Bangkok Limbo + The Wind of the Sea

So we began our time in limbo in Bangkok, waiting on our visas to come through. Having spent some time in the relative peace of Chiang Mai - despite it being Thailand’s second city - Bangkok seemed hectic and loud. Our first night, arriving off the back of our 13-hour train ride, was more stressful than necessary; trying to find suitable accommodation for the night, which resulted in me venturing out in the pissing tropical rain on an ultimately futile hotel-seeking mission. On the ‘isn’t it a small world’-side, I did manage to bump into someone I knew from my old workplace. We were all half camped-out in the lobby of a hotel, the hour growing late, my clothes damp and steaming when I heard someone say, “J…?” As much as I was aware my ex-colleague was in the same area at the same time, Bangkok isn’t exactly a tiny English village with one shop, one pub and one cafe, so the odds of randomly being in the same place at the same time brought some much-needed levity to that evening. For us. For about one minute.

‘Bangkok Foot’

After a couple of days we ended up in a pleasant guesthouse, on the corner of a side-road that looked like it should be quiet and tranquil but obviously acted as some sort of metro cut-through, which meant that at every hour of the day hundreds of scooters would slow down for the corner before revving-up again. Plus cars and trucks. And, not to sound sour and moaning, but it was the only place we had stayed that didn’t have any screens or protections against mosquitos, leading to one of my feet looking like it was suffering from a mildly serious tropical disease. But aside from all that, it was cosy. And the hosts provided homemade cakes (lemon sponge and chocolate brownies) from the first morning we were there, which myself, E and e very much enjoyed, repeatedly.

But always, constantly, in the backs of our minds was the visa situation. There was no reason to think that they would be denied, or that some would be accepted and others not so, which would be the most frustrating outcome, but until we received absolute confirmation, we could never truly relax.

After extending our stay in cosy-cake-mosquito-house by a few days, hallelujah! The visas arrived, first R’s, then e’s, then mine and after a slightly unnerving delay, E’s. So a quick booking for a flight to Da Nang, then a taxi to the airport and we bid adieu to Thailand.

There is plenty to say about when we arrived in Da Nang; our first few days and our first week in Hoi An. However, what is on my mind currently is the sea.

Where we have currently settled for just under a month is a few minutes’ walk from the beach; a long straight piece of coastline that is still recovering from the typhoon (Kalmaegi) that hit it and caused the worst flooding since the 1960s, as well as revealing a 55-foot long 14th-16th century ship. The exposed beams of the ship appears as a grinning row of shark teeth, daring anyone to enter the shallows. Major sand-restoring works are taking place; diggers and other incongruous machinery adorn the beaches, looking like huge hulking monolithic beasts.

Post-Typhoon Kalmaegi Beach

We have moved into a newly built lodge; a cosy place to be as the weather cools and the rains set in. As someone who grew up by the ocean I always feel at home by the water, and in the few nights we have so far been here, I have fallen asleep with my head turned to the small bedside window, slightly ajar, the softly blowing wind mixing with the white-static of the sea, impossible to differentiate between them at times. As much as we are slightly cut-off from the town here (still only ten mins or so by taxi) and some of the activities and groups we have discovered for E and e, currently we are relishing the peace and tranquility - a world away from where we were at in Bangkok.

Right now I can look out of that same small window and, past a non-uniform line of palm trees standing at casual guard, I see the sea. Currently the clouds are low, the water is sandy-brown and the rain is coming, but the close proximity to the push-and-pull of the tide, the occasional spray flickering skywards, the temptation to feel the water on skin mixed with the thalassophobic fear of the ocean’s depths and taking of souls on an industrial-scale — that mix, is peace.