Dear English-speaking readers, this page is an automatic Google translation from a post originally written in French. My apologies for the weird sentences and the funny mistakes that could have been generated during the process. If you can read French, click on the French flag below to access the original text:
Here I am back in Bangkok, and not without pleasure, I must say ... Ah! the return to civilization, it's good: no mosquitoes and long live fast internet connections, restaurants, streets where it lives and shops worthy of the name! ! !
That said, I am very frustrated in my surge of buying fever: I do not know if it was the dives that narcotized the neurons, but after three weeks under the coconut trees, I managed to forget the secret code of my blue card…
In short, I planted myself three times trying to type it, this damn code, to withdraw money, because I thought give me an afternoon of well-deserved shopping ... Las, the distributor me obviously ( at the third mistake) ate the precious card. Fortunately I was able to get it from the bank, which was open, with a benevolent attendant behind the counter: phew!
Except that now, the card, even with the code, it does not work anymore. It is automatically blocked by security ... I changed the few euros that I kept in case and I have enough to survive without problem until tomorrow. But no futile purchases for once. It's annoying!
I consoled myself while strolling. The streets of Bangkok are better than the TV. The show is permanent and free, between small street restaurants, street vendors, the strange and more or less unidentified food that goes under the nose, tourists lost, tuktuk drivers who rush on, the braders of T-shirts and second-hand clothes, copied CD dealers, bondage shops or golden Buddhas enthroned in plastic-wrapped show cases, monotonous chants of monks in the small temple that separates the street of my guesthouse from Khao San Road ...
Strange ... I do not feel so much the desire to take the plane back tomorrow!