A Tale of Two Thai Lands: Part I Bangkok

Travelling to Asia always feels like going home. My earliest memories are of overwhelmingly aromatic market places, kaleidoscopic streets with dirty waterways, stagnant air moved only by the breath of clamouring hagglers or an errant tuk-tuk rushing past juggling its half-terrified Western passengers. And the heat, oh the heat. The heat that hits you as soon as you step outside, an unforgiving furnace of tropical temperature that only exists in these far-flung cities, that you must surrender yourself to should you not only wish to sight-see, but to even survive. How I had missed the heat that welcomed me, when I stepped off my long-haul flight, smiling, into the artificial bright light reflected in the Suvarnabhumi Airport sign. I was soon blasted by the air conditioning when further inside the airport, but how that heat had greeted me.

Bangkok did not disappoint my primal memories of a sensory overload. Guided by my self-professed ‘guru’ for the day, we toured the backwaters of the chaotic capital by traditional longtail boat, whose driver seemed to take particular relish in splashing passers-by, rainbow flags proudly streaming behind him and his crooked grin. Expertly navigating through the Klong Dao Kanong and Klong Bang Khun Tien districts, cruising past brightly-painted traditional wooden canal homes with turquoise walls and curious little doors opening directly on to the water, the royal residences and temple of Klong Wat Sai came into sight from behind swaying fruit trees, almost blending into its verdant surroundings with its golden-leaf covered façade. Only viewing the temple, built in the Ayutthaya period, from the water as if some sort of mythical mirage, we continued to Klong Dan to visit one of the city’s most beautiful temples, Wat Ratcha Orot, famed for its Thai-Chinese architecture.

Stepping off the boat this time, refusing the many hands that offered me help in my impractically long white sundress, I found myself standing in the shadow of the most spectacular angular temple roof. My guide had taken me off the tourist track of temples, so I was not met by crowds but by monks, dressed in their saffron robes that felt strangely familiar to me. Sandals littered the entrance, surrounding a half-open embellished door inviting us to enter. Barefoot, I followed the sound of wind chimes inside the deserted courtyard, with the odd flash of saffron catching the corner of my eye. Suddenly the unusually silent serenity made sense – my guide explained that we had arrived on the day of the annual exams for the monks, who were all waiting inside the main temple for their test to begin. Should they fail, they would have to wait another 364 days to re-sit on the same day next year. “Teaches patience,” my guide said; I could not help but agree, with a sense of admiration for the nervous monks and a new-found appreciation for my own examination system.

The ground soon became hot underfoot, so I left the spiraling white stupa and studious monks to it. Beads of sweat had formed all over my body by the time we reached the next temple, Wat Pho, home to the 46 metre-long reclining golden Buddha. I felt increasingly conscious of the sweat that rolled down the bridge of my nose onto the fuchsia carpet as I bowed my head in respect before his unflinching yet understanding gaze, taking some comfort from the cooling stone soothing the soles of my blistered feet as I turned away. Back on board, the canopied boat provided some respite from the sun, but not from the heat, growing stronger now as afternoon approached. I was grateful for the distraction of a weathered hand clinging to the side of the boat, bringing her much smaller vessel laden with sweets, souvenirs, and straw hats alongside us, like a pilot fish swimming alongside its shark. Missing most of her teeth, she gave me her best smile, ringing miniature bells and rattling her trinkets, making her way calmly down our boat offering her goods for sale, eventually releasing us from her grasp and moving on to the next boat.

Her floating market was practically boutique in comparison to the next as the waters opened up onto a stretch of stalls, bobbing happily with wooden planks bound by rope and coloured ribbon. Purchasing an ounce of Thai gold, otherwise known as the sweet yellow Jackfruit, ceremoniously presented to me in a plastic bag, I wandered through the floating streets taking in the vibrant patterns, wicker bags, and glittering jewellery laid out on tie-dyed cloth on display. The planks soon blended into the river bank, as I made my way through the one-hundred-year-old Klong Bang Luang district, once lined with aristocratic residences. After demolishing a home-made Pad Thai and refreshing pineapple and coconut juice, served in a cup of its milky shell, I boarded my boat for the last time and rejoined the Chao Phraya River once again, passing by the iconic Grand Palace and Temple of Dawn.

Happiest when on, in, or nearby water, seeing Bangkok by boat was by far the most preferable way to experience the city that welcomes more visitors than any other in the world, and only increased my excitement for my next destination – Koh Samui.