June 22. Earth Day.

It's Earth Day and we decide Charity Travel should do someting about it. So we go planting mangroves with the  Freeland foundation! Freeland is an organization that fights trafficking of animals and humans, and is active in national parks in Thailand. It is a great experience to travel to the school with the enormous name by taxi. We lose the way twice and get a bit stressful when we traverse the coastal wetlands on our way. When we finally get there, the instruction session is halfway: a teacher tells the story of the precious mud coast and the function of the mangroves we'll plant on it. Then he demonstrates on one sapling how to put it in the mud with our hand or feet.

We all go out to the actual mangrove field and the organizers have arranged for three wheelbarrows of saplings. We dip into the lukewarm water and wade to the places where we want to plant the trees. We hand each other the young trees and I put a few dozen of them in the mud using my toes to push the roots in. It's an interesting experience, even though it only takes 40 minutes and could be done more efficiently. But that is not the  point. We are served lunch, a delicious buffet of vegetalbles, tofu, shrimps and other seafood. After lunch, we move back to the city and make a modest donation to Freeland, which pleases them greatly to my delight. Their actions are normally sponsored by corporations and they don't seem to be used to private donors.

It is late at night and it has started raining heavily. We don't know where we are anymore.

Our desire not to be here wins over my conceived virtuous parsimony and we take a taxi to the bus station. Everything is so simple of you have cash in your pocket. I brood on that trivial observation as - no, not as, I hate as, as purports detachment and cynicism - while our taxi's windshield wipers struggle with the pouring downfall. At the station everything is straightforward, we buy tickets, have a quick noodle soup with fishballs, and board the bus that brings us to Hua Hin, where we will arrive in the middle of the night.

There are still some guesthouses open. A local, room-to-rent place is cheap enough and we don't really care, we just want to sleep.

June 19. Bangkok. The finger.

Our bus to Bangkok includes pick-up service and friendly caring drivers - and a bunch of complaining tourists. I can't stand a group of British partygirls and the attitude they display. Anyway, the bus is fast and after a few hours and stopovers we arrive at the Thai border, the crossing of which is free and easy. I would like to see the roundabout where they change the "rule of the road" and traffic coming from Cambodia, which drives right, changes to the left on Thai streets. Since we walk across the border and I remember my wish only later, I miss that magic roundabout. Ah, I can still dream about it. The highway in Thailand seems polished and takes us in a whim to the capital, near the infamous Khaosan road.
It is that road that is my first real impression of the land of smiles. Abundant merchandise on
They are selling fake ID-cards, I distinguish driver's licenses, German student cards,
The hawkers refuse me taking a picture
"Are you ashamed of your merchandise?" I ask
-"Go away!" one of the men shouts, "no photo"
"This is a public place as far as I know, and I take a photo if I like." I say, mounting my camera again. The men seem furious and I am afraid they might fall upon me to deprive me of my precious digital imagery device. A man shows me the finger. So I scurry off towards Yeon, who is waiting for me twenty meters down the road Welcome to Thailand.

We are looking for a guesthouse in this area, and on our quest walk into a small backstreet lodging that we expect to be sober and smartly priced. In the darkened lobby I see two older caucasian men browsing date-a-young-asian-woman websites, on our way to see a room a greepy looking middle-aged Westerner comes down the stairs and I signal Yeon "let's go". On our way out I catch the grey stare of yet another creep. It can be my impression, but the scenario fits to what everybody knows about Bangkok, its vivid prostitution. I want to beat child molesters up with a spikey baseball bat, I want to frame them and turn them over to the police, I want to cook them on a slow fire.
All that has to wait because we still have to find our guesthouse. We end up in a modest place, in a tiny room, and go down to the tourist tumble again to enjoy the internet.
close our eyes soon after checking in.