Phuket - F**k it - 1.30.15

OK, so I’ve been in Phuket for about 36 hours, admittedly not long enough to see the whole island, but I’ve been doing my best to find what is noteworthy about this place and why so many people come here. I’ve come up dry. Let me back up . . .

The flight here from Chaing Mai was long. Phuket is in the south and Chiang Mai (where I was flying from) is in the north of this long narrow country so I had much ground to cover to get here. I also had a short layover in Bangkok and when I got on the flight from Bangkok it was overrun with French tourists (not my favorite people to bump into on vacation). I’ve been seeing a lot of French people all over this country and decided to investigate the link between these countries. The abbreviated history that I was able to glean is: 17th century - The French try to colonize Thailand (then Siam) as they’ve done in neighboring Laos and Cambodia but fail. 19th century - France pushes to colonize the country again and war breaks out. This time France wins some ground and expands their presence in Indochina to include regions of Thailand. 1940-41 - When WW II starts, Thailand sees the opportunity to regain lost territories from now weakened France. Germany and Japan come to their aid. They win. It seems to me that the Thai would want no part of the French who have repeatedly battled with them over they years but tourist dollars are tourist dollars, I suppose.

Anyway, I landed late (11:30 pm) and hadn’t done a lot of research so was surprised to get in the cab and drive for close to 45 minutes before reaching my hotel. All the while I watched the meter click up and up (I’d heard that taxis on this part of Thailand were a rip off) and when I finally got out, the ride cost me nearly $30. Ok, in San Francisco that ride would have cost me 2 or 3 times as much but this is Thailand. In Bangkok or Chaing Mai that would have $15. I felt ripped off. At checkin they had me fill out a bunch of forms that I hadn’t had to fill out at other hotels. Multiple people asked me for my departing flight number (I don’t have one - I’m taking a boat to my next port of call) and I found this insistence on establishing the details of my departure just minutes after my arrival to be rude and irritating. By the time they put me in the shuttle to my room (this resort is like a mini San Francisco - up and down a bunch of steep hills so they shuttle you to your room) I was fit to be tied. I didn’t tip the bellman (I regretted this the next day). My heart was beating fast and I felt like I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs. I considered taking a Xanax. But instead I downed the 2 cans of Singha in the minibar and went to bed.

The next morning I woke up early to get in some pool time before taking the free hotel shuttle into town. The free shuttle goes into town once a day at 11am. And it doesn’t go into “town” exactly. It drops you at a hideous western-style shopping mall on the outskirts of town (the hotel no doubt receives kickbacks for this). My plan was to take a taxi from there (still cheaper than carfare from the hotel). But the shuttle was full (of French tourists). They’d neglected to tell me when I’d checked in that you need to book the shuttle in advance (probably because they were so focused on finding out when and how I’d be leaving three days later). They waited for all the passengers to board then realized there was one spot left in the front. The guy sitting there moved over to the hump seat (looking decidedly less than thrilled) and I climbed in. After a bumpy 30 minute ride (the poor schlock next to me kept hitting his head on the ceiling and wincing a bit with every jolt) we arrived. I got off the van and spotted a public bus parked ahead. I ran and jumped in the back. Public buses in Phuket are fun. They look like vehicles you’d use to move day laborers around your farm. They’re open on the back, open on the sides, and passengers sit on benches running the length of each side (one of many things common in Thailand that would never pass code in the US). I didn’t know where the bus was headed but as it pulled away from the shopping mall and the bewildered French people who’d just been dropped there from the hotel I thought “sianara suckers.” The bus wound it’s way through narrow, crowded streets until it reached the downtown district where my cooking class would begin in 2 hours. The driver asked me for 50 cents and I descended.

When I stood on the busy street and opened my honking tourist map a man approached me and told me where I should go - he recommended a local market where I could shop and eat like a Thai person. He offered to chauffeur me around for the next 2 hours for $2. I accepted. I’ve been doing a lot of things in this country that I wouldn’t do at home - hop in cars with total strangers, ride on scooters through streets with seemingly few traffic laws (more on that later) but I’ve felt safe all the while. He took me to the Expo and said he’d back in 45 minutes to take me to my next destination. I entered the market hopefully, unprepared for what I’d see. It was indeed, as promised, a place where Thai people shop. There were a bunch of stalls up and down the halls of this indoor market filled with clothing shoes, underwear, phone accessories, handbags . . . it was interesting to see (the average price of a garment here was $3) but not the kind of shopping I was looking to do. I spotted a set of doors and made a beeline for the exit. But as I approached the exit I saw a black creature scurry between racks at the lingerie shop and I nearly jumped into the arms of a passerby (a tiny elderly man who I most certainly would have crushed). The second rat I’ve encountered in Thailand. I regained my composure and headed outside. I wanted to grab a quick bit before my class and the street food didn’t look appealing. I headed to a nondescript restaurant across the street called “Uptown.” It was nearly full with Thais, not a westerner in site. I took this to be a good sign and ordered the red chicken curry. As I’ve said before, every curry I’ve had here has been unique. This one was kind of sweet, not too saucy, and served with red bell peppers (a nice touch). I was impressed. I would later read in my guidebook that this is one of the most popular restaurants in town among locals.

I decided to head to cooking class early to explore the grounds so my ad-hoc tour guide dropped me off there. As soon as I arrived I was overcome by reverence. I have dreamed for years of coming to this place. The Blue Elephant cooking school is the reason I came to Thailand at all. It’s a dream that began so many years ago in Paris, when eating at the Blue Elephant restaurant was a much needed sanctuary from the overbearing Frenchness of everything. I couldn’t believe I was standing of the lawn of this former governor’s mansion and was about to learn to cook like a Blue Elephant chef. Inside, I took some photos of the famed “blue bar” (a long swanky bar backlit by blue light) and one of chef instructors milling about. The four of us there for cooking class moved into the learning kitchen, got our aprons and recipe books, and met our chef instructor. She was friendly enough but I disappointed to learn that she’d spent many of her childhood years in Orange County, CA. The lilt in her voice was more valley girl than Thai. And she launched right into recipe preparation without explaining the array of ingredients that make Thai cooking so unique or the history of the dishes we were about to prepare.

She cooked the first dish - chicken satay, we tasted it, then we were basically left alone to follow the recipe and make our own versions. This drill was repeated for crispy fried fish with sweet and sour sauce, thai noodle salad with chicken and shrimp, yellow curry with beef, and steamed banana cake. When it was all finished we adjourned to the front porch of the restaurant, overlooking the garden, where we were served the food we’d prepared. I was disappointed, a little crestfallen almost, that the lesson had imparted no true knowledge of Thai cuisine. I had a few tasty dishes to show for it but if I hadn’t already learned the secret of great curry at the Chaing Mai school, I probably would have burned the place to the ground. Over the meal I had a nice chat with a young couple from Chicago who had come to Phuket on their honeymoon. They were real foodies who’d eaten at some of the world’s best restaurants and when I told them I’d be going to Nahm in Bangkok on my last night, they informed me that it was the best meal they’d ever eaten, that it was recently rated the #1 restaurant in all of Asia, and that it was the first Thai restaurant in the world to be awarded a Michelin star (this last part I knew). We ate and said our goodbyes and I wandered back through an open air market where purveyors were beginning to fry up street food for dinner to the bus stop. I had heard the last bus to my part of the island ran at 5:30 and it was 5:45.

As I looked around for the bus (which I suspected had already left) I was approached by a taxi driver who offered to take me back to the hotel for 300 Bhat ($10). Pretty reasonable for these parts. I followed him to his vehicle which turned out to me a small moped. I hesitated. I had 3 bags - one filled with leftovers from Blue Elephant, one with my camera, and one large handbag. The driver assured me he would find space for them on the tiny moped. I thought about the accident I’d seen just a few days earlier in Chaing Mai - a moped driver had been hit by a car while making a right turn. We’d seen it happen as we were driving back to town from our cooking lesson and as we passed we noticed that the injured moped driver had a compound fracture - his shin bone was protruding from a hole in his pants. But the driver assured me it was safe and handed me a pink helmet. I hopped on. The ride back was surprisingly fun. It was rush hour and the streets were packed with cars and moped and bicycles weaving around through unmarked lanes. In the distance I saw the “big buddha” one of the main attractions in these big parts. As the name implies - it’s a giant statue of buddha on the top of a hill and as we rode by it was backlit by the setting sun (I wish I’d had the nerve to whip out my camera and take a shot but both hands were passing holding on for dear life). At one red light my driver struck up a conversation with the guy driving the moped next to us. I had no idea if they knew each other or if this was just the kind of thing you did when you stopped at a red light but I couldn’t believe that this guy was carting his whole family on that bike. His young son sat in front of him, secured by the driver’s arms and legs, his young daughter sat behind him, secured by the arms of legs of mom who sat at the back. A practical if perilous way to get around.

Back at the homestead my plan to spend the evening updating my blog was foiled by internet connectivity issues (not a rare occurrence here) so I went to the lobby and checked out a DVD from their collection of aged American block busters. I laid on my bed and ate my Blue Elephant leftovers as Angelina Jolie and Johnny Depp galavanted through Venice, dodging mobsters and the police in The Tourist. The day hadn't been without highlights but overall, it proved the most disappointing day in my Thai adventure thus far. I decided to stop searching for the soul of Phuket and spend tomorrow lounging on the beach. A day in Phuket, I decided, still beats a day at the office hands down. But there are far better places to be out of the office - I know because I’ve seen so many of them on this trip. Adieu Phuket. After tomorrow we will part ways and I do not intend to come this way again.

Culinary Hell - 1.27.15

The strangest and most unexpected thing just happened - I had a bad meal. Not a disappointing meal, not a meal I could have taken or left, but a meal so bad I couldn’t eat it. After a long, hot, emotional day at the elephant sanctuary, I couldn’t muster the energy to head into town so I decided to eat at the hotel restaurant. A nice British couple I’d met on the outing today told me they’d been very disappointed with their meal when they had eaten at the restaurant but I figured they’d just ordered poorly. I ordered well - spicy beef salad starter and Malaysian curry with chicken main. The salad was my worst nightmare - mostly onions (white and green) and tomatoes, topped with “beef” that 90% gristle. I picked out what I could - slivers of julienned carrot and cucumber, a few leaves of lettuce . . I even hunted for and ate every cilantro leaf I could find. I sent back the bulk of the salad chalking my disappointment up to poor ordering. I had fallen into the same trap as that nice British couple. Then came the curry. It looked about right - meat in a curry sauce - but something was amiss from the get go. I noticed that the rice was long grain (think Uncle Ben’s) and not the short, sticky rice you see in Thailand. This restaurant, like many other fine dining establishments in this town, tries to cater to Westerners by serving what they think Westerners want - Eastern food in a Western style. But I have yet to meet one of those poor conflicted souls in Thailand - the Westerners I have met delight in authentic Thai food and expect that is what they will be served, this being Thailand and all. 

I spooned the curry onto the rice and dug in. Then the sadness really set in. The curry had no flavor - no hint of spice or freshness, no complexity or depth. It kind of tasted like ketchup. But far worse than the lack of taste was the quality of the meat - this fine dining establishment had served me nothing but skin and knuckles and gristle. I couldn’t really find anything that seemed edible. This is the stuff I’d trim off and throw away because even my dog won’t eat it. I tried a bite to make sure I wasn’t missing something but struggled to get it down. 

I pushed my plate away and called over the waitress. I told her as kindly as I could that the dish was inedible and asked her to take it away. I expected her to offer me something else or to subtract it from my bill but she just smiled and bowed. She had no idea what I’d said. I might have just explained that I had suddenly decided to go vegetarian or that I received an important call and had to rush back to the US immediately. She brought me the check. 900 Bhat or roughly $30. That’s about 10X what I would have paid for a far superior meal at a local street vendor. I was pissed.

As I walked back to my room I felt angry (and hungry) - not a great combination. I wondered how it was possible that such crap food could be served is such a magical place. I wondered why this hadn’t come to the attention of management months before, how all of the diners before me had shirked their duty to inform the powers that be that this was not acceptable, not here at Rachamankha. As I continued to stew, I noticed that every chandelier in the place is exactly the same - a sort of white fabric cube, edged in brown piping, with a brown tassel hanging from the bottom. When you actually stop and look at them, they’re not pretty. And it seems a fairly sophomoric design choice to simply repeat the same fixture over and over and over again. Back in my room I noticed for the first time that my air conditioner is one of those wall-mounted fixtures you see in old European buildings - effective but an eyesore. Why did they make that choice in such a design-conscious hotel? One bad meal had turned my whole world grey. 

Still hungry but still too tired to head to town, I opened a can of Pringles from the mini bar and hopped into bed. I grabbed my book, read a few pages and drifted off to sleep around 9:00.

Elephant Heaven - 1.27.15

My guide picks me up from the hotel this morning to take me and about 10 others about an hour north outside of town to the elephant sanctuary that people refer to as “elephant heaven.” I’m like a kid on Christmas morning and it feels like my head will explode before we arrive and I ever lay eyes on them. In the van they show us a movie about safety (elephants are really docile until you piss them off - then they can literally crush you with a swipe of their trunk or a kick from one of their massive legs) and another video about the important work this organization, Elephant Nature Park, is doing. A woman named Lek (which I learn means “little” in Thai) started this organization in the late 80’s to rescue elephants from the often tragic fate that befalls them in this country. Thai’s have a very complex relationship with elephants. On the one hand, the elephant is considered a holy and revered animal. One of the most important legacies of a Thai kind is to discover a unique elephant - the last king discovered a while elephant, and the current king discovered the largest elephant ever found. These are things for which they will be remembered. And 90% of Thais are Buddhist so respect for life and never harming another living creature are key tenets of the faith. On the other hand, elephants are expensive to keep. They require lots of land, which is getting hard to come by, and they eat 10% of their body weight in food every day (that’s a few hundred pounds of corn, squash and melons - elephants are vegetarian). In this developing country, elephants must earn their keep. Thais have found a few ways to make keeping elephants profitable and each of them breaks my heart. One way is to use the elephant for tourism. This involves “breaking” the elephant so that it lets tourists ride in little seats strapped to its back. At the park they showed us a video of how elephants are broken and I can’t bring myself to explain it to you. I cried when I saw the recorded footage. Another way is to use elephants for labor. For decades Thailand had a thriving logging trade and elephants were used to haul logs up and down mountains. This one doesn’t seem that unreasonable but many were given amphetamines and worked round the clock. If they faltered they were severely beaten or worse. Thankfully, logging was banned here is 1989 (although it is still alive and well in neighboring Myanmar). 

After our hour long journey through the country side we arrived at the elephant park, a vast expanse of land at what seemed like the edge of the world. The place was teeming with activity. About ten other day tours like ours have arrived, another 75 people who’d volunteered to spend a week working at the park were busily moving about, and the staff of over 70 were hard at work preparing food for the elephants, cleaning up after them, tending to their care. 

Our guide, a sweet middle aged Thai woman, gave us the schedule. First we’d feed the elephants, then we’d visit the park and learn about how it functions, then we’d bathe them, feed them again, and finally walk around the property with them and sit and watch them graze. The elephants lined right up when they saw us on the platform (they’ve grown very accustomed to their schedule) and while my group started feeding them from our basket of watermelons, I pulled out my camera and started shooting. “Kath-a-leen - behind the red line” my guide said. Five minutes in and I’d already broken the first cardinal rule of safety - stay behind the red line when feeding the elephants to avoid being knocked out by an elephant trunk. This was the first of many times throughout the day that my guide would chide me for something. After the feeding (boy can elephants suck down watermelon) we went out in the fields to learn more about the place. There are 43 elephants on the property. Some were brought here when they were retired from the tourist trade, some were purchased from villagers who could no longer afford to keep them, some worked in logging and were brought here when that was banned, some has stepped on land mines and were brought here for rehab, one was brought here when he was orphaned at 4 months after his mother was shot for eating corn from a farmer’s field. This little guy, named Hope, stole my heart. The guide told us he was found wedged between 2 trees deep in the forest. Apparently he’d run for cover when he heard shots fired and remained there for many days with no food and water. He was wedged in there so tightly they had to cut down the trees to get him out. Now he’s a rambunctious 4 year old, getting into everything and annoying the older elephants with his incessant desire to play.

Next we saw the vet area where resident and visiting elephants are treated. There was a volunteer vet from Canada giving an IV to a baby who’d stepped in a trap 2 years earlier. His leg was still swollen from the trauma but my guide told us he gets along just fine. I was fascinated by this place, so thankful that it exists, and desperate to find a way to contribute. My guide told me about how much things have changed, how much more awareness there is in Thailand of how animals should be treated. Yet the economic realities persist. I was confronted again with a fact I have long understood but never really accepted - that prioritizing animal welfare is a luxury enjoyed only in wealthy countries. In most places, animals are still property, a resource their owners to exploit for survival.

We eventually sat down to lunch with all of the other groups - hundreds of us lined up for an amazing vegetarian buffet. I sat down with an american family from LA, there for a week as volunteers. We discussed what an amazing place this was, and how much respect we had for Lek, one little woman who made this all happen and kept it going for nearly two decades. I was desperate to meet her, but she wasn’t around. Next we sat and watched a documentary film about this place. I was happy to see they were getting publicity (apparently this one aired in the US) but it was a tough film to watch. Learning about the lives of these animals before making it to the park was almost more than I could handle. 

Then, the most thrilling part of the day - bath time. It’s important for elephants to bathe daily. If they don’t, they quickly develop skin rashes and sores and other ailments. Here, they are walked to the river by the elephant guides (these guys are amazing - they have built so much trust with these elephants by caring for them so well that those elephants follow them wherever they go) and bathed by the volunteers and visitors. It’s hard to describe the thrill of stepping into the river with those giant animals and splashing them with buckets of water. The young ones shake and paw at the water and make a game of it. The older ones put their ears forward so you don’t forget to wash behind them. After the bath we escort them out to the field where they are fed (again) - this time corn. Did you know that the average elephant spends nearly 18 hours a day chewing? I’m now a fountain of useless elephant factoids. I found a spot in the shade of a tree and laid down and watched them. I decided that if this software thing doesn’t work out, I’m going to move here and work with these amazing creatures. 

It’s finally the end of the day and when we get back in the van for the ride back to town I’m sad to be leaving but so thankful for the experience. We had to stop twice in the long driveway to let elephants pass, and a few more times to let dogs pass (I forgot to mention - the center also cares for over 400 rescued dogs). At one stop I watched a woman play with a child on the steps of one of the cabins. She looked familiar - a lot like Lek who I’d seen in the documentary film earlier. As the van began to roll forward our guide turned around and said “Kath-a-leen - that was Lek!” I looked back and put my hands under under my chin, palms together, and gave her my best Thai bow. She caught my eye, smiled, and bowed back.

One night in Bangkok - 1.25.15

The day started out with a bang. I woke long before sunrise at 5:15. Beating the world awake, even if only out of jetlag, is still a thrill. I feel like I’ve lucked into more quality time on earth. To capitalize on this pocket of time, I downed a cup of coffee and headed to the gym. Just one day into this trip, I’ve already come to expect the kind of service I receive so consistently at the Sukhothai. I was greeted by the gym attendant who handed me a towel, handed me a pair of earphones, and offered to set up my treadmill for me. I declined. I tethered myself to my phone and turned on my running playlist. By 5:45, I was off and running and it felt great. After an invigorating run, I stopped by the bathroom on the way out of the gym. For some reason, during those 45 minutes I started thinking of my schedule, fretting that I wouldn’t have time for breakfast before my 8am pickup for the temples tour I’d scheduled. What started off as such a relaxed morning somehow became rushed. I ran into the stall and dropped my belongings onto the floor - my headphones, my towel, and my phone - oops. It landed on the tile floor face down and when I picked it up I saw the cracked screen. Not just cracked, decimated. There were 5 solid cracks running all the way from top to bottom and a few stretching across the sides. When I swiped to test the phone tiny shards of glass broke off. Miraculously, it still worked but one more jolt and this thing’s a goner for sure. I cradled it in my hand like a wounded baby bird and have been carrying it in a protective pouch all day. This thing has to last through 2 more weeks before I can get it fixed stateside. 

Thankfully, things looked up from there. After a quick shower I headed down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast, not having time to venture outside before my tour. The Sunday buffet breakfast was on and the spread looked marvelous. But at 2800 Bhat (about $92) I decided to go a la carte. I looked at all of the patrons lining up for that hundred dollar buffet and wondered silently how all of these rich, dumb bastards ended up at this hotel. I ordered the first thing that caught my eye - fried rice with blue crab. It arrived in a terrine shape with a side of fish sauce and sliced chiles. Less Breakfast of Champions - more Breakfast of Hedonists - it was so tasty I couldn’t help but let out little moans of joy as I savored each succulent bite. I don’t care if they have roll me out of this country - I am eating my way through it without shame. 

I made it to the lobby at 8 and found my tour guide - Lek. A friendly little woman, about my age, she escorted me to the car where our driver for the day was waiting. He spoke not a word of English but gave me a little bow. We were off through the mad streets of Bangkok which were still uncrowded at this early hour. Lek explained that we’d see three temples and the grand palace, provided traffic allowed. Every few hundred feet we passed a billboard of the king - Rawa. When I asked about them, Lek explained that he was a great man, the longest reigning king of Bangkok and the 9th king from this dynasty. As we wove our way through streets, the scenery turned decidedly local. We passed sad, sagging apartment buildings with large red satellite dishes clinging to windows and balconies. Laundry hung from the rafters of balconies sheltered by corrugated metal roofs. I felt a tinge of guilt, the rich American trolling the town in an air conditioned sedan with her driver and private guide.

We arrived at the first temple, the first temple of King Rawa the first, right in the center of the city. It was practically empty as we removed our shoes and climbed the gilded stairs to enter through solid carved wood doors, stories tall. Inside she explained that this Buddha was a royal buddha - you could tell by the number of tiers on the canopy hanging from the ceiling above him (9). She explained that the murals that covered every inch of the walls told the story of Buddha’s enlightenment (he went into the woods for 4 years and emerged enlightened). A few monks sat on a bench - presumably meditating. Lek explained that it is the highest honor to become a monk and families dream of having their sons enter the monkhood. She said that most men pass through the monkshood before getting married. I thought monkhood was a lifelong commitment but Lek explained that’s not the case. A man can choose how long to stay - 2 weeks, 2 months, the rest of his life - whatever he feels is right for his journey. On the one hand, I found that a copout. Just 2 weeks of quiet contemplation, scant eating, and the donning of an orange robe was all that was required to achieve the highest state of honor? But then I started to understand - Buddhism is a personal journey. That’s the whole point. It is a way to get our of your own head, to engage with the world in a way that is meaningful to you, to shed the here and now of materialism for some higher state of consciousness. I began to really appreciate it. 

From there we went to the major temples, the ones with teeming mobs of tourists shooting pictures. The Temple of the Reclining Buddha was impressive - the building was built to house this golden treasure that about the size of a small city block. On his feet, inlaid with shell, are the key principles and lessons of Thai Buddism. The next was the the Royal Palace - a compound of buildings used for state ceremonies and to house visiting dignitaries (Obama was invited to stay here when he visited but he opted for a hotel instead). Finally, we went to a small quiet temple on the outskirts of town. There were few tourists but we weren’t allowed to enter because a ceremony was taking place - an apprentice monk was becoming a true monk. The monks sat on the altar in a circle praying then listened as this man recited key Buddhist principles (one of the monks in the back appeared to be checking his email on his phone the whole time, which made me laugh). I stood at the back of the temple and captured on film the moment when he exchanges the white apprentice robe for an orange monk robe. I was moved and felt like I got a little glimpse into a secret society. 

We finally broke for lunch and my guide took me to a restaurant she knew well across the street from the royal palace. She said she’d done her schooling next door - apparently guides like her must do paid coursework and receive a degree in order to give these tours. We’d bonded during out walkabout at the royal palace when she asked if why I was traveling alone. When I explained that I was taking advantage of a window of time between jobs and that I decided to come even though my boyfriend had to stay home and work, she admitted she’d thought I was single. She told me she was 37 and hadn’t found “the one” yet (my term, not hers) but at this point all she really hoped for was a “real man, not a lady man” (apparently this is an issue in Bangkok - there’s a pretty thriving gay and trans-gender community). I told her that in my experience, it had been far less lonely to be alone than to be with someone who didn’t make me happy. I urged her to hold out, which made her smile. She was happy to hear that it’s possible to meet someone amazing at our age. By the time we got to lunch, we were laughing like old friends. She ordered for both of us and we shared - green chicken curry and a really simple but delicious stir fry of shrimp, garlic, basil and snow peas.

After pool time and a nap, I ventured out for dinner to a restaurant I’d heard about. It was a local establishment, had been there for years, and prepared traditional “royal” Thai cuisine. I was desperate to try it. I was told it was “a little out of the way” but I drew myself a makeshift map (not having access to Maps in this country) and set out to find it. I walked through what appeared to be the expat area of Bangkok - modern, pristine apartment buildings behind guarded gates and chauffeured Mercedes’ rolling through the streets. Then I entered the night market on Silom Street. This was what I expected - a chaotic mix of stalls, many selling food they were preparing in huge, smoking woks, many selling cheaply made (and priced) clothing, there was even a guy giving a “Sham Wow” demonstration. The streets were filled with people - locals and tourists. When I made my way past the market the streets got quiet. I passed massage parlors and custom clothing shops (apparently they can take your measurements today and deliver you a custom made fine suit tomorrow) and a few dilapidated restaurants. There weren’t many people on the poorly lit streets and I started to feel a little vulnerable so I tucked my purse tightly under my arm and kept walking with purpose so as to not be stopped and asked if I needed directions (that’s when trouble starts). I was nearing my destination - a little road between Soi 16 and 18 when I passed a Hindu temple that appeared to having services at this late hour. Across the street was a little market where a few Thai’s were cutting flowers and lacing them onto strings to make decorations for worshippers (I don’t know if you wear them or bring them as offerings but they’re everywhere in Thailand). Two large dogs, labradors maybe, sat under the table where the flowers were being cut, looking up hopefully as if food would eventually drop off that cutting board. I couldn’t decide if they were owned by these shop owners or just strays (there are tons of stray dogs here). They looked hungry, if not emaciated, and my heart broke a bit as I walked by, wondering if it would be appropriate to buy them something to eat. But I continued. I found the little road I was looking for and turned in. It was even darker on this street and as I walked past what looked like a construction site, a black rat scurried out from under the fence and nearly ran across my toes. I stopped and screamed. My heart was in my throat. This was a dark, decrepit, narrow and empty street and I started to think of all the things that might happen if I continued down it. Someone could jump out of the darkness and attack or kidnap me. A rabid dog could mistake me for its next meal. A rat might fall from the sky and land on my head. There were no signs of this “out of the way” restaurant” so I turned around and hurried back to the main street.

I thought maybe I’d walked too far, had missed the actual turnoff so I doubled back on my path, passing the temple, the flower shop, the dogs that broke my heart. After a few minutes I worried I’d never find this place. I ducked into a hostel and grabbed a little map of the district that was sitting on the counter. I went outside and sat on a bench to examine the map and determine my next move. There were some met outside, sitting on their scooters making small talk. One of them stared at me in a very uncomfortable way. He didn’t look Thai, more Arabic. I caught his eyes them turned away, eager to escape his creepy stare. When I looked back a few minutes later he was still staring. A group of Japanese tourists had gathered and were setting off and I decided to fall in behind them and make my escape. I learned from the map that I hadn’t gone far enough on the main street so I headed back past the temple, the flower shop, the heartbreaking dogs, and the rat-infested construction site and finally stumbled upon the street I sought. It was as dark as the last alley I’d gone down. I was shaken. I decided if this road did not lead to Rome I’d jump in a cab and head back to the hotel. But halfway down between two miserable looking houses there was finally, blessedly, a sign for this restaurant.

Behind the front garden I entered and found a charming, homey space where I was seated at the back next to a large table of Asians. They were speaking English but with an accent I couldn’t place - Hong Kong? Singapore? They discussed the “best white countries” for Asians and surprisingly, the US did not make the list. They settled on Australia. My meal came - a vibrant green curry with a cone of jasmine rice wrapped in a papadum leaf and it was heaven on earth, worth all the trouble. When I’d finished all the meat and vegetables I considered taking the bowl in my hands and drinking what remained of the sauce. I realized a few things tonight. The first is that Thai’s are kings on understatement. If they say a place is “a little out of the way” what they really mean is “you couldn’t find this place with a military-grade GPS device in your pocket.” The second is that curry is like a fingerprint - each one is unique. How many chiles do use in your paste? Do you use white or black peppercorns? Do you cook down your coconut milk before adding the paste (to make a thick, creamy curry) or do you cook the paste first to open up the flavors then add coconut milk as a finisher?

After dinner I grabbed a cab. As we headed back toward the hotel I realized how close I had been all the while. The little street where the restaurant sat was only a 5 minute walk from where I’d started. But I’d gotten turned around in the market, thrown off by the dark streets, shaken up by the creepy man. I decided to stop thinking I could just figure it out by myself, that I would just stumble upon the right path without any help from those in the know. I vowed to ask for help in the future. A good lesson in life.