The lights on Khao San Road make the trees look artificially deciduous. The streets are full of fish. Feral cats and dogs wander, searching for scraps left by the food vendors and lazy tourists.
I’m actually growing a taste for beer–or, at least, my physical aversion to it is waning and I now find some beer drinkable. Now it is Leo beer. All I know of it is that it’s light and the label is totally in Thai. While we drink, we watch American Dreamz on the restaurant television. It may or may not be pirated, but the odds are in favor of the former. Watching the people around us tends to be more interesting than the movie, which is a little on the silly side. Perfect choice though for the American tourist. An American movie that makes fun of the American way. It sort of feels like Khao San Road itself. Even the restaurant owners speak perfect English. It seems that English is the middle man language of tourists here. I heard a chinese woman saying something in English to the Thai pharmacists the other day. Germans, Greek, Russians, Ukrainian, Dutch, Norwegian, and French. They are all speaking English to the Thai natives. Aside from on Koh Samui, where many signs are in Thai, English and German, it seems English is everywhere and the only middle ground. It’s a convenient system for those who speak English natively, but I feel a little bad for all those who don’t. We’ve met several people from different countries and they always apologies for their English. I always reply with the same, “It’s better than my Czech”, or Dutch, or Norwegian or whatever it is the other person speaks.

It’s not even midnight but Lena has been asleep almost an hour. As the last two nights have shown, my affinity for the night has a faster acting recovery method than hers does. Of course, tonight, I too would be nearly napping without a bottle of Thai Red Bull spiking my mind with rapid thunder.
Our new nightly squat is closer to the busy action of tourist Bangkok, in the Banglampoo district–not on Khao San road but close. Cars screetch past frequently, bleepity-bleeping and randomly skidding to a halt as they avoid collision with pedestrians and feral animals roaming the night. Every attempt to cross a street in Bangkok is also an attempt on your life. Cars don’t have to avoid pedestrians but it might ruin their day, which is the only reason they avoid you.
The lobby of Happy House is packed from dawn to dusk with tired farang (what the Thais call western foriegners), all sipping beer or fruit smoothies while fix-eyed to one or more of the many television screens, which show the pirated movie of the moment.
Now, I too have moved downstairs but all the farang have left. The televisions are now playing Thai news and the street seems void of tourists. The Inn staff is all sitting around a table chatting away. One comes over to ask if I want anything and I order a bottle of Thai Lipton Ice Tea. The label is all in Thai and the bottle has been recycled many times. I pay the 15 Baht right now. It’s too easy to get street vendors to take your money but when it comes to paying for food, restaurant staff vanishes when it comes time to take your cash. The culture here is strangely trusting for one that is full of so many tourist scams. The fruit stalls and jewelry booths are frequently unattended. At night, you can walk down a busy street and, if you needed to, snatch up almost anything you can imagine without being noticed. I guess tourists thieving is just not common here.
I feel like I should be smoking, sitting here on the edge of the street, writing in my moleskin about the Bangkok night. The ciggarette smoke, foul as it is, would hide the pestulent stench of the Chao Praya river. The humid monsoon season weather makes the polution in the air stick to your face, stabbing at your eyes.
At the end of the street, I notice tourists popping in and out of a travel center, hoping perhaps to find paradise in a weekend tour. A cart wheels past with a large sign in English, “Mango Sticky Rice”. I’m momentarily tempted to stop the cart pusher and for 20 Baht (US$0.59) get my own 15 minutes of paradise.
I’m trying to absorb as much of the city as I can before we overnight bus our way to the tropical islands of the south–and certainly, with this humidity, I will be ocean-bathing Bangkok from my pores for weeks.
Turning to news, I’m curiously amused. In a country with a population of 62 million, with 80% being farmers, the television news is as sensational and crime-story driven as it is in the US. Now a bull has run loose and chases after a dozen people before being shot with a tranquilizer arrow and lassoed to safety. Now a girl has been attacked and raped in her own apartment and robed at knife point after that. A dramatic reinactment tells all as the victim gives her tale, the camera only showing the bottom half of her face for anonymity. Now Several People are having siezures in the street while 3-4 other people to each victim attempts to restrain and comfort the fallen. Now it looks like epilepsy but there are 3 victims, a man a woman and a child. Now it looks like heat stroke in the hot afternoon as one volunteer fans the shaking man. Now the victims are chanting and the fallen man stands up to dance and clap. Now it looks like a religious revival. Now another woman is being carried by four people while she kicks and screams in short, loud bursts.
Now a commercial, an anti-graffiti advertisement. The cafe across the way is blasting French lounge music with a female vocalist who often chooses to sing in English. Each passing motorbike sprays the air with soot.
The news distracts with its transition animation of a red orb that looks too much like the eye of the HAL 9000 super computer, all flashed up with mesmerizing flickers of rotating red around a glossy center, a rapid whoosh sound accompanying a sudden glow.
The tea and red bull are wearing off. If the air were more breathable, it wouldn’t be difficult to stay up all night, but my eyes are burning.
Time to retire, retreat, reboot.

It’s still mind boggling to know that it’s yesterday in Seattle.
We went to the Grand Palace today, which was grand, yet extremely touristy. However, we walked there and on the way we found a series of streets with absolutely no white people or other foreigners. And even though there seemed to be only Thai nationals around us, the sidewalks were still filled with hawkers. This time selling rare coins, dentures, food, jewelry and precious statues–rather than t-shirts, tattoos, piercings, food, custom tailored suits and such.
Tucked away, deep within a side alley, we discovered a little thai restaurant and had the best green papaya salads we’ve ever tasted. The spice levels were as the thai enjoy and I nearly died but the lime juice in the sauce balanced the flavor enough for me to regain my composure, realizing that I suddenly felt much cooler (in temperature and style).

We checked out of the Bhiman Inn where we arranged our first 3 nights. It was terribly overpriced at 1400 THB* per night (about US$41). They had several luxuries including a swimming pool, a minibar and more, of which we never took advantage. Just a few blocks away, across from a fabulous thai massage spa (180 baht for 1 hour–roughly US$5.29), we checked into Happy House for 490 THB per night (US$14.41).
*For full sense of conversion, read my post on the value of the Thai baht (http://sleep.shadowpuppet.net/?p=93)

I’d have to say the Thai massages are my favorite part so far (aside from the amazing food, which was our initial impetuous for choosing Thailand). We had one yesterday and one the day before. We will be getting another later today. My goal is to have a 1 hour massage every day we are here. The first one I had, they popped every bone in my spine and several in my neck and arms (not to mention my fingers and toes). I embarrassed Lena because I grunted and moaned through the second one. The Thais are very polite but also very conservative in dress and manners. Nobody else made a sound. I figured it was alright though because the person who was doing my massage kept smiling and laughing. They found tense muscles I didn’t even know I had. And certainly, if you get a thai massage, you don’t have any use for a chiropractor.

I did manage to find a couple of hand drums and I will be getting at least 2, one for me and 1 for david if he wants it. The initial price I got out of them was 950THB (about US$30). I got them down to 850 and pleading for me to give them a lower price when I said 600 and walked away. It was apparently too low because they let me go. I’ll see how much they are at the weekend market :)

So, I had an epiphany while walking through the streets of Bangkok last night. I found a grocery store and noticed a pattern in the prices relating to the value of the item here and in the US.
It appears that the Thai baht to the Thai is as the dime is to the US citizen. To illustrate, a bottle of water is 10 Baht. Any form of portable beverage is about 10-15 baht or $1-$1.50 in relative value. This realization has carried forward on everything I’ve purchased and considered purchasing. However, I also realized with this that the marvelous exchange rate of 34 Thai Baht to US$1 is not as great as it seems. You aren’t actually increasing the value of your dollar by 34/1, it’s actually 3.4/1 (still very nice but not nearly as marvelous).

This realization is also helpful when bartering items. If the asking price is 200 Baht, then you can think of it as $20 to the Thai. So if you would pay US$20 for the item normally, then the price makes sense. However, it the item is something you imagine paying US$10 to get in the states, then you shouldn’t buy it for anything more than 100 Baht.

Sadly, looking back, I’ve found that I’ve overpaid on a few items. It’s so easy to spend baht because of the exchange rate. It’s very important to realize that the value of a baht is not the same to the Thai people as the value of a dollar in the US.

I did much better today though. All I’ve spent is 25 baht (or the equivalent value of $2.50–with an exchange rate of less than US$1) for coconut jelly (a whole young coconut shaved out and filled with something like a chilled coconut jello with huge chunks of coconut (very tasty), and a green papaya salad appetizer with Phad Thai for lunch (at the University) for 60 baht (or $6 equivalent value–converted to less than US$2).

So to sum, if you are used to thinking of the value of things in terms of US dollars and you find yourself with a lot of Thai currency, just think of a 10 baht coin as a dollar, a 100 baht bill as a ten dollar bill and so on. You will find that the prices for everything are the same as in the US, only you multiplied the amount of money in your pocket.

We got in at 23:00, Monday July 18th. After realizing that the airport was more confusing than we thought it would be, we finally found a metered taxi. We were so tired, we just took the 400 Baht offer to the hotel. The cabbie was nice and it worked out. I was expecting to pay between 300-400 Baht for the cab anyway. I figure there are really two options, you can insist that they use the meter and possibly get scammed as they drive around to increase the fee, or you can bargain a flat rate, in which the cabbie tries to get you to your destination as quickly and efficiently as possible. Granted, you might end up with a good cabbie that uses the meter and takes the good roads, but it’s hard not to look like an asshole when you’ve been flying for 20 hours through 16 time zones.

So, this morning, we slept from about 2:45am-5:30am Bangkok time (that’s 12:45pm-3:30pm yesterday, Seattle time). The air is so humid, when I put the bug spray and sunblock on I didn’t feel any different. My skin was alreay supersaturated. The hotel breakfast was good. We had the western style since the Thai option was chicken and rice and it just didn’t sound too good right then.

Bank troubles
At the airport, we wanted to take out some cash from First Horizon. Of course, our cards didn’t work for some reason, the bank says it was due to an invalid pin entry but neither mine nor lena’s card worked. So, after using this internet cafe, which is a measly 30 Baht for 80 minutes (less than $1 US), we’ve got to find a bank and get a “cash advance”. Yay!

Going to Thailand for 28 days and here’s what I am bringing:

click to view gallery

Daypack containing:

• Compact/Lightweight REI travel raincoat
• Documents (Itinerary, copies of passport and credit card, flight info, hotel booking receipts, printed map details, etc…)
• Fodor’s Citypack Bangkok (with an excellent Bangkok map)
• Thai the Rough Guide Dictionary Phrasebook
• Power converter and iPod charger (for layover in Korea)
• Bandana (you never know)
• Inflatable neck pillow
• Snacks
• Toothbrush and toothpaste (to use at Incheon Intl. Airport)
• Travel chess set and cards (for 3 and 12 hour layovers in Korea)
• 5 Jester footbags (the best juggling balls–also for layover)
• Earplugs
• Sugerless gum
• Moleskin journal w/pen and pencil

click to view gallery

Luggage bag containing:

• 2 pairs of convertible, lightweight pants
• 3 pairs of light cotton boxers
• 1 long-sleeved silk shirt (for fancy clubs)
• T-Shirt
• 1 lightweight long-sleeved REI SPF 50 button shirt
• XXL super light, compact, super quick drying, super absorbent REI towel
• Empty water bottle
• 3 variously sized bungee cords (for clothes drying, etc…)
• Extra batteries for camera
• Extra pair of iPod headphones
• Condoms
• Floss
• Lots of aloe vera gel
• Face sunblock
• Hand sanitizer
• Razors
• Sunglasses
• Tissue
• Deodorant
• Misc med kit
• Aloe vera lip balm
• Malarone (60% effective at preventing malarial infection)
• Ciprofloxacin (to treat diarrhea)
• Emergen-C vitamin packs to add to bottled water
• Double Salt Licorice
• Energy shots
• Bug repellent

Myself wearing:

• Super fast drying, nylon, SPF 50, insect repellent, convertible (to shorts) pants
• Pirate T-Shirt
• Sandals
• Money Belt containing:
  • Passport
  • Credit Card
  • Cash
• 60GB video iPod containing:
  • Music
  • Movies
  • Language Courses
  • USB Apps (thunderbird, Skype, ssh client, etc…)

Buy in Thailand:

• Hat
• Watch
• Hand Drum
• Sarong

This is not a made up picture. I was chowing down when I saw the devil in my sandwich:

I would consider selling it for upwards of US$10K, if only I hadn’t gone ahead and eaten the rest of it. It was just too good. Maybe that was the devil in it, preventing me from attaining my riches by satisfying a transient earthly desire. Next time I’ll have to listen to the wise followers of the Grilled Cheese and Potato Wedges and make bank.

So, I come home from work and parked outside my house, I see this truck with chickens in the back:

I figure it belongs to the neighbor next door and I shrug it off. But I snap a picture since it’s kinda odd in the middle of a Seattle Summer.

The next day, I’m working at my computer–It’s my day off, so I’m just lazing about half way dressed–and suddenly there’s a knock on the door.
This is strange because people don’t just drop by uninvited to my house.
I’m shocked, so I just go and answer the door without bothering to put a shirt on or fix my hair.

On my porch is this lady all dressed up like a park ranger, hat and all, with a badge that says she’s from animal control.
“I’m here about your chickens.” She says.
I temporarily forget that I saw the chickens the day before and I’m so confused I just say, “What…chickens?” in my most innocent sounding voice. I suddenly realize that I’m standing there looking like a typical white trash chicken housing lunatic, with my plaid boxers sticking out of my pants and no shirt on to cover my pasty white boy chest. My hair looks like the lead singer of Flock of Seagulls in the height of a cocaine binge. And I’m trying to play off like I don’t know anything about chickens. I start to fumble with the door knob and look back into my house and I get the strange sense that she thinks I’m hiding something.
“Oh, wait, those chickens,” I remember. “Those aren’t mine. I think they belong to my neighbor next door. I saw them in their truck yesterday.”
“Your neighbor said they were your chickens.” she retorts.
“Ah,” I’m sure I look totally mystified as I am really not quite certain what to say next. “um…I don’t own a truck.” My hand instinctively goes to my head for a scratch–I’m hoping to get across the international sign for, “I’m confused” so she will take her accusatory look away.
“Well, we had someone phone in a complaint and we were concerned because it sounded like they were being kept in a small container and were left in the afternoon sun.”
“Right, that’s how it looked to me…”
A bit of a silence.
“Well, let us know if you see them again.” She hands me her card and I thank her.
“Sure, yeah…will do.”
I don’t think she ever realized that I was innocent.

All of my dreams last night were in Thai and PHP. I don’t speak much Thai so I exhausted it all on a woman in a restaurant. She told me all I know and some things I didn’t. While this was happening, I was coding and re-coding the experience. They say you can’t read in your dreams but I think that’s not true. I’ve read before and I distinctly remember lines of code, characters and pages, all overlain upon reality.