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After living in China, nothing is weird. The ante has been
upped for my tolerance for the outlandish. Take for instance,
Bangkok. To most Americans–especially those
with Midwestern Baptist backgrounds–this city would be on the fringe of hell’s gates. Golden shrines, orange clad monks, and transvestite
prostitutes everywhere you looked. And of course, lily white westerners taking it all in with their minolta lens.
But after living in Kunming, Bangkok was a walk on the mild side. It was a taste of America, of consumerism, complete with two informercial channels on Cable. For starters, everyone
spoke English, even the tut-tut drivers, who also happen to know the difference between a sidewalk and the street.
In Bangkok, you can get your American tastes on, grabbing a Krispy Kreme for breakfast, fries from Ronald-Pom McDonald for lunch… to corn ice
cream from the Colonel for dessert.
Another thing about Bangkok, no one stared at us. Westerners
are as common as golden nipples. The prostitute scene gave the streets the
vibe of New Orleans with a different soundtrack. No jazz clubs, just the loud sound of the streets.
Bangkok has more in common with London than Kunming, China. While one street would be a page out of Nat
Geo, the next would be a page out of Vogue.
Take for instance, Bangkok’s premiere shopping center, the Siam.
Imagine if Watertower
Place and The Mall of America had a baby. This would be it. They had every store imaginable including English language schools for toddlers. Plus, an international foodie store with cheese that
actually tasted like cheese! Just smelling the food court would make you fat. Delectables from around the world, including Cinnabons, Starbucks, KFC and Outback.
I would play tourist one day, snapping pictures of sacred shrines then play the ultra consumer the next, fascinated by their transit system and public toilets with remote controls.
One tourist attraction I had to see in Bangkok was the Fertility shrine. This is not in the guide books, but an urban legend talked about in Chicago’s Boystown. This phallic pit stop was located
behind the loading zone of the Swiss Hotel. The big question is this: do you pay homage to the Fertility Shrine by
offering a flower necklace, or by leaving a box of Calais bought for a nickel
on the street?
The smells were more tolerable in Bangkok. I prefer fish
alley to the stinky dofu street in China.
If you have an appetite for adventure, go to Bangkok. And be
sure to bring your credit cards. They are actually accepted here, even at the
monk’s barber shop.
December 29th, 2011 at 6:27 am funny, love your read! You ought to be publishing it in Nat. Geo, as a comic take on far away lands! They could definitely use alittle humor in there, they are sooo serious…. You should send them it in, with the pictures… You will be famous :) Hope you have a great new year, I will be reading more from you. Love Jasna