Thailand part 1: comfortably numb

Hello again. My never-ending journey has brought me to a new country - Thailand!

It's a fascinating old place, full of Buddhist temples, monks and markets, cheap as fook to stay in, and bloody hot! It takes a while to fully make sense of the local culture, and I'm still staring at the metaphorical road-map scratching my head. Luckily I'm staying in the country for a full month and I will get to see and do an amazing amount.

So another week, another country. The joy of travelling has rather lost its meaning in recent days; Singapore induced a cloud of gloom and homesickness over me that took a long while to shift. Its pleasant soullessness affects you like a mosquito that's been zapped with repellent - you lose your bearings and find yourself drifting aimlessly, day after day, on autopilot. And before you know it that juicy human limb is far out of reach. I don't normally go around attacking human limbs you understand, though I dare say I would if I were a mosquito. It would kind of be my job, you know?

Anyway, Singapore is a bit boring. After I wrote that humungous blog pontificating on just how boring Singapore is, quite literally two more things happened. The first is I randomly met Joe, an Asian-American guy staying at the hostel, and we hung out together briefly. He bought me lots of food and then began to annoy me with his fog-horn voice and brash mannerisms. All these random acts of kindness from strangers - I must look like a proper charity case! Either that or I have an indescribable winsome charm.

We went to look at Raffles Hotel (a big hotel founded back in the mists of time by Sir Stamford Raffles, owner of one of the poshest names I have ever seen). Then he told me a lengthy anecdote about him biking up the coast of California with Arnold Schwarzenegger and Kevin Spacey. I always doubt people who claim to know famous people. There's always some bloke in the pub who 'had that Cat Stevens in the back of my cab once', or 'used to clean Sting's plumber's windows'. I tend not to come out and pour scorn on their wild claims in case they're telling the truth, in which the banner of stupidity would be transferred directly on to my head. But hanging out with the governor of California and one of Bill Clinton's close personal buddies... Jesus, give me some credit!

My head still ringing from Joe's over-amplified dulcet tones, I bid farewell to the hostel and headed off to the one attraction I'd not seen in Singapore yet - Sentosa Island. This is a small island that lies just to the south of the main harbour, which some developer presumably spotted back in the mists of the 20th Century and thought, "ooh, there's a nice green island over there - this doesn't really fit with our 'bland skyscraper' motif, let's bulldoze the f**k out of it, slap all the indigenous wildlife in new and exotic beefburgers and put a theme park there!"

What the theme of the theme park is, I haven't a clue. Fun? Tourist-land? It's like the rest of Singapore - enjoyable on the surface but without history and meaning. There's some nice rides, and if you like theme parks, you'll love Sentosa, the land where tourists come to do tourist things of various descriptions! I didn't love it especially. There is a monorail ride over the harbour that links it with the mainland, lots of different zoos and rides, and some man-made beaches. It didn't push many of my 'fun' buttons but then I'm not eight anymore. I have turned to the dusky pleasures of women of the orient and opium, and become a withered and depraved old curmudgeon.

I went on a luge ride (which is kind of like riding down a dry bobsleigh on a kid's trike) and that was fun - though I'm a bit ashamed to admit it. It reminded me of the happy childhood times before I was a man and had to fight for king and country. Cheered by my experience, I headed through an artificially-planted woodland glade in the direction of the 4D Magix cinema, to watch a 3D film about pirates with Leslie Nielsen in it.

The film was terrible (Leslie Nielsen, what are you doing man!? You're a comedy legend!) but watching the 3D action was quite cool through the NHS-style square specs they give you. It was noticably lacking in the extra dimension, although the chairs wobble in time with the slapstick action and hidden water-jets squirt in your face when a character falls in the sea. These cheesy gimmicks became incredibly annoying after a couple of minutes, but the rest of the cinema laughed like goons! Foreigners - they've no bloody idea what comedy is, I tell thee.

By now I was all Sentosa'd out, and engulfed in a cloud of gloom. I was the mosquito thinking, 'where the f**k did that pasty white English person with delicious blood go?' I don't know how it did it but Singapore had got to me. I was jaded. You're not meant to feel like this on the trip of a lifetime!

I got my things and rode out on the metro to Changi airport; back to the palace of glittering modernity that had ushered me into this strange land. I checked in for my flight at the 'budget' terminal, which turned out to be a small shed hiding behind the rest of the airport, and that was that.

The flight north to Bangkok lasted two hours, treating us to a breathtaking sunset up in the clouds over the Gulf of Thailand. I flew with Tiger Airways, a cheapo airline who do flights around Asia and Oz. No frills, minimum of fuss and it only cost about thirty quid including airport tax. When we touched down the first thing I noticed was the heat. It's intense, even at night.

I found a cheap bus that would take me to the centre of town, and off we headed through the traffic. Journeying through the city at night I saw an abundance of spectacular temples whizzing past us, featuring ornate multicoloured stone chedis (towers) and pointy oriental-style roofs painted in magnificent shades of red and gold. You generally see lots of Thai flags and ceremonial bunting out on the street, and everywhere there are pictures of a bloke with specs. That being the all-powerful King Bhumibol of Thailand. He's the ninth monarch from the Chakri dynasty, rulers of Thailand since the 18th Century. Don't criticise him EVER or you will go to jail!

Apart from that one important rule, it's a very relaxed place with very friendly people. Thai roads are crazy though. Traffic is very bad in the big cities and you could die of old age waiting to cross the road. The traffic literally never stops! And if you get stuck at a red light, you could be waiting ten minutes for it to change. Shanty towns can spring up at stationary road junctions. People are born and die waiting for the light to change to green. And the big highways have several different strands of traffic woven in together, the lanes built on one-by-one as the years have gone by. On a typical highway you might see one lane going forward, next to three lanes going back, next to another two lanes going forward, next to another three lanes going back! Mad. I don't know how that system works, but it does!

In recent decades the city of Bangkok rapidly mushroomed in size like a bacterial culture growing in a petri dish, acquiring mile upon mile upon mile of suburbs quicker than it knew what to do with them. And the city centre district of Khaosan Road, where I was coming to stay, is incredibly packed. Since the early 90s Khaosan Road has been the place for backpackers. Teeming with life every hour of the day, the strip is full to the brim with stalls, restaurants, clubs, bars, hotels and a ladyboy or two lurking in the shadows I dare say (not that I went looking mind). The neon glow rising from the street at night matches sunlight pound-for-pound in brightness.

Narrow alleyways sprawl off the main strand, each revealing a teeming microcosm of city life and dozens of bars and hotels nestling incestuously together. Unlike Delhi the crowding feels safe and intimate; it's like being part of a greater living organism and I loved the buzz of the crowds (and I'm not even a of nestling incestuously, either).

In one such narrow alleyway I found the New Joe guest house, a compact and friendly little place offering various commodities such as food (via the adjoining restaurant), laundry, internet, a bar and a travel agent (most Thai hotels have some sort of tourist info service). Oh, and rooms with beds in obviously.

I don't know who New Joe is, or how or in what way he differs from the old Joe, or if maybe they came from a long succession of Joes, or even a dynasty of Joes, or if there was a bitter power struggle between the new and old Joe that was eventually won by New Joe, but hell, not everything has to make sense in life. I dumped my bags in my room and ran off gratefully to enjoy a beer at a nearby backstreet reggae bar, watching a rerun of a classic Real Madrid-Roma footy match from 2004 - the halcyon galactico days of Zidane, Figo, Roberto Carlos and Ronaldo (the fat one). Later I got talking to an English guy with a young Thai wife. Ahh, the Thai bride phenomenon. The morsel of comfort for every single man in his 40s and older!

European football is incredibly popular in Thailand, particularly English football. I've met tons of Thais supporting Liverpool, and Man U, and even a Man City fan (who proudly boasted that dodgy ex-Thai PM Thaksin Shinawatra is the club chairman, much to my amazement). They follow their chosen team with a religious frenzy, despite the team belonging thousands of miles away in a place they're unlikely ever to visit. It's crazy to see - that's the power of western marketing unleashed on the world!

Three days is nowhere near long enough to see all that Bangkok's got to offer, but three days was all I'd got. The next day I got up, doused myself in factor 40 suncream and headed out into the great unknown. The first mission (working out where the f**k the New Joe guest house is on the map) was accomplished over a coffee at breakfast. Now I wanted to see the Grand Palace and the nearby temples of Wat Pho and Wat Arun, a short walk across town. This second mission would not be as easy as the first.

Bangkok is geared up to tourism in a big way, and the streets are crawling with canny touts trying to befriend western visitors with polite chit-chat and draw them into their friend's rickshaw for a sight-seeing trip. The sight-seeing trip inevitably involves a visit to a crafts shop of some description, where there is the risk you will be locked inside until you make a purchase. Mmm, think of that lovely commission the guy's gonna get! The best way is to smile and politely decline, and remain unflappable like Roger Moore.

I know that now with hindsight. I was misled by a tout near the Grand Palace who told me it was shut (they always tell you it's shut, it's bollocks) and he convinced me to go in the rickshaw to see two other temples. They were both stunningly beautiful and it was well worth the 40 Baht (60p) fare, and canny backpacker that I am, I refused to go in when the driver made the customary stop outside a craft shop. (You have to get up pretty early in the day to beat me, Johnny Foreigner!)

But Bangkok boasts a bewildering array of over 200 temples that the touts are eager for you to see. (You wonder why they bothered building so many temples, but then our cities have lots of chuches I guess.) As a tourist you should ignore the other 200 temples or anywhere else the tout wants to take you, and concentrate on seeing the Grand Palace, Wat Pho and Wat Arun first, as these are the biggest and best. After you've seen a few of these amazing Buddhist temples they all start to look the same, and what is life when you can no longer appreciate beauty?

Taking a rickshaw ride in Bangkok is like buying a lottery ticket; you never know if you're going to come out of the other side in the right place or even see your hotel again! Luckily he obligingly dropped me back on Khaosan Road and off I headed to feed my troubling addiction to internet cafes. The next day I caught a boat across the river to see the temple of Wat Arun, which was truly splendiferous. It will be months before I get round to uploading my photos but you can see good pics of it on Google here.

I got chatting to a Japanese student on the boat and we climbed the monumental stupa (tower) to get a bird's eye view of the temple and the river. He took a photo of me and I did a two-finger 'peace' sign as a bit of a joke. I took photos of him to return the favour and he innocently copied my peace sign both times, presumably thinking this to be some sign of religious respect. Don't you just love it when humour doesn't translate! I know I do. I felt a bit guilty about that actually.

Anyway I'll have to leave it here as I'm out of time and I need to go do things. That was a week ago and I've since gone up to Chiang Mai (city in northern Thailand) and done lots of other stuff like Thai cooking schools and riding on elephants. And tomorrow I start a two-week volunteer project, this time working with remote hill tribes. Amazing times. Curses, this thing is taking forever to write! We'll catch up with it somehow. Fare thee well, reader.