From the Lavish to the Downright Lude, Bangkok

There are some things you have inevitably encountered in your life that you unexpectedly took a sudden disproportionate fancy to, with no apparent explanation as to why. At some moment in time, for some obscure reason that may be impossible to pinpoint or express in words, you have liked something or someone from the first moment you laid eyes on them- a painting, a person you happen to speak to on the street, a stray dog, a new café, a random tree, a pogo stick. That, for me, was Bangkok. 

Maybe it was the streets devoid of the eternal raucous honking vehicles, calm within its chaos, or perhaps the familiarity of recognizable names and commerce such as Au Bon Pain and Topshop. Maybe it was the charming demeanor of every Thai person we came across, full of smiles, gentle speech and mannerisms, unsolicited helpful kind eyes, a people who greet you with serene bows that make you feel humbled and honored simultaneously. Whatever it may have been, I instantly felt comfortable from the very first moment I stepped foot inside the city. What surprised me perhaps the most about Bangkok was that it taught  me to appreciate something I never thought would have been possible. Having always seen myself as an adventurous ‘old school’ type (I prefer to lug heavy books with me in my suitcase instead of resorting to a pageless Kindle, for example), I often tend to reject the mass globalization and commoditization that characterizes the time I have been born in. Yet, one of the things I loved the most about Bangkok was its huge shopping malls, acres of sanitized, shiny, and bright marbled luxury, oases of ease and air conditioned comfort, ranging from extensive food courts below harboring my favorite recognizable haunts, to floors upon floors of accessible trendy shops, to Madame Tussauds and luxury cinemas and skating rinks.

Pantip Plaza

It was in one of these malls that I went to fix my frustratingly inept $200 travel computer (it decided one morning that it would connect to the Internet no more; it has since been stolen. I mourn its loss). Pantip Plaza is the to-go place for technological purchases and woes— 8 floors of anything and everything electronic conceived by man and machine. I browsed through walking talking iPod-dock dogs, to millimeter thin television screens, studded fashion headphones, phone hacker stalls, and paused in front of a pirated DVD stand. I know, I know, scandalous… Right next to me, browsing through the TV series pile stood none other than a saffron robed monk. Despite months of being in Asia, every time I see a dressed monk going about his mundane chores I cannot help but to be startled, especially when said monk is browsing through pirated DVDs. On top of it, he about to purchase Season 3 of Lost. 

I could not stand by and let him commit such a grave error, and set myself a challenge- to try and convince him to buy the film I was had laid my hands on: Harold and Kumar go to Whitecastle. I politely said Hello (‘sawatdee’) and indicated to the Lost DVD with a thumbs down, grimaced expression and a cut-throat gesture, then proffered him my film with a huge smile saying, “Funny, good! I like.” A moment’s tense hesitation (the monk was clearly not used to being told what movie to buy by foreign blonde girls) and… Mr. Monk walked away, the happy new owner of a pirated Harold and Kumar.

One of the monks browsing the aisles

My second mall experience took place the next evening when I went to go watch the new James Bond movie in the Paragon Mall Cinema. Now, some mood setting is in order to fully do justice to the Bangkok Airways Cineplex. Imagine walking into a large hall on the top floor of a colossal shopping mall, to be greeted by futuristic letters spelling out POPCORN BAR, blue lights a-dazzling and a golden glow of deluxe padded luxury. You proceed up soft red carpeted stairs, into the jewel-chandeliered and silver tabled lounge area, where a suited waiter kneels down next to you and presents an iPad with upheld palms, head down, as if it were sacred tome of the Bible, and asks you which complementary entrée you would prefer. Obvious choice- a glass of white Chardonnay with salted almonds. 

Paragon Mall Cinema

Promptly, another usher comes to ask you if you would now like to come have your 20-minute massage; not one to decline such a suggestion, I put my wine on ice and indulged in a painful but needed (kneaded) head, neck and shoulder pamper session. Then, pick up the drinks, order dinner, and proceed into the spacious cinema room. Four rows of double-seated sofa beds await, with unexpectedly soft duvets and reclining seats that even British Airways have not mastered yet- come to think of it, a definite sneaky enticement to fly first class with Bangkok Airways. Tucked in, wine at the ready and seat reclined, shoulders decompressed, anticipating the imminent arrival of your dinner… What more could any cinemagoer ever ask for?

Complimentary massage? Yes please

The cinema "lounge"

Last, but not least, what visit to Bangkok would be complete without an outing to its infamous ping-pong shows. Just to enlighten those poor souls who are yet uninformed about what these red light shows entail, here is Wikipedia’s definition: “The show consists of women using their pelvic muscles to either hold, eject, or blow objects from their vaginal cavity. Such objects include: long string, whistles, pens, cigarettes, candles, darts, razor blades, chopsticks and, of course, ping pong balls. Another activity is the shooting of goldfish into a bowl, or stuffing a rather large frog inside to see how long she can keep it in.” Clarified... However, our story went somewhat differently. We arrived at Patpong street, an area lined with different strip clubs and sex shows, where a fervent gesticulating local promising us a good show pushed us up a dirty flight of stairs; here, we fell right into the typical tourist scam of Patpong. “Come up and see show, look for free, first drink 150 baht, then you decide!” – sounds like a good deal? We should have known from the moment we walked into the dimly lit room and were greeted not by sexy strippers but by whales who had misplaced their underwear and washed up flailing on shore, that something was very amiss.

The show itself consisted of a woman shooting darts from her nether-regions to pop several balloons. A formidable achievement, granted, yet nothing happened after that two minute performance. As we tried to pay for our drinks and leave, the patrons asked us unblinkingly to pay the 2800 baht (around $100) that we owed!! Shocked, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, we amusedly asked them to explain this cost and they broke it down for us- 800 per adult, 500 for the show, and 300 for our two drinks plus a complimentary tip. We refused, point blank, and headed for the door, paying only for our drinks and the tip. A threatening beefy lesbian tried to block our exit, and for a split second I was scared I was about to be beaten up by a Thai sex bar bouncer. 

Luckily, we managed to escape with the only damage being a few flying insults and decided a tamer option would be to bar-hop a few strip clubs. The girls inside the clubs sobered up my mood, as many of them were clearly around 16 years old; a particular one with fake blue contacts and leopard print underwear came up to me and asked me to buy her a drink, placing her tiny little hand on my lap. She could not have been older than fourteen. My heart went out to her- not being educated to know any better, growing up in the environment of Bangkok where sex becomes an open transaction. You cannot reprehend groups of friends who come here to have some fun between themselves, but what did disgust me were the lone old men who troop in led by a girl and sit with leering expressions and drooling mouths, eyes rooted to the objects dancing in front of them. Leaving Patpong to go to a nightclub, we temporarily stopped by another ping-pong show, possibly more pathetic than the last. When I went to the bathroom, I returned to find my friend buried under a pile of hookers, who were violently grabbing his arms (and his groin) as he tried in vain to rise and flee their hungry mob. I wish photographs had been permitted so I could have documented this evening; you would now be looking at the delightful picture of one of these strippers shooting a banana straight into his face.

(Getting to Bangkok: I would perhaps not recommend the arduous journey we undertook to anyone who is neither on a slim budget nor who does not cope well with awkward travel conditions. Overall, between switching buses, waiting several hours to pass customs at the Thai border, and a series of minivan rides, the journey from Siem Reap took us over 12 consecutive hours. The one and a half hour flight may indeed be advisable).