In some difficult moments in the last months, I had the feeling that this trip is never gonna end, but now the final station became conceivable. From Seam Reap in Cambodia I started to cycle back to Bangkok, the starting point of my trip, and to take the plane back to Germany from there.
The last week I followed an emergency lane through flat, unspectacular land. The last night in my tent I spent a daytrip from Bangkok. A last time oppressive heat and billions of mosquitos, a last time noodles in tomato sauce, assembling the camping stove and activating the alert of my bicycle.
On the morning of the sixth of march the time had come. I jumped on my bicycle the last time and rode, guided by my tablet, to the city centre of Bangkok on secondary roads. It took about six hours to cycle the sixty-four kilometres. I had taken the cheapest hotel of the city centre, ignoring its one- or two-star ranking. In fact, the place was quite shabby, and I made the mistake to lift up the sheet. Like this must look a mattress on which a body has been rotting for months. A little bit paranoid from the stories about bedbugs I organised a few more sheets and tried to seal the mattress as much as possible. I still had six days until my flight and I didn’t see a lot of Bangkok when I started my trip there. So I went to the insanely overcrowded kings-palace and a few other sights. Some nights I cycled through the city, searching for skyways and shooting long-time exposures.
It was a very nice last week, but I was also becoming impatient to come back home.
So finally, on the twelfth of march it got serious. I had sent the biggest part of my luggage by mail, only the necessaries and my faithful bike would join me on the plane and so I cycled the last thirty kilometres to the airport. There it was over, all at once, and abruptly a strong feeling of happiness came over me. A happiness that I had survived all of this without any physical harm. I have almost never thought about that earlier.