First trip to Bangkok View
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I told this story sitting in Chesa restaurant in Bangkok recently. It is about how I first came to Bangkok. The folks listening thought it interesting; later they insisted I was crazy. For me it is just another entry in my life; another day. Please tell me what you think.
I almost made it, the drive from Zermatt to Courmayeur. However a couple or three hours later I arrived at the Mont Blanc tunnel to find that it was completely and effectively blocked.
This was achieved by less than twenty huge trucks; there was, literally, no entry to the Mont Blanc tunnel. The trucks - you know the kind I refer to here don’t you - had blocked it all off. They’re huge; they are the eight wheelers (or more) that you see on the road.
As a result of this blockade there was no way to reach Courmayeur in Italy from Chamonix in France. Just a few trucks to do the job mind, but how many big trucks do you need to close a tunnel? Not many I can assure.
Anyway I knew where to cross, the Grand St. Bernard tunnel; that would be open. All I had to do was go back to Martigny in Switzerland and start the long climb. This was 40km upward and onward from Martigny and around 2,0000 meters high. But what the hell, the Grand St. Bernard tunnel was a sure fire way to Courmayeur.
There was good reason to travel to the Italian Monte Bianco resort of Courmayeur. Namely the two hotels and a hostel I had leased for the winter. Altogether they had a total sleeping capacity of about sixty souls, possibly of even greater importance (to me) was Italy’s first, all English language ski school. I owned and ran it too. Sanctioned and backed by the lift company this was small in numbers (about 6 teachers) but massive in anticipation.
Anyhoo I made it back to the fantastic resort below Europe’s highest mountain. And just a matter of days before the effects of the trucker’s blockade had settled in.
I, and most others that depended upon skiing tourists for a living realized that we were, in a word, screwed. There were few tourists, skiing or otherwise.
Certainly there were few English speaking guests, and definitely none that belonged to us. That hurt because our own guests were the only ones we were allowed to teach. You see our main market was the American and Canadian military that lived and worked in Europe at that time. Their language was predominantly English.
Over the days the blockade grew in many ways. More trucks, more blocked borders, more violence. All that equaled to (for us) no guests. After all who would visit a resort when newspapers had photos of car windows being broken by truckers swinging baseball bats?
This then went on for a few days. No clients. Go skiing alone or with underemployed friends, come down, get drunk and repeat as necessary. In this case,daily.
Boredom quickly reared its ugly head and, one day when I came down from free mountain skiing, instead of going to the bar or one of our hotels I jumped in my car and headed back to the border I knew was still open. Yep you guessed it; old reliable, the Grand St Bernard tunnel.
I can’t stand another day like this. I got to get outa here I thought as I headed for Geneva airport. Oh, did I mention that except for my ski boots, I was still in my ski clothing?
Anyhoo a couple of hours later I pitched up at Geneva airport and went to the last minute flights counter.
”Get me outa here” I said.
”Where to?” came the somewhat incredulous reply.
” I don’t give a shit. Somewhere warm.” Me again, still in ski get up.
You get the picture. The ticket seller was somewhat amused by this jerk in ski clothing asking to go somewhere warm. Anyway it transpired that there were two flights that evening. One was to Bangkok, the other to Hong Kong both would depart Zurich later that night.
”Stuff it, lets go to Bangkok” No reason was asked and I didn’t know the difference between Bangkok and Hong Kong, having never visited either.
”Done”. Replied the amused seller of dreams. And so, with cooperation from AMEX, it was.
The carrier was Thai Airways; you know the one that is “smooth as silk”.
Well it was, and to top it off I met an older English gentleman on the plane who was going to Australia to witness his daughter’s wedding. He was only too happy to drink his way from Zurich to Bangkok with this weird guy in ski clothing. The Thai stewardesses were only too happy to keep us supplied with free booze. The result was entirely predictable. We both got, er, pissed.
About 12 hours and 12 bottles later we arrived in Bangkok. I stepped off the plane in the mercifully cool, relatively (probably 6AM) early hours of the morning. Still in my ski getup, sweater, jacket, hat et all.
Jeezus H the heat hit me and I was immediately sober. In fact I was gonna die of heat stroke. I rushed inside; air conditioning, air conditioning!
I finally, in a Thai airport boutique, bought some appropriate clothes. Thank goodness for AMEX. My getup of choice? White shorts, white sox, white sneakers and a white T-short. Yea, I had arrived in Bangkok.
My wardrobe choice would soon be another source of amusement, but as they say. “That’s another story”>
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