There’s no place like home

May 11th – 18th

It took well over three months to plan this. Between the contradictive information about whether or not Troopy was allowed to remain on foreign soil for so long, between getting the right price for the right job, I finally booked the tickets to get her home.

I barely slept on the plane, was it the cramped seats of Tiger Airways, or me being eager to sit behind the wheel, I don’t know. Once in Bangkok I took a mor deu sai ráp jâhng, a 125cc motorbike-taxi. They’re quicker than a normal taxi, cheaper than a tuktuk and a lot more frightening than the bus. Traffic in Bangkok is insane. Not only because of the number of cars but also because nobody respects any rule. Red lights mean nothing, traffic is syrupy anyways, right of way mean nothing either, the only rule that applies is “go forth my son”. And that’s what people do, regardless of how big or small the vehicle they’re driving.

Now imaging the traffic going at no more than 10kmh, and the motorcycle-taxi going at 80kmh between cars, switching lanes, braking, accelerating, daring to go through the smallest gap between two cars, or two trucks for that matter. It’s madness. And of course you have one bag on your bag, the other tucked between the rider and yourself, one hand clutched to that bag, the other to whatever you can grab on, and of course, no helmet.

Still, I made it to Mo Chit bus station in less than 15min and I booked my ticket to Nong Hin, the small village where Troopy sleeps. Tanami has been looking over her while she slept under the big blue tarps, as keen to get back on the road as I was.

The trip took well over nine hours, and the bus dropped me off at 3AM in this sleepy village, with nothing but a ragged dog to welcome me. I knew the family who took care of Troopy were farmers so they’d be up with the sun. I had two hours to kill, so I rested for a while on the steps of a shop, waiting for the first light of sun and the Seven Eleven to open so I could buy a coffee.

Just before 6AM, I got picked up by the father whose name I never knew and his daughter whose name I could never remember. They are the parents of the wife of a colleague of a dear friend of mine in Belgium. As always, in business as in travel, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know!
And there she was, just as I’d left her. Three blue tarps, a couple of ropes, and under that roof, Troopy was waiting. When I opened the doors, I got greeted by Tanami, sitting on the driver’s seat, with a note on his laps. It read “Welcome back, don’t forget to plug the batteries, check the oil, clean the water tank and attach the antenna”. Right, I remember now. I had disconnected the two batteries and dropped down the UHF aerial. It’s only been six months since I left so no need to change the oil, just check the levels and fire up the engine. And remove the cobwebs that decorated the whole interior.

Under a cloud of smoke, the engine belched and erupted with one turn of the key. Two hours later I fixed everything back on the roof, and I was ready. A quick shower, a quick “kopi” (instant coffee, lots of milk and ten spoonful of sugar, throughout Asia that’s how coffee is drank), we shook hands, I said kop kun kaap many many time and I hit the road.

As I said, it’s a long drive to Bangkok, it’s an even longer drive when you forget your GPS on the coffee table at home and have to rely on your map, which is good, your navigational skills, which are average, and the road signs, which would make actual sense if they were written in English. Still, head South, that was the rough idea. But it’s okay, I had two days to get there so I took my time and didn’t care much when I ended up in Khon Kaen, 100km east of my route, because it reminded me I had something to do in that city, but that’s a story in itself and I’ll tell you later.

I pulled over for lunch in a small town, I’ve no idea where but the soup was amazing. I’d forgotten how much I loved this Thai basil. It has a liquorice taste and gives the dishes a whole new dimension.

Four hours later I found a quiet spot, up in the hills, overlooking a village and the fields, with the sun going down, I opened the last can of beer I had left in the fridge six months ago … life does not get any better I tell you. I know some of the readers of this blog are overlanders and they know the feeling. There’s nothing like cracking open a beer, when you’ve set up the camp, after a long day drive, with nothing but the nature around you and your car for company, aaaaah the bliss.

It’s hot though, May is the hottest month in the year, just between dry and wet season, and temperatures reach over 40 degrees in the day and don’t come below 25 at night, so the night was still warm when I turned the lights off. There’s no other bed where I sleep this well. Once the windows are closed, since the car has been insulated for Siberia, it’s like a cocoon, so quiet. But it’s too damn hot to keep the windows shut so
I just let the crickets sing me to sleep.

I was only 300km from my destination, so after a long breakfast and a shower, I headed South. Well, going to an address in Bangkok is hard enough, with the street names incomprehensible, and the signing and numbering beyond any logical approach. Try the same without a GPS now. The place is a maze, the traffic insane, the network of highways and main roads so intricate, and there’s roadwork everywhere. Two hours to cross town, but I finally made it and parked outside Tim’s office just after lunch.
Tim is a Brit, he’s been living here for 15 years and runs a business of import-export of cars from and to the UK mostly. But he’s been highly recommended by a few overlanders over the years for his honest prices and dedicated work. We’ll see. He came out the cheapest any ways, or at least the more honest of all the quotes I received.

We won’t need your car today or tomorrow, Tim said, so I’ll take you to a hotel nearby. The Niran Grand Hotel advertises their rooms ranging from 2500THB to 5000THB (divide it by 30, roughly for Australian dollars, or by 45 for a Euro). But with a half local, or at least someone who speaks Thai fluently, the price goes down to 500TBH.

I spent Wednesday in town, went to have coffee near the train station, walked to the Amulet Market, had lunch there and tried the “century eggs” for the first time. Century eggs aren’t really 100 years old, they’re just a few months old. But they’re not rotten, they’re preserved. It’s a century old tradition though, or more a technique, to preserve eggs in dire times. They are dipped for several weeks in a mixture of water, salt, herbs and god knows what else. When they come out, the shell has turned brown, the egg-yolk has also turned brown, but is solid like it had been boiled, and the egg white has gone gooey, reddish, and the whole thing smells like piss. In fact the literal translation is “horse urine egg”. Indeed it stinks, but once you’ve passed the smell, and the disgusting aspect of the thing, it actually tastes wonderful. Well, wonderful maybe not, but it’s quite good. It’s salty, tastes nothing like an egg, and makes a perfect dish when served with fried basil and rice. And hot chilli.

The tuktuk wanted 150TBH to go back to the station, so I took a bus, 7TBH. Besides, with this traffic, tuktuks aren’t any faster than the bus.
Thurday morning I got a call from Tim, with worrying news. The custom officers want to keep my passport until next Wednesday. That’s going to be an issue, since my plane leaves on Sunday morning and my boss expects me at my desk on Monday 8AM. But Tim’s reputation was well founded and after god knows how many phone calls, he found one guy willing to “overlook” a few aspects of my transaction.

You see, legally, you’re not supposed to remain in a country for more than the visa allows you to. And you aren’t either supposed to drive a foreign car for more than a certain period of time, before your car is considered as an import, rather than transit. So, when you read carefully the Carnet de Passage, it clearly shows I entered the country on November 24th 2013, in Chiang Khong, north of Chiang Rai. And of course, since my passport was stolen two months ago, there is no visa to confirm or deny that I have indeed left the country on December 6th like I pretend.
But Tim has been in this business long enough to know that rules can be bent somewhat. Especially when nobody can show him the actual law that says how long you are allowed to keep a vehicle in Thailand before paying taxes.

Again, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know.

Today I remain in the hotel, ready to go. As soon as Tim hands me my passport over, I can change my flight plan and go back home. I’ve watched the entire Game Of Thrones series, Firefly series, and one or two movies, I am bored to death. I can’t really leave as I might have to go to Tim’s to sign paperwork, beside I’ve already visited Bangkok with Julie and Claire last year, and I’ve already seen enough temples and pagodas yesterday.

If everything goes to plan, Troopy should have her shower today; they’re cleaning her with a toothbrush, ready for Australian Border inspection, and should be loaded into her box tomorrow. The container will be loaded on the ship on Monday and sail off on Tuesday. Depending on the sea condition, it should reach Fremantle on the first week of June.

The only concern now is: will the radiator belt hold? When we opened the bonnet yesterday we noticed the belt was close to snap. It has lost 25% of its integrity on some places, and well over 70% on others. They only have to drive 10kmh to the port, but in this traffic, with this heat, it’ll be ten hot kilometres. It won’t matter so much in Freo because it’s winter in Australia, the engine won’t overheat too much. But here…

Oh well, Tanami is there, he knows what to do.

Distance to-day: 870km, total: 42.727km