The Venice of the East

Thus is Bangkok. And while the boats have since evolved into cars that drive "on the wrong side of the road", and most of the canals have been filled in, she hasn't lost her sense of international flair. I arrived into Bangkok late on Sunday night. Fortunately, I was met by my good college buddy, Pote, who also put me up for the night. Aside for letting me sleep at his beautiful home, he also gave me a free ride into town, where I caught the skytrain to the Northern Bus Terminal.

I spent a total of three days out of Bangkok before I made a return. Coming from a town on the Eastern edge of Thailand, I arrived quite late and still had no accommodation set up. Fortunately, I was given a suggestion by a co-worker to go to a certain guest house. Unfortunately, this guest house was situated very close to the red light district (even though the place itself was legitimate). And even more unfortunately, the guest house was full, so I still had to go searching in the interesting part of town. The skin scene (when there is an elephant in the room, it is best to introduce it) is luckily confined to a small part of this district that I did not frequent. However, evidence of the post Vietnam War R&R era is made clear by the hundreds of "friendly" massage parlors with throngs of young masseuses inviting you in, the plentiful number of prostitutes forced to hangout on street sides, and the abundant number of fat, old white men walking around with twenty year old Thai women. Often times, these young women come from desperate situations, and these old men come from loveless backgrounds, resulting in a match made far from heaven. My friend commented to me about this by saying, "I have lived in Bangkok for almost twenty-five years and I am still not used to it."

But if you can stomach the shawdowy undergoing of the section, there are some truly unforgettable international eateries, since the area has a heavy ex-pat base. I was attracted to a restaurant that provides a good ease into Thai food called "Cabbages and Condoms". The restaurant is of high quality and is run by the Population and Community Development Association adjacent to the restaurant. It's all about location, location, location! But in this case, it was also about the chicken served in pandans leaves which are incomparable to any other dish on the island. And to entertain you while you eat, you can check out their display of mannequins dressed in condoms and birth control pills, peruse their listing of safe sex positions, or take you chance on the wheel of STDs. (My first spin gave me HIV and the second gave me vaginal something-or-other.) And in lieu of the traditional after dinner mint, you are given a condom. You can choose between democratic size or republican size, whatever that means.


After a restful night sleep, I woke up and had breakfast. After planning my day, I went to a small museum called the Kamthieng house, which depicts traditional Thai life of the Lana people in the northern reaches of the country. This matrilineal house was built over 150 years ago in 1848 as a combining force between the elements of nature and spirits as a way to honor the ancestors.



Feeling satisfied with my historical experience, I decided it was time to get my hands on Bangkok, or rather let Bangkok get its hands on me, with a traditional Thai massage. I decided on the Marble House, a legitimate, well respected massage parlor not too far from my hotel. I chose a two hour combination of a Thai traditional and oil massage. After a brief shower, I changed into Thai robes equivalent to night time pajamas and sat down in my private massage room. An intimidating, small, and powerful young woman came in and started the massaging process. The experience was rejuvenation and relaxing, until she got down to business.


The woman climbed on top of me and started twisting my arms and legs in impossible directions. As my right arm was pressed in a 360 degree pretzel behind my head, I could still feel the pain from the injury I received at Silver Stream Cave a few weeks earlier. Fortunately, the pain didn't last long, and I was once again in a euphoric sense of rest. When the Thai massage ended, she told me to take off the shirt so she could do the oil. I happily obliged. She then told me to take off my pants as well. I was not as happy, nor was I obliging. I thanked her very much but decided I only wanted the Thai massage. I paid her and moved onto downtown.


I took the sky train to the river, where I took a boat tour along the banks of Bangkok. I got off at Wat Po, a labyrinth serving as home to the world's largest reclining Buddha. Any Siddhartha pictured lying down represents his passing into Nirvana, or death. This massive statue, measuring at 46 meters long and 15 meters high, impresses thousands of foreigners, it seems, each day.


After wandering around Wat Po for sometime, I made my way away from the tourist district and took an overpriced Tuk-Tuk ride to Soi Ban Batt. Down a small street and then down another small street, one will find the delightful Soi Ban Batt away from any foreigners and the home of traditional Monks Bowl crafters. In times before, monks would wanter from home to home in search of morning breakfast. People would then give these monks food, such as rice, filling up both the bowl and their tummies. Today, the majority of monks bowls are produced en masse on an industrial scale, and are used, from what I can tell, as collections of money. But here on Soin Ban Batt, the monks bowls are hand crafted and take about a week's time to produce just one. In my mind, there is no finer souvenir to take back with you from Bangkok.


After my visit to the Monks Bowl Village, I went over to the Grand Palace where I was denied admission on account of my shorts. While a robing room was provided, I opted to avoid this sight and wait for another college friend, and their buddy, who were just so happening to be traveling over from Hawaii at the same time as me. At four o'clock, we met uo and made a voyage over to the Grand Hyatt to meet Pote for a buffet of extraordinary international proportions. I mean there were meats of the highest caliber, cheese trays overflowing, fresh seafood, and cuisines ranging from Asia, Europe, Africa, and the Americas. I haven't had brie with caper berries in well over a year! And being such an exemplary and gracious host, Pote paid for the entire meal. In appreciation, I took him out to Cabbages and Condoms form y final night so he could try the chicken.


While dinner may have been a show-stopper, it wasn't the final course of the evening. After dessert, we made our way to Ratchadamoen Stadium for some Muay Thai, or rather, traditional Thai Kickboxing. When we arrived at the match, we were greeted by a massive, but orderly, protest. It was a testament to their determination that they were standing out there in the rain, but against what they were protesting, once could really only imagine. (If I were to put forward a guess, I would have to say they were calling for more stringent eye examinations for the can drivers.) This provided a minor obstacle because the entrance to the boxing arena was caged off. After circling the building once, we went up to the cage and signaled that we wanted in. The solution was simple: they opened the gate and we walked through. We bought our tickets (absurdly inflated for foreigners) and took our seats just in time to see the main fight.


The start of the fight stands on ceremony. A decorated general walks in with a large picture of the king. The boxers then enter and bow once to the North, then to the East, then the South, then West. Finally, they bow in the direction of their birthplace before the graceful, yet violent spectacle begins.


Thai boxing enjoys a following rivaling that of soccer in Europe. During the last summer Olympics, a Thai boxer took home the gold, and honor of high distinguishing character as he was the only person from Thailand to win the gold that year. He was given a parade with dozens of elephants, a multi-million baht home, a promotion, and monetary compensation enough to last him quite a while. And by judging the crowd's behavior, I could tell this truly was a widely popular and hugely important national sport.


The spectators are divided into three sections. At the back, behind a restraining cage, sits a lively bunch, screaming, standing, pacing, shouting and watching the fight (and their bets) quite closely. The second class, slightly more civilized, gets a view sans bars, but they still share that same sentiment of enthusiasm. Because this is where we were located, we got a good view of this bunch, complete with their betting runners throwing up fingers to the crowd behind, reminiscent of a Thai Stock Exchange. The ringside crowd is a boring of well-to-do blue bloods that barely deserve a mention. But the best seat in the house is right inside the ring, but to be there, you have to be a 110 pound muscular Thai man ready to fight another impressively skinny (but counter intuitively dangerous) Thai kick boxer!

The fight was a majestic dance of punching and kicking. Although violent, watching these two men fight was as much a dramatic undertaking as it was a battle of strength, focus, and stamina. The kicks were forceful and their strikes as quick as the punch of thunder. There really is little one can say to describe the grace and prowess these boxers posses night upon night. Eventually, as the fight reached a climax, and the beat of the tiny, four piece traditional orchestra reached an intensified pace, the winner reigned victorious over his battleground.


With the fight at a close, and the crowd dispersing, we hailed a blind cab to another red-light district for the shopping instead of the go-go shows (which are, essentially, too graphic for me to even mention here). The night markets were full of cheap copies of designer brand products, thus explaining how I came into possession of a 400 baht pair of Armani sunglasses which I like to call my Asian bling.

And since the night was growing old, my feet were tired and my friends were shot from jet lag, the had to come to a close. And following in that fashion, so too must this extensive post. Until next time, your go-go-a-no-no too cool for Asian society sporter of Asian bling, Michael.