Bangkok - second impressions
Sept 16, 2009 10:17:08 GMT
Post by Deleted on Sept 16, 2009 10:17:08 GMT
Take 1
Khao San Road in Bangkok raises the hackles of the majority of travellers. It is the prime example of the worst that travel has to offer -- clueless backpackers grouping together to recreate a copy of what is already at home. And this place, my god, am I in Tel Aviv or what? I came in because it said free wifi, but it appears that I need a code that I don’t have. I have become invisible to the waitress, perhaps because I don’t speak Hebrew.
Israeli pop fills the air, and since the songs are the same everywhere in the world, I understand the words perfectly without speaking more than one word of Hebrew (that one being « shalom »). First there is a plaintive folk type song that clearly says:
One day the wall will come down
And I’ll leave this checkpoint
Where I’ve seen so much sorrow
We’ll all live in peace together
And you’ll be in my arms
My Palestinian girl…
The orientalist rock song that followed was just as easy to understand:
The nights of Tel Aviv are hot
And I’m ready to get down and dirty
I’ll make your belly dance
Forget your dreams of Paris and London
We don’t need a Eurotunnel
My train is coming in your station now.
Then I realized that I was going crazy and had better leave, but the falafel was really good.
Take 2
I had ignored the guy when he was holding an unwanted conversation across the way with reluctant dawn breakfasters. However, he became immediately more visible when he started to leave but was detained timidly by one of the waters, something about needing to pay for his beer. He seemed somewhat perplexed but went hunting through his numerous cargo pockets, as least those that were not hanging in shreds
Server boy #1 was reinforced by server boy #2 so the pockets were checked again. There was mumbling about having lost money, but the hopeful grin was met with two impassible Buddha faces still awaiting payment of 50 baht. A small wallet was produced at last. « You will take 2 dollars? » The amount was reluctantly accepted to get rid of him (2 dollars is more than 50 baht in any case).
But rather than leaving, he settled in a chair across from me. « Sorry to disturb you. Are you German? Dutch? » I replied to him in French, since if there’s one thing I can do, it is determine that nationality of just about anybody I come across in Asia, and this includes telling Koreans apart from Japanese or Taiwanese. Europeans are a snap, their level of dishevelment, the way they move, their facial expressions, the haunted looks of the lost.
« I can see that you don’t want me here, » he said. « What have I done to you? »
« Nothing at all. But the tranquility of the early morning hours has been disrupted. It doesn’t matter, because the tranquility must inevitably be disturbed sooner or later. »
He looked at me in wonderment and concern. The ensuing conversation was quite out of the ordinary, and I ultimately received his seal of approval, which, at the start of the morning seemed like it would be a worthless award, but which pleased me in the end.
Take 3
Yesterday I sent 8 postcards, which will make about 13 happy recipients over the next week or so. In the old days, I would have written to about 20 addresses, and four or five of them would have received authentic letters in envelopes giving my impressions of the day and the relevant anecdotes associated with my wanderings (see above).
I would have told them about going to Wat Pho again, and my shock that the entry ticket for foreigners has risen from 10 baht to 50 baht, just like that. But there was a lot of major renovation going on, and I hope that the entry fees have gone towards that. I was also there when a thousand school groups arrived, but I didn’t actually see them visiting any of the temples. They had all instantly dived into their lunchboxes, containing « rice & stuff ». One teacher seemed to be a favorite, because she had brought a bottle of nuoc mam and was distributing it liberally to the ravenous and generally obese children.
I left Wat Pho unsatisfied this time, because I had never before been obliged to deal with mobs. I did enjoy watching the Thai tour guides with their excellent command of French, Italian, German, etc., depending on the people willing to pay 200 baht for their services. I saw that new languages are needed, because the groups of Russians and Poles had their own guides.
In the evening, I decided that I should have the full Khao San experience, which I normally avoid, holing up in my hotel room with a book or the TV by 9 pm. But last night I ventured out into the techno apocalypse of « the Road » and allowed the ambience to wash over me. Since the majority of visitors at Khao San do not go to Patpong (as far as I know), Patpong is now recreated (sans sex shows, however) every night. Bar girls in mini dresses hold up giant signs in from of every establishment, all saying the same thing « VERY STRONG COCKTAILS 80 B. » These are also sold by the pitcher and sometimes by « giant pitcher ». I also saw devices placed on tables like antique petrol pumps filled with alcohol so that the customers could pump their own glasses full. Smoking is now forbidden indoors in Thailand (ha ha -- enforcement leaves a lot to be desired), but sheeshas filled the outdoor terraces, creating an appropriate end of the world look, the smoke mixing in the general haze caused by the pad thai pans and the skewered meats being grilled.
I knew it was time to go home.
Khao San Road in Bangkok raises the hackles of the majority of travellers. It is the prime example of the worst that travel has to offer -- clueless backpackers grouping together to recreate a copy of what is already at home. And this place, my god, am I in Tel Aviv or what? I came in because it said free wifi, but it appears that I need a code that I don’t have. I have become invisible to the waitress, perhaps because I don’t speak Hebrew.
Israeli pop fills the air, and since the songs are the same everywhere in the world, I understand the words perfectly without speaking more than one word of Hebrew (that one being « shalom »). First there is a plaintive folk type song that clearly says:
One day the wall will come down
And I’ll leave this checkpoint
Where I’ve seen so much sorrow
We’ll all live in peace together
And you’ll be in my arms
My Palestinian girl…
The orientalist rock song that followed was just as easy to understand:
The nights of Tel Aviv are hot
And I’m ready to get down and dirty
I’ll make your belly dance
Forget your dreams of Paris and London
We don’t need a Eurotunnel
My train is coming in your station now.
Then I realized that I was going crazy and had better leave, but the falafel was really good.
Take 2
I had ignored the guy when he was holding an unwanted conversation across the way with reluctant dawn breakfasters. However, he became immediately more visible when he started to leave but was detained timidly by one of the waters, something about needing to pay for his beer. He seemed somewhat perplexed but went hunting through his numerous cargo pockets, as least those that were not hanging in shreds
Server boy #1 was reinforced by server boy #2 so the pockets were checked again. There was mumbling about having lost money, but the hopeful grin was met with two impassible Buddha faces still awaiting payment of 50 baht. A small wallet was produced at last. « You will take 2 dollars? » The amount was reluctantly accepted to get rid of him (2 dollars is more than 50 baht in any case).
But rather than leaving, he settled in a chair across from me. « Sorry to disturb you. Are you German? Dutch? » I replied to him in French, since if there’s one thing I can do, it is determine that nationality of just about anybody I come across in Asia, and this includes telling Koreans apart from Japanese or Taiwanese. Europeans are a snap, their level of dishevelment, the way they move, their facial expressions, the haunted looks of the lost.
« I can see that you don’t want me here, » he said. « What have I done to you? »
« Nothing at all. But the tranquility of the early morning hours has been disrupted. It doesn’t matter, because the tranquility must inevitably be disturbed sooner or later. »
He looked at me in wonderment and concern. The ensuing conversation was quite out of the ordinary, and I ultimately received his seal of approval, which, at the start of the morning seemed like it would be a worthless award, but which pleased me in the end.
Take 3
Yesterday I sent 8 postcards, which will make about 13 happy recipients over the next week or so. In the old days, I would have written to about 20 addresses, and four or five of them would have received authentic letters in envelopes giving my impressions of the day and the relevant anecdotes associated with my wanderings (see above).
I would have told them about going to Wat Pho again, and my shock that the entry ticket for foreigners has risen from 10 baht to 50 baht, just like that. But there was a lot of major renovation going on, and I hope that the entry fees have gone towards that. I was also there when a thousand school groups arrived, but I didn’t actually see them visiting any of the temples. They had all instantly dived into their lunchboxes, containing « rice & stuff ». One teacher seemed to be a favorite, because she had brought a bottle of nuoc mam and was distributing it liberally to the ravenous and generally obese children.
I left Wat Pho unsatisfied this time, because I had never before been obliged to deal with mobs. I did enjoy watching the Thai tour guides with their excellent command of French, Italian, German, etc., depending on the people willing to pay 200 baht for their services. I saw that new languages are needed, because the groups of Russians and Poles had their own guides.
In the evening, I decided that I should have the full Khao San experience, which I normally avoid, holing up in my hotel room with a book or the TV by 9 pm. But last night I ventured out into the techno apocalypse of « the Road » and allowed the ambience to wash over me. Since the majority of visitors at Khao San do not go to Patpong (as far as I know), Patpong is now recreated (sans sex shows, however) every night. Bar girls in mini dresses hold up giant signs in from of every establishment, all saying the same thing « VERY STRONG COCKTAILS 80 B. » These are also sold by the pitcher and sometimes by « giant pitcher ». I also saw devices placed on tables like antique petrol pumps filled with alcohol so that the customers could pump their own glasses full. Smoking is now forbidden indoors in Thailand (ha ha -- enforcement leaves a lot to be desired), but sheeshas filled the outdoor terraces, creating an appropriate end of the world look, the smoke mixing in the general haze caused by the pad thai pans and the skewered meats being grilled.
I knew it was time to go home.
