in a little study time, I was approached by three high-school aged Thai girls, who politely asked if they could interview me for a project. I agreed and they proceeded to ask me, in English, my name, where I was from, why I was in Ranong, my favorite Thai food, and my opinion of Thailand. Apparently, one of the high school classes in Ranong had all been given this assignment, because for the next hour I was approached by four other students wanting similar interviews.

On a less positive note, the Thai man who had spoken with me earlier had a woman with him who was very affectionate to him, which was strange to see in that public displays of affection between middle aged Thais is uncommon if not nonexistent. At one point, I heard a slapping sound and looked up to see what could have been him retracting his hand after delivering a slap. She didn't seem upset, so I wrote it off as a mistaken assumption, but it happened again at least twice in the next few minutes, each time without me actually witnessing the slap. It occurred to me that his could very possibly be the couple from this morning, but she didn't look like she had been recently battered. Another explanation could be that such domestic violence is more common, and accepted(?) than I had thought. I realized that there is probably a lot that I missed in my sheltered existence at CCS.

Finally at 2:00, the man who sold me my lunch and a taxi driver who had joked with me about driving me to Chai Ya to the temple for 1800 baht, both yelled out, "Surat, Surat, Farang, Farang" to alert me to the fact that my bus had arrived. I smiled and thanked them all and boarded my fifth mode of transportation for the day.

The bus to Chai Ya was not much more than a tin can on wheels posing as a local bus. The impact of every stone on the ride from Ranong to Chai Ya made its way up through the shock deprived body of the bus into my bones with every turn of the wheels. Larger rocks, caused the seats to rattle on their frames as if they would come unattached and splay all over the road with the wreckage of what used to be the body of the bus, at any moment. But after my journey and successive morning trips, exhausted and dirty, I simply laid back on my padded bench for three, put on my head phones, fashioned a raincoat pillow for my head and smiled content with myself for a productive day and feeling very much suited to this crazy, unpredictable life on the road.