Thailand Supershow: Sunday

Here we are. Sunday. Bangkok. My fingers have been loosened through a precision cocktail of Valium, Xanax, and Hennessy and I am finally ready to type. But first, let's take a quick recap of some events in Jamie's life since he started this Thailand retrospective (what did I originally promise? it would be done in a week? daily, even? you poor gullible bastards), in no particular order:

-I saw the Handsome Furs
-I almost got fired for sending out emails detailing the holes in our school's internet firewall
-I extended my contract till November because I am the biggest masochist
-I did not see The Expendables or Predators because they were only in Korean theaters for half a day. I did however see Piranha 3D, which is probably the best film in the last 20 years.
-I received and lost yet another hat because I suck basically
-After months of broken promises I finally played a cover of "Bad Romance" at open mic. Music history was changed forever.
-I ate dog soup (and possibly dog ears) in what will probably be my next blog post, which will be written approximately 3 years from now
-I saw Zach Hill and was made deafer than I've ever been before
-I experimented with Viagra. Where did I get the Viagra? Well hey, let's talk about that:

SO. BANGKOK. Let's get it on:

Jessie left for the airport while I was still in bed, so it was up to me to check out. I mustered what cast-iron concentration I had and managed to get out of bed around noon, and was rewarded with a complimentary breakfast that I have absolutely no memory of. Sorry. What I do remember is logging onto a nearby computer afterward so I could literally google a list of "shit to do in Bangkok in one day". The commonly heralded sites seemed to be the Floating Market on the river and Wat Phra Kaew, which was supposed to be the highest, falutinest temple in all of Thailand. I had to be at the airport around 8 or 9 to catch a 11:05pm plane, so there we go. Itinerary. What could go wrong? What the fuck could go wrong.

Just know that this was harder to type than it was for you to read. Remember that.

I get in a taxi, and ask him to take me to Wat Phra Kaew, no doubt mispronouncing it into some accidental Thai racial slur. My cabbie was unfazed and after I told him my plans for the day he suggested I actually take a river boat up to the temple because the temple was right off one of the ports, and doing so I could see the Floating Market on the way. Holy shit was that a good plan. Why don't I chat up cabbies more?! I plied him with conversation, and he opened up like the sluttiest of flower petals.

First we talked about the Thai pharmacies, and I was informed that the Chinese-owned ones are the best because they don't ask any questions and generally are not fuck-givers. I had recently seen a sign advertising Viagra at one of the pharmacies, so I asked him as to its availability. He confirmed it was procurable, and added this aside (feel free to read it your most racist lisping Asian accent):

"It crazy! I take one, I go visit girl, I fuck 2, 3 times. You young man, you fuck maybe more! You young, strong man, you try." His voice turned dark. "But no fuck, no take. I take once, I no fuck, ohhhh..." He rubs his belly and mimes stomach pains. Right now we are driving quite quickly on the freeway. "You try Thai girl? Lots of young girl here for you. You want girl? I take you to girls, very young, very cute. Best girls! You try?" I reply, no, I haven't bought any sex as of yet, and I would but gosh darn it I've got to make my plane tonight, and maybe next time in Thailand he could take me. He understands, and assures me that next time I'm in Thailand I should most definitely buy a bunch of Thai prostitutes, but in the meantime I repeat it's really that Floating Market that I want to see. Culture and all.

So he drives me to a brothel anyway. As you do.

But: "Oh I am sorry. They are closed! Next time, next time you can go." Next time, Thai Cabbie Who I Am Starting To Wonder If I Should Fear. Our surprise detour over, he continues driving me to where the river boats are supposed to be. It is now I am informed that he "Knows A Guy" who will be in charge of my river ride. WHAT COULD GO WRONG?

He takes me into what has to be shadiest alley he could find and I'm introduced to a woman who demands money as the taxi takes off behind me. Since this is a "Guy I Know" type-deal I was told I could expect a discount, so I start haggling, but the lady is having none of it. Eventually I just give her all the money from (one of) my pockets and tell her it's all have, and she relents. I am led to my boat captain, a large stereotype-of-a-man whose missing teeth are well contrasted by his big pooch belly. Trust levels aren't at record highs right now, but fuck it. Let's get on that river.

The boat does look like the real deal of a big tourist river boat, except that I was the only person on it:


Perhaps an interesting omen that the important part of my tattoo is cut off in this picture, but these fruits were innocuous enough: some complimentary lychee that the captain kept handing me.

Because I'm a dumb white tourist, I was eating it with the skin on and wondering why it tasted like shit. It was few minutes before I realized you had to peel them:

Wondering why I was such an idiot fruit eating-wise helped lessen the unease of being on the sketchiest river boat in all of Bangkok.

Once we were settled and moving, I asked about the Floating Market. The captain replied that we were not going to the Floating Market. Hey, there goes that unease again.

However, he does confirm that we will dock right next to Wat Phra Kaew, so I guess one out of two sites ain't bad. But where will he take me instead of the Floating Market? Well, apparently through what had to be some of the worst parts of Bangkok. I had never seen river-side ghettos before, which looked to be crumbling into the water like you hear the streets in Venice are. Only, way more filthy and probably crime-ridden. I would have taken pictures, but once we were off the main drag of river my captain asked if I wanted beer and, no joke, parked the boat next to a river-side convenience store and brought back some cans.

He also brought back some cigarettes (the packs of which were covered by pictures of dying cancer patients, natch). They seemed fairly cheap, but that wasn't the point: he opened a small compartment where he was sitting and pulled out a little bit of carefully folded paper. Inside the paper was what looked like very dry, brown clumps of...I don't know. Hash? Opium? It definitely wasn't pot, and he definitely was very clear he didn't want other river boats to see it. Now, he would take the cigarettes he had just bought and show me how to squeeze out their tobacco and replace it with whatever godforsaken narcotic was in that paper. What could go wrong? This, probably.

So that was the next half hour or so of my river boat tour: drinking beer and smoking mystery-drug cigarettes with my terrifying Thai captain, who soon started up his boat's sound system and blared 80s American rock ballads across the water. We would occasionally pass other river boats, loaded to bear with dozens of tourists (and my guide would motion for me to hide the whatever-it-was) who would stare curiously at our boat that made up for its lack of passengers with sheer volume. You might be wondering as to the effects of what I was smoking, and I was wondering the same thing. I was into my third or fourth beer so that might have masked things a tad, but I definitely had a decent head high. Not as pronounced as the shroom shakes had been, but the high may have been dulled by the high adrenaline levels my fight-or-flight instinct was flooding my veins with, just from being on this boat.

Oh hey a temple:

The water was filthy. What to do with all those used lychee skins and cigarette butts, I asked? Just toss 'em overboard, I was told. So I did. All those other tourist boats wish they could've been as traditional as I was then.

While we were traveling down one of the ghetto river-streets an old woman in a much smaller boat came paddling up to ours. She drew up next to where I was sitting and began stacking kitschy Thai knick-knacks on the edge, like little carved elephants and dolls whatnot. The captain smiles at me and proudly proclaims "Floating market!"

No. No no no no no no no. FuuuuuUUUUUUUUuuuck YOUUUUU! I tell her I don't have a lot of money, and she being the cunning businesswoman of these waters asks me how much I do have. I offer what must have been an insultingly low amount for the carved elephant, and she laughs at me, packs up, and paddles off. Our boat continues on.

And then things took a turn.

The captain starts bringing up the notion of me tipping him. Having lived in Korea, I hadn't thought about tipping in some time, and it hadn't occurred to me. It had clearly been on his mind though, because he suggests "You tip me, 1000 baht maybe" and gestures to his drugs that I've been smoking. Ohhhhhhh fuck. This wasn't going to one of those free Asian drug river rides you hear so much about. He was going to get paid. 1000 baht is about 30 bucks, which I was willing to pay on the off chance I would leave this boat with my life and all of my kneecaps. However, time goes by, more beers are drank and more cigarettes are smoked, and he starts raising the price.

"You tip me 2000, 3000 baht maybe?" He talks about his 2 tiny kids and makes sounds and faces that I think are supposed to mimic them breastfeeding, but it could have just as easily have been his personal way of driving me further into terrified confusion and dread. Because hey, it was working.

"You rich American teacher, me so poor, so poor. I raise two kids, too much of this:" He gestures again to the folded-up paper, now nearly empty. Time goes on.

"You tip me 4000, 5000 baht! Tip for good ride, yes?" His kids are brought up again, and more horrible suckling noises are made. Finally I tell him that I simply don't have that much money, and pull out the 15-20 bucks I had on me out of my pockets to show him I didn't have the means for a 200 dollar tip. He assures me this is no problem. He will take me to an ATM.

He stops the boat at a dock where a bunch of pre-teen Thai street children are hanging out, either shirtless or in counterfeit Fubu. I take my backpack with me just in case I need to make a run for it, and the captain follows me all the way to an ATM, where I take out 4000 baht, putting 2000 (about 60 bucks US) into one pocket and the rest in another. Back in the boat, he asks me for the tip and I hand him 2000 out of one pocket. "For your 2 kids. 1 kid 1000 baht, 2 kids 2000 baht" I tell him.

He looks me up and down. I can see he isn't happy, but my cutthroat Western logic seems to work, and he relents. The tension dissipates a bit, and soon we're blasting music again, on a direct course to our final destination. The beers run out, and it's at this point the captain pulls out a straw and invites me to the drink the liquid at the bottom of the cooler that our beers have been sloshing around in. I ask him what it is, and he replies "Cola!"

Alright, let's take a break for a second. Here is where normally I would make a Part 2 for this post, but you guys have been waiting too long for that bullshit, so instead I'll give you a chance for a little breather. I know, it's intense, right? Crazy unknown drugs, perverted cab drivers, Joan Jett songs on the river, and all in the background a plane I've got to catch. How about that boat captain huh? What a character. Go ahead, stand up, walk around a bit, get a drink. You're doing great making it this far.

All settled in? Good. In all my time and in all my travels, I've learned there are 2 types of people in this world: People who would jump overboard and swim screaming and coughing for shore and safety, and People who would take that goddamn straw and drink whatever was in the bottom of that cooler. It's time, Readers. Place your bets. Which person is Jamie.




Part 2: Jamie Drinks The Cooler Water.

Shocker. Yeah, I drank it. And! It really was probably cola of some sort, albeit watered down from all the melted ice and whatever else I-don't-want-to-think-about was in it.

Thirsts whetted, we finally reached our last port: my river odyssey over, the gauntlet run. The captain cannily slipped the boat in between all the big tourist boats (who were confused to see only one, clearly shaken, passenger disembark) and waved goodbye. I turned to ask if I could take his picture, you know, as if there was a chance I would forget his trip, and it was like I had told him I wanted to murder his likely-fictional kids. His toothless smile disappeared, he growled "No", and took off. So long, you horrifying high-powered architect of insanity. I played your sick game and god-DAMMIT I survived.

Now, to stumble beer-drunk, high, and twitching to that motherfucking temple. It was only 2 or 3pm, and I still had the whole afternoon ahead of me. Just waiting.

The temple was huge, and I gladly paid the 5 or so dollars for the admission ticket. Finally, relaxation.

Here is a little area in the temple that was notable at the time mostly because it did not remind me of a certain Gene Wilder-era Willy Wonka boat ride:

Beautiful and not terrifying. This must be what other people mean when they talk about vacations.

Being an English teacher, it's always interesting to see how other schools do it:

A little more Einstein-ian than our curriculum, but I guess-no seriously, Relativity? What the hell.

And a nice Buddha statue:

Not bad, but I'm looking for something more in the 150-foot range.


NOW THAT IS WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT.


LOOK AT THOSE FEET! If I was Quentin Tarantino I would have a million boners right now. Why didn't all those websites mention this temple had a giant fucking Buddha statue?!

Feet which, of course, are covered in dozens of mother-of-pearl engravings:


Engravings all done by this woman:

Maybe. I dunno. It occurred to me that if you had an easel and a white plastic chair just about any vandal could imitate an official art restorer. Today was proving to be all sorts of educational.

Some neat tower/statue/building things:

Seriously, what are these things for? A google search for "those crazy parapet statue tower buildings in that one bangkok temple" returns 124 hits and NONE of them of any use except reminding me I never saw Rambo 2.

After an hour or so of wandering around, I've had enough of this "culture" bag and I take off. Outside the gates, I notice there's another huge walled-off temple just next door. And the name on the gate is "Wat Phra Kaew".

The fuck? So what the hell temple was I just in? Turns out, according to my map, "Wat Pho". Which explains why none of those websites mentioned the giant Buddha: because Wat Phra Kaew is known for its (relatively tiny) Emerald Buddha, and it is instead Wat Pho that is famous for its Reclining Buddha, or "Big Ol' Lazy Buddha Just Kinda Hanging Out" in local Thai parlance. So I finally got with my original itinerary and went into Wat Phra Kaew.

Or would have, if it wasn't closed for the day. And upon seeing me standing in front for more than half a second, one of the Thai police stationed outside accosted me and asked, eyes narrowing, voice accusing, "What...are...you...doing...here???"

I was still high, a little drunk, and before coming to Thailand I had watched Brokedown Palace for the first time. So to say I was a little uneasy would be like saying my drinking is a little bit of a problem. I quickly explained to the cop I wanted to visit the temple, and clearly it was closed, and showed him my map because in my excited state I felt an unrelated visual aid might clarify things.

The cop confirmed that the place was closed and looked me up and down for a moment or a year, hard to say. He then grabbed my map, pulled out a pen, asked me how long I was in town for (a day) and proceeded to make me an impromptu itinerary right fucking then and there. Afterward he called over a tuk-tuk (one of those little 3-wheel car/taxis you see so much in Ong Bak) and gave the driver a rapid-fire barrage of directions in Thai before handing the marked-up map back to me. What could I do? I got in the tuk-tuk and let it take me wherever some Thai cop thought I should go.

Which turned out be this pretty nice temple:

The first stop, at least. This picture was taken by some other foreigners who noticed that I was, well, a super white guy, and asked me to take their picture. They were a nice couple and I went on to awkwardly bump into them half a dozen more times around the temple.

This statue was probably a pretty big deal, as evidenced by the family prostrating themselves before it, but all I can think about it is I think I had a Vietnamese friend with those same lions in his front yard.


There was another big freaking Buddha statue, but unfortunately today was National Giant Buddha Restoration Day:


I also bumped into one other person at the temple: a well-spoken Thai man in a suit who pulled me aside, asking if I spoke English. I figured he wanted me to take his picture, but instead he started telling me about his job, and how much money he was making. What was his job, you say? Well, he's happy you asked! He pulled out a book of receipts and laid out for me how he was buying wholesale diamonds in Bangkok and selling them overseas, and apparently making all the bucks. This was another one of those "There are 2 types of guys in the world" situations, and guess what:

Part 3: Jamie Doesn't Get Involved With International Diamond Cartels

...So I extricated myself from the situation pretty quickly. I went back to my tuk-tuk driver in the parking lot and told him to take me to my next destination.

Which turned out to be a diamond wholesaler. Jesus, guys. Thailand. Come on man. You used to be cool. Remember when you were all beautiful beaches and profanity-laced bucket drinks? What happened to that? Inside the diamond store was a smartly-dressed woman (aided by a small army of other well-dressed women) who immediately ushered me around, displaying all the wares. Legit or not, the whole situation was creeping me out at a time when I thought there couldn't possibly be any creeping left in my body, so I made up a story about my girlfriend waiting for me and I booked it back to the tuk-tuk. I told the driver fuck whatever's next in the cop's route, I want to go somewhere I want to see.


Khao San road. The Backpacker Ghetto, The Place to Disappear. Also: The Place I Read About In An Alex Garland Book And Since I Didn't Get To See Phi Phi Leh Then Goddamit I Was Going To See This. And to be fair, Khao San was in the movie and the book.

It was pretty much what you would expect:

And, like I had been told, really not worth it. Since I had no need for a hostel or a t-shirt with an ironic Thai slogan, there wasn't much left to do. That is, except buy something that had been bugging me for the last few days.

A new 16gb memory card for my camera! Let's make sure it works:

Awkward smile and too-tiny hat I bought on a whim seem to be in place. Looking good.

All that was left now was to find a pharmacy and pick up some stuff for the flight back. Turns out, Khao San is kind of shitty for finding sufficiently-shady looking pharmacies, so for the first time in Thailand I actually had to walk around for a few blocks to find a good spot. But find it I did, and bought some Valium and Viagra.

Viagra?! That thing I mentioned way back at the beginning, 30 hours since I started writing this post? Viagra. Oh, and about a week ago I tried it not once but a few times, although that story will wait for later. Drugs in hand, I grabbed a taxi for the airport and didn't look back. Actually, I didn't do a whole lot of looking period because I was starting to feel pretty ill. Surprising, right? I had been taking such good care of myself! Nevertheless, at the airport I forced myself to eat some overpriced miso soup and rice and tried to sleep a little on a bench, since the damn plane was taking so long. That, and I had to be at work the next day.

Did I not mention that? My plane got into Seoul at 7:50am, and I had to be at work by 3:20pm. I could barely sleep on the plane, and the bus from Seoul to Daegu wasn't much better. My stomach was worsening, sleep-deprivation was killing me, and when I finally got into Daegu at noon I was almost ready to quit my job just so I could sleep for the next week or so. Instead I got about 3 hours and then went to work for 7 hours. As you do.

And there you have it. I started out the day with two things I wanted to do: visit the Floating Market, and see Wat Phra Kaew. By now you know how that ended. If you made it through all these posts, especially this last one, I salute you Sir. I don't know if they'll make you want to visit Thailand, or do anything to avoid going now, but negative or positive I hope there's at least been some effect. As a reward for your trials, I give you this: The last picture I have from Thailand, that for the life of me I can't remember where I shot it:



Enjoy the vandalized toilet seat cover dispenser. I'm going to sleep, and then start agonizing over my next post that will hopefully not take this long to write. Stay safe out there, and try not to do anything I have done. My blog couldn't weather the competition.