The place we chose for that well-earned beer is like so many
others in South-East Asia — an opportunity, grasped with both hands, and made
to work hard. The opportunist is the owner of a small travel agency, restaurant,
and footpath bar. His opportunity was to convert unused first floor space into
‘hotel rooms’ (this term is interchangeable with ‘rat infested fire trap’) for
weary travellers. The space is divided into as many small rooms as possible to
maximise his return on investment. The effect is akin to the inside of a hair
dryer with a broken fan - dark, hot, & potentially dangerous.
My travelling companion — much more used to the privations
of cheap travel than I — allowed me the one small comfort available from the
two rooms we are proffered: a window. I thanked him then, but was later to
regret the decision. I showered in one of the two available bathrooms. These
modern facilities have all a weary traveller could wish for: a door, barely
strong enough to keep out a rampaging mosquito, a toilet with a broken seat and
no cistern, a large bucket (this of course you fill with water to ‘flush’ the
toilet), and a shower. And when I say ‘shower’ what I really mean is a tap on
the wall at knee height, with half a meter of grungy plastic hose attached. All
of this is contained in a space barely bigger than a normal toilet cubicle,
come to think of it; this is a toilet cubicle – with a bucket and a tap!
Showered, I made my way back to my box with a window (room)
for a short rest. Besides the window that contributes no more to the room than
a little grime tinged light, the only other comfort is a fan. Unfortunately,
this is not the normal three bladed ceiling fan, but a desk fan, bolted to the
ceiling. The switch on the wall allows speed changes, but no control over the
oscillation. So as I laid on my bed feeling the sweat from my back slowly soak
into the tissue-thin yellowed sheets, I time the fan’s rotation: twenty seconds,
seven on me. The thirteen wasted seconds it is not blowing on me is enough time
to become completely drenched. It is so hot my shins sweat. I’m not sure I can put
up with this for three days.
‘Rested’, we hit the streets to see what Bangkok has in
store. Remembering that we are on holiday, a late morning beer is in order. We
plonked ourselves down at the footpath bar and ordered a couple of Singhas.
Chatting to the owner and his less than coy friend, we find out that he has as
many business pies across Asia as he has fingers to put in them.
My travelling companion lives in India for nine months of
every year, and is therefore very accustomed to the delights of that foreign
cuisine. Having visited Bangkok once previously, he is aware of, and more than
a little keen to sample as many Thai culinary delights as possible in our short
time in the Big Mango. His aim is six small meals a day, and with two in the
bank by 11 am, he is well on his way to fulfilling that goal.
To be continued...
