So This is Thailand

In just two weeks, I was able to place some pretty impressive super- latives under my belt: touching down on the mainland of the world's largest continent, traveling to my southernmost destination yet, as well as my deepest, and interacting with some of the worlds most dangerous animals (an appropriate continuation of my black widow encounter three weeks ago).

All of which were construed in Thailand, a country half grounded in reality, half flipping and swirling in a spicy green curry of intoxicating dreams. Food analogies are impressively apt for describing Thailand because hidden among coral beauties, colossal mountain, and concrete jungles lies a cuisine designed to both twitch the taste buds and send you reading some Trotsky on the toilet.

Although Chang Mai is best known for its cooking courses, the start of the rainy prevented me from venturing up into this province rich in history and tradition. Instead, I navigated due East, and stopped before reaching the Myanmar border in a historical little town called Kanchanaburi (by putting the stress on the third syllable, the name might in fact resemble less like an Aussie outpost and more like a place of Thai historical prestige).

While I will come back to Kancha- naburi in much greater depth with my sub- sequent posts, I would like to focus on the culinary factory that really stood out for us on this portion of the trip. On our final day there, we took a full day cooking course designed to help us appreciate the cooking expertise that goes into each and every dish. The morning began with a private tour of the local market, introducing us to native tropical fruits, snacks, spices, herbs, meat, and fish so fresh, they were still swimming around in a tub!

After the tour, we returned to the open air cooking school, run by Apple and Noi, set pictures- quely along a river, and we began learning how to cook in a true Thai style: when to balance the spicy with the sweet, when to serve curry or Pad Thai, and most of all learning that there is no reason in this world that Thais should ever get full of their own food.

As we sat down with our freshly cooked meals of lemon grass chicken, pork stir-fry, Tom Yum Kai Soup, Green Curry, and of course Pad Thai, we dug in with our forks and spoons (notice my inconspicuous hint that Thais don't use knives or chopsticks). We ate so much of the finest feast we had ever tasted, our bloated gastronomical organs, i.e. our stomachs, did not need replenishment for the next 24 hours.


But enough with food, as I am pining already for the pallet bliss of my yesterdays, and move onto the hallmark of any great country and that is transportation. In Taipei, taxis are both prevalent and expensive for Asian standards. Fortunately, the transportation situation tends to reside in the former and steers clear of the latter. Bangkok is like Taipei on Meth, with mad dashes in Tuk-Tuks (small, motorized tricycles) that come complimentary with the sweet perfume of motor exhaust. For this reason, and the Tuk-Tuks tend to be more expensive, I opted for the sky train and metered taxis. I am not necessarily convinced, however, that a metered taxi is the safer option all the time.

Whenever I entered a taxi, I handed them a card with my location written in Thai. They would hold it very close to their eyes, shake their head and extend their arms, squint their eyes and then apologize that they couldn't see it. After coming across multiple cab drivers with the same ocular disorder, I came to the desolate conclusion that I would have to ride with a blind cabbie. Perhaps this explains the reason behind the super cheap rates.

My taxi took me onto the highway only to get stuck in traffic. We can thank the engineering genius that decided to put a busy railroad at the end of the offramp for this congestion. But oh well, I still had plenty of time before I had to be at my destination. Then, while sitting there on the freeway, the cab stalled.

"Sorry," the man apologized, "out of gas!" Ok, so now I was with a blind taxi driver in the middle of the freeway in a cab without an gas. Fortunately, he was able to start the car and go a few meters before the cab stalled and he had to start it up again. The trains didn't help much either. We continued in our usual fashion, stop-and-go that is, until we were about 50 yards from the gas station. At this point, the taxi refused to start up again. So, as a test to his perseverance, the taxi driver got out of the car and pushed the cab the rest of the way, while I sat in the back seat. Fortunately, many Thai citizens were along the side cheering the poor man on. The ride cost only about U.S. $4.00.

Nothing, however, beats comfort on a coach bus. That's for sure.


Now by the end of a ride, that spicy papaya salad you inhaled earlier is ready to part ways with you. Which brings me to concluding with pleasantries and toiletries. Thai toilets on general tend to rank just a little lower on the evolutionary plumbing ladder than Taiwan, making bowl movements a true test of character. Waste disposal is, after all, one of the considerations of how "civilized" a country is.

First off, it took me about a week to figure out just how to flush the damn things. In most restrooms, you were presented with little more than a tiny pot adjacent to a medium sized water basin filled with water and a bowl. With no apparent flushing mechanism, I turned to the toilet section in my Lonely Planet guide book and followed their step-by-step instruction on how to use this quagmire-like hopper.

Step One: Use the water from the basin to wash your nether regions. This is a perfect reason as to why one ought to always bring their own T.P.

Step Two: Pour lots of water into the toilet so it automatically flushes.

Step Three: Try to repress any images from the last five minutes of your life. (Ok, so this one wasn't in Lonely Planet, but I think it is an extremely important final step.) The toilet experience is a fine example of why one ought to be armed with as much knowledge as possible.

For example, while staying in Nang Rong, the water stopped flowing early in the morning. I was waiting in the courtyard of my inn for a taxi to arrive with six other foreigners when a young polish woman came out with wet hair. We all looked at her hopefully and inquired if the water was back on. She informed us that no, it was not, and with a look of ingenuity that only McGyver can muster, she told us about the little basin next to the toilet with water in it. That's right, she used the toilet water to wash her hair, and while we were all horrified by this, none of us had the heard to tell her what just did.

This wraps up my anecdotal introduction of Thailand. These points are, however, by no means a "best of" summary of my time here in Thailand. They are only minor stories chosen to set the stage of a vastly different world. In the posts to come, I will take you to the 12th century Khmer Ruins set against the Cambodian border, to the death railway along the River Kwai, and to the sunburned bodies roasting in the Gulf of Thailand. And best of all, no boarding pass required.

From your narrator with a "Thai taste", Michael.