One can only get so far on foot, especially in a hot, tropical climate. After two weeks of living in a tiny village without any independent means of transport I was beginning to feel a little marooned. To alleviate this creeping sense of isolation, I purchased a bicycle on a recent trip to Ranong. This may well be the best decision I have and will make the entire trip. I decided to name my bicycle Yanni for two reasons:
1) It’s a lot easier to say than Cha-ka-YAN (The Thai word for bicycle), and;
2) I get to use the name “Yanni” repeatedly in casual conversation. “Yanni and I are going to the beach!”… Or my personal favorite: “Yanni is taking me to lunch.”
Yanni has a number of redeeming qualities that contribute to his utter supremacy in cyclitude:
- He is PINK!!!
- He has a basket in the front (perfectly lap-top sized)
- Pedal-powered headlight and tail lights
- An extra padded seat over the back wheel
- And the number one feature (Can you handle the suspense?).… A plastic “Hello Kitty” squeaky horn on the handlebars.
Yanni (left) and Miss Hello Kitty (right)
I believe it wasn’t until I decided to test out Yanni’s supposed double-person capacity that I truly won the hearts of my Thai neighbors. I was picking AJ up from the bus stop on the only corner in the village. It was market day, and the entire intersection was a chaotic swarm of villagers buying various groceries and trinkets for the week. The whole thing must have been rather surreal to poor AJ, who after 24 hours of grungy bus rides from Siem Reap, had spent 5 additional hours just trying to make it the last 20km from Kura Buri to Kamphuan.
I have no idea what the bystanders at the bus stop must’ve thought when they saw me pedal up and enthusiastically jump off to embrace my old friend. Thais aren’t huge into PDA (public displays of affection), even the non-romantic type. AJ was practically too exhausted to speak, so I told him to climb onto Yanni’s little back seat. He obliged and clamored aboard, heavy pack and all.
I hadn’t quite anticipated that the added weight of one 6-foot plus male plus backpack would cause me to lose nearly all control of the handlebars. My arms swung in a wide arc from left to right and back as we wobbled and began to accelerate crookedly down a little hill. I was terrified, but laughing uncontrollably as I squeaked the little “Hello Kitty” horn to warn a group of market-goers standing directly ahead. They scattered like frazzled chickens and laughed hysterically as we barreled past them down the road.
Since he came into my life, Yanni has provided numerous opportunities for self-humiliation. One memory in particular stands out: Me pedaling towards a pair of bearded and stern looking Muslim clerics, dressed head to foot in white skullcaps and robes. I was trying my best to look dignified and respectable, to present myself in a professional manner and represent my country and hemisphere in a favorable light. Just as I smiled and emitted my best “SAWAT DEE KAA” (hello), a gust of wind blew my skirt wide open, and in a hectic scramble to close it and compose myself, I nearly crashed into a pole while eliciting an accidental shriek from the little “Hello Kitty” horn. Nice.
Sometimes kids will just run alongside as I pedal along, practicing their English: “HELL-OOOOO FARANG”! “WHAT YOUR NAME?!!” Yanni has certainly caused me some embarrassment, but making a spectacle of myself has also helped me to make some friends along the way. And pedaling sure is a faster way to get around.
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