The backstage (i.e. what you don’t necessarily wanna hear about travelling on a shoestring)
The horror shack
“Is living like the poor of the world the new glamour?” Those were my thoughts during my one night stay at the cheapest bungalow resort in Tonsai beach. Only a moment earlier I had baptized my hut the “horror shack” due to a series of complimentary optionals designed to make my experience more authentic: continuous, uninterrupted smell of sewage (not to say shit) throughout the whole area, a definitely grubby bed (and you know my standards :-)), holes everywhere - on the walls, the ceiling, the floor – fit for rats larger than cats… flying live electric cables in the toilet, large holes in the mosquito net…
In short: the place had character.
Obviously, the light was not working and the whole resort was pitch dark at night. When I switched on my torch, I found myself walking into the piles of rubbish that were lying at the base of the shack (thank god the rudimentary building was at least elevated from the ground…) I then hear some noises in the bushes and flick my torch in that direction only to be struck in awe by the sight of a huge hairy rodent flashing quickly across the basement and disappearing into the wilderness. Not exactly a sweet goodnight kiss! As I locked myself in to create at least an illusion of safety, I found I was shivering. The smell of shit made me dumb and all I could think of was surviving the night.
No nightmares, no romantic coziness, not a bit of glamour…welcome to the cruel world.
On poverty and rubbish
It’s there, everywhere. You try to turn around and cover your eyes, but it’s in your face and in your nose..
Plastic in all its forms, rusty cans, rotten food…
Then something strikes you. They are there, straight into it, kids play in it…people live all their life beside it without flinching or even thinking of sweeping it away. Massive piles of plastic accumulate at the base of each and single hut. Chickens and seagulls scavenge for a healthy meal. A punch in the face for me, it seems so invisible to them. How’s that possible?
Once, in my wanderings I came across the landfill of Koh Lanta island, a true restaging of hell on earth. Assaulted by flocks of flies and mosquitos hunting for fresh white meat to lay their eggs upon, I biked my ass out and couldn’t help noticing some movement in a carton box on the side of the dirt road. The boy was barely a 5 years old. His hair was pitch black and he smiled at me, as his eyes roll inside large white eyeballs. The flies all around busy in a frantic Dance of Death...