Bangkok: Megalopolis or Game Show?

Let's be honest. If you're going to do Bangkok, it might as well be in a single day. And if you're going to do Bangkok in a single day -- reality tv style -- it might as well be on that venerated of holidays, the eve and morn of His Majesty the King's birthday.

It's, like, the backpacker-tourist holy grail. Getting past the scammers to find out if things (the Grand Palace?) are open; finding the whereabouts to mix the nightlife with the daylife; and generally surviving the throngs, the heat, the stickiness, and the weirdness and grime long enough to make it back to your room and take yet another shower. Just on our block on the infamous Khao San Road, there are without a doubt over a thousand vendors. I didn't even take a lot of pictures (O rarity!) for fear of losing my camera, and anyway who needs snapshots of Chang Beer tank tops and another chicken-on-a-stick cart?

Meanwhile, we managed to get a blissfully vegetarian meal in at a spot Brita and Lonely Planet recommended (thanks B-Munny!) -- as good as the food is in Thailand, it might be served devoid of any vegetables, and often entire menu sections start with "deep fried" -- and a delicious, legit, roast duck place (seconds on the duck, please!) frequented by locals and recommended by our guide, Suwit, who travels to Bangkok often.

I have to jump around. Like I said earlier: love the blog, but don't have ten hours to catch you up on everything! Saw the reclining Buddha. Tres sweet! Impressive indeed. We loved the details, mother of pearl, outlining the stories of the 108 Buddha postures, on the soles of his feet.


Wat Arun was a favorite for both of us. The ferry ride over is exciting; the detail is incredible; the temple's steep ladders no joke; and the proximity to the water and the Grand Palace impressive. Wat Arun at sunset, meanwhile, is downright romantic.

After dark, and another gauntlet walk through Khao San -- which by now, on the eve of HM the K's birthday, was basically unapproachable by car -- we got taken by a broad-grinning tuk-tuk driver with the fume-belching, backfiring three-wheeler from hell (300 THB -- about $9 -- for a trip that cost us THB 59 returning in a wonderfully air-conditioned taxi.) But we did, eventually, get taken to our destination: the swank Sirocco bar, high atop the city -- the kind of place, in short, we could never get into in the States (if it exists at all.) We bought Ash a pair of $5 close-toed rubber shoes, a size too small, from a street vendor so she'd be allowed up.



Even in Baht, the place was mighty pricy -- but the voyage well worth it.

By this point, we felt totally toast. But we weren't too surprised when a polite game of Thai'nglish charades with the cabbie revealed that we'd be getting dropped off somewhere short of the hotel -- the King's birthday would allow nothing closer. No matter that tens of thousands of people clogged the street, and we weren't sure of our location, much less the route back. But the Thais do make for a safe, orderly mob -- snapping pictures, staying sober, leaving quietly at the end -- so we didn't mind sticking around for a rather amazing sensory display I can't really discribe, with human dragons, fireworks, music, high-wire gymnastics, colored fountains, loudspeakers echoing out propaganda, and the like.



We've met several people from the region whose only pilgrimage to the States was to Disney Land or World, if you get what I'm saying. We'd heard Ratchdamnoen Klang -- Ratchdamnoen (or, Rajdamnern) also being the name of our street in Chiang Mai -- was decorated for the King's bday, but we had no way to know it would be like this. Also, word had been that everyone wears yellow for the King on his birthday. That's not quite right -- when he's ill, as now, everyone understands to switch to pink ("happy color!")

The Grand Palace -- open, free, to the teeming pink hoards; ornate, resplendant, and reverant, and angular -- was supposed to be (a) not open yet; (b) closed entirely; or (c) um, well, discussion, closed, emphatically closed, according to, on our walk, (a) a cab driver; (b) a tuk-tuk driver; and (c) a group of policemen and women.

We asked (c) because we didn't feel we could trust (a) or (b), who had agendas and wanted to take us elsewhere. The police, however, were equally wrong; you have to be very careful how you ask certain things of Thai people, because they won't answer you in any way that might displease you. So, "I don't know" was not an option, even for the cops. (See previous post for the Maehongson stories; we learned to ask Suwit not when we would get somewhere, only how many more kilometers it was.)

Anyway, we got our "Bangkok scammers" stories. And while I realize I'm not doing justice to any of these places, and have almost completely dropped the Grand Palace, I'm actually too tired to go on, which is totally emblematic of how Bangkok makes you feel anyway.

We made it back to the airport, exactly 24 hours after we'd left it. We went a little early, just to be sure. After all, we needed a calm meal, a little space, and some air-con.

NEXT UP:

The downshift. Ko Samui -- which is raining cats and dogs at the moment, some time after midnight -- is about as far, holistically, from Bangkok as you can get...