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A traveler always has a tale to tell and
a large part of traveling is the people
you meet, the predicaments you find
yourself in and the ways and whims of
survival. I spent a couple of days on
top of that bedbug infested beautiful
mountain overlooking the tired lonely
ships. The long thin cookhouse served
as the hang out. It had long tables,
which filled the room, and book shelves
on either end. The shelves were lined
with worn out books left behind by worn
out travelers. Travel guides, romance
novels, sci-fi, and how to survive
books. Tattered, torn, and drawn on maps
were strewn about. The unspoken but
adhered to code of travelers "take a
book , leave a book" was understood and
never explained. There were also games
and cards for those so inclined. A door
in the center led to the kitchen where a
few cook 'stations' were available for
your 'you do it' meals. There were
cubbyholes that visitors could store
their food in and a special cubby- hole
for food left behind by other travelers,
for the travelers down on their luck.
Nights were pleasantly filled with
quiet laughter, great stories and info
swapping. A couple of young, extremely
thin, shaven guys dressed in tie-dyed
tank tops and large fitting shorts sat
motionless while playing chess. An older
fellow sat in front of his maps and a
collection of travel books. A few loners
sipped their Ichaban soups and special
tea brews slowly with no expression at
all. Some sat in groups - each out doing
the other with more and more outrageous
travel stories. A group from my dorm
basted each other with pasty creams.
Some travelers sat out near the edge of
the patio, watching the ships and
smoking Asia's finest.
Everyone was sweating and everyone
sported a water bottle, cup of tea or a
local beer.
I made the rounds spending a fair
amount of time with different
individuals. I wanted to get the flavor
and essence of the travel circuit.
People had come from all directions but
most had made Thailand their main stay.
A few India and Nepal and a larger
number from Malaysia. A few were just
starting out but most, surprisingly, had
been 'in the circuit' a long time. One
guy had been traveling 14 years - looked
every bit of it. I think he was way past
due for his yearly dental checkup.
No one had the slightest concern for
the families or lives they had left
behind. The past was just not something
they talked about. Time sort of hangs
for some travelers - the mind stays
static but the body gives away the toll
of the load. Age, even in the young,
peaks through the deep tans and sun
bleached hair. I had planned to check
the jails in Hong Kong and asked if
anyone knew anything about them. The
response was interesting. A few snorts
of 'what a joke' and 'shit' and some
head shaking followed comments such as
"they'll never speak to ya man" "Man ya
don't wanna end up there man. They'll
just kill ya" "Ya, they don't keep no
damn records. You just disappear"
"Chinese government hates druggies man"
"Don't go askin no questions. Shit."
Of course, the fresh new travelers
were wide -eyed and attentive to all
this informative narration. I asked if a
person could buy drugs in Hong Kong. One
guy replied that you can buy drugs any
place anytime, anywhere in the whole
f---- world, only Asia was cheap.
Everyone laughed and confirmed this very
funny fact. Helpful, very helpful.
The conversation took on its own
energy and the story swapping began,
including bed bug, other bug, rodent,
snake and bathroom stories. I listened
to the ingenious ways so many of them
had smuggled their drugs in and out of
different countries. I couldn't believe
that after telling me of the dangers of
getting caught anyone would still take
such risks but it seems that the game of
'my dog is bigger than yours' outweighs
the risks. Everyone would roll over
laughing at how someone outfoxed some
policeman. I am sure at the time they
were probably wetting their pants.
I asked where the 'scene' was in
Bangkok .The general consensus was that
Khosan Road was the place to be. James
had made Khosan Road his first stop
also. I left the cookhouse to find my
favorite seat to digest my thoughts and
watch the ships. Not too long later a
man about 35 years old or so sat down
beside me. He said nothing. Neither did
I. Finally he said, "What are you doing
in Asia?"
When you travel in Asia other
travelers never seem to ask this
question. I don't know if it is because
they don't want the same question thrown
back at them or that no one really cares
why. They only live for the moment. But
this guy looked me straight in the eye
and with that I simply said I was
looking for someone. He said, "Gotta
picture?" I showed him a small photo of
James. He looked with an all-knowing
smile. " He looks Thai. You won't find
him. He looks smart." "He is" I replied.
"He won't be in Hong Kong - well, if
he is, or was, he would be dead by now.
If he had been in jail at all, he would
be dead by now. People come here to go
somewhere else, even the crap on those
ships. Na, people pick up drugs here and
go back to Thailand to sell them. Big
bucks, friggin bucks. You will be better
off in Thailand."
This guy seemed sincere and
knowledgeable. I never asked him for his
'story'.
"Look, he said, there is a guy named
Gary on Khosan Road. Find him. He will
help you." "How do you know that?" I
said. He replied, " Just find him" The
man left me without a goodbye and was
gone from the hostel the next day.
I jotted down notes and studied my
own maps and books and headed into the
city. The trip back to the city was a
daytime pleasure. I had to see for
myself what was what. I walked and
bussed all over the place to find a
police station where I could talk to
someone concerning checking jail records
and perhaps visiting the jails in Hong
Kong. I was treated with total
indifference mixed with a slight brick
wall. Officials not only did not want to
speak with me, but they informed me that
there were no records and they
had no foreigners and that the
prisons were hours away by boat on
islands and no one was allowed. Hmmmph!
So much for that. I could have stayed
and beat that bush but Thailand was
tugging at me.
I prayed that James had not been
stuck couriering some dumb drugs, been
busted in Hong Kong and ultimately
perished in prison somewhere or even
executed. But I could not be
discouraged. I went to the airport to
forge ahead to Thailand - to Bangkok -
and to Khosan Road.
Part 5 |
