Thailand, day 1. I've been anticipating my first trip to Thailand for what seems like forever, but my first impression is underwhelming. The airport express from Suvarnabhumi into Bangkok is fast, cheap and comfortable; finding my way and buying a ticket is easy. The scenery on the train ride is uninspiring; the air is hot and thick with smog, and the buildings are much like home. Apart from the "priority seat for monks" sign on the train, Bangkok strikes me as unremarkable – and that's not why I travel.I'm trying to smile, but my backpack feels unwieldy, and my Converse feel too tight. Is the slash-proof, theft-proof daypack overkill? Was this trip a mistake? I want to fall in love, but I have a horrible feeling Bangkok won't suck me in. Just another big city, with prettier font on the signs. I am quickly proven wrong.
Falling in love with Bangkok
I get off the train and look for a tuk tuk. A driver pulls over, looks at the hotel address, mutters something in Thai and drives off without me. Several more tuk tuks pass me by. One finally pulls over and I negotiate a fare of 200 baht for a 50 baht ride. (When I say negotiated, I mean he said 200, I countered, he said 200, I paid.) I'm beginning to think I need to be pushier in Thailand.
We zip through traffic with hundreds of motorbikes, escape down back alleys decorated with colorful street art, stop suddenly at a gas station (the driver runs in to pee), and shortly arrive at the hotel. How do I say thank you? I ask. "Khob khun kha," he tells me, smiling.
A young woman welcomes me at the hotel with a sing-song, drawn out "sawasdee kaaa," bowing deeply, hands pressed together as if in prayer. This charming welcome is normal, I learn, and these become my most-repeated words.
A young woman welcomes me at the hotel with a sing-song, drawn out "sawasdee kaaa," bowing deeply, hands pressed together as if in prayer. This charming welcome is normal, I learn, and these become my most-repeated words.
My hotel is in a quiet part of Bangkok (who knew that was a thing?), a couple of kilometers away from Khao San Road, facing the canal, a 15 minute walk from the Chao Phraya river, which snakes its way alongside the city. I marvel at my lovely room (★★★★★, $$), ditch my stuff and start to walk, no real plan in mind.
I quickly realize this is not a touristy part of Bangkok, and I'm thankful. I wander through a neighborhood where the daily market is winding down, monks in orange are drifting in and out of the temple, and street food vendors are serving up grilled bananas and skewers of delicious-smelling meat. I kick myself for not knowing the language, for being shy, for not stopping to eat.
A ferry ride to Wat Arun
I make my way down to Thewet Pier, one of dozens of landings along the Chao Phraya river. I puzzle at the map, communicate with the ticket seller using hand signals, and somehow manage to figure out which ferry I need to catch and purchase a ticket (only 10 baht!). As I wait I watch fish roiling in the water, ferries come and go, elegant long tail boats zip along, and tugs pull enormous barges upriver. I'm the only tourist on the ferry, which zig-zags across the busy river, picking up and dropping off locals. My grin has returned.
I jump off the boat at Wat Arun, across the river from Bangkok's Old City. Buddhist temples – wats – are as common as 7-Elevens in Thailand; you'll see one on every corner. Wat Arun is a stunning example: a tall central tower (prang), guarded by four shorter towers. Colorful glazed tiles cover every inch, making the wat glow in the late day sun.
I walk up the steep stairs of the central tower to get a closer look (which I almost regret later: the walk down is slightly terrifying) and spend a happy couple of hours marveling at the beauty and symmetry.
A 24-hour flower market
Another ferry takes me back across the river. I decline the offer of a tuk tuk ride and walk through Bangkok's Old City as darkness descends, past Wat Phra, over to Pak Khlong Talak, a 24-hour flower market. Piles of yellow marigolds, bunches of pink roses, and mounds of purple orchid buds and white jasmine fill the night with color and the air with fragrance.
I watch women string colorful flower garlands and jump out of the way of men carting enormous loads of flower buds; I'm surprised not to see any other tourists here. I will see these flowers all over Thailand, decorating temples, tuk tuks, food carts, stores and homes.
Dinner in Bangkok's Chinatown
I end my day with a walk to Bangkok's Chinatown, which is alive with street food vendors and hungry locals and tourists, prowling from one stall to another, eating everything from noodles and curries, lobster and kebabs, coconut ice cream and fresh mango, to deep fried scorpions (for the tourists).
I enjoy some Pad Thai, cooked in a massive wok in front of my eyes, then a heavenly mix of black sesame balls with ginkgo and coconut milk. I return to the hotel by tuk tuk (300 baht! overpaid again), feet sore, belly sated, happy I finally made it to Thailand. I resolve to be less reticent tomorrow, to speak more Thai, to negotiate harder and eat everything that looks interesting.
I have a feeling I might fall in love after all.
I enjoy some Pad Thai, cooked in a massive wok in front of my eyes, then a heavenly mix of black sesame balls with ginkgo and coconut milk. I return to the hotel by tuk tuk (300 baht! overpaid again), feet sore, belly sated, happy I finally made it to Thailand. I resolve to be less reticent tomorrow, to speak more Thai, to negotiate harder and eat everything that looks interesting.
I have a feeling I might fall in love after all.
