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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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?
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| Complimentary massage? Yes please |
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| 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).
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