11,959 km so far.
We had a very short ride on our plates today. So short it is 12:36pm and I am already sitting in the hotel writing this.
I know it sounds a little churlish (or ungrateful) to call cycling through central Thailand boring, but for us, that’s pretty much what it’s been. Most of the towns we’ve stopped in are smudgy carbon copies of each other, the hotels tend to be on the grungy side, and the food scene is unfulfilling (and un-filling).
There really is nothing much here to attract cyclist tourists. Like today’s ride, many are uninspiring treks along busy narrow highways populated by overloaded lorries and speeding pick-up trucks.
This part of Thailand reminds us of China (even though it’s much quieter and a little cleaner here).
So, what does one do when cycling and culture conspire to be uninspiring? We throw on the headphones and make our own fun.
My music today was a hip-hop playlist I threw together a couple of nights ago on Spotify. So, as trucks zoomed past us and we zoomed past more roadkill than I care to see – birds, lizards, and one giant python! – my ears were engaging in an entirely different world.
A world where the size of one’s money pile is the measure of the man. And for ladies, it’s all about how big your booty is and how low you can drop it to the ground. A world where hanging in da club and downing Patron are the pinnacle of culture. A world where all women are bitches and all men are dawgs.
Most of the outrageously hilarious lyrics I could quote here is not family appropriate. But this, from Awkwafina’s NYC Bitche$ was one of my almost G-rated favourites.
New York City bitch, that’s where I come from
Not where I moved to on Mom and Dad’s trust fund
New York City bitch, that’s how I’m rolling
You out-of-state fakes get your iPad stolen
All of this ridiculousness powered me down the highway quite nicely, thank you, and before I knew it we were pulling into Sing Buri, which looks a lot like Nakhon Sawan, which looked a lot like Kamphaeng Phet.
Later, in the night market, we saw a girl, about 10 years old, wearing a t-shirt that said “Fuck Hip Hop”, which made us both laugh. We assumed her parents weren’t aware how rude the shirt really was.
Then again, T-shirts with the F-word are quite common here; I don’t think it packs the same wallop as it does at home.
The big difference in Sing Buri was the food. First, we found a street-side stall scrambling eggs on a frying pan the size of a dinner table.
When the sea of eggs was partially cooked, the vendor split them into small portions, piled bean sprouts on top, flipped the whole mess over, and then served them steaming with a side of sweet chilli sauce. What a great appetiser.
After this minor sustenance, we wandered towards the waterfront and found a little cart selling…
Wait for it…
They didn’t even have any meat at the stall. It was straight up veggie Pad Thai. So we ordered two and they were the most delicious Pad Thais we’ve had here. Lots of flavourful tamarind sauce, a little tangy spice, and a whole pile of fresh bean sprouts for extra crunch. If I’d had my druthers, I’d have added an extra handful of crushed peanuts and some chopped tofu.
But even without these extras, it was damn good.
Don’t worry Mom, we aren’t starving just yet. In fact, I was so full after dinner that I didn’t even want to go by Dairy Queen and get a blizzard.
Soundtrack: Douglas Brooks, Tales Of Love & Glory In The Tantric Tradition | bkng – Jane’s hip-hop playlist ♥