Bangkok: Temples, Tuktuks, and Temptation

There can be only one first impression of Bangkok: it is HOT. Hotter, in fact, than anywhere I can recall with the possible exception of Mombasa, Kenya. With concrete and asphalt covering every surface and high-rises blocking the mild breeze, the heat index creeps up into the upper 40s (Celsius) during the afternoon, and rarely drops below the low 30s. Going outside is a persistent struggle and a battle lost to profuse sweating within a minute or two, and returning to the air conditioning feels like finishing a long workout.

The core of Bangkok is very much an imperial capital, designed to project the greatness of the kingdom, with dense urban development beyond. Broad boulevards crisscross the city center, with portraits of the king and queen in various outfits gazing upon the traffic from above. One such boulevard leads to the fascinating Democracy Monument, built to honor the 1932 constitution which was brought into force by a military coup. Four 24-meter tall wings representing the four branches of the armed services surround the monument, with reliefs depicting the Thai people being saved by the military. What’s fascinating about this monument is that it has very little to do with democracy – the regime that constructed it in the 1930s was a military dictatorship – and that it is explicitly anti-monarchy. The memorial is placed such that a portrait of the king in uniform literally faces off the monument, and the symbolism is important. Thailand stands out in the world for having an incredibly powerful monarchy, but King Rama VII abdicated his throne in 1935 rather than submit to the military junta that built the monument. Today, the monarchy is at the core of Thailand’s political system, and the royal family is protected by perhaps the world’s strictest lèse majesté laws in the world, with long prison sentences for insulting the monarchy. Thus, when the current king divorced his third wife in 2014, she was not able to publicly respond to the allegations he leveled at her without risking prison time.

The second day we were in town happened to be the queen’s birthday, which was a national holiday. The royal parade and cremation grounds at Sanam Luang sported a number of big guns for an artillery salute, and soldiers in extravagant yellow uniforms with beefeater-style hats were marching to and fro. An enormous tent was set up providing free meals to all, but the line was too long for us to want to partake.

The capital contains a number of royal properties, but none is grander than the Grand Palace, at the southern end of Sanam Luang. Shorts are considered disrespectful, but not the ridiculous elephant-print rayon pants they sell at the entrance, which I later discovered are called “harem pants.” In line for the palace, we met Luke and Matthew, two young Scots who had a hard time processing the fact that the US doesn’t have a monarchy. The palace itself, while no longer the official royal residence, is a maze of unbelievably opulent buildings, plazas, and spires, all inlayed with gold leaf and gems. It was like something out of Aladdin, but Buddhist. The latter part comes to view in the beautiful paintings of religious scenes lining the walls of the plazas, some with mythical beasts or Hindu-looking gods. There were clearly some preparations for a birthday event underway, as there were dozens of military officers hurrying around, and hundreds of young men in matching yellow t-shirts waiting around for something to do.

Alongside government buildings and palaces, the core of Bangkok also contains plenty of fabulous Buddhist temples. There was Wat Indharaviharn, which took 60 years to construct starting in 1867. The temple is built around a 40-meter tall statue Buddha and has a tower with great views. Next was Wat Saket, a temple on a hilltop known as the Golden Mountain. We climbed up a lush hill with waterfalls streaming near the path for some panoramic city views and an education into the city’s difficult past. Bangkok experienced repeated cholera outbreaks in the 19th century, during which "the massive pile of dead bodies attracted famous meditation monks, who came to observe the impermanent nature of existence,” according to the sign. The most extravagant was Wat Arun – a massive bejeweled spire on the river’s western bank seemingly held up by hundreds of ceramic figures that looked very Japanese in style. And finally, there was Wat Pho, which contained a building that looked like an elaborate aircraft hangar in which there was a reclining golden Buddha the length of two basketball courts. It was all rather dizzying over the course of three days. At Wat Pho we also met Zhou, a Chinese student at LSE, whose conversations with the two Scots were basically a free comedy show. “What do ya mean ya tell people yer name is George? The whole changin' yer name thing is right mental!”

From top-left: Wat Traimit in Chinatown (1,2), Wat Indharaviharn (3), Wat Pho (4,5), Wat Arun (6,7,8), Wat Saket (9)

Another thing Bangkok has in abundance is markets. Some are basically hidden – you walk through a small portal on a side street and you suddenly find yourself in a cavernous space selling flowers or fruit. Others become tourist attractions for their setting – either floating on a river or on train tracks (I’m going to have to save those for the next trip). But only one really gets the superlatives – the Chatuchak Weekend Market. Every week from Friday to Sunday, over 15,000 vendors descend on a compound reminiscent of a large military base in the north of the city to sell their wares to hundreds of thousands of locals and tourists. You could probably find everything imaginable in the vast grid of stalls, but there’s a particular focus on knockoff designer clothing and bags, and locally-designed crafts and clothing. Some shops are really strange – like one selling all manner of back scratchers, or another exclusively selling fake fruits and vegetables.

Alongside markets, Bangkok residents have developed a particular affinity for shopping malls. These are mostly packed into a single district east of the city center. Unlike American malls, there is hardly a parking spot in sight, and the gleaming TV screens and lights are almost evocative of Tokyo. The goods are mostly reminiscent of the markets, but range in how much more upscale they are – from cheap knockoffs at MBK Center to high-end fakes at Siam Paragon. We spent most of our time at MBK, reveling at the immense number of fake Gucci and Prada purses, luxury watches for $100, and Dolce & Gabanna shoes. There were also electronics stores selling things as odd as spy cameras hidden in outlets and a “digital endoscope”, and I got myself a huge new suitcase for 1,500 baht ($50). On the other end of the spectrum was Siam Icon, which had shops of all the designer brands being faked at the cheaper malls. All Thai shopping experiences include enormous amounts of food, and nearly half the area of the malls is devoted to malls. The posh malls have unbelievably elaborate food courts, including an entire mock Japanese village complete with canals at Siam Icon. The most interesting thing we got was durian ice cream with the same purple sticky rice we had had in Phayao, at none other than Dairy Queen.

Perhaps the most interesting district in Bangkok is Chinatown, which according to some is the largest outside of China. The first time we visited was during the day to try and visit a Chinese temple, but there was some ceremony going on and a uniformed man chased us out of the air-conditioned building. The place really comes alive at night, when tens of thousands of people crowd the sidewalks looking for food at any number of restaurants and street vendors. You could probably spend a month here and not have tried everything by the end, and we had some of our best Bangkok meals in Chinatown. Even Zhou gave the food a solid thumbs-up. A particular delicacy is shark-fin soup, which is completely illegal anywhere in the West and fetches prices starting at 2,500 baht ($85).

Bangkok supposedly has a good public transit system, but I was far from impressed. The city has both elevated rail (called BTS) and subway systems which are really quite nice (apart from the shoulder-level handholds), but neither actually reaches into the city center or was of much use to us. Instead, we were forced to get around on non-metered taxis which refuse to use navigation apps or buses from the 1980s which have no reliable schedules, unpredictable distance-based fares, and unfriendly ticket inspectors who walk around with a tube of change and charge you a seemingly random price. Richard and Zhou even got yelled at by a driver for speaking on the bus in tones that were quite reasonable, and we all got scolded by a ticket lady for holding on to poles instead of sitting. Worse still, the bus sometimes stops in the second lane, discharging passengers into active traffic with no warning.

On our first evening in town, we went to see another Muay Thai fight. This stadium was much larger and more proper, with absolutely phenomenal air conditioning. We even had to get a rapid COVID test upon entry, which apparently only took 90 seconds to produce results. This time, our cheap tickets actually made us sit in a further row, but it was all the better to observe the proceedings. The rows below us were crowded with men – and exclusively men – roughly between the ages of 25-50, in a betting frenzy that lasted for hours. Most of the betting took place on a messaging app called Line, and a lot of guys had two phones out for placing bets and making calls as they hid their mouths from curious eyes. As the rounds went on, the crowd became ever more electric, frantically waving their fingers with different numbers to indicate bets every time a fighter landed a good punch or kick. It was sheer madness.

The sheer number of scams Bangkok men try to in engage in is unbelievable. Friendly locals simply cannot be trusted, because they are almost always operating with an ulterior motive. The most common scam is telling people that their destination is closed, and offering to get them a tuktuk – that fixture of Bangkok streets – to a different site, which is supposedly open. Practically every place we said we were going to caused reactions of “it’s closed today”, “it only opens in the afternoon”, or “it closes in the afternoon” – and often all in quick succession from different guys. We did encounter some genuinely helpful locals – one even drew us a map of places to go with their names written in Thai for drivers! – but their numbers simply pale in comparison to the scammers.

Beyond the scams, the taxi and tuktuk drivers are unbelievably aggressive and always trying to chat up tourists and offer them rides, such that you can hardly walk down the street without three guys asking you where you’re from. The first tuktuk we took charged us an absurdly low price, but we quickly found out why. Instead of driving straight from our first destination to the second, he drove us to a tailor shop, which we discovered gave drivers free gas coupons in return for luring unsuspecting tourists. There, we were immediately intercepted by two exceptional salesmen who poured us beer and gave us catalogs to flip through as they showed off their products and tried to gauge our willingness to pay.

And then there’s the nightlife. Oh, the nightlife. “One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble,” and all that. For young foreigners, a night out means a crawl down Khao San Road, the closest thing to a religious pilgrimage site among backpackers worldwide. The road itself is not very long – only about 400 meters – but is absolutely packed with bars, clubs, and massage and tattoo parlors, surrounded by dense rings of hostels. The western end of the road has lots of signs in Hebrew (always a red flag), and ads for mineral water made by Thai beer companies, since alcohol advertising is illegal. Some COVID laws remain in force, so everything has to close at midnight. The clock strikes twelve, the cops walk through to see that everyone shuts down, and then it all starts back up again the minute they’re gone in a hilarious display of legal theater.

Walking down the road is an extreme sensory overload. Music blares at maximum volume from every place you pass, such that you are subjected to 4-8 different songs blasting at eardrum-rupturing volume while a swarm of promoters surrounds you in an attempt to pull you into their establishment. To avoid them, I pioneered a technique Richard dubbed the “Terminator walk,” in which I would walk with my chest out and eyes dead ahead, refusing to change course or make eye contact with any of the promoters. It usually took a few seconds, but they got the message. When you sit down, people come around with trays of spiders and scorpions sold as snacks, and ladyboys gaze seductively trying to strike up a conversation. Most of the bars cannot be characterized as remotely pleasant due to the multiple genres of music playing simultaneously at all times, but some are downright bad. When we went out with Zhou, we got served warm beer, and then were offered glasses of ice to pour it into, for which we were later charged. Some of the bars are decent, though, and where else can you watch two gay locals fellate a beer bottle and grind on your hostel receptionist to the sounds of Brazilian techno?

Along with the terrible experiences, we did have one unforgettable bender on Khao San Road. We went out with the Scots, and met two Dutch high school graduates and an older businessman from South Africa. Together, we snuck past a boxing ring and up a dark staircase to a club, where we haggled over the entry price like everything else in Thailand. The doorman finally agreed to let all of us purchase a single bottle service, kicking off a night as blurry as it was fun, marred only by the local women being more questionable than ever. I didn’t have to worry about it, but every male traveler wouldn’t know for certain whether his Thai companion was working – or whether she was truly female – until it would be too late. Said travelers (especially the Brits!) aggressively manhandle their partners and exhibit some of the most heinous PDA to be found anywhere, so lots of people are having a rough time. The highlight of the night was without a question a sudden fight between one woman celebrating her birthday and another who called her a slut, inviting a flurry of punches and intense hair-pulling that needed me and Richard to break up. I promised myself I wouldn’t drink so much again in the near future, but there was no better place to do it than Khao San Road.