Currently viewing the tag: "bangkok"
Escaping the relentless heat of Bangkok, I spent the entire day at the movies theaters in the gigantic malls that surround Siam, the city’s shopping hub. A triple feature! Though I intended to sneak into my second and third films, they do things a bit different in Thailand. When you buy your ticket you have to choose your seat, like an airplane, and then the theater’s ticket-takers show you to your seat. The door is guarded by an employee the entire duration of the movie. Oh well, evil scheme nipped at the bud. Films 1 and 2 put me out 100 baht each, about $3US. The third, in a newer even taller mall building, was 120 baht. Before each film and after the previews, you’re asked to rise and give respect to the nation’s King during a brief montage of pictures and music. In Bangkok the majority, if not all, films have English subtitles although American film seems to dominate the theaters. I wanted to write reviews for each of the films I saw but put it off like a homework assignment. So let’s just call them my general impressions…
My Blueberry Nights: A master at his themes, Wong Kar Wai has made yet another tale of love, regret, time and the broken heart. Though a bit watered down by the familiar faces of Jude Law, Natalie Portman and Rachel Weisz, his first American film is pure Wong Kar Wai. This adjective describes a style so distinctive I, film neophyte, could pick it out immediately in a line-up. Saturating color, precise and effective use of music and silence, slow motion, time-elapsed film, the voyeuristic placement of the camera, the languid and telling focus on the small details that reveal so much so easily, all very much reminiscent of his earlier films… 2 of which who grace my all-time top 10, creating an instant bias. But I didn’t love My Blueberry Nights… mostly because of Nora Jones. Flat and Neo-ian (This is a reference to Neo in the Matrix, a main character with background pizazz that focuses you more to plot and supporting characters.), she’s the springboard for much richer performances from David Strathairn (who I know more as Pierce Patchett) and Rachel Weisz, where the majority of the film’s emotional depth springs from. Natalie Portman does an good job as a gambling vixen with some Daddy issues but it is getting tiresome seeing her as this provocative, wild girl (It takes more than cleavage to convince wildness.) Chan Marshall (a.k.a. Cat Power) plays Jude Law’s heart’s pang, and convincingly, too. Only a cuckoo like Chan could walk away from the ever-charming and expressive Jeremy (Law). Law is scruffied up in the film at an attempt to achieve cafe owner middle class man status… but there is no hiding that man’s exceptional good looks. All in all, it is a tender love story… of the extent you sometimes have to travel to see what is right in front of your face: (spoiler warning!) Jude law kissing blueberry pie off your lips.
The Kite Runner: I feel a bit hesitant to write my impressions of this film because I want to articulate them precisely and do it justice. But wanting to post this blog today, and not next year, I’ll simple say that I highly recommend the film. That is was richly layered and heartbreaking. That the big, painful eyes of Ahmad Khan Mahmidzada, who plays young Hassan in the film, have not yet left my memory. That I still can’t type, in a tangible form, my response.
The Dream Team: This was just what I needed after The Kite Runner. Some nice, formulaic, simple movie about kindergartners. The movie is based on the true Thailand event, the kindergarten Olympics, but focuses on a class of underdogs in the kindergarten tug-of-war competition. The typical struggles of a hard-edge soccer coach, manipulated into prepping the class of adorable 5 year-olds, provide the film with your standard conflict-resolution. The humor is potty, expectedly, given its main characters. And what do you know, a happy ending! What was unexpected was just how much the Thais in the theater got a kick out of the fart sound effects and the outward, unexcused, sound-projectile burping of the pregnant lady sitting next to me.
Today marks the official start of the Songkran Festival (which I found out has an official website). Buckets, hoses, bottles of water sold by the gross line the curbs along with bright orange and green arms dealers. Walking the few blocks to catch my bus I was within the battleground fighting to keep dry. Being totally dry elicited a few water gun squirts (along with smiles) in passing. Idleness also gets you wet as I learned when I briefly stopped to delete some pics on my camera (a cup of refreshingly frigid water was poured down my back). But mainly, if you have a water gun in your hand, all’s fair. The streets are also enlivened with traditional Thai dancers, many of them squirted themselves. Passengers on buses, taxis and tuk-tuk participate in drive-bys while pedestrians stand on curbs dumping buckets and squirting hoses at open car windows.
Learning another Songkran tradition the messy way, other pranksters walk with small buckets of wet white clay and smear passerbys’ faces. It dries quickly and makes a minor mess of your clothing, skin and hair… but it is a wonderful time to be in Bangkok! Everyone is soaked and happy and covered in clay.
After some deliberation, I decided I’d hit Bangkok’s Patong area and take in some of its vibrant nightlife options. Being settled on Khaosan and quite bored with its offerings, it makes no sense that be stricken to its boundaries in the evening. But a venture into Patong, the city’s red light district, would be a risk on my part, uncertainty the loftiest of obstacles. But I was determined. After combatting the chains and buckles of comfort and laziness, I fought through the water fights already in full swing on Khaosan and jumped in a taxi with only a few drips of battle wounds already evaporating.
The ride was quick and far cheaper than negotiating with the tuk-tuks or motorcycles. They’ve been ripping me off in Bangkok since I arrived under my assumption that the cold blaze of an air-conditioned taxi costs far more. The opposite is actually true. My driver dropped me in front of a market area crawling with tourists: older Westerners of the fanny pack/camera amulet variety. Thick ankles in Tevas, men with hats not on their heads but placed atop… this was Patong?Yes, the red light district, given its tourist draw, is nothing but a market surrounded by bars and clubs. Some seedy looking and named after small cats. Some silly and gimically farang. But hardly the den of sin I imagined. I smiled at the prejudgements that may have kept me away, as if Thai silk and handicrafts were not the fuzzy mossy overgrowth in every attraction I’ve seen thus far.
The bars and gigantic themed clubs are aggressive with a street team of staff shoving drink menus in your path, prices are showed for both single cocktails and… buckets. There are an abundance of Thai women with older white men everywhere but it seems more pathetic than anything else. As I strolled determinedly to my destination, Radio City, I realize that maybe the red light district is a dangerous place… for alcoholics and men. Being blessed to be neither, I was a fly on the wall in a playland for middle aged men and their young Thai girlfriends; a witness to a Peter Pan world where filling in the gaps of your desirability is possible with a lucrative exchange rate.
I found Radio City easily and thankfully and grabbed a seat in front of the stage. Oh, what brought me here was the bar’s nightly performances: Elvis Presley and Tom Jones. Impersonators, of course. It’s been on my Thailand to-do list since well before I left America. Arriving about 30 minutes before the King’s 11:15 showtime, entertainment would be ample as I waited, with the house singer belting out such hits as “House of the Rising Sun”, “Black in Black”, I Just Called to Say I Love You” and “LaBamba”. Beers weren’t cheap so I stretched my two out the 3 or so hours I was there, the performers both intoxicating and hilariously talented (surprisingly). The sets were long and were not just the standard hits. Both of these men do what they do well, their voices spot-on, and I was thankful I had the chance to see them.
Ladies and gentlemen, the King of rock ‘n roll:
And Tom Jones, the midnight show. What this man lacked in image he more than made up for in voice and mannerisms. In that second picture note the “granny panties” on the microphone. Tom, looking a bit perturbed, let them hang on the microphone after the Thai woman who fed off attention removed them and threw them on stage. They would later be thrown around the bar like a hot potato.
I’m Back in Bangkok… but this time for an unprecedented 5-night stay. My flight leaves early morning Wednesday and here, in this bustling maze of tuk-tuk exhaust and street vendors, I will stay til then. I have some goals for this last hurrah, mainly to combat my fear of straying too far from my accommodations. Bangkok is a massive chunk of sinking metropolis. One that, so far, has proved hard to traverse. A big city girl myself, I think back to the days I used the same subway stop (West 4th) for all Manhattan destinations… when the idea of boarding a city bus, in all their mystery, was dismissed immediately. Bangkok looms intimidatingly like New York City used to. These next 5 days will be urban therapy and a test of my recently honed skill of acclimation. A spatial spazz, this ought to prove interesting. My sites and destinations mapped on a silly cartoonish tourist map, tonight I simply rest. With the recently released toxins of my Swedish massage swishing about my body, it’s a night of internet, laundry and strolling aimlessly.
I feared finding a cheap room during the Songkran Festival, the Thai new year, but I got a bed at the cheapest place in town (120 baht a night!) with no problem. Songkran is a festive time akin to Halloween in its good-natured street ambushes. But no shaving cream or eggs, the 3-day celebration is all about water. Water is believed to wash away bad luck. What began as a Buddhist tradition to honor elders is now an organized street celebration, complete with closures, sponsors, fines for pegging moving motorists, initiatives to stay sober, etc. Flags and decorations are all around my guesthouse’s vicinity, the ol’ Khaosan road, where the festival is celebrated with much vigor (although apparently second to Chiang Mai). I’ve already had a Super-Soaker playfully aimed in my direction at the bus station this morning and was squirt by a young woman in her vintage clothing/records store but the festival officially begins tomorrow. I look forward to this fitting end to my journey here in Southeast Asia. Within the first couple of days of the Buddhist calendar year 2552, I head back to Gregorian times. Back to America.
di·chot·o·my
division into two mutually exclusive, opposed, or contradictory groups
Bangkok
Guest house cell, Sweety Guesthouse
Vegan chocolate cake, Ethos Restaurant
Beached
“Bitch face”, Thai restaurant by Sea Gypsy village, Phuket
“Lil Miss Sunshine”, Nature Beach Resort, Ko Chang
Beached, Part II
Non-seclusion, Ko Phi Phi Don, Phuket
Seclusion, Cape Promthep, Phuket
Beached, Part III
My skin on Hat Karon, Phuket
According to Wiki, Bangkok’s Chatuchak Weekend market is the largest market in the world. That certainly seemed to be the case. I only perused a small portion of its 15,000 stalls and was completely overwhelmed. It is estimated that between 2-300,000 people visit the market each day. If you wanted to buy a mogwai, this is where you’d find him. In fact, Chatuchak Market sells many illegal animals, including some that are endangered.
Section 5 of the market contained an enormous selection of vendors selling old Levi’s and Wranglers, cowboy button-downs, hats, boots and belt buckles, vintage t-shirts and old school sneakers. These were the stalls that received much of my attention. Prices are negotiable but not as dirt cheap as I expected.
The vendors are kindly aggressive. The seller pictured here on the left scoured his space for jeans that would fit me as I tried them on under an ugly long skirt. This made us lifelong friends in his eyes and he wanted many pictures taken to remember the experience. Many vendors were straight-up American style hipsters with the attitude to match. Sex Pistols and Guns ‘N Roses blared from many stalls.
Part of the market, including many food stalls, were outdoors. Along with pan-handlers entertaining the many tourists with various types of entertainment. There was a Captain Jack Sparrow look-a-like, musicians of all walks of life, disfigured children and other kids who just stood in front of you staring and waiting for money.
I spend about $48US on my purchases.
After a long afternoon at the market, I ventured from Wangnoi to the public pool facilities. When I arrived the pool was filled with children, all screaming and laughing at my presence. I am starting to get a complex! Anyway, many lined up to intently watch me undress to my bathing suit, to catch a glimpse of my curious color skin. I quickly stepped into the pool to cover my body and swam to the far end of the pool. Eventually all but a couple of children left, as it was dinner time, and I got the pool all to myself. Sweet chlorine relief!
Meet the adorable tiny pig-nosed cat that hangs out on my porch. So loving and ready for a massive purr session, he’d make a wonderful buddy for Frankenstein. I wish I could take him home.
Fighting the rush hour traffic into Bangkok reminded me of home. My tour guide, Kai, and who I will refer to as the quiet one and I arrived at the Grand Place about 9 a.m. The compound of 20+ temples and worshipping sights for both Buddha and the King was a mob scene of international and Thai visitors alike. Since I was dressed in the ultra-revealing clam-diggers I needed to rent a long skirt to enter the compound. The architecture was stunning but one could not stand to admire too long before being bumped and nudged by the hoard of people. In between steps, Kai gave me a brief background on some of the Chinese and Hindu-influenced icons I was snapping pictures of. Unfortunately the the hazy sky did little to brighten up my the vibrant colors of the temples. Within the compound is the very popular Wat Phra Kaeo, or the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. The emerald Buddha is encrusted with diamonds and gold (i.e. Buddha-style bling-bling).
Surrounding the Grand Palace were plenty of street vendors offering tourists all kinds of nooks and crannies. Kai treated me to some sliced yellow and red watermelon before finding a suitable place for me to get a strict vegetarian meal. My meal was 60 Baht (less than 2 American dollars) and was delish. Perfectly blanched vegetables in a light sauce with the standard white rice.
After our lunch, we moved onward to cross the Chao Phraya river via the Tha Thien ferry terminal to hit Wat Arun, or the Temple of the Dawn. This Wat was less bustling than those within the Grand Palace and much older. It was covered in a gorgeous mosaic of Chinese porcelain and its prangs were weathered and worn. Kai and I climbed the central prang to get the impressive views of the river and downtown Bangkok. After Wat Arun, I sampled the sweet corn fritters of the street vendors surrounding the ferry terminal. So far, the best food I’ve had here in Thailand!
Next, the Temple of the Reclining Buddha, Wat Pho. And just like the name suggests, the temples holds an enormous shiny gold Buddha relaxing on his side. I had to resist the urge to snuggle up and spoon with him.
Then onward to backpackers’ mecca and global tourist crossroad Khao San Road in downtown Bangkok. I think Kai presumed I was a shopper (because I am woman? because I am American?) and so was baffled when I was unenthusiastic about perusing the shops and stalls of this area. But as a New Yorker, I equate Khao San road and its perimetering streets like going to Times Square. Tourist prices and tourist belligerence.
On our way back to my homestay in Wangnoi, Kai took me to an enormous fruit market with real local flair.. so much that my presence prompted double-takes and stares, first to me and then towards him. I was wondering how on Earth circumstances aligned to have me spending the entire day with this guy myself. The market was very impressive and brimming with fresh fruits he demanded I try. At the market, we bought mangoes and one huge dragon fruit. Upon my return, dinner at my homestay had long been served and was all-meat anyway. Hmph. I am beginning to wonder if eating vegetarian in Thailand will be as fulfilling as I had thought. I nuked a plate of white rice and smeared the only fitting condiment available on top… a squeeze from a tube of Vegemite. Ew. What is this stuff?
Evenings are slow at the homestay and I’m looking forward to being on my own watch. If it weren’t for my new moleskin journal and all of you in my thoughts, I’d be hijacking a tuk-tuk and heading south to the islands where doing nothing is more acceptable.
Vegan Reporting By Location
