Nearly Stranded in Siam

Welcome back to my blog. It’s been a minute, but in my defense, I’ve been busy. While I would love to maintain the illusion that this publication is always updated in real time, I don’t always have the time to sit around and upload photos and pen thoughtful musings. Not only was I busy with the travels you read about here, I also had to move out of my dorm, pack up all of my possessions into a single carry-on and a backpack, and take an exam. Only now, from the comfort of my couch, do I have the leisure to reminisce about my adventures. So read on…

After I visited my good friend Henry in his adopted country of South Korea in January, he returned the favor in late April. I showed him around Singapore for a few days, but given Singapore’s size, there’s not necessarily a whole lot to do. So we decided to embark for a more alluring destination: Thailand. A few days in Bangkok, followed by an overnight train to Chiang Mai for a few more days before we went our separate ways. Only one problem: Thailand was engulfed in a record-breaking heatwave that killed 30 people the week we were due to arrive (and that’s thirty Thai people, not farang such as myself). Usually, the heat of the tropics comes with a reliability you can set your watch to. After being in Singapore for 9 months, I can tell you that 9 times out of 10, the weather is gonna be sunny with the temperature between 80 and 90 degrees and enough humidity to turn your ass into a swamp in less than 10 minutes.

So when a peak at the weather report in Thailand revealed triple digits across the board, I was slightly concerned that I would step out of the airport and spontaneously combust. But to my surprise, a stroll through Lumpini Park revealed not only were people out and about like normal, but it didn’t feel that hot out. I suppose being in Singapore helps prepare the body for this kind of weather, because it honestly felt hotter in the more-humid Singapore despite being nearly 20 degrees cooler.

You can find a white guy wearing a Larry Bird jersey at any court in the world, heat wave be damned

Our hostel was in a popping area of Bangkok thronged with tourists known as Silom. More specifically, the hostel was on the sixth floor of a building that housed a gay club on the first floor. Every time we tried to enter our hostel at night, we would get bum-rushed by bouncers as we loudly declared “hostel!” But the deafening house music was not audible from the hostel, so really I had no complaints.

Our hostel was perfectly adequate for $17 a night

Our first day in Bangkok was spent exploring the local neighborhood and eating like starving men. Thai iced teas and various forms of grilled meats were demolished. The highlight for me was the pomelo salad with fermented shrimp paste pictured on the right. It hit all of the flavors in a single bite: sweet, sour, salty, spicy, and umami. The waiter double checked that we could handle intense fishy fermentation, and we assured him that we weren’t your average Americans in search of pad thai. That night we ended up at a free jazz show at a local food hall a few blocks from our hostel.

Henry enjoyed an iBeer, a relic from the iPod Touch days

Breakfast the next morning found us at a famous old spot in Chinatown, where we queued alongside Chinese tourists before sitting down to the Thai equivalent of a greasy spoon diner breakfast. The food was solid and dirt cheap, and they had an orange kaya (bottom right) that was interesting.

Some wandering around took us to a temple followed by a brief cruise on the river taxi. You have to take your shoes off to enter the temple, and I practically burned my feet on the scorching marble floor.

Here are two very strange local delicacies (?)

We were on a quest for crab noodles that had been served by an old man on the street for close to four decades, with Michelin recognition. We hopped in a tuk-tuk for the final leg of our journey, only to find the stall shuttered. It was May 1st, Labor Day everywhere except the United States (thanks to the Cold War), and much of the city was closed. After some gabbing with a local woman, our driver motored off and brought us to a restaurant that served the same dish. Given that my knowledge of Thai was limited to “hello” and “thank you” and I didn’t even know the name of the dish, it was incredibly fortunate that our driver got the memo and saved us. Especially because these noodles were the best thing I had eaten in quite some time.

It’s hard to describe the flavors of this dish, mostly because it’s now been like a month and I don’t really remember. But as you can see, the crab and the noodles are separate, and you assemble bites on a plate (if you have the patience, which I barely did). The glass noodles are drenched in an addictive slightly sweet sauce, and the entire affair is served with a salsa-esque dipping sauce that is to die for.

Some more wandering ensued

We ended up back in Chinatown for dinner, where we feasted on pork soup, fried prawns, stir-fried morning glory, and more.

The next morning, we grabbed a local soup breakfast at a popping spot just across the street.

Can’t forget the bev!

I hope you’re not sick of eating soup in 100 degree heat, because it’s more soup for lunch. We hopped on Grab bikes to check out the street food around the Victory Monument, built to commemorate the Thai victory over Vichy France in 1941.

The monument itself was not very interesting, just an obelisk in the middle of a traffic circle, but the streets and alleys around it are teeming with good eats. We accidentally wandered into a private office park before being politely redirected by a security guard to a local spot for boat noodles, a classic Thai noodle soup made with pork and beef, as well as blood.

This restaurant was essentially a big tent in a parking lot with rickety metal tables and chairs. The kitchen area was roped off, with signs prohibiting photos (to protect the secret recipe, I guess). The portions of noodles are tiny, but a quick look at how our dining companions had stacked empty bowls indicated that eating many portions and getting to try different types of noodles and broths was the move. They served bottles of sugarcane juice in tin cups with ice, and while it was delicious, I couldn’t resist the siren song of a glass bottle of Coca-Cola. We also got some fishball skewers to boot. The restaurant was patronized in nurses in scrubs on their lunch break, and we ended up at their hospital a short while later after wandering around trying to find an old palace.

After broiling in the sun for a little while longer, we headed to a fabric market in search of souvenirs like T-shirts to be worn ironically or counterfeit NBA jerseys. We found neither, so we ended up indulging in a lengthy spa treatment consisting of massages and pedicures. A quick glance at the time revealed that it was time to get moving.

Much to my delight, Bangkok has a gleaming subway and monorail system, complete with pastry shops where Henry sticks out like a true American

Here’s the story of how we almost ended up on a third-class train to Chiang Mai, which would have been 14 hours of hard-backed seats without air-conditioning. Back in March when we booked the flights, I booked an overnight train from Bangkok to Chiang Mai, in a sleeper car with AC. I bought the tickets through a third-party company, and we had to pick them up from their office at some point before our train. (Side note: this was an odd business practice, given that I had bought bus tickets from a similar company before and they just sent me a PDF of the ticket via email). On the day of our train, we planned to swing by their office in the evening before making our way to the train station. The office closed at 8pm, and our train departed shortly after. About an hour prior, we left the hostel, which should have given us plenty of time. However, I hadn’t factored in the bumper-to-bumper traffic that plagued Bangkok, along with most Southeast Asian cities, during rush hour. The minutes ticked away in agonizing fashion as we sat, immobile in our Grab. I sprinted through the underground mall to their office, only to find it shuttered. It was 8:02.

We were truly fucked now (pardon my French). With no train tickets, and a hostel waiting for us in Chiang Mai, I was despondent. We decided to proceed to the train station anyway, and figure out what to do from there. There was another train to Chiang Mai leaving that night at 10:30, but the only seats available were in third class, a budget-friendly option popular with members of the Thai military going home for the holiday weekend. I had flashbacks to my youth, when my parents decided to ride the rails in third class in India simply for the experience, and then we got stuck on the train and missed our stop because the train was so jam-packed that we could not reach the exits. After a brief huddle, we decided to conduct some research on other options before committing to a hot, uncomfortable, sleepless night. In a moment of desperation brainstorming, I threw out the idea of renting a car and driving to Chiang Mai (despite the fact that neither of us had international drivers’ licenses). We were now firmly in Planes, Trains, and Automobiles (1987) territory. I was scouring the same third-party websites that I had purchased the train tickets from for night buses, and I was coming up with nothing. I started to mentally prepare myself for the third-class train (at the very least, it would make for a good story). Henry, through his research, had located a nearby bus station that might have night buses to Chiang Mai, based on what some random guy said on Reddit a few months ago. We decided to check it out on a lark, after purchasing third-class train tickets as insurance.

The bus station was our salvation (thank you, kind stranger). There were a plethora of comfortable night buses leaving for Chiang Mai, as well as a 7-Eleven to grab snacks (we didn’t have time to eat dinner).

After grabbing some 7-Eleven paninis (in flavors like carbonara), we were on our way to Chiang Mai, after all of that.

My 7-Eleven panini and the bus station cafe in Chiang Mai from which I sourced two badly-needed iced lattes when we arrived at about 7 am

First order of business was to find some grub.

This place only had one thing on the menu, and it was this rich, spicy noodle soup. The stall was run by an old husband and wife, and when we ordered some shaved ice for dessert (I guess they had two things on the menu) the old guy grated the old-fashioned way.

Chiang Mai was the capital of the La Na kingdom from 1296 to 1775, and there is an entire “Old City” within the antique walls and moat chock-full of temples and ruins.

I kept seeing massage places that advertised to employ ex-inmates, and also a women’s prison that looked more like a resort. I never got the story on this. I’m all for the employment and rehabilitation of ex-prisoners, but was a little puzzled why there was so much of it in Chiang Mai.

This is the former moat and the walls of the Old City

Loyal readers of my blog will recall that when I was in Melaka, I met up with Simon, my friend from high school, and we vowed to meet up again. He had previously spent a month in Chiang Mai on his study abroad program, and was back to work at an elephant sanctuary. We met up for dinner, and I introduced Henry and Simon, who hit it off. After a dinner of khao soi at a night market, Simon took us to a local jazz bar, where we were treated to a fantastic show. The first band played all originals of a funky jazz fusion variety, and featured a very talented 15 year-old on the drums. The second band was a larger ensemble with horns, but played covers including “Wonderwall” and “No Diggity”. After the second band was done, we climbed down from the precarious balcony and left the bustling establishment.

It was around this time that the munchies hit with the force of a Mack truck. Simon explained to me and Henry the concept of “Wingz Zabb”, which is unique to Thai KFC and has amassed a cult following. He was very persuasive, and we ended up at the local KFC. It’s hard to explain the flavor of Wingz Zabb, but it’s salty and spicy and tangy – almost like Takis flavored chicken. Delicious.

I also learned that KFC in Thailand has Portuguese egg tarts, and they’re not too bad either. The whole experience definitely exceeded my expectations, but I was in a very receptive mood.

The next morning, Simon coordinated a visit to the elephant sanctuary where he has been working.

Simon’s coworkers are the mahouts, who feed and take care of the elephants. Apparently, the mahouts are either from the Karen ethnic group (who have a long history of mahouting (is that a word?)) or are refugees from Myanmar. Either way, they do not speak Thai. Very interesting.

After feeding the elephants a substantial quantity of sugarcane, we went for a stroll with them. Unlike me and Simon, Henry had worn shoes and socks rather than sandals. When we started walking through a creek, Henry ditched his shoes and went barefoot. Respect. We also got to bathe the elephants by throwing buckets of water on them.

A little night market action that evening wrapped up our day. This Thai sausage was full of lemongrass and delicious.

The following morning, after Henry left for the airport, I hit up another boat noodle spot, this one recommended by Portland legend and Northern Thai cuisine expert Andy Ricker, of Pok Pok fame. Here, the noodles were served out of a literal boat.

With a few hours to kill and some baht to burn, I headed to a famous market in Chinatown.

This spot is famous for its donuts shaped like animals. Of course I had to get an elephant.

And that did it for my time in Thailand. I really wished I had done another trip there during my time in the region. I flew back to Singapore so I could take an exam and pack up all of my possessions into the trusty green suitcase that has now lasted me something like eight years and thousands of miles. But I had one last stop before returning back to the States. Stay tuned for my jaunt to the Peoples’ Republic of China…