Chapter 1: Bangkok

                             

                               

Part-A:  Finding the nest

“I hope that is just cough syrup” I thought as I watched, from backseat of the taxi cab, the driver take gulps from a small bottle. He would keep it inside his jacket after every gulp, which made it look suspicious. It was 2 am and since the roads were empty, we were speeding away without any problems. It was drizzling outside and the Bangkok skyline in the distance, which occasionally glowed due to the thunder, looked spooky.

The driver put on some Thai music and started singing along. I didn’t know whether to smile, clap or sing along, so I decided to just look out the window and curse myself on booking a flight that landed in Bangkok this late at night.

Minutes passed by, as we entered the Siam area and soon enough, we reached my hostel, Lub D Bangkok. As I carried my rucksack up to the door of the hostel, I took a quick glance backwards at the taxi cab, and saw the driver standing there, in the rain, looking at me.

He gestured with his hand. He wanted me to keep going. I guess, he just wanted to make sure I had no problems checking in. I smiled and went inside the glass doors. A young girl greeted me and asked if I already have a booking. I showed her the booking confirmation and passport.

“304A. 2^nd floor.” She said, handing me an electromagnetic card, which was the key to the room.

I looked out the glass doors and saw the driver still standing there. I showed him the card and gave him a thumbs up.

The girl behind the counter chuckled.

“I don’t know why he is still standing there in the rain.” I said.

“He either wants some tip or wants to take you sightseeing tomorrow.” She said, still smiling.

“Or maybe he is just drunk and wants me to drive him home.”

I made my way into my room on the second floor. It was a nice clean dorm with two bunk beds. Thankfully, I was alone in the room. I quickly put my bag in the steel almirah, took out some clean clothes and went for a quick shower.

It was 3 am, by the time I got freshened up and decided to head back downstairs and look for some food.

A few hundred meters down the road, right next to the sky walk leading to the National Stadium MTR, was Marina HK, a restaurant which served all sorts of Thai and Chinese delicacies, and most importantly, it was open 24 hours. I walked along the side walk, dodging the big rats that dwell in the drains by day and hunt for food  at night.

“One chicken noodle soup and a coke.” I placed my order. The Thai waitress quickly noted down the order and left.

The restaurant was quite big, and well maintained. There was a TV on the wall that was showing some Thai music videos. To my left was the juice bar, which served everything from carrot to tomato juices.

To my right, there was a table where three locals were sitting, chatting loudly, occasionally bursting out in laughter. Their table was full of half eaten plates of food. Even though, there were wearing bandanas and had tattoos, they didn’t seem threatening. Hell, they looked pretty friendly. Still, to play it safe, I decided to not make any eye contact with them. After all, it’s Bangkok.

 I got up early the next day, thanks to my new roommate. It was 6.30 am. I shift to the side and fell asleep again without even looking at him.

By 10 am, I was ready to go out and have my breakfast. I read the name tag on the bed next to mine. His name was Damien and the bed was booked till the next day. I couldn’t see him anywhere, but I did see a Robert Downey Junior Autobiography on his bed. “What a loser!” I thought.

Outside, there was chaos. Buses, cars, trucks, bikes, all honking at the same time, sidewalks were crowded with hawkers, and street food vendors. Right next to our hostel was a convenience store and right next to the store was a small, old restaurant ran by a lady in her late 40s and her daughter.

I took a seat facing the road outside, and ordered a pad thai and some coffee. One can easily go to the Mc Donald’s near the MBK mall, a few hundred meters away from where I sat, but I have had enough burgers and French fries on this trip already.

Recommendations

1. A dorm bed in Lub D Bangkok costs 550 Bahts on weekdays and 600 Bahts on weekends. The beds can be booked online at www.booking.com or the hostel’s website. The hostel hosts parties for the guests from time to time. The hostel also has a mini theatre and a small collection of books, of all genres, for their guests.
2. Marina HK is not only open 24 hours but also serves a wide variety of food at extremely good prices.
3. Staying at the Siam area is good only if you do not intend to venture out late in the night, as there are not many options within walking distance after 1.00 am. However, you can always hail a cab and head to other parts of the city.
4. Evenings at Siam are enjoyable. Street markets, malls, food, drinks and entertainment. One can also check out Sukhumvit, Nana, Asok areas for similar stuff.

 

Part B- Seeing Bangkok

After breakfast, which cost me just 40 Bahts, I crossed the road and caught a red bus, thanks to a very friendly local, to China town. It cost me just 3 Bahts and the lady conductor smiled at me when she realised a foreigner has boarded her bus.

China town was busy. There were street vendors selling dried fishes, tropical fruits, Chinese jewelleries, electronic goods and clothes. Every shop had a different smell, some good, and some just plain out nasty.  The Chinese street food, which included fish, chicken, frogs, seemed exciting too. I roamed from street to street, stopping for a drink every now and then at the numerous 7-11s in the area, to escape the sticky humidity. Few blocks away was a narrow passage which was crowded with shops selling every day to day items like vegetables, groceries etc. There were people haggling the prices with the shopkeepers. This felt like the real China town.

Back at Siam square, there was another place that I really wanted to visit. It was the Jim Thompson’s house. You can find out more about him and his life here  (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim_Thompson_%28designer%29). It is a beautiful property with lush gardens with a variety of plants. The house is made of wood, and we visited the rooms where Mr. Thompson used to live. The guides, dressed in white traditional Thai dresses, told us about his likes, his dislikes, his achievements, and why he chose to live in Thailand. The thing that interested me the most, however, were the various theories about his disappearance. 

The rest of the day was spent in the air conditioned malls of MBK, Siam Paragon and Siam World, including a very enjoyable visit to the Ocean World. It was 7.00 pm when I decided to go back to the hostel and take a shower.

“Hello, I am Damian.” He was standing near his bed, digging through his bag for something. He was a short guy with a headful of curly  orange hair.

“Hi,I am Arpan. Where are you from?”

“Spain. You?”

“India.”

During the course of the conversation he told me how it was his first day in Asia and he has already been scammed by more than 340 Euros that day by the notorious tuk tuk drivers.

“I want to do some diving.” He told me, in his thick Spanish accent, when I asked him why he chose to visit Thailand. He was leaving for Ko Tao early next morning.

“Are you going out?” He asked me when I came back from my shower.

“Yeah… I am going out to eat. Want to come?”

“Do you know any good place around?”

“I don’t, but I know the Food Hall at Siam Paragon is pretty nice. There is also a decent place called Marina HK right down this street.”

He quickly put on a shirt and few minutes later we were strolling down the busy sidewalks of the Siam Square. It was around 9 pm and there were make shift shops selling clothes, cosmetics and accessories.

I watched as Damien bought a few pirated DVDs. He was overcharged, mainly because he didn’t bargain.

“You know you should try and bargain a bit here.” I told him as he joined me with a packet full of DVDs. The lady selling some Thai street food asked us to move along. We were blocking the others.

“I know I should but I don’t know how to. I have never done it in my life.”

We crossed the road and entered the Siam Paragon Food Hall. I bought a food card and recharged it with 500 Bahts.

“This one is on me.” I said when he tried to pay the cashier.

“The beer is on me then.” He said with a smile.

We roamed around the food counters looking at different choices. The Siam Paragon Food Hall offers a variety of cuisines from all over the world. It is definitely the place to be in Bangkok if you are hungry.

I ended up buying some ramen with shrimps, and he chose to have some Thai beef noodles.

“So, how long are you here.. In Thailand?” I asked him. Next to our table sat a group of locals, in their formals. They seemed to be in a hurry to finish up with the food. 

“Three weeks. I took some time off from work to come here. My friends came here last year and they loved it.” He took a quick spoonful from his plate and continued, “How long will you be here in Bangkok?”

“I don’t know exactly. But I have tickets to Phuket after five days. I want to visit Pattaya before leaving though.”

During the meal, we decided to head to the Walking Street in Sukhumvit, located near the Asok train station. The street was about 250 meters long and it was filled with sleazy looking Go-Go bars with pink neon lights and clichéd names. There were girls outside each bar, wearing a lot of make up, and weird dresses, and being extra friendly to bring in more and more customers. Every now and then you would see some Indian salesman trying to sell you some counterfeit watches.

We decided to sit outside the bar and ordered a couple of Chang Beers. Some football match was being shown on the television set near the counter. Damien seemed to be a football fan because he wasn’t even blinking. Next to our table sat three aged white guys. Two of them were talking to each other while the third seemed more interested in the girl outside our bar. A couple of minutes later, he called her over and bought her a drink.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Damien asked me. We were on the train back to our hostel.

“I am going to check in at some Khao San Road hotel and visit the Royal Palace and the Reclining Buddha.”

“Royal Palace is beautiful. Are you travelling alone or someone will join you soon?”

I wondered if I should answer this question truthfully. I mean, I don’t even know this guy.

“My friends might join me in Phuket.” I lied. I was travelling alone. I wondered if I was being overly cautious.

A station came and a middle aged guy rushed in and took the seat next to mine. He was sweating and breathing heavily. He quickly plugged in his ipod and closed his eyes. I guess he could feel the cold hard stares from all the other passengers.

That night while we were sitting in the lobby of the hostel, watching TV, Damien decided that he will postpone his trip to Ko Tao and come with me to Pattaya. We decided to spend the next day in Khao San Road, doing nothing. He needed to take some time off from getting scammed.

Recommendations:

1. Apart from the places mentioned above, one can also head out on day drips to Ayuthaya or Hua Hin.
2. Tour agents often have half day tours of floating markets which can be quite interesting for a traveller.
3. If you are an animal lover, try checking out Bangkok Safari Park which is a bit outside the city but very enjoyable. Another good option is to visit the Dushit Zoo, where you can see the animals up close.

 

Part C- Khao San Road, Wat Pho, Scams and Chang Beer…and Fake IDs

 “Check this out.” Damien told me, handing me a piece of paper. I unfolded the paper to find some indecipherable Thai characters written on it.

“What is this?”

“That’s how we will get to Khao San Road without spending thousands of Euros.” He chuckled. Deep down I had a feeling he wasn’t actually joking.

So, we checked out from our hostel , got on the train to Saphan Taksin station, took a boat through the Chao Phraya river, walked for a bit to reach the 200 meter road, filled on both sides with shops, pubs and restaurants, more famously known as Khao San Road.

“Do you care to make a donation?” said a bald white guy, dressed like a monk. He apparently renamed himself as Sanjay and worked for the Iscon Temple, in India.

“I live in India.  I will contribute when I go back home.”

Sanjay looked a bit disappointed and then left after a polite goodbye.

“That’s the one, right next to the 7-11.” Damien said pointing out our hotel, Khao San Palace Inn.

After a smooth check-in, we decided to go up to the rooftop pool and restaurant for some drinks. The pool was small but quite clean. After a quick drink, I decided to go sightseeing and Damien decided to hang back at the poolside and chill.

After looking at the Bangkok map I decided to walk to Wat Pho. Royal Palace and Wat Arun didn’t seem far off either. It was pretty hot, so I decided to buy some water for the road.

“Do you want a suit?”  A middle aged Indian guy said. Then he glanced down at my feet and saw my slippers. “Dude, you need some shoes too!”  He looked like a tout, maybe even a scammer. I shook my head and kept on walking.

As I was crossing the road to the Grand Palace complex, a local waved at me from a distance. I stopped as he walked briskly towards me. He was short, looked middle aged and was wearing a purple shirt.

“Hi. How are you?” He asked me. He had a round face and a very friendly smile. “Are you from Malaysia?”

“No. I am from India.”

“Oh! You look Malaysian. My friend lives in India. Where are you going now?”

“Wat Pho and Royal Palace.”

He quickly glanced at his watch and said, “Royal Palace is not open now. And the afternoon ceremony is going on in Wat Pho. Closed for visitors.”

I knew where he was going, thanks to my pre-trip research about Bangkok.

“I’ll get you a tuk-tuk and he will take you to see the big Buddha, bigger than Wat Pho. For just 20 Bahts!”

“No thanks, I guess I’ll just wait for Wat Pho to open.” I walked away.

Surprisingly, Wat Pho was open and after buying a ticket, 100 Bahts including a bottle of water, I entered the temple. The reclining Buddha was long, golden, and intricately carved. The atmosphere inside the complex wasn’t exactly serene, thanks to the visitors who were clicking away pictures on their flash-cams, but I felt the holy-ness in the air, if I can call it that. There were small metal pots where visitors were donating one Baht coins. The trick was to have enough of those coins to donate in every one of the pots. Overall, I loved Wat Pho. I sat at the foot of the entrance for a while, sipping on my bottle of water, taking it all in.

I came to know about Wat Pho in “The Beach”, when in the first scene the lead character, played by Leonardo Di Caprio was shown standing near the Reclining Buddha.  Actually that movie was responsible in a lot of ways for my trip to Thailand, and for my stay in Khao San Road that night. Khao San Road was where Caprio met the French couple and also found the map to “The Beach”.

Not far away from the Wat Pho is the Grand Palace. The huge complex is dotted with buildings, which were once ministries, meeting rooms etc. Roaming around from room to room, each with its splendid designs and decorations was great fun.

Just a short boat ride away was Wat Arun. The only thing that I found exciting about the temple apart from the amazing view of the river is the climb up to the top of the central tower. The steps are narrow and small and it is quite scary trying to get up there. But once you do get up there, it is a sweet feeling, and I am not just talking about the view from up there. It is quite satisfying to stand on top of the tower and watch the others have a hard time climbing to the top.

It was dark by the time I got back to the hotel. As I made my way to the reception to complain about the faulty cable, I quickly glanced at Damien’s Room. It was locked.

After a painfully conversation with the receptionist, who seemed more interested in reading her book than listening to my problems, I took a seat at one of the many food stands on the Khao San Road and asked for pad thai and a big bottle Singha Beer. There were three small plastic tables laid out on the sidewalk and apart from mine, only one of the other two was occupied by a group of guys.They had long curly hair, incredibly colourful t-shirts and baggy pants. Apart from a few words once in a while, there were mostly silent. Judging from the number of beer bottles, and empty plates in the vicinity of their table, it seemed that they had been here for a while. Once in a while someone will enter the 7-11 adjacent our table, and the air conditioned air would cool us off for a second or two.

“Cheap fake IDs?”

The offer sounded interesting. I looked around. A small Thai guy, maybe in his teens, dressed in blue jeans and a bright red shirt brought out  a folder with all sorts of Ids. I did a quick scan and there were fake American Driving Licenses, Student Ids, Passports, a lot of other similar stuff. They looked pretty real.

“Very cheap for you my friend. How many you want?”

“How much?”

“Come to my shop. We talk. Can’t sell here.”

“Why?”

 “Asshole.” He said pointing to the owner of my food stall.

“Well, how far is your shop?”

“No shop my friend. I stand over there.” He was pointing towards a pirated DVD stand.

“Fine, I’ll be over there in a bit. But you have to give me a good price.”

I quickly finished up my food and paid my bills. The whole road of Khao San was lit up. There were more shops than I had seen in the morning. Live music was being played in many of the pubs, there were lots of people in the shops, all of them tourists and travellers, and  the weather was a lot better.

Sure enough, the guy was standing near the shop. He took me to the side of the shop where it was a bit more secluded. “What you want?”

“What do you have?” He handed me the whole catalogue of Ids. I thought it would be cool to have a Freelance Journalist Id, it may get me to places where normal people can’t go. I also picked a Student ID.

“What college?” He asked.

“I can pick any college?”

He smiled and nodded. “Yes!”

“Oxford.” I don’t settle for anything less than the best when it comes to fake Ids.

He asked for a couple of passport size pictures and asked me to write my name and other details on a piece of paper.

“So, how much for two?”

“500 Bahts.”

“No!” I was not spending 500 Bahts for some silly Ids.

“How much you pay?”

“100 Bahts.”

He laughed. “For one?” He was trying to make me look crazy.

“For two.” I said. He laughed harder.

“Can’t do my friend. Look at these Ids. They look real. No one will know they are fake.”

“Yes, they look nice but I won’t pay more than 100 bucks for both.”

“100 Dollars?”

“100 Bahts. Nice try dude.”

This went on for about 10 minutes, before we decided on the final price. 180 Bahts for two Ids. He asked me to come after an hour to collect them.

“Pay now. I give your Ids in an hour. ”

“No, I pay when you give me my Ids.”

“No. You pay now and I go and make your Ids. Ok?” He was looking a bit frustrated now. I have been negotiating about everything. “What if don’t come back. What will I do with your Ids?”

“Why would I run away? That is my hotel right there. And what if you run away with my money? You don’t  even have a shop.”

“Fine. 150 bahts now. Rest later.”

This went on for a while and finally I ended up paying 100 Bahts upfront. He didn’t look very happy with me bargaining so much but it had to be done.

 “Make it look real.” I told him before he dashed off to the back of the DVD shop. I saw him handing over my details to another guy. It was 8.30 p.m. and I decided to go look for a ride to Pattaya the next morning. I thought Damien and I were going there together but he was nowhere to be seen.

 

I walked down the road past the small guys wearing red suits and Turkish hats, handing out fliers to some party. I am sure it was just another Khao San Road scam, or maybe not. I wasn’t handed a flier. I walked past a small ill-lit narrow staircase, right beside the massage parlours where old white ladies were getting foot massages. You could hear some really nice live guitars being played. I saw the sign. Rooftop Cafe.

I slowly and steadily got up the stairs and took a seat at the corner and ordered a drink. the whole place was actually just a rooftop with a lot of tables and chairs and a makeshift bar. You could order food too, just that they will run to the nearest restaurant and get it for you.  There was a small platform and  on that platform was a stool where a white guy, maybe in his early thirties, was playing a guitar and singing some popular hippie songs. The weather was great and the easy atmosphere of the place really felt relaxing. Every now and then, a guest will go up and try their hand at the strings. The chaos of Khao San Road, which was just downstairs, seemed far away.

“Finally.. Where the hell have you been?” Damien said as he grabbed a seat and clumsily sat next to me, almost knocking my beer off the table. I would have offered him some, but he already had a bottle in his hand.

“I have been back since evening. Didn’t see you anywhere.. What were you? What did you do all day?”.

“Oh.. I made a couple of friends, and they are taking us to a club tonight. I hung out with them all day right here in Khao San Road. This place is amazing. Wish I came here earlier. None of that Siam bullshit.”

“We are going to Pattaya tomorrow aren’t we?” I was confused. “Don’t tell me you changed your mind. Khao San Road isn’t the real Thailand. It’s down south.”

“Well, I heard Pattaya is just one big Khao San Road. If you want to go south, let’s go south. But until the time comes, I would like to stay right here.” 

Some Thai guy walked by our table and silently mouthed something to us. I couldn’t figure it out.

“Selling weed.” Damien announced with the confidence of a scholar.

It was 12.30 am by the time we were done with the place. I was sleepy and wanted to start early tomorrow for Pattaya.

“I am going back to my room. If you want to go to Pattaya be ready by 6 am.”

“You’re fucking kidding me? We are going to the club, man. Let’s get something to eat.” Damien was drunk and furious. “I owe you one buddy for bringing me to this place.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be in Ko Tao?” It was late but still everything was lit up, the music was still on, the booze was flowing. It was pretty festival-y.

“I rather have another round of beer… and some food. Let’s go there!” He was pointing towards a sports bar and it was stuffed with people.

“You know what, I will meet you there. I’ll just go to my room and take care of a few things.”

“Alright, see you in a bit.” Damien said as he walked into the sports bar.

I knew I wasn’t coming back out that night. I just felt rude saying no to him. Khao San Road is enjoyable, I’ll give it that but I didn’t want to spend another day here. I wanted to see a beach, and Pattaya is the nearest one.

————————————————————————————————————————————–

Bang! Bang! Bang!

It was 2.00 am and I was deep in my sleep.

“Yo! Open up… Are you with a girl or something?” Bang! Bang! Bang!

I didn’t know this guy for two days and he was already being a pain in the ass. Needless to say, it was Damien banging on my door.

I got up, put on a t-shirt, and washed my face, as the banging got louder and faster.

I opened the door to see Damien standing there with a girl. She was not very tall, wore glasses and looked a bit Asian.

“What the fuck, man! I was waiting for you at the bar…”  Damien was standing on her side, almost leaning on her.

“I fell asleep.” I told him truthfully.

“Really.. you came to your room and boom, you fell asleep.” Damien said as he pushed me aside to enter my room. The girl followed him in. I again did the math in my head recalculate how many days I’ve known Damien. “Your TV doesn’t work!” Damien shouted.

“What do you want, man!” I asked as nicely I could. Part of me wanted to throw him out and punch him in the face, the other part knew, me getting my ass kicked by a drunken Spaniard wasn’t the solution.

“We are going to The Club.” The girl said, as Damien was busy fixing my TV. “Hi,I am Nes. We met Damien earlier today.”

“Hi, I am.. “

“Arpan from India. I know you from all the curses Damien was hurling at you all the way to your room.”

“Fucking wear some decent party clothes and lets goooooooooooo!” Damien was clearly very drunk.

“I don’t have party clothes.” I never really bought any party clothes in my life. Always showed up in casuals. I guess this wasn’t one of those parties.

“It’s okay.. wear whatever you want…just hurry up” Nes said.

I quickly got into something clean and comfortable and soon, we were out of the hotel.

As we were walking down the road, which was a lot quieter now, someone called us from the other side of the road. It seemed like he was coming towards me.

“I knew you would run away. You owe me 100 Bahts.” It was the guy with the fake IDs. I totally forgot about him.

“Not 100, 80… Where are my Ids”

“No..100 Bahts. You owe me 100 Bahts for 2 Ids.”

It was late and I didn’t want to get into another argument. So I gave him the money and he handed me an envelope with the Ids. I checked them, they looked good.

“Whoaaa… I want one of those..” Damien said as he looked at my Oxford students identity card.

“Come tomorrow. Today shop closed.” The little guy left.

“Are you sure he is going to be okay tonight at the club?” I asked Nes. Damien didn’t look very together.

“I don’t know. But the place isn’t far away from here. We will find out soon.” She laughed.

Nes was from Singapore. She was travelling here in Thailand with some of her friends, whom we were going to meet at the club.

The Club was right in the middle of the Khao San Road. It had a big board with a pink neon light on the outside. The door of the club was being guarded by five or six big Thai men. We could hear the thumping music being played inside from entrance. We entered the club and immediately I was introduced with four of Nes’s friends, all of them boys. I forgot their names as soon as I heard them. I watched as they hit the dance floor. Me and Damien ordered a couple of beers. He gave the bartender a 1000 baht note. The bartender gave him change for a hundred. Damien looked confused. I was sure he was thinking whether he really gave that 1000 baht note or was that just a drunken haze.

“We would need another 900 Bahts. We gave you a 1000.” I said to the bartender when I was sure Damien wouldn’t be able to figure it out on his own.

“Take it later after you guys are done.” The bartender said. The DJ was great. On the other side of the dance floor, I could see a couple of girls dancing with tubes of fluorescent lights.

“Give me my money now.” Damien shouted. “And no we do not want a tuk tuk, so don’t even ask.” He laughed as we left the counter. Clearly, he was having a lot of fun.

“Listen, I need to talk to you.” He said pulling me aside. We took a seat on a very questionable couch. Questionable in the sense that I could see a couple making out on a similar couch on the other side of the room.  

“What?”

“I’m in for Pattaya but not that early.” Damien said, shaking his head like crazy.

“Then?”

He stretched his legs out a bit, and as he did a guy bumped on it and almost fell. “Jesus Christ. Watch it.” The guy said as he continued up to the bar.

“Then when?” I asked again. I was not sure if I really wanted to go with him but still I wanted to know, whether he wanted to go with me.

“Twelve-ish”

“Okay. Sounds good.” It didn’t but I could easily get ready before twelve and leave, if I didn’t want to go with him.

Nes asked us if we wanted to join them on the floor. Damien was too drunk to dance and I acted being drunk.

“She has a boyfriend.” Damien was pointing towards Nes. “I thought I had a shot but…” Before he could finish his sentence he realised he was out of beer. I watched as he stumbled off to the counter and bought a couple of bottles.

“Where did you meet her?” I asked him. I watched him take a couple of big gulps from the bottle.

“Hotel pool side. She looked hot. Rest of her friends…naaah… But she..Man!”

  “Ask her out. Who knows.” Nes and her friends were now up on the platform with the DJ. Damien was looking at them too.

“I asked her out for pad thai…” He started laughing. “She said, she was on a diet.”

“So?”

He put his arms around my shoulders, and almost whispered. “Look at her, man. She doesn’t need to be on a diet.” I had to agree. She didn’t seem fat, in anyway whatsoever.

Beer bottles were filling up our table and at some point, I think Damien brought us some vodka. I am not sure. I remember watching a Sikh guy. He was wearing a white turban.

“I’m sure that’s special turban.” Damien said, as he killed another Chang beer. “I bet he is from India.”

No shit.

“Do the Bhangra” I shouted. Thankfully, my voice was lost somewhere in the music and noise. Damien laughed, even though I didn’t think he knew what bhangra was.

One of Nes’s friends came and told us that they were leaving. I was too drunk to react. Everything was in extra slow motion. I saw Damien’s hand go up. I half prayed that he wouldn’t show his middle finger to him. He waved his hand.

“Goodbye. We will see you tomorrow.”

They were gone by the time he ended the sentence.

I vaguely remember going back to my hotel. It must have been early morning.

“Good night. Thanks for taking me to the club.” Who knew I would actually end up having a great time. I didn’t.

Damien threw in a hug and almost fell when he let go. “See you in the morning.” He said as he walked across to his room. I opened the door of my room, and saw the TV remote lying on the floor. I kicked it and entered.

“They better fix my TV or I’ll…”

I threw up in the bathroom and passed out.

Recommendations

1. Khao San Road, sadly, doesn’t have a train station. If you do not want to spend time following the route that we followed, I suggest taking a metered cab.
2. Lot of scammers in Khao San Road. However, if you think straight, you are unlikely a
3. Khao San Palace Inn has recently hiked its prices. They also charge a 500 Baht security fee. They offer baggage storing services as well.

 

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Part D:    Leaving Bangkok

It was 11.30 am, when I got up. Someone was knocking on my door.

I looked around to see a note slipping through the gap between the door and the floor.

“12 pm checkout time. Better hurry or you’ll have to pay for another day. I’m downstairs at the internet cafe. Meet me.”

I quickly freshened up and by the time I was ready to leave it was 12.10pm. Not bad, I thought. I looked around for him in the lobby as I was checking out, but I couldn’t see him.

I asked the receptionist, if it was okay to leave my bag at the counter for a while. She nodded.

I rushed to the internet cafe. He was sitting on one of the computers with a can of iced tea.

“We go to the Southern Bus Terminal for our bus.” He said before I could even say hello.

“Cool. Are you ready to leave?”

“I want breakfast first. Your treat.”

We carried our bags to the small cafe next to our hotel and took a seat on one of the tables outside.  It was bright and sunny, but the humidity seemed a bit low. Khao San Road was still sleeping. Most of the shops were closed or were just opening up. Every now and then, you would see a couple of travellers walking around, looking for their hotels or finding one. I watched one old lady setting up her tee-shirt shop.

“Banana pancake and coffee for me” He placed his order. The waitress looked at me.

“Do you have noodles?”

“This is Thailand. Of course they have noodles.” Damien butted in. The waitress smiled.

“Chicken noodles and a coke. Make the noodles spicy.” The waitress took down the order and walked away.

“Coke? First thing in the morning?”

“Shut up. This is how I roll.” I joked. I hated Thai coffee.

“Last night was fun. Let’s do it again tonight in Pattaya.”

“I need to sleep. Did you meet Nes?”

“We will sleep in the bus and in the hotel. I read up about the Walking Street of Pattaya.”

“Whatever. Did you meet your friends?” I repeated.

“Yes. I met Nes when I was checking out. Said goodbye for the both of us.”

Our food came and we started eating. Either the food was super delicious or we were very hungry, maybe both, but no one spoke. We just ate.

“So, how do we go to the Southern Bus Terminal?” I asked. I needed to take a breather from the noodles.

“We fly.” He said, still eating. One could probably near the noise of the steel knife and fork hitting the china plate all the way in Southern Bus Terminal.

 “We get off at the Victory Monument station and take a moto cab.” He said once he was done with the pancakes.

We picked up our bags, were off to Pattaya.

Recommendations

1.  Khao San Road is filled with fake tourist desks. So try not to book anything from there. Use the internet to double check what you are being told by the touts.
2. Lots of travellers visit Khao San every day. Not all of them are friendly. Stay away from drugs and dealers. Contact the tourist police in the event of any problems. They have a booth right outside the road, near the post office.
3. Lots of food options in Khao San Road. Try them all.

Follow my boot prints to Pattaya by clicking here:

http://goodoldboots.com/2012/08/pattaya-where-the-freakshow-never-ends/

 

 

The Bus Ride!

Our air conditioned minibus, carrying ten people, most of whom were fast asleep, was speeding through the narrow roads of Bavet. With miles of rice fields on both sides, occasionally dotted with small ponds where few people would be sitting with makeshift fishing poles, the journey can get pretty boring within minutes. Having crossed into Cambodia from Saigon around an hour back, we resigned to the fact that the land border crossing process at the Bavet border may well be the most exciting thing to happen that day.

The strange stone carved monster bird statues outside every establishment to scare off evil spirits, the curves at the corners of the roofs that give a touch of royalty to even the most humble homes, the incomprehensible dialect, the dusty roads and the seemingly endless green fields, screamed out the fact that we have finally entered Cambodia.

It was late-afternoon and like most of my fellow passengers, I was drifting in and out of sleep, not out of tiredness, but out of boredom. Every now and then, I would check my watch to see how much longer do we have to travel. We were heading to Phnom Penh and as per my calculations, we were a good four hours away. And that’s not counting the time we would waste on the unscheduled stops at the local markets and tour desks, which were clearly aimed at scamming us. There have been a couple of stops already on the Vietnamese side, and it was only a matter of time before it happens again on this side of the border.

The silence in the minibus was broken by the irritating sound of a plastic bag being opened from the seats in front of mine.

“Onion Rings?” The man seating in front of me said to his mate seated next to him, in his heavily accented English. If I had to guess, I would say he was from one of the small European countries, like Lativa or Estonia.

“Naa! I’m not feeling well.” His friend said. He sounded like a native English speaker. Maybe British. His voice seemed tired and heavy. “I need to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, Vietnam is tough.”

“It’s not ‘Nam. It’s the fish I had last night.”

“Ooh..Yeah… Fish!… Mad spices! Didn’t you get it out of your system?”

“Yeah, I did. I almost passed out puking last night. Woke up today to find the whole room smelling like half digested rotten fish… Man, I was lucky to get my security deposit back.”

Soon, the second man dozed off again, the first man finished off his onion rings and the bus was silent again.

An hour or so later, the bus stopped. We woke up to realize that there was a restaurant outside. Clearly, it was another pathetic attempt to scam us. Few of the passengers got out for some fresh air and to stretch their legs. The rest continued sleeping.

The restaurant was located in the middle of nowhere. The restaurant was basically a temporary structure supported by iron poles and had a large aluminum sheet for roof. Inside, there were four tables with six plastic chairs each. It was located on the highway that led to Phnom Penh. There was nothing on either side of the highway except trees, shrubs and vast open fields.

“Do you have Coke?” I asked the waitress.

She brought out a chilled can of Coke and handed it to be with a big smile on her face.

“Malaysia?” She asked.

“No, India” I replied, handing her a $1 bill. It’s weird that Cambodians prefer to use American Dollars than their own Riels.

She brought the palms of her hands together, bowed a bit and greeted me, “Namaste”

Back on the bus, everyone seemed a lot more refreshed. People were eating, chatting and taking pictures. Overall, it seemed that we really needed this break. As I went back to my seat with my can of coke, I heard the sick guy telling his friend to bring him some chewing gum.

“Dude, all they have is spiders, cockroaches and bugs.. Chewing on those won’t make you feel any better. Trust me on that!”

“Gosh… Do they really eat those things?”

This question made me think. I haven’t actually seen Cambodians, or Thais eating these bugs and cockroaches. Never. It is always tourists trying out these insects, with scary expressions on their faces, under the illusion that they are immersing in the local culture.

What if it is just another tourist scam!

What if the Cambodians are like “Eww… Can’t believe they paid us to eat that. Let’s see what else we can feed these idiots.”

Few minutes later, the bus started moving and soon, we were speeding down the highway. Every now and then we would see sign boards telling us how far we were from the capital.

We passed this small village where we saw children playing football, and riding bicycles. The adults were working on the fields or just sitting around on plastic chairs outside their huts. They seemed normal in every way.

It is hard to imagine that Pol Pot was also from this country. He is the guy who thought killing millions of his fellow countrymen, many of them doctors, teachers etc. and starting a new Cambodia from year zero was a good idea. Did he confuse real life and real people with some video game where he can just start all over again by pressing the reset button? Who the hell put him in-charge?

Every now and then the bus would stop and some villager would get up. A teenager wearing a shabby AC-DC t-shirt sat beside me. He gave me a wide smile as he put his bag in the overhead space and took his seat. I wanted to ask him about the Khmer Rouge and the Angkor Wat, but I didn’t think he would understand me.

It was getting dark and it seemed we were driving through a forest. The road was narrow and uneven. It was dark inside the bus and all we could hear was the chatter of the other passengers.

Yes, it was frustrating and I couldn’t wait to get to my hotel, have a nice cold shower and a change of clothes. I thought about the time when I booked the hotel online. Dara Reang Sey was one of the premier hotels in the sea front area and according to the website, it had French décor, air conditioning, LCD TV, mini bar, a private balcony and a restaurant downstairs. I thought about the food that I will order once I was done with my shower. Chicken noodles, french fries, and a coke. Or maybe some beer. And some chicken nuggets.

Yes, definitely chicken nuggets.

I day dreamed about sitting on a road side table at the restaurant, as motorbikes and cars zoomed around. The waiter bringing me my food and finally, me stretching my legs and being comfortable. And then maybe calling it an early night, and heading to my room and falling asleep watching a movie.

I closed my eyes and thought about all the places I will be visiting the next day. The Killing Fields, the Genocide Museum, the National Museum, Wat Phnom, The Central Market, Phnom Penh night market. They all looked so interesting on the web.

“Stop the bus. Please stop the bus!” The European guy called out to the driver. The bus screeched to a halt. Everyone looked around. The sick guy hurriedly got off the bus. I looked out the window and saw him puke. The European guy handed him a bottle of water which he splashed on his face repeatedly. We were in the middle of the forest and apart from us, there was no sign of life anywhere close. It was dark and creepy. I looked at my watch. Damn, we should have been there by now.

The sick guy slowly made his way back to his seat.

“Are you okay? Do you need some medicine?”  The elderly Chinese man sitting in the front seat enquired in his low nasal voice. He could have been Japanese or Korean.

The sick guy shook his head, probably too sick to speak.

“He had some. Didn’t help.” His European friend replied.

As the bus started moving again, I asked the Cambodian sitting next to me how long will it take to reach Phnom Penh. He shook his head and smiled. Clearly he didn’t understand a word. I looked around for anything that symbolized Phnom Penh.

I showed him the bus ticket. It was bilingual. English and Khmer. He smiled again when he saw the ticket. I waited for a response but he still had a blank smile on his face. I showed him the ticket again and pointed to the Khmer alphabets written underneath the destination column. Still nothing. Nothing except that smile.

It seemed hopeless, so I plugged in my iPod and decided to just wait it out. The darkness outside took the shapes of silhouettes of the trees and hills. Inside the bus, it seemed the air conditioner was turned all the way up.

“How much longer till we get there?” The sick man asked in his weak voice.

“Won’t be long. It is about 15 kilometers from the village. Last time around we managed Phnom Penh in half an hour. But, we were on our bikes.”  His friend said.

I looked at my watch and did the maths in my head.

“We must be just round the corner to Phnom Penh.” I thought. It had been about 25 minutes since we left the village.

I looked in the back seat where few of the Cambodians were sitting. There was a big guy who had a thunderous laugh. Every time he laughed, the sound echoed around the bus thanks to the sealed windows. He was sitting with a man half his size, talking loudly in Khmer.

“Can you please keep it down.” The sick guy asked the big guy.

The big guy didn’t notice, partially because it was dark and partially because he was in the midst of some very entertaining conversation with his partner.

“Sir! Keep it down please. My friend isn’t feeling well and he needs to rest.” The European guy called out to the big guy.

Still, the big guy didn’t notice.

The Cambodian guy sitting to my side said something to the big guy in Khmer. The big guy looked at him and then shifted his gaze to the European.

“What?” The Big guy said. He had a deep, heavy, and loud voice.

“Keep it down please. He is not well.” The European guy said, pointing at his friend.

“Then take him to the doctor.” Clearly the big guy wasn’t happy about being asked to keep it down. “We are not being loud!” Ironically the last bit was said pretty loudly. I wondered if the guy was drunk.

The European guy was about to reply when the sick guy tapped on his arm and he sat back down.

The lights of the bus were turned on and the bus conductor rushed in from the front, sat beside the big guy, and talked to him. Few minutes later he came to the seat where the sick guy and his friend were sitting and told them that we will be arriving in Phnom Penh in a couple of minutes.

The lights went off again, and the “couple of minutes” turned into ten minutes. Then fifteen. We were on the outskirts of the city. Along the highway we passed gas stations, small huts and shops. There were a lot more people around.

I got off my seat, and carefully made my way to the front where the conductor was sitting.

“How do I get to the sea front?”

“Huh?” I guess I caught him off guard. He was busy with his cell phone.

“My hotel is in the sea front area. How do I get there?”

I saw his forehead cringing up as he thought about it. A few seconds later, he looked up and told me that he will drop me a few blocks away from the sea front.

“Which hotel are you staying?” He asked. In the white light of his cell phone, his teeth seemed to sparkle. It looked creepy.

“Dara Reang Sey”

“Oh…Dara! I will drop you off near Street 13. It’s five minutes walk from there.”

“Okay. Thanks!”

As I turned around to go back, I saw him move. I looked closely in the darkness to realize that he was holding out his hand. I shook his hand and thanked him again.

“Did you ask how much longer it’s going to take?” The European guy asked me as I passed him.

“Umm… Soon!”. I wanted to say “Don’t hold your breath” but I didn’t have the energy to be sarcastic.

I quickly put my iPod and my book inside my bag. I was excited because we were in Phnom Penh, finally. Looked out the window to see, bright lights, cars, people, and markets.

The bus stopped near a small market. I looked up from my seat to see if this was my stop. It wasn’t. The Chinese group got off. One of the ladies took a quick picture of the inside of the bus before she descended down the stairs.

The flash brightened up the entire bus for a second.

“Fuck!” The sick guy growled. What a loser!

The bus started again. The Cambodian guy sitting to my side gave me a smile. I guess he could sense my excitement.

“This is my first time in Phnom Penh.” I tried one last time to communicate with him.

He looked at me with an expression that made me assume that he was translating that sentence in Khmer. And then he smiled again.

“Stay away from the tuk tuks!” A deep voice came from the back seat. It was the big guy with the thunderous laugh.

“Okay.” I said and smiled.

“How many days are you planning to stay here” He asked. He didn’t seem unfriendly at all.

“Five days.”

The bus stopped all of a sudden, as we all swayed to the front. We were stuck in traffic.

“Huh?”

“Five days.” I repeated.

“Okay. You are from India. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Ahhh…. Taj Mahal.. Bollywood… Kamasutra.” And he laughed.

The European guy looked back for a second before returning to whatever it is he was doing on his iPad.

“Where in India do you live?” He asked.

“Delhi.”

“Aah.. My friend lives in Choonee…”

“Chennai?”

“What?”

I wanted to end the conversation and look at the city outside, so I just smiled and nodded.

“Dara…” The conductor called out. He was sitting next to the driver, as the bus slowly made its way through the narrow city streets.

As I quickly picked up my bag, I heard the deep voice again.

“Bye, Shah Rukh Khan!”

I thought for a second, and said.

“Bye, Pol Pot.” I didn’t know any other Cambodian personality. As the bus filled up with that ridiculously loud laughter again, I guiltily passed the sick guy’s seat one last time that evening.

Soon, the bus stopped and I got to my hotel, passing through the narrow streets lined with bars and shops.

After a nice long cold shower and a change of clothes, I made my way downstairs through the elegant marble staircase and took my seat in one of the tables outside, facing the street. It was fifteen minutes past ten at night and the street was getting quieter by the minute.

“Spicy chicken noodles, and a Carlsberg please.”

The waitress took down my order and brought me the drink.

“The noodles will be ready in ten minutes. Do you want something else to eat for now?”

“Do you have chicken nuggets?”

“Sorry, Sir. We don’t have Chicken nuggets. We have fried chicken. Would you like to have some of that?”

“No thanks. I guess I’ll just have the noodles. Can you please make it spicy?”

“Sure. Anything else?”

“No, that’s it. Thanks.”

As I gulped down the magic potion, I realized that all the characters I met during the trip will almost certainly never assemble together again. All of us were brought together by a series of life events, just for a few hours. All of our lives intertwined for a brief while during this bus ride from Saigon to Phnom Penh.

If all of us were to sit down one day and write a book about our lives, what are the chances that this bus ride will even be mentioned?

Even if it is mentioned in a small section somewhere in Chapter 10321, how will each of us be mentioned in our stories? What if the guy whom I referred to as the sick guy, goes on to become the UFC Champion someday? In my book, he will always be the sick guy. What if the Big Cambodian goes on to find a cure for cancer? Will I even recognize him, when I read about his achievements in the newspaper?

No.

In my book, he will always be the guy who called me Shah Rukh Khan and in his book, I will be the Indian jackass who called him Pol Pot.

I ordered some more of that potion to continue this chain of thoughts.

So, what is the point of all these interactions? I mean seriously, what difference it would make if instead of trying to talk to the Cambodian teenager, I just sat quietly the entire trip? What difference would it make if I slept through the entire bus ride?

We have these seemingly pointless interactions every day. In a pub, at work, in a bus…

The truth is, in these line of thoughts, it doesn’t make a difference.

But it will make your book a lot more interesting.

Hyderabad, India

As I sit in the waiting lounge at the Rajiv Gandhi International Airport,having come here 2 hours early to beat the heat outside, I reminisce about the week that was. Yes, it was not a  vacation..came here to attend a week long program which was supposedly aimed at making me a better manager… like that’s possible… I did visit a few local sights and tasted a few delicacies that Hyderabad is famous for…

Things to See

1. Ramoji Film City… if you are crazy about movies, especially Indian ones, this place is a must see… one can visit the sets of some popular hindi movies and have a great time watching the live shows…

2. Golconda Fort… Haven’t been there.. but have only heard good things about the place…

3. Salarjung Museum… Regret the fact that I went there.. Roamed around in the museum for an hour but didn’t understand the place a bit… ( I was hungry and thirsty…Hyderabad is bloody hot!).. however, people apparently love that place. .. Go and see for yourself..

4. Imax-Prasad’s.. One of the best 3D halls I have been to…

5. Charminar… surrounded by shops and terrible traffic, Charminar makes you go… Is that it?!

Finding the best Biryani

I have been coming to Hyderabad every year for the past three years… and everytime, I tell myself ” Ill find the best biryani in Hyderabad this time around…” This time was no different… Went all the way to the markets near Charminar to find a place called Shadab, which according to locals, is the best biryani in Hyderabad… A plate of biryani costs about 120 bucks but the quantity served is enough for atleast 3 self respecting guys… The biryani was not as great as I thought.. served with a weird coconut curry, the biryani was dry and, for the most part, tasteless…. However, the faluda, even though made with sabu, was nice…very nice… I dreamt about it that night…it was that good!!
Another biryani place, very popular among the locals, is the Paradise… Even though, fortunately, this time around I was not dragged to this restaurant, I want to warn the readers that unless these guys came up with some magical biryani  recipe in the past year, the biryanis here can make any North Indian go “WTF!”….

So, it seems that my search for the perfect biryani was not exactly a huge success.. but I found out about this small place… with some weird south indian name at Banjara Hills, which serves a really mean Chicken 65.. try it if you can…

Also in Banjara Hills, located near the City Center Mall is the superb place called BarbequeNation… with its all you can eat buffet, it is the place to be at dinner time… A friendly suggestion… if you are planning to visit Barbeque Nation, make sure your companions are  up for the challenge as well, because if they strike out early, not only will you be under added pressure to make up for their share ..but there is a good chance that you may have to spend a lot of time on the thunder bucket the next day.. I certainly did!

The Hyderabadis

The Hyderabadis are some of the most fun people I have met… they really know how to have a good time… during they weekends they turn up in large numbers and visit the shopping malls and other land marks of the city to have a blast… during this time, as I found out, the fast food joints are packed and the movies, no matter how crappy they are, run houseful! So, book your tickets early… or prepare to be disappointed.. Also, Hyderabadis refer to Friday as Jumma and Saturday as Hafta..

Beware!

Hyderabad is famous for pearls… so, if you plan to buy some make sure you do your research because there are apparently a lot of shops selling fake pearls in collusion with the auto wallahs. These autos will try to take you to these fake pearl shops. It seems they get a cut or a percentage of the amount spent by the naive customers.

Did George Bush really make that offer?

This is the last section of this blog, and it is about this story that I have been hearing time and time again from most of the locals, especially the auto wallahs.. It seems George Bush once came to Hyderabad and offered to buy the Nizam’s Palace, but he was turned down rudely by the Nizam.. One of the autowallahs actually quoted the NIzam, which translates into something like, if you come to my palace as a guest, I will take care of you, but if you try to take it, Ill throw you out of my city…

Don’t know how much of the story is actually true…  find out for yourself…

 

Welcome to Dringlefun

Dringlefun is a place where you can share your experiences and have fun.. there are a lot of things that makes a person laugh…it can be jokes, situations, observations… racial slurs… come to dringlefun, share and let us laugh along with you…
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