I think his quest is a noble one, and a great way to sample as
much variety as possible. As we delve into the tropical armpit of Asia, we are
always on the lookout for the next taste sensation. Besides, the normal three modest
meals a day in this climate is not ideal, and I find it best to follow local
tradition when it comes to these matters. Therefore, we duly snack, nibble,
munch, graze, and browse our way around town for the next three days.
On our way to a rendezvous with an old friend of his, we walk in
the shade of the skyscrapers through the late afternoon hustle of downtown peak
hour. As we leave behind the Chinese style wooden buildings — warehouses, shops
& dwellings in the old part of town — they make way for the steel and glass
monoliths of international hotel chains, multinational banking conglomerates,
and impersonal mega malls.
Street side food vendors set up to catch the passing trade of
office workers making their way home. In inverse proportion to the minimal
inputs — a few fold up chairs and tables, and a couple of gas rings — they are
able to conjure up the tastiest of snacks and light meals. We are snared; caught
in their trap. The meal is only meat, but it is marinated and char grilled to
perfection, washed down with an icy cold Leo. I think that was
meal number four.
After hooking up with his friend, we enter the bowels of an
anonymous office block and find his car in the underground car park. Joining
the famously lethargic Bangkok traffic, eventually we make our way out of the
larger streams and into quieter backwaters, where the rich locals and western
ex-pats live cloistered in gated apartment blocks. I’m not sure what they are
gated against, as there does not seem to be anything to be afraid of: the
streets are safe, the locals friendly, and the biggest problem they have is the
loss of their ultra-cheap Burmese maids.
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