On our last day we decided to pile 3 adults, 3 stuffed-to-the-brim backpacks, and 5 pieces of hand luggage into a tuk tuk and make our way to the airport. Upon saying good-bye to "King" Kyle and my darling brother, Gary in Phnom Penh I made my way to the departure lounge at PP airport. Sitting down in front of a television I was transfixed at the breaking news that protesters were approaching Bangkok airport. Hmm, I thought, should I be concerned by this? I boarded the plane and landed in BKK in time to see protesters approaching the airport, the police putting up road blocks and my taxi driver proclaiming repeatedly, 'bad, very bad'. I asked that he get me to the bus station asap - mainly because I wanted to get on the bus to visit my close friend, Jude, living in the town of Ranong. The protesters seemed to resemble a street parade more than they resembled a disgruntled mob of volatile rioters.
After a nine hour bus ride during which I quickly realised that there was not a single person on the bus that spoke a lick of English, we arrived in the town of Ranong. One must comment rather quickly on the overwhelming smell of fish that is to be encountered upon exiting the confines of air-conditioned comfort when arriving into this town. It is the equivalent to the intensity of the smell that permeates out of the town of Rotorua in NZ. I would venture to say that I far prefer Rotorua's thermal stench over that of Ranong's fish perfume. The reason for the smell is attributed to the fact that Ranong is home to Thailand's largest west coast port which is home to a HUGE fishing fleet. The town of Ranong I am told is enormously reliant on this industry with a high percentage of the town's occupants - mainly Burmese refugees - being employed within the industry to some degree. The Burmese refugee population of Ranong is quite large, estimated at 100,000+, most of whom are illegal and all of whom have very little rights. In addition to this, the Burmese are faced with immense prejudice from the Thai people and are essentially seen as second class citizens.
Unfortunately my cell phone battery died as we entered Ranong. This combined with the fact that I had not noted Jude's address caused me slight panic. I tried in vain to communicate with the bus driver who answered all my questions with a smile and 'yes'. I reasoned that Ranong could not possibly be that big and that I would simply 'ask around', hoping to bump into an English speaker. Contemplating the thought of carrying my 16kg backpack and my 15kg of hand luggage around in the rain I sat at the Ranong bus station mapping out a plan of action. This was until I heard a familiar Irish accent speak my name. Jumping up with a squeal I ran down the steps hugging Jude and exclaiming, 'I'm so glad you speak English!' We went on to have a fantastic day. Jude gave me a tour of Ranong, via Thai taxi - a makeshift ute that you jump on and off the back of. Accompanied by 'the smell' we had quite the tour of Ranong. I have always said that I have a heightened sense of smell as I seem to smell odours long before others and with an intensity that I do believe makes me a superhero. This gift of mine was a horrible curse in Ranong.
Jude works for a mission organisation that supplies aid and support to the many Burmese refugees living in Ranong. He asked me at one point if I would be interested in visiting several of the families and individuals that his organisation works with, many of whom suffer from HIV or AIDS. I jumped at the opportunity and soon found myself standing in front of a mother of five (including two sets of twins) who all resided in a questionable, makeshift tiny room that was extremely damp, ill equipped, enormously dirty and made of rotting wood. This woman and her family were illegal immigrants from Burma. The had been abandoned by the woman's husband shortly after the birth of the youngest set of twins. Despite her circumstances this woman smiled brightly as her youngest twins, aged 6 months, had recently been rescued from certain death by the mission. They had been diagnosed with dengue fever and when found by the mission were malnourished and extremely ill. Because of this woman's illegal status as a refugee in Thailand she had been reluctant to seek help at the local hospital. The twins, having received treatment, looked remarkably well. It was a bitter sweet reality - I found it difficult to reconcile the positive news of the twins' recovery with the depravity of their living situation.
Jude and I moved on to a nearby cafe where we had the privacy and the space to discuss what we had just seen. We had a rousing discussion regarding aid work, development and the role of the developed world advocating and protecting the rights of these people. It was the perfect opportunity for me to offload my Cambodia experience onto someone who has both the experience and the education to address the various concerns and questions I had collected along my journey. It was amazing to me how my trip thus far had contributed so dramatically to a renewed and altered shift in my understanding of World Vision's work and the responsibility of those who work within this powerful organisation.
Jude took me back to the guesthouse where we promptly jumped into one of the mission's vehicles and headed for Ranong's infamous hot springs - essentially Rotorua without the thermal smell. I watched as Thai lay down on slabs of concrete heated by thermal waters underneath or bathed in one of the many pools available to the public to enjoy. Surrounded by forest and even several elephants, this location was clearly a respite for those living in Ranong. The continuous supply of rain, due to the fact that the Ranong province is known to receive the most rainfall in all of Thailand, had meant that the day we visited, the normally crowded springs were rather empty. Following this Jude proceeded to give me a tour of Ranong. I am glad he did. Minus the distraction of the smell of fish I was able to see that this town has both charm and character. I felt guilty for allowing the smell to cloud my perspective ;).
Recognising my need to shower - I swear I had fish scales on the bottom of my pants - we headed home to freshen up before my first, and my only night on the town in Ranong. Jude proudly escorted me into a highly populated western style bar where we were treated to a local Thai band pumping out the latest Thai tunes. I was fascinated equally by the crowd's adoration for the band in front of us and with my Irish friend's enjoyment of songs he could not understand for the life of him. Unfortunately for us it was difficult to blend into the crowd. Between our very white skin and my 'Hollyday in Cambodia' shirt, it was clear we were indeed aliens in this foreign land. We moved onto a nearby bar that Jude assured me I would enjoy. The band there I was told, was a fantastic covers band - specialising in English songs. Seeing Jude and I enter the bar, the band immediately began seeing English songs, often looking our way with gigantic smiles. I was so touched at their efforts to impress and tried my darndest to hide my delight at hearing U2's 'With or without you' being sung along the lines of 'Wiss or wissout you ... I can't lieb wiss or wissout you'.
Part way through dinner (I turned down a strong recommendation to try the fish) Jude received a text message. He did not disclose the contents of the message until much later, once we had returned home and I had just drifted off to sleep. He then gave me the news that Bangkok airport was officially closed due to the occupation of the protesters I had seen the night prior. What followed was a night of very little sleep as I tentatively put in place contingency plans followed by a morning on the phone to my travel agent. Unfortunately due to a false assurance from the airline I was to travel with I was told my flights were diverted through Phuket when that was not in fact able to happen. Thinking all was well with my flights I agreed to join Jude in his visa run to Burma. It seemed like such a crazy thing to do - I mean we were going to travel via a small boat across a large channel of water to a country that until recently had been rather hostile toward visitors. Just the kind of activity that would attract my attention to be honest! After being processed through Thai immigration (effectively a pokey office next to the ramp down to the boat taxis) and tough negotiations over the amount to be paid to our ship captains (the two men with dodgy smiles, barefeet and little ability to communicate in English) we climbed into the 15 foot long wooden boat that would be our transportation to Burma. I couldn't help but feel like an asylum seeker as I sat side by side with my fellow boat mates, also on their way to Burma's immigration process. A small boy seemed to be the official assistant to the captains. He would run up and down the boat snatching our passports, jumping off the side of the boat onto precariously postioned stairs leading to a number of immigration offices across the body of water leading to Burma, only to return our passports until the next office. On the way to Burma I received a text from my travel agent saying my flights had fallen through and that I no longer had a way out of Thailand. Being stuck on a boat in between Burma and Thailand I quickly realised I had no choice but to sit still and pray for a miracle. The knowledge that I could potentially miss my close friend's wedding that was taking place in a couple of days was unnerving.
A positive of course is that we made it through Burmese immigration complete with entry and exit stamps in our passports. I had the most interesting customs experience there. The man at the 'interrogation desk' told us to be sure to buy some 'whiskey, jewelery and viagra'. Duly noted.
Following a lunch including Burmese tea (yummy and quite sweet) we decided to head back to Thailand to proceed with 'Operation: Get Claire home'. In order to get to our boat which was lined up alongside 10 or so similar boats who had also transported various visa runners and Burmese nationals, we had to walk/climb/wade through a very large area of layered rubbish - essentially a dump. I was wearing flip flops... On my last precarious step before grabbing Jude's hand and getting into the boat I stood on a rotting bag of rice which split and sprayed its contents onto my feet and pants. I went from a look of mortification to washing my feet with my bottled water and assuring Jude that as a kiwi girl I would infact survive. The ride home was fraught with anxiety over what on earth I was to do. My travel agent had text again to say there were absolutely no flights that would get me home in time for the wedding or any time soon. Hilariously, I received a phone call from Radio NZ who were interested in getting a 'trapped kiwi's perspective', while about to depart this not so sturdy vessel. I asked them to call me back in an hour as I had to negotiate climbing over several boats and a couple of not so sturdy ramps in the rain in order to get to the Thai immigration office.
We returned to Ranong where I spent the afternoon calling my travel agent, scanning travel websites, watching Thai news broadcasts (little help there) and mapping out my options. The end result: little hope at all of going anywhere anytime soon. In fact all I had to go on was a continuous stream of information relaying the same message - the BKK airport had been taken over, protesters were engaging in a degree of violence with pro-government supporters and there was resolution in sight. Completing my interview with Radio NZ - I admit I did not know who Radio NZ were - I resolved myself to staying in Ranong until the insanity of the protests calmed down. Had it not been for my friend's wedding I would have felt quite content in the thought of more Thai food, watching my cheap DVDs and of course spending quality time with Jude. I went online one last time and found a flight out of Phuket to Singapore. I couldn't believe my luck. I quickly bought a ticket. Jude jumped on a moped to buy me a bus ticket to Phuket and I went to shower - this time I had scales and rice to contend with. Well Jude arrived back with the news that I had just over an hour to pack my bags as the bus to Phuket was leaving soon. I packed my bags, said a quick and rather sad good-bye to Jude and boarded the bus that promised to take me to my aircraft of freedom.
I arrived in Phuket at 11pm. The bus dropped us all off at a dark bus terminal and left within minutes. Exhaustion hit me as I realised I had been strung out on little sleep and a fair amount of anxiety. I shared a taxi with a couple of backpackers and arrived at the airport just a little before midnight. Seeing that the airport was about to close, my newfound friends - the Australian backpackers and I asked if it would be okay for us to sleep on the upper level of the airport along the plastic chairs. We were given permission and before long the lights were turned off and after negotiating several sleeping positions, all of which as uncomfortable as the next, we fell asleep. That is until I received a text message at 1am from the airline stating that my flights had been cancelled. It turns out Air Asia had been dependent on Bangkok Airport being open as Air Asia's planes were being held at BKK. This was enormously frustrating as had I known this I would never have booked a flight with them. Between 1am and 3am I walked the halls of Phuket airport contemplating my next move. I began to map out a 6 step plan complete with flow-chart attributes (I am secretly quite the anally retentive geek). My tiredness combined with the realisation that I was in all likelihood about to miss my friend's wedding I began to feel a tad sorry for myself. That was until my Dr Phil moment of 'For goodness sake Claire, pull yourself together'. I then received quite the sobering revelation. If the worst thing occurring in my life at this point in time is the fact that I am stuck in Thailand and have had to spend the night in Phuket airport then I am damn blessed. After what I had been witness to it was not hard for this revelation to assimilate.
At about 3am I received a call from my darling mum. At around 3.30am I received a call from World Vision. Having heard me on the radio they were contacting me to see if I were okay. At hearing familiar voices I immediately felt reassured. True to form, my mum and my coworkers stepped up to the plate and immediately executed 'Operation: Get Claire home'. Within 2 hours I had flights out of Phuket and was headed home! I could tell you about the check-in lady in Phuket who initially refused to give me a boarding pass due to my booking being so close to take-off or perhaps the attendants at the transfer desk in Singapore who told me that there was no way I would make my connection or perhaps my brother's hospitalisation with severe Pneumonia but hey no need to talk about that!
Ah the bottom line is I had a phenomenal experience from start to finish and would not trade any part! From partnering with the fantastic Raw crew, to cycling with a united and passionate bunch of cyclists in 38 degree weather, to high-fiving countless little hands, to the exposure of hope for an impoverished community ... my time in Cambodia was an assault of the heart. One that I hope to experience again and again. Representing World Vision was a huge honor. I was overwhelmed with how impressively effective this organisation is in transforming dismal realities into extremely hopeful futures. Being partnered with all 20 participants in such a great cause was unbelievable.
Must run - I need to prepare for the next World Vision Charity Challenge - leaving in four weeks today!
Signing off...
One satisfied intrepid traveller.
P.S. Be sure to follow my next blog - 16 of us are going to conquer Mt. Kilimanjaro, raising money to help make safe drinking water a reality for the African community of Magugu! http://wvkilimanjarochallenge.blogspot.com/
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