Thai New Year, and Singapore
I arrive in Bangkok from Siem Reap, Cambodia, at about 8 p.m. The minivan driver does not know where to let us off, as roads are closed for the Thai New Year celebration. We have spent an hour or two circling Khaosan Road. The streets are jammed with people spraying water and whitewash, but revelers see me with my baggage, and mostly ignore me.
I get the last room at Wild Orchid Villa. It is smaller than desired, then attempt to reserve a bus to the airport in the morning. Due to the Thai New Year, there will be no buses to the airport in the morning.
The next morning, the streets are more deserted than usual. (Bangkok normally wakes up at 10 a.m., but today it will be later.) In this New Year's Day traffic, my taxi to the airport takes only thirty minutes. I am at the airport very early.
My Dad arrives on-time. We are happy to connect, and we take a taxi back. The taxi parks near the hotel. Both of us are splashed with water, just a little, by celebrators. We go to the room, then venture out a little. Khaosan Road is jammed with serious celebration and is virtually impassable. I suspect that my Dad wonders what he is doing in Thailand.
We venture another direction, to Siam Square, via river ferry. We shop for shoes, and only find full priced brand names. The trip back, by taxi, gets us close to the guest house, but Thais rub a whitewash solution on our faces, which make us look like Native Americans on a warpath. We are also sprayed with water. The block past the National Gallery has the most celebration. As Eastern music plays, lines of people, do a bunny hop-type dance and spray water and gently rub on more face paint to "make you clean." Thais say, "happy, happy, " and I respond "Happy New Year." When I get to the Guest House, I take a shower.
I try to ease my dad into the Thailand lifestyle by ordering the Guest House Hawaiian pizza, which tastes very American. The celebration, which is the equivalent of Christmas, the Fourth of July and New Year's Eve, is just in front of us, and is troubling to my father. He wonders if this party is going on over the whole city. I answer that the party is throughout Thailand and also throughout Laos and Cambodia.
The next morning, we get up earlier than the revelers and talk to Toon at Toon Travel. She sells us a tour package to the River Kwai for 500 Baht. It is an all day trip, which includes elephant rides. Dad tells Toon about the movie, and its actors.
We see the cemetery, a museum and the "Bridge Over River Kwai". Then, we take a train and have lunch. I ride a balding elephant with floppy ears. The ride is much longer than I anticipate. A smiley Korean man accompanies me as Dad waits in the shade. Next, we traverse over some rickety bridges in order to float down the river in a bamboo raft. The Korean puts on his life jacket and hops in the water. Dad and I stay dry. After our long ride back, we walk the last block to the guest house and are splashed in the ongoing celebration.
I sense that Dad must be thinking about buying airline tickets to the closest country that is free of water pistols. I accommodate the next morning, by checking us out of our guesthouse and getting us a bus to the airport. When we arrive at the ticket counter, we are told that we are a day early.
The National Gallery is an art museum on our block which features traditional art and a couple of pieces painted by the king, drawn the 1960's. It is still morning and the reveling hasn't wound up yet. We get back to the Guest House only slightly wet.
From 6 p.m. to 10:30 p.m. on our final night, we see Thai boxing, which seems more civilized than American boxing, perhaps because the majority of boxers weigh 100 pounds. A taxi driver tries to scam me by demanding 250 Baht for the short ride to the boxing center, so we exit, and Dad is wondering why I am so upset. I do not think I am upset. When I ask at the guesthouse how much the ride should cost, I am told 60 Baht, which is about what I thought. We pay 60 Baht, a few minutes later, and then 100 Baht for the return ride.
After our practice run, the trip to the airport is easy. We are first in line for our flight.
We arrive in Singapore, use the ATMs to get local currency, and search for a tourist counter, then reserve a room near Chinatown.
Dad and I walk all over Chinatown in a random fashion, as I am getting bearings. Eventually, we find a place to eat in the basement of a mall. Then we walk some more. This is my way of introducing myself to a town, but I learn that others may not want to walk for as much distance as I typically do.
Singapore is hard to figure out. There is some impressive architecture, but where is everything? What is enclosed in all of the big buildings? But, it makes sense that so much of Singapore is indoors and air-conditioned, as we are 100 km North of the equator. Thailand would benefit from a little more air-conditioning.
The Western influence in Singapore is remarkably strong. This is nothing like Thailand. I am a little uneasy because of the caning of the American a few years back. I won't get caned for jaywalking. I am unwilling to jaywalk here!
We ride double decker City Buzz busses and sight-see all over the city. The sitting averages out the long walk the night before. The ethernet connection in the room facilitates more inactivity. I am drained (by stress?), so the Internet and the bus seats are appreciated. Dad goes next door to buy water and finds a grocery store in a mall.
The next day, we go to the Asian Civilisations Museums, arriving just as tours begin. The tour guide convinces me that Singapore is a "melting pot" type crossroads with influences from all over the world. The wide variety of art and relics attests to this. Singapore might feel more like Great Britain than like Bangkok, if you blind-folded me and put me in a mall somewhere away from the heat. On our way back, we notice yet another enclosed mall complex, with an American bookstore, and a grocery store, just a few blocks from the hotel.
I wonder how my recollection of the past week varies from my father. Will we remember the Thai New Year as a unique celebration that we were fortunate to attend, or as an annoyance that caused us to wash our clothes too often? Will we remember Singapore's Chinatown as a pleasant walk, or as an overlong meandering trip? Will we remember Thai boxing or a taxi driver that wanted 250 Baht?
I am enjoying "the wind in my face," a term from "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance." But, it is easy to get caught up in the destination rather than the journey.
I get the last room at Wild Orchid Villa. It is smaller than desired, then attempt to reserve a bus to the airport in the morning. Due to the Thai New Year, there will be no buses to the airport in the morning.
The next morning, the streets are more deserted than usual. (Bangkok normally wakes up at 10 a.m., but today it will be later.) In this New Year's Day traffic, my taxi to the airport takes only thirty minutes. I am at the airport very early.
My Dad arrives on-time. We are happy to connect, and we take a taxi back. The taxi parks near the hotel. Both of us are splashed with water, just a little, by celebrators. We go to the room, then venture out a little. Khaosan Road is jammed with serious celebration and is virtually impassable. I suspect that my Dad wonders what he is doing in Thailand.
We venture another direction, to Siam Square, via river ferry. We shop for shoes, and only find full priced brand names. The trip back, by taxi, gets us close to the guest house, but Thais rub a whitewash solution on our faces, which make us look like Native Americans on a warpath. We are also sprayed with water. The block past the National Gallery has the most celebration. As Eastern music plays, lines of people, do a bunny hop-type dance and spray water and gently rub on more face paint to "make you clean." Thais say, "happy, happy, " and I respond "Happy New Year." When I get to the Guest House, I take a shower.
I try to ease my dad into the Thailand lifestyle by ordering the Guest House Hawaiian pizza, which tastes very American. The celebration, which is the equivalent of Christmas, the Fourth of July and New Year's Eve, is just in front of us, and is troubling to my father. He wonders if this party is going on over the whole city. I answer that the party is throughout Thailand and also throughout Laos and Cambodia.
The next morning, we get up earlier than the revelers and talk to Toon at Toon Travel. She sells us a tour package to the River Kwai for 500 Baht. It is an all day trip, which includes elephant rides. Dad tells Toon about the movie, and its actors.
We see the cemetery, a museum and the "Bridge Over River Kwai". Then, we take a train and have lunch. I ride a balding elephant with floppy ears. The ride is much longer than I anticipate. A smiley Korean man accompanies me as Dad waits in the shade. Next, we traverse over some rickety bridges in order to float down the river in a bamboo raft. The Korean puts on his life jacket and hops in the water. Dad and I stay dry. After our long ride back, we walk the last block to the guest house and are splashed in the ongoing celebration.
I sense that Dad must be thinking about buying airline tickets to the closest country that is free of water pistols. I accommodate the next morning, by checking us out of our guesthouse and getting us a bus to the airport. When we arrive at the ticket counter, we are told that we are a day early.
The National Gallery is an art museum on our block which features traditional art and a couple of pieces painted by the king, drawn the 1960's. It is still morning and the reveling hasn't wound up yet. We get back to the Guest House only slightly wet.
From 6 p.m. to 10:30 p.m. on our final night, we see Thai boxing, which seems more civilized than American boxing, perhaps because the majority of boxers weigh 100 pounds. A taxi driver tries to scam me by demanding 250 Baht for the short ride to the boxing center, so we exit, and Dad is wondering why I am so upset. I do not think I am upset. When I ask at the guesthouse how much the ride should cost, I am told 60 Baht, which is about what I thought. We pay 60 Baht, a few minutes later, and then 100 Baht for the return ride.
After our practice run, the trip to the airport is easy. We are first in line for our flight.
We arrive in Singapore, use the ATMs to get local currency, and search for a tourist counter, then reserve a room near Chinatown.
Dad and I walk all over Chinatown in a random fashion, as I am getting bearings. Eventually, we find a place to eat in the basement of a mall. Then we walk some more. This is my way of introducing myself to a town, but I learn that others may not want to walk for as much distance as I typically do.
Singapore is hard to figure out. There is some impressive architecture, but where is everything? What is enclosed in all of the big buildings? But, it makes sense that so much of Singapore is indoors and air-conditioned, as we are 100 km North of the equator. Thailand would benefit from a little more air-conditioning.
The Western influence in Singapore is remarkably strong. This is nothing like Thailand. I am a little uneasy because of the caning of the American a few years back. I won't get caned for jaywalking. I am unwilling to jaywalk here!
We ride double decker City Buzz busses and sight-see all over the city. The sitting averages out the long walk the night before. The ethernet connection in the room facilitates more inactivity. I am drained (by stress?), so the Internet and the bus seats are appreciated. Dad goes next door to buy water and finds a grocery store in a mall.
The next day, we go to the Asian Civilisations Museums, arriving just as tours begin. The tour guide convinces me that Singapore is a "melting pot" type crossroads with influences from all over the world. The wide variety of art and relics attests to this. Singapore might feel more like Great Britain than like Bangkok, if you blind-folded me and put me in a mall somewhere away from the heat. On our way back, we notice yet another enclosed mall complex, with an American bookstore, and a grocery store, just a few blocks from the hotel.
I wonder how my recollection of the past week varies from my father. Will we remember the Thai New Year as a unique celebration that we were fortunate to attend, or as an annoyance that caused us to wash our clothes too often? Will we remember Singapore's Chinatown as a pleasant walk, or as an overlong meandering trip? Will we remember Thai boxing or a taxi driver that wanted 250 Baht?
I am enjoying "the wind in my face," a term from "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance." But, it is easy to get caught up in the destination rather than the journey.
Labels: travel
posted by David Rasmussen at 10:20 AM
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