Back in Bangkok

1 January 2012, Bangkok, Thailand.

New years day and I back in Thailand, taking a well earned break after 11 months of teaching in Plymouth.  I arose early before seven since my brother had invited me to give alms to the monks in Soi Wat Kairk, Silom in the business district of Bangkok.  After getting dressed, I rang him but there was no reply. I went and knocked on his door but still no reply. I decided to go alone.

It was already very warm when I left the apartment. The streets were quiet with very little traffic but when I got to Soi Wat Kairk, it was full of noise, people and the air was thick with smoke from the street vendor’s charcoal burners. Everyone wanted to make merit on New Years day.

I bought some oranges and gave them to an old monk. I took my feet out of my flip flops, put my hands together and listened to his chanting and then walked home.

I showered, did my morning exercises, meditated for a short while and then rang my brother again. I was hungry now and wanted my breakfast. 

Still no answer. What had happened to his plan of starting the New Year by getting up early and making merit? Like many a great man before me, I decided that if breakfast wouldn’t come to me then I must go to find breakfast.

Purposely, with stomach growling, I ventured out in the streets again. I remembered haven seen a rather nice looking Thai coffee shop called Wavee Coffee in Surawong Road.  Perhaps a small cup of freshly ground coffee the way I liked it…hot, black and strong enough to float a horseshoe in it with a freshly made croissant… As my Gentle Reader may recall, I am a man of simple pleasures and tastes… 

I found the place. The closed sign on the door said that it would open at 9.00 as this was a public holiday. I checked my phone. It was 9.15. A walkway around the side of the shop led to a very pleasant, leafy garden and also a side entrance to the shop. I peered inside the glass door and saw a young Thai man doing something behind the counter. I pushed open the door and went in. It was dark and cool inside with the delicious smell of fresh coffee and cakes. I love coffee shops. The young man looked up and smiled. A young woman appeared out of nowhere and smiled too. I smiled back of them. It was a smiley sort of moment.

“Are you open yet?”

“Yes, open. But coffee machine broken so no coffee. You can have cocoa and

something from the bakery.”

“Do you have croissants?”

“Croissants? No, not have croissants.”

Reluctantly, I decided to look for a Starbucks. It would have been so nice to have eaten breakfast in that shady, leafy garden.

I eventually found a Starbucks and it had everything necessary for a decent breakfast.  I read the Nation which is one of Thailand’s two serious English broadsheet newspapers. The editorial expressed the wish that the guardian spirits residing in the Kingdom of Thailand might grant everyone a happy and prosperous new year to come. I wonder what people would make of the Times if they printed that…

At about eleven, I got a call from my brother. He’d just woken up. I returned to my room and checked out. I decided that there was no more point in staying in Bangkok.  I would go to Koh Samet, a small tropical island not far from Bangkok for a few days instead. After a four hour journey via skytrain and bus, I arrived at Ban Phe where I could take a boat to the island. I arrived at the island about 5.30 but we had to wait a long time to dock at the pier because there were already six or seven big boats, each carrying hundreds of people, waiting to land.  I started to realise that going to a popular holiday island on New Years Day probably wasn't the best idea.

At last it was our boats turn. We had to walk across a rather dodgy plank of wood to get to the land. I decided to just get a cheap room and then look for a better place in the morning. Alas, everywhere was full. On and on I walked into the hot, gathering dusk, my rucksack heavy upon my sweaty shoulders. 

Everyplace I asked, the answer was the same. Full.  At last I came to a place where the young girl at the counter – she couldn’t have been more than fourteen – tells me that they have one room left at 600 baht. Brilliant, I’ll take it, says I. She takes my money plus a 500 baht deposit and then leads me into the trees. Further and further into the dark and threatening jungle we go and I’m treading uneasily through the dry leaves in my flip flops. Thailand is home to all kinds of venomous snakes who don’t take kindly to being trodden on.

At last we come to an ugly, run down little room of concrete and corrugated iron. The shared “bathroom” is in a separate hut and consists of a large oil drum filled with none too clean water and a small plastic bowl to act as a scoop. The toilet is of the squat, non flushing variety.  The girl unlocks the rusty padlock of the door of my room and then gives me the key. 

"Here your room," she says and then leaves me.

The door creaks open and I enter the hut. A florescent tube flares as I hit the light switch illuminating an old double mattress standing against the wall behind the single bed. The orange sheets are synthetic and are adored with red hearts and white writing across the top and bottom.

Treat for two... time for a lick… turn for a lick…treat for a lick…

Opposite the bed is a cupboard. I think to put my rucksack in there so that it is out of sight. I open the door. It is full of old blankets, bits of plastic, an iron and all sorts of odds and ends. But the thing that catches my eye is a large black spider, bigger than my hand, who crouches motionless, glaring at me out of green eyes. Carefully, I shut the door again.

“If you don’t disturb me then I won’t disturb you,” I tell him.

 I hope rather than expect that a Thai spider living in a cupboard in the middle of the jungle will understand English better than Thai humans who work in the tourist trade.

The next day is decidedly better. After spending a sweaty night on the cheap sheets, I go to take breakfast. The filter coffee is hot, black and strong. The baked beans on toast are typically only lukewarm but they do the job. I return to my room to pack my rucksack.

A group of Thais are sitting around a concrete table at the bungalow next door. They are drinking Regency whiskey and eating som dum. The cheerful beat of the north east comes from a battered stereo. Everyone seems very happy. One of them hails me.

“Come! Come have a drink with us! It’s good luck for new year!”

He pours the Regency neat into a plastic beaker. I take a polite sip and wish them chok dee. The fiery liquid burns its way down my throat I walk away through the trees, my back already sweaty under my rucksack. I wonder if the spider will miss me.