Pedaling through the busy morning traffic, I can feel the
beads of sweat on my forehead. I am certain my face is the same shade of pink
as my magenta t-shirt. I figure it just adds to the spectacle that I already
am. Okay, a foreigner with a large backpack on their back, not so unusual. What
made me a sight was that not only did I have a backpack on, but I also had
things strapped to the outside of my pack, like rolls of toilet paper and
clothes hangers instead of dirty hiking boots.
I was also riding a fairly new bicycle, not the kind that
you can rent from any guest house. The front basket was overflowing with a rain
poncho, bottles of mosquito repellent and three wicker baskets (nested inside
each other). Over the rear wheel had a small red suitcase strapped down. With
each turn I prayed that the load wouldn’t shift, and that everything was
tightly attached.
I looked up to see a small beat up Toyota pick-up
overflowing with bulky furniture, a mattress strapped to the roof and a lamp
shade on the dash board. Hmm, today must be moving day, I thought to myself as
I turned onto yet a busier street.
A motorbike passed me large plastic bags filled with
vegetables hanging of each handlebar, a large bag of what appeared to be meat was
resting between her feet. The basket was filled with small bags with various
colored liquids, mostly reds, browns, and whites. Behind her was what appeared
to be a freshly laundered blanket tied down to her seat. A child of no more
than four sat upon it, clinging to the sides of her shirt. At that moment I
realized things could be worse, that and I could have probably tied more stuff
to my bicycle.
Now let me preface this with saying, I didn’t have to move
my belongings by bicycle and I am fully aware of this. I could have loaded all my stuff into a
tuk-tuk and have been done with the whole process in one trip and under a half
hour. But having had had several unpleasant experiences with various tuk-tuk
and songtaew drivers as of late, I had my reasons to do it by myself. Not to
mention the expense, why pay someone to do something I could easily do myself?
This way I would save money, and get some exercise while I was at it. I also
had the thought that I could take that money I would have paid a tuk-tuk driver
and instead gotten a Thai massage after I was finished.
In the early morning hours while I finished packing my
belongings into various bags, this plan seemed ingenious. Now sweating through
traffic, this plan seemed like a suicide mission. But I told my self, two trips
down (almost) one to go.
My first trip of the day was early, the cool morning air
caressing my arms and face. I wore jeans and was hoping that if it started
raining at any point it did so between my trips and not during. The tuk-tuk
drivers that hung out near my house jeered at me, and yelled across the street
“too much, too much, we take, we take for you”. I was not to be detoured.
During the first trip I was still delighted by my plan. However, the joy was
not to last.
After my first trip, I traded my jeans for a pair of shorts
and headed back across to the other side of the moat, the sun was out, it was
hot and it looked like all signs of rain had burned off. I swore at myself for
not starting earlier, and decided to get in one more run before taking a break,
as soon the heat would be sweltering and I wasn’t about to risk heat stroke.
I ran to the corner hardware store and purchased some bungee
cords, and after several failed attempts had managed to get the suitcase securely
fastened to the bicycle. I debated how much more I should take. The first trip
had just been my pack, and while it had changed my balance, I did find it much
easier to maneuver than I thought. I did some test runs around the parking lot,
deciding pack and suitcase weren’t too much, and off I was again. Only this
time it was hot. My pace was slow but steady. I bribed myself with thoughts of
cool water at my goal.
I made it in one piece, carried my stuff up to the third
floor in one trip despite the weight and awkwardness, and quickly unpacked. It
was after noon, and I was ready for a break and some lunch. I headed back out
on my bike towards my old place. I had laundry to pick up, and some errands to
run first. The sky began to darken, and while waiting at a light, the clouds
opened up, and let out a deluge right over me. The water cooling the asphalt
gave off a distinct odor I recalled from thunderstorms during my childhood. I
pulled my rain jacket out of the basket and quickly threw it on, just as the
light changed, and the thunder started. Lunch would have to be first.
My final trip was uneventful, just delayed several hours due
to a rain storm. The light mist felt wonderful against my hot skin, but it
wasn’t so wet that I was worried about my things getting ruined. My reward is
the new place I am living in (well that and the Thai massage I had that night). The view is spectacular, mountain to my left,
tops of old Thai houses below, punctuated occasionally by the ornate roof lines
of temples. Chedi Luang is directly across from my room, the golden Buddha silently
staring at me at almost eye level. At night the Chedi is lit, and the Buddha
glows an eerie red.
The neighborhood is quiet (well except at the moment, there
is some minor construction going on across the street). There is a market
nearby, in the morning filled with vendors selling fresh fruit, veggies and
meat, by night filled with vendors selling prepared Thai staples (and treats).
The place is fairly empty a Japanese girl lives on my floor, below us a
Japanese couple and an American. The first floor lives the Thai couple who owns
the place. We have access to a communal area downstairs, and an outdoor (Thai)
kitchen.
I am considering taking a Thai cooking class on one of my
days off, but until then the market will suffice just fine.
