Jolly frogs and Volcano chickens Note: this is rather a crass post, apologies.
Ok, I cannot believe I forgot to tell this story!
So we decided to head east from Bangkok to Kanchanaburi, with a Scottish couple we met, M and S. Our minibus dropped us off right outside a backpackers place called the “Jolly Frog. We decided to stay there on the basis of the excellent décor (we had clouds on our ceiling, a mixed texture of bamboo, concrete and an 80’s paint-splash motif, but most importantly we had a picture hanging on the wall) and the low, low price. There was nice little garden area overlooking the river with hammocks too.
We headed to a 10 baht whiskey bar (literally a street bar with paint drums up turned, a draughts set on a miniature table, and a small belligerent dog named Cocktail who was most angry at the ugly outfit she was wearing; a harlequin dress with tinsel and bells) before heading to another place for a bucket or two where you were awarded upon entry with a free shot of what tasted like potent sloe gin. Tired, I went home early (1ish) Dan and the Scots stayed out ‘til 5 with a Welsh couple E and L who I vaguely remembered meeting that night. Thai whiskey will do that for your memory. The next morning I found myself up early so I got a coffee while Dan slumbered further. I sat in the café area and other than myself were 4 middle aged men, each with a rough looking Thai prostitute. At least they had the decency to buy them breakfast. I felt incredibly queasy, as L later pointed out “you have to wonder what has gone wrong with your life when you’re in your 40’s and you go on holiday for 2 weeks staying in a hole paying 4 quid a night for a room to bang skanky Thai hookers” . Never a truer word spoken.
Later that day we decided to stroll down to the famous bridge, we were told it wasn’t far. It took ages to get there! At least I had a Lipton Peach Iced Tea for the journey. When we finally arrived, it was overrun with tourists. Many people had started to walk across the bridge which was iron and half rotten, holey wooden planks. We’d gotten to the part of the bridge which was over the water when L called over “there’s a train coming”. We thought he was joking, there were hordes of tourists on the tracks, and a few platforms that jutted to the sides. I looked, and sure enough saw the light of a train, and heard the toot of a horn. I was quite in a state of disbelief; it was a bloody big train! We waited and waited for it to pass, as it did some Thai douche (unsuccessfully) made to grab Dan’s camera from around his neck. We decided we’d had enough of the tracks and went to look at the market stalls. We saw some incredible hats, Trilbys made of leopard, tiger or zebra (take your pick from those delectable flavors) velour. Dan tried on the leopard print and looked like he belonged in 70’s LA. We set off to find a whole outfit, found some dreadful silk Hawaiian shirts, native African dress robes and t-shirts with pictures of elephants playing football akin to the 3 wolves howling moon tees that people who think they’re ironic love to wear. I had to laugh when a little old Thai lady scolded us “you buy! YOU NO PLAY!!” We headed back and I got another peach iced tea, and decided to have a delicious meal together in the Jolly Frog’s restaurant. We waited I swear to God 20 minutes for one of the staff to tear themselves away from their gossip/bitching session to come and take our order. . Volcano chicken. A sumptuous whole chicken cooked in plum sauce. It cost 3 quid and a whole chicken would feed 6 of us with sides. What we got was far beyond our wildest expectations. The chicken was served impaled and upright on the dish and resembled Isla Nublar, a small island off the coast of Costa Rica that had once hosted Jurassic Park. Green foliage surrounded the plum sauce at the base of the chicken/volcano, and we were presented with spoon and fork to carve. I’d like it to be noted here that earlier that day, Dan had been presented with a steak knife for fried eggs. The fruits of the volcano were a delight- it literally was a whole chicken; head attached, beak and all. It should also be said that M was still feeling hung over and so utterly repulsed by the whole affair, which only made me more hysterical- I still feel a little guilt at laughing so much. L was the only one man enough to attempt to carve, and served up neck shaft, wing and some meat. The chicken itself was actually pretty good, but I thought M was going to run away when we discovered its little feet talons and all, tucked up inside itself. I nearly died laughing. 
Unsurprisingly we were still hungry so we headed to the Seven-Eleven and got a ham and cheese toasty and iced tea. Later that night, we discovered how the hostel had gotten its name. Walking back to our room Dan kicked a frog, totally by accident. He didn’t see it as he strolled down the pathway. I did see it, and I also saw a rather large rat chowing down on leftovers on a table the staff could not be bothered to clear before they went home. It was a big, big rat. I can honestly say there’s no love lost between myself and such rodents, I did not sleep at all that night, terrified it would it crawl under our door and onto my face for dessert.
I woke early, about seven the next morning, completely unrefreshed and haggard, stumbled into the bathroom for morning ablutions, stumbled back out and retched violently for five minutes. The humidity, the heat, the fact our bathroom had a non-flushing toilet with no lid, no bum-washer hose, and the bin hadn’t been emptied made me violently ill. It was the most terrible smell I have ever had the misfortune to inhale (and I’m from downwind of Widnes), and the worst thing about it was that it consumed the thick, humid air, forced its way to the back of my throat. I almost wept. Dan was awake, fuming, not because I’d woken him- I’m a master at silent despair, but because a guy in the room adjacent, or above, or probably across the garden was playing Angry Birds on his iPhone. He stopped when Dan screamed at him. It could have been worse, we didn’t hear the incessant whore-banging that E and L had been subjected to by their middle aged neighbor. Desperate to get out of the room I went and bought a peach iced tea. That day we headed to the stunning Erawan waterfalls, though I will admit I was too much of a wimp to go in the freezing water, I just played photographer with Dan’s camera and watched a monkey taunt a dog.
I had my first fishing experience in Kanachanaburi. We decided one afternoon to go fish as L had seen a posters advertising a plaice (yes I did just type that) we could go. Now, normally you can’t walk down a street without being harassed by tuk-tuk drivers. We hunted one down, sat on the pavement smoking and he quoted us 100 baht. We found one other driver who didn’t know where we wanted to go and couldn’t read a map we’d peeled off a lamp post. Resigned, we went back to the first guy who’d then quoted us 150 the second time around. I guess he really didn’t want to work that day. We set off down the road and eventually flagged one down. Four of us squeezed into the side cage with the driver’s portly wife. The bike barely moved. Later that afternoon we arrived, greeted by a vicious sounding, rather large dog that was thankfully chained. We got kitted up and set off for the large ponds. L was the first to catch a sizeable fish, I have no idea what type. Next was E, who honest to God caught a catfish as big as myself. She needed help holding it for the photo, I can’t imagine how heavy it was. I was determined, not at all put off by the unleashed dog that had been watching me from behind a tree. It was Dan’s turn next, he caught a baby catfish. Their whiskers always make me laugh. I was desperate now, and headed back to the pond where E had caught Moby Dick. Now the entire time we were there, the first angry dog had barked continuously. But out of the corner of my eye I noticed five dogs spread around the perimeter of this pond. Some tied to a post, some free as the wind. I steeled myself against them and stood my ground when one of them started barking furiously. The free dogs started to move to the leashed dog and suddenly, out of the bushes I saw why the dogs were so aggravated- a bloody big Komodo dragon. Or crocodile. Or velociraptor. It was huge, whatever it was, and fast. It stared out the dog closest to it for a long ten seconds and then scurried into pond. Forget fishing, I wanted to catch the monster from the deep. I’ll be honest here, I cast my line once more before the fear got the better of me and I ran away to the other pond where the other guys were, resigned to the fact that I wouldn’t catch anything and that I was a wimp. It was getting dark and we decided to go home. The tuk-tuk that had brought us to the fishing place had somehow psychically returned, again with his wife who took up much of the room and took us home, not before angry dog tried to eat me as I walked past (at distance). We got back, and I got myself a delicious peach iced tea. I couldn’t face the prospect of our room for much longer, the rats or the useless staff and so I begged Dan to go back to Bangkok to kill time before we left for Hong Kong. We left the next day, myself with a harrowing addiction to Lipton’s Peach flavoured iced tea, Dan with the knowledge that he is a better fisherman than me, and both of us with memories of a hilarious and also disturbing few days.
