The end of our trip. Damneon Saduak to Bangkok
The shutters of the room had been closed and thoroughly mosquito screened. Teak, being not the least translucent, accounted for the pitch blackness we found ourselves. I woke first and, fumbling my way to the light, managed to bark my shin against something. My swearing then woke Dalma and so she started complaining. Between my swearing and her complaining we could almost have been a Mozart duet. Something from Cosi fan Tutte I imagine.
I eventually found the light and we looked at each other. Right. Coffee. Fortunately, the cafe was open and Chicken was in attendance. We had some delicious fried rice and a couple of coffees and waited.
We’d been promised an hour-long ride in one of the beautiful paddled boats that took tourists around. We didn’t often do the tourist thing, but we were determined today. Eventually, our captain paddled to the front of the cafe. We entered the boat somewhat precariously and were away.
We were so glad to have indulged in this ฿2500/AU$100 trip. The boat took us along stalls. We had a mango ice cream from one of the other boats. Dalma sweetly bought me a teacup from a riverside vendor. We had a look around the coconut factory, then paddled back. We were told it was fairly quiet today. God knows what it must be like on the weekends.
Eventually, we paddled back to the hotel and disembarked. We went for a short riverbank stroll. I had traditional Thai coffee (which was, by the way, fantastic). Then it was time to head towards Bangkok. Damneon Saduak had been the last stay before heading back to Bangkok and Australia. Our time here was nearly over.
We mounted the bikes and headed towards the increasingly busy traffic of Bangkok. A month of riding had changed Dalma’s approach. She was now filtering like a pro, squeezing into spaces that I would think twice about. We may be on Himalayans the next time we’re here, which will change things. They’re bigger and harder to filter on. But here, she was all sneaky skill.
We arrived at our rental place and handed the bikes back. It felt weird not to be mobile in Bangkok. We took an Uber to our hotel, dropped our bags, and put our motorcycle gear into the wash. (I’d hate to sit next to someone smelling of the road on a long plane journey.) While we waited, we went out to have a beer.
The hotel was near to the waterfront, and there was a bar there. We sat down and ordered. I looked around. This seemed strangely familiar. Then it hit me. In 2017, when I’d visited Mr Simmons in Bangkok after my separation, he had taken me to the very same waterfront bar to cheer me up. I was even sitting in the same seat. There was a weird synchronicity in it all.
That evening, I took Dalma to the first place I’d stayed in 1993, Khao San Road. We weren’t far. It was a Tuesday, but the place was, predictably, pumping. Dalma loved it. Bravely, she ate bugs and frogs (a particular phobia of her mum), we sat and had some mediocre Thai food, and looked at the tourists.
Travel changes you. As we sat there, I got a text from my friend Tammy in the US. She and her husband had just paid for a trip to Japan. It would be her first time in a foreign country. I asked Dalma how much she thought that would change her. She laughed. Being here again, she said, had increased her longing to just keep going, even more so than at the end of our Rajasthan trip. I understood. It had done the same for me.
For now, our time here was at an end. For the next few months at least, our trip would be relegated to an endless stream of photos on our Google Nest. And as a series of videos I’d edit down. It didn’t make it any less relevant. It acts as a reminder that this is what we do. That there’s so much of the world yet to explore. And that we’d find ourselves, once again, on the road soon.