It's been two days in Bangkok. To include all would require a long short story that I'm not sure anyone but my mother would care to read. And so, in your interest, I will try - only try - to keep this succinct.
Arrival - duty free whiskey straight from the bottle on the cab ride to the apartment. Aaron's chatting non-stop as I gaze out of the window at late-night Bangkok, taking occasional pulls. We arrive and lug the luggage up several flights to a top-floor apartment. Large, open floor plan, tile floors, and a balcony that overlooks downtown Bangkok (see pics). Aaron then takes me up to the roof and it's a full 360 view of the city. By this point, I'm drunk on exhaustion and whiskey and damn overpowered by heat, humidity, finally getting here, and city lights. Eventually the excitement gives way to sleep.
There are people staying here on their way to Ko Lanta, a Brit named Richey who gives tours of North Korea and Iran, Sarah, the British girl he randomly picked up and was tagging along, Shawnassey - a Portland native and all around rad dude, and his Chinese girlfriend, Carrie - also rad. We roll out late, as people do on holiday and take cabs, the Sky Train, a water taxi on the Chow Praya, to end up at Ko San row. I'm eating fresh cut fruit from baggies, turning skewers of meat on street barbecues before stuffing it in my mouth, and drinking fresh-squeezed mandarin orange juice. The row is long, full of farong (foreigners), and jammed with shops.
Bold natives ride down the pedestrian-thick streets in taxis, motorbikes, and buses. It is hot and hectic. I have a sheen of sweat constantly, and the lack of sleep keeps me in a constantly high state, along with the totally novel sensory input of this place. Tiny streets packed with life, balconies full of people, there is life in every corner. A scooter cruises by with an ornate street cart attached to the side of it, sausages bouncing from the top structure. It's every bit of what I imagined and more.
Getting through this place with six people is like herding cats, each of us stopping to inspect fisherman pants, a weird slogan shirt, board shorts, Dr. Dre Beats knock offs, the list is endless. Catching the water taxi back finally, I'm jostled in my seat next to Aaron, we talk about love lost and dramatic exits as we pass the King's palace, huge temples, and head back to the apartment for a quick rinse before heading out to a show.
We end up on RCA, a street packed with clubs and locals, very few farong here compared to the first half of the day. On an outdoor patio stage, a four-piece band is playing traditional Thai music. The lead player is working a Thai guitar like Jimmy Hendrix was issuing a challenge. Aaron is super excited, as a collector of world music, and especially Thai music. At the door he purchases two necklace pendents made with the strings of that guitar and blessed by three monks. The player had taken his instrument down to one string and was wailing better than a six string, his face blissful with music and concentration. Supporting him was a drummer, a bass player that remained out of my line of sight, and another traditional Thai instrument that requires a picture and makes a whah-whah sound. To my ears, it sounded like guitar riffs from the sixties and the crowd is dancing and sweating it out under the street lights.
The exhaustion of the last few days and time change hits me through my second beer and I'm guzzling water and trying to forbid Aaron from using the bathroom, I'm so desperate for him to tuck me into an air-con cab. On our walk to the taxi, I stop for a public pee behind some bushes in front of what looks like a bank while Aaron runs interference. It feels like home.
The morning brings a suffocating heat and humidity that I want to run from, knowing eventually I will adjust (right?). The visiting crew is leaving and I'm relieved to know that, seeing how stressed Aaron is concerning one person in the group who even I have to admit is a real pain in the ass on so many fronts. We finally head out to go to another market, one where I'm a definite minority. It's huge and requires frequent map stations that barely help. Aaron warns that if I see anything I like to buy it because I'll never find that stall again. It's Puerto Vallarta outdoor market on steroids, tons of booths full of ridiculous knock offs, slogan shirts (see images), glassware, animals, cold drinks, food. Children tend booths with the same seriousness as their adult counterparts, I watch a girl manning an ice pop barrel, each aluminum cylinder jammed in ice and filled with soda. She carefully examined a cluster until she finds the flavor she wants and sits to enjoy it in the heat, carefully turning it so the drips land in a small bucket of water she's been dipping the cylinders in. Of course I have to have one.
Stopping for an iced coffee, I watch the lady preparing it include three tablespoons of condensed milk, three tablespoons of caramel flavoring, several scoops of sugar (obviously needed at this point), cream, and a couple of shots of espresso. My pancreas aches for relief as I drink it and Aaron and I take a well-deserved seat. As we watch the throngs navigate the market, he spies a mannequin next to us with a tissue tee and feather/bead necklace that he declares would be perfect on me. Agreeing, we spend the next twenty minutes trying to tell the shop keeper that indeed, we want the shirt AND the necklace that apparently they don't carry and someone had brought it to work to decorate their singular sales manniquin. With laughter, she sells us both, the necklace was only 50 baht, or about a dollar and a half.
Stopping for more ice cold drinks after picking out two china bowls, four glasses, and some fisherman pants, we find ourselves looking at a painting 5 feet by 7 feet, black and white, a face formed of different fish. Deciding it was ridiculously psychedelic and awesome, I approach the lady manning the booth and ask her for the price. She blurts out 300,000 baht, catches herself as I make a face of horror, and corrects the price to 10,000 baht, or $300. I thank her and go back to finish my drink and strategize over how to bargain down an already ridiculously low price. We leave the market happy with our bargaining and with the promise that the painting would be delivered the next day.
Getting back to the apartment, I stripped out of sweat-soaked clothes and marched around in as little as possible while stringing up lights from the market, unpacking, and generally nesting in the newly-empty apartment.
Aaron has arranged for us to get a two hour massage at a local Buddhist Thai Massage School for the unreal price of $300 baht, or $10 each. I'm asleep in 35 minutes, the woman working on me using her knees to contort me into positions, giving me three quick taps to wake me and readjust. I'm not long for consciousness after that and end up crashing out within minutes of getting home.