Blog 23 - Farewell to Thailand

My last week in Thailand, and probably the last ACTION BLOG, like my bungee jumping or other life threatening hobbies you shouldn’t tell my mum or insurance company about. Small confession, I’m writing this in the airport lobby on Saturday the 28^th, waiting for my plane. I’ve been so caught up with sleep and generally detesting Bangkok I haven’t gotten round to planning my last epic.

Well, that’s my idea of Bangkok given away early. I left Chiang Mai on the Tuesday 24^th overnight train. It had so many delays, the twelve hour trip took nearly seventeen hours. That’s seventeen. 17. One-seven. A.k.a a fucking long time to be on a train. The guy opposite me also seemed to be dying of lung cancer, as every few minutes I’d get a sound like a pair of ruined lungs tried in vain to dislodge the tar whilst the heart tried to get enough oxygen around the near-cadaver to sustain its efforts. Funny, since that’s exactly what it was. Whenever there was a stop, he’d jump off and chain smoke for ten minutes, before getting on, coughing and complaining to me that he had a cough. I’m not a doctor, but maybe you’re allergic to cats? He also brought on the train whisky, soda water and ice so he could have liquor on the rocks throughout the trip. He went through two hip-flask size bottles, then when he wasn’t coughing he began burping a delightful scent of stale whisky and greasy food into my berth – forcing me to spend half a day wearing my buff as a face mask.

So, Bangkok wasn’t off to a great start. After I picked up the package Sabine had sent me from the orphanage director (a beautiful bag of World Expo merchandise - Thai 3D art, engraved gold coin, pin for my Trilby hat e.t.c.) I got the taxi to DS67 Suites – my chosen boutique. It was a tiny little place sandwiched between a much bigger hotel and a 7-11. The website offered free wi-fi, air-con, modern amenities and a complimentary breakfast. And it was dead on. The room was a little poky, but cosy enough to feel safe. The internet was great, enough for Skype video calls every evening, even if it was a little slow at peak times, the air-con was arctic and the double bed was sumptuous. For roughly £20 a night, it wasn’t bad. It was also situated right next to a BTS (Bangkok sky train) terminal, so I could be anywhere in a few minutes.

That day I just collapsed whilst watching “The Walking Dead” on YouTube (check it out) and slept. After a comfort food lunch of chicken mayo sandwiches I enjoyed a scalding hot power shower with shampoo and shower gel before I emerged to search for food. There was a night market of food stalls a twenty minute walk from the hotel and I took pleasure in a thick noodle and pork gravy soup. A very simple Thai dish that was just the thing for a cold evening. Though, the heavens opened on my way home, dampening my new-found enthusiasm.

The next morning I was determined to do some sight-seeing. There was the Grand Palace and Wat Phra Kaew – the temple of the Jade Buddha. 

Though, the trip there led me from disliking Bangkok to hating it outright. Everything I love about Thailand is not here. The calm relaxed atmosphere? Gone. The friendly people who just want a chat? Gone. The polite and reserved Thais? Gone. The affordability? Gone. The genuinely nice and kind hearted street sellers? Gone. Everyone was in a rush, and couldn’t care less who was in the way. Everyone who talked to me immediately wanted to sell me something or force me in a tuk-tuk. At one point, a man tried to tell me Wat Phra Kaew was closed (a common trick, they say it’s closed then direct you to a “friend who give you special price” as you’re carted off to a tourist trap) as I walked past him, he shouted that I was a “fucking idiot”. In this country being quiet and respectful is an unofficial law, it was shocking to hear someone say this. The street sellers turned to insane beggars on the streets, shouting and crying to themselves as they slept in gutters. No one turned a blind eye. At one point, a woman threw some corn at me then demand that I pay her 20B. When I refused, she began screaming at me and her son attempted to beat me up, as I vaulted a railing and jigged across the road.

Wat Phra Kaew from a distance

 I love Nong Khai. I love Chiang Mai. I love Thailand. But Bangkok didn’t feel like Thailand, it felt like any other sprawling metropolis. Greedy and smelly, just becoming a crude imitation of the West. Imagine the slums of London, the dodgy areas you avoid like the plague. Then copy/paste those districts until it’s roughly the size of Manhattan. And that’s Bangkok, Thailand only in name.

Though, the Palace was staggeringly beautiful. Gold on every single wall, hand-painted frescos around the walls, ornate statues and Naga dotting each roof and spare flat surface and the whole place glittered in the sun.

Contrasted with the city around, it felt like I’d stepped into a different world. The Jade Buddha was incredible. Roughly two feet tall, it was perfect jade with intricate clothing crafted from gold.

Taken at heavy zoom

It was set in a glass palace atop of a literal mountain of other statues and pillars. With a teak ceiling and chanting monks, I thought I’d travelled back in time. Then a tourist called it “quaint and backward” and the illusion shattered. 

That’s another thing that annoyed me about Bangkok – the foreigners. In Nong Khai I could avoid them happily, but here I passed gawping tourists on every street corner. Almost to a man, they were either ignorant of every custom ever, many were pointing towards the Buddha with their feet, or looked like they were here for the many vices of Bangkok. One I swear looked like the most stereotypical heroin addict from any dark, gritty police drama.

But moving on, I spent a good couple of hours at Wat Phra Kaew before moving on.

I saw the sights, toured a couple of temple museums and generally glared at anyone with a Lonely Planet guide who omitted looking at the “Local Customs” Section. Hot pants in one of the most sacred temples – really? I left seeking food and other excitement, so I grabbed a duck rice in a small shop and found the “Corrections Institute” – the Thai equivalent to the London Dungeon. I spent just over an hour there, enjoying some of the very inventive tortures, of which I will display.

The hook is placed under your chin, as you have to lean forwards. Once your toes can't handle it, it sucks to be a jugular

Used to extract confessions - the bar is whinched round so your temples are crushed. Either you condess or your head explodes

You're placed in a giant rattan ball with nails embedded in the sides - then an elephant plays football with it

Then I found the executions part, which was also a lot of fun. The wall was full of various methods, the best of which I will include.

Your sull is bashed open, then molten iron is poured into your brain

The culinary "motared to death"

Simple yet effective

Very creative - your skin is sliced apart until you can wear it like a sarong

 Oh, and these were outlawed in 1908.

I was some model demonstrations of executions through the ages, and it was fun. 

I almost forgot where I was. By now I had been out for nearly eight hours, so I began my trudge back to the hotel.

I started the next day with higher hopes as I planned to go to the aquarium, the biggest in South-East Asia. It was located in a big shopping district called Siam, easily reached by sky-train. I got the premium ticked, an extra 100B, which saved me around 600B. I also got a discount as I had the sky-train map - a 20% reduction. I started off with my complimentary behind the scenes tour, where I saw the main tank (three million litres) and how they raise and hatch the young fish.

I then enjoyed a glass bottom boat tour of same tank, seeing the shoals of fish and the sharks that patrol the area. There’s a great variety of fish on display, from all over the world. After this, I began my walk around, enjoying the “Weird World” and “Deep Sea” areas before I found the “Jungle Area”. I saw otters, the second creature scientifically proven to make you go “awwww”. I saw some water rats, like my Jack Russell terriers but aquatic.

There were also some river fish, like sturgeon and piranha. Some as big as me and weighing as much as my dad. That’s 300kg. 

My inner chef immediately began planning the best barbeque of all time. After this, I found the penguins, the creatures scientifically proven to make you go “awwww”.

After touring around, I found the fish foot massage corner. Which I got a free ten minute treatment from, worth 400B. It’s a type of fish that eats all dead skin, so I dangled my feet and got them nibbled on. With all my cuts, blisters and mosquito bites leaving lovely scabs and scars on my feet, the fishes were perfect. After a while my feet were completely smooth and unmarked. I’d definitely do it again, I’d even pay for it! I wonder if I could get some for England, maybe fill a bath with the little bastards. By now I was in the “Open Sea” department, enjoying the sharks and other nasties.

There was one kid who was a little know it all, pointing out every single fish by breed and behaviour. I felt a sudden surge of hatred for the git, then I realised why. He’s me from a decade ago. I’m pretty sure my irrational (totally rational) loathing of children comes from my own repressed memories of childhood. Paging Dr. Freud.

I found the water tunnel, which was incredible. It was through the main tank, so I’d seen it from all angles by now. I was surprised to see a couple of people underwater, having a tour. I later found out it was a special booking – you’re strapped into a wet suit and old fashioned diving bell helmet and are led around by a diver. The helmet is clear plexi-glass, allowing great view all around. If I come back, it’s something I’d like to try.

Now my tour was at an end, as I passed through the gift shop and saw harassed looking mothers with their demon spawn I felt confirmed in my status as a misanthrope. Yay smugness.  But honestly, great day, enjoyed it a lot.

I walked around the shopping centres, enjoying the sights – and fell in love. In the cookery section, they have Damascus–style Japanese steel knives. The “Katana” collection (see what they did there?) It was about £80 per knife, but so worth it. For those that don’t know me, I’m a big fan of cookery and not a potential mass murderer or accomplice to “Dexter”. I like a sharp knife, it makes everything else so much easier and more fun, as well as looking much more professional. The knives at home leave me chopping and sawing like a medieval executioner. This is how I’ll gauge my wealth in the future – by how perfect my kitchen is. I have blueprints and designs ready, I’m serious.

Window shopping can only last so long though, and eventually I returned home. After packing, I decided to see how many clothes I could wear to cheat luggage checks. Answer? Sixteen shirts and six pairs of trousers/shorts.

Putting on a little round the midle

I’m wearing them right now in the airport, I was still 1kg over though, got away with it through a combination of Thai sweet talking and my dazzling smile.

So, here you find me. Wearing multiple layers and cuddling up to an air-conditioner. My plane leaves in an hour and a half so I’m in the lobby looking professional as I’m typing. Maybe I’ll start saying “yes, buy, sell, yes, merge that company” to mess up all the businessmen doing real work. Or playing Minecraft, can’t actually tell. I’ve had a collection of Thai (middle-aged) women compliment me about my Trilby and I’ve generally charmed my way through customs like Silvio Berlusconi at a party for underage models. Though, in my case with less institutionalised fraud, corporate corruption and significantly less paedophilia.

So, I leave you on a satirical note and wish you the best for the half term week. I’ll be in Hong Kong next time, so all the best. Let’s see if I can fit my bags in a locker and take off fifteen shirts and five pairs of trousers in a bathroom without being arrested. I do like a challenge.

Special Blog - Bungee Jumping

So, March 20^th I did my first bungee jump. I chose X-Centre, even though they persistently spelt it Bungy jump. The jump was 50m, and suspended above a lake. I was picked up from my guesthouse at 9:30am, I wanted to get it out of the way quickly. It was here I met with Margo, Stephanie and Heather, three American girls holidaying in Thailand. Margo was a veteran of a few jumps, and seemed to be the leader. I later learned that Margo had organised the trip and entertainments. The final one picked up was Sam, a French-Canadian from Quebec. All of us were doing the bungee jump and chatted amiably for most of the journey. 

As we arrived, Margo shocked me by speaking almost perfect Thai. It put my basic mangling of the language to shame. We had a while to look around, see the facilities and read the testimonies on the wall. Including this picture of an XKCD comic:

After a while we were called up. It was just us there, it was early and low season. The American girls went first, in an effort to put us to shame. Both jumped pretty much straight away, which set the bar high. Eventually I deigned to be the first lad to try. I got weighed (81kg) and had my feet tied in the cushiony supports.

They were then roped together and I hopped my way to the car. As I was slowly winched up the 50m, I talked to the photographer, a guy by the name of Big. I received some pretty vague instructions, don’t look down, keep arms out e.t.c. 

Nothing useful like safety advice, like what happens if the rope snaps or a zombie apocalypse breaks out half way through. I need to know these things.

So, I reached the top.

I posed for some photos, looking like I had a bad smell in my nose.

I got ready, raised my arms.

Repeated the Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer.

Enjoyed the view one last time.

And jumped.

Great jump, great form, great arse.

"Peter I Can Fly!"

"Oh wait, my mistake"

After a brief second of “what the fuck am I doing?” followed by “you complete and utter fucking moron” I opened my eyes to see the water rushing up to meet me all too fast, reminiscent of when you jumped off a building in Mirror’s Edge, and then the bungee cord snapped taut, dunking my torso in the water. 

As I sprung back, I began to enjoy it. The scariest part is the freefall, for all you know the chord has snapped, wasn’t tied properly, fell off your legs or severed by well trained Ninjas.

Fucking Ninjas

Once you feel the cord around you ankles tighten, you can just enjoy the bouncing. After a while of springing up and down like a puppy when shown a bacon strip, I was reeled in to be released. 

Boing

As I leapt up the steps like a recently intoxicated lamb (I’m enjoying my analogies) I received my certificate of courage, which I plan to hang on my office wall one day alongside my degrees.

Equivalent to an A-Level

After Sam performed his dive, in complete silence, we returned to our hotels. Though, I planned to meet up with Margo and co. later, in visiting various tourist spots around town.

The day later, I met up with them. We first visited the silk factory, where we learned about the industrial murder of thousands of silk worms that goes on, and the truly staggering task of weaving it.

The cocoons are boiled and spun

One worker makes four metres of silk a day. 

Super speed

Each strip of colour must be counted, otherwise they have to unpick the offending strand by hand.

Oh, and each strip will have a few hundred “over-unders” to be unpicked. Though, the effort is truly worth it. The silk clothes were staggeringly beautiful. 

Pictured - a fuckload of dead worms

They ranged from shirts, scarves, ties, dressing gowns – pretty much everything from an M&S store in silk form. 

Many had an iridescent sheen to them, I want to come back rich one day, I have my eye on the silk duvet cover and bedspreads, easily £400. The cheapest shirts were roughly £30, though you could get full length dresses for eye-wateringly expensive amounts

. I felt like I didn’t belong, my clothes looked like dishcloths next to these perfectly tailored exemplars. 

We next moved onto the biggest jewellery shop in the world. No joke. As we walked up the marble steps, and six Thai girls dressed in perfect Thai silk skirts and shirts performed a simultaneous ‘Wai’ I knew I was somewhere special. Were saw a brief tour of jewellery making, people grinding, polishing and cleaning stones as well as setting metal and carving rings. The highlight was the man using a blow torch to melt gold – 1300^oC – whilst holding the cup in his bare palm. Do. Not. Sneeze.

We walked into the main building, a truly staggering creation of black stone in a cavernous room, sort of like what would happen if you gave me unlimited amount of obsidian, strong dentistry drugs and a free afternoon on Minecraft. It was the size of the entrance lobby to Cineworld, but decked in black and every free surface caked with glass encased jewellery. Rings, necklaces, bracelets, brooches, nipple clamps, earrings and hair grips – you name it, the encrust it. The most impressive was the $35,000 brooch, containing a sapphire the size of my fist ringed by gold and rubies. If I saw it anywhere but here I would have dismissed it as fake in a second. I was shocked by the lack of security, I was expecting SAS types in full Kevlar wielding assault rifles on every corner, but the attendants looked like they would break in a strong breeze. Though, I guessed there were hidden cameras tracked my every movement and marksmen squeezing the trigger if you so much as tested the locks or sneaked a picture. My inner magpie was transfixed, and I was overwhelmed by the need to take everything and make a nest. We left that glittering masterpiece of hedonism behind, as I considered becoming a master criminal as a career path.

Finally we arrived at the umbrella factory. For those that don’t know, Chaing Mai is famous for wood-pulp umbrellas, Google it. 

Using the mulberry tree bark, they pulp and stretch it, using a bamboo frame to support it as it’s painted and lacquered. It’s a thing you don’t get it Western culture.

Seen here cutting bamboo into perfect strips

The staff here have done the same thing and mastered their craft, you could see in their practised movements and perfect results.

The sort of discipline you need to dedicate to your art is something rarely found in the West. We just hire these guys. The main attraction was the painters, just hand them an item and give them a design, and they paint it. 

I got a Naga snake on my wallet, and a pair of elephants on my iPod.

I’ll get my Trilby hats and teak belt done tomorrow, and upload the photos.

So, my countdown to Blighty is getting steadily shorter, and I’m doing steadily more insane things. It’ll balance out eventually.