Bangkok

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We all probably know that famous line from that famous, overplayed sequal about three drunks in Bangkok. After a few days there, I don’t really get it. Sure, it’s a big city, and an Asian one at that, with an obvious element to it, but, compared to any big city we’d visited in India, I thought it was fairly tame. In truth, I’d be much more nervous toddling around the deep southside of Chicago, where they have guns. Compared to that, Bangkok’s a walk in the park.



Having said that, we did encounter some slight problems upon our arrival in Bangkok, but it was no fault of Bangkok’s: our initial challenges were due to our brainless guidebook, published by Baedeker’s. I can say with the utmost conviction that it is the worst guidebook to have been published in the history of man. Yes, it has nice pictures, displayed on glossy paper that is oh so shiny and smooth to the touch. But – and I say this to you dimwits at Baedeker’s - I need information pertinent to me, not nicely displayed pictures. I’m amazed that, according to this book, a hotel with rooms beginning at $210 a night, and ending at $1500 per night, is midrange. If that’s the case, what is high-end? Out of my league, is what it is. Naturally, being an inferior text, the book didn’t even make the effort to provide the price range of the rooms for the hotels it recommended – throughout the guidebook, it was as if the writers did not visit the places they wrote about, only listed things that could be learned word of mouth from the town idiot, without any assisting detail. Thus, it was up to us to discover the exorbitant costs on our own, then embarrassingly walk out of the hotel. Moreover, it seemed it would be an overexertion to mention Khao San Road…again, they did not even mention this street…it’s where all the freaking tourists stay, for God’s sake! For comparison, the first line of the “Where to Stay in Bangkok" section of the Lonely Planet guidebook (don’t leave home without it) mentions Khao San Road; but, those are smart people writing a smart guidebook, and we shouldn’t expect the same level professionalism from everyone (I thought the Germans do everything better). We didn’t discover Khao San Road until a cab driver swindled us and dropped us there when our destination was really Soi Cowboy (more on that in a bit).



Not possessing the relevant information, and against our better judgment, we got into a hotel tout’s taxi and, following some of the usual negotiations and tourist traps, we ended up at a hotel near the Chao Phraya River. It was nice, but the following day they attempted to raise the price of the room on us. Insulted, we left the hotel and went to Chinatown and found a better room at a much better price, reminding us of a rule of thumb we’d forgotten in the confusion upon our arrival in Bangkok: when in doubt, go to Chinatown.



In between hotel changes, we visited the Grand Palace in the heart of Bangkok. Construction of the palace began in the late 18^th century and, when completed, was the residence of the Kings of Siam. The grounds consist of a large number of different buildings, halls, temples, courtyards, gardens, and working offices built principally in the traditional Thai style, but do encompass some other Buddhist styles, and organized into various architectural groups. The main structure is the Temple of the Emerald Buddha, or Wat Phra Kaew in Thai, which includes stupas in the Sri Lankan, Cambodian and Thai architectural influence. The main temple has earned the title of one of the most sacred Buddhist temples in Thailand as it houses the Emerald Buddha, a small, green statue of the Buddha, sitting in meditation posture, carved from a jade stone (“emerald” in Thai refers to the color rather than the stone). The statue is garbed in golden clothing of various styles that are dependent on the time of year. The statue’s history and legend goes back to 15^th century India, and can be traced to Cambodia and Loas, where it spent over 200 years, before being claimed by Buddhist monks in Thailand during the 18^th century. The Emerald Buddha is believed to be the most auspicious protector of Thailand.



Pictures of the statue were not allowed within the temple, but it could be glimpsed in its summer golden garb from the outside. It is a small statue, but, high above the floor, vibrantly glowed in the light, reflecting the opulent decorations of the altar that surrounded it. Impressed, I headed outside in the rain down the wet stairs and slipped, toppling down about four steps. A French woman ran to me in distress - “Ca va? Ca va?” she asked apprehensively.



“Ca va, merci,” I replied. Nice lady. With an ego more bruised than my buttocks, we continued our visit of the palace. At our visit’s conclusion, when I noticed my elbow was bleeding, I returned the long pants I was required to borrow from the palace’s office (this was the only site in all of Asia where I was not allowed to wear shorts while visiting) and we headed on another Bangkok temple tour.



We started at Wat Pho (not the Vietnamese soup I enjoy so much), or the Temple of the Reclining Buddha. The temple holds just under a 100 Buddha images, including a very large reclining Buddha covered in gold. The 15-foot feet of the statue bear nacre decorations.



The next day we crossed the river by taxi boat to the Temple of Dawn, or Wat Arun, an exquisitely ornate Khmer style tower with four smaller towers, of essentially the same shape and style, surrounding it. We carefully climbed the forebodingly steep stairs of the main tower in the hot sun to views of the river and the city that were well worth all the prior uneasiness. The tower is intricately decorated with glass and porcelain shaped into various oriental patterns. Walking the down the stairs caused a bit more anxiety, but we lived.



We finished off the day with Wat Saket atop the Golden Mountain. Unfortunately, as we made our way up the 300 steps leading to the temple, we discovered it was closing time and literally had the doors closed in our faces. All that work for nothing.



The final major temple we visited, and the most beautiful for me, was Wat Benchamabophit, or Marble Temple as all the walls of the temple are covered in marble imported from Italy. Situated near a calmly running stream with picturesque Chinese style bridges over it – like a scene from a bonsai tree’s stone base - the Marble Temple was built in 1900 and, as a magnificent example of Thai temple architecture, its visage is found on the back of the 5 Baht coin. We were serendipitously in time for a Buddhist ceremony, which, with the setting sun, instilled our visit with a peaceful serenity as the monks chanted while we walked the temple grounds. The golden trim of the roof gleamed above images of the Buddha; and we sat a while.



Although we were getting “watted out” at this point - and I was becoming giddy and replying with “Wat? Wat?” to everything Klaudia said – we had one more in us with which to end the day. Wat Indrawiban is famous for a 100-foot golden, standing Buddha statue. Yes, I agree it was enormous, but its pretentiousness was nothing compared to the sitting golden Buddha at the Cave Temple in Sri Lanka. Interestingly enough, many of the small Buddha statues placed around the temple were donated by Sri Lanka.



After all this religion, we felt it was time to inspect some of the debauchery Bangkok had on order. As I’d earlier hinted, we decided to take a cab to Soi Cowboy, which is named after an African American airman who wore a cowboy hat and who opened up on of the first bars in the area. However, we only made it there after a second cab because the first one swindled us and took us to Koh San Road, which is the backpacker area full of guesthouses and restaurants, and where we would have stayed had we possessed a competently written guidebook. Complaining about how we allowed this to occur, we tried to keep it positive while eating dinner (since we were already there) and comforted ourselves with the thought that, throughout our Asian adventure, this was the first time we’d allowed anyone to knowingly dupe us, except for that tuk-tuk that ripped us off in India, that tourist bus that ripped us off in Nepal, and that hostel that ripped us off in Sri Lanka. I’m sure it’s occurred to us unknowingly, but we’ll never know, so it obviously doesn’t bother us. After dinner, we found a tuk-tuk and, this time, were transported by an honest driver.



Needless to say, when we arrived, there was a large neon sign between two buildings announcing “Soi Cowboy” in glowing letters. We entered hesitantly: it’s a short street at about 1200 feet, with scantily-dressed Thai girls standing in front of the 40 or so bars making up the length of the street. We walked to the end, and back again, unsure of what to do next when a drunken, old Irishman called us over. He explained that he’d been visiting Soi Cowboy every weekend since he’d moved to Bangkok 25 years ago and he assured us that most of the places were harmless; that is, we could have a drink without worrying. I scanned the bars and saw nothing but old, big-bellied Japanese and European men walking off with nubile Thai girls – not quite the scene for a married man and his wife. We bid farewell to the Irishman, who appeared sufficiently healthy despite having visited a red light district every weekend for 25 years, and, once again, walked to the other end of the street. We had a drink at a bar with a surprising number of couples in it, although every male in the pair, including me, decided to sit with his back to all the carousing goings-on. At my end of the table, I occasionally spied an old Japanese or European walking off with another young girl.



We visited Patpong as well, which is, in the words of those Asian t-shirts, “same, same, but different”: it has a night market selling Thai trinkets and clothes in between red light district bars with their doors open, displaying girls – or boys as well now - in bikinis dancing on bar tops. I’ll forego too many pseudo-intellectual statements concerning human behavior in red light districts, but will state that watching dirty, drunk old men walk off with young Asian boys or girls was an unfortunate sight. So much of life simply comes down to survival.

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