"Zip up your bag babe, because otherwise you will become a drug mule and the people at the Thai airport have zero tolerance. And big guns."
This was the preemptive advice given to me by my husband as we were leaving the New Delhi airport to fly into Thailand. Moozh flew into the Bangkok airport back in 2000 on his way to Cambodia. Back then it had been a compound-like block replete with militia and cavity searches for smuggled goods. Brokedown Palace, for real.
Needless to say, I could have been described as jittery as we descended onto the tarmac. And then, lit up in night light, I saw the glittery, polished window panes of Suvarnabhumi. I looked at Moozh. I probably made a sarcastic remark about how scary it looked. Moozh, on the other hand, his mouth just hung open. As it turns out, in the ensuing decade, Bangkok built an ENTIRELY new airport. The original airport, the one Moozh remembered, Don Muang, is now used for discount and domestic flights, although even it looked like a cleaned up, Westernized version of its former self.
At risk of sounding like the opening monologue to The Beach, I'll refrain from expounding upon all of the things that make Bangkok infamous and magnetic. I'll tell you about Chinatown and walking past icy styrofoam bins of shark fins. I'll tell you about getting more pad thai and spring roll than I could finish and handing over a $1.25 for it. I'll tell you about walking past an artillery range where you could shoot an AK-47 by yourself a block south of the Grand Palace.
Our time in Bangkok was spent mostly walking and eating, walking and eating. The directions our hotel provided were atrocious and we were lost for easily forty-five minutes only to find that our hotel had been quite literally right across the street from the train station. Goes to show our observance. But we got a first hand view of Bangkok's notorious traffic congestion. That's a plus side, I guess. We were rolling into Thailand at the tail end of their rainy season. Climate change being what it is, the term "rainy season" is something less iron clad than previously believed but even some travel forums went as far to say that October was the wettest month of the rainy season. Off the airport link, our goose chase towards our hotel smack dab in the middle of a monsoon, we were beginning to wonder if our desires for Thailand were going to be planted firmly behind a rain cloud. We sloppily slid in to the Unico Premier MetroLink, a merciful oasis of A/C and polished marble tile. We ate pad thai, a dish which is best served from a styrofoam clamshell, off of plates with a fork and knife with white napkins. We showered and relished our first Thai beer which, even at mini bar prices, was not quite two dollars.
We woke up to rain, not so much a monsoon as a veneer of hazy mist. After planning out what we wanted to see, the rain had subsided. We packed our rain coats and slipped into some of the freakishly comfortable pants we had bought in Nepal. Big mistake. The rain clouds that hovered above were quickly obliterated by the high sun of midday. My sweat was so cohesive it scrubbed the paint of my beaded bracelet off, the purple pigment of which remained on my arm for another day and a half. When you pay less than a dollar for something, you really expect better quality. Our first day, we figured we would wander the river and canals that Bangkok is so famous for. The name "bangkok", though the true origin is undecided, one theory holds that it came from Bang Ko, bang meaning "village situated on a stream" and ko meaning "island". The riverside would take us through the flower market and along the fringe of Chinatown.
Little India, littered with hanging flower garlands and puffy, freshly fried pappadum balloons, bleeds into the Pak Klong Talad flower market, the largest flower market in Bangkok. Behind the floral lines is a warehouse of fresh Thai produce, kafir lime, pineapples, unripe papaya, basins of bird's eye chilies and buckets of galangal and turmeric. Crossing the Memorial Bridge, the Chao Phraya river below opaque with silt, Bangkok becomes somewhat subdued, suburban even. We turn down a canal, lined with longtail boats, the knifelike, wingtip eaves of wats in the distance serving as a perimeter. Following that canal would have taken us to the Taling Chan floating markets, one of the preserved markets of the "old days" where Som Tam, fresh fish and handicrafts are sold boat side. But we found ourselves caught up wandering through the neighborhoods along the river; seeing young boys get their first taste of Muay Thai at a makeshift gym set up under a bridge; seeing grandmas play with their grandchildren while their laundry dries on the line; monks, swathed in orange, dozing in the shade of a Wat.
There is considerable forum chatter when it comes to the best food markets in Bangkok. Type in "best cheap eats in Bangkok" and you will have a market in each fraction of the city to serve you. We were told to look for hospitals, universities or major transit stations. Find one of those and there will be good food nearby. This logic held true and had we had more time in Bangkok we may have had to use it. But we had a market for each meal as it was. Our first foray into the Bangkok food scene was Lumpini Market. Nestled on the outskirts of Lumpini Park, the food market hosts a dozen or more food stalls serving up everything from pad thai and boba to hot pot and BBQ all under what still appears to be a blue tarp. We passed numerous food markets on our way, all conveniently located outside LRT stations but Lumpini market held ferociously spicy, steaming bowls of hot pot with freaky seafood bobbing around with rice noodles. Meal fit for a king, for what felt like free of charge.
I had never seen anything like Bangkok's Chinatown at night. As soon as the sun dips below the West Bank of the Chao Phraya, Chinatown lights up in neon from curb to rooftop. Not a necessarily quiet neighborhood during the day, the soi markets selling everything from pig ears to Angry Bird flip flops are packed, but what draws people into Chinatown and brings them back again and again is the nightlife. Blinking billboards advertise shark fin and bird's nest soups. The burnt sugar smell of roasting chestnuts and fragrant pork broth fill the air. Pedestrians and the plastic chairs of food carts spill onto Yaowarat Road, a road still bustling with mad scooter traffic and large tour buses. Everywhere you look you see either something you want to eat or something that you have no idea what it is or what it's used for.
Shopping is said to be the national pastime of Thailand. Chatuchak Weekend Market is worthy support to this argument. The market covers a monstrous 27 acres filled with 15,000 booths. It is only open Saturday and Sunday but receives 200,000 visitors each day, only 30% of which are foreign. That is a considerable amount of repeat business. I'm not a clothes horse and I don't even really enjoy shopping that much and I was swallowed by the market for easily three hours. Seemingly endless, the market hosts everything from housewares, vintage Asian decor, lawn furniture, food, and clothing, all with a healthy amount of knock-off mixed in. No market in Thailand is complete without food stalls practically on top of each other. From the time we walked in to the time we left, I don't think I stopped eating. Handmade pork sausage served on a plastic bag with pickled ginger and minced chilies. Quart sized cups cha yen, tea bolstered by ice and sweetened condensed milk. Cubes of ice cream served on a skewer in a paper cone. After I decided on durian ice cream, Moozh made me promise not to kiss him because my breath was going to smell like stinky shoes.
From Chatuchak we were headed to the Victory Monument. The monument itself is not that exciting. Erected to commemorate Thai victory in a land dispute battle between the Thai and the French, the actual monument itself is secondary in importance to the hustle and bustle of the area. The Victory Monument is known for its nightlife, markets, restaurants and as a general transit hub into Bangkok for all major modes of public transport. Two massive plates of pad thai and an impromptu bowl of Tom Yum -which caught our eye when we saw a bowl wander by to another table- and we headed back out to in the direction of home.
Surprisingly we didn't hit the backpackers haven of Khao San Road until our last day. Sitting on a curb eating Pad thai and spring rolls which for Moozh and I didn't even come to three dollars, I asked myself why it had taken us so long. I glanced over to the stall beside me and realized I even could have gotten my degree from the University of Liverpool for ten bucks. Khao San Road was a holy grail. When we got caught in a downpour as we strolled the market, we sat and had beers which we could pay for with small change.We saw Wat Suthat and the Giant Swing. We sloshed through seemingly bottomless puddles and walked past shops selling six-foot golden Buddha statues, some seated, some standing, some pre-wrapped in cushioned wrap for easy transport. We wandered around the perimeter of the Grand Palace but somehow missed Wat Po and the Reclining Buddha. We bought moon cakes filled with watermelon seeds and lotus paste for the Mid-Autumn festival of Zhongqiu.
In preparation for our beach time we went to find sunscreen and stared at a full wall of men's and women's lotions that are proven to make skin noticeably whiter in six weeks. Being contrary to what I was wanting on a Thai beach, which was a tan, I passed them by and almost eyed them with fear. But the concept stuck with me as we shopped. I couldn't figure out why they would want to be whiter. Why would they want to lighten their beautiful skin? But then the reverse logic is why would I want to be so tanned? Was I not content with my white skin? The answer was no, but it was a worthwhile thought experiment.
That night we headed back to Chinatown to get a taste of something new. Turning down a largely unlit alleyway, we caught sight of griddles heating nearly to red atop a bed of hot coals and smelled the pungent smell of ginger, soy sauce and fried egg. A hurried waiter shuttled smoking griddles piled high with flat, wide rice noodles to the fuschia plastic stools beside the smoldering wok and across the street.We ordered two and were met with a mound of some of the best fried noodles we've ever had which were essentially equal parts noodles and bird's eye chilies. A milder strawberry chili sauce topped it off. Of course there was beer. One dollar each, had we had more time I would have gone back the next day. That food burn lasted a good twelve hours.
When you eat your dinner, find a plastic chair and go sit out on the curb, preferably with a beer that sits in the curbside because there's no room on your lap. This posture makes food fun.
Things I learned in Bangkok:
Bangkok is too hot for pants.
The first thing you should locate in a new city is Chinatown. It's for your own good.
Thailand loves their King.
Quote from Bangkok:
In regards to my purple arm,
Moozh: Babe, what happened to your arm?
Me: Bangkok happened to it.
Bohemian Recommends:
Unico Premier MetroLink Hotel - Cheap swank!
Yaowarat (Chinatown) - Thanks for waking up when the lights go down.
Wat Pho - For being quintessential.
Chatuchak - The Muhammad Ali of markets.
Khao San Road - It's like a tourist jello shot, oddly satisfying.
Lumpini Night Market at Lumpini Park - Killer hot pot.
Pak Klong Talad (Bangkok Flower Market) - Thanks for setting the standard.
This was the preemptive advice given to me by my husband as we were leaving the New Delhi airport to fly into Thailand. Moozh flew into the Bangkok airport back in 2000 on his way to Cambodia. Back then it had been a compound-like block replete with militia and cavity searches for smuggled goods. Brokedown Palace, for real.
Needless to say, I could have been described as jittery as we descended onto the tarmac. And then, lit up in night light, I saw the glittery, polished window panes of Suvarnabhumi. I looked at Moozh. I probably made a sarcastic remark about how scary it looked. Moozh, on the other hand, his mouth just hung open. As it turns out, in the ensuing decade, Bangkok built an ENTIRELY new airport. The original airport, the one Moozh remembered, Don Muang, is now used for discount and domestic flights, although even it looked like a cleaned up, Westernized version of its former self.
At risk of sounding like the opening monologue to The Beach, I'll refrain from expounding upon all of the things that make Bangkok infamous and magnetic. I'll tell you about Chinatown and walking past icy styrofoam bins of shark fins. I'll tell you about getting more pad thai and spring roll than I could finish and handing over a $1.25 for it. I'll tell you about walking past an artillery range where you could shoot an AK-47 by yourself a block south of the Grand Palace.
Our time in Bangkok was spent mostly walking and eating, walking and eating. The directions our hotel provided were atrocious and we were lost for easily forty-five minutes only to find that our hotel had been quite literally right across the street from the train station. Goes to show our observance. But we got a first hand view of Bangkok's notorious traffic congestion. That's a plus side, I guess. We were rolling into Thailand at the tail end of their rainy season. Climate change being what it is, the term "rainy season" is something less iron clad than previously believed but even some travel forums went as far to say that October was the wettest month of the rainy season. Off the airport link, our goose chase towards our hotel smack dab in the middle of a monsoon, we were beginning to wonder if our desires for Thailand were going to be planted firmly behind a rain cloud. We sloppily slid in to the Unico Premier MetroLink, a merciful oasis of A/C and polished marble tile. We ate pad thai, a dish which is best served from a styrofoam clamshell, off of plates with a fork and knife with white napkins. We showered and relished our first Thai beer which, even at mini bar prices, was not quite two dollars.
We woke up to rain, not so much a monsoon as a veneer of hazy mist. After planning out what we wanted to see, the rain had subsided. We packed our rain coats and slipped into some of the freakishly comfortable pants we had bought in Nepal. Big mistake. The rain clouds that hovered above were quickly obliterated by the high sun of midday. My sweat was so cohesive it scrubbed the paint of my beaded bracelet off, the purple pigment of which remained on my arm for another day and a half. When you pay less than a dollar for something, you really expect better quality. Our first day, we figured we would wander the river and canals that Bangkok is so famous for. The name "bangkok", though the true origin is undecided, one theory holds that it came from Bang Ko, bang meaning "village situated on a stream" and ko meaning "island". The riverside would take us through the flower market and along the fringe of Chinatown.
Little India, littered with hanging flower garlands and puffy, freshly fried pappadum balloons, bleeds into the Pak Klong Talad flower market, the largest flower market in Bangkok. Behind the floral lines is a warehouse of fresh Thai produce, kafir lime, pineapples, unripe papaya, basins of bird's eye chilies and buckets of galangal and turmeric. Crossing the Memorial Bridge, the Chao Phraya river below opaque with silt, Bangkok becomes somewhat subdued, suburban even. We turn down a canal, lined with longtail boats, the knifelike, wingtip eaves of wats in the distance serving as a perimeter. Following that canal would have taken us to the Taling Chan floating markets, one of the preserved markets of the "old days" where Som Tam, fresh fish and handicrafts are sold boat side. But we found ourselves caught up wandering through the neighborhoods along the river; seeing young boys get their first taste of Muay Thai at a makeshift gym set up under a bridge; seeing grandmas play with their grandchildren while their laundry dries on the line; monks, swathed in orange, dozing in the shade of a Wat.
There is considerable forum chatter when it comes to the best food markets in Bangkok. Type in "best cheap eats in Bangkok" and you will have a market in each fraction of the city to serve you. We were told to look for hospitals, universities or major transit stations. Find one of those and there will be good food nearby. This logic held true and had we had more time in Bangkok we may have had to use it. But we had a market for each meal as it was. Our first foray into the Bangkok food scene was Lumpini Market. Nestled on the outskirts of Lumpini Park, the food market hosts a dozen or more food stalls serving up everything from pad thai and boba to hot pot and BBQ all under what still appears to be a blue tarp. We passed numerous food markets on our way, all conveniently located outside LRT stations but Lumpini market held ferociously spicy, steaming bowls of hot pot with freaky seafood bobbing around with rice noodles. Meal fit for a king, for what felt like free of charge.
I had never seen anything like Bangkok's Chinatown at night. As soon as the sun dips below the West Bank of the Chao Phraya, Chinatown lights up in neon from curb to rooftop. Not a necessarily quiet neighborhood during the day, the soi markets selling everything from pig ears to Angry Bird flip flops are packed, but what draws people into Chinatown and brings them back again and again is the nightlife. Blinking billboards advertise shark fin and bird's nest soups. The burnt sugar smell of roasting chestnuts and fragrant pork broth fill the air. Pedestrians and the plastic chairs of food carts spill onto Yaowarat Road, a road still bustling with mad scooter traffic and large tour buses. Everywhere you look you see either something you want to eat or something that you have no idea what it is or what it's used for.
Shopping is said to be the national pastime of Thailand. Chatuchak Weekend Market is worthy support to this argument. The market covers a monstrous 27 acres filled with 15,000 booths. It is only open Saturday and Sunday but receives 200,000 visitors each day, only 30% of which are foreign. That is a considerable amount of repeat business. I'm not a clothes horse and I don't even really enjoy shopping that much and I was swallowed by the market for easily three hours. Seemingly endless, the market hosts everything from housewares, vintage Asian decor, lawn furniture, food, and clothing, all with a healthy amount of knock-off mixed in. No market in Thailand is complete without food stalls practically on top of each other. From the time we walked in to the time we left, I don't think I stopped eating. Handmade pork sausage served on a plastic bag with pickled ginger and minced chilies. Quart sized cups cha yen, tea bolstered by ice and sweetened condensed milk. Cubes of ice cream served on a skewer in a paper cone. After I decided on durian ice cream, Moozh made me promise not to kiss him because my breath was going to smell like stinky shoes.
From Chatuchak we were headed to the Victory Monument. The monument itself is not that exciting. Erected to commemorate Thai victory in a land dispute battle between the Thai and the French, the actual monument itself is secondary in importance to the hustle and bustle of the area. The Victory Monument is known for its nightlife, markets, restaurants and as a general transit hub into Bangkok for all major modes of public transport. Two massive plates of pad thai and an impromptu bowl of Tom Yum -which caught our eye when we saw a bowl wander by to another table- and we headed back out to in the direction of home.
Surprisingly we didn't hit the backpackers haven of Khao San Road until our last day. Sitting on a curb eating Pad thai and spring rolls which for Moozh and I didn't even come to three dollars, I asked myself why it had taken us so long. I glanced over to the stall beside me and realized I even could have gotten my degree from the University of Liverpool for ten bucks. Khao San Road was a holy grail. When we got caught in a downpour as we strolled the market, we sat and had beers which we could pay for with small change.We saw Wat Suthat and the Giant Swing. We sloshed through seemingly bottomless puddles and walked past shops selling six-foot golden Buddha statues, some seated, some standing, some pre-wrapped in cushioned wrap for easy transport. We wandered around the perimeter of the Grand Palace but somehow missed Wat Po and the Reclining Buddha. We bought moon cakes filled with watermelon seeds and lotus paste for the Mid-Autumn festival of Zhongqiu.
In preparation for our beach time we went to find sunscreen and stared at a full wall of men's and women's lotions that are proven to make skin noticeably whiter in six weeks. Being contrary to what I was wanting on a Thai beach, which was a tan, I passed them by and almost eyed them with fear. But the concept stuck with me as we shopped. I couldn't figure out why they would want to be whiter. Why would they want to lighten their beautiful skin? But then the reverse logic is why would I want to be so tanned? Was I not content with my white skin? The answer was no, but it was a worthwhile thought experiment.
That night we headed back to Chinatown to get a taste of something new. Turning down a largely unlit alleyway, we caught sight of griddles heating nearly to red atop a bed of hot coals and smelled the pungent smell of ginger, soy sauce and fried egg. A hurried waiter shuttled smoking griddles piled high with flat, wide rice noodles to the fuschia plastic stools beside the smoldering wok and across the street.We ordered two and were met with a mound of some of the best fried noodles we've ever had which were essentially equal parts noodles and bird's eye chilies. A milder strawberry chili sauce topped it off. Of course there was beer. One dollar each, had we had more time I would have gone back the next day. That food burn lasted a good twelve hours.
When you eat your dinner, find a plastic chair and go sit out on the curb, preferably with a beer that sits in the curbside because there's no room on your lap. This posture makes food fun.
Things I learned in Bangkok:
Bangkok is too hot for pants.
The first thing you should locate in a new city is Chinatown. It's for your own good.
Thailand loves their King.
Quote from Bangkok:
In regards to my purple arm,
Moozh: Babe, what happened to your arm?
Me: Bangkok happened to it.
Bohemian Recommends:
Unico Premier MetroLink Hotel - Cheap swank!
Yaowarat (Chinatown) - Thanks for waking up when the lights go down.
Wat Pho - For being quintessential.
Chatuchak - The Muhammad Ali of markets.
Khao San Road - It's like a tourist jello shot, oddly satisfying.
Lumpini Night Market at Lumpini Park - Killer hot pot.
Pak Klong Talad (Bangkok Flower Market) - Thanks for setting the standard.