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Published: December 9th 2007
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Fight night
Two Muy Thai boxing combatants at it Like most backpackers in South East Asia, my first experiences of the region came courtesy of the Khao San Road area of Bangkok. After missing catching up with Greg and Gem (the English couple I met in Mendoza barely a week into my travels) by a day when I flew out of London, I was looking forward to our scheduled meeting at the New Siam Guesthouse. I was only about seven hours late having not accounted for either the mile long queues which trickled through immigration at the airport, or the chaos that is Bangkok traffic. Further delays came when I got to Khao San Road and began asking around for directions to the New Siam Guesthouse, only to be asked in return whether I meant New Siam No. 1, 2, or 3. I took a punt and found the right place but didn't see Greg and Gem until the following morning as they had grown tired of waiting and retired to bed.
Bangkok is something of a halfway house between West and East, and a good place for the uninitiated traveller to the region to acclimatise. It would also be a great place to start out one's travels with
A packed house... almost
Celebs, gangsters and models in the ringside seats... or so I assume an empty backpack, as anything and everything one could need can be bought for next to nothing in the markets and stalls around Khao San. The prices were one of the first differences I noticed vis-a-vis Europe. Though I was wholly expecting my daily budget to drop significantly, I was still nonetheless pleasantly surprised to enjoy a meal consisting of Pad Thai noodles to start, followed up by a green chicken curry with rice (both very tasty) for less than two Aussie dollars. I thought it prudent to start eating from the street stalls right away to begin the process of conditioning my stomach and intestines to some long, hard months ahead.
Greg, Gem and I were all keen to head into Cambodia sooner rather than later, so I ended up only spending three days in the city. Most of that time was spent recovering from the jetlag (particularly severe this time thanks to the marvellous inflight entertainment offered by Qantas these days), and dealing with various administrative tasks such as shipping home any item of clothing in my pack with long legs and long sleeves, and exercising my democratic right at the Australian Embassy. In hindsight (time of writing is two weeks after the Ruddslide) the three hours I spent travelling to and fro the Embassy was probably only worth it for the symbolic value, as it wouldn't seem my vote had too much bearing on the result either way.
The only touristy thing I did before leaving Bangkok (hence the dearth of photos) was to head to the Muy Thai kick-boxing with Greg. I had heard about the sport before but never actually seen it. Though the overall experience was good, Greg and I were both hoping to see a few more haymakers thrown and landed. The Thai people are generally quite small, but I was nevertheless surprised to see on the program that the heaviest fighter we saw all night weighed in at just 63kgs, only 75% of my own weight. Like the lighter weight classes in boxing, speed, technique and concentration seemed to be of far greater importance than power. In nine fights we didn't see any knockouts, and I got the feeling that they would be few and far between. The most exciting aspect was actually the crowd. Strangely, it seemed to both Greg and I that rather than being brought to their feet and voices when the fighting intensified, it actually worked the other way around. Usually around halfway through the fourth round (of five) the crowd would become rowdy and then soon after the fighters would respond by upping the tempo. I may have read it completely wrong but it seemed a rather unique sport in that respect.
We left early the following day to head to the Cambodian border. Although I didn't give the markets much of a working over this time around I will no doubt be engaging in a bit of sport bargaining (the locals seem to enjoy it more than the tourists and quote ridiculous opening prices to dangle the bait) and filling up my pack with all sorts of haute couture and designer labels before I fly out. The bloke with three teeth missing, wearing ripped jeans and a mangy looking mo while selling his designer wares from the back of a ramshackle wooden cart assured me that all of his stock was 100% genuine. I am a discerning consumer who didn't come down in the last shower and I am inclined to believe him. He seemed a very honest, scrupulous, no-nonsense type after all.
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