Today was my last day in Cambodia. I walked around a little, had lunch, then packed up my belongings and said goodbye to the wonderful staff at my hostel, making sure to put a little lagniappe in the tip jar. I got a Grab in an actual car to go to the airport. The airport was incredibly modern and beautiful. I walked around the bookstore there to get new items for my reading list. Then I heard a familiar song.
Across the way, in what was a Hard Rock type store, the music video Don’t Cry was playing by my favorite rock band, Guns N’ Roses. I played this song most nights when I was driving home from Ubering and even learned to play the acoustic version on my guitar. I took it as a suggestion from Axl Rose about leaving Cambodia as well as a great reminder of the pervasiveness of American culture
After sitting for a bit, they called for us to board. It was just an up-and-down flight, lasting less than an hour. Although, Thailand seemed like a world away. I got another Grab and the entire city of Bangkok opened before me. Modern skyscrapers pierced the sky as I traveled along the highway. Bangkok was clean, it was huge, and it was incredibly modern.
I arrived at the address of my accommodations, but neither I nor my driver could find it. Luckily, I had the number of the host and the driver was nice enough to let me use his phone to call. The owner described the buildings and told me the entry code. I found it, thanked the driver, then let myself into a completely empty hostel. The owner did not even live on-site but had Big Brother-esque video cameras watching everything. In my rush to get to my pod, I forgot to take off my shoes at the entrance, a rather large faux pas in this part of the world. I went up the flight of stairs to a room of eight empty pod beds, found mine, locked up my stuff, then headed out to get some dinner.
The modernity of Thailand versus Cambodia was most stark in their different exchange rates. Luckily, there were 7-11s and Family Marts nearby for cheap food. I was very happy to be using my credit cards again. I then went back to my hostel’s lounge area to enjoy my food.
The next day I woke up and decided to walk around Bangkok and see what happened. I knew I wanted to see some temples, so I headed out following my hostel-supplied map. As I was walking on the street, a charming older lady named Hoi started talking to me. She asked me where I was going and I said towards the river. She said she was heading that way and that I should follow her. Disregarding my instincts, I did. We started chatting, I telling her about where I was from, and she telling me about her daughter and how Hoi had seen America in the movies. What I did not know was that she was leading me to take a ferry tour around the river that bisects Bangkok. She took me to the ticket counter and started talking to the guy and he gave me a price. As it was something I did not want to do, so I purposely lowballed the counteroffer. He didnʼt take it, so I excused myself after thanking them both and continued walking.
Back on the street, another guy started a conversation with me and told me that I should go to a few temples that were free to the public for a holiday. He circled some on a map and waved down a tuk-tuk for me. He talked to the driver and told me that he negotiated 50 Baht (about $1.50) for the driver to take me around. I was pleased and thanked the gentleman. The driver took me to a hidden temple first.
Upon entering the temple, there was a rather large beautiful golden Buddha apparently brought from Sri Lanka. Another guest of the temple asked me what I was doing there as he had never seen a tourist come to the temple. I explained to him I was taking a private tour. It felt good to be seeing things that not every tourist did.
When I got back into my tuk-tuk, I figured out immediately why the tour had been so cheap. The driver said that because there were holidays right now, he would get a special coupon and free gas if he took Western tourists to a suit factory store. Wanting to help out a working man, I said OK. As we were riding, he said I did not have to buy anything, but I should stay and look around the store for about 10 to 15 minutes so he can get his gas. He dropped me off. I walked around the store a little, feigning interest in all the suits, ties, and belts. I was approached and I got a hard sell from an Indian gentleman running the store that sat me down and pulled out his binder of suit designs. When I would not budge (and stalling for time) he furiously dismissed me and told me my driver was outback. I did not blame the store owner, but it still kind of hurt.
The driver then asked if he could take me to another store for the same deal. I said sure. I did the same pantomime, but the next guy dismissed me faster. The driver said that I was too quick, so he wanted to take me to a jewelry and souvenir store and asked me to really take my time. I still had three temples to visit at his discounted rate, so I said OK. I really took my time at this store.
When I got back into the tuk-tuk, he added one more place to go before he took me to the Wat Benchamabophit, the first of three more promised temples. It was at this next store where I was attended to by an older lady that reminded me of my dearly departed grandmother. She was smartly dressed and very attentive. It was a giant jewelry store and souvenir shop. I got a lovely little elephant necklace for my mother and a reclining Buddha statue. The driver then took me to the next Wat Benchamabophit and dropped me off. I asked where he would be waiting and he said right in that spot. So I headed in and walked around.
Wat Benchamabophit was built in 1899 by the order of the new king of Thailand as he just built his palace close by. It was constructed with Italian marble, thus giving it the alternate name of the Marble Temple. There were many people there, paying homage to the countless incantations of the Buddha that surrounded the complex.
25 minutes later I went back out on the street to find my driver. I walked up and down the street looking for him but to no avail. The son-of-a-bitch left me. However, the jokes was on him because I never paid. Luckily, this modern temple had wi-fi, so I was able to hire a Grab to take me to my next location, Kao San Road.
To say Kao San Road was the Center of the Backpacker Universe would be an understatement. There were so many hostels, restaurants, bars, shops, sex clubs, and a great number of drug pushers, it was astounding. I was unimpressed, mainly because I realized why I was such a mark walking amongst the people that looked like me. I just felt dirty walking around there. Although, I was able to negotiate the purchase of a fantastic Fjällräven Swedish backpack knockoff for 500 Baht or $15, which was a fantastic deal. I had lunch at a lovely restaurant that did not try to screw me, eating fried rice from a pineapple. I then started walking to Wat Pho.
Before I left Kao San, yet another person stopped me on the street and shook my hand asking me where I was from. I told him and we had a little conversation. He asked where I was going and I told him. He said it was too hot to be walking. I said I was OK. Without even acknowledging we had been talking for about 4-5 minutes, he dashed across the street to talk with a caucasian family. “Well, fuck me, I guess.” I thought to myself.
I continued walking and was stopped by yet another person telling me the temple was closed. He told me I should keep going past the temple and get on a boat and go to Wat Arun across the river. I got clear on directions and thanked him. There was no catch this time. He was wrong about the temple, though. I entered Wat Pho with no problem. The temples are not clearly marked, so I wandered around until I saw what I had come here to see: the Reclining Buddha.
Built in 1832, the reclining Buddha is a giant statue this is roughly 150 ft long and 50 ft high. It is a brick core with molder plaster that has then been gilded. The soles of the Buddha’s feet are the incredibly intricate mother of pearl inlays. It was a real marvel.
After that, I took the man on the street’s advice and got the ferry to Wat Arun. Wat Arun Ratchawararam Ratchawaramahawihan or Temple of Dawn. The temple gets its name from the Hindu god Aruna, often personified as the radiations of the rising sun. The Wat Arun complex had existed since at least the seventeenth century, but its distinctive prang (spires) were built in the early nineteenth century during the reign of King Rama II. What was even more amazing is that, to a certain level, you could climb the spires. There was some incredible tile work as well as intricate ceramic carvings that covered the spire as well as signs telling people not to try to balance themselves on the walls to take selfies.
After Wat Arun, I got myself a real reclining Buddha souvenir with paint and made my way back over the river. I walked all the way back to the hostel, which was about three miles. I was dehydrated because no 7-11 would let me use a credit card to pay for a drink. It had been a long day, so I went and got some dinner and booked a tour to take me to more temples and places of interest later in the week. I prepped my things that need washing as well as things that need to be mailed. I am expecting that one to be expensive. Ho-hum.
The next day was a bit of an Admin Day with a little fun thrown in. One of my clients wanted me to proofread a long letter, so that was my morning after I went to Family Mart to get some breakfast. Then I went through all the things that I wanted to send back home. I had picked up a lot of souvenirs and presents since the last time I mailed things in Korea and I was very much looking forward to lightening my suitcase.
I then headed to the post office that was rather close by. It took me a little bit to find it and learn the process of how to send mail since nothing was in English. I followed what other people did; took a number, then sat down. When it was my turn, I went to the counter and asked for a box. The lady spoke a little English, so she got me a box and I put everything I had brought into it: gifts from Cambodia and Vietnam as well as my expertly concealed scorpion rice wine hidden in a toilet paper roll. The lady helped me seal the package, get the proper shipping information which included an email address of the recipient, and voila my package of a few kilos was ready to be shipped halfway around the world for only $30. I was amazed. I went back to my room to drop off my bag when I notice I had forgotten to include another print I had purchased in Cambodia. So, I went back to the post office with the print in an envelope, and the same nice lady helped me mail that too. As far as post office visits go, it was a rather nice experience.
I then decided to enjoy the air conditioning of a nearby movie theatre and headed to see John Wick III. It started like any other theatre experience. However, something incredibly strange happened. After about 30 minutes of trailers (I timed it,) an announcement came over the screen spoken in Thai but written in English asking everyone to stand. Looking around the theatre, the other patrons jumped to their feet. I then decided I better do the same. The subsequent four-minute music video was a loving tribute to the King of Thailand, whose visage is all around the city, highlighting his various accomplishments and wonderful leadership. I looked around the theatre. Everyone was staring at the screen; some smiling, others scowling, still others just waiting for it to be over.
They take their Lèse-majesté (to do wrong to majesty) laws very, very seriously in this country. It is illegal to defame, insult, or threaten the king, queen, heir-apparent, heir-presumptive, or regent. With penalties ranging from three to fifteen years imprisonment for each count, it has been described as the world’s harshest lèse majesté law and possibly the strictest criminal-defamation law anywhere. There was even a case of a Thai man facing 37 years in jail for insulting the King’s dog. I could not imagine if this law were passed in the US and how many people, including myself, would be jailed for speaking their minds about people in power. But, the royal family of Thailand had kept the country from becoming a colony of any other power, so perhaps this deference was warranted as so many other nations in the region fell.
After the film, I headed back to the hostel. I ate a rather large lunch, finished my work, and kicked back in my artic air-conditioned pod watching some Netflix. A little later, I went out to buy some food to pack in my new little backpack as the next day, I would be having an adventure!
I woke up early, gathered my things, then headed out to the main street to find my awaiting travel van. I and my fellow passengers (two Indian women and two Filipino men) were on our way to Ayutthaya. Over the course of its existence, Thailand has had three capitals. While the latest was Bangkok, the one before was Ayutthaya with Sukhothai being the very first. After about an hour of driving, we stopped at a rest area where I encountered my old nemesis, the squatting toilet. For those that have not had the pleasure, it is basically a hole in the ground with two places to plant one’s feet. I have seen them in many corners of the world except America, even in places that might surprise you. Let’s just say that good balance is a prerequisite for use.
As we continue on our way, the first stop was at the King of Thailand’s Summer Palace. This is where I knew this tour would go off the rails. The company and guide did not inform us that there was a dress code. Being in the late spring of Thailand, the thermometer crept up to the high eighties by 11 am. The women, who were dressed in shorts, needed to put on long dresses in order to enter the compound. It just so happened that people outside of the palace were offering skirt and pant rentals. Instead of being a tour guide, basically the person we all hired hung out at the cafeteria by the gift shop with his tablet and told us to come back in an hour.
A bit flustered by the guide’s lack of attention, I set out to look around the palace. There were so many different styles of buildings and architecture: from Italian to Cambodian, Colonial, Chinese, Japanese, and of course, Thai. Apparently, after being born and studying abroad, the King of Thailand never leaves the country. So, he brought other countries to him.
After this, we headed to another temple, Wat Yai Chai Mongkol. Much like before, our guide told us to walk around for an hour as he sat in the van with our driver. Around this temple complex had fantastic great and unique spires that were built in the Sri Lankin style. They also had another “clothed” reclining Buddha which, of course, I had dozens of pictures taken.
Next we went to Wat Lokayasutha, which to me was the REAL reclining Buddha. Anyone that played video games in the early 90’s will know why. I took a lot more photos, but we were only there for 10 minutes before we headed to yet another temple complex.
We arrived at Wat Mahathat and again were told to go on our own. This was basically an unrestricted temple and we could go anywhere we wanted. Again, I was reminded of religious pillage that I had seen far too often as the compound was littered with decapitated Buddha statues, courtesy of the invading Burmese army. However, one head in particular, was left staring out at the world. Much like Angkor Thom, this decapitated head was slowly reclaimed by nature, being nestled in the middle of a bunch of trees that sprouted around it. Walking further around the compound, there were elephants including an incredibly cute young one that stole carrots from a lady’s purse.
While our tour included lunch, it was in a small hole in the wall in the middle of nowhere with terrible food. When I arrived back in the city, the first thing I did was write a complaint cataloging all the things wrong with the tour. Thankfully, the company, without hesitation, refunded me for the whole thing.
The next part of my day’s adventure is probably one of the weirdest yet most unique experiences I ever had in my life. My friend Fooch from South Korea recommended that I visit a unique restaurant during my stay in Bangkok. Apparently, as a method of imparting some culture from the Hermit Kingdom, Kim Jong Il the former dear leader of North Korea decided to set up a bunch of North Korean restaurants/cultural centers in relatively neutral countries. Thailand was no different. I put on my best clothes, including a tie, and headed to Kim Jong Il’s Happy Funtime North Korean Wonderful Beautiful Barbecue Palace and Friendship Cultural Exchange Center. My Grab arrived and off we went. The driver told me since the government of Thailand was changing over, the old one decided to do all the road projects at once. It took us about an hour to move 5KM. I told him the same thing happened in America. We both chuckled. I then arrived at the restaurant.
From the outside, it looked like any other Korean Barbeque place I had seen in the world, with the only exception that the cartoon characters on the sign were dressed in traditional Korean garb. I entered the establishment through the swinging doors and immediately got a table. A thick curtain closed behind me. I clocked the room. I saw there was a table of Japanese men already deep into their North Korean Whiskey and a table in the back of Chinese men that just sat there smoking cigarettes, faces stern but uninterested in my arrival. On the post in the middle of the room, I saw there was a WIFI code and right underneath a large sign in a multitude of languages saying NO PHOTOS as a Kenny G rendition of Yesterday played over and over again. Just as I was looking at the metal chopsticks on my table that I could use to make my escape if needed, an impossibly beautiful hostess came over and offered me a menu. At first, she addressed me in perfect German, then perfect French until she finally asked in English where I was from. I beckoned her to come closer, which she did, and said, “The United States.” A smile curled her lips. “Welcome,” she said.
Apparently, this young woman and all the other hostesses were from politically connected families in Pyongyang and were educated at the finest universities in North Korea. Only the most beautiful, talented, and loyal were selected to leave their homeland for 3-8 years to go to these restaurants and spread North Korean good cheer. The selection process was rigid. I remember what Fooch said about maxim in South Korea about the perfect match, “Northern women, Southern men.” I also remembered my own, rather adroit, inference regarding Communist countries: pretty girls get fed.
As I did not want to use a credit card and my amount of Baht was limited, I only ordered a North Korean Whiskey and ginger ale and Salmon Potato Cakes for dinner. Both were excellent. I clandestinely broke their no photo rule by only taking a picture of my food. More hostesses came to talk to me as they made their rounds around the room. I finished my meal and was about to ask for the check when the first hostess came up to me and said that the floor show would start in 15 minutes if I wanted to stay. I sure as hell did.
Back in 2000, Madeleine Albright, then Secretary of State under Bill Clinton, made the first official visit of any high-ranking American diplomat to North Korea. After all the pomp and circumstance of a state visit including shaking hands, receiving flowers from children, and some talks, her hosts decided to go the extra mile to impress her. Kim Jong Il, at the time, had the single largest film collection for an individual in the world. Needless to say, he had a penchant for the dramatic. Filling a stadium with beautiful dancers and intricate choreography, I can imagine the Secretary was feeling overwhelmed. As I soon would be.
The floor show began with the singing of the North Korean national anthem. The next part of the show was some type of costumed North Korean folk dance. It was supposed to tell a story of a forbidden courtship but looked more like two people dancing like wind-up dolls, my impossibly beautiful hostess playing the man. The following was an entire saxophone solo of the Celine Dion classic My Heart Will Go On from the 1997 film Titanic. Next was something like the North Korean Supremes when all the hostesses did a wardrobe change into different colored sequined ball gowns, got up on stage like a 60’s doo-wop group and sang. Finally, it was time for some audience participation as the Village People classic YMCA started blaring overhead as the house lights were shut off and the disco lights came up. The women came down from the stage and started pulling people up from their tables. They first tried with the Chinese businessmen, who were having none of it. Moving on to the table of drunk Japanese men, they got a few volunteers. Finally, the impossibly beautiful hostess came to my table, stuck out her hand, and invited me to dance. I took her hand and moved to the floor. She seemed impressed by my moves.
When the dance was over, I sat back down and ordered the check. The impossible beauty then beckoned me to come to the host stand to pay my bill. They needed two people to watch as bills were exchanged. I asked my hostess if it were OK to tip. She smiled and pointed at the most Communist thing I had seen all night, the tip jar. I thanked them for a lovely evening. I finally understood the enticement of a honeypot.
I decided to risk technological espionage and connect to their WIFI via a VPN to call a Grab. A car that looked like a whip from the Fast and the Furious arrived. I had to check twice just to make sure it was the right car. I got in and the driver quickly sped back to my hostel, dropping me off in record time. It had been a long and interesting day, and I was very ready to go to sleep.
The next day was a bit of a relaxed one. As was my custom when I got to a new city and it was available, I open the dating app to Bumble to see if I could meet up with someone. Even if we never got together, I felt it was a great way to learn about the city from someone who lived there, much more than from some guide. When I opened the app this time, I saw someone responded, so we chatted a little and set up a date for later that day.
My first order of business was to find a metro stop. It was a straight shot down the street from where I was staying. I headed out of the hostel and walked past a monk school in the middle of the city. The juxtaposition of the ancient and the modern was fascinating. I stopped in and walked around the temple and noticed there was a little donation box apparently for people that could not afford funerals for their loved ones. I continued on to the metro and found that the price point was less than a dollar to get where I needed to go. As I was walking back to the hostel outside of the monk school, I saw an incredibly cute child that could not have been more than a year and a half old chasing after an orange robbed monk with his hands clasped as his mother looked on. It was adorable.
When I returned to the hostel, the owner was there to greet me. We chatted for a little bit. The wonderful thing about this hostel was that there was always a selection of teas to drink. The proprietor wanted to open his own tea shop but decided that a hostel would be the better investment. He still made teas and offered them to his guests free of charge. We talked a little more and he regrettably informed me that I would be having company in the hostel, although thankfully not in my room. I thanked him for his hospitality, then went to my room to prepare for my date.
Penny (not her given name) suggested that we meet up at Terminal 21, an incredibly trendy shopping mall in the middle of downtown Bangkok. The interesting thing about Terminal 21, just like the King’s Summer Palace, each floor was designed to look like some other part of the world. There was Paris, London, Tokyo, San Francisco, with the top floor of the cinemas appropriately decorated as Tinseltown itself. The very surprising and terrifying thing about this mall is that the escalators jut out into the air, even 10 stories up with zero regard for safety.
I met Penny in Japan after she was about 15 minutes late. She apologized profusely as we walked to a cafe. She was embarrassed because she hated the stereotype of Thai people always being late. I assured her it was nothing and was very glad we were able to meet up. She still committed her penance by buying me a tea. We sat and chatted about her busy life as an executive for a rather large soft drink company, her worldly travel including doing the Incan trail in Peru and seeing Milkyway for the first time, and our dating woes. After about an hour of chatting, she had another engagement (a class of some type) and so we parted as friends. She was a lovely young woman. She would be in my thoughts much later for a very different reason.
I headed back to Kao San Road as my sister put in a very specific order for a gift, a singing bowl. The singing bowl originated from pre-Buddhist Shamanic Bon Po culture in the Himalayas, and it was often called “Tibetan” Singing Bowl. The bowls were made in various countries as Bhutan, Nepal, India, and Tibet, but figuring it was a Buddhist country, they would be available. So, I headed back into the belly of the beast to find her one. It took about an hour of walking around and asking in the many different shops that lined the street. I finally found one as well as the ubiquitous backpacker long elephant pajama bottom-like pants. I then headed to the closest post office.
Another item that I purchased on Kao San Road for myself was a Thai Red Bull shirt. When I first heard of the drink, I was immediately captivated by its origin story. Austrian entrepreneur Dietrich Mateschitz was inspired by an existing energy drink named Krating Daeng, which was first introduced and sold in Thailand by Chaleo Yoovidhya. He took this idea, modified the ingredients to suit the Westerners palette. In partnership with Chaleo, they founded Red Bull GmbH in 1987 in Chakkapong, Thailand. The rest was history.
But Red Bull was near and dear to my heart for another reason. During another difficult year in my life, I was going through a bout of depression. I was turning 30 in 2012 and many things did not seem to be going my way. However, Red Bull being Red Bull at the forefront of “alternative” pastimes including snowboarding, motocross, and even the famous flugtag, decided they were going to do something spectacular, Red Bull Stratos. On October 14, 2012, 22 days from my 30th birthday, Austrian skydiver Felix Baumgartner flew approximately 24 miles into the stratosphere over New Mexico in a helium balloon before free falling in a pressurized suit and then parachuting to Earth, a world record. Watching it all live from the Rue de la Course coffee shop on Maple and Carrolton in New Orleans as I did not have enough money to get internet in my apartment, this single event gave me hope for myself and for my future. I was so moved by it, I wrote Red Bull a letter filled with nothing but praise and honesty about what they had given me. Their response, atypical to other major corporations, was a heartfelt reply and a free subscription to their magazine. It was a personal honor to purchase this shirt.
I walked down a neighboring street to Kao San and found a nice little restaurant that served Pad Thai. I had a Chang beer and watched the tourists and the locals pass as I had my wonderful dinner before heading back to my hostel.
The next day, I woke up and headed directly to the Grand Palace and Wat Phra Keow. To put it mildly, it was anti-climactic. After wading through a myriad of Chinese tourists, I was able to pay my 450 Baht or $14 to get in, the most of any temple in Thailand. It is free for locals, however. The grounds around the temple were OK, but nothing I had not seen before. The exception being the giant golden Sri Lankan stupa. I went into the Temple of the Jade Buddha, supposedly the holiest site in Thailand, and again thoroughly unimpressed. A jade figurine stood in the distance about the size of a 1960ʼs GI Joe action figure. There were dozens of people on their knees praying, but the guards kept herding people through, shuffling past confusing signs. After one was escorted out, they were not allowed to re-enter.
I headed back to the hostel to take a nap and pack. I woke up to a rather revealing selfie from someone I had spoken to on Bumble when I was back in New Zealand for some reason, but I certainly was not complaining. I had bigger plans for tonight, though.
Being a child of the 80’s, of course I was a fan of martial arts, action cinema, and fighting video games, I decided tonight I would treat myself to VIP ringside seats at a Muy Thai fight. Muy Thai, Thai Boxing, or Kick Boxing is the semi-official sport of Thailand. Exported the world over, it is a fighting style that uses hands, elbows, knees, and shins. And I was excited.
I got to the arena and was lead to my ringside seat. I looked around and realized my formal attire was a little too much. At least I left my Don King fur coat back at the hostel. I was seated on the “Red” side so during the 10 flyweights (100 lbs) bouts, these were the fighters for whom I would be cheering. Much like during John Wick, the King’s same music video played as everyone in the arena stood and paid homage.
Each fight began with a little dance around the ring, drumming up support for the fighters. An interesting aspect of the fights was that they let foreigners compete. There was this one fighter from Spain that cracked someone’s eye open like Rocky with a swift kick to the head. However, he was eventually knocked out. I saw two knockouts and one person carried off on a stretcher. However, this would not be the worst thing I would see.
Unbeknownst to me, I did not know it was kid’s night. The last two fights we comprised of 10-year-olds kicking the utter shit out of each other. In the final bout, one child was kicked so hard he started crying and the referee stopped the fight so that the boy could regain his composure. He ended up winning the fight as the other child quit after his eye swelled up. The other westerners in the VIP section looked around at each other, questioning what we all had just seen. At that very moment, after this one night in Bangkok, I had my fill of Thailand.
