Banglamphu to Sukothai

Despite the lip service paid by travelers to the pursuit of authentic experiences and tourism geared only at what are ironically referred to as "non-touristic" destinations, there is an uncanny draw to the ever present tourist ghetto. Inevitably when the breathtaking beauty and mind-expanding culture of an exotic destination have taken their toll the backpacker begins to long for the comfort of overpriced beer and knock-off designer sunglasses. They long for Khao San Road in Banglamphu.

Leaving Sukhumvit I bus slowly through the chaotic Bangkok traffic to Khao San. Like residents of L.A., tourists in Khao San are defined by their disdain for the place. But whether because the hangovers last well past the checkout time at your guesthouse or the fact that the fifteen minute tuk-tuk ride to the bus station is likely to kill your whole travel budget, they simply can't seem to escape.
My initial objective was to set up camp for a few days and figure out the first leg of my journey, which had been shamelessly under researched, and possibly meet a few fellow travelers along the way. After two days in a pleasant yet astonishingly boring hotel and countless lonely treks up and down Khao San and nearby Rambuttri Road waving off an endless stream of touts and would-be masseurs I craved a change of scenery so I said goodbye to my A/C and roof top pool and moved to the impressively smelly and appropriately inexpensive Bamboo Guest House on the less maddening east side of town. The bed was rock hard, the bathroom shared, finally I felt like a traveler again.
Immediately things took a turn for the better. Soon enough I had a grassroots backpacker posse to call my own and even a hip hangout just off the main drag to while away the afternoon hours between sleeping and drinking--the only two viable pastimes in Banglamphu. I became a fixture at Sawasdee, a roadside quadruple threat (cafe, restaurant, bar and guest house) on Rambuttri, along with my new Irish pals Niall and David where we would sit chatting and drinking Nescafe, bottled water and, eventually, Singha and picking up the occasional straggler to join us for a round.
But it's not just the tourists partying this week. It's the week of the beloved Thai King's birthday and the local festivities are running full force. Most of the Thais in the city not to mention a few bandwagon farangs (Thai for gringo) don yellow t-shirts with the royal crest to honor their demigod, King Bhumibol Adulyadej, universally adored as a model of compassion and wisdom. Thousands of loyal subject pack the streets for hours in anticipation of the King's procession replete with Royal Rolls Royce to roll on by. I make a pilgrimage to his Grand Royal Palace to pay my respects and witness the awe inspiring temples and intricate mosaic work firsthand.
Gleaning information from my backpacking brethren the first part of my journey began to take shape and it was soon time to pry myself from Bangkok. After the obligatory perusal of the Palace and a few long nights of carousing with the boys, highlighted by our participation in an exhilarating twilight hour tuk-tuk race it was time to leave the hemp jewelry and hangovers of Banglamphu behind me for the culture road North.

I hop a taxi to the Northern bus station to catch a seven hour bus to Sukothai. The ancient Thai capital of Sukothai thrived in the 13th and 14th centuries before it's destruction and replacement by Ayuthaya, the predecessor to Bangkok. The new city, less than spectacular, has a few guest houses and restaurants and acts mainly as a jumping off point to explore the old city ruins about 14km west. I rent a bike and spend the morning touring around the red brick temple and giant Buddhas of the old city before the crowds begin to filter in.But one day in New Sukothai is plenty so it's right back on the bus, this time for a six hour ride to my next destination: the moated Northern city of Chiang Mai.