Transportation Trauma
Trip from the bus station was an adventure, to say the least. Looking like a 40-minute walk so I feel best to grab a Grab, but all the cars are busy. So I set out walking. But the destination wasn’t my destination after all; the Airbnb directions were quite confusing.
I try again for a Grab and finally get a taker, 6-minutes away. 2-minutes away, he messages: “I need you to pay 200 bahts.” (The app says 76.) “Because of the rules,” he says, “because the taxi companies.”
Who am I to know? I’m suspicious, but in the scheme of things, it’s only 8 bucks.
We get to the place, at least it sort of looks like my place, and he wants the $. I show him I’ve already paid 76 baht, so he gets out his calculator and asks for 130. I’d be lying to say I didn’t have it, but insisted on paying through the QR code using my new app, Moreta, which turns dollars into bahts, the only option other than cash. It doesn’t work. It’s not a business QR, but a personal one. I take out a 100 note, and he quickly accepts it and leaves.
But this isn’t the house. I message my host. No, that’s not the place. I am 3 kilometers away. This time he gives me the actual name of the house, and I easily find it on the map. It looks like a 40-minute walk, lugging my luggage. Soon I’m out on a fast 2-lane highway. I check the GPS arrow and look ahead: a hugely steep hill. The next 1/2-hour is looking brutal.
Meanwhile, my dear host is keeping tabs, wanting to help as he can. He writes, “Sorry, but I don’t have good transportation right now.” I text back that my battery is down to 2%. But I will find my way.
He texts: “What clothes are you wearing? I am on my way.”
I send him my photo and a nearby sign; my phone dies. And for a moment, I sort of die with it. A sigh.
I’m on the lookout, and next thing I know, a fellow on a scooter pulls up beside me with a smile. I figure this is him, and somehow this is going to work.
He sizes up my bags and says it’s a flimsy bike, but wedges one bag at his feet, the other one’s on me. He starts up, and I get on, hands over his shoulders, and off we go. Approaching the hill, he says it won’t allow him to shift gears easily, but it finally kicks in and we climb the hill slowly. It indeed does feel a bit rickety, but I feel I’m in good hands and, sure enough, in 6 or 7 minutes we pull up at my little place, and here I am now. Quiet, a bit on the outskirts, actually a 22-minute walk to town.
From my back porch I watched the dusk settle in with the mountains and a string of white lights as a backdrop. I feel my appetite calling, so I’m about to start toward dinner, and I understand there’s a night market pretty much every night, so I may check that out too.
Though I am eyeing a banana, two mandarins, and a crunchy rice mix I purchased at the rest stop, and am tempted to simply stay home.
