BOM-BKK

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-Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Bangkok. The temperature outside is +35C, local time is 6:31pm.

I queue in front of a blue counter saying "Visa on arrival", and with smaller letters below - "1 minute per person". Behind the counter there is a table supporting a massive portrait of the thai king and some vases with flowers. I somehow ended up in the middle of a large group of guys travelling from Bangalore (or so it says on one of their luggage tags). They seem to be much more alive than I am, cracking jokes all the time in the language i don't understand, pushing towards the counter with their bellies and fiddling with 7 items which are on the thai authority list for getting the visa. Next to our general queue is another one, fast track for transfer passengers and tourist groups. The latter seem to arrive predominantly from east asia and consist almost exclusively of women. One minute per person statement is nowhere near the reality, we are getting bored, my head is pounding and everything around seems to be in a bit of a haze after a 15 hours travel from London and 5 hours of sleep at best in the last 37. Then the guys behind me knock over the barrier that separates the two queues - this produces a large outburst of uncontrollable laughter and they start repairing the damage diligently. Finally my 7 items are checked, I get my queue number and am into another queue in front of the passport control counters. Here the authorities are less optimistic and the message says in big friendly letters "Documents check - two minutes per person". So it will take twice as long, I take it.



We are waiting for the lady behind the Taxi counter to do the paperwork and take the payment. A sunburnt tourist next to us had arrived a bit earlier, and is producing a stack of local banknotes to pay for his transport. He gives the notes to the Taxi girl standing next to hime on our side of the counter, puts his hand behind her back and happily-drunkely-ozzyly says "Can you count them for me? i can't". She's happy to. The stack is quickly split in two, and she suddenly starts counting the other Taxi staff members to the ozzy guy

- look, one-two-three-four of us...

- Wait, what are you saying?

- tip for us!

- oh tip! here you go.

Everyone's happy, the guy is taken to his car.



- What's the name of your hotel?

- Penpark place...?

- Hmm dunno this one, give me the phone number.

- It's in my bag, in the boot.

He pulls off to the left, gets out and opens the boot. I get out too to fetch the printout with hotel details. Back in the car he is driving with one hand and switching on all the possible lights with the other one to read the phone number. Calls, asks something, hangs up. He has no gps and no money counter. His phone has a picture of a young baby.

- I know Samsen, but dunno this hotel. Cheap one? I know big ones, but not yours. How much did you pay? 300 baht for one day and one night?

- Hmm i can't remember... 1000 i think?

- 1000? oooh that's expensive...

I'm not sure if he has more troubles understanding our english than the other way round, but we keep chatting all the way.

- Do you live in bangkok?

- Nono, my family lives on a farm, in a village on the border with Cambodia. I go there every 5-6 months. I am driving 2 years here in Bangkok. I have a room here to sleep. I speak thai, malay, singapore, but english - not much. I had lessons when i started driving here.

- What did you do before that?

- emm.... sorry... (says something in thai, i assume he doesn't understand)

- ok, never mind, haha

- haha!

- Do you work every day?

- I work 4 days a week, 24 hours. I have another driver, we drive the same car, when i sleep he works.

- You work for 24 hours?

- Yes, yes. My company gives me 10% of what you pay. Oh, see that was the king (points at another large portrait displayed above the motorway), his name is...., and his family name is...

I can't make our the names, but that brings another question to my mind.

- What do you call the local money?

- mmm?

- See, in america - dollars, here - ?

-Aaa, here - bat!

- ok, bat.

- in england?

- pound.

- pound? never see!

- ok, we give you one.

- thank you, thank you! for souvenirs, for my family.

We fish out a 2-quid coin and give it to him. He seems happy, switching on the lights again to have a look.

- King?

- No, queen.

We drive through a mingle of motorway bridges. Some skyscrapers start springing around, scarsely lit or so it seems through the misty sticky dark air.

- Is it raining now here?

- No, now no rain. In 2 months rain starts. Then farming starts, for 5 months. On the farm, they - plop-plop!

He makes a gesture as if putting something in the ground.

- Rice?

- Yes rice.

- Do you have kids?

- I have sons and a daughter. She is 5 months old.

He produces his phone again to show the baby picture to us. We are in the centre of the city now, going around a large temple. Traffic gets heavier.

- Aah trafic jam! It's 1 km to your hotel, but i'll go around. I go 2-3 km, but no trafic jam. Good gor me, good for you!

- ok!



The guy at the hotel reception speaks better english and has pink nail varnish on his left hand. After a quick shower we dispatch ourselves into the syrop-like air in the search of food. I start suspecting that we are using a back entrance to the hotel, as it leads us onto a small street with a bunch of stray-looking dogs and some impressive houses - or are they hotels? Hard to tell in the dark. We pass a 7-11 (hurray! can buy some food here, if nothing else), and walk along a main-ish street with shabby buildings and aircon puddles. Indian restaurant, empty. Indian? no, let's look for something local. A bit further down the road - vegetarian thai and cooking school. Let's try. We sit down at a table covered by a tatty dark red tablecloth, with three heavy black wooden chairs around it. Another couple in the restaurant is russian, pregnant and sunburnt. We eye the menu - seaweed, noodle soup, lassi, thai ice tea, red curry, green curry, black rice with banana and mango for dessert. It's so cheap. Our coconut milk noodle soup and deep fried seaweed with spicy mango sauce is absolutely delicious. We start reading the cooking classes ad. The restaurant head lady comes to our table

- How is it?

- It's great, thank you!

- First time here?

- Yes

- Ahhh!

A group of white guys flock by the entrance. She opens the door to them

- Come in guys, hello!

It says on the menu that they are open till 10pm, we definitely turned up after 10, and these guys came at 11pm or so. It seems to be a family business, a teenage guy is sitting at the counter and another lady walks out of the kitchen with a baby.



We are back to the room, and fall asleep straight away. At 4am my jetlag kicks in, after two hours of listening to the AC when the chickens start shouting outside i give up, pull out the netbook and start the blog.

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