Monday, 08/10/2012 – 116 A.D.
Monday, Monday! I felt guilty for getting the bottom bunk on the sleeper train once again, but let’s face it, the bottom bunks are wider and I’m…errr…probably slimmer than Tim! Oh well, I’ll make it up to him. Somehow. We kept our voices as quiet as we could when sorting out our beds, because the bottom bunk across from us was occupied, we had no idea by whom, just saw a dainty pair of leopard skin flat shoes sitting beneath the closed curtain. And after watching an episode of season 5 of Breaking Bad which I’d earlier downloaded, I used the facilities and went to sleep. You do know that the facilities are a hole in the floor, don’t you? It’s possible to see the track below you as you give it a sprinkling, but enough about that…
…I slept much better than my first time on the sleeper! Only took me one session to get used to it. This time we were at the far end of the carriage, away from the banging door and the smokers. Thai trains allocate an official chappy to look after each sleeper and he takes great joy in announcing each station we come to at the top of his voice. Sometimes I sleep through it, sometimes I just think, “Git!” By 10.20 – original arrival time in Bangkok – Tim, Duncan and I have folded up our beds and are sitting down to await the sight of the capital city. It’s nearly another three hours before we arrive. Maybe bus would have been better after all?
At Bangkok’s main station (Hua Lamphong) we say goodbye to Duncan and catch the MRT train line for two stops, then the BST line for three. Then it’s a ten minute walk with backpacks on through the streets to our hotel. Bangkok is a seething cauldron of movement and fumes, but we don’t mind because the CNR House Hotel is a good `un, maybe not centrally-located, but it’s got everything we need. And you can’t go wrong for a tenner a night. They even provide you with a complimentary pair of slippers, i.e. flip-flops, i.e. thongs. Call me picky, but I’ll stick to my own, thanks, though I appreciate the gesture.
Bangkok is big-big-big and just begging to be explored, but the late arrival of our locomotive has really scuppered our plans. It’s too late in the day to visit any of the embassies on our list and I’ve been living on snack food for too long and I need that warm, fuzzy feeling you get when you put proper food into your belly. We stall operations for the rest of the afternoon and just flake out, once I’ve been to the nearby 7-11 for a pot noodle. Bear in mind, that the pot noodles over here are actually pretty damn tasty, though unless tackled without a beer on standby they occasionally taste hotter than the sun.
It was a quiet first night in Bangkok, mainly because the rain fell hard every fifteen minutes and we didn’t fancy crawling the streets looking supercool in our cagoules.
Tuesday, 09/10/2012 – 117 A.D.
We walk down what we believe to be Khao San Road, but it turns into a street full of market traders selling their wares. I spot a t-shirt-cum-shirt that I like – it’s the first one in medium as most are XL and XXL. I want it, but I can’t show the guy how much. It’s priced at 250 baht, but I give it the beer-powered-smiles and go in at 150. The guy goes labouriously down through 240, 230, 220, 210, etc. He has a M*n Un*ted shirt on and there is confusion when Tim applauds him for wearing it and I playfully lambast him. The guy stays friendly and I lean in and whisper in his ear that I will give him 150 because I don’t want his friends to hear that he is doing such a low price. He laughs, but sticks at 200 baht and I go away to think about it. Meantime Tim gets a few good deals on some trinkets to take back to the Old Country and after all that haggling we need another drink, so we park ourselves by some premier league football highlights. Just before 22:00 I nip back to get the shirt for 200 baht. M*n U guy isn’t there, but his minion is aware of me and the 200 baht price, even though he knocks it back up to 250. He must have been told what a tough cookie I am for negotiations because he doesn’t once make eye contact during the sale.
“Which team are you guys following?”
It was a quiet first night in Bangkok, mainly because the rain fell hard every fifteen minutes and we didn’t fancy crawling the streets looking supercool in our cagoules.
Tuesday, 09/10/2012 – 117 A.D.
We ate breakfast in a big room on the second floor of the hotel. There was only us and a woman happy to cook our toast, but nothing else. Was it specialised equipment that she did not trust us with? The place had an eerie feel to it – you could imagine the manager gathering all the staff together and telling them the hotel is losing money and they have to buck their ideas up. And no free toast for them. In fact, we realised that evening that we had yet to see another guest in the entire hotel. Why?
One reason may be the location, which is quite far across town from all of the main touristy stuff. However, that would all have to wait because today was visa day. We took the BTS line (skytrain) a few stops, then the MRT line (underground) all the way to where the map said the Chinese embassy was. At this point we just wanted a bit of information for when our time for applying came, because the website was about as useful as pair of sunglasses on a bloke with one ear. The embassy was down a side street and difficult to find, though it was easy enough once we saw the constant stream of people. Chaos reigned, as if the Japanese were about to invade and people were seeking sanctuary inside. The door supervisor wasn’t letting anyone in without a number, but you needed to go inside to get a number. When Tim tried to quiz him in his politest English tones, the guy just ignored him. Already feeling burnt alive in the heat, we thought we’d leave the chaos and give the website another go.
We had to take the MRT another two stops for the Indian embassy, where we again just wanted a bit of helpful across-the-counter advice. By the time we got to the right area it was gone 11.30, which is when they all close, so we had a bit of a wait until 13.30. We ate lunch in a food court and for some reason I ordered a crab calzone, which left me picking out the onions and tomatoes that I should have realised come as standard. When we got to the Indian embassy we were dismayed to find that they had outsourced all visa applications to a private company! Again, we’d have to go back to the website. By now the rain was coming down hard, a real contrast from earlier and I wasn’t sure if I was wet from sweat or rainwater!
We got yet another train to where the Vietnamese embassy was located. Fortunately we scored a success here (1 out of 3 ain’t bad!) and were able to submit our visa applications with very little fuss, despite the guy behind the desk not being able to understand my slowest, clearest English. He also tried to get us to go for the more expensive express rate, but because Vietnam is the dearest visa we’re getting, we were happy to collect them in five working days. That said, it feels very strange walking around without my passport close at hand. We have laminated photocopies just in case, but hopefully not having the original documents won’t lead to any trouble down the line.
[Pritstick helpfully provided by the embassy.]
After returning to the hotel to take it easy and dry out, we donned our glad rags, had an aperitif and prepared to boogie the night away. Bangkok has something of a reputation for wild nightlife and it’s been a while since we went out and had a proper session. Now we can finally afford it and we want to experience just what Thailand has to offer after dark! Don’t worry – we’re both big boys and neither of us is a deviant, so it was never going to be quite that debauched! But we kept those tunes playing for a while before heading out.
The main drag where people go out is Khao San Road, once again some way across town. We want to get a tuk-tuk, but the guy on the front desk suggests a taxi will be cheaper and he phones one for us. The taxi driver asks if we want to take the highway, which sounds like it will get us there quicker, so we say okay. What he doesn’t tell us is that it’s a toll road and we have to pay the toll of 45 baht. Oh well, at least we get there in a reasonable amount of time. The driver drops us at the bottom of what he says is Khao San Road. It doesn’t look like much. Unfortunately we see someone about to defecate on the pavement, so we hurry past. There are lots of westerners and tonnes of eateries, but no crazy nightlife. We sit down at a restaurant called My Darling (???). The menu has too much choice, if such a thing exists, the place is like a production line, but the food comes within minutes. It’s okay, nothing to write home about…ooops, I just did!
We walk down what we believe to be Khao San Road, but it turns into a street full of market traders selling their wares. I spot a t-shirt-cum-shirt that I like – it’s the first one in medium as most are XL and XXL. I want it, but I can’t show the guy how much. It’s priced at 250 baht, but I give it the beer-powered-smiles and go in at 150. The guy goes labouriously down through 240, 230, 220, 210, etc. He has a M*n Un*ted shirt on and there is confusion when Tim applauds him for wearing it and I playfully lambast him. The guy stays friendly and I lean in and whisper in his ear that I will give him 150 because I don’t want his friends to hear that he is doing such a low price. He laughs, but sticks at 200 baht and I go away to think about it. Meantime Tim gets a few good deals on some trinkets to take back to the Old Country and after all that haggling we need another drink, so we park ourselves by some premier league football highlights. Just before 22:00 I nip back to get the shirt for 200 baht. M*n U guy isn’t there, but his minion is aware of me and the 200 baht price, even though he knocks it back up to 250. He must have been told what a tough cookie I am for negotiations because he doesn’t once make eye contact during the sale.
Back at the bar, a couple of street vendors come to the table. I buy a trinket from them – the same that Tim just bought, but at a better price, much to Tim’s annoyance. I'm getting a bit too into this and 30 minutes later I buy a further trinket from a different seller. I tell myself not to buy anymore, especially once I'm tipsy. It also means we have to carry this stuff around with us all night. Then the course of our evening changed completely with the following line…
“Which team are you guys following?”
A young American lad has sat down at the next table and seen us watching the football soccer. He comes over to join us, bringing his big Singha beer with him. Sam is 22 and from Boston, Massachusetts. He has been studying at Denver, Colorado, and just graduated. And so he’s come to south east Asia to travel before he gets saddled with marriage, kids, career, etc. We go through the usual motions, e.g. where we’ve been, what we’ve got up to, how we cope with being in each other’s company SO DAMN MUCH. He says he is staying at a hostel near Khao Sin Road, the second place he’s been at, as the first one where he stayed for two nights was terrible. He says he walked down Khao Sin Road and describes it to us…doesn’t sound like the place we walked along. He says he’d be happy to show us, and that he is keen to see a ping pong show (because his mate Johnny from back home said he has to), but he doesn’t want to go on his own. Maybe it was fate that he met the Grayboys that night?
If you don't know what a ping pong show is (and gawd bless you if you don't), then I wouldn't advise you looking it up on wikipedia. In fact, if you're feeling somewhat sensitive today then you might want to give the rest of this blog post a miss! You have been warned. And if you do know what a ping pong show is, and you're happy to keep reading, let it be known that this is supposed to be an informative account and I don't want to get into the moral issues surrounding them. We all suffer from the when-in-Rome syndrome occasionally.
The real Khao Sin Road reminds me of Bourbon Street in New Orleans (remember that one???) You drink, you get merry, you get loud. We buy bottled beers from street vendors, even haggling over the odd 5 baht – it’s become a real art form now. When I get a round in, the guy runs off to get some change, then comes back and quietly asks if I want to see ladyboys like it's something I've wanted to see all of my life. Oh dear. As we strut through the throng of people, swigging on our Leo’s ale like kings, we are constantly hassled by tuk-tuk drivers promising to take us to a ping pong show. I’m not keen to leave the area, even though it’s a cesspool of indulgence and vice, but it soon becomes clear that none of these shows are located along Khao Sin Road. Surprise, surprise! Although the beer is starting to kick in, I realise I’m definitely going to have to keep my wits about me for this one, and while Tim and Sam haggle with the tuk-tuks for the best price, I stick out my shoulders to make me look big and put on the silent-psycho expression that I’ve been perfecting since we first arrived in Asia.
Some of the tuk-tuks promise us free drinks with our entry to the shows, others don’t bother, simply point to dirty little laminated cards that list the programme of events. If you want the full list, don't even bother going to jamesandtimsworldtouruncensored.blogspot.com because I haven't put it there! Some of the tuk-tuk drivers take our rejection in good humour, but others don’t like it when we say that so-and-so over there gave us better price. Maybe they don’t believe us? They shouldn’t, because most of the time were talking out of our backsides. One even tells us to eff-off, but quietly under his breath as we’re walking away, which only I hear.
Then it is into the back of the tuk-tuk and oh my gosh what a ride! Tearing through the Bangkok streets on a three-wheeled gas-powered trike! This guy brakes for no one and several times we comes close to scraping the bumpers of the traffic around us. Once the initial whooping dies down, I realise that the place we’re headed is not just down the road and it feels like we’ve been in the back of the tuk-tuk for ages. Alarm bells start ringing and I think of my multi-tool…all the way back on the bedside cabinet in the hotel room!
Eventually we pull up at a building down some dodgy side street where there is a mild amount of activity outside the entrance. Leo is keen to wait around for us and asks which hotel we’re at. I hold out the card that the reception guy gave me and Leo tries to take it from me. I tug back, claiming I need it to get home and he persists in his efforts to get the card. Turns out he only wants to put it under the headlight of his tuk-tuk so he can read the address clearly, but you can’t take anything for granted around here! Especially when we haven't a clue where we are , except that we are somewhere in the city of Bangkok, a city of 12 million people that covers 605 square miles. Nah, not a problem!
A guy comes out of the club-cum-apartment-block and gives the impression that he’s the one we pay to get in. He wants 450 baht from us each, not the 300 as agreed with Leo. I keep up the silent older chaperon routine as Tim and Sam refuse to give an inch and point to Leo, as if he’s some kind of verification tool. Knowing he’s dealing with the Grayboys and American-guy-they-met-two-hours-ago, the owner gives in to our original deal, under the condition that we don't tell any other customers of the price we got. Aren't we doing well? We go inside, promising not to take any photos. Nope, even I wasn't going to risk it in there.
We get inside and something is just finishing, not sure what, but unsurprisingly it looks decidedly dodgy. It’s your typical strip club set-up (not that I know – first time for me, honest!) with a small raised stage in the middle of the floor, poles on each corner, and several rows of chairs surrounding it. We would be sitting just in front of the bar, second row back from the front. The front rows were occupied by young western lads or old Chinese guys. Bizarrely, there were some couples there, in particular a middle-aged western couple who sat next to me - couldn't see his expression, but although she kept a straight face, I could tell that inside she was horrified. The free drinks provided were almost the equivalent of a thimble of beer. Stern-looking women with bright spotlights strutted up and down, looking to see if we’d finished our thimbles and wanted another (not at their prices, thank you!)
And then the show started. Hmmm…how to describe this one to you? I won't go into specifics. The format was pretty much one girl walks on stage, does her thing, gets applause, then leaves and another arrives, wipes the stage down, does her thing, then leaves to applause, and so on. Okay, so I was in Bangkok doing what you are supposed to do in Bangkok (if you’re of a certain persuasion, I might add!), but I have to say that the whole spectacle left a bit of a sour taste. Not literally, this is a metaphor. It was interesting to observe, and some of the feats were pretty outstanding, but the whole seediness of the situation got to me. Plus it was difficult to enjoy while I was constantly on my guard wondering if the girl who’d just sat down behind me and was looking at the ceiling was after my wallet, or worse, was on next! I think Sam enjoyed himself, but then again he’s a 22 year old lad who’s just graduated. He was glad that he didn’t have to drink the Coco-cola though…
After the grand finale (involved a member of both sexes (and not the third sex!)), the lights come on and it’s time to depart. Leo is waiting patiently outside and he wonders if we want to go back to the hotel. Thinking we should drop Sam off first (and the night is still young, sort of), we get Leo to take us back to Khao Sin Road. On the journey the rain comes down again, but really, really hard. The sides of the tuk-tuk are open and Tim and I on the ends get our shirt sleeves soaked. Leo drops us at Sam’s hostel, which isn’t bad at all. I ask Leo if he will wait while we have our nightcap, but he points to his watch and says that he clocks off at 2 a.m. Never mind, I’m sure we’ll find someone else!
[It's not a bag of drugs hanging from my belt, it's a white T-shirt.]
We have our last beers and chat about various Anglo-American stuff. In a reversal of normal procedure, Sam asks us if we have heard of Karl Pilkington, or someone along the lines of “Kyle Parkingson” – it’s late. By the time it’s gone 3, we know we need to head back, so we bid farewell to Sam, with the hope of possibly meeting up again in Vietnam. The side street the hostel is on has no through traffic and it’s still hoying down outside. I ask the woman if she can ring a taxi; can’t remember what she said, but got the cold shoulder. We were going to have to hail one on the pouring streets, so we legged it down the road, looking for shelter where we could find it. Tim was wearing his white plimsolls and I remember running up behind him and spotting him aquaplaning along the pavement, then going arse-over-tit, lying there prone in the puddles. He’d bumped his head and hurt his arm, but we couldn’t worry about that now. Instead I was busy haggling over a tuk-tuk that had come along, then drove off because he wasn’t taking 125 baht – why am I haggling over 50 pence when we just need to get home??? Tim then shouts me over, having agreed a 150 baht fare with a taxi that conveniently drove up to him. I don’t remember a great deal about the drive back, only that it took a long time and we drove through streets flooded with water that covered the wheels of the car.
Tim’s arm was still hurting when we went to bed…so was my head. If you'd thrown a ping pong ball at it, I probably wouldn't have felt it.
One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble.
ReplyDeleteDid you not get invited to see the cigarette show ?