My second flight was a little different to the first with a few negative experiences and some similarities. A smaller and visibly older plane, more people (it was a sardine can of travellers with all levels of experience, identifiable most notably by attire, bangles, and tan, and a good number of older gentlemen no doubt out to see their girlfriends), a window seat that I was locked in for the duration for fear of having to ask two people to get up twice, no food or beer (out of choice). Those were the negatives. The similar experiences to the first leg were a lack of sleep, some mild entertainment on the TV (no Freddy), minor turbulance, and the dreaded fear of the plane crashing. Alanis Morrisette’s lyric about Mr. Play It Safe murmuring in my head, “and when the plane crashed down he thought, well isn’t this nice.”
The sun was rising as we made our way into a hazy Suvarnabhumi Airport, touching down with a little bump before snaking our way to the terminal. As we came to a stop, I watched everyone clamber from their seats and start fumbling for their hand luggage, switched on my phone and silently thanked Nomad e-sims when my internet connected. Another 4 hours were added to my clock, yet stolen from my body, and after failing to earn back the three I’d just gained in the UAE, I was still starved of sleep, once again facing the less than ideal situation of having to kill time before being able to check-in to my this time hostel.
Arrivals was more of a mess in Bangkok with a long walk from the gate to passport control, some confusing signage for us foreigners, and an approximate 40 minute wait to get through, for which you can’t blame Brexit! I had read about proof of onward travel from Thailand as you’re limited to a month on these shores as a tourist, but I didn’t have anything booked and was grateful when I was nodded through by the portly officer after he’d scanned my iris and collected many versions of my fingerprints. With the time taken to get through, I picked up my awaiting bag and proceeded to gather my thoughts on the loo. No taxi anxiety this time, a simple train from the aiport to the end of the line.
I took out some Thai Bhat, exchanged a few GBP in a very straightforward but probably mildly robbing machine, and then stared at the ticket machine, pressing it on occasion. Clearly looking dishevelled and confused, a face I can wear well at times, I was helped by a lady to gather my ticket (which is a small plastic disc the size of a pound coin), and then went through to proceed on my onward journey. The train ride, as with many heading towards a city centre at rush hour from the furthest point on the line, started pretty comfortably, but collected more and more passengers at every passing stop. By the time we reached Phayathai, I was becoming very conscious of the space I was taking up with my luggage, trying to prevent my larger bag from buckling into someone’s knees by gripping it tightly. As we were the last stop, I didn’t have to get off with the worry of smashing my bag into someone’s face, and waited my turn to exit patiently.
A quick search on Google Maps had me on my way towards the hostel. I was now able to add sweat to my dishevelled and shattered look as the temperature started to climb. The haze of pollution that was identifiable on landing hung thickly over Bangkok, so much so that the sun really struggled to pierce through the mugginess. That’s not to say it wasn’t sometimes unbearbly hot for someone that grew up in the UK. It was heading towards the mid-30’s and that was going to be the norm.
I plodded my way through the backsteets regretting having sat on a toilet for thought gathering as opposed to actually using it, and arrived after around 10 minutes. Amazingly, with the clock now at around 9am, I was grateful to be afforded another early check-in. Faced with the option of sleeping, I dropped what felt like a small country into the toilet and hopped into my inviting bed, overjoyed by the presence of 4 pillows – the pefect amount. 2 for the head, 1 for a cuddle, and 1 spare that can be called upon to sit between my legs as I scrunch up into the fetal position, but for now would sit behind me and act as protector.
I really didn’t want to sleep too long for fear of timezone adjustment failure yet again, but I couldn’t function properly without at least a couple of hours. Those couple turned into around 3, which proved enough for now. I showered, gathered some necessary items, mosquito spray and toilet paper being the keys for me, and headed out.
I figured I’d earnt myself a calming beer by now, so I loaded Maps again and set my destination as the infamous Khaosan Road. What should have been around a 40 minute walk quickly turned into an hour or so after opting against the probable death Google Maps was guiding me to. Crossing roads in India was pretty treacherous, but you would usually have a group to scuttle behind or between and would gain confidence over time. I haven’t been in India for 11 years so that confidence has diminished and the road I was asked to cross would have been like trying to complete the hardest level of Frogger.
As I approached the famed road, my nostrils and lungs hit capacity with the strong smell of weed, reigniting the memory of living in Elephant and Castle. I had read it is now legal in Thailand, and you’ll see certain spots saying if smoking weed there is prohibited or not, but weed isn’t and won’t ever be one of my vices. I did have an incident in Pushkar, which is a stunning town in India, where I had a bhang lassi, which is a yogurt based drink mixed with the paste from cannabis buds and leaves. Having read that you shouldn’t ingest weed if you’re not used to smoking it, I took on the risk and ordered my first, but instead of waiting for the likely effects to take action, my impatience demanded another, this time stronger version. As the second was going down, the first was kicking in and I left the cafe rather unsteady on my feet, taking my time to negotiate the steep staircase that would lead me back onto the bustling streets that surrounded the ghats. Coupled with impaired coordination came almost disabling paranoia as I started to think people were judging me at every turn. Even the elephant that squeezed down the narrow lane passed on a judgemental gaze and I started to convince myself that I was going to be lynched by the local launderette for not fulfilling my promise to take my clothes there for washing. Feeling like food would be my saviour, my impaired coordination shut down my ability to perform the precise movement of lifting a piece of pizza to my mouth. Then came the still increasing paranoia that everyone in the restaurant was watching me being unable to perform this basic task, which they probably were in all honesty. Fearing further judgement, I exited the restaurant looking like I was just learning to walk for the first time, concentrating as much as I could on how to put one foot in front of the other, before finally getting to my room after what seemed like days of pain but was probably no more than 2 hours. I put on a podcast before the impaired cognitive functions side-effect took shape. I’d be listening to what was said, but when I tried to conjure images, my mind was blank. I tried recalling what the judgemental elephant looked like. Nothing. Any elephant. Nothing. I really did think I was crossing to the other side. That’s partially the reason, especially whilst abroad, that I won’t be partaking in cannabis drinking, smoking, or eating.
Back to Bangkok after that little reminisce. Sitting down at what looked like a respectably themed bar, I ordered my beer and watched the conveyor of salespeople approach me. With what seemed like every mouthful, a new person would arrive tableside trying to sell any and everything. I was offered a number of fried insects, sunglasses, lighters, wooden frogs that made a quite impressive ribbit when stroked, a beard trimmer (no way), wristbands with anything I want written on them, the list goes on. I’d politely decline and then await the next person in line.
Khaosan Road didn’t quite align with my preferences when sober, or even a couple of drinks down. While I engaged in casual pool games with locals, playfully bantered with a lively group of older Russian ladies at the neighboring table, and enjoyed a few drinks to unwind, the atmosphere seemed reminiscent of any resort with its bustling main street featuring bars, tattoo parlors, and people peddling fleeting keepsakes. Sober, the tackiness, revelry, lights, and loud music were things to judge, but after a few more drinks, I was fully bought in.
As the night progressed, I moved from one bar to the next, tried to buy a friend tarantula (too expensive), had more than enough beer, bought two wristbands (“I hate people” and “I like spice”) and a pair of glasses that lit up, and laughed to myself when seeing there was a sink for vomiting in the toilets. It was pretty clear I was the easiest of targets at this point. I really don’t understand why these street sellers don’t just come out later at night when everyone is in the position where they think spending a fiver on novelty glasses is hilarious. I mean, I was thinking that and I was on my own. Oh, also, whilst fully adorning my drunken invincibility cloak, I decided that I would get a tattoo or two. Having watched The Hangover 2 to gather some inspiration before my trip, I thought this was ultimately a good idea. If I’d found a drug muel monkey, I would have potentially befriended him, but without that or a Mr. Chan, it was a either a tattoo or a ladyboy, and I’m not quite ready for the latter.
Boldly striding in, I requested a bird in flight on my neck, and the Houston Oilers logo on my arm. The consultation lasted no longer than 10 minutes, and I did have to keep a stern and confident face up as other tattoo artists came over to discuss my somewhat unusual request. I guess it would have been normal for someone covered in tattoos, but for someone with a couple, it probably isn’t natural to move straight to the neck. After confirmaton, I handed over my deposit and booked my appointment for the next day. Having not eaten, not even worm or a scorpion, and being in a country full of wonderful food containing all the flavours I adore, I decided to order a McDonald’s and wrap up day 1 with a tuk-tuk back to the hostel. A crazy ride through the streets in an illuminated, somewhat unsafe, vehicle was a suitable end to the day, even if I was overcharged after not agreeing a price prior to the journey.
So, into day 2. With my average number of hours slept reducing significantly over the past few days, I slept for approximately 11 hours, which was amazing. The problem was that I had arrived back at around 4am, so my day was mostly done, and my efforts to get onto Indochina time signficantly hampered. Oh, and I’d missed my tattoo appointment, which I wouldn’t be rearranging for now.
I made a mental plan of visiting a mall, eating local food, then maybe watching some football in the evening. I packed my toilet roll and headed for the BTS, not the boyband but their train network.
The malls in and around Siam are pretty expansive and cater to most tastes. From the authentic to the faux designer gear, you can get lost pretty quickly and will be hard pushed not to buy anything. For me it was a couple of t-shirts. One, a Nightmare on Elm Street offering showcasing my new mate Freddy, the other the poster image from Back to the Future 2. I figured, with mum’s voice ringing in my head, I didn’t really need anymore trainers, though I was surprised by the quality of the replicas on offer. I did consider buying some of those light trousers with crazy patterns on them, the one’s every traveller seems to wear, but I didn’t want any conversation about sizes or offers at this point, so I visited the impressively clean toilets, again laughed at another vomiting sink, and left. The only reason I really need these trousers is for visiting temples or shrines where you’re required to cover your offensive knees, though that wasn’t in my plan today and I could always just pull my baggy shorts down an inch or two if need arose.
Another BTS and into Sukhumvit where I’d have my food and watch the football. I wandered down an alleyway looking for a place to satisfy my hunger and my gosh, this looked like the Thailand I’d seen on Scam City (a great watch and on YouTube). Bright lights, tacky bars, deafening noise, but this time women approaching you trying to entice you into a massage and a number of old dude’s with young Thai girls. I made my way down the street avoiding the massage advances for now and found a pretty calm place with a TV and what looked like access to a hotel and toilet. That’s all I needed. I ordered a beer and some squid fried rice, which was rather salty, but lovely nonetheless, and engaged in people watching alongside the football. I have nothing against any of these guys out collecting a younger lady, but it does make you feel wildly uncomfortable when you see them trying to converse. If I do end up as one of these guys by the end of this trip, I’ll come back and edit these posts. I exited back through the throng, not thong, of advancing massueses and got into bed at a decent hour. Unfortunately, being in bed and sleeping are two different things, and as the clock ticked past 2am, I realised any quick adoption to my new timezone may be delayed.
Fully conscious I only had one more day in Bangkok before heading north, I’m disappointed to say that on this visit I didn’t really achieve much of anything. Again waking up late after not falling asleep until the sun was threatening its rise, I let the day run away with more incredible local food, a vist to a shrine, a brutal 5k in the 35 degree heat, and another ride or two on the BTS.
I apologise to those expecting greater tales of fearlessness leading to adverse outcomes, or maybe a little more culture, but my time in Bangkok on this occasion was more of a tentative exploration hampered by my sleep pattern. I didn’t achieve much, but made some good memories nonetheless. I will be back here after Laos, Vietnam, and Cambodia, so I will be sure to take in more of the sights others may recommend.