They Call Me Farang by Mallon Scott

Author:Mallon, Scott
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lanahan Media and Publishing
Published: 2015-12-15T16:00:00+00:00

When You Gotta Go, Go!

“Never kick a fresh turd on a hot day.”

Harry S. Truman, 33rd President of the United States

***

I was desperate to get out of Bangkok. If I don’t get away every couple of months to recharge my batteries, I get irritable and combative. Living in a big city will do this to a person.

I decided to leave for Kanchanaburi on Thursday morning. I would stay for three or four days, maybe longer, depending on how I felt. The city is the home of the Bridge Over the River Kwai, made famous in the movie and novel of the same name. The bridge is the start of the Death Railway that leads to Myanmar (formerly Burma). Constructed during World War II by POWs and slave laborers, thousands lost their lives in the process.

The area is now home to a thriving backpacker community and is a huge tourist destination. This happens all over the world; kill thousands, even millions of people, then make the scene of the atrocity a tourist attraction.

My funds were limited so I checked in to The Jolly Frog, a cheap guesthouse popular with the backpacker crowd. I normally stay at higher end establishments but I promised my wife I would be frugal and would forego the four or five-star hotels. The finest room at The Jolly Frog, which isn’t saying much, was only 290 baht ($9.50), so I splurged. The location was decent, just off the main road, and if you sat on one of the numerous lawn chairs or hammocks, the view of the river attractive. Not a bad deal, considering the price, and good enough for a night or two.

The rooms surround a large garden, which in turn provided a good view of the river. My room was old, the paint on the wall peeling, and an indistinguishable smell lingered throughout. The air-conditioner sounded like a jet engine but worked like a champ. This was important for just about everywhere in Southeast Asia, a good air-conditioner is mandatory; a weak air-conditioner is a deal breaker. The bed was soft, too soft, but the room served its purpose and my only concern was that the room was void of rats and roaches.

Every morning, I dined at the indoor-outdoor restaurant in the guesthouse, then walked around the town looking for good light and memorable photographs. I took breaks when I grew tired, ate when I was hungry and took my time getting to know Kanchanaburi. I was in no hurry.

After a long, uneventful day, I headed back towards the hotel. It was hot, as Thailand is ordinarily, and I was thirsty, so I stopped at a small, roadside shack selling drinks and snacks. The little drink kiosks are common throughout Thailand and come in handy in times of need.

As I walked towards the shop, an attractive girl turned and smiled.

“Hello, can I help you?” she asked, cheerfully.

“What do you have to drink?” I asked.

“Water, Coke, Sprite, Fanta orange, Fanta red, Fanta green, Thai tea with milk, Thai lemon tea, coffee, and cocoa.

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