Lankamale: A fantTHAIstic trip!

Straight from the travel tales of

The floating market, the Erawan waterfalls and the ruins of Ayutthaya

For Vlao it is not easy, after a long intercontinental journey, to present himself to his companions proposing straight away, brutally, without mercy, a departure at seven in the morning. But he has valid reasons on his side and, to convey them to the others, he decides to avail himself of a good dinner and a quick stop at the Sky Bar a stone's throw from the hotel. The carrot-and-stick tactic bears fruit and the golden mango that closes the meal, combined with the view from the terrace overlooking the city, makes the Gruppothai digest the severe morning alarm. With this choice Vlao stakes a large part of his credibility; arriving after the train at the market on the Maeklong tracks despite the early rise would be a failure, but as Ligabue says, "whoever is content enjoys...

so-so" so it is automatic that the Gruppothai's programme cannot be limited to the floating market alone, but must dare more! Having forcibly crammed the luggage into the minibus, we set off like a cannonball, trusting in the driving of good God, that's the name of our first driver, whose goal is to get ahead of the legendary train, which according to the TreniThai timetables is due to arrive at 8:30. Fortunately, on the way everything goes smoothly and there is even time for a walk among the stalls before the appearance of the pendolino makes all the merchandise retreat in a flash for the nimble hawkers.

Once the stalls are restored it is time to set off again towards Damnoen Saduak, the floating market, through whose canals we will race with two long boats equipped with the typical road-derived engine combined with a long rudder at the end of which a voracious propeller spins menacingly. In the floating chaos, we bargain for fresh fruit and take photos trying to dodge the forest of tourists that populates the canals. Even though over time it will certainly have lost part of its authenticity, this place still leaves no one indifferent. We go with God towards the new stage, the Erawan park where there is a chance to cool off properly with a nice dip at the 5th level, complete with little fish hungry for the dead skin of our sweaty feet.

Our Sardinian cashier, Jean, turns out to be a possessed bather and starts diving off the steps, heedless of the sharp rocks that might be hidden under the water. When the park rangers order us to go, we get dressed again and continue our itinerary which includes the conquest of the ancient capital of Siam: Ayutthaya. Having found our hotel by a miracle, we gorge ourselves in a typical restaurant of the area that offers no fewer than four dishes: large spicy chicken soup, large not spicy chicken soup, small spicy chicken soup and small not spicy chicken soup. Unfortunately the steamed dumplings pictured in the menu are sold out. We choose the dishes amid general indecision and, since no beers are served in the place, the staff advise us to turn to the ever-present Seven Eleven for the alcoholic beverage.

The derisory bill barely dents the common fund, but has scarce effects also on the stomach of the most voracious who opt, without thinking too much about it, for a second dinner before reaching the hotel. The ruins of Ayutthaya bear witness to the glorious past of these places and the morning visit among the various sites offers an excellent set for the project that our companion from Ravenna, Davide, wants to complete by the end of the trip, portraying Laura in 10,000 different locations. When the sun begins to become too scorching for our pale faces it means the time has come to go; another long stage awaits us; the next night we will sleep in Sukhothai!

By bike in Sukhothai and then off to Chiang Mai Leaving Ayutthaya behind we travel towards the intermediate stop of Lopburi with our full-optional minibus equipped with leather seats, air conditioning, bluetooth connection, a 2,000-watt surround system and psychedelic lighting. We take advantage of the stop at the temple invaded by the monkeys of Prang Sam Yod to let Jean browse properly and to allow our Brexit friends, Matache and LittleLaura, to change their pounds at a local bank. The employees are a bit bewildered in front of this arcane currency, so much so that to classify it correctly they compare the banknotes with those photocopied in the young money changer's big manual. Once it is established that they are pounds and not euros, the operation proceeds slowly, involving the signing of an amount of paperwork worthy of a mortgage.

Once the operation is completed we continue towards Sukhothai to the notes of Italian hipster singer-songwriter songs provided by our moustachioed dj Fernet. Having reached the destination, the cordial owner of our guesthouse provides us in record time with our pedal-powered vehicles with which we dash off to feast inside the historic site just in time to enjoy the sun's farewell to the ancient ruins. The bike ride stimulates a slight appetite which we immediately crush with a sumptuous dinner in one of the restaurants in the area. The usual traditional Thai dishes with some fusion drifts, such as the curry pizza that our Alice has the courage to taste.

Some of us are positively impressed by the paintings hanging on the walls, and the after-dinner is dedicated to bargaining with the painter who, following the lavish income from the copious sales, treats us to a round of Hong Tong, a famous whiskey of terrible quality made in Thailand. Invigorated by the alcohol we take a stroll in the centre and decide, to the great satisfaction of Martimarti, to try the notorious Thai massage. We invade the massage centre but, since manpower is scarce, the owner is forced to mobilise the whole village with a quick round of phone calls and, in a few moments, we all have our feet soaking in water and lime. Once stretched out on the little beds we enjoy the treatment, a fitting epilogue for an intense day.

The new day opens with a foray by bicycle through the historic park of Sukhothai; we visit temples and ancient palaces taking a thousand photos of the giant buddha statues that watch us suspiciously from above. Continuing our journey north we stop at Lampang where we enter the Wat Phra That Lampang Luang walking the characteristic staircase of the two dragons and we stop at Lamphun where we visit the Wat Phra That Hariphunchai with its golden chedi that we circumnavigate barefoot in a strict clockwise direction. Having arrived in Chiang Mai we freshen up a bit and decide to go all together to the Night market. As predicted, 10 metres are enough for Vlao to lose the reins of the group which crumbles into eleven pieces among the sellers of various trinkets, making the "dismiss!" inevitable.

At the end of the evening everyone, more or less, manages to return safe and sound to the hotel; the experience teaches, however, that explaining to tuk tuk drivers where the Grace's boutique house is is not an easy task and from the next day it becomes clearer what the usefulness is of always carrying the hotel's business card!

Doi Suthep, Masterchef Thailand and the Trek

The adventure traveller is used to being on the move, and is at ease with the daily migration from one little hotel to another. Once he has taken possession of the room he places his luggage in a corner and takes out only the outfit for the night and the possible change for the next day, while leaving everything else untouched. Sleeping two nights in the same place, however, throws him into crisis. The urge to tidy up, to separate the dirty shirts from the clean ones, the used underwear from the new, the smelly socks from the scented ones, means that, by a strange law of physics, the volume of the clothes inexplicably rises so much as to make the backpack insufficient to contain everything again. This is the syndrome of the dismemberment of the backpack, which punctually, even this time, strikes the whole group in the atypical "prolonged" stay in Chiang Mai.

No one talks about it, but already at breakfast in front of the bacon&eggs or the pancake&banana, one glimpses in the eyes of the pax the big problem they have left unresolved in the room. But this is something that will have to be resolved in the late evening; now it is time to face the long staircase that leads us towards the temple of Doi Suthep which, thanks to a providential passion fruit juice with seeds included, we manage to climb without any hesitation. Vlao doesn't miss the chance to bargain the free tour leader also for the entrance to the temple and, mission accomplished, gives the go-ahead for the dispersion in the site that from the top of the hill dominates the valley.

Once the visit is completed, we collect our shoes and return to the city, not before having stopped at the orchid garden and the butterfly farm which, as the most interesting thing, offers a sumptuous buffet where we refresh ourselves properly. Part of the group decides to spend the afternoon attending a Thai cooking lesson. In the company of an American bunch and the likeable German Michael, the novice cooks tried their hand at preparing various typical dishes, from the legendary pad thai, companion of a thousand dinners, to the sophisticated green curry soup, from the legendary spring rolls to the libidinous dessert based on sticky rice and mango.

With the help of chef Arty, after having become familiar with the strange vegetables on sale at the market, the students poured into a classroom worthy of Masterchef Thailand where for three hours they chopped, cut, sautéed, tossed in the pan, spatulated, rolled, browned and finally plated their productions, before gobbling them down in one of the best dinners of the whole trip! A pleasant experience also useful for getting to know new strange ingredients, some of which can also be found in Italy by searching well among the shelves of the "ethnic" shops of the worst districts of your city. Once the culinary interlude is positively archived it is time to face the tough part of the trip, the dreaded trekking.

Before sweating the proverbial seven shirts, however, there is also time to have some fun: a quiet walk on elephant back and some hilarious rafting are ideal to raise the morale of the gang a bit before the effort. The challenge with paddles between the three crews set up for the occasion is without holding back. Every dirty trick is fair and, in this respect, Davide shows he has an extra gear and deserves ad honorem the golden oar for "having got off the dinghy dragging the boat and the rest of the crew over the rocks in order to gain precious positions". Once the scuffle in the water is over, the time for the real physical test arrives. The constant climb to reach the remote hilltop village is selective, and here too the competitive spirit of the group comes out.

At first it all seems easy for the bold young people of the Gruppothai who break away and set off at a brisk pace, but in the end, against all predictions, it will be the seniors MariaGi and Nerino who celebrate, thanks also to experience (halfway through they dump a backpack on a boy who was coming up on a moped, ed.) arriving first at the village. After waiting half an hour to recover the half of the group that took the wrong road trying to avoid a menacing pack of kids accompanied by a babysitter armed with a rifle, we can take possession of our stilt house from whose terrace we admire the lush nature that surrounds us and the distant valley where the river flows placidly, the one on which we competed to the death.

After the dinner prepared by our crazy guide Jo, we have fun drawing abstract pictures with the felt-tip pens before going to bed in our dormitory to recover a bit of strength... before the rooster crows...

Chiang Rai, the White Temple and everyone to the sea I'd like to know who spreads the rumour that roosters crow at dawn... those of this remote little village must be strange, but here at three in the morning it is already chaos. Whoever was worried about bothersome snorers now, instead, has these roosters to deal with. To wake us up, therefore, the sun is not needed and we enjoy breakfast at the first light of dawn. Before descending to the valley we walk in the little village and interact with the shy inhabitants who, this time unarmed, even give us a few smiles. The descent is steep and also a bit rough and leads us to a small waterfall, nothing compared to the big waterfall of Vlao who risks his physical safety slipping between two sharp rocks.

Having reached the minibus safe and sound, we archive the naturalistic part of the trip and continue our run towards Chiang Rai where, as an absolute priority, we must obtain a stop pupu medicine for Matach. To overcome the language barriers a good imitation and a few onomatopoeic sounds are enough and even the Thai pharmacist on duty understands immediately what we need. In this northern city we absolutely must attend the sound and light show of the clock tower and we do so by having dinner in a place that is too touristy for our standards, an occasion that Nerino exploits to the max to order a nice plate of spaghetti with ketchup. Before going to bed we also treat ourselves to a stop at the cat bar where, seated at low tables, we enjoy a little dessert and a matcha tea while the strange felines around us seem to snub us greatly.

The new day opens with the visit to the White Temple, a construction of modern times, begun in the nineties and which, in the style of the Sagrada Familia, has a planned completion date set for 2070. This temple is full of kitsch details, such as hands emerging from the ground, dragons, skulls, but it offers the best inside, where the visionary architect/painter Chalermchai Kositpipat masterfully brings the sacred together with the profane. Buddha vs the rest of the world with apocalyptic scenes adorning the interiors: missiles, spaceships, skeletons, Bush, Bin Laden, Batman, Spider-Man, Elvis, characters from Matrix, Avatar and even Pikachu. Once the psychedelic binge is digested we move on to the more classic Blue Temple before stopping at the golden triangle, the characteristic point where the river forms the border between Thailand, Burma and Laos.

We manage to board a long boat and after a short navigation on the Mekong, we disembark in Laos. After convincing customs to let Jean pass, despite his photocopied passport, we wander around the Laotian market sipping scorpion grappa and buying glasses and bags presumably fake. We return to our beloved Chiang Mai, where by now we even recognise the rats in the street, and spend the last evening at the usual night market where we have a lovely evening sipping an inimitable Mai Lao while enjoying the live music of Thai rock bands. In the morning we still have time for one last tour of a market; among the stalls we look for the ingredients to reproduce Arty's recipes at home, dried prawns, noodles, Oyster sauce, and other smelly potions, but in the end we just stock up on the legendary soup spoons which we can no longer do without.

At midday an AirAsia flight takes us to Krabi and from there, after a few hours, we are at Ko Lanta, base camp for the maritime part of our holiday. All that remains is to settle into our sea-side bungalows and study what to do...

The Andaman Sea, Ko Lanta and Phi Phi Finally the sea... the Andaman sea! We immediately get familiar with Klong Nin Beach, our long beach. We immediately take a dip and then think about dinner. We don't want to hear about pad thai any more, we learned the recipe in the masterchef course and we will reproduce it at home in due course; now we are more attracted by fish! Vlao and Fernet go on a scouting mission and take on the responsibility of negotiating for the group. Searching among the various restaurants they choose the one whose fish counter has fewer flies than the others. After a long negotiation with the griller the two reach an agreement for a menu based on strangely coloured fish, king prawns and boiled potatoes.

It's true, the service leaves a bit to be desired, but due to a sudden bereavement, this is the official explanation, the griller had to leave the charcoal at the crucial moment and the staff, consequently, found themselves in a bit of difficulty. The delay, however, made us fully enjoy the show of the fire eater, a classic of the riviera that entertained us during the long wait. On the first day at sea we decide to rent a local boat, one of those with the "viking" prow and the rainbow scarf around the neck. Our crew takes us to admire four little islands near Ko Lanta and, after an hour of navigation and with our ears ringing, we are ready to put on the garb of divers and with mask and snorkel descend below sea level in search of the local fauna.

For lunch we anchor at Ko Ngai and, on its Maldives-style sand, we refresh ourselves while waiting for the visit to the hidden beach, a cove accessible only by swimming through a dark 80-metre-long cave, the Emerald Cave. Once we arrive on the spot, we follow our torch-bearing guide in single file trying to swim forward even though our orange life jackets allow more clumsy movements than usual. Emerging at the end of the tunnel, a postcard view opens up before us: we are surrounded by rocks for 360°, we are in a kind of marine crater accessible only underwater. A spectacle! We return to base hungrier than ever; we don't feel like doing much travelling, but since the fish counter of our resort is not reassuring, we decide to move further north, to a typical restaurant that we will later call the hovel for obvious reasons.

At the end of the meal Vlao, against all tradition, doesn't even ask for the tour leader free, just to not delay the evacuation procedure. We have to drink to forget the dinner and for this we conclude the evening in grand style sipping cocktails based on lychee, passion fruit and mango at a characteristic Jamaican party. Jean, in great form, creates a stir with the television move and with his improbable dances risks his safety several times before the evening slowly comes to an end. For the second day at sea it is obligatory to satisfy, at least in part, our Brexit friends with the visit to pipi.. fifi... paipai... in short Phi Phi Island, whatever it's called. With an eye on the common fund, we discard the private speedboat option and decide to move with the first available ferry.

On the vessel we luckily meet a certain Pippoinzaghi who books a boat all for us for a personalised visit. With our tub we head towards Koh Phi Phi Lee where we stop at the overexposed Maya Beach, a beach as beautiful as it is crowded, made famous by the film with Di Caprio. Despite everything we find a liveable little beach on the side and manage to enjoy a bit of this paradise ruined by excessive popularity. On the way back we make other swimming stops and pass by to greet the trained monkeys of Monkey beach, observing them as they down bottles of coke as if nothing had happened. We get back on the ferry boat which takes us home in perfect time to allow Martimarti to put together a sort of beach volley in the water. Once the teams are made we challenge each other until the sun dives into the sea as in the most beautiful of postcards. Another memorable day draws to a close...

a little dinner on the beach, an ice-cold Singha and everyone ready for the new adventures that still await us...

Ko Rok and the night train

Today we could enjoy our resort's beach, wake up late, have a comfortable lunch, find out whether the pool is freshwater or saltwater... and instead no, since we've done Ko Lanta, let's do Kolantwo too. And for the occasion we treat ourselves well: we set sail with a super twin-engine speedboat, one of those that whizzed by our side in the past days, and head towards a remote island called Ko Rok. The illustrations we had seen in the leaflets correspond to the truth and this time there isn't even the crowd of Phi Phi. We are in a true earthly paradise. We split between those who laze about on the beach and those who still feel like snorkelling in this sea that goes from turquoise to blue; we enjoy what will be our last day of relaxation.

Back at base it is time to repack the suitcases which, after 4 nights in the same place, have the syndrome of the dismemberment of the backpack at the terminal stage. With some difficulty we manage to take everything away except the beach ball which we leave as an inheritance to a little girl in a chador. We regroup as in the old days on the minibus that this time will take us to Trang, a cheerful Thai town, a crucial junction for the night train that from the south will lead us to the capital. Vlao, in arranging the itinerary, didn't feel up to depriving the group of the pleasure of a night on rails! While we wait for departure time we wander around the market and for the first time in the whole trip we make the acquaintance of the rain! A sudden monsoon catches us out strolling through the little streets of the town.

We take refuge in a shop that sells products for pastry chefs and wait for the downpour to subside. When we begin to fear missing the train, we decide to throw ourselves into the puddle and head for the station, stopping only for an obligatory stop at an ice-cold Seven Eleven. We stock up on food for the journey. Very salty crisps, sweet-and-sour snacks heated in the oven, the ever-present honey&lemon tea and, the cherry on top, a bottle of the legendary Hong Tong, ideal for making the transfer that awaits us pass cheerfully, a good eleven hours as commuters on the Trang-Bangkok express! We just manage to eat something before the train leaves and our carriage suddenly turns into a sleeping car. Sbim, sbang, sbeng, producing atrocious noises the train conductor opens and prepares the bunk beds, closes the curtains, turns off the light and goodnight to the players.

To induce sleep we knock back the Hong Tong which Fernet, given the ban on alcohol in force on board, keeps hidden in a paper bag like a seasoned tramp. We make a toast and lie down... the night passes quickly and all in all comfortably... until six when the conductor, like a jailer banging his baton on the bars of the cells, makes everyone jump off the bunks. At nine we are back in Bangkok; a humidity we were no longer used to assails us on leaving the station; the long trousers used for the transfer are out of place; we go to the hotel to have a quick change of clothes to be ready for the visit to the city... the last piece missing from our trip!

and finally Bangkok! The poor man's taxi boat stops a few steps from our hotel and we take the opportunity to approach the royal palace. The rain that fell in the morning, turned into water vapour by the first sun, makes the day tough even for gritty tourists like us. To complicate things there is the security at the entrance to the palace which applies the door selection inflexibly, slamming the door in the faces of Matach, Vlao and Davide and their obscene shorts. Expelled without appeal, the three are forced to go to the boutique specially located in front of the entrance to grab some baggy trousers with the typical elephant and palm patterns, ideal for passing the barrier. The palace is full of foreigners and above all of Thais, dressed in black, who go in procession to pay their respects to the sovereign who died months ago.

We are not as motivated as they are and we manage to complete the visit only thanks to the providential fans that every now and then give us a bit of tepid air. Once lunchtime comes, despite the climate, we don't give up one of the last feasts, but more than anything it's all an excuse to stay a bit in the shade sipping something cool; we really need it. We visit Wat Pho with its reclining buddha and then we disperse through the city. We meet up at the hotel around dinner time, rent 3 tuk tuks and begin a race to the death to reach our destination in as little time as possible, the night market of Khao San Road. Our drivers, or rather pilots, challenge each other, overtaking left and right. Devising unthinkable trajectories, they tackle the bends at full throttle and, without even a collision, manage to get us safe and sound to our destination.

We choose a nice little restaurant for dinner, which we will rename Dal Ratòn for the usual obvious reasons, and in the after-dinner we decide to treat ourselves to a walk in the red-light market of Patpong which we reach with another adrenalinic tuk tuk ride. The shopping street is very crowded; among sellers of fake watches, bars that serve "heavy drinks without documents" and signs advertising ping pong and other minor sports we risk getting lost several times. Once the curious night is archived, all that remains is to spend our last day in Bangkok in the name of compulsive shopping. Led by Martimarti, who feels at home among the Sky train stops, we go to the Sunday market of Chatuchak where an endless series of stalls awaits us offering any kind of merchandise.

We have to spend our last baht and we are spoiled for choice: there are those who invest the whole lot in strange delicacies not yet tasted, those who desperately try to buy the last useless gifts and those who, wisely, prefer to set aside the last nuggets so as not to be left without dinner. The kilometres among the stalls make themselves felt and force us to a pit stop at the park where we sprawl a bit on the mats wisely rented by Fernet and Alice. Having recovered some energy we move again with the elevated metro and cool off inside a mega multi-storey shopping centre. We treat ourselves to a last dinner in the same place where we met 17 days ago... a lifetime seems to have passed... in such a short time how many things we have done! We toast with the last Chang to an intense trip that will stay in our memory and that we will manage to bring into focus only at home...

looking at the photos together with friends invited, against their will, to test the fruits of the legendary Thai cooking course...