GOLDEN THAI Elysse Hurtado Once upon a time, I saw a girl wearing shirt that said, “Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go to Bangkok.” Pondering the message, I wondered just how “bad” the city really was. Well, after having visited Bangkok myself, I can tell you: the t-shirt was a strikingly accurate prophecy. There was more than one occasion I found myself recalling its message and wondering just how bad I’d been. It all began with the flight in, which dropped me in Bangkok just 6 hours after I had originally intended. With trains ceasing at midnight, I found myself stranded at Makkasan Station, with only a motley crew of delinquent cab drivers and renegade tuk-tuks for company. Coating myself with an armor of self-determination, I marched out into the 28 degree evening air and found myself a cab, who not only acknowledged my destination (“Hua Lamphong? …yes, get in!”) but promptly turned on the meter (“Meter! Meter!”) when I asked the price. Could things be turning around?
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Not just yet. Speeding along the darkened Thai highways, the taxi driver whipped out his cellphone and began talking excitedly. I, of course, understood not a word. Not that it bothered Mr. Taxi Driver. Still driving, he forcefully proffered the phone to me, continuing to shower me in Thai. “Oh god,” I thought with a sinking stomach, “I’ve been kidnapped.” Forcing out a stifled, “Hello?,” I was shocked to find the voice on the other end reply in perfect English. It was a woman. “So, where do you want to go?” she casually asked, “I’ll tell him for you.” “Hua Lamphong train station,” I said. Twice. Sadly this inspired nothing in my taxi driver. If this was Japan, now would be the time for the taxi driver to let out an exasperated “Eh?!.” Instead, he continued to speed down the highway to a destination unknown. Pulling into a gas station, he abruptly stopped and jumped out the car. Exasperated in the back seat, I watched on with a sick horror as he frantically ran the perimeter of the service station, asking everyone he could find if they knew my hotel, waving my reservation as he did. And still nothing. A good twenty persons, two hours and 150baht later, we finally arrived. Welcome to Bangkok. Luckily, this proved to be something of a storm before the quiet. Other than it being a sweltering 39 degrees every day, turning me into a human waterfall, and the inability to eat any food that wasn’t fried or boiled (I’ve had enough foodpoisoning on vacation, thank you), the days passed in a soothing haze that slowly settled my spirits and provided the mirror for reflection on so many things that I had desperately needed. First and foremost, I made sure to ride the express boats plying the milky-green Chao Praya river, watching their intrepid operators leaping to the docks and back at every stop, revelling in the wind that scorns the streets of Bangkok to blow whitecaps into the water, and enjoying the sense of community with the other foreigners aboard. Through my many rides up and down the river I met people of all ages and nationalities and we shared backgrounds, travel tips and jokes, brought together by a loose mesh of camaraderie and convenience that added just that extra bit of sparkle to the day.