Hello Thailand!

I arrive at Sydney Airport three hours before departure. Forgot a traveller’s cheque two months ago, run from pillar to post and back to get it back. Qantas only found it again at the gate. I have a crash landing before departure: British Airways has changed its baggage rules again. Drastic. I knew about it thanks to HP, but didn’t want to believe it.

I bought my round-the-world ticket a year ago. Because I was allowed to take 23kg of kite luggage for free. Now British Airways prohibits the carriage of any boards. Halfway round the world and then you’re allowed to leave half your luggage behind. Unimaginable for normal travellers. For kiters, everyday life from now on. Read the whole story at Oase.

With a lot of luck and an angel, I get the kiteboard onto the plane. But I can’t enjoy the flight any more. I love kitesurfing. Anyone who separates me from my kiteboard rips my wings off. Firstly it hurts, secondly it’s expensive and thirdly it makes me as unpredictably impulsive as a Monchichi on crack.

In Bangkok, I take a taxi to my hotel in the city centre. I had imagined Bangkok to be more like Cairo. At night, the hundreds of tower blocks look more like Kuala Lumpur. Every building over 15 metres tall has flashing red lights. Shortly before the Buddhist New Year, concrete Christmas trees blink in competition. a 30km taxi costs 8 euros. What a marvellous structure to Australia! My hotel is near the river. By Aussie time, I fall into bed at four o’clock.

In Thailand time, I get up again at six. I have my first breakfast before the sun rises: chicken with sweet chilli sauce. Then I take a longboat and try to get used to the morning temperature of 25 degrees in the breeze. No tourists here. Good. The gold of the Buddhist temples glistens in the rising sun. A two-hour journey costs less than a euro.

First stop. Another food market. I’m travelling without a plan, so every place along the way must be a sign. This one commands my left nostril: eat more! So I do. Everything smells incredibly rich, delicious, unfamiliar. I want to get to know everything, taste it five kilos! I treat myself to juices, milk, pineapple, nuts and flowers. I’m not sure whether the latter were really for eating. But they smelled and tasted delicious.

On foot back through the centre. A thousand temples, military parade, hustle and bustle and smog. Thais are Michael Jackson fans. Non-smokers wear the same teasing face-libs. The rest improve the inhaled air by smoking.

Besides, there are no rubbish bins in Bangkok, anywhere. And no models. Every modelling job is done by the king: Kine with camera, Kine with toilet paper, Kine with gibberish. Everywhere. Imagine someone here bowing down in front of a poster with Angie and aspirin. No wonder Thais are always grinning. I feel the same way here.

By around 11 a.m. I’ve already eaten twice my basic intake. Only every tenth street sign has an English name. For a while I try Thai navigation, the “Go to the curl. Don’t cross the snaking line and don’t catch three parallel lines.” Too time-consuming in the long run. I get lost, return to the hotel and eat a seventh breakfast. Then I’m ready for the sleep of the jetlagged.

So nice to finally see something new again. I’m hungry for food, people and buildings again. In Australia, I was unsure whether I was tired of travelling or the country was boring. The country was.