Copyright © 1975, 1996-2010, Randy R. Johnson, all rights reserved
Boy, this is really dated. But here's what Bangkok was like in 1974, before Khao San Road, the touts, and the T-shirt shops.
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I have had enough of Bangkok. I don't care if I never go back. Yes, Bangkok has its high spots -- magnificent temples, imposing Buddhas, and the remnants of a fascinating system of canals. Still, Bangkok is all but unavoidable when traveling through Asia. Jean and I passed through Bangkok four times in as many months -- first as avid tourists, and ultimately as reluctant itinerants.
The Thais call it Krung Thep -- "the City of Angels" -- but with well over two million people, it has grown up into a monster, strangled by progress. It is also a perplexing place to stay on a shoestring budget. To enjoy yourself in Bangkok, as in any large city, is to have an excess of money, or know your way around. I may never have the money, but I learned my way around the plebeian side of Bangkok, and it won't get the upper hand on me again.
Lowland Thais have always lived on the water. Bangkok was once cross-hatched with canals, but most of them have been supplanted now by paved streets. Still, Bangkok might pass as an agreeable city -- not, on the whole, picturesque, but pleasant enough for a trading center.
However, the volume of motor vehicles has quadrupled in the past ten years, and the traffic has shattered the atmosphere in all but the most secluded spots. Day and night, autos swarm the streets, darting recklessly down glutted thoroughfares. They foul the air with a haze of noxious pollution that irritates the eyes and often lies on the city like a shroud. To cross a main street is to take your life in your hands.
Traffic circles only muddle the confusion and heighten the noise, which is the most infernal torment of all. Exhaust silencers are unknown and large trucks, buses, motorbikes, and the obnoxious little three-wheel taxis clamor through the city, raising a noise level that is positively insufferable to any but the most hardened city folk.
Yet, unhappily, transportation is the first necessity that imposes itself upon the visitor. This means joining, even supporting that odious jumble of noise and smoke. Taxis cost money even if you know how to bargain in Thai, and the drivers will consistently overcharge you if you don't. Buses, on the other hand, are cheap and plentiful, though often overcrowded, and can be downright exciting, especially during the rush hours when you might just have to grab on and hang out of the doorway.
A few experimental rides will introduce you to the main routes. We avoided the taxi fare from the airport by catching the #26 bus out on the highway. It rambles all the way to the downtown railway station for a mere 2.25 Baht -- 11 cents for a 45 minute trip. A number of buses traverse the entire city for the nominal fare of 75 satang -- 4 cents.
Buses are fast, rugged, and safer than crossing the street -- but not much. The bus must be flagged with a wave of the hand, and it stops just long enough for you to get one foot in the door. The young boys and girls who work on the buses always keep things lively; with the constant "rat-a-tat-tat" of their cylindrical brass ticket boxes, they deftly rip off tickets, mark them with special tears, and make change, while somehow keeping track of those who haven't yet paid. Their familiar cry is heard all over Thailand as they call out to the driver when the bus is ready to roll. Over and over, their sharp "Lai-lai, lai" cuts through the thick air of the crowded bus.
Getting off the bus is as difficult during the rush as getting on, especially if you are searching for an obscure landmark as you stoop over in the crowded aisle.
"This is the place!" you shout to your comrades as you plunge toward a door -- any door. The struggle is particularly hopeless with a rucksack slung over one arm. Out on the street at last, you wait for the dust to clear to discover if your friends are with you. Then try to figure out if they got off one stop before, or after you did.
The next trick to living cheaply in Bangkok is to find a room you can live with, both physically and financially. A number of hotels cater especially to the budget-minded. The Malaysia Hotel has become the mecca of the Hippie Circuit. In the summer it is packed with young western travelers, swapping stories, meeting friends, and sharing information. It boasts a full restaurant and bar, a gift shop, bathtubs with hot running water, air-conditioning, and a swimming pool. Occasionaly, some of these facilities even work.
Whether you stay at the Malaysia or not, it is worth a visit just to pore over the huge notice board in the lobby. There is a mine of useful information, maps, articles for sale, recommendations, rip-off stories, companions needed, and other intriguing propositions. They also have a left-luggage room, which is usually piled to the ceiling with rucksacks and boxes, despite being entirely on the honor system.
The once noble Atlanta Hotel preceded the Malaysia as the foremost 'hippie hotel' in Bangkok. It features similar conveniences, and is less expensive but, like other "modern hotels", it is prematurely coming apart at the seams.
The Starlight Hotel belongs to the same genre, but is less well appointed and cheaper still. Its only saving grace is being smaller, quieter, and less well-known. However, the plumbing is dilapidating and quite a few young women of no great repute have moved in upstairs. At the Malaysia, such women just come knocking on your door (without being envited) -- at the Starlight, they are your neighbors.
If you are ready to dispense with the bourgeois comforts and really go intrepid, there are a few other designated spots. For those under 24, the Youth Hostel provides the cheapest single accommodation in town. Here, you get a hard bunk in a dusty barracks, a thin mattress, one sheet, and a mosquito net. They also provide a common toilet and shower -- cold of course -- outside.
However, of those who have even heard of the Youth Hostel, few have actually been able to find it. In fact, there was but one lodger at the hostel when we arrived. Near Chula Longkorn University, you must wend your way through the grounds of the vast Triemupom Boarding School. Our blessing was to discover the high school "English Club." One of the boys there was eager to look after us. He led us past fields and classrooms to the dingy bungalow at the rear of the grounds which is the Bangkok Youth Hostel. He also spoke with the manager for us and taught us a few useful phrases of Thai.
As renowned as the Malaysia is for its hot baths, pool, and occasional air-conditioning, so is the sleazy Thai Song Creet for its hard beds, insects, and noise. It is so centrally located that at night, it sounds as though you could catch any bus in town just by stepping out of your room. Yet here the intrepid flock to pick up their own souvenir lice at 30 baht (US $1.50) per night.
Having sampled most of the prescribed lodgings, we finally began to forage about for ourselves. Anywhere in the countryside, a rustic but quite livable double room could be found in an old Chinese hotel for 20 to 30 baht. So why not in Bangkok? Granted, the Thai Song Creet is a Chinese hotel, but it has been somewhat ravaged through its own notoriety.
Just across the canal from the central Houlampong railway station, we found a couple of old but sturdy Chinese hotels with quite modest yet comfortable accommodations.
The "Pepsi Hotel" is designated by the standard Pepsi-Cola sign that hangs over the stairway entrance. It simply says "Pepsi" at the top, and "Hotel" at the bottom. Like most Chinese hotels, the rooms are upstairs above a tiny restaurant. The common toilet was fairly crude and the manager a bit brusque, but we enjoyed a soft bed, a fan, and a verandah perched over a clamorous alley in Chinatown. As evening fell, the clatter softened outside, and the mingled aromas of frying foods wafted up on the balmy night air.
On our last visit, we arrived in Bangkok at 7 am to find no vacancy at the slumbering 'Pepsi Hotel'. So we wandered down the street to discover yet another obscure Chinese hotel. This one was marked only by a Coca-Cola sign with 'Hotel' written beneath in Thai. If you think it's difficult convincing your airline resevationist that you are staying at a hotel called the "Pepsi" try explaining that your latest hotel has no name at all.
Yet here, up four flights of stairs, we found a comfortable room with a fan, screens on all the windows, and even our own sink and shower to boot. A friendly young Thai boy facilitated the business of bargaining for the room, which we obtained for 25 baht. A rare find? Perhaps. But I can't help but think that many similar places only wait to be discovered. All it requires is a little exploring, a bit of imagination, and a few Thai numbers in your vocabulary.
Eating cheaply in Bangkok can be a rewarding adventure -- or a disaster, especially at first try. You can lunch happily from the myriad street vendors who line each thoroughfare. Here the old women sit all day on the street corners, dispensing but a few of their sweet broiled bananas. As the evening wears on, they often succumb to sleep against a dingy wall.
The city abounds with street peddlers, hawking banana fritters, fresh coconuts, furry red rambutan, and the ubiquitous litchi -- the proletarian delight. Feast on a large crispy pancake, doubled over and stuffed with shredded coconut, or a plastic bag full of fresh cut pineapple. Then discover Thai sweets, tasty raw peanuts, and even an occasional Indian chapatti vendor. Numerous bakery shops offer flaky Chinese pastries stuffed with rich sweet fillings.
You can also get a cheap, if somewhat questionable variety of hot Thai curries (gaang ped) from the street-side vendors. With a little practice you may be able to select one that is not too hot to stand. But with the abundance of delicious fresh fruit, who needs the dysentery?
When it comes to sitting down to an inexpensive meal however, it is difficult to discern where the food is edible, and harder still to order in Thai. Once you tire of endless variations of khao pot, (the standard pork-fried rice with egg) and grown weary of pointing to dishes that don't even look good, it's time to either learn to read Thai -- or find someplace with an English menu.
Our first day in Bangkok, we wandered into a little open cafe near the railway station, which we came back to time and again for good economical meals. At first glance it appears just like so many other dingy little eateries in town. But inside, it's clean and they offer quite good, if standard food at reasonable prices. Best of all, there are English equivalents on the menu, scribbled beneath the Thai, (a gift from some expatriate benefactor). They serve fantastic omelets and a delicious plate of fried vegetables, as well as the various rice-and-meat dishes. Just down the street, the hardy ones are choking down platefuls of greasy fried rice at the grubby Thai Song Creet Cafe.
The family that operates the cafe lives directly upstairs. Father cuts the meats and Mother fries the rice while Sister, 15, waits on tables and Brother, 11, cleans vegetables and cuts napkins into quarters. Sister would muse over her homework at one of the back tables in her free time, and Grandmother stormed down occasionally to start a family argument. We grew to know them in little bits and pieces, as we popped in regularly for a few days every three or four weeks. [Note: in the 80's this became a tourist T-shirt shop.]
But the pinnacle of budget eating and enjoyment has to be a visit to Bharni's Provisions on Sukumvit Road, near Soi 23. Here the traveler confronts an incredibly extensive menu of foods from all over the world, featuring tacos, Hungarian goulash, Malay saté, "United Viet Nam spring rolls", tempura, steak and kidney pie, bouillabaisse, coq au vin, lasagna, Korean barbecue, and much more. The menu itself covers both sides of the long narrow open-fronted cafe. A cluster of placards advertise complete dinners -- soup to dessert and coffee -- as well as a la carte dishes. The most extravagant meal on the menu is a turkey dinner with all the trimmings -- stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie.
The food tastes deliciously authentic and the atmosphere is light and friendly. The gentleman who runs the place (his lovely daughter is Bharni) delights in sitting with the customers and joking in Thai, Chinese, or English. A pleasant little patio is secluded beyond the kitchen for al fresco dining. It requires most of an evening just to read the menu at Bharni's, so a return visit is always in order.
The last, and perhaps the least of the necessities is shopping. The Weekend Market, which sprang up each Friday night on the Pramane Ground near the Grand Palace, fitted more into the realm of entertainment than shopping, but how can you separate the two where bargaining is half the fun?
Here, among the crowded stalls of food, clothing, and jewelry skulk a few itinerant fortune tellers and snake charmers. Here also are the frenetic medicine men who combine the fervor of a revival meeting with the guile of a medicine show, and put both to shame. Before your very eyes they heal the sick, raise the dead, and exorcise demons in water-spewing frenzies -- and then sell their little vials of snake oil and holy elixir. And sell they do.
The Thieves Market is not as entertaining, but more practical if you're shopping for necessities -- or just want to watch those who are. Near Chak Krawat Road, an endless maze of alleys sprawls under a deluge of shops, permanently overflowing into the streets and filled with the cries of the local merchants.
Colorful Thai temple rubbings make ideal gifts for friends who expect souvenirs. They are also inexpensive and easily carried. The best buy on multicolored rubbings is tendered just outside Wat Phra Keo, the Temple of the Emerald Buddha, at the Grand Palace. As always, a little bargaining goes a long way. But to assure authenticity, visit Wat Po, the Temple of the (gigantic stucco) Reclining Buddha. Here the rubbings are taken directly from the beautiful marble reliefs of the Ramayana, which circle the main temple building.
There is much to see at Wat Po besides the (questionably artistic) Reclining Buddha, and it is worthwhile to engage one of the self-employed guides who accost you inside the gate. Four of us joined together and enjoyed a most informative one-hour walking tour of the temple complex. Our guide spoke surprisingly good English and related the fascinating cultural and legendary history of each detail.
An early morning cruise down the klongs (canals) to the famous Floating Market area is an excursion that few tourists miss. Scores of "tour companies" offer boat trips to the Floating Market, for a substantial fee.
The market lies in the midst of a residential area, built among the canals of Thon Buri, across the wide Chao Phraya River from Bangkok. There must be some form of public transport, but how do you go about finding it? No one we spoke to knew anything about public transportation. The woman at the Tourist Organization of Thailand curtly insisted that we take one of their guided tours.
It took several days of perseverance, but we finally discovered the secret. We had returned to the TOT to pursue some elusive information on buses leaving Bangkok. Initially, all we got was the standard tour bus information sheet. But after we had loitered about in desperation for some time, the lovely young woman with the one word answers went home. So we tried again with her replacement, who turned out to be most friendly and helpful. She even called the bus terminal to confirm the departure times for us. We decided to press our luck and ask her about the Floating Market. To our great joy, she advised us to catch the local river ferry under the Phra Phutha Yodfa Bridge across the Chao Phraya.
There are, in fact, a number of ferry landings under both sides of the bridge and it took a bit of time and effort to locate the proper boat to get on. But here among the water people, we were met with straight answers and hearty smiles. The ferries are actually narrow open launches powered by gasoline auto engines, mounted directly onto long propeller shafts. The Wat Sai ferry churned up river, into Klong Bangkok Yai, past Wat Arun, the lovely Temple of the Dawn, into Klong Dan, and finally to the marketplace near Wat Sai. Here we disembarked and the boatman asked us for 2 baht each.
The trip lasted 45 minutes, but we stopped frequently at klong-side houses and temple landings where the locals brought their way of life right into the boat with us. The ferry moves fast in open water, a bit too fast to leisurely take in all the sights, but you can see directly into the open-fronted houses as children and businessmen prepare to leave for school or work.
The Floating Market area revolves around the bustling Wat Sai marketplace. Here, early each morning, local men and women gather in their hangyao (shallow skiffs) to buy and sell as they drift along. There are fresh fish and meats, as well as fruits and vegetables from the countryside. Floating vendors provide hot curries and rice for those who like to eat while they shop. A saffron-robed Buddhist priest offered a concoction of vegetarian delights, and young girls maneuvered skiffs piled high with colorful flowers, rambutan, mangosteen, and the creamy durian fruit.
On land we strolled around, leisurely sampling the local food and finding bargains in the large covered bazaar beside the canal. Outside, boatload after boatload of foreign tourists floated by on guided tour boats. They snatched a brief glimpse of the market through their cameras as they drifted by. Later they would stop at an air-conditioned arcade for souvenirs. But by taking the ferry we were able to get off and roam the village as few tourists do.
We crossed over the steep old wooden bridge to reach more shops and houses. After a brief snack, we ventured down a passage between two shops and emerged on a narrow stone path. Feeling adventurous, we struck off down the path, which led us all the may across the verdant triangular island formed by three klongs in the market area. Along the way, we saw but a few of the local people walking down the path or working amid the trees. They were warm but shy, except of course the children, who always laugh and shout at the sight of such strange people as we are.
We meandered for quite a while through lush, still plantation land, acres of banana and fruit trees and coconut palms. We passed through rice and vegetable fields, dotted with a few bamboo huts, criss-crossed with irrigation ditches and our one stone path. The forest lay quietly in green and brown. We might have been 100 miles to the north, in the rich bottom land of the Menam River Valley.
After some time in this lost oasis, we emerged to find another klong. We traversed the high overhead bridge, and descended to a large temple on the far side. After a short rest at the temple, we flagged down a passing river ferry, which brought us back to the Chao Phraya, and eventually, civilization.