Now, before anyone has a go at me for being size-ist, or for taking a swipe at the “gravitationally gifted”, this is just a basic generalisation I have arrived at and has only been tested within the confines of South-East Asia and even then, specifically Vietnam and Thailand. Besides, it makes for a catchy headline…

Having extracted my phalange and sorted out all the various odd-jobs I needed to resolve whilst in the relative civilisation of Bangkok, I woke early to make arrangements to head down to Lantau to catch up with some travel mates who had left a day or two prior.

But, first things first – my pack had slowly been gaining weight (whereas I was losing it, or redistributing it around my body), and had gotten to a point where the luggage handlers were visibly straining to move it. Plus the threads on the handle were starting to make noises when I picked it up, so either way – the thing was overloaded. So, I emptied my pack out in the relatively open space afforded me in my overpriced and underinsulated room in “The Marley Mansion” (“Top Guesthouse”, off Khao San Rd. I dubbed it “Marley Mansion” because my first night there I heard nothing but Bob Marley tracks from a club out the back until 1AM). I unpacked almost everything and set about rationalising what I was carrying, trying to identify items which could be sent home, and others which were better being discarded altogether. All my Lonely Planet guidebooks (original and “Vietnamese specials”) were amongst the first to go as I was no longer in need of a guide for China or Vietnam, other items like the spare laptop battery, the imitation North Face rainjacket and a few others quickly followed. After a half an hour of being a bit brutal and then repacking my now, considerably less strained pack, I had filled a shopping bag full of stuff to send home. I had also managed to half-fill the rubbish bin in the room. Mental Note: Do this more often.

Now the rest of the tasks for the day were coming together in my mind – ship the bag of stuff home, book my bus ticket to Lantau, duck over to IT City and try and source a USB charger for my mobile phone (meaning I could then also discard the oversized Hong Kong charger I have been carrying) and try and find an adaptor which would plug into the wall and had a USB output (for charging the mobile, and the iPod).

So, I wandered up Suzie Street as I had seen a DHL Office there and asked them for the rates to send the collection of odds and ends – the Backpacker Ballast – home. They weighted it up and it came in at almost 6 kilograms! 6 KILOS! That’s 3 x 2L bottles of milk I had been carrying around in my pack. Wish I had done this earlier! They then quoted me a shipping price of about 3500 baht (AU$140) which was a bit steep, but if it guaranteed delivery, then it might be worth it. Finally the DHL guy pointed out that there was now a AU$175 surcharge for any “personal effects” sent to Australia for Customs clearance. What the hell? I had to pay taxes on a good portion of these “effects” when I bought them in Australia, let alone be made to pay another tax for sending them home. Stuff that!! Off to the Post Office to see what other options are available.

Post Office was just around the corner, so I enquired there and was told that there was no surcharge for shipping goods to Australia – just standard parcel postage. So the helpful staff there boxed the gear up, weighed it, and had it over the counter and ready to go for only 1350 baht (AU$54). So much easier! I did notice, though, that there were a number of posters in the office stating that the shipment of “images of Buddha” was expressly forbidden. Was just a bit interesting – I wonder why that is? And I wonder what they consider an image? Does a postcard depicting a Buddha statue count? If so, what’s the point of making those postcards?

Anyway, step one out of the way. Next, the Bus Ticket. Go back to the travel agent in the Siem Oriental Hotel – same place the others used and they got down there in one piece. Same clerk, same ticket, same price – all is good. Clerk mentions something about there being no boat as there are not enough people. Not sure what that means – whether I now have to arrange my own transport to the island, or what? Will figure it when I get there. Step two done.

Now – the IT City mission. Luckily it was a track which I had already beaten with the Americans I had been travelling with. Down to the end of Khao San Rd, turn left, to the Main Road, wait for Bus 60. Waiting… Sweating… Waiting… More sweating… Still waiting… Sweat now running down my back and into the crack of my arse – uncomfortable… Even more waiting… Now taking refuge from the sun behind a lamppost… Irony… Eventually the bus arrives, and stops 2 lanes out into the street. Everyone hustles through the semi-stopped cars and tuk-tuks and clamber aboard. My western courtesies almost cost me, as being the last one to jump on I am half-skipping beside the now moving bus before pulling myself up and into the stairwell. Young female conductor moves from one end of the bus to the other, checking and dispensing tickets, deftly wielding the long tubular ticket machine/change canister as she uses it to straighten, check and fold 20 baht bills (which she then stores fanned  between her fingers) and to tear off the tickets and then endorse them by putting two tears through each ticket section. “Clap clap rip clap rip clap clap”

Slowly crawling through the traffic – could probably walk faster, but it’s a long walk, and the bus is air conditioned (well worth the 4 baht surcharge on top of the 7 baht fare for a hard-seater). Stop at another station and more people flow on, taking up the rest of the seats. A young girl is left standing, looking like the out kid in a game of musical chairs. Conscience kicks in again and I give her my seat. I seek out a new seat at the front of the bus. Notice a small box screwed to the roof of the cabin, above the driver. Says “BUS SOUND”… Always wondered where the sound of a bus came from – now I know.

Eventually arrive at the destination. Again, bus stops mid-street and people flow down the break-neck stairwell onto the street and through the traffic. Then onto the footpath and it is not much better, but now you are dealing with ignorant tourists who stop in the middle of the narrow pathway between the buildings and the street stalls. The locals just move through it all like water through a pipe – fluid, smooth, no hesitation, all instinctive.

Get into the IT City store and bust bask in the ice-cold air-conditioning for a moment, feeling the sweat patches on my shirt instantly crystallise. Head into the first large store I can find and seek out the mobile phone charger. Multiple connections for different phone types, and about the size of a packet of gum. Excellent. 150 baht (AU$6) – not a bad price, could have gotten it for less from a market vendor, but it’ll do. Memorise where it is. Upstairs to a gadget shop. Dodge the sea of touts trying to sell DVDs, CDs, software, adult flicks. Adult flicks? Momentary double-take. Nah, why bother – the internet is always there and it’s free, for the most part. Find gadget shop, find adaptor. Short bargaining, better price and a laugh from the vendor. Back down to IT City, get charger, unwrap everything and transfer to small plastic bag (why do they waste so much time and resources with packaging?) Out the door and into the heat of Bangkok once again.

Look for bus, but can’t be bothered. Jump a cab. Driver speaks good English, and picks up my accent in no time – catches that I am Aussie and from Sydney. Surprising. Spend the bus journey hearing about how he worked for 20 years in hotels, as a manager, and how he met so many great friends in travellers who would sometimes stay for 2 months in the one place. Clues me in that, for Thai people, minor drug offences are nowhere near as major as the Schappelle Corby drama – possession of a personal use amount can normally be forgotten with a bit of a currency distraction for the officer involved. Not that I am planning on testing that, but good information to know. And I am sure that, as will all things in S.E.A. there is a local price and a tourist price.

Back onto Khao San Road with a couple of hours to burn. Grab some lunch, even though I am not hungry – having a bit of a tense stomach as I eat a hamburger on Sunset Street. Wonder why that is? Again, thinking about it won’t fix it.

Decide to go to the Internet Cafe to check up on the world, as I get to Susie Walking Street, an Indian-looking guy engages me in conversation. Talking to me about chakras and energy, sounds interesting. Says he is a Fortune Teller – translation: trickster. Well, I have time to spare, so we’ll see what he has. He leads me into a small courtyard and asks me to remove my shoes and sit in a cross-legged position. It’s been twenty years since I could do that, and my feet, bones and muscles all protest. He waffles on about good luck and shows me pictures of Hindu swarmis which he either bought at an Indian novelty store or downloaded. Goes on to say that he can tell me my Mum’s name, how many brothers and sisters I have, my date of birth and my ex’s name. Should be an interesting trick. He tells me that if he does that I have to agree to pay his fee. I ask him what his fee is. He writes on a piece of paper a scale from Poor through Medium to Rich. Poor, by his reckoning, should pay him 5100 baht (AU$204) through to Rich at about 22000 baht (AU$880). Nope. Tell him that I am travelling and have very little money to spare. Turning a con on the con artist a little. Tell him I will give him 500 baht (AU$20). He is a bit upset and wants more, but I stand firm. As he has already invested the time in me, and he would need to cultivate another person, he agrees. He grabs and pencil and paper and starts writing so I can’t see what he is doing. He asks me a pile of useless questions like what I ate last Sunday, where I last saw my Mum and my brothers, etc. whilst making out that he is calculating the answers. (1). Next he crumples the paper up into a ball and has me place it against my forehead and then my chest and repeat some incantations with him. He then has me place the paper ball in my chest pocket.

After that he has me write down the answers to the questions. Once that is done, he takes another piece of paper and writes on it so I cannot see. I catch him looking at the answer paper as he does so and I realise that is part of the trick. He shows me a piece of paper with the word “GOD” written on it, with three lines under the O. He says that the three lines are one for me, one for him and one for God. In reality I figure that he is trying to get me to focus on a feature of the paper which is easy to copy and remember. Next he takes the paper back (2) and again crumples it into a ball. More incantations, more holding to heart. Has me place the paper ball in the same pocket (3). Talks some more about energy and connections and makes himself out to have a direct line to The Old Man. Has me pull the paper out of my pocket and unwrap one of them. There are the answers – all correct, for the most part, although he has the end of my Mum’s name a bit wrong. Then has me unwrap the second ball, and there is “GOD” written as before. He asks whether I believe him, I tell him he had the answers right. So he asks for him fee and I give it to him. He asks whether I have given him the money with a happy heart, I say “Yes, but with a questioning and suspicious mind.” He doesn’t get it. Next he gives me a “rock” (really a chunk of plastic) which I must keep secret and not show to anyone. He then tells me to meditate every morning for 5 minutes saying “Um Nemeh Shivay”.

Finally he says he has given me a gift and asks for a gift in return. I give him a few words of wisdom, as he has given me, but he suggests something more financial or physical – like an old mobile phone, or camera, or something. I tell him I have none to give. He is a bit persistent, but not threatening. I start putting on my boots and he says “You see, I have no watch. How about you give me yours?” I say quite sternly “No. I cannot.” He is now quite disappointed. “Do you think this is easy, my friend?” he asks. I just do not reply, as I am deconstructing the trick in my mind and say only “Thank you” as I leave.

Here’s how the trick worked. (1) The first piece of paper he gave me had the “GOD” written on it – it was essentially a placeholder for the paper where his “divining” powers would be proven. (2) The paper he crumples did not have “GOD” on it, but rather the answers from the paper I had just filled out and saw him reading as he wrote. (3) In the confusion of my pocket, I could not track which was the first and second balls I placed in there, so that’s where the swap occurred.

So, did I get ripped off? Maybe. But for AU$20 I now know a pretty neat party trick. Might even make my money back!