April 2, 2026

The day has arrived that I will be leaving this lovely burg, and perhaps the moment that really drives home the fact that I am truly on the road again. Not only with the sense of packing yet again, but completely consumed with all the problematics of traveling, of which there are always enough.

The trampling that lasted well into yesterday night continues as I emerge from my hazy, light sleep — despite lying on top of two skimpy duvets, I can barely relax on the hard surface, hopefully not an experience that will be typical of the other hotels I will be staying in during my trip in the country.

Fortunately I have several takeout trays of food from the market yesterday, although predictably, the food is largely flavourless and at best filling; however seductively the food may be presented on the trays at the market stands, you can’t expect very much when the cost is two servings for ฿50. Little of the visually appealing ingredients are included, and most of the content is tasteless filler.

I still have lots of juice and water, but that is always valuable in this hot climate. Except that carrying it can be punishing, as I will find out later on.

I carefully pack, being sure to visually sweep the small room and attached bathroom for any miscellaneous possessions I may have forgotten. It is so easy to accidentally leave things behind when traveling, and one of the techniques that go toward not doing so is ensuring that one’s possessions are unpacked and organized in the same manner in each place that you stay.

One last journey through town in a Bolt car, the level of comfort far greater than sitting at the back of a motorcycle, but not for that much more money. The city of Korat is largely anodyne and lacking in character, although it will be one of the larger entrepots I will pass through in the Isan region.

I am deposited at the Nakhon Ratchasima Bus Terminal 2, which consists of a broad paved concourse surrounded by open-faced buildings dotted with ticket wickets. Passengers and bus workers mill about; Roman-scripted signage for destinations is only occasionally visible, and it doesn’t look like this is an environment to be looking for English speakers. At each building, I am pointed to the next building, finally arriving at the building at the back of the lot.

I manage to buy a ticket for Nang Rong, but am not sure how to proceed. I am turned away from the minibus that is apparently heading to the town, but am not sure as to why. I look around at the locals gathered on the seats in the outdoor waiting area, hoping that the men I take to be attendants for the bus company to be watching out for the passengers. The bus that had been parked in quay 5 pulls out, and another one pulls into quay 6; most of the seated locals get up and line up at the bus, and when I ask one of the men who seems to be employed by the company “Nang Rong”, making an expression that looks for acknowledgement, he nods and points me toward the bus.

On the map, the region between Korat and Nang Rong would appear to be largely deserted countryside, but in fact is anything but. Cramped into my seat under a vent of cold air — which will probably be instrumental in driving what was an innocent cold to bronchitis — seated behind an older monk at the front of the vehicle, I see the seemingly relentless urban and commercial sprawl finally dissipate some ten kilometres from the centre of Korat. For the remaining journey of some 90 km, there are few stretches that are truly countryside, with no residential, commercial, or industrial facilities. Despite the less than stellar degree of maintenance visible in the human environment, there is no question that Thailand has a substantial amount of industry, visible even this far into the countryside. And the land itself is far from memorable, flat, uninspiring, a combination of agricultural land and scrub.

Despite appearing to be so close on the map, the journey takes several hours, much more time than I would have expected, and a good reason to leave far earlier in the morning than I did. While it may seem like a boon to be able to check out as late as possible, it effectively means that the rest of the day is wasted, as by the time I am settled in at my destination, it will be quite late. Not that the town I am heading to won’t have its own special brand of challenges.

At the diminutive Nang Rong bus station, I think little of the few taxi drivers milling about, and consider that perhaps I could enjoy a good coffee somewhere nearby, surprised that a town this small would even have fancy coffee establishments. The Chann Terrace seems to be somewhat of an anomaly in the residential and commercial fringes of town, but it is very much a reflection of the town in general. The coffee selection is good, here — as I have seen elsewhere — featuring coffees prepared with various fruit extracts, the yuzu espresso on ice simply spectacular, and apparently made from an unsweetened extract. When it comes time to hail a vehicle to take me to my hotel, I can’t seem to commandeer vehicles of any sort using Grab or Bolt — perhaps if I walk some distance and try again?

Walking sounds good in theory, but in practice, far from compelling. The weight of my bags has increased by several kilos, given the bottles of water and juice I am carrying in addition to fruit — and I am suddenly experiencing a flashback to my trip through Northeast Asia at the end of last year that I don’t want to revisit. One week into my trip, my feet seem to wallowing in my newly purchased hiking shoes, not a good sign at all, as properly-fitting shoes are the most critical element of a successfully-equipped trip of this sort. My feet and alignment recuperated considerably from the mess they were in at the end of last year, but I don’t want to do anything to provoke a return to that state — and it seems that walking several kilometres in the heat with this weight on my back is going quickly take me back to this diminished state.

I pass by a small lake that could decorative, but also used as source for irrigation, swaths covered in lily pads, the perimeter ringed with deciduous trees and palms. At least alongside this lake there are benches on which I can set my pack down and take an occasional rest, enjoying the views of the surrounding area, however prosaic those views may be. In the distance, the staggered golden canopy of a temple emerges above the belt of green on the far side of the lake. I continue checking the car-hailing apps, and nothing. I couldn’t consider taking a motorcycle taxi, given the weight of my body and that of the backpacks. Of course, the only person who stops to offer assistance is that Thai institution, a ladyboy — I am not sure what exactly he is proposing, but a ride on a two-wheeled vehicle is definitely not on the books.

Trudging with my heavy packs further along in the direction of my hotel to the east of town, my energy wanes, but I am cognizant enough in the haze of the heat and my exhaustion to note that there is absolutely nothing memorable about this small town. I continually set down my bags, rest for a short period, wave wearily to the friendly locals and their children who wave to me bashfully, but am too exhausted to engage in much social interaction. Worst of all, when I finally set my things down in my new hotel, there won’t be much time left in the day, which is somewhat tragic.

The Rabbit Hotel is an extravagant departure from the look and feel of Nang Rong otherwise, a whitewashed period manor house that happens to be a budget hotel, set against a large parking area and themed garden that seems to be intended as backdrop for nuptials. Inside, the building is spotless, all mirrors and white, my room on the third floor as impeccably clean and serene as my room in Korat felt oppressive.

The large picture window and balcony door provide views over the flat rural landscape beyond town. There is a small desk and chair, perfectly functional AC, the same going for the electrical and wifi, and best of all, the king-sized mattress has a top, so that it will ensure a comfortable sleep. The bedroom floor is composed of pale marble tiling, the bathroom floor and walls outfitted in the same manner. My perception is that the place is a class act that goes far beyond anything you would normally expect in this budget category.

I would just love to lie on the comfortable bed and let the rest of the afternoon slide away. I am not feeling that great, and that may have to do with the fact I spent several hours in a jet of cold air on the bus, then walked for several kilometres with my heavy packs in the heat. Not good at all!. But I should try and explore some of the town, although that will soon reveal itself to be somewhat of a regrettable experience. The main road is a six-lane highway with no pedestrian crossing, which means weaving through traffic when the light turns red, then at the temple complex on the other side, meandering through the relatively run-down, disheveled structures, attempting to garner some sense of aesthetic appreciation of the place.

I sit down occasionally, still quite tired, and eventually, having circuited the temple grounds, come upon the obligatory pack of stray dogs that make their home at the Buddhist temples — or at least the temples that have less activity. Dusk may be a ways off, but that does stop the cascade of barking, a rotation of mutts lunging toward me in a show of aggression with bared teeth. Of course, there are a few monks visible in the distance who are entirely unperturbed by this. I found this kind of experience shocking in rural Myanmar — but in Thailand, one of the most developed countries in Southeast Asia that receives some 35 million tourists a year? I pick up a dilapidated shovel and brandish it at the dogs, occasionally chasing after them — they run like mad away from me, but the moment I turn to walk away, they are after me again.

I would like to explore more of the town, but now have reservations, considering that the residential streets seem fairly abandoned. Walking along, I hear dogs barking, but that behind fenced properties. Is theft such an issue here that would warrant so many people keeping aggressive dogs? To mitigate the risk of being attacked, I need to stay vigilant for sticks and stones to defend myself with. As much as people in western countries love their dogs, the dogs they are familiar with are typically trained, cared for, and behaviorally adapted to ownership.

The dogs here have no owners, are not taken care of, and while they technically may be given some food, the critical issue that affects their behavior is that no one cares about their existence, while domesticated dogs are bred to fit into the domestic context, not just float around us in a cloud of irrelevance. So these dogs revert to the behavior of wild animals, marauding predatory hunters that live in packs. During the day, while humans are out and about, they tend to be relatively benign, but once darkness sets in, the streets become a war zone.

Based on the few experiences I have made so far in Thailand on this front, I think the rest of the trip will be very challenging, especially in the smaller towns. Underlining this challenge is that the smaller towns have limited local transportation opportunities, which will mean increased risk of getting attacked while walking. I went through this in 2024 in Sri Lanka and ended up having to get a rabies vaccination, but it isn’t clear to me how long it’s effective, and then if you do get bitten again, you probably need to get a targeted booster. Apparently, more than a million people are bitten by dogs each year in Thailand, which is fairly shocking.

I gingerly walk along the quite streets to the main road, and see on the map that there are a few desirable eating establishments located along the main road to Buriram (the capital of the province we are located in), one of which turns out to be particularly compelling, and that is the OasisNangRong, its garden terrace overgrown with shrubbery and trees festooned with garlands of lamps. I prefer sitting inside where other large groups are seated next to me, as the interior has air conditioning. The menu is extensive, and without pictures, I am somewhat at loss as to what to order, although in Thailand that is never much of a challenge, given how good the standards are.

Compelling are the salads, the exotic flower-based concoctions bringing back memories of Myanmar: the banana flower salad is only mildly spicy, consisting of finely chopped banana flowers, stewed ground pork, shredded cabbage, chopped marinated chili peppers, finely chopped cucumber, shrimp, crushed peanuts, and amended with what seems to be honey — or perhaps some sort of palm syrup.

I also order a jungle curry, the same as a green coconut curry, but without the coconut, and consisting of chopped galangal, the caper-like crunchy pea eggplants, tempeh chunks, chopped round Thai eggplants, chopped lemon grass, chopped sweet potato, Thai basil, and boar meat, the latter akin to a leathery, low-quality beef. The soup is far too spicy and there is too much of it. The bill is a shock inasmuch as I am charged 50% more for the main dishes than I saw on the original menu, the waiter giving me the usual excuse that prices have gone up, which is of course ludicrous, and a popular scam you experience is so many less ethical places. A heated exchange ensues, and after several revisions to the bill, I end up paying what the bill should have been to begin with, but leave with yet another sense that this town would be better off skipping altogether.

One last challenge awaits me — finding a vehicle of any sort to return to my hotel. I don’t expect to find a car — but perhaps there are motorcycle taxis? And there is one in fact available using Grab, who accepts the ride — then proceeds to slowly drive away from my pickup point. I repeatedly send him messages to which he doesn’t respond. Eventually, he turns around, then very slowly makes his way toward my location. Ugh …

I am very happy in the end to be settling into my hotel room, turn on the AC, lie in bed and try to not think about too much, although my mind is racing. Given the transportation challenges of this town, how will I be able to travel to the nearby archaeological attractions such as the Phanom Rung Historical Park without having to hire a private taxi for the entire journey? I am overstuffed but also feeling unwell from the onset of bronchitis, and despite the comfortable bed and sea of quiet around me — a nice change from the constant trampling I experienced in Korat while lying on the rock-hard mattress — it takes hours before I manage to drift off into some semblance of sleep …