I see your parking garage and raise you a reflecting pool and a moat.
Our plans caused us to overstay our free, thirty day visas, so we had to trek out to the Civil Center to get an extension. The guy on the left is King Bhumibol, who’s universally loved by everyone we’ve met. A scholar, farmer, diplomat, intellectual, and lover of both The Eagles (particularly “Hotel California”) and Bob Marley. He taught the Thai people about crop diversification, and helped the Russians further developed their agricultural practices. Putin is a big fan.
We had expected the process of extending our visas to take all afternoon, but it was surprisingly efficient. Maybe 30 minutes start to finish, despite having none of the requisite documents prepared in advance. Marinate on that, DMV.
After the Civil Center we took a bus going anywhere, and ended up at Victory Monument. Calling it a traffic circle does it a disservice. Predictably, it was huge, crowded with shops and stalls, and had all manner of food, so we checked it out.
Found this gem.
Sigh. They've gone internationalI'm sorry sir, you are mistaken. That is not a snack, that is a fish.
The university itself was a bunch of uninteresting concrete buildings running along the Chao Phraya river that separates Bangkok’s eastern and western halves.
The Fish Markets
Bangkok has an entire market dedicated to dried fish products. Everything is laid out neatly and labeled clearly but the smell is intense. Not quite bad, but definitely fishy. It was a total trip seeing food sold in such a different way than what I’m used to.
One box of fish shavings, pleaseFlattened dried cuttlefishThis...this made me uneasy. This and the giant rat.Some kind of fish, couldn't get a clear translation.An entire pallet of MSG.Outside of the fish market. This is what most of bangkok looks like.
Wat Pho
One of the more famous wats in Bangkok (evidently?) it houses a massive, golden statue of the Buddha reclining (read on his death bed). The entire surrounding complex is ornately decorated and beautiful. We woke up early and happened to arrive before it was overrun by other people.
The roofs of all the buildings were lacqured tile, with each doorway surrounded with golden mirrors. For contrast, a European style clock tower peeks out in the background.This guy had the right ideaAll the roofs!All of the gates had Chinese stone guards originally used as ballasts for junks, then used as badass motheruckers.This guy...Marco Polo.I was tempted to create a list of the top ten things in Thailand that just don't give a fuck, but I wasn't sure I could live with myself after creating a listicle, so instead, is submit to you only this: 'lol swag'The entire hall was filled with an irritating rattling sound, as we walked around the back of the Buddha,Mae found out why: people were changing bills for coins and dropping them into about 100 alms bowls for good luck.The inner courtyard was surrounded with gilded Buddha. From what I could overhear from other private tour guides, families would purchase a Buddha and have it placed in the temple as a sort of patronage. They're responsible for the upkeep, so some were in disrepair, some were shiny and new. All had nipples.There were cats everywhere. Saw this Tom and figured out whyHuge. Absolutely huge. In addition to being covered in squares of gold foil not much larger than a quarter, his robes defy gravity, hanging horizontally despite his reclined posture. His feet are inlaid with mother of pearl, depicting symbols of his life. I think. Most of the plaques were in Thai.
Moar Markets
Came across this badass bake shop stacked floor to ceiling with everything.Walking through the markets, I half expected to see people offering neural implants, stims, and all manner of cyberpunk dystopian tropes.But we just saw a lot of stuff wrapped in plastic
We wandered through the flower markets, got coffee from an ‘underground’ coffee shop, it was in broad daylight, or at least as much as the markets ever see, and through China town to end up at the Royal Indian. Hole in the wall with fantastic food, they served the best palak paneer I’ve ever had.
Cherry red scooter cruising down some back alley we wandered down. And terrible wiring.One power? With the Democracy Monument peeking in the backgroundI...I can'tDoors....to a door shopWat RatchanatadaramKerry mugging *hard* like it's for NatGeo/she had no idea I was taking thisKhao San night market. After about 8pm, Khao San loses any charm it may have and becomes an unmitigated shitshow
commentor: Rob
date:2015-01-21 11:49:35
More updates!
commentor: Elaine
date: 2015-01-19 01:48:00
More Cow Bell!!! (After all, it’s Day Four, your time.) Loved your Day One post. Wiring’s so-o-o-o scary, though. Glad you opted not to swim.
I watched a young woman dressed in a smartly tailored uniform stride through the restricted access door and up to the glass. Smiling, she faced the blubberous plane as it clumsily backed out of the gate. The woman waved and bowed towards…who? A coworker? Lover? Her most recent charge? Watching it felt wrong, like ogling a couple in the park. The barriers between them made the small act feel terribly intimate.
Before I could look away, she turned away and saw (caught?) me looking. I expected her to blush. Instead, she fixed her smile on me and walked back out the door. I went back to watching sumo and understanding none of it.
First, I want you to know that I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed. How could I not be? Fifteen years ago, coming here was, for all intents and purposes, coming to the future. Everywhere I looked I saw cellphones whose least remarkable feature was polyphonic ringtones. It took two full years after I got back for phones could do more than squeak at us. Ubiquitous photo booths with facial recognition features that rival Google Hangouts today. LED displays I still haven’t seen in the US. It was incredible. And hanging out in Narita today, it’s clear you’re still an affluent, tech savvy country. Walking through the terminal is a whose who of mass market fashion: Hermès, Ferragamo, Dior, Coach, all on display like it’s Union Square. Cell phones have improved, but nothing that stands out from what we have in the U.S. Really, the only novel bit of tech I’ve come across has been vertically scrolling LED arrays, and those only because the orientation doesn’t work in English. It would seem we’ve finally achieved tech parity. And for the most part that’s cool, I get it. Flagging economy, aging workforce, increased demand in the U.S. But you need to think long and hard about what the hell happened to your vending machines.
Fifteen years ago, us ‘Muricans counted ourselves lucky if the vending machine didn’t eat our coins when we wanted to buy pretzels. Taking bills was an unreliable novelty. Your vending machines dispensed hot tea at a card swipe. (They also dispensed something called Pocari Sweat which I still haven’t figure out, but that’s neither here nor there). This is where you were at all those years ago:
2015
This is where you are now:
2006
I saved myself the trouble of digging through my old photo album and scanning a vending machine photo-U.S. Phones didn’t have cameras at that point
Not a damn thing has changed. Fifteen years ago in the U.S. we were thankful to have a soda explode on us because it meant that it actually dropped into the bin instead of getting stuck in the spinning coil of A5. Now we have engaging experiences with touchscreen-enabled robots that customize our bottle labels. Your’s haven’t changed. The designer in me is applauds you dedication to singularity of purpose and laser focus on doing the job right, but e child in me is pissed.
True, I still have yet to see vending machines in the US that dispense used panties, but I’m counting that as a blessing. Step up.
OMG! I can’t believe my entire life for the next five weeks is going to fit inside that pack!
/s
It’s Thailand, not Mars. To hear it told, there are more 7-11s there than people in Bangkok. I’ve just always wanted to take a shot of my pack with everything laid down
I can’t figure out why I love taking the Larkspur ferry. Something about being completely removed from the effort of getting into the city, maybe. No traffic, no Bart trains screaming under the bay, no choice. You will end up in SF, but right now, for the next thirty minutes, you’re stuck. I know it’s more than the views of the bay, the Golden Gate, both spans of the Bay, downtown SF, because even fogged in, the charm is there. Maybe it’s lingering memories, or simply being on the water. Maybe having that much space to move around while in transit really is that luxurious. Planes, cars, and muni, even without the smell of piss, are cramped and uncomfortable. Trains are a step up. Maybe the 1800s had this travel thing figured out. Now, if only we could bring back the blimp…
Regardless of why, it was the natural choice for getting back to sf after clearing out my room, packing it into my car, and schleping it up to Sebastopol for safe keeping. Carly was beside herself when I got home, but we took off pretty quick to make San Rafael in time for dinner before the ferry. Even so, we got so caught up in the meal I had to sprint to make the ferry and missed saying a proper goodbye to my parents. Now I’ll have that on my conscience if I explode somewhere over the Pacific.
The whole trip back to SF I spent on the back deck of the ferry, soaking in the cold. Anticipation of the heat and humidity has made Alaska and the northern lights all the more appealing. The cold may kill you, but hell is probably humid. I wanted to practice being a tourist, so I snapped a couple shots of the bay. Neither the girl with the trekking pack nor the guy paid to watch us dumbasses so that we don’t jump overboard seemed to notice, so mercifully I was alone in my shame.
I’m probably gonna take terrible pictures and have solidly vapid comments about all of them. A disproportionate share of photos will probably be of food, which unjustly, will look wholly unappealing. Elephant rides appear to be generally terrible, so we’ll be skipping that particular cliché, but everything else is fair game for recounting.
Or I might just not post anything.
