First Day

Bangkok, 6/10/11

I'm up at 7AM after a lovely sleep on my rock hard mattress and pillow. Luckily the fan was strong. Clear blue skies and 100 degree weather mean a tour of the Grand Palace is in order.

Walk from my hostel, pay the 300B farang entrance fee and go in. Despite the early hour, the grounds are mobbed with Asian tourists and I'm practically the only Westerner. We have to wait five minutes to enter following a procession of two dozen military officials, marching in perfect harmony, guns in hand.

The pinnacles of each building can be seen from my hostel, each elaborately decorated in shimmering gold, with bright blue, red, and green accents. Phra Siratana Chedi stands tall, encased in pure gold almost like the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem. Ornate carvings of dragons, warriors, and kings stand beside the temples and also add personality to each of the walls. The hallways between each are elaborate art galleys, with centuries old painting barely faded. Buddha images are everywhere -- in frescoes, statues, even in topiaries. The most majestic of which is in the Temple of the Emerald Buddha, a giant room the size of a movie theater, where a small jade Buddha sits atop of a 30 ft shrine of dazzling gold and silver. Shoes and cameras are off and most of the tourists around me sit on their knees, feet back as not to offend Buddha, and bow their heads in prayer.

On the other side of the campus, Chakri Maha Prasat Hall lies sprawled out across a beautiful green garden, guarded by numerous Buckingham Palace-esque motionless guards and elephant statues. The palace is surrounded by giant spherical bonsai trees, which bring to mind lollipops or something out of Dr. Seuss.

If I wasn't awake during the Grand Palace tour, I certainly am during lunch of a blisteringly spicy green papaya salad at Som Tom Paradise in Siam Square. A combination of firey chilis, toasted peanuts, tomatoes, palm sugar, string beans, dried shrimp, lime juice, and fish sauce - it definitely makes ones senses stand at full attention. The dish is found on almost every street throughout Thailand and always made in a giant wooden mortar and pestle, which serves no other purpose. As the chefs grind the chilis together at the bottom of the device, it creates a clicking sound the Thais pronounce as "pok pok." In addition to being the name of my favorite Thai restaurant in the states, this sound is such a part of the lifeblood of green papaya salad, that Thais often ask for "Papaya Pok Pok". I enjoy the Som Tom with garlicky lemongrass chicken wings, sticky rice, and a crowd of dozen of university students who seem unphased by the spice level of the dishes while I continue to perspire, now indoors.

Noisy, exhaust-spewing, rainbow colored traffic flashes by me as a I walk from Siam Square to Sukhumvit. Along the way, I pick up my first Thai coffee on the street for 15B ($0.50), which tastes slightly like a coffee version of a McDonalds milkshake, but with more caffeine. Every vendor has a different process, but typically its freshly brewed black coffee instantly cooled down with some version of Thai black magic, poured over iced, and then doused in a healthy amount of sweetened condensed milk. Actually said condensed milk really appears to be the Thai condiment of choice and it is found everywhere -- from coffee, to fruit shakes, to savory fish dishes, to dessert. I try to order to coffee like a proper Thai, after checking my guidebook for pronunciation. I know I've been successful when everyone laughs with me, starts speaking English, and looks at me like I have three heads.

Jim Thompson House is a series of airy mahogany brown teak buildings surrounded by a lavish garden and ponds home to supersized goldfish. It overlooks a muddy brown canal, right in the center of Bangkok. The home, which belonged to an American ex-pat who revolutionized the Thai silk industry, has been turned into a museum and is still maintained as it was decades ago -- dining table set and beckoning for guests. As we tour the rooms, our enthusiastic guide, who rushes through broken English, is thrilled to share 13th century porcelain dinnerware and sculptures, silk tapestries, architectural feats, elaborate cages where Mr. Thompson kept his met rats, and silly anecdote. For example, despite the house's lavish appearance, all of the bathrooms were outside the home, making it quite inconvenient in general, and especially if one gets up in the middle of the night after one too many fruit shakes. Fortunately, Jimbo had the brilliant idea of installing decorative porcelain "pee pee pots" in each of the bedrooms to avoid late night al fresco bathroom runs. Shaped to blend in with the fine china throughout each room, the pots are handpainted and modeled to look cats or frogs, with large, easily removable tops . If one found its way to my house around Thanksgiving time, its general shape could be perceived to be a gravy boat. This, of course, would be a dire mistake.

I don't really believe in astrology, horoscopes, tarot or fortune telling. I'm convinced their lessons are a series of vague universal truths that apply to anyone. It always amuses me when the horoscope reads, "you have hit a rough patch recently and things have not been going exactly right", and people look like the heavens have parted and they have a received a clear message from God. However, I will say I was slightly scared when our guide says, "Mr. Thompson [pronounced "mistah" with a thick Thai accent] was born in the year of the horse, which traditionally means bad things when you turn 61. At that age, Mr. Thompson got lost, kidnapped, eaten by a tiger, who knows. It's still a mystery. Just remember if you all are born in the year of the horse, bad things happen when you turn 61. Maybe you die, maybe worse. Watch out."

I'm not sure what's worse. And either way, I'm not checking.