First impressions

I woke up at about 8am local tme, meaning I’d had about two hours sleep in the last 24 hours, and looked around me. The guy was in the bed next to mine is all geared up, and we waves goodbye as he leaves the dorm, leaving me alone. I’m sweating like mad, and I soon discover this because none of the four fans in the room were actually pointing at my bed. As I sit up I notice the source of my discomfort through the night – my bed has an enourmous depression in the middle from years of straining under the weight of heavy foreigners. I’m not exactly small, so by the end of my stay the depression was practically touching the floor (photos don’t do it justice). 

I stumble outside, and follow my nose to a street stall where I get some cheap fried rice for breakfast (it was either that or fried chicken). I realise I haven’t had any water since I left Melbourne except the occasional cup on the plane, so I buy a bottle as well. I go for a walk, but everything is still closed, it’s really hot and I soon get totally disorientated. Eventually I find my hostel again, and make the long slog upstairs to the dorm and spend the rest of the day sleeping. I try a couple of times to explore the town, but a combination of having no idea where I am or where to get basic supplies, having had no conversation in 24 hours, and being hot and sweaty meant that I invariably ended up back at the dorms feeling crushed and defeated. 

Awwwwww.

Soon enough though things got better. Another backpacker (and English guy called Phil) rocked up, so I found out where some of the good eating spots are, and where I can get water. At 11pm Ariel comes storming through the door shooting his mouth of at a million miles an hour, and before I know it the three of us are hitting the town to have a few beers.

The most direct route to the beach and all the bars and nightclubs from our place is through an incredibly seedy alley which we affectionately called “The Gauntlet”. Running the Gauntlet is no small feat. Each “massage parlour” on the way has a whole squad of girls who form what would be an excellent zone defense in a number of sports. They fan out and together block the whole alley, they side step to intercept us with their shrill battle cries of “YOU WANT MASSAGE? BIG STRONG MAN!”, and they clutch at our sleeves and refuse to let go. I let one of the others go first. He is the sacrificial lamb. He is immediately pounced upon by the she-demons, and I quickly feign one direction and dodge in the other. I swat a hand from my shirt and I’m home free. Behind me Phil is gallantly forcing his way through, all the while teasing the girls with promises of “maybe tomorrow”. We made it! I look up the alleyway.

Six more massage parlours to go.