I have been looking forward to this day since the minute I left in September of last year. I have thought about the sun and the heat, the smells and textures and tastes, the atmosphere and colours every single day for 10 months. Every mouthful of food since leaving has been compared to the last one in Bangkok. Every drink has been put in the harsh light reflecting off the fresh juices to be found at 5 carts to the block on most pedestrian streets in the backpacker areas of Bangkok. Every glance at a dour and grey Church of England edifice reminds me that somewhere God likes colour, but not here. I wonder if there is an correlation between colour and ambient temperature. Every sunny day (and there are precious few in England) is shamed by a memory, knowing that at its strongest, the sunlight in Britain simply isn't going to infuse you with that sense of sub tropical satisfaction. I step out of the airplane at Suvarnabhumi airport, and I am immediately greeted with a hot breath of air so thick you could chew it. Every thought and sensation comes at full tilt, and I can remember very few times in which I have been happier.
After we returned from our trek last year, I went through a bit of a withdrawal from southeast Asia. I sulked a while, and returned to my studies, thinking of nothing but sitting at a roadside restaurant in Chiang Mai, Thailand, eating pad Thai and drinking pineapple and passion fruit smoothies, listening to the traffic and the mixture of Thai and western voices, discussing everything from English football to what to see and how much to see it by tuktuk. Friendly negotiations and the knowing dance of customer relations experts and expats. Then it was cold and grey and miserable English winter. The memories faded and the hard graft of university set in, coupled with raising a child with Siobhan, and the daily business of getting on. Siobhan notices that there are dead cheap flights to Bangkok, and maybe we should get them and worry about where to go later? It's still December and it's too far away for it to be real. The Malaysian flight disaster is a distant memory and so is the downing of the Malaysian flight over Ukraine. There seems to be a real rash of crashes and near misses, but it's still a long ways away.
Then the Nepal earthquake devastates all of these amazing sights and places between Kathmandu and Pokhara, jogging mental pictures and mini movies of places we had seen and been less than a year ago. Durbar square in Kathmandu is a pile of rubble, and the same goes for Patan and Bahktapur. I spend hours comparing my pictures of what I saw versus news pictures of what's left in abject shock. How the royal Kumari of Kathmandu and her domicile in Durbar Square survived without so much as a scratch as dozens of people were killed by falling debris just metres from her door is a potentially divine mystery. There were shops along the mountain roads to Pokhara who's back ends were supported by stilts rising out of the sheer drop down the mountainside that always seemed pretty perilous in calmer tectonic times, but now ... I wonder if anyone made it out before they just disappeared down the cliff face. The memories of these places that were just right there and I have the photos and film to prove they were there and now they just aren't and what about all the people we met there that ran coffee shops or gave us a deal on souvenirs or just wanted to practice their English or the smiling faces or those who nearly ran us over or.... it becomes too much for a minute.
It sure kickstarts the desire to get back there though, and now we're here! That undercurrent in the air of fish, the lights and sound, its wonderful! From the fire escape of my hotel I see a boy netfishing in the canal and I'm reminded that I'm the one with the unreal life. There is a rawness to life here which you will never really see in the west unless you live a very raw life as well. There are colourful temples and colourful characters everywhere. There's an electricity in the air and it's not coming from that very low slung extension cord. There's loads of solo older guys, and regardless of why they are there, you just know that there will be a young Thai girl in his sights soon enough. That may not be true, but you think that they must be those creepy types. You're probably right. I know there are huge swathes of this city I know nothing about. I have no business in the seedier areas, and I'm just too old to satisfy lingering curiosity. I don't actually care. Its on record in books and film if I simply must know. The same goes for the very affluent areas and the bars and clubs hold no allure. I'm just happy to be in the warm air, smelling and seeing and being in Bangkok. Japan is next on the itinerary, and I'm excited but I fear for the bank account.
After we returned from our trek last year, I went through a bit of a withdrawal from southeast Asia. I sulked a while, and returned to my studies, thinking of nothing but sitting at a roadside restaurant in Chiang Mai, Thailand, eating pad Thai and drinking pineapple and passion fruit smoothies, listening to the traffic and the mixture of Thai and western voices, discussing everything from English football to what to see and how much to see it by tuktuk. Friendly negotiations and the knowing dance of customer relations experts and expats. Then it was cold and grey and miserable English winter. The memories faded and the hard graft of university set in, coupled with raising a child with Siobhan, and the daily business of getting on. Siobhan notices that there are dead cheap flights to Bangkok, and maybe we should get them and worry about where to go later? It's still December and it's too far away for it to be real. The Malaysian flight disaster is a distant memory and so is the downing of the Malaysian flight over Ukraine. There seems to be a real rash of crashes and near misses, but it's still a long ways away.
Then the Nepal earthquake devastates all of these amazing sights and places between Kathmandu and Pokhara, jogging mental pictures and mini movies of places we had seen and been less than a year ago. Durbar square in Kathmandu is a pile of rubble, and the same goes for Patan and Bahktapur. I spend hours comparing my pictures of what I saw versus news pictures of what's left in abject shock. How the royal Kumari of Kathmandu and her domicile in Durbar Square survived without so much as a scratch as dozens of people were killed by falling debris just metres from her door is a potentially divine mystery. There were shops along the mountain roads to Pokhara who's back ends were supported by stilts rising out of the sheer drop down the mountainside that always seemed pretty perilous in calmer tectonic times, but now ... I wonder if anyone made it out before they just disappeared down the cliff face. The memories of these places that were just right there and I have the photos and film to prove they were there and now they just aren't and what about all the people we met there that ran coffee shops or gave us a deal on souvenirs or just wanted to practice their English or the smiling faces or those who nearly ran us over or.... it becomes too much for a minute.
It sure kickstarts the desire to get back there though, and now we're here! That undercurrent in the air of fish, the lights and sound, its wonderful! From the fire escape of my hotel I see a boy netfishing in the canal and I'm reminded that I'm the one with the unreal life. There is a rawness to life here which you will never really see in the west unless you live a very raw life as well. There are colourful temples and colourful characters everywhere. There's an electricity in the air and it's not coming from that very low slung extension cord. There's loads of solo older guys, and regardless of why they are there, you just know that there will be a young Thai girl in his sights soon enough. That may not be true, but you think that they must be those creepy types. You're probably right. I know there are huge swathes of this city I know nothing about. I have no business in the seedier areas, and I'm just too old to satisfy lingering curiosity. I don't actually care. Its on record in books and film if I simply must know. The same goes for the very affluent areas and the bars and clubs hold no allure. I'm just happy to be in the warm air, smelling and seeing and being in Bangkok. Japan is next on the itinerary, and I'm excited but I fear for the bank account.
