Same Same, But Different: Part I

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Matt’s stomach rumbles. In a good way. In a way that says ‘feed me some delicious Thai food.’ He’s just changed rooms in his bug-infested hotel and is happy to put some distance between himself and that nightmare engine.

The wanderer explores the eastern part of Chiang Mai, outside of the walls that define The Old City district that makes up the town center. He smiles at the juxtaposition there, given that ‘chiang mai’ in Thai actually means ‘new city’. The name sounds almost like New York City, his hometown. He looks into the distance. It’s late September and autumn should just be starting back home…

The air and presence of a motorbike blowing uncomfortably close jolts him back to the midday swelter of the northern province. Matt ducks into a shaded soi.

He doesn’t walk far before he comes upon a tarp-covered lean-to. Inside, two teenage girls and a twenty-something young man are watching TV and chopping papaya with a machete.

Matt inches closer to watch.

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Same Same, But Different: Part II

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“Tell me you have a boyfriend, don’t waste my entire night!” Alex the Chilean complains to the truck at large, lamenting the outcome of the previous evening’s events.

Nico, his partner in crime nods, but not too vigorously. Sudden movements would exacerbate the hangovers the South Americans woke up with. Or rather, were woken up to. Joh, their tour guide, had to almost batter their door down to get them up while the rest of the trekking crew waited in the pick-up truck.

“Oh my buddha!” Joh had wailed in mock anguish as he brought the shambling Chileans to join the rest of the group. His Thai spin on the Western phrase of ‘Oh my god’ was one of his favorite catchphrases to use with his trekking groups. “These two, very hurt. Too much beer, too much ladyboys! Oh my buddha!” He laughs as he closes the truck’s rear lip behind the final two travelers.

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Welcome to Chiang Mai

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“I think we’re finally here,” Rae says in his British accent.

Sure enough the train chugs and then lurches to a stop. Matt recalls the past fifteen hours spent traveling.

* * *

The ride starts off pleasantly enough. Matt boards one of the popular sleeper trains in Bangkok, sharing a berth with two British travelers, Rae and Sarah. Over the course of the first half of the fifteen-hour trip, Rae shares stories from their own island-hopping. His passion is reading. Oddly enough, he’s traveling with physical books (after two consecutive kindles died on him) and has to trade/barter for new ones at every stop. The boys bond over discussing science fiction and the future of human consciousness.

During the ride, Rae and Sarah are gracious company and they ooh-and-aah Matt’s origami. He’s busted out a koi fish this time owing to the fact that the group has nothing but time to kill until they hit the northern province of Chiang Mai. During the conversation, Sarah is a bit more reserved, but Rae picks up the slack.

He’s asking about how the American got into the hobby, what else he can make, and is genuinely interested in the topic. “I had no idea there was this much to origami! I just had no idea!”

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Scheisse!

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It’s impossible to escape the fact that Bangkok is built on a jungle and that said jungle is trying to kill you. The temperature is in ‘the high 30s’ according to the locals and Matt’s American-educated mind runs through a quick conversion calculation. 35º Celsius would be 95º Fahrenheit, so today’s gonna be hot.

Matt takes another gulp from the water bottle he’s carrying.

It’s the last of his bottle, which means it’s time to find a 7-11 and get another one. That’s not hard to do, even down here in the Chinatown district, one’s never more than a block or two away.

The streets teem with gasoline-powered life and amid the cars, trucks, and motorbikes, a wandering pedestrian needs to take care. Channeling his inner Frogger, Matt hops lane by lane to the other side of the asphalt river and the air-conditioned 7-11.

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Khao San Road: Part I

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Bangkok is weird.

Maybe it’s because all of the signs are in in the totally non-Western alphabet and while strange, though that’s easy to write off (but come on, forty-four consonants? Ain’t nobody got time for that!). And the hyper-aggressive suit/food/sex salesmen that are everywhere are only an east-Asian flavor of the pushy salesmen you find in most cities. It’s not that there are squat toilets (Matt hasn’t seen any yet, though it’s supposedly a big thing in the far east). In fact, the most jarring aspect of all is how the cars drove on the ‘wrong’ side of the road. That is to say, the left side (British-style). That is, until you’re stuck behind a car for anything more than three seconds. Then a brief jaunt over the solid yellow line is clearly warranted and no matter what country you’re asking, the Thai drivers are actually driving on the wrong side of the road. Mario Kart: Bangkok.

Oh yea, and the stubborn denial of modern hygiene; restaurant servers, street vendors, and taxi cab drivers (everyone!) cough directly into their hands and the latter pick their noses with a ferocity and shamelessness that trump any kindergarten excavations.

But we’re just getting started.

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Khao San Road: Part II

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The phone is squawking its alarm and an arm reaches over and clicks it off.

A backpacker rolls over in the white sheets, groaning awake in the darkness of his hotel room. For a second he forgets who and where he is, only knowing the yanked-sideways feeling of being awoken mid-sleep cycle. Then he remembers: he’s Matt, he’s in Bangkok, and he needs to get up and get down to Khao San Road to meet up with the Europeans. Matt’s still drunk as he clicks his belt on and though his watch reads 10:30pm, he knows that it’s really Show Time.

“Captain America!” Johan cheers when he sees the American walk up to the same table where they met that morning.

Matt claps Johan and Mike on the back and orders a liter of Chang from the bar before heading back to the evening crowd. Gone are Gio and Tom, replaced by a host of fresh, new faces. Most of them are more European guys, but one is a lady. And she’s pretty. Out of habit Matt slips into the empty chair next to her and begins to flirt.

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Khao San Road, Part III

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Matt’s feet know the walk from his hotel to Khao San Road quite intimately already, though it’s only his second day in Bangkok. He walks up the soi [Thai for ‘lane’, an integral part of the city’s urban layout], passing the frequent street dogs and cats. Do they belong to anyone, everyone, or no one? Matt doesn’t have the Thai vocabulary to ask, despite his mission to learn at least two Thai words a day. If he gets more, amazing, but two is his minimum goal.

He gets his impromptu Thai lessons from that market that lines Chakrabongse Road, the main street leading up to Khao San Road. Block after block of vendors sell strange fish out of stewpots, sugary confections in inflated bags, and grilled meat on sticks. The crowd it generates provides an earnest traveler with ample opportunities to learn some Thai. Usually Matt just gestures at something and raises his arms, palm up, in a questioning stance to get it all going.

“That.” Matt points and assumes the position.

“Ten baht,” the sun-ripened woman on the other side of the greasy, aluminum cart says. When she sees he’s not reaching for any money she adds, “Pork! Pork!”

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Fuck That Guy

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Matt quivers with excitement. With speed and efficiency, the worker-bee stagehands set to the task of deconstructing the arcane knobs and joists of the drum kit and instrument stands left behind by the excellent, but forgettable, opening act. Matt is on the main floor of the Black Cat, a decidedly grungy music venue and nightclub off the main drag in the District of Columbia’s stalwart U Street party neighborhood. The low-ceilings and can-lights of the venue offer no respite from the balmy air outside. The ink blot stamped on his hand by the ticket-takers at the front door is already starting to smudge and run in the damp heat.

“I picked a helluvah day to quit drinking”, he mutters, wiping his thumb at the deformed ideograph.

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