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Published: April 15th 2008
We're extremely tired, Maya more as I at least managed to get an hour's sleep at Singapore Changi airport whilst waiting for our connection to Bangkok. The flight passes without incident, and its yet another glowing experience with Singapore Airlines who we haven't been able to fault for any reason so far.
Some of the other passengers, however, are rather more strange that we're used to. Enormous bearded Englishmen, often with beer guts that protrude like badly-smuggled basketballs from their inadequate T-shirts, leer openly and lecherously at the pretty Singaporean air stewardesses over their plastic-wrapped breakfasts. They are all travelling alone. Are these the famous 'sex tourists' who come to Thailand to prey on pretty young Thai girls? One look at a full rack of yellowing, cracked toenails jutting from a rotting flip-flop like cheesy bombed houses, or a scabby and hilariously mis-spelt 'Chlesea FC' tattoo, is enough to put us off our otherwise delicious (by airline standards) meal and resume our scrutiny from the window of the Gulf of Thailand. Soon Bangkok itself comes into view under the wingtip, and the cityscape is more modern and lavish than anything we've seen in the last five weeks (a night landing at Singapore excepted).
Once through the passport control, luggage reclaim and customs, we walk outside the air-conditioned main terminal and hit a wall of blazing, humid, tropical heat so solid I nearly stub my toe on it. Even the Pink City, Jaipur in the desert state of Rajasthan in India, can't compete with this! We gasp and think ourselves lucky we have a trolley for the backpacks. It's approaching 40 degrees... centigrade...
Immediately, we are accosted by taxi touts. I get a quote to travel to our hotel and it's 800 baht. I argue with the guy but it's pointless. We've come to Bangkok armed with two pieces of valuable information - firstly, a taxi to our hotel should cost no more than 300 baht. And secondly, on NO ACCOUNT should you take one of the private mini cabs who try to hawk you outside the main gate. Ignore them, refuse them, push them out of the way if you have to, but come out and turn left along the road. Not too far up you'll see a rank of official, government-licenced taxis (recognisable by their yellow numberplates as opposed to the white or black of usual traffic - or hooky cabs) where you give the clerk your destination and a taxi driver comes from the queue to take you to your car. With no hassle we're loaded up, with the meter switched on, and heading for our hotel in Huay Khwang.
Out on the roads, the first thing we notice is cash. Lots of it. Instead of seeing clapped-out old bangers, endless 125cc motorcycles and assorted farm wildlife in various stages of suffering, we are passed by nearly-new Japanese 4x4s and pickup trucks, sports cars and large sports bikes. I never thought I'd be so happy to see a Ducati. Enormous digital Coca-Cola adverts loom from city blocks, and the highway is a ten lane tarmac-toasted terrestrial treat. I've never been there, but it reminds me of the USA, and Maya (who has been there) agrees. Exotic, artificially-planted palms climb into the deep blue sky, their natural hues all the more vivid against the grey concrete backdrop.
Before too long we're at our hotel, on the top floor of a small apartment block, and pay the driver 240 baht - precisely what showed on the meter - plus a 60 baht tip for driving an honest cab. Remember what we told you up there, kids, if you ever fly into Bangkok and need a taxi... Our hotel's basic and run by a young guy who speaks no English... but we get along okay, pay for two nights in advance and are led to our room. Outside one of the other rooms, a pretty young Thai girl sits in the sunshine drawing circles in the dirt with her toes - a couple of feet away is her wonderfully quaint English boyfriend/partner/client, who is wearing a Millwall T-shirt and screaming into a mobile "Issnot dat, geez, izzit? I dahn't care abaht the fahckin munnee!" Hmm. A vision of a tranquil rainforest glade flashes before my eyes and for a second I wish I was back among the people and animals of Nepal.
Once established in our rather risque room, complete with an extraordinary amount of mirrors that even the most vain of people couldn't hope to make good use of, we stay there. By the time it gets dark we haven't slept in over 36hrs and we're a bit cranky. Deciding that we are probably beseiged by yabba-munching pimps with chainsaws and that it's best to keep the door locked and TV on loud, we stay in and doze. Later, I awake to find Maya's gone out for a drink. She returns with iced tea and bodily throws me out of bed. I reluctantly get up and we decide to go in search of a decent meal despite the fact that darkness has fallen, although the temperature hasn't and within seconds of leaving the air con room, I'm literally dripping in sweat. It pours off my nose, my ears and my chin, my T-shirt is soaked and my spray-on Lynx deodorant is woefully inadequate for coping with this kind of perspiration.
There are no yabba fiends to be seen, although out on the main road there are many massage parlours and the like, with scantily-clad girls sitting at the front entrances soliciting loudly and proudly for business. We keep walking, looking for a restaurant or something. We find many, but all are seafood and none even have a veggie option on the menu, except for plain rice. Mmm. On the highway, I see some really rather interesting examples of modified machinery - high-performance Japanese sports cars are souped up, heavily tuned and blaze along Bangkok's roads in a thrilling roar of exhaust notes and slick graphics before disappearing into the metropolis trailing a baleful luminous prism of coloured lights from the neon underglow tubes. Even the scooters are tweaked. If you enjoyed that Fast And The Furious film, you'd love Bangkok.
Eventually we find a small, friendly diner where the staff take pity on us and, after we've explained in broken Thai (read straight from the guidebook) and clumsy sign language that we are vegetarian, they rustle us up a superb combination of vegetables, egg, fresh chilli and soup, fried and served right in front of our eyes. And it's delicious. Thus sated, we return to the room, dodging taxi bikes, boy racers and gaping chasms in the pavement (Bangkok's sidewalks are notoriously poor and have caused the unwary many a sprained ankle) and eventually we crash out to the sounds of some dire 1980s American movie playing on HBO...
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kate
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SWEATY BETTY! hahaha
Hoooray! Glad u both still coooool! We're having a party in late June and you guys will be missed! Will deffo have one for you guys when u get back! xxx Give a giant kiss to Mooey for me