Do Not Step Into the Lotus Lily Garden

My timelines are getting a little bit fudged. It is so infrequent, these days, that I actually sit down and write, that I am never able to finish an entire post in a single sitting. Of course, by the time I return to finish it, I have enough material for another post. But! I am on a 10 hour bus ride now, so hopefully I'll have the patience, the time, and the battery life to play catch up.

I'm in Thailand, these days, for a stunningly brief period. I thought a month and a half in Nepal was short, so this week is just going way to fast. I arrived into Bangkok Friday night, promptly panicked when the ATM looked like it wasn't taking a non-chipped card, panicked further when the cell company's card reader was not working and I had no cash and nothing I could do and then I took a deep breath and found another ATM and then it also didn't work and: apparently I was just putting my card in the wrong way. It's fine.

Before I continue, though, I think I should go into my travel strategy a bit. It does not seem to be terribly similar to other people's, and I'm not sure it's quite optimal (what the hel does optimal mean, in this case?) or really makes sense, but I'm content with it, more or less. There are two main halves to it: Urban Exploration, and Rural Exploration.

Urban Exploration, to paint in broad strokes, consists of walking. More specifically, Upon the start of the day, I get up at a leisurely pace and then choose some destination for the day. What particular destination this is is not so important though: only a minority of the time will be spent there. I look it up on Google maps, and instead of paying to close attention to the details, figure out the general direction that it is located in. Alternatively: I just choose a direction at random. With my chosen direction on hand, I hit the streets, and this is crucial: I try to get lost. I don't put much effort into it, but I also consult my maps as rarely as possible, navigating by the sun and the moon and basically just trying to find anything interesting. This might include the destination I had planned, it might instead include a back-alley philately museum or strange market or good food or maybe just long stretches of boredom.

My strategy of Rural Exploration is simpler: go up.

In some cases I cannot, in which case I might be on a beach and can instead go swimming or perhaps lie and read (always a good option, really). Or perhaps it is because I am already as high as I can go, in which case another peak must be found. Or I am tired and should just go home. But in all other cases in memory, the strategy has chiefly been to go up.

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And but anyway, the point is that for Bangkok I modified this slightly, and the trip became more gastronomic in nature. I still applied the Urban Exploration method (finding a: a temple complex that was either under repair or construction that was very quiet but had an alligator swimming in a small pool, b: a philately museum that I dared not enter, c: a few good parks, the pond of one which I sat by idley reading for an hour or so before a 4 foot long iguana [? perhaps dragon?] emerged from it and started sticking out its tongue at me], and all sorts of other things). But I did not do it very long, before instead pausing to either get some random and interesting looking type of food or drink. I tried all kinds of meats-on-sticks, baked goods, fresh teas and juiced and generally stuffed myself far too full. But! It was a gastronomic delight! And cheap, which was nice. I would have liked to be able to know what any of the fruits, vegetables or meats were (chicken? Hopefully, mostly chicken), but the mystery was also nice. I do not know the ratio, of time spent exploring to time spent eating. It was high.

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I drew out some flow charts, of how this all works:

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In Bangkok, I also mostly skipped or just glanced aat many of the the things that as a tourist, I probably should have gone to. I skipped the main temples, the palace, the museums. Instead, time spent not wandering aimlessly or eating was spent a large extent on wandering through markets. The Amulet Market by the Chao Phraya River (and, in parts, overhanging it) and the Golden Palace is full of stalls selling, as one might expect, amulets. Amulets of all sizes and colors, although mostly gold or bronze or metal of some sort, many of the Buddha, many of who I have gathered is a former king, much respected and lauded throughout the city (although, at first glance it is difficult to differentiate government-mandated laudery and genuine respect; I suspect that there might in fact be both, for many people). Later on, I came across a market in Chinatown spanning many alleys and side streets, getting tangled up in the growth of the city and making it hard to tell what was outside and what was inside. I am not one for shopping, usually, and in fact frequent;y the thought just stresses me out. But the variety of goods, the variety of people, and me just having no idea what is going on! Lots of pretty things, lots of cheap things, it is like a museum and it is easy to get lost in. Impulse purchases are kind of the only way that I can get shopping done, so after seeing some watches and recalling that I vaguely had been feeling a watch would be helpful I went and bought one. But: the impulse is fleeting, so I worked quickly, not thinking about much. I handed the saleswoman 1000 Baht instead of 100 (she gave me correct change, there was just a lot of it), and then, walking away as I tried to put it on I noticed: it was not actually running, and after jiggling it a bit I could not figure out how to make it go. I guess you get what you pay for. (Later, I discovered the little plastic tab I had to pull, and that it did in fact work but previously I had been too embarrassed to sit down in public and figure the thing out). I also bought some juice, but I do not know of what. It was dark purple and not grape, and rather sickly-sweet. Not my thing, but okay, I guess.

The last market (okay, actually the first one, but a natural climax) I visited was the Chatuchak Market, a weekend market that the NYT had suggested I visit, with the chief selling point (to me) being that you could purchase any type of reptile you desired there. To clarify: I did not and do not desire any type of reptile, and the NYT was rather talking about the great variety of shops and things that you could find within. After the first hour, I must admit, I was disappointed: I had found great variety, I had found T-shirts, and handicraft and soaps and tea, the usual preponderance of food, a few massage parlours scattered confusingly in air conditioned glass rooms in the outdoor market, cutlery and light bulbs, but no reptiles. Another hour, however, revealed the pet section, where yes: any reptile. Snakes and lizards and iguana, live worms and insects for (I assume) their feeding, containers of all shapes and sizes within which one could raze your reptile of choice. And: that was not all. I found horned toads being sold in plastic cups, with the caps on. I found a variety of dogs, puppies and older ones. They seemed to come in two main varieties: already wearing a bow, or not (you could, of course, purchase bows next door). The chickens I assume were mostly for food or eggs, but they were parked right next to the parakeets and other birds I could not identify. There were also: a lot of squirrel-like animals? Perhaps they were just squirrels, but in many colors for that: browns and reds and blacks and whites. And then, there were the monkey-like things that could fit in your palm. I had expected there to be for sale fruits and vegetables and perhaps fish that I could not identify. I had not counted on their being unidentifiable live mammals. And of course: the market went on, and I got properly lost and confused about what direction was north, a relatively rare thing if I do say so myself. I wandered around and found some high end clothing boutiques; I seemed to be inside again. Large statues of horses reared out from the walls, ornately carved gateways, 4 by 3 meters large were for sale. Eventually, grasping for air, I did emerge and found myself in a wonderfully pleasant park, well-trimmed and expansive with tasteful statuary and flowers and a sign, demarcating no particular region, which requested poetically “Please do not step in to the lily lotus garden.” It was in this park which I had the unfortunate experience with the iguana perturbed at my reading habits, but otherwise: quite pleasant, and a wonderful juxtaposition with the teaming Chatuchak.

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A further digression into my travel habits: when visiting temples and holy places to which I do not belong, there is a certain posture that I take. I want to convey respect and keen interest, to acknowledge that I understand I do not really belong and beg forgiveness for my intrusion, while at the same time to convey that I am desirous of figuring out what the whole thing is really about. I walk slowly with my hands held behind my back, keeping my eyes open and looking and listening, trying to take in every detail. It is not entirely conscious, at this point, especially the hands-behind-my-back thing which to be honest I find rather silly (and several times in India I had the awkward experience of noticing the Ilan was doing the same thing, and we were looking silly together, so it is not a unique thing).

My hostel was clean, comfortable and relatively cheap, and close to Khao San Road, which I knew only by name as a kind of place to be close to, where lots of travelers end up. I discovered that what this actually means is: it is full of backpackers and tourists, full of loud bars and clubs and people selling touristy shirts and tank-tops saying things about beer and partying. It is not, all things considered, really my type of place. But walking along it late at night on my second night, I discovered: I had assumed the same respectfully-curious posture that I am in the habit of assuming at holy places! Because the thing is: I was still curious, and still conscious of not really belonging there, trying to figure out what these people were like, how they managed to travel halfway around to world to hang out in a pub with a bunch of other travelers? And I was trying, in my thoughts, not to be too deprecating. Although I might have been a bit prideful about the whole thing, I was mostly just thinking about their perspectives, and the perspectives of the Thais on the other side of what was a decidedly very commercial interaction, and all of everything that entails. And I was walking slowly, with my hands behind my back, standing out like a sore thumb. Upon noticing this, I quickly got a hold of myself and took up the gate that I use at concerts or parties with lots of music: bouncing to the rhythm of the clubs I passed by, and looking what I imagine to be a little bit cooler, I carried on down the street, thinking the same thoughts, and quickly escaped to go sit by the river and contemplate the cities reflection in a quiet park.

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I really enjoyed Bangkok. It had some fascinating architecture, some excellent parks, good air conditioning (oh, also: it was way too hot), and the smells were wonderful where they were not awful. I was told before coming that the city presented a wonderful auditory experience and to be honest, I did not experience that; olfactorily, though, the city was in another ballpark. And the khlongs, colorful and long ferries running up and down the river painted a beautiful picture, especially in contrast with the soaring sky scrapers and ancient temples (Myanmar had, it feels, more gold, and the jeweled inlay I have seen so far still does not surpass the Mughals, but the roofs of these temples! Finally, some proper pagodas that aren't just another name for stupas with boring domes and points, but multi-layered, crenelated and horned! The temples looked quite nice). I did not sample a sufficient quantity of the foods: I am told that I needed to try some mangosteen, some Som Tum (although presumably, me being in Thailand for another few days, that is still achievable). I did not sample enough of the culture, having talked to very few people, having visited no museums, having not visited the bare minimum of the splendid (so I hear) Golden Palace. But, I'm off! On, as I mentioned, a 10 hour long bus ride, going north to Chiang Mai.

While researching travel around here, a lot of the internet suggested flying or taking an overnight train, but I opted instead for a day bus (shorter, I might add ,than the train, although maybe not in hours-spent-conscious). I have discovered: I really enjoy bus travel! I can sit in the back seat, I don't have to drive, I can watch the countryside and I can fall asleep. I can read, and glance up from time to time for long boughts of watching the land evolve, change over the hours and the hundreds of kilometers. And there is air conditioning! And it is the cheapest option! The first few hours were flat, farm land or wilderness after we had emerged from the outskirts of Bangkok. It reminds me in many ways of the drive to Montreal from just north of the Vermont border: very sparsely populated, very green, very farms. Although the palm trees rather ruin this illusion. After four hours or so, the first hills emerged in the distance, and they have been increasing in frequency ever since. A few towering rock knife-edges we've passed close by have temples and monasteries set against their sides: these large Buddhist temples seem more frequent than anything of comparable size in India, Nepal or Myanmar (although Hindu temples are probably more frequent, they are also most commonly just a small room, a building that could not fit a person or, say, a large dog next to the statues within). Also, strangely frequent along this highway, despite the fact that I have not noticed any towns bigger than what amounts to a truck stop and a few houses: shops selling large quantities of large, colorful statues? Of animals and Buddhas? Don't really know what that is all about. And now the sun is on its way down as the mountains get higher and higher, as I get closer and closer to Chiang Mai and the adventure that that city holds for me, and I am sleepy and hungry and today was a day well spent.