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Hey Eric. Out here in Bangkok we sweat like you would not credit and the only way to avoid all the hawkers and touts, and to breathe, is to dive into one of the numerous e-mail places which have sprung up around the backpacking area of Bangkok like nettles in a Scoutmaster's paddy field. I'd pay that much for some cool air relief alone. The sky is always ominous and overcast and I cannot understand why the people do not riot and run amok whenever they see a white face or stray dog. I feel sorry for the strays, they howl throughout the night and pant harshly through the day - and I don't even like the fucking animals... Yesterday, we visited the Grand Palace which was covered in enough gold to feed centuries of slaves and villagers. It made me angry in an obscure way - although I was pleased to see people crawling all over it. (At 125 Bart a time, it'd be enough to buy another gold Buddha every couple of weeks.) But the people to space ratio was fine, even if we did worry about our shoes... The day before, myself and Charlotte rashly booked ourselves on a package jungle tour, which benefits Thailand's second class citizens - the ones they won't recognise and give land rights to (some things are constant the world over), the Tibetans. We booked it via a Tibetan who refused to stand with everyone else when the national anthem was played in the railway station, and told us we didn't need to. The tour includes opium and white water rafting, bareback elephant riding and 30 hour treks through deepest darkest bandit territory. Plus, overnight accommodation in a bamboo hut. Joking? I think not. Well, maybe partly... Today, a/c is still blessed - and we visited a teak mansion and the zoo, where turtles ate out of my hand and we almost walked straight into a lion's den. It was idyllic for at least three minutes, an oasis of calm in a desert of noise. I have dripped every hour of the day and every minute of the night, and as I type this, my shirt has changed colour several times - from salt line white to dark blue to wet light blue again. Both of us were given tiny acrid oranges by the Thai tour guide at the mansion who obviously thought Charlotte elegant. Now we're listening to bad electronic music played through a computer like it's meant to aid digestion. First day, our guide from the airport told Charlotte she would need to tie my hands together with rope to stop me running off with the women down the Pattpong: I didn't believe her, but maybe I should have... it wasn't the women who exerted the pull, more the touts trying to grab my arm away from Charlotte. Two days time, we move to Thailand's second largest city, Chiang Mai, which at least has the benefits of having mountains nearby, and perhaps even some green. The tuk tuks are great here, if you don't mind washing the blood and grime off your belly afterwards. What's a tuk tuk? Imagine a Go Kart, only 50 times faster, and with even less protection against the slow-crawling traffic which breathes its fumes into your face everywhere you cough... What else? We saw an elephant rise up on its haunches and sadly miss all the people laying down in front of its tender paws. We saw so many fingernail dances that my haunches ached for years afterwards (we wondered if the girl whose nail flew off was summarily flogged afterwards), and we've been ripped off by one too many "official" tour packages already. (One is one too many: they say avoid unscrupulous touts who'll try to sell you their brother's dowry, then the official touts try to do precisely the same, and lock the doors.) The further up the river you go, the less Western faces you see. It's like there's an invisible line they won't cross. The day before, Charlotte bought two pairs of baggy trousers for the price of three, and yesterday I sweated like a Westerner in blue jeans. We would bargain further, but it's much too hot - and the easiest way to haggle is to storm off offended straight as they speak to you. Which is a shame, if only cos we're not a rude people by nature. I must depart now to go fuck another taxi driver. ET |
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