On Monday morning we headed for the airport. While waiting to check in, a tour bus filled with Russian women began to filter in to the check-in lines. The scene reminded us of a part of "Lord of the Rings" in which Gimli says something along the lines of, "it's not that there are no dwarf women, it's just that they look so much like the men." And they sounded like a chorus of moving men, particularly when each and every one of them whipped out packing tape and started wrapping their fake Louis Vuiton luggage in it.
We also met an Aussie on line who was proudly wearing a t-shirt that depicted Hitler and George W. Bush side by side, with an explanatory phrase written underneath that was unprintable here, yet salient in its comparison between byproducts and excretory functions. (Here's a link to the image that may not be safe for work) When we asked him what he did for a living, he explained that he specialized in fish logistics and worked in Alaska, but that he hated Alaska. So given the t-shirt and hate of Alaska, we chalked his apparel up to weirdness and boarded the plane.
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| Wat's that? |
We finished off the day with some delicious food at a little Western-friendly restaurant called Tongue Thai. It was there that my little brother accused me of being a girly man for ordering a pina colada. This was somewhat of a strong statement for someone still legally incapable of drinking in the State of New York, particularly when the drink showed up literally bursting with booze. But I guess he felt more manly drinking some weak Singha.
The real point of this blog post, however, is to say the following: Thailand rocks. The street food is amazing, the pollution lower than anything in Beijing, and you can buy western newspapers and magazines at a newsstand. More importantly, smoking is banned in air-conditioned locations in Bangkok, people get fined for littering, and the population does not spit on the street whenever given the opportunity to do so. There is somewhat of a rat problem, as we found out when walking back to our hotel the first night in Bangkok, but really that's a small price to pay.
There's also a pervasive love for the Siamese King, which is most obviously represented by the fact that his face is plastered on any billboard not otherwise occupied by advertisements. Also in the "pro" column was the fact that the Thai people were much less abrasive than the Chinese with respect to bargaining, that they love elephants, that they make delicious spicy salads (Sounds gross, I know, but it's actually really good), and that the cops are helpful, not belligerent and lazy. A member of their special "tourist police" even stopped to warn us about pickpockets on a street that we were about to walk down.
But our Thai touring started in earnest on Tuesday. We visited all of the main wats (Buddhist temples) in Bangkok, including the Wat Phra Kaeo, Wat Arun, and the Wat Pho. The Wat Phra Kaeo is next to one of the king's palaces, and probably the most ornate in Thailand. It is also the home of the Emerald Buddha, which has a fairly fascinating history.
We learned in the adjacent palace that all of Thailand is in mourning because the king's sister died two months ago. So in addition to being decked out with pictures of the king, the entire country also has pictures of his dead sister plastered everywhere, surrounded by black and white bunting. We had seen the pictures, but hadn't quite figured out what was going on until one of the guards at the palace told us something that sounded like: "king's sitter" died.
Touring Bangkok's main wats was unbearably hot. But we got it done in one day, despite the fact that three different cabs attempted to rip us off for 100 baht. We also managed to inadvertently crash a wedding reception for lunch that day at a little restaurant located not too far from the river.
For dinner, however, Katie and I went out without the Schwalbs for a hot date. Our evening involved visiting a little restaurant called Hemlock and having more delicious Thai food, and then going to a late-night market frequented mainly by expats and tourists. The thing about expats and tourists in Bangkok, near as we can tell, is that they fall into four distinct categories: younger folks in their late teens and twenties looking to party, folks on their honeymoons looking to party, Caucasian men looking to party with Thai women, and then sketchy-looking older men who may or may not be pedophiles. All four types were present at the late-night market, but they did not get in the way of us shopping for hippie pants and a dress for Katie to wear on the beach the next day.
Wednesday, then, involved a trip to the beach in Pataya. Pataya lies two hours away from Bangkok on a startling beautiful stretch of sand that's both breezy and warm. We found a nice little spot for the day that involved a certain level of harassment on the part of locals trying to sell us everything from sculpture to sun screen, but that was a small price to pay for a comfortable spot with a good umbrella and abundant fried food.
Ben and I went on a little sailing adventure with a guy named Jackie who insisted on singing at the top of his lungs, teaching Ben about his love of Charles Bronson, and hanging out with the family on the beach for about an hour. The singing was decent, except for the fact that he would only sing an old standard called "I am Sailing," and that he would sometimes spontaneously scream the lyrics at the top of his lungs.
So, naturally, this song was stuck in our heads for the rest of the day, as well as Jackie's ranting about the Chinese and how are polluting Asia. But this song cleared out of our heads by dinner, which we enjoyed in a little restaurant that specialized in both Western and Thai food. On the way out of town, however, we saw the seedier side of Thailand.
The American government has enjoyed a close relationship with the Siamese government for some time, particularly with respect to military bases and joint military training exercises. Right near Pataya is one of those training grounds, so there tends to be a fairly large population of U.S. soldiers. Also, despite government assertions to the contrary, Thailand has a somewhat notorious sex trade. So these two factors combined in Pataya that evening in the form of every bar in town being chock-full of prostitutes by about 6:30 p.m., on a weekday. It's sad, but it may also explain the elusive fourth category of expatriate that seems to hang out in Thailand.
On Thursday we visited Ayuthaya. Located two hours away from Bangkok, Ayuthaya is the ancient capital of Thailand, but was sacked and burned by the Burmese about 250 years ago. So most of the main sights are ruined wats that have been partially restored, but are still littered with burned religious iconography. At one wat in particular, when we noticed a pile of destroyed Buddha sculptures, at which point Ben compared the view to a breakfast cereal commercial. "Buddha Bits, now with more elbows!"
Like Bangkok, Ayuthaya was ridiculously hot, hence the title of the blog post. But the wats were fascinating, as was the elephant preserve just out of town.
We took our first tuktuk ride to get there, which involved cramming five of us in the back while I scrambled, sardine-like, into the the front seat with the driver. It was totally worth it, however, to feed the elephants and see their trainers raising them in an ancient Thai tradition, elephant powerwash and all.
One hour later we were headed back to Bangkok on a train without air conditioning for dinner at wonderful little restaurant called "Indian Hut." The food was amazing, and nothing like that "other" Hut, but their logo was a blatant infringement of Pizza Hut's trademark.
Friday was our last day in Bangkok, so we decided to do a few last-minute things we didn't want to miss. This included seeing snakes being milked for their venom, going shopping at Jim Thompson's store, riding Bangkok's Sky Train, shopping at the MBK center, and trying to take a tuktuk in Bangkok without getting the tourist treatment. (We failed in the latter)
The snake-milking was pretty cool: they have a regular show at a Red Cross outpost in Bangkok that specializes in both researching snake bite cures and determining the medicinal value of certain snake venoms. So all of the tourists march in at about 11 in the morning to watch the snakes get milked for fifteen minutes, and the Red Cross gets to charge an exorbitant fee for the curiosity. But it's all for a good cause, and there's a great museum accompanying the attraction.
Post-slithering, we visited the Jim Thompson store, which is essentially an extravaganza of silk predicated on the brand value of the name Jim Thompson. Thompson who was a former American intelligence officer and Bangkok expatriate turned silk merchant who disappeared under mysterious circumstances in 1967. (Check out the full story on WikiPedia.) The store's pretty nice and the goods are quite beautiful.
Above all, however, Friday was about street food and foot massages. With respect to food, the Thai streets are the kings and queens of Asia. As our friend Andrew likes to say, "Thais love to eat. Their big joke is that they make other cultures' dishes better; I think it's just another IPR violation." The food was so good that my little brother had this to say: "Sometimes I don't realize I'm hungry until I'm walking along and smell something delicious."
So, for a late lunch, we had some mutton soup and water buffalo cooked in banana leaves, followed by an unnamed dessert that involved small corn cakes filled with warm coconut milk. (This is now Katie's favorite food on earth) Earlier that week, we had also tried another concoction that was basically fried dough filled with bananas and covered with condensed milk and hot chocolate. Friday night, however, was a street food extravaganza, and involved sitting down at cheap tables on an open street near a Bangkok mosque and eating food cooked right off of a cart. Ben and I were in seventh heaven, although the rest of the family was not quite as keen. Best of all, however, was that I only saw one rat near the food stalls.
With respect to foot massages, I will only say that paying less than $10 for an hour's worth of heaven is completely worth it, particularly such a heaven occurs just before getting on a five-hour flight to Beijing on China Air.
Overall, having the Schwalb family here was a real treat, not only because they brought me my new Time Capsule, but also because it's been a long time since we've spent that much time with them. It became clear pretty early in the trip that my little sister is now hell-bent on making her teenage years a living hell for my Dad, which is somewhat funny in a schadenfreude sense because he had such comparatively easy time with the three brothers. It's also pretty clear that my little brother has become a hilarious young man who's a pleasure to spend time with, so long as no keyboards are within arms' reach. As Katie pointed out, this is probably the last time (for a while) that he'll probably be willing to go on such a big family vacation, now that college is right around the corner, barring bribery with ski passes. So, in a sense, this trip was bittersweet because the little annoying brother whose diapers I once changed is about to head off to college and start his own life, and he's finally cool.
Where's that damned tissue box?
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