Stilgherrian » travel

Unreliable Bangkok 1: Smell

Stilgherrian — Sun, 09 Dec 2007 04:28:26 +0000

When I arrived in Bangkok a fortnight ago, the first thing I noticed was the smell. But before I discuss matters of odour, let me explain how I’ll bring you my traveller’s tales…

As I’ve mentioned before, I wanted to spend my time in Thailand experiencing the country, not writing. I didn’t want to see it through the viewfinder of a camera either, but directly with my own eyes. So I didn’t take notes, and my only photos are a few pimple-cam images for reference.

Now that I’m back in Sydney, I’ll write a daily essay. Each one will be a personal, even idiosyncratic reflection. I probably won’t write about tourist things. Indeed, ’Pong and I avoided most standard tourist sites. But without notes, this will be an Unreliable Bangkok memoir — hence the title.

So, smell…

’Pong and his friend Yo met me at Suvarnabhumi Airport (ท่าอากาศยานนานาชาติกรุงเทพ-สุวรรณภูม) late on a Monday night. I wound down the window of her small sedan and the smell hit me. At first I thought it was smoke, something like wood burning but not quite. But the smell stayed with us as we took the expressway west towards central Bangkok and I started to notice its subtle complexity.

Smells trigger memories. The smell of Bangkok triggered memories of mangrove swamps, or that black, sticky mud that collects near weed-filled rivers. And of course Bangkok is a river city, sitting on a broad flood plain and threaded with muddy and sometimes stagnant canals like Khlong Saen Saeb (คลองแสนแสบ), the one in the photo.

I’m far from being the first person to notice Bangkok’s unique smell. In London, Xanthe lists “as you step outside the airport doors in bangkok” as one of her favourite smells. Conversely, Werewolf doesn’t seem to like it — but he grew up in the fresh air of the Atlantic coast, so I can understand. Plus his description is wonderfully detailed.

For me, that first smell of Bangkok said “You are now in a strange land,” the first real message that I’d left Australia. It wasn’t unpleasant, just different. It was exciting, too, because it told me there’d be more to discover the next day, once I had sunlight to see by.

By the way, that boat on the canal is part of the Khlong Saen Saeb Express Boat service. I’ll have more to say about that in another essay.

Smells… If you know Bangkok, what are your thoughts on its unique smell? And what other places have their own unique smell?

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Long Live the King!

Stilgherrian — Wed, 05 Dec 2007 17:12:15 +0000

Our last night in Bangkok happens to be the 80th birthday of King Bhumibol Adulyadej (ภูมิพลอดุลยเดช). The TV will have shown you the official celebrations of the world’s longest reigning monarch but, as usual, ’Pong and I chose a different path.

Instead of joining the squillions of yellow-clad Thais in the streets of the old city, we were on the notorious Patpong Road in the Silom district. The soi (ซอย) was lined with bar girls and ladyboys and rowdy street vendors — all wearing yellow shirts and holding yellow candles — plus a few confused-looking tourists.

’Pong has some great photos, taken when the video screens which normally show adverts for the girlie shows instead beamed us images of the King in all his finery. We all held burning candles, and those who knew the words (i.e. every Thai) sang the Royal Anthem, a song traditionally sung on royal birthdays and a third, new celebratory song, We love the King.

Very moving, though I wanted to knife the tiny handful of inconsiderate tourists who barged their way through the singing. Most, however, were soon handed a candle and joined the happy throng. Many had even bought their own yellow shirts earlier in the day.

Five minutes later, we were once more being offered ping-pong shows and “sex DVD, sir?”

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Suvarnabhumi Airport lacks a safety certificate

Stilgherrian — Wed, 05 Dec 2007 17:12:02 +0000

A fact I’m glad I didn’t know before I arrived in Thailand. Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport (ท่าอากาศยานนานาชาติกรุงเทพ-สุวรรณภูม) doesn’t have a Department of Civil Aviation airport safety certificate. Suvarnabhumi continues to operate because the requirement has yet to be adopted into Thai law.

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Nothing from Thailand yet

Stilgherrian — Sat, 01 Dec 2007 15:38:10 +0000

I haven’t been posting from Thailand because I want to absorb the place while I’m here rather than writing. It’s fantastic, though. I love the place — even though it presents a new way of putting my life at risk every day, usually just through using the transport systems provided. High-speed canal boats at night are… insane but somehow just right and Very Thai.

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Thailand approaches rapidly

Stilgherrian — Mon, 19 Nov 2007 15:24:39 +0000

Next week’s trip to Bangkok is taking shape. ’Pong has booked a fine-looking hotel at a mere THB2000 a night (about AUD66). I’ve been chatting with some Thai lads online — and been amused at the assumption that I’m a farang looking for, um more carnal pleasures. [sigh] Such assumptions! They seem to stop when I mention my boyfriend. So, 6 nights in Bangkok and then off to Chiang Mai. Any suggestions for things to do? And no, you can skip Patpong.

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How this ordinary aircraft will change my life

Stilgherrian — Wed, 07 Nov 2007 00:16:54 +0000

This Boeing 747-400, photographed at Sydney airport last Friday, belongs to Thai Airways International. If you happen to have decent eyesight, you can confirm this by the fact that it has “Thai” painted on the side. Ownership is not about paint, however.

If you paint “Thai” on my side, I do not then become the property of Thai Airways, not even if you’re employed by Thai Airways to do so. Paint is just paint, whereas ownership of property is an abstract concept. A concept which can be supported or asserted by paint or other physical signs, but still an abstract concept which can only be agreed upon by sentient beings.

But what about another concept: nationality?

Nationality is not about paint either. Paint “Thai” on my side if you like. If you use the right brush I might even enjoy it. But I won’t become even remotely Thai. However is nationality something which is just agreed upon? Or is there something essential — in the core meaning of the word, having to do with essence — which makes someone immutably Thai or Australian or Czech or Chinese?

And how does nationality relate to similar concepts, such as ethnicity or race or culture?

I usually don’t think about these categories. The variation within them outweighs the supposed differences. People of every nationality range from amiable to arsehole. However that aircraft — that specific aircraft — has brought it all into focus.

On Friday, ’Pong sat in that aircraft. It took off, climbed through that layer of brown shit on the horizon, and flew to Bangkok. It’s his first visit to his hometown in six years. That renewed perspective has already revealed previously-unnoticed bird sounds and a 3-litre iced beer dispenser.

’Pong is essentially Thai. He’ll tell you that he was always an outsider there, always a little bit different. Nevertheless, there are papers where next to the word “nationality” it says “Thai”. Paint, y’see.

On the other hand, we have a letter from a politician called Kevin Andrews which says ’Pong is Australian — or at least he will be once he recites a magic spell and shakes the hand of the mayor. And, due to the magic of dual citizenship, he will be both Thai and Australian at the same time.

But as I say, it isn’t the paint (or ink) which makes him Thai or Australian. ’Pong is certainly Thai because he can breathe pure chilli vapour with no ill effects. But he’s equally Australian because he understands the difference between Tooheys and Reschs and Coopers.

I’ve pondered Australian values before, but I mention all this today because in just under three weeks I’ll be sitting in that same aircraft (or one very like it) and also travelling to Thailand. As it happens, it’ll be my first trip outside Australia — and I reckon that’ll change my views about what it means to be Australian, and indeed what it means to be me.

People are usually surprised to discover that I haven’t travelled overseas before. I take that as a compliment, because I think it means they find me more worldly than the usual stay-at-home. I hope I won’t be like John Howard who, according to his historian brother Bob, was remarkably unchanged by his overseas travels.

Having read what you’ve read about me, how do you think I’ll change?