When In Bangkok

Society tells us that one night in Bangkok makes the hard man humble. The 1980s one hit wonder may have arisen organically, but I bet the sweltering heat in Suvarnabhumi airport was the inspiration for his song.

I was eager to disembark from my 24-hour sojourn from Los Angeles. Pure relief from recycled air and chronic flight distress. Relief then, confusion? My brain snidely remarked:” how dare airport employees crank the thermostat to induce heatstroke” – before, I realized that uh, the burning feeling is the air in which I am now living and breathing.

The eat, pray, and love tour had begun.

First, I thanked high heaven I didn’t bring any jeans to Sukhumvit province, where most of my stay occurred. My first text home was “it’s 9:00am and I’m boiling alive.” However, I quickly figured out how to avoid the worst of the heat. The first day, I explored the monolithic indoor malls, the parks, and “sois” or streets in Bangkok.

MRT is the Bangkok subway system, its utilitarianism whisking me to Wat Pho and Wat Arun temples outside the city center. The 17th century complexes were well worth the bargain $5 admission. Towering spires, Buddhist shrines, and lush gardens. The highlight? A visit to the reclining Buddha; its giant golden eyes staring down at incredulous patrons. Three adult women burst into tears at its incomprehensible magnitude.

After a couple nights in a hotel to get used to the city, I arrived at my first hostel, and adjusted to life on the road. Ensuring my belongings were always accounted for. Figuring out transportation and meals for the day. Organization helped calm my nerves.

I spent most of my time alone, punctuated by seemingly random exceptions. A jovial mate from Switzerland who trained in Thai boxing, his attitude as upbeat as his feet on the mat. A French man who mused “Ah, freedom, the road, no rules, no one to listen to.” The friendly Dutch gentleman whom I helped to navigate the city.

One night, I visited Bangkok’s Chinatown. Tourists were out munching on street food, while getting their feet munched by tiny fish. The colorful neon facades shined. My dinner consisted of deep-fried zucchini and pork gyoza from a street vendor. It was $5 for a full meal. Pretty good.

Bangkok is known for its underbelly of sin. Debauchery comes at a discount for foreigners. In my mind’s eye, I imagined Bangkok would reveal how the near-east experience differs from my reality. So the normality was surprising; domestic lives, unspoken rules of the street, social etiquette, food service, shopping, public transportation. While copious differences were present, there was an order to the world that translated from back home. I wondered how the rest of Southeast Asia compared – fully acknowledging that I’d chosen a well-worn backpackers’ route.

Khao San Road is where the belligerent tourists gather. A mile long introvert’s hell – music at unbearable decibels, swarming hands grasping for your money. Far from the debauchery, my last night in a Bangkok hotel was a welcome respite from dorm living – a brief creature comfort before visiting the island of Koh Toa.