Scenes from Bangkok

Memories are fickle things.  Some stay in your mind just as they happened; some change over time; some become sensational tales that you don't even believe in, and some just sink into your mind as a feeling, void of pictures or sound.  For me, Bangkok produces the latter.  Even as I write this, the images in my head are slowly fading like pictures left in the sun.  It's a regrettable thing, because while Bangkok has produced no indelible images, it is a place I don't want to forget.  Like a slide projector, my mind recalls some of the sights and feelings of an unforgettable, yet forgettable city. 

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You are in a middle eastern restaurant eating baba ghanoush and hummus.  A pale, 50-ish year old, white man in wearing jean shorts, black dress socks, and Teva-esqe sandals walks in with a young, fit African woman.  The woman has braids in her hair that match the color of her shoes and a walk of confidence that clearly states she knows what she's doing - don't try any of that funny stuff, or you're going to get a heel in your forehead.  They walk to a hotel counter manned by a Thai woman and her 10 year-old son and quickly get a key.  On the way to the room, they wait for the elevator next to a muslim man wearing cream-colored loose clothing with a kaffiyeh covering his head.  The muslim man takes a quick look at the couple on their hour-long date, then resumes waiting.  It was as if he had just glanced at the TV only to see a commercial that he had seen 100 times before.

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You are in Wat Pho, taking pictures of the largest reclining Buddha in the world.  A queue has formed at a particular spot because it is the best angle to get a full picture of Buddha's serene face and still have room for a smiling tourist.  You wait in the queue out of curiosity.  After reaching the front, you take one picture and move on.  You wonder what all the commotion was about, but somehow still feel satisfied that you got the same picture as 1000 other people that day.  Someday, you resolve to figure out why people do these things.  For the time being, you move on to the next spot to repeat what you just did.  Maybe Buddha was right and everything is cyclical.

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You walk from the bar, which is run out of the back of a VW bus, through a narrow ally in order to get to the nearest 7-11.  The ally is full of bars with young thai women waiting for next customer.  While the bars look like normal bars (some have pool tables and live music) you're fully aware that it's really just a meeting place for prostitutes and Toms.  As you glance inside, you notice the odd scene.  Instead of a jolly atmosphere, it looks like a room of the world's worst blind dates.  Men sip on their beer awkwardly while women constantly shift their eyes to see if anyone better is coming in.  In the middle of all of the bars is a seafood restaurant trying to gain customers with a mixture of hitting drums and a dancing, overweight man wearing a sun dress that is too small for his figure.

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You are in a park under a shaded tree, trying to pass the hottest hours of the day.  You notice two young monks in saffron colored robes stopping at scenic points to take pictures of each other with their digital camera.  You think that this is a very incongruous scene with monks using the latest technology but then realize that monks are just people with different clothing.  Besides, any picture with saffron robes looks good and you're sure they are aware of that.

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You're waiting on the corner and watching a road-side fruit seller cutting mangoes while never even glancing at her hands.  The knife goes in and out of the fruit, somehow stopping just before touching the surface in her skin.  Her attention then turns to the street where a mass of red-clad people on trucks, motorcycles, and cars come down the street singing, chanting, and waving flags.  These are the anti-government protesters that you have been reading about in the papers.  You dart across the street to the median in order to get some closer photos.  While snapping some shots the protesters shout "welcome" to you and reach out for high-fives.  You don't understand the politics in full, so weary of choosing sides, you opt to wave instead.  You immediately make a mental note to yourself not to wear red in the near future, just in case.

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Walking to the nearest sky tram station, your progress is impeded by a man followed by 8 burqa-wearing women.  Some political and moral thoughts enter your mind about the burqa, yet those are quickly pushed out of your mind by the annoyance of walking so slow in such extreme heat.  Soon, you make a move like an F1 driver and pass the women, one by one until you are at the lead driver: the man.  Fortunately, he saves you from changing gears and instead moves out of your way so that you may pass.  Ten steps later at the subway station, you are walking up the stairs next to a Thai lady boy.  You want to stare to make sure of the image you are seeing, but instead keep your eyes straight in front of you.  You wonder what the women in burqas think about all of this.

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You are now in the present, ready to move on away from the city.  As you look back at what you have seen in the past 5 days, you look forward to the time you return to imprint new memories that can only be made in Bangkok.