Bangkok Wanderer
As the doors glided open at Bangkok airport I heard myself say aloud ‘Whoa’. The intensity of Thailand’s late April heat just wrapped itself around me, hugging with that warm welcoming greeting that you would expect to feel at airport arrival gates. Before coming to Thailand people had often asked me what I was going to do once I got there and my response was always to take a left. Unfortunately the left that I had anticipated on taking turned out to lead directly on to one of Bangkok’s busiest highways, so I went with the right. With only a bit of paper and a small holdall (my luggage had all been left in Russia during the connect flight) I approached a taxi stand and held out my embarrassed white sheet. The lady looked at the address and smiled, a smile that was really saying ‘You bloody idiot this is all in English.’ She then called over a tall dark man with weighty glasses, and he too looked at my bit of paper and smiled. He then went on to read aloud, in a slow and precise tone Soo- Thee- Sann. After a few moments he suddenly expelled a bold mighty laugh and ardently related his proud deciphering to the lady at the desk. With the morning traffic rushing behind us and my forehead slowly starting to leak he waved me over to his cab and off we went, into the heated lanes littered with rustic trucks pregnant with shrivelled boxes of mystery, scrambling motorbikes and luminous taxis. Sporadic pictures of the monarchy would appear every so often. Huge golden portraits consecrated in flowers and devote tokens of adoration captured the figure of a man appearing gravely sagacious in his royal attire. With darkened softening eyes and thin lips I got the initial impression that this nameless kings was a gentle man, one who understood the admiration his people had for him and reciprocally returned it as all great people do. Looking back through the side mirror I saw his majestic face dissipate and become engulfed by the arms of the rushing past.
We chopped our way through the stacks of buildings and streets, all flooded with slender people hiding inside drooping umbrellas, defending themselves against the overbearing sun. It soon became apparent that we were in fact lost. The drivers face grew ever more perplexed. I suggested in my broken English that we call the number of the friend that I was to be staying with and try get directions from the receptionist. After a squinted punch of some random numbers on his Nokia and a few U-Turns we finally found the hotel, tucked away in a shy alley behind a truck of watermelons.
Bangkok life is as it’s always been described. Noisy, fast, congested with a varying trail of smells that linger from street corner to corner. Its pulse never slows and its energy drives but with a bizarre calmness. It’s almost like an army of ants going to work, void of stress and complaints despite the mayhem of their daily routine. The monsoon rains have come down a few times whilst I have been here. Big heavy warm raindrops that explode on impact leaving the sticky body feeling violated yet wanting more. Cooling the swell of the city, pacifying its maniacal scurry. The rain is welcomed by the people and nature alike. Religion is a lot more indoctrinating than I previously expected yet in a way I think it’s largely responsible for the sensual disposition inherent in most people here. Bouts of anger are rarely seen in much of this region; people have an astonishing amount of patience despite the constant harassment from the heat, which would normally make people more irritable. Yet here at the edge of the world in one of the most vibrant cities I have ever walked through the contrast in wealth devours me. I have heard that it gets worse in the rural areas so I fear what’s to come. The depravation and hardship in countries such as Cambodia and Vietnam haunt my future. I have seen people living beneath subways tunnels here, alone, old and dishevelled. I have driven past homes of corrugated iron where families lay sprawled on black mattresses and rubber tires. Their stagnant reality brushing against the tinted gleam of my Ray Ban sunglasses; my futile Ray Ban sunglasses that I want to throw over the sun.
When the evening draws in and my friends and I have eaten well and spoken of the ills of mankind, I lay on my bed and think of my family and my girlfriend. The ceiling opens the void to another dimension. I invasion them asleep in the safety of their dreams. Dragging themselves off to work in a few hours. Laughing at a joke, worrying about their future, thinking of their newly buried sister, wondering what to cook tonight, watching football or just doing nothing at all. The world doesn’t stop it only forgets. In the morning I will find another place to dream this time in a southern island called Koh Saumi and submit myself to chance and opportunity on the capricious ride of life on the road.
Thursday 29th April 2010
Bangkok, Thailand
