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.
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