Overcoming Entomophobia (fear of flying insects).

Anyone who knows me, or anyone who has me on snapchat (prees/knows me), knows that me and insects do not get along, flying ones if we’re being specific. Miss me with that. Now, on this two month back packing journey, I really wanted to challenge myself. Not with insects, or consumption of them before you get any ideas, but by partaking in a trek. So, I did just that. What I had not considered was the insects that live in the jungles I was about to spend three days and two nights in. Dad told me before I’d left that he didn’t know how I was going to manage with all the insects, then he changed his tune to a more positive one and said, “well, who knows maybe it will cure you”. I’ll cut to the chase, without boring you with the excruciating details of how I survived. I was not cured. Worse case scenario of my fear increasing didn’t occur, thank God; it didn’t get better either. But I was able to see butterflies, yes butterflies, or other flying insects zoom within an inch of my face at one million miles per hour, without screaming. Lool joke. Screamed my little heart out mate. But by the third day when the buzz of a wasp came by my ear, I reduced myself to a pathetic wince, whilst instantly drawing my hands up to cover both my ears. Screaming just as loudly but on the inside this time. Day one, if I thought that a few weeks out of the gym would reduce me to a sweaty, breathless mess trudging like an overweight sausage dog through a swamp. I would have stayed I’m gym. What made me feel better though, was that everyone else was equally as sweaty and breathless. If not worse.

Our first day really only consisted of a three hour trek predominantly upwards. Anyone who has visited Thailand will know that the local corner shop/ mini supermarket here is called “7eleven”. Reason being, those are the opening hours. So as you can imagine, after scrambling across uneven makeshift bridges 10+ foot in the air over jagged rocks or shallow running water if we were lucky. We were ecstatic when our guide told s there would be a “7eleven” in just a few minutes; where we could purchase any necessary water, a soft drink or a beer if that took your fancy. So when we arrived at a little shack in the middle of nowhere to see a little old man with an ice box. We all laughed, I mean… Supermarket in the jungle? I don’t think so. The fact that the bridges were part made of bamboo, part random felled trees, a little bit of bike tyre and possibly some shredding rope for extra support; trudging through a rice field with a bull eying me up was the least of my worries. Not. What came as a surprise to me was that my trek included an elephant ride, the trek ‘meeting’ I’d had the day prior lasted 3 minutes and after telling us what time we would get picked up and what to bring, “do you have any questions?” Closed the meeting and that was that. So when we arrived, I didn’t say no to riding the elephants because I’ve always wanted to. However, it was 1) soul destroying and 2) very traumatic. I would never, ever do it again. I would recommend anyone against doing it, but make up your own mind as I did.

Our elephant ride started off so smoothly, actually it didn’t, they walk really oddly and so you end up looking like a bobbing dog in someone’s rear windscreen. But you know what I mean, no hiccups. We climbed up the rickety wooden steps to a platform tall enough for us to board our elephants. I was sat with an Italian guy called Ricardo from my group. The two friends I had made, Becca and Tassia, had sat out and rightly so (in my humble opinion). We safely boarded our elephants, and began our half hour elephant ride, we started by briefly walking in a river. Why did the elephant cross the river? To take great big dump, a quick sprinkle, but most importantly to get to the other side. What I hadn’t noticed was that a Polish couple in our group’s elephant decided to crouch down and submerge itself in the river and attempted to shake them off into the water. When failing, it soaked them repeatedly by sucking up water in its trunk, before eventually, following the orderly cue of the elephants before it. Our elephant eventually began ignoring the commands of our instructor and I could hear the tone of his voice becoming more aggressive with the elephant. He just wanted to eat trees and chill as would any teenage elephant. Our elephant had clearly had enough, backed up on to a tree and started rubbing its bum on it. I knew this was not a good sign, he continued to back it up like the girls in a club on a Saturday who still come to praise Jesus on Sunday and managed to unhook our seat from his tail, I started quietly panicking whilst trying to explain to our instructor (who’s English was minimal) what the elephant had done and that it needed to be hooked back on. To which he kept responding with a laugh, followed by “my English not so good, sorry”. Eventually when I said, “stop” and pointed, he understood. All the while Ricardo was attempting to reassure me that it was fine. It wasn’t. Our instructor got the instructor of the elephant in front who was walking along side his elephant to put the loop back around the elephants tail. He did and we continued walking for all of about 10 seconds. Our elephant completely stopped cooperating, raised up its trunk made a huge whale of a noise (whats the sound elephants make called?) and charged, full pelt, charged. I was holding on for dear life, what a way to get to know a stranger! I didn’t know elephants could run, and since I now know they can, I know that my elephant is the Usain Bolt of the elephant world, and had his plan succeeded, he would have successfully had us crash to the floor beneath us. Elephants are not to be ridden. You can take my word for it, if you’re wise. Or you can ride one anyway like I did. Either way it’s up to you, but I can say from experience. They do not like it, they’re very intelligent animals and know what they want and don’t want, being ridden isn’t on their to do list.

We then continued our upward venture, where we briefly stopped at a waterfall and continued trudging on t’ward our mountainside cabin. A really big cabin, but still a cabin and I was grateful, because I thought we’d be in tents which wouldn’t hold up against the downpour of the surrounding rainforest like jungle. It was really spacious we had several blankets of which we could lay on our hand woven material which dictated our bed space. As well as an extremely thin quilt that it was too hot to use, but I still used anyway because, well because I didn’t want bugs crawling over me in my sleep. I noticed no one in my group had been greeting the mountain people, that’s just in my nature to do, so the next person I saw, I greeted. “Sawat dee caa” I called to the gentleman crouched down washing clothes, which means hello. He just carried on doing what he was doing, and ignored me. Or so I thought, I said “well that was rude” then my tourguide, who also lives in the mountain village said to me “his ears are broken”, meaning he was deaf.

Day two, all my group except myself and Ricardo, made their way back to the concrete jungle of Chiang Mai, (it’s no concrete jungle but in comparison to the jungle jungle, it was) as they had only been booked on for two days one night. Which if I had known was an option, I too would have opted for. The second day, Ricardo and I completed the most minuscule of treks, we walked through the village and visited a primary school and nursery! Before making our way to a rice field. We’re we sat underneath the love shack of some couple who manned the field. The wife was cooking some vegetables on the stove with a side of fried mouse, whilst the husband was smoking. It was actually one of the most peaceful experiences, surprisingly. We all sat in silence in admiration of each other, the language barrier so profound. Yet we were all so content.

So the second night, was just Ricardo and I in the same room that only the night before had held all ten of us. Now it felt oversized and the cockroaches got brave. I decided on an early night whilst Ricardo socialised with the newbies in the camp next door (one family away). As I got into the pitch black tomb, room* sorry. I put the flashlight on, on my phone and propped it up on top of a plug socket, so I could make my bed with some light. I did so with my back to the light. When I had finished making my bed, I turned around and much to my astonishment and dismay, a huge cockroach was just chilling, stationary in a pool of light on the floor, so I grabbed a blanket from the bed next to me and whacked it towards the door. I heard it hit a wall so I new I’d missed the gap under the door. Frantically I scanned the room till I saw it and successfully hit it out under the gap in the door.

Satisfied that I was now alone in the room, I got into my bed and looked through the pictures I’d taken for the day (there’s no signal in the mountains) well there is, but not in the rural village home stay we were in. Surrounded, by pigs, cows chickens and ducks, with the kind of red mud ground you’ve only seen as clay. It was blissful, but not when you turn the outside lights on over the dinner table as it gets dark, because that’s just an attack of the massive flying ants that rush in partly because of the light and partly as shelter from the rain but soon die. Probably because they have a short life span, but also because the goose gobbled them up as soon as they caught its sight.

From Chiang Mai I made my way southwards by overnight train. I’d been warned about the night sleeper trains in Thailand; how there’s is a measly curtain that you pull across your makeshift bed to separate a sleeping you from the outside world. How people take all kinds of drugs in the toilet, it doesn’t feel very safe but it does its job and you have a place to lie. So at 16:23 as I boarded my night sleeper train due to depart at 17:00 on a Sunday afternoon. I was a little apprehensive. I had asked as many questions at the information/ ticket office as possible, double checking that the agent I booked with hadn’t ripped me off more than I’ve already been made aware of. “So do I have a sleeper?” I asked doubtfully to the lady on the other side of the glass? “Yes, sleeper. Yes.” She responded. “So I’ll have a bed to sleep on?” I asked just to reassure myself. “Yes, you have a sleeper ma’am.” Brilliant I thought to myself as I walked off. What isn’t so brilliant, is that following this 13 hour train journey from one of the northern most points of Thailand (Chiang Mai) back to the central capital (Bangkok). I was supposed to be going on an equally lengthy journey to Cambodia, a bordering country; just for a week (by bus). But the agent I booked with insisted I didn’t need a visa for entry with my British passport, but in actual fact after googling because I didn’t trust him. I do. Though it doesn’t cost much to get one, to be quite frank I can not be bothered. Get me to the beach! After, going to the most trusty answer provider in the world. Google (sarcasm). Or is it? I decided to call back my agent and reconfirm. To which he now decided to tell me, I do need a visa, but I pay on entry. “Ok, well I’d like my money back, I didn’t budget for that” I’d actually just made a £110 saving, by cancelling the accommodation he had prepared for me in Cambodia and booking my own, a nicer one which included breakfast. For £27 for seven nights. *holla at me for bargains* . But it was the principle and I wasn’t that fussed whether I went or didn’t.

I had changed a small amount of money into Cambodian riel, just so I could get buy on arrival.. Aside from £20 to hand, I had rinsed my last Thai baht (THB) on a pedicure, offering in church and the transport to and from church. So long story short I couldn’t buy anything. Fortunately I had about 25 Thai baht left, and I had given my hotel some Massaman curry I cooked at my cooking class two days earlier to keep in the fridge, so I ordered some rice from the hotel for 10 THB and ate them together before packing my bags to embark on my southward journey. What I hadn’t accounted for were, the day and night travelling and that I’d actually need THB just to get by until I arrive.

Fast forwarding back to the train journey, it was one of the best sleeps I’ve had here. I was so confused when I got on the train and my seat wasn’t a bed. Instead a brown leather single chair. With an equally as brown leather chair facing it, I tried pulling at a tab that was hanging out, to see if it miraculously turned into a bed, it didn’t. So I sat down, a little bit hungry but more excited about what was to come. By nine pm, the man I thought was train security, was rushing through the carriages, coaxing people out of their seats. He pulled down what I thought were overhead lockers, and in them contained the contents to make two beds. One bed was the “top bunk” made from the overhead locker, the other the two leather seats, pulled out together to make a rather comfortable bed. To which he laid my bed sheets, pulled down a cotton bed cover wrapped in plastic (clearly been through laundry) and a pillow. I slept a solid 9 hours. Arriving at 6:15 am in Bangkok. I had booked into the “oh so Bangkok” hostel. In a different area to where I had previously stayed in Bangkok. This was within walking distance from the famous “Khao San” road, I don’t care how famous it is, unless you’re a drinker, it’s just an over expensive market place with a few sleazy men, a large amount of backpackers who only want to party, and countless clubs. So I was excited that I’d booked myself for a flight to Phuket. I stayed only 3 days mind you. Today (Saturday 3rd) I caught a ferry from Phuket to “Koh Phi Phi” (pronounced Co-pee-pee). And it is beautiful. Head over to my Instagram @gorging.globally to see pictures. If you enjoyed this read. Please give it a clap.

Big hugs,

Tesni xx

Originally published at tesnithetastebudtraveller.blogspot.com