Thailand « Seoulamente Briana

My dear friend Molly works at a hagwon. For the uninitiated that is a private school that students attend in the afternoons and evenings. I work in a public school. We don’t often have the same vacation days. Hell, as a hagwon teacher Molly hardly ever has any vacation days. (Work in a public school in South Korea if you have the option.) But we both had time off for the Korean harvest festival Chuseok. Originally Molly wanted to visit Jeju Island, which is at the southern end of the Korean peninsula and touted as Korea’s Hawaii, a dubious claim in my opinion. I, a true cynic of what Korea has to offer in terms of tropical vacations, said that if I was going to go anywhere during Chuseok, I’d sure as hell make sure it was outside of this country. No offense, Korea. But you and I both know you aren’t a big draw for tourists, and it’s not as if you’re a diamond in the rough or up and coming. Nice place to work, though.

After a lot of fumbling around late in the game for plane tickets, we ended up with not inexpensive tickets to Bangkok. We were going to meet her friend Mandy there. Mandy works in Singapore. She’s the manager of a Chili’s in a resort area and, reportedly, making bank and living in a beautiful, culturally diverse, very expensive southeast Asian metropolis.

Chuseok is, if memory serves, the most important holiday in Korea. Koreans take to the streets, subways and planes. It’s the busiest travel time of the year? I think. Even if it’s ranked two or three, it’s darned busy and we were lucky to get the last remaining seats on the bus to the airport at 5 in the morning. I’ve often taken this bus at the same hour and there are usually only a handful of passengers on.

Molly, bless her heart, didn’t sleep a wink the night before. She also posses the uncanny (or at least, for me, unfamiliar) ability to fall asleep in any moving vehicle. Taxi, bus, plane. Our flight left early in the morning. We had a brief layover in Guangzhou China, the least capable international airport I’ve ever been to. If you can, do not have a stop over there. Hong Kong is much preferable. We arrived in Bangkok’s sparkling new airport, which was uncharacteristically not taken over by protesters (I jest), at six in the evening. I’d had big plans. We were going to drop our bags off at our hotel near the airport, then grab a taxi to any decent place in Bangkok for street food and gawking. But both of us were exhausted. We were so tired we felt as if we both had a fever.

Our hotel was decent, though nothing to brag about. The food was great though. Before ordering Molly realized that she had forgotten her camera on the plane. To her credit she was only ticked off for five minutes at the most, though she lost her appetite when it came time to order. But it was restored when my plate of large flat noodles and veggies came and she was able to ooh and awe over how delicious Thai food in Thailand was. Also two for one mai thais.

We expected Mandy by ten thirty or eleven. Across a small river in front of our hotel was a glittering temple. We tried to kill some time by crossing this small bridge over to the temple but a stray dog slept in the middle and first unnerved Molly and then that unnerved me. One of the hotel staff told us, in his limited English, not to go that way. He called it a dog temple. Sure enough we were sitting on our side of the river and saw around twelve stray dogs asleep on raised wooden platforms with traditional, red Thai roofs that we think belonged to the temple. Then some women, hotel staff whose shift was over, came and threw moldy bread into the river and a writhing mass of huge fish climbed over each other’s bodies to get to the bread. We showed Mandy when she arrived, but she didn’t appreciate it the same way I did. I believe she called it gross. This is what it looked like in the daylight:

Molly and Mandy are dear friends from back in the states. They stayed up talking over a few cheap Thai beers while I hit the hay. Molly was pretty much sleep deprived our entire trip.

At one in the afternoon on our first full day in country a hired car was going to pick us up at our Bangkok hotel and take us to Ban Phae and our, hopefully, seaside cabana. We took a cab into the heart of Bangkok in the morning. We were staying in the suburbs, still rife with the symptoms of poverty. Notably, in terms of poverty, there ware a lot of stray dogs whose friendliness we were in no way sure of having not even spent twenty four hours in the country.

Our cab dropped us off in front of Wat Phrae Kaew and the Royal Palace. While driving through the city our cabbie, predictably, tried to convince us that this, the most famous and holy site in Bangkok, if not in Thailand, wasn’t open yet. No doubt to take us to some market where he will earn a commission for bringing our foreign wallets. I was probably a little rude, as I learned in the Philippines that polite can get your ass in trouble. Wat Phrae Kaew is, in English, the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. Now, I’m starting to feel like I’ve seen it all. I know, how snotty, right? After seeing Vatican City and The Forbidden City, I’m a bit done traveling to see ancient holy places and palaces. But this was one spectacular temple! We had to dress appropriately. No shorts, miniskirts, or revealing shirts. If you don’t come prepared they will loan you the appropriate clothes. It was crowded but not uncomfortably so. The buildings at this temple were remarkably close together. It was hot. It was beautiful. The detail on each temple was amazing. All made of glittering things and porcelain, I think.

The entrance and exit, one in the same, from Wat Phrae Kaew was overrun with locals hocking tourist junk at very steep prices. They’re relentless and overwhelming to a traveller who is unfamiliar with this kind of thing. If Molly was a cartoon character a vein in her temple would have been throbbing.

We picked up a taxi that tried to get us to agree to go to some market, and we did, but because we thought he was asking to stop to get gas. He kicked us out and our next driver spoke a lot of English and was very friendly and honest. The Thai people were so friendly! Delightful. He told us that he was a lucky man. He was seventy-six and said his youngest child was ten. I guess you would call him an active older gentleman. (Apparently the Brits of a different era really disliked how Americans used the term gentleman for anyone who is honest and kind.)

Sitting outside of our hotel with our bags repacked, we gobbled up a few more delicious Thai dishes and cheap, cold Thai beers before our driver came. Oh yes, our driver dahling, don’t you know. I think he was not terribly literate because when we reached Ban Phae I spotted the signs (both in Thai and in English) for our cabana before he did.

Oh, our cabana! We had two rooms in the same cabana. We were booked for a mid-range garden view, but there weren’t any other guests and they bumped us up to the seaside. Mandy, always on the case, quickly ordered us some Singhas and a bucket of ice which they brought to our porch. We all loved our indoor/outdoor bathrooms. Sitting on the john as a giant tropical butterfly lands on the magenta flowers climbing over the wall, topped off with tropical bird song issuing from palm trees is indeed the best bathroom one can get. And shower too.

I said our cabana was seaside, which is a little false. It was gulf side. The water wasn’t that brilliant turquoise hue of postcards. A small river entered near our resort and turned a strip of water a sandy color. We spent a few hours luxuriating on our porch in our beach wear with our beautiful view. (I’m trying to find a picture of it, but iPhoto has lost – lost? – many of the photos I’ve downloaded. They were there! Oh the heartache.) Then we went on a walk along the narrow beach as dusk turned into night. From the shore two street dogs bounded toward us and scared the hell out of me. They were sweet though. They just ran around with us and chased small ghost crabs into the surf. I found a dead puffer fish on the shore. I had the idea that our walk would end when we reached some other resorts that I saw further down the beach, but we didn’t get that far because out of the dark, treed roadside near the beach a pack of street dogs bared down on us, barking. Our dogs placed themselves in front of Mandy and I and barked at the new dogs. Molly started running toward the surf and so did I. I was scared and I didn’t realize at first that our stray pooches were protecting us. My ass just didn’t want to be between brawling street dogs. We quickly turned around and our dogs followed us back to the resort where they were thrown our scraps of meat after dinner because they were good, good dogs.

The next day our hired boatman came to shore in front of our resort and took us to Koh Samet, an island we could see from our porch. Our dog friends followed us into the water, doggy paddled after us with their tails wagging and tongues hanging out. What a sweet, heartbreaking sight. If I lived in Thailand as an eccentric expat, I would have an army of adopted street dogs, oh my God I would. It would be a problem.

First our boatman took us to a fishery not far from shore. There were all kinds of big fish, even a sea turtle and a shark in the same enclosure. To walk around the fishery one had to walk on narrow, feeble wooden planks. One misstep would send one into the water and the nets with the sea creatures. Needless to say my darenot devil attitude kept me on the planks closest to the boat so I could hang on to it while Molly and Mandy carefully walked around. I could see the seaturtle decently from my safety perch.

Then he took us to a beach on Koh Samet. We paid a pittance to sit in chairs under umbrellas, bought fruit from the licensed vendors and would take dips in the calm, turquoise waters. It was beautiful, I was delighted. But if anyone can find fault with being on a tropical beach, I can. The waters were as calm as a pool. I’m from North Carolina where, when one goes to the beach, one plays in the waves. No waves make water much less interesting.

But Koh Samet was certainly a postcard. Turquoise waters, white sands and plentiful palms. After a few dips in the water we opted to take a banana boat ride. A banana boat is a inflatable, plastic thing shaped like a hot dog that holds five and is pulled by a little motor boat. To stay on top of the hot dog you have to grip it with your legs and hold onto a cloth handle. The first time we capsized, which I gather is the whole point of renting one, Molly took a smack to the schnoz and got a bit of a bloody nose. After that we were adamant that we didn’t want the driver not intentionally dunk us. At first I was content looking at the island on the little jaunt but then it got boring and I wished that we could get thrown around more. Then my cloth handle broke. It was meh. I would have preferred the more expensive and much briefer parasailing, a thing I’ve never done.

Later Mandy read on the beach and Molly and I went in search of food but were naturally waylaid by shopping for beachwear. The village was so adorable.

Fisherman walking in the village of Koh Samet

That night, back at our still empty resort, there was much feasting on Thai food and panicking about how much cash we had for the remainder of our trip. Mandy was leaving a little earlier than us, so we had to pay for our ride back to Bangkok and another hotel. I alone was burnt to a crisp. Curse my caucasian skin! Molly and Mandy are both white too, but their skin fared much better than mine. It’s a month later now, and my legs are still peeling.

Our hotel in Bangkok was in the middle of all of the action. After Mandy left I said to the front desk, “Send me a chariot and take me to the best spots” so of course they sent us around a free tuk-tuk (a small jalopy that would look more at home carrying argicultural goods than people) and whisked us away to a night market, the name of which I wasn’t told at the time so have a very good excuse for not recalling. We browsed and bargained. Molly was terrible at bargaining. I read in the guidebook to smile and be friendly, which worked. Molly scowled and looked incredulous. Did I mention the Thai people were very friendly? Even bargaining with them was delightful. (As a tourist I know it’s my job to pay a lot for goods other people don’t. I don’t mind being scammed, just not seriously scammed.) I went to look at some purses I was jonsing for and Molly went back to purchase some clothing and then she got lost. I was worried for a few minutes but she came back. There was a bit of beer, but just a bit because we were worried about cash.

The next day we went on a tour of a floating market. It was an hour or two outside of Bangkok. Very touristy, but oh so photogenic. I fed and elephant and went camera crazy.

After the floating market we, exhausted, ate some more at a restaurant recommend by our hotel and freaked out about the prices. Then we left Thailand. Leaving and the stories from it may actually be worth telling, but telling is getting old. Here are some more photos from the trip that I like.