Unexpected Kindness on the way to Kanchanaburi

As a farang (foreigner) in Thailand you are hardly inconspicuous, and as is probably right due to different earning levels, different rules and prices often apply. Haggling is always a good idea, especially when climbing into a tuk-tuk or on the back of a motorbike. In a taxi always insist the meter is switched on.

As promised in earlier posting - acid taxi's

After a few days in Bangkok, and while waiting for Evy, my friend from Belgium to arrive, I decided to head off on my own to Kanchanaburi, a small town alongside the River Kwai about 2 hours away. After a busy day it was already getting dark and I didn't want to arrive too late, so to save time I decided to jump on a motorbike taxi to escape the traffic, backpack and all.

A motorbike and tuk-tuk zip through a Bangkok street

I needed to get to the Southern Bus Terminal, and on my map this was just on the other side of the river in Bangkok.

An elderly-ish man offered me 80 baht to get there on his motorbike which I didn't even bother arguing with as I had expected much more. After weaving in and out of traffic my arms were beginning to ache and we finally pulled up outside..... the Eastern Bus Terminal!! I had pointed out on the map and asked him whether he understood (Tip: people here often just agree or make as if they understand just to get your business). When I again showed him the map he pulled out his reading glasses ...  hmmmm didn't do that the first time ... and his face fell. It is really far he said, 300 Baht. I just agreed, I was tired and sick of sitting on the motorbike and just wanted to get to the bus!

So off we went, and it seemed like we drove miles, the thick humid late afternoon sky rumbled and fat raindrops began to fall. It was a welcome coolness on my skin and I leaned my head back to feel the rain on my face. As it often happens with raindrops they began to bucket down. I wasn't too concerned initially, but  my driver kept looking back at me worriedly, and then the rain became a veritable flood and all the motorbike taxi's pulled under nearby bridges for refuge.

Well, we just wait it out I guess, I thought to myself. We had already come really far and I try not get uptight about these things. But my driver got off the bike and tried to tell me something which I couldn't understand. He then pulled over a taxi for me so I could go the rest of the way in a dry fashion.

How sweet, I thought, and asked him how much I should pay him for taking me this far at least.

He shook his head and put up his hands in refusal. He refused to take my money. He obviously felt quite bad about the mix-up and the rain - not that I felt he should have - and got back on his bike and sped off.

In a country where tourists are money targets and you forever feel as if you are being squeezed for every cent, this man reminded me why I love traveling - for the moments that just light you up inside, when we are all just people offering each other kindness.

The taxi ride itself took another 30 minutes, and another glance on my map revealed an arrow at the edge saying "TO Southern Bus Terminal" and that spot was not the terminal itself.......

“The journey not the arrival matters.” – T. S. Eliot