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Travel Writers: Bangkok in 24 Hours by Nadia
Gomes
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Location: Bangkok, Thailand, Southeast Asia
Bangkok dances like a flamboyant starlet, yet my roommate
and I only have 24 hours to spend with her. Her streets flicker
like fireworks, twisted amidst the exhaust of colorful tuk-tuks.
Grinning, money-hungry youngsters are eager drivers and pollution
stings our eyes and nostrils. The spicy attitudes of market
vendors are captivating – cajoling, convincing, and grabbing.
Locals race and tourists gaze. Markets swell and dance-clubs
pound.
Within the skinny alleys of Pat Phong throbs the heart of
Bangkok’s legendary nightlife. Effervescent markets surround
the notorious red-light zone, and beckoning vendors are perched
upon stacks of exotic merchandise. Sparkling, tie-dyed fabrics
and sarongs are embroidered with gold, and flowered paper
lamps dangle amidst intricate wooden carvings and souvenir
t-shirts. Meager yellow light bulbs illuminate the restless
scene. |
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My roommate, Tara Boatness (left), and I in front of the
Palace
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Glimpses through curtained doorways reveal flashing stage
lights and screaming music. Juvenile pimps rush from all directions.
“You want look-ie? Come, take free look-ie! See ping
pong?” The cards in their hands show language-barrier-breaking
visuals. Sketches show dancers with ping-pong balls shooting
from unexpected orifices. Gyrating lingerie-clad girls who
seem younger than us wink through excessive cosmetics, and
the disturbance of eye contact is stunning. Worlds apart in
so many ways, it is difficult to read their emotions. |
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In reverberating shock, we bargain for some souvenirs. Tangy
pad-thai and spring rolls are swallowed with copious ice water
at a café, and we retire to our guesthouse to prepare
for an early rising.
Our breakfast includes a plethora of fruit, some toast,
and fresh orange juice. We devour juicy papayas and mangoes,
and crunch on black-seeded dragon fruit. When the first aggressive
tuk-tuk approaches the guesthouse, we head straight for the
Grand Palace. As we zip through the chaotic streets, the sun
beats mercilessly and the dust flies; we bury our noses in
our t-shirts.
Clad in capri pants and tank tops, we violate the Palace
dress code. From a selection of tourist lends, we don multi-colored,
bag-like, ankle-reaching skirts, and regretfully yank sweaters
over our roasting heads. In the overwhelming heat, our exploring
is done with haste. The shiny rooftops are ornately gilded
in dark reds and greens, and edged with sparkling gold. Perfectly
trimmed shrubs flank the entrances to various temples. Rifle-bearing
Thai guards are as still as the stone Hindu warriors frozen
in battle. |
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A glimpse between the buildings of Bangkok's Royal Palace
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We ride on overwhelming tuk-tuk exhaust to Dusit Zoo where
we fail to find the elephants that we seek. Tourism pangs
then propel us across town to shopping markets in Chit Lom
and Banglamphu. We stop to explore some roadside wats, and
gaze in contemplation at the many monks. Orange and red fabrics
cover their young bodies beneath shaved heads as they chat
on cellular phones.
We retrieve our bags from the guesthouse and hail a cab
to Bangkok’s airport. The interior is plastered with
photos of the cabby posing in worldly tourist destinations.
The globetrotter chats with us.
“Which plane you take to Samui?”
We reply, “Bangkok Airways.”
He clucks his tongue. Tsk, tsk.
“A few years ago…” he begins. He holds a hand
in the air like a plane and with a swift whistling sound,
draws a beeline to his lap. Outside the cab, torrential rainfall
commences loudly. My roommate and I exchange uncertain glances
and head for Ko Samui amidst excitement and anxiety. |
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Text © Nadia Gomes 2004, All Rights Reserved
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