Part Two: Two Nights in Bangkok

Well, it’s a Tuesday night and it’s Cathay Pacific’s First Class Lounge revisited, only this time I’m preparing for a 5-hour flight to Jakarta, Indonesia. I can’t help but notice that in a short 7 weeks or so, I’ve become acclimated to flying to the point that I’m almost feeling cheated that this flight is only going to last 5 hours. Now, I temper all the excitement that surrounds this new found hobby as it’s primarily because it cuts short the exquisite business class service on this spectacular airline… it’s truly been one of the highlights of the trip thus far. You could ask me to board one of these chariots bound for just about anywhere and I’d jump at the chance. Alright, I do realize that I’m going to lose you if I don’t quit spewing compliments here and so let’s mosey on back to the point. This particular trip has been planned for about 5 days now and ever since I confirmed booking, people have gone out of their way warning me to keep my head on a well-greased swivel upon touch down in this city. Those that are more theatrical actually even tend to grimace at the mention of the destination. In fact, one co-worker that seems particularly partial to the understated value of the euphemism, branded it a real ‘salt of the earth’ type of place. Now, the last time I used that modifier in conversation it was meant to be endearing and I tossed it at my beloved “Dakota Roadhouse,” in downtown Manhattan, and so to be honest I’m not really sure what to make of it. As I type, I’m passing over Ho Chi Min City and so I will soon find out. Regardless, I take little stock in this to be honest …these types of warnings have come more often than I’d care to admit since I’ve been out here…

I have learned that there is nothing wrong about any of these places, it’s just that there is something different about these places.* In fact, I’m really embracing the discomfort that oozes for me in this area of the world. Now I’d love it if you were pinning me as a real ‘lunch-pail’ type in this regard, but let’s be honest…right now I’m sucking down a green mango salad in business class luxury…who the hell am I kidding? That being said please appreciate my honesty, preserve my dignity and kindly forget that I ever mentioned anything about a green mango salad. Bring it up, and I swear I’ll deny it…ok?

Be sure to check back in a couple of days for an opportunity at color commentary on this little excursion. But now, in the meantime, let’s seize this opportunity and return to the gritty back-end of my holiday in the Kingdom of Thailand.

And I do mean ‘Kingdom,’ you understand. Kingdom as in, King and Queen and Royal Family. It’s a first for me and the Thais really do rub it right in your grill. There are glowing pictures of an able King just about everywhere you turn…billboards, buildings, stores…everywhere I tell you. Before I had agreed to let Den go and do whatever it is that he does when not driving around Thailand on Saturday afternoons, I inquired of him about the Monarchy. For sake of fairness now, I normally make it a habit to avoid politics in casual conversations at all costs; however, seeing as how during the 6 hour trek Den and I had pretty much whittled the common ground down to discussing the recent weather and the flourishing produce industry in the province, I was willing to grab for just about anything. Read this with an open mind because there’s a pretty good chance that there’s a lot that was lost in translation, but apparently the King is very elderly, ill and there is great concern in the country regarding the viability of the succession plan. When discussing it, Den’s mood grew somber and I’m sorry I brought it up…he seemed truly concerned about it. This is a good man that has more than enough to worry about without this issue hanging over his head.

We parted ways shortly thereafter agreeing that we’d reconvene outside the hotel at 8 am to travel to a very famous weekend market called Chatu Chatck and then onto the airport so that I could catch my early afternoon flight back to HK. Keeping up with Den was tiring and so I sat down for a small respite at the hotel. After about an hour of rest, I descended to the lobby intent upon running my straw-man afternoon plan by the concierge. The plan included a trip to the Chao Phraya river that runs on the complete opposite side of the city. The river borders Bangkok to the south and is the tributary that leads directly into the Gulf of Siam, which in turn spills into the South China Sea. The concierge confirmed my suspicion that the quickest way for me to get there would be to board the Sky Train which is one of two criss-crossing train lines that blanket Bangkok. From there I was warned it would be about a 4-kilometer walk to the nearest desirable spot along the banks. That was fine by me as the only other option I had would have been to find a taxi and there was no way I was going to do that. The traffic was so horrific that there would have been a good chance I would never even have gotten there. I marvel at it…it’s truly amazing to see the affect increased automobile sales have had on this area of the world. The road infrastructure and traffic patterns are just plain not sufficient to be able to accommodate the number of cars and I have bared witness to some of the worst traffic jams one could ever hope to find in my short time here.

The train arrived about 10 minutes after I had reached the platform and when I boarded it was packed, but surprisingly clean and well air conditioned. I took it three stops south to an area called Sphan Taksin. Once off the train, I didn’t want to give off the impression that I was unsure of where I was going and so I decided not to consult a map. I thought I knew the proper direction in which to head…I was wrong. As soon as I hit the street…chaos…and I was officially lost...

I kept moving in my original direction only half convinced that I had chosen wisely. The area was packed with locals trying to sell all of their worldly possession on the side of the street. Now, I’ve seen poverty…but this was the first time I can recall ever having seen desperation. I soon learned that desperate Thais will not miss an opportunity to hound someone that doesn’t look like them because it is perceived that that person has money. And comparatively, they’re correct. I was nothing more than a walking wallet. You name it, I was propositioned to buy it. The solicitations ranged anywhere from a zip-lock bag filled with yellowish-brown fish stew to a trip on the back of a motorcycle to meet a 15-year girl that some scumbag had apparently sold into prostitution. I had my wallet placed into my front pocket, but still made sure to pat it down every 10 yards or so. Politeness went out the window and I resorted to stern rudeness with these people…it was my only hope to re-establish comfortable personal space.

It was a slow crawl through the crowd, but I was finally able to break free and as the area became more desolate so too did the journey become unobstructed. I found the river and much to my disappointment it was unimpressive and there were slim pickings in terms of restaurant establishments. This was a laborious trip and I was not going to let it end without finding somewhere to patronize. After about 10 minutes or so I stumbled upon a safe looking restaurant that had tables that butt right up to the river. I sat there collecting my thoughts and drinking ice cold Singha Beers (the local staple). It was there that I decided that I would stay closer to home base that night and that no matter how bad the traffic…a taxi would be choice for the return trip.

I arose early and met Den in the lobby of the hotel. I bid farewell to the staff which had really gone out of their way to make me feel at home, and then hopped into the van to head 40 minutes north to Chatu Chatck market. Once there, Den and I agreed that two hours would be a sufficient stroll and then we proceeded to set a designated pick up area outside one of the convenience stores on the side of the highway. As I entered the market I was greeted with sights, filth and smells that I have never witnessed before. It looked an awful lot like the markets in which you’d find a lost Marcus Brody. You could purchase anything at this place…clothes, shoes, furniture, trinkets, books, live animals (for pets or cuisine)…you name it. In addition, there were countless food stands that couldn’t possibly have passed even the loosest of health codes. They were butchering all kinds of dead animals and shaving off small pieces of meat and placing them on a metal cone shaped object for display. People would approach the cone, pick out a desirable looking piece of meat, ask for the attendant to cook it up, and then presumably rush to the local hospital in search of a remedy for the rickets they just contracted. Not for me…

I wandered for about an hour until I was instantly overcome with a sense of panic. It suddenly dawned on me that I had left my bag in Den’s car and in that bag was my passport. At that moment I considered myself the stupidest person in Thailand, but the trust that I had established with Den left me not questioning leaving it behind at the time. Now, I was overcome with questions like… What if he decided to make off with all of my stuff and leave me stranded in Thailand? Or, What if we couldn’t find each other in this over populated mess and I missed my flight? I tried to put it out of my mind but eventually I decided that I couldn’t fully enjoy the experience anymore so long as I was worried. I called Den and requested an early pick up. Sure enough, the man proved his reliability once again and he scooped me up and carried me onto the airport.

With my mind at ease, we reached the terminal got out of the car and shook hands. I vowed that if I ever make it back that I would request his services again. We parted ways and he rode off. I made it to the hour-long line at customs with just enough time to feel comfortable about my ability to catch my flight. With an hour on my hands I came to the conclusion that I will make it back to Thailand some day, but that I would have to do so with friends. I can see vividly why my sister fell in love with the place. It has many endearing qualities and a sense of adventure that you cannot ignore. Tackling it alone?... I came close, but if we’re being honest, I think it got the better of me.

*credit D. Bashaw