After dumping our backpacks in our room, we left the hostel to find some dinner. Our hostel was positioned near an alley-like street, which we walked down to reach a more central part of the city, near the Bangkok train station. Walking down the street, we kept close to the edges to let motorbikes pass. Families had brought folding tables out into the street, where they ate dinner. Potted plants lined the buildings and laundry hung from windows. Reaching a larger street, women sat on mats on the sidewalk, with wicker baskets filled with vegetables, rice, and eggs. We weren’t sure if they were there to prepare food and sell it, or if they were just having night picnics to celebrate the Chinese New Year. Our dinner options were limited to street food—which, throughout the trip, was predominantly meat and rice, usually prepared with chilies, with few vegetables such as bean sprouts or greens, and which I usually tried to avoid—and Hong Kong Noodle, a chain restaurant that we opted for. In the beginning of our trip, we were a little paranoid about food-borne illnesses, so we stuck to restaurants, which seemed safer. It wasn’t long before we became a bit more adventurous, however. At Hong Kong Noodle, we ate noodles with a mildly spicy peanut sauce, and I drank some disgustingly sweet lemongrass juice. We panicked for a little while about the ice in our drinks, but soon gave up our worries, went back to the hostel for much needed showers and much more needed sleep.
We woke up early the following morning, had a cup of tea in the hostel, and then set out. We crossed through the crowded intersection near the train station, where we had walked the night before. It was filled with brightly colored taxis, motorbikes, and tuk-tuks, the infamous 3-wheeled vehicles that transport you from point A to point B. I saw one tuk-tuk nearly tip over as it took a turn too fast, and said to Malone, “I’m definitely not getting in one of those.” Ha! They soon became our most common form of transportation, after buses, at least. A woman offered to help us find our way. We showed her our map out of politeness, because we knew where we were going; I think some people just see foreigners and jump on the chance to practice a little English. We soon walked on quieter streets, looking for breakfast. I had a hard time finding anything—most of it was chicken—but when we reached the pier, where we were to take a river boat to the Grand Palace, we stopped so Malone could eat something. I ended up getting a small plastic bag of sticky rice for 5 baht, which is about 15 cents. I borrowed one of Malone’s utensils to eat it; most people eat sticky rice with their fingers.
At the pier, we waited on the shaky dock for a little while before jumping on the Express River Boat. Taking these boats is an easy way to get around the city, avoiding the traffic of the streets. We passed Wat Arun, “Temple of the Dawn” on our left, a tall, intricate temple, then got off the boat a few stops up-river.
We found ourselves on a busy street corner, with the white walls enclosing the Grand Palace across the street. Before we could make our way there, however, a well-dressed man stopped us and asked to see our map. Now, the Lonely Planet guidebook warns travelers against well-dressed men asking to see your map. They take the map, circle points of interest, call a tuk-tuk driver to their side, shuffle you in, and then take a cut of pay after the driver brings you to gem outlets and other businesses that want nothing more than to scam you to get ahold of some of your Western money. It also told us to ignore anybody who told us the Grand Palace was closed. They sometimes use this excuse to get you to go to other sites in the city. But when this man told us that the Grand Palace wasn’t going to open til noon, because of the Chinese New Year, we sort of believed him. Maybe he was telling the truth. We couldn’t find out, because we didn’t end up going to the Grand Palace until after noon anyway. Because, as two smart young women, we gave the man our map, enjoyed a friendly conversation as he circled points of interest on our map, and then trusted him when he told us to take the navy blue tuk-tuks, instead of the colored ones, because they are the public tuk-tuks, cheaper than the private ones. Then we got in the tuk-tuk he waved down for us.
Well, it was only 40 baht for the whole day. That’s about $1.30. And we didn’t really get scammed…we just had to awkwardly walk through a gem store and pretend we were interested before leaving without buying anything, despite the simultaneously angry and disappointed stares of the workers there. But our driver did bring us to some interesting temples. The first temple we went to was small, but its roof was beautiful, with mosaics made out of shiny pieces of glass and gilded edges. Inside this temple was the famous Black Buddha, which was brought to Bangkok more than 200 years ago, when it became the capital of Thailand. About 500 years old, the Black Buddha was once black. Now, it’s completely gold. Also known as the Lucky Buddha, people pray to it to cure ailments of themselves or their loved ones. If someone has a stomach problem, the person will pray to this Buddha, placing a thin, gold leaf on the Buddha’s stomach, pressing it there. At many of the temples we visited throughout our trip, it was possible to obtain a golden leaf, usually with sticks of incense, to make an offering and pray for a cure. But the Black Buddha is best known for this practice.
After this stop, we drove through the hot, dusty city streets, passing street vendors on the sidewalks and motorbikes on the streets, gas and diesel fumes everywhere, to the Sapphire and Ruby Emporium. We were expecting something like this; if our tuk-tuk was only 40 baht, there had to be some catch. We tried to tell our driver we didn’t want to go, but, as is often the case, he would receive a gas coupon for bringing tourists, so we went inside for a few minutes. Returning unscathed and with our wallets intact, we explained to him that we only wanted to go to temples. He tried several times to take us to a travel deal/coupon business, but we declined.
Our next stop was Wat Saket, a temple with winding staircases and a giant gold stupa. We began walking up one of the staircases, surrounded by flowers and other plants, before we realized that it was the “down” staircase, so we turned around. At the bottom of the staircase, a beggar squatted, wearing a sarong and with rags wrapped around his ankles and dirty feet. A bowl sat in front of him to collect change. It seemed like an innocent, sad scene, until I noticed that his slightly enlarged penis was completely exposed. Maybe I shouldn’t even use the word “slightly.” I don’t know. I shifted my eyes away from him as quickly as I could. Malone hadn’t noticed, and I hurried to catch up with her before we ascended steps on the other side of the temple. Bells lined the walkway to the top of the temple, and as people walked by, they rang each bell in a row. Other walkways were lined with metal bowls, in which people dropped coin after coin, enjoying the clinking and clattering as they made their offerings. At the top of the temple, pillars of lucky bells stood at the four corners surrounding the stupa, connected by strings where people clipped paper money. Messages were written on the bells, and other Buddhist statues were placed around the stupa. Inside the temple were rich dark green and gold Buddhas. The temple was extremely crowded; probably because it was Chinese New Year. Many people were there to make offerings and prayers for the new year.
When we left Wat Saket (we descended the correct staircase and found that the beggar had covered himself up), we found our tuk-tuk driver, who drove us back to the corner near the entrance of the Grand Palace. We paid our driver and stopped for lunch—I had green curry, which was a little too spicy, and a lime soda—before entering the Grand Palace.
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