……. old blog post for Yuki, from my adventures away travelling last year
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Back in Bangkok again
Brush bustling down the Khao San road. Jostled by the endless stream of tourists.
Depressing in their hordes. Feeling part of the great Wilderbeest trek down through south east asia.
Cow Pat Khao San Road
I have grown used to the tatty charms of Nepal, almost tourist free in the chill of January.
But here, oh, oh the heat! A bit like being flopped beneath one of those giant hot towels you get thrust upon you on the airplane. ‘more coffee?’ A teensy snapette of a biscuit and a huge heat steaming hot Flannel!
But the heat in the city is not so cleansing, a great, dirty oppressive heat.
The air bereft of nourishment, all dust and grime.
Mingled nicely with my continual tingle coating of sweat.
Mug swamp hot. Uncomfortable!
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Funny I didn’t mind it so much up at Angkor Wat. Banished by good company!
My mind still stirred by thoughts of the Bayonne, of Katie, of Eva and Martin
my friends! an Austrian Woman and a Slovakian couple.
How we’d hire a Moto, a Tuk Tuk for the day and bomb off to the ruins. A cool breeze as we whisked along on the road through the jungle, mostly laughing.
And yes …the Bayonne, a miracle, a temple with over 200 sculptures of the Buddha Alokoshivetas head
Each carved 12 feet high. They are positioned so that wherever you sit amidst the ruins, at least one of them is staring at you and others, in profile or perched beakily at angles.
Like being in a stone, crazy, hall of mirrors
Panopticon.
The all seeing eye
But somehow, really calm. I shut my eyes, now and still clearly see that face, the calm expression, a tease of a half smile. the promise of gentleness. In stone. In me. Forever
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In Bangkok, slumped beneath a twirling helicopter of a fan. Sipping an ice coffee.
My torso pockmarked with bites, machine gun riddled, as itchy as fuck.
Kel, she says they’re from bed bugs. yeucchh.
Relax don’t struggle against the tide of tourists, enjoy it for just what it is
gawp, hopefully not too noticeably, at the girls, a pageant of passing beauty. Both Tourists and the Thais. sigh. joy
But to escape the heat, hop on a tourist boat, the splash, the slap and giggle gurgle of water beneath the prow.
Away, downstream past the huge megalopolis of buildings and swank of brand new sky scrapers.
then on the Sky Train and along to
Siam Square
The biggest shopping center in all Bangkok. a palace of AIR CONDITIONING
Hurrah! Acres and acres of cool
Inside everywhere are fountains and walls of water
up, high on the fourth floor is a Mercedes Showroom. Dozens of cars, Shiney beasts.
How did they get there, somehow winched in? Flown up, to it’s nest by a giant metal eagle? Rok
down in the basement is a pool full with Water Lilys and Lotuses, where enormous Coy Carp and goldfish loiter.
I spend hours in the oriental food section of the supermarket. Free tasters. yum.
A meal from just absent minded grazing
exotic weirdly coloured chutneys which i daub on crackers
next debating the differing merits of a handful of spicey peanuts versus four dried strawberries. hmmm. yum. maybe
We all enjoy the tipple of the conniseur. the contemplative grimace of the gourmand
Too much I’ve got a tummy ache!
Later, the serene swan glide on the up escalator, snoop around a bit, then drift back down on the next down escalator. I could pllay on them all day! My own imagined Prozac Muzak playing in my head.
Super Smooothe
The gentle drift: hither, then thither. Like at the beach, a calm, toe tickling, lap lapping tide.
Up in the loft is an Imax cinema, a ten pin bowling alley. everywhere gaggles of thai teenagers
just out and about. like me, having a fine day
Goodness Gothness Gracious, some of them, mostly in black, with smeared down hairdos are even Emo’s!
A parade of Gucci, Yves San laurent and Dolce and gabbana boutiques.
each displaying one garment and gaurded by a very snooty, frosty shop person.
yeah yeah check out boy.
Finally though i settle in the wedding section
There is a big banner which proclaims ‘We are in Love’
nearby a carousel of mannequins dressed in wedding dresses spins slowly, around and around.
Gently Surreal
There is a 3 piece band, live, in tuxedos
with a hammond organ and much plinkety plonking they churn out songs of embarrasing, syrupy Romantic Noodling
There are row upon row of seats. All empty. I sit there all alone.
Pathos, In the Palace of Romance. beneath the banner ‘We are in Love’
solitary, forlorn and greatly entertained
They finish their set, a little bow.
I applaud. bravo. well done. encore!