Bangkok Trip Part 2

I awoke around 9am. I was in Bangkok, still. Wait, was I?…Yep, I was…I had forgotten about that.

I opened the blinds and looked out the window. Nothing going on out there, whatsoever. Just a bunch of concrete buildings that looked more like the CIA than hotels. Plus, the food vendors were all up the street. I almost imagined that I could smell the food thru the closed window. I was hungry!

Over in the other room, I heard Youris rustling around…presumably with that 10-ton duffle bag of his. This is the NUMBER ONE thing that will drive you bonkers while traveling for extended periods in foreign countries: looking for things in your duffle bag/backpack. See, it’s like this: one way or the other, you are carrying EVERYTHING YOU NEED/OWN on your BACK. Thus, you always have to remember where you put your socks, toothbrush, cash, bus tokens, shirts, travel guide, airplane tickets, etc. It’s not as easy as it would seem. It’s absolutely maddening how many times you will zip/unzip your bag while looking for things!

The room, here at the fifty year old, well-kept, Atlanta Hotel, was nice and cool. The A/C unit hanging on the wall, had done its job. Not a bad perk for an extra 4 US dollars per night! Although the room had almost nothing in it, it still felt Asian. Perhaps that's because I knew the room lay within the confines of SE Asia. Difficult to say. Secondarily, I guess it's not like you could mistake the desk in the corner, for something bought at IKEA. It looked like it weighed a TON! But the Thai busboys, thin as they were, probably tossed that thing in here like a big pillow. Thai guys are quite strong for their size.

The bathroom wasn’t too bad, either. There was a little water pressure in the shower, (with no shower curtain, of course), a sink and a mirror.

I poked my head into Youris’ room. He was hunched over the bed, rummaging thru his bag looking for God knows what.

“How’d you sleep?” I asked.

“Not too bad. Nicer than a lot of places along the coast of New Zealand, I’ll tell you that!"—(his English was flawless! Just amazing, these Europeans. English is a tough language, too)—“for this kind of price, you would be sleeping 4 to a room!”

“Remind me not to go to New Zealand. Actually, scratch that, there’s no need to remind me.”

“It’s beautiful though. I spent the last month there,” he said wistfully.

“You spent the last MONTH just in New Zealand? Do you Europeans EVER work?…I mean, E-V-E-R?!” I asked with equal measures of jealosy and admiration.

“Nope. Not after graduation, we don’t. It’s all about traveling as much as we can.”

I still couldn’t get over how good his English was. He knew the correct idioms and everything. He had spent almost NO time in the states. How is that even possible? Answer: these guys study English the way we study completely useless science facts with bunson burners and concave vs. convex mirrors in the States. That’s how come the French can outbid the Japanese on a nuclear fission project and still sleep in for 20 percent of the day. Ultimately, success and securing work is about communication not QUALification. Being able to speak languages and a region's particular vernacular is EVERYTHING.

Youris was almost finished jostling around with his stuff. We both proceeded to pack what we would need for the day. Luckily, Youris had a backpack inside the 2 ton duffle bag, so he packed his stuff into there.

We said goodbye to our nice air conditioned room in our little corner of Bangkok, and made our way down the wide, spiral staircase that ended at the concierge desk in the lobby.

It was a large and impressive lobby with 30 foot ceilings, complete with a travel agent section behind a big mahogany desk in the corner. The desk had a sign that said “TRAVEL AGENCY” on it. That's how I knew. But we had a map, so we didn’t bother with that.

We had breakfast in the cool little diner area--the Bangkok version of The Standard Diner on Sunset Blvd. We saw all these hot little travel bunnies, in the diner, with their tattoes, and their lightweight clothing, smoking cigarettes and drinking fruit shakes. Many wore strange multicolored wristbands, and had expensive sunglasses perched atop their heads. These were not rookies. They had been in SE Asia before, most likely, and they knew that it was going to be BLOODY FREAKING HOT in April, and they had packed accordingly.

I marveled at how rockin' it was to have a nice little restaurant INSIDE our hotel lobby filled with cute German girls. German is not my favorite language to hear first thing in the morning, but, ah well. Things could be worse.

Youris and I ordered something simple, ate it quickly, and headed for the door to hail a cab.

The doorman opened the door for us—a DOORMAN at a 10 dollar a night HOTEL, and we stumbled out into—OHMIGOD IT'S AN OVEN OUT HERE!!

I looked over at Youris. His entire HEAD WAS ON FIRE!!! The heat and punishing sun had actually engulfed his rathar large head in thin, blue flames. He was gonna feel THAT in the morning.

We waited 3 or 4 minutes before a cab stopped at our feet, and the driver jumped out to get our backpacks.

First of all, NO, I’ll hold my backpack thank you very much (I like to keep it in sight just to be on the safe side). I was a semi-PRO even though I had never been to Bangkok before.

Second of all, HOW MUCH BUDDY??. Like I’m going to get in the cab without naming the price first. I DIDN’T COME HERE BY WAY OF A TURNIP PLANE IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

“How much to go to the river for Wat Pho?” (a popular destination that is a well-known Thai temple), I asked, giving my best negotiation glare.

“350 baht!” he said excitedly.

I mimed having a heart attack, a complete performance--I even fell to the dirty ground clutching my chest.

“350 BAHT! WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO—TAKE ALL MY MONEY? IS THAT IT?!! ARE YOU TRYING TO CHISEL THE LIVING HECK OUT OF ME!?”

(350 baht was twice what a very generous fare would be)

“Forget it,” said Youris, who was less histrionic, but similarly displeased. He started walking back to the entrance of the hotel.

The Thai cabbie was momentarily worried, “OK. OK. I like Yankees. I like Dodgers. I give you price for 250 baht!” he offered, grinning at us.

“Forget it, man! I might as well just catch a PERSONAL AIRCRAFT to the river for that price!!”, I exclaimed.

“What is person-al ehKRaft, mean?” he asked, perplexed.

“We’ll do 50 baht,” offered Youris.

“WHAT?” the man exclaimed. Now it was his turn to have a little fit. “You two are CRAZY! I have to EAT, I have chil-dren-s!”

“We’ll do 150 baht, and that’s it,” I said. The doorman was yawning. He'd seen it all a million times.

The Thai cab driver squinted at me considering it, studying my face. “Hey, you OK, man? You sweating a lot!”

“Well, it is 100 degrees out here!” I looked over at Youris…he was sweating pretty bad too. At least the flames had died down some. His ears were completely black. They'd been burnt to a crisp. What a freak accident to happen on your first day in Bangkok. That noon day sun in Bangkok will kill ya!

“OK, get in the car,” the cabbie said, and Youris and I jumped in.

We zoomed off toward the river at a frightening pace…yep, just like New York cabbies.

I was going to find out that getting a cab in Bangkok was always a tiring, ridiculous exchange of this sort. But I suppose that's part of the fun.