An idiot abroad: Bangkok edition begins

Kia ora friends  – I’m alive. You’d be pleased to know, all that undercooked chicken and pork skewers I’ve been eating off the streets still hasn’t killed me. I still haven’t been mugged, and I’m yet to make friends with ladyboys down the road, but I’m doing fantastic.

 

I survived a bumpy plane ride from Sydney, a 2hr long line in immigration, and got through customs at 2:30am. First thing I did when I got out of the airport was to sit down: wow, I’m actually here. I’m no longer talking about Bangkok in the future tense. I am here. And hello heat – I’m so sure we’re never going to be mates.

All forms of public transport were closed, so I got a taxi into Silom – my home for the next three months. I practiced my limited Thai with the taxi driver, and just stared out of the window the whole ride – taking everything in, absolutely mesmerised by the city lights and by the relatively busy highway considering how late it was.

I stumbled into my apartment at 3 am, passed out on the bed without sheets on, and did not at all register that this marked the beginning of an exciting new time. I woke up 3hrs later to the heat, not realising that air-con is a complete necessity to stay asleep in Bangkok.

When I went out on to my street for the first time in daylight, I got this big rush of excitement and joy – this is so epic. Smells permeated from all corners, and you could see locals eating on the streets everything that a westerner would protest against in the morning: from deep-fried chicken, friend noodles, dumplings, to pork buns. You go down alleyways, and you see the stark contrast yet utter fusion of the traditional and modern, the old and the new. Next to sky scrapers were little food markets tucked away: underneath traditional monuments read signs like ‘happy massage.’ People were bumping into each other, gangs of motorcyclists were hooning down the street, locals were bartering in what sounded like gibberish to me, and everything seemed to be happening all at once and it was so damn exciting.

A WEEK OF FIRSTS

First Coffee

First things first, I went on a hunt for good coffee. I literally could not find a single place, so I resorted to a 7/11. I got distracted looking at the weird and wacky selection of the breads and beverages, and when I made to the coffee section I ordered an espresso – surely they can’t screw that up. First lost in translation moment; my ‘espresso’ came with milk and sugar, which was more like syrup. “Is this espresso?” I pointed to the English menu. “Yes, espresso. Espresso!” Alright then, espresso means milky coffee with enough sugar and syrup to start an obesity epidemic. Gotcha.

First Run

When I moved to Barcelona, Wellington, or even when I visited places like Sydney, the first thing I did in all those places was to get up early and chuck on my running gear. Running around the city is like hitting two birds (actually more like three) with one stone – you get your bearings, you get some exercise done, and cover a lot of ground in a short period of time. My only concern was the unbelievably busy streets, and the nauseating heat and humidity – even at 6am, it was already 28 degrees. Yikes. And this is supposed to be the coolest month in Thailand!

Luckily, my apartment is approximately 700m away from Lumpini Park – the Yoyogi Park of Tokyo, Central Park of New York – and I suppose kind of like Cornwall Park of Auckland!

At 6:30am, it was a bustling rave in there. By the northern gate, a group of fitspo seniors were shaking their booties to what seemed like the equivalent of zumba. 50m further down the park, another group of seniors were practicing tai chi. On the nicely padded running tracks were elderly people and expats all in colourful running gear – but where are all the young Thais?  I don’t have an answer to that. Soz.

 

To the backdrop of sky scrapers, elevated highways and train lines, there was tranquility in the middle of the park, with a still and scenic pond the running track circled around. Not just exercisers, but people were reading newspapers, and groups of men were playing majhong. It made you forget how early it was in the morning.

Once I got out of the park, I gave up running. It was a little past 7, and I couldn’t even walk through the streets without hitting people. Turn a corner and locals were deep-frying breakfasts, chicken and pork skewers were being traded, and it gave the impression the day had started long ago. I’m also pretty sure I lost about 2 litres of fluids. Ew, but wow. Cutting weight for a fight is going to be easier here.

First Encounter with a Local

My first proper sit-down conversation I had with a Thai person was with my landlord, who also runs the laundry and dry cleaning business on the first floor of my apartment. I’d read a lot about Thai people and the way they interact with others in a commercial situation – like how they put building relationships before the ultimate contract or goal they’re trying to achieve. And my experience with my landlord was a textbook example of such beautiful and respectful way of entering into business with people.

As I was waiting for him in the laundry room to sign the lease agreement, I was doing what I always do to kill time – snapchat. Next thing I know the landlord’s wife, Mrs Eed jumped in, started talking to me and asking me who I was sending it to. When Mr Eed arrived, he saw the contract in my hand and I immediately went to hand him over the contract – but he wasn’t having a bar of it. Bugger, am I doing something wrong?

One thing I learned about the Thais is that they want to know who they’re entering into an agreement with before they start talking about business. We talked about New Zealand, my internship, how his daughter went to Christchurch and loved it – and how beautiful Queenstown was when he visited New Zealand. I asked him about his business, life in Bangkok, and we ended up yarning for a solid 20 minutes, of which half of it was spending giggling and making jokes. When he figured me out, he was ready to take the contract from my hands. “If you need anything, you know, anything not just apartment stuff, call me.” I bowed and said thank you. “Seriously, okay call me anytime. If you need anything, ask.”

First Dinner

Knackered by my adventures, setting up my room and stocking up my fridge, I just wanted to sit down and eat in an air conditioned room, not on the streets. So after buying some bedding, I went to the basement of Silom Complex just down the road from me, where there was a cheap food court. I just pointed to what looked good to me and eagerly waited with a rumbling tummy.

The food came out and it tasted great – what more it was only $3. But shortly after scoffing a chunk of my meal, my mouth began to burn and I realised how spicy my food actually was. Why so spicy??

Oh my goodness Tomo you absolute butthead – this is a speciality spice shop. Look at the menu. You are an idiot.

Sometimes my own stupidity and cluelessness surprises me, even though it’s not new to me or others around me: but it really does give me and others a lot of laugh about (and to write about, too.) I like to think I’m a bit of a fighter, so I pushed through the spiciness and finished my meal as if it was some kind of a race. I had bodily fluids coming out of every opening possible. Yuck.

There’s a lot of other firsts I’ve had, but I realise everyone’s attention spams are short and I have my first day of work tomorrow. So hope you got a few chuckles out of my battles.

Kop khun ka x0x0