The Backpacking Housewife. Janice Horton
my breakfast table in the garden, enjoying tropical fruits and eggs and strong coffee and pondering where in Thailand I should travel to next.
As the tables around me are being taken up, I see there are lots of new people at the homestay today. Up until now, most of the other guests have been young couples or family groups and I’ve felt awkward and self-conscious about being on my own. I’ve honestly never had to have a breakfast at a hotel on my own before this trip. I’ve never been sightseeing on my own before. I’ve never flown on a plane or travelled alone and I’ve found it all rather disconcerting. I’ve thought that other people might be looking at me and judging me in some way for being alone. Silly, I know. But today, I realise, I’m not the only person here travelling solo. Some are younger, but not exclusively. There are one or two who are middle-aged like me. I also get the feeling that no one here feels even the slightest bit awkward for being alone.
In fact, everyone has an attractive aura of confidence and purpose about themselves.
I feel reassured. I don’t have to feel self-conscious or less worthy or invisible anymore.
Today, I feel it is okay to be alone. It is okay to be me.
Not the dull old me – homemaker and housewife – but the new enlightened backpacking me.
I’ve now started introducing myself to people I meet as Lori, not Lorraine.
Having a new name makes me feel different about myself.
As far as I am concerned, Lorraine is still back in the UK – married and betrayed.
Whereas Lori is a world explorer who is on an amazing adventure, meeting new people and having fun in the pursuit of happiness and purpose. Like the monks of Chiang Mai, she carries piety in her heart rather than her ego, and she travels lightly because she doesn’t need material things to represent her wealth. Lori is mindful of her place in the universe.
She is brave and fearless like a lion.
Over breakfast, in the green coolness of the garden, I strike up a conversation with a woman sitting at the table next to mine. She’s English and her name is Polly. I’m guessing, like me she’s in her mid-forties. She tells me she is from London originally and that she is a teacher taking a yearlong sabbatical – time out to travel. I didn’t know people did such a thing.
‘I teach history at a private school in Cheshire, just outside Manchester. But I’ve been travelling for almost a year now. I’m starting to seriously wonder if I’ll ever want to go back to my old job or my old life,’ she says, laughing at the thought of it. ‘I can’t really imagine being stuck in one place again. Travelling is so addictive.’
‘What will happen if you don’t go back?’ I ask.
‘I expect the person covering for me will take my job and I’ll have to find something else to do. I could always teach in Thailand. I’d just need a work visa. I must say I’m very tempted.’
I smile. ‘It sounds to me like you’ve already made up your mind.’
‘And what about you, Lori. Do you have a job waiting for you in the UK?’
I shrug. ‘I was a housewife. But, like you, I now realise I have other options.’
‘So how long do you plan to stay in Thailand?’ she asks me.
‘Well, I only have a thirty-day tourist visa and I’ve used up seven of those days already, but I’m thinking of heading south. I hear the islands on the Andaman Sea are stunning and, for some reason, I feel the need to be by the sea right now. Somewhere to relax in the sunshine.’
Polly rolls her eyes in pleasure. ‘Oh, yes. Tiny tropical islands, palm trees, white sand beaches, warm clear waters. It’s known as the Maldives of Thailand down there. From Krabi, you can island hop all the way down the Andaman Sea to Langkawi in Malaysia. I did it earlier this year. You really should go. Three weeks might be long enough, if you pace it right’
I stare at her in wide-eyed wonder and in envy of her confidence.
‘And do you think it’s best to fly back to Bangkok en route to Krabi?’ I ask her.
Polly sips her coffee and shakes her head. ‘I’d suggest from here you take the train to Bangkok and then the bus over to Krabi. Then you can use a combination of ferries and long-tail boats to take you all the way down the coast stopping off at as many islands as you wish.’
I take out my notebook and jot down her advice on a new page that I’ve titled, ‘Top Travel Tips’.
‘And so, when I eventually reach Malaysia, what would you recommend I see there?’
‘You should definitely explore Langkawi and then head over to Kuala Lumpur. From KL you can head over to the Malaysian side of Borneo. I spent a month there and highly recommend it.’ She flicks through photos on her phone and shows me one of her holding a gorgeous baby orangutan. ‘This is Peanut. He’s just one year old. He’s just like a human baby. He lives at this orangutan orphanage in Borneo where I volunteered. He was rescued from the jungle and now he gets to play in the nursery with other older orphans and learn the skills that will eventually lead to him being rehabilitated and released back into the forest reserve to live wild once more.’
Little Peanut is so tiny and has such a cute face, with his round bright eyes and spiky red hair.
My heart swells just looking at him. ‘That’s so fantastic. Can anyone go there to help with the orangutans or do you have to have special qualifications?’
‘You don’t need qualifications, although relevant experience might help. I think you just need to care deeply about the animals and the rehabilitation programme. In return, you get meals and lodgings and to help an endangered species. It’s so worthwhile.’
Polly happily scribbles down the name of this sanctuary for me in my notebook.
‘It’s called the Northern Borneo Orangutan Orphanage and it’s run by the Goldman Global Foundation. If you do an internet search it’ll give you all the details and contact information.’
‘Thanks Polly. I’ll look into it. I loved doing voluntary work back in the UK for various causes, including animal charities, so maybe they’d consider all of that relevant experience. And, just to recap, you say that taking a train is far the best way for me to get from here down to the coast?’
‘Yes. It’s a bit of a journey but it’s the cheapest and certainly the most scenic way to get back to Bangkok from here. It’ll take either all day or all night, but that’s part of the fun, right?’
I feel so glad that I’ve met Polly. She’s inspired me with confidence, given me some brilliant travel tips, and provided me with a lifeline as to how I might find direction and purpose in my new life. Later on, I check the train timetable and the bus route that she’d suggested to me.
I find she was right about the train taking all day or all night, as you could choose either the daytime train or the nighttime sleeper for the twelve-hour journey to Bangkok. Polly had said that travellers, especially backpackers, generally prefer the night train as it saves on the cost of a hostel and the fare for both journeys is much the same.
Conversely, I eventually decide on taking the daytime train, because that way I’ll get to spend the whole day looking out of the window at the Thai countryside as I travel from north to south. I’m not at all fazed by the length of the journey. I’m already hooked on the romantic notion of taking an old train on what is said to be an iconic journey through Thailand.
It sounds to me like a great adventure.
Although, on further investigation, I think Polly has rather underplayed the second leg of the trip from Bangkok to Krabi by bus. I discover this journey will take another gruelling ten hours or possibly longer. So, I make an executive decision for myself and decide, that after taking the daytime train, I’ll save being squashed into a small bus in the pitch dark with lots of sweaty hippies heading to full moon parties on the beach and spend a bit extra on staying overnight