SIMPLY (t)RAVELLING

Damnoen Saduak Floating Market

26 July 2011.

We have an early start from our hotel as we need to reach Damnoen Saduak before noon, and that is 110km away! Learning from yesterday’s mistake, we ditch the idea of going to Southern Bus terminal at all, and head to the Victory Monument instead.

 

Victory Monument in the morning, a view from the BTS station.

 

We are taking minivan to the market, and the starting point is right underneath the BTS. Eventually there is a van going out to Samut Songkhram to deliver some parcels when we reach the counter, of which we are quickly ushered in. Conveniently, we are the only two passengers that morning, and we get the whole van for ourselves.

 

A view along the way.

 

10 minutes in the van, and DH already pass out.

 

On the highway to Samut Songkhram.

 

Samut Songkhram town. The driver drops the parcel at the intended address and continues driving to the Damnoen Saduak, 16km away. Somewhere along the way, we bypass the junction to Amphawa floating market which is more authentic and less touristy than Damnoen. Unfortunately the opening time is not fitting with our schedule.

 

Passing the town, the van enters local road and cruise along the countryside. Another 13km to go, and the time shows 9.00am. Good timing.

 

The pier, 20 minutes later. There are actually many boat agents operating along the canal. We duly paid the driver BHT180 for the two of us, a slight costly compared to the bus, but more reliable, faster and comfortable. And less headache too.

 

An hour boat ride costs us BHT300 each, a bit pricey but at least we get the whole boat for ourselves.

 

The boat ride. DH is now fully awake, with our smiling navigator steering at the back.

 

The klong (canal). The starting point is a bit further from the market, bypassing houses on each sides of the canal. Note the color of the water; it is more like a big drain than a canal, with its reeking smell torturing us.

 

Houses on the side of the canal. Most of the residents here are farmers, who grow fruits and vegetables to be later sold at the market. The canal is somewhat their life-pulse; irrigation for the crops, means of transports and their day-to-day livelihood depends on it.

 

Another resident. I wonder how these folks survive the pungent, rubbish strewn water. I believe it is more than rubbish flushes in there.

 

We bypass a woman bathing by the canal, no offense but we find it a bit disgusting. Perhaps she’s just too used to it; the stinking and foully water do not even bother her.

 

Ribbons in all hues tied to a tree on the canal side, an offering to the spirit and ghost that haunt the area. I’m suddenly having goosebumps. Although a Buddhist country, animism is still visible, intertwined with religious ceremony and daily activities.

 

Seating languidly in the boat, enjoying the sight seeing and in the same time avoiding the splashing of the  stinking water.

 

Colorful bourganvilleas amidst the dirty green,  malodorous water. A sight that sooth the eyes.

 

At a junction, the boat driver turns left and we arrive at a wider canal. Floating market at last!

 

King Rama IV had the canal dug during his reign 145 years ago, to connect the Meklong River to the Tacheen River. The interconnecting rivers fertile the surrounding land, thus improving the agricultural economy of the area. Functioning as the trading focal point, the market grew as old as the canal itself.

 

Typical scene inside the market. Off weekend, and it is a bit calmer.

 

A long tail boat laden with fruits. I’m already salivating over the fleshy durian, the biggest that I’ve ever set eyes to. Selling at BHT250 per plate, we find the price is a bit ludicrous and the seller refuses the bargain. Have to settle with pomelo and mango instead

 

Fruits are not the only things that could be found here. A tourist spot is not complete without the trinkets and souvenirs.

 

Trading modus operandi: The traders will call and pull the tourist boat to its booth with long sticks. If not interested, better avoid eye contact or politely say no. It is very difficult to get away once you are hooked. Sounds familiar?

 

We bump into a lady selling food. Is that sate? “Sorry we are muslims and we can’t eat that” says I smilingly, and she smiles back, understandingly.

 

One hour passed and the boatman drops us off at the market pier for us to look around. He then speeds off back to the starting point to collect other visitors. Note the bulky engine; it was actually made for cars!

 

We sit on a bench at the canal bank, finishing our pomelo and mango and enjoy the picturesque market.

 

A lady supply fresh banana to another vendor making fritters. Most of the traders here are women.

 

Birds of paradise sitting in front of the boat. For luck and safe journey, I guess.

 

Another fruit vendors.

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Neat arrangement of head covers.

 

It is almost afternoon, and we decide to search for the exit. An old man sitting guard with an empty gaze; I wonder what’s in his mind.

 

Exit the place, and we are lead to another tourist trap.

 

One last glimpse of the floating market before we say goodbye.

 

Our ride to the nearby town, where we catch our bus back to Bangkok.

 

The small town of Damnone Saduak, waiting for bus no. 78 to Bangkok. A hot day it is; thank god we are in time to catch our ride.

 

Few minutes later, inside the bus. Our lady conductor is busy texting her friend. The red two-piece and overdone make up makes us think that we are on board of AirAsia.

 

Southern bus terminal at last, 2 hours later. We are exhausted over the long and bumpy ride, hungry and smell of diesel. Taking the minivan in the morning is a good idea, indeed.