Thailand, July 2006. Chumphon food market, late afternoon.

Chumphon Noodle Soup

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, the original and correct version can be found here:

  Malaysia: Peninsula and Borneo - July 2006

Here I am, landed at Chumphon (pronounce "cheumpone") by the Lomprayah, the catamaran boat that links with the Thai peninsula. Then, shuttle-livestock with stacking of luggage and passengers on the rear platform to the center, where I was placed with the others in front of an internet cafe a few minutes walk from the station.

They keep the big bags, it's convenient. As I have several hours to kill before the train departs, I went for a ride.

Chumphon's food market, late afternoon.

Change of mood, after the beaches of Koh Tao. Chumphon is a big provincial town, without much charm in itself. But fortunately there is the inevitable "food market" close to the station and my internet café, and I hasten to go there.

As always, a whole street filled with booths, carrioles, and small restaurants with their tiny plastic chairs. The good thing about Thailand is that you always find everything to eat, and at any time. People go by motorbike and stop to buy skewers, fruit, another small sandwiches or grilled squid ...

Noticing a noodle soup restaurant, full of customers, I tell myself that it's a good sign and that the soup must be good ... Another good sign: the guy who does the drumming do not understand a word of English. Besides, I'm the only one "Farang" (Foreign).

Sitting on my little plastic chair, I feel myself being watched. Stealthy look and smiles in the corner from other customers, only Thais.

Especially when I take out my camera worthy tourist that I am. The two girls of the restaurant, curious, came to examine me more closely.

They pose for my goal. And the excuse is that the mom who serves me my bowl of soup requires them to say thank you then ... "Kop kun kaaah! Kop kun kaaah! " And the two little ones to flee and giggle after admiring themselves on the digital screen.

The noodle soup was famous and copiously filled my stomach for the modest sum of 30 baths (not even a euro), before this long journey by train (departure 21:15, arrival 10:30).

I will still stroll a little before reaching the station ... See you in Malaysia!

  Malaysia: Peninsula and Borneo - July 2006

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