Thanksgiving

Three nights aren't enough to scratch the surface in Thailand, though Lynne and I tried. She's writing a travelogue on Facebook, and as an anti-Facebookist, I will leave most of the story for her to tell.

In Bangkok we stayed about half way between two stops on the (relatively) new Skytrain. Versus the three to five hours it used to take to get from airport to downtown, we were whisked to the hotel in a pretty brisk hour and fifteen minutes. The walk from the Skytrain to the hotel was eye-and nose-opening, past several sidewalk restaurants (that give al fresco dining new meaning), . satay and fruit vendors, a flower garland seller, around several beggars, over railroad tracks, under overpasses, past many armed guards--only about two blocks--freaked Lynne out that first night, but she was a trooper.

Determined as I was to use public transportation, where the cost of a ride is entirely predictable both in baht and in time, we were only scammed 2.5 times by taxi drivers out of our first three rides in Bangkok.

How we were treated by our Grand Palace tour guide Lek, is another matter entirely. She did not scam us. We paid to be browbeaten, dammit! To the extent that two big noisy North American women can be intimidated by a teeny Thai woman, we certainly were. No pictures could happen until Lek had fully informed us about the history and significance of the vista we wanted to shoot, "First I will say, then you will know" then she would say "Okay, now you can make picture."

No surreptitious picture-taking, either. "No, not there...there, stupa number two, not stupa number one. Not til I say make picture."

She wielded a hot pink umbrella against the relentless sun, and to be absolutely certain that she could put it up above crowds to draw our attention if we somehow didn't spring to attention when she spoke. I believe she'd have used it to whack us had we snapped the wrong stupa or sequence of events (the correct sequence being Lek speaks, points, Depi and Lynne dutifully make picture). Lek did, after all, say "You, hat off," then physically snatched it from the head of a Japanese tourist silly enough to fail to uncap in the presence of Buddha...and Lek. If Lek would do that to an unsuspecting passerby, what might she do to us, whose names she already knew?

"Lynne. Nice name. That sound Asian. Depi, that not sound Asian."

Lek was a piece of work for sure. For some reason, she figured that I'd be the more easily intimidated, perhaps since I lacked Asian name. Lek would slap me on the arm (not a tap, a slap, with just a tad of sting) and say "Come this way. Where Lynne?" and we'd both trot to keep up with her...Lynne somehow managing to avoid the physical abuse that Lek showered ever so affectionately on me.

"Lek make picture of Lynne and Depi. Depi, you stand there. Lynne, you stand there. No Lynne, I said you stand there. Okay, Lek take picture now. One...two...two and a half...three.
Okay, I show you more."

"Take intermission. Now. Sit." That meant that Lek wanted to sit in the shade for a minute or two. Then she'd swat me again ("time to go look something else") get the death grip on my arm and haul me to the next item of importance in Lek-world (aka the Grand Palace complex), recognizing that a magnetic force drew Lynne along, too, as I was being woman-handled (or maybe Lynne just enjoyed observing the abuse and didn't want to miss any!). "I will show you three more buildings then Lek go and you stay at air conditioned museum. You see what Buddha wear in summer there. Pay attention."

We did. We dare not disobey Lek's command.

Sadly, we left Lek behind to abuse and amuse other unsuspecting tourists at the Grand Palace and struck out on our own to see other sights in Bangkok. Emboldened, by the example set by that elderly Thai woman, we waged psychological combat with a couple of officious guards who wanted to confiscate our purses and cameras at our next stop, the Teak Mansion (they won). Next, we didn't buy the ratty looking polyester wrap around skirts to be permitted in to the former Parliament building, since we were covered elbows to ankles in deference to all the Buddhist temples we'd already visited. In that skirmish, we accomplished a draw. We won, in that we do not own ratty skirts. Perhaps we also lost, in that we did not see the inside of the building. By four pm, we'd probably been too long out in the debilitating heat and verged on cranky...ready for a quiet night at the hotel. Plus, we planned to have Thanksgiving "dinner" in the executive lounge at the Marriott.

There, we were very thankful (though maybe mostly for conditioned air). We had turkey something or other, an oddly sweet chopped bread item the chef said was stuff (that cracked me up, because I *think* he meant stuffing, but maybe he did actually mean stuff), the ubiquitous pahd thai in lieu of mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables with oyster sauce, a peculiar pumpkin dessert (I really believe that was just an alleged pumpkin). The Thai take on Thanksgiving dinner was unique. But several glasses of wine compensated for any culinary deficiencies, real or perceived, of the Thanksgiving feast. Beyond enjoying food and drink, Lynne was also thankful that we had not been scammed by multiple taxi drivers, pick-pocketed, and that the Marriott did not get attacked by terrorists during our visit. I don't know what makes me say things that makes Lynne worry, but in my own defence, she's a worrier.

An after dinner stroll took us to the shopping quarter, in honor of Black Friday, and another opportunity to savor the weirdness of the run-up to Christmas as experienced in Asia. I know, there are many things wrong with the whole set of rituals that accompany Christmas, wherever encountered. But there's something horribly wrong and very funny about hearing Elvis lament in surround sound that it will be a blue blue Christmas without me, in 90 degree weather, against a backdrop of palm trees, tuk tuks, and street vendors, in Bangkok.

To get a little feel for non-urban Thailand, we spent most of Friday in Nonthaburi. The water taxi was only 13 baht (about 30 cents), each way, for an hour ride upriver from the city. But for the diesel fumes from our boat, it was nice to leave the smell and crowds and grime of Bangkok behind for a few hours to enjoy a different kind of smells and crowds. Nonthaburi had just opened a brand new provincial museum (very well done, housed in an old colonial administrative complex that was being refurbed) where we spent a cool half hour, then on to another of the hundreds of amazing Buddhist temples large and small that dot the landscape, to a great waterfront restaurant. There, for just over $10 we had rice, pahd thai, a couple of bottles of water, iced coffee, and a whole sea bass cooked on a charcoal brazier right in front of us, with a view of long-tailed boats skim up and down the river. Nonthaburi's town market was next, full of both novel and mundane wares and abundantly odoriferous, especially the wet market part. Trudging through sludge in the wet market also caused fairly odorous feet, given that we walked through puddles of various fluids draining from fish, eels, eviscerated frogs, all kinds of land creatures, shellfish, etc. It was mostly noticeable when we got back on the boat and the sun started baking our feet...anyway, the wet market was a potent reminder about how far we are away from the knowledge and reality (sights and smells) of our food supplies, and how much closer, still, Asians are. The wet market still thrives across Thailand and many other Asian countries, but is on the verge of extinction in Singapore. Just another reminder of the pace and direction of change and how quickly difference (which we experience as exotic and the native people experience as daily life) is vanishing around the world.

Too bad it seemed impractical to stick around for whatever event the local Nonthaburians were setting up. I speculated dragon boat races (mainly from pictures) in honor of the King's birthday (coming December 5th--at 62 years on the throne, the longest reigning monarch in the world, venerated as a near-god). There were bleachers going up on the pier, Thai flags and yellow bunting, and durians (a very smelly local fruit) hung from many of the lampposts. There seemed to be an air of pent up festiveness about to erupt, but we wanted to get back to Bangkok before dark, around 6 pm.

So we headed back to Bangkok, dining that evening at the very lovely Blue Elephant restaurant. The meal was superb and the ambiance high colonial. You just expected a pukah sahib in a pith helmet to stick a head around a corner any moment. I ended the meal (yummy) with a Bangkok sampler--tiny tastes of desserts. I wanted mainly to try the durian cheesecake, without committing to an entire serving. What can I say? The coconut flan was great, the sticky rice with mango was delicious, the black sesame ice cream was definitely intriguing, and the durian cheesecake with ginger crust--tasted nearly as bad as durian smells. I really tried not to smell it and only to taste it, and I tried as hard as I could to think about only the taste sans smell. But I don't think durian will EVER be one of my acquired tastes. In fact, even 24 hours later, thinking about having that in my mouth makes me feel a little queasy.

Chatuchak market Saturday morning rounded out our three day sojourn to Thailand. As alien as some experiences seemed, western influences have changed the character of the city dramatically in the past ten years. Hearing Bing Crosby singing White Christmas, was as incongruous as Elvis the night before, that's for sure. Tacky tee shirts and souvenirs were in abundance, alongside beautifully made handicrafts and silk items. We shopped and regretted having too little money and carrying capacity that limited our purchases. Thankfully, we hit the market early enough; as we left just before noon, people were streaming in their thousands into the market--already oppressively hot and airless and nearly as jammed as Bangkok's roads. Time for a swim in the chilled pool at the Marriott (we were actually cold and had to bundle up when we got out, LOVELY, I cannot wait to be routinely cool again!), then the bag drag to the airport via Skytrain as a human pack mule (no unnecessary traffic james and taxis for the intrepid and scam averse) and goodbye Thailand.

Bangkok was fascinating. Lively, exotic, smelly, intriguing, worrisome, noisy, delicious, dirty, charming, all at the same time. The military and police are very high profile which lends a sinister air in a country where a coup seems always in the offing, and scam artists keeps you on your toes. Yet there are breathaking sights, delicious flavours, and the amazingly gracious and friendly people who greet you by making wai that make you want to come back. It was only a few days, but it certainly was an Asian experience different from what Lynne will experience here.

We're back now, safe and sound, if slightly bored, in the Asia-light that is Singapore, Sameapore, Singlebore. Back to work for the two of us.