The Complexities of the Marketplace

On Sunday morning, we woke up early in an attempt to make our way to the Chatuchak Weekend Market before the afternoon heat settled in. We got to the market a little later than planned and joined the overwhelming crowd shuffling into the main area. The market was buzzing with local vendors and swarms of busy shoppers. We weaved in and out of narrow pathways, taking in an array of different sights and smells. The market reminded me of an enormous labyrinth – its design only truly understood from a bird’s-eye view. Luckily, our detailed map included a guide for the market, and on site, we also received an updated map which laid out the sections available for exploration in a more manageable fashion.

So – what was our game plan? Well, if any of us were to get lost, we decided to make our way to the Clock Tower, located at the center of the market. Easy enough, right? Hmm, I decided it would be wise to keep track of Amber and Sara – you know, just in case. I followed the girls as we braved the maze in a single file line which oddly reminded me of tiny ducklings following a mother who knew exactly where she was going (we took turns being the Mama duck and pretending to be intentional in our leadership choices). We soon passed food stalls which sent my senses into an unexpected frenzy. The combination of cooked meats, colorful fresh fruit, vats of curry, crispy yellow french fries and to my surprise, perfectly shaped mini chocolate donuts was more than I could handle at once – food galore to the extreme!

Overall, the market was a neat and unique experience. Though I’ve been to many markets before –including the most unrealistically crowded Ghanaian market which expanded indefinitely and left me bewildered – all markets have defining characteristics which arguably distinguish them from the next. Winding through the pathways, unaware of what would pop up next was my favorite part of this particular market. I eventually found a gorgeous pair of bronze earrings with dangling emerald stones, forcing myself not to cave into my impulse to buy the entire rack. Seriously, I have a problem with restraining myself when it comes to shopping for jewelry abroad (I’m thinking about creating a group for this very issue).

As we continued our way through the crevices of the market, I heard barks and yelps and realized we had reached the “animal” section that Sara had forewarned us about. I knew the upcoming encounter with animals for sale would boil down to internal sadness, but before I knew it, I was practically sprinting to find the animals. When I finally arrived, one thought came to mind: puppies and kittens and squirrels, OH MY! Literally – there were animals everywhere! I never could have imagined the size of this particular section of the market, and gawked as I walked past litters of dogs, kittens and even clusters of small rodents. Some animals were separated by glass, while others were right in the open – leaning over their metal cages trying to escape! We bent down to pet many of them, but became saddened by the ones who looked too tiny, cramped and hot to be in such a place. When I got to the squirrel section, I was really upset – the squirrels had brightly colored collars around their skinny necks, and their bodies were strapped down to wire cages by thin string. They could not turn around, let alone lift their heads at all. My western alarm for animal cruelty sounding, I suppressed thoughts of freeing the squirrels -- I've watched ET too many times. We spent about another five to ten minutes in this section, and decided it was best to move on.

After this experience, I pondered the way animals are viewed and treated in various countries, including the US and Thailand. I knew that the individuals selling the animals in the Chatuchak market were doing so to make a livelihood, and I understood their rationale. What I reflected on most was my western perception of the way animals should be treated – which at times can be classified as outlandish pampering rather than proper treatment in my opinion (I’m thinking dog costumes, doggy play dates, etc.).

After more thought, I found myself a lot less critical of the situation in which animals were being sold in the market, though the image of the chained down, depressed squirrel is forever etched in my mind. However, I realized that animals face far worse circumstances in the US and other western countries -- in terms of slaughterhouses and the innumerable ways in which animals are cruelly reared for consumption. What's worse is that many Americans are cut off from this process and in fact, the treatment of animals prior to mass consumption is invisible. Many of us only see the final product at the supermarket, making it a whole lot easier to enjoy.

Additionally, I realized that I am guilty for partaking in what some consider animal cruelty, due to the fact that I have the capability and flexibility to avoid meat but still am unable to fully commit to a vegetarian lifestyle. Though vegetarianism is not an option for all, and eating animals is an essential part of many cultures, I couldn't help but think of the Jains' strict policy on vegetarianism due to their support of ahimsa, or nonviolence for all living beings. Ultimately, I decided I should work on my own karma before passing any judgment on the practices of others.

Pan-ha: Questions and Problems

In Thai, the word for "question", or pan-ha, is also the word for "problem". So, if you want to say you "have a question", it can also be understood that "you have a problem". 

After that night at Soi Cowboy, the three of us mie pan-ha yuh (had a lot of questions/problems). We couldn't stop analyzing the night and discussing what Soi Cowboy illustrated - about Thailand, about ourselves and about humanity. As Amber said before, it was like everything we had read about, right in front of our faces. I tend to consider myself somewhat desensitized to the prevalence of the sex industry here because I've lived here for such a long time. I've come to better understand the culture behind the sex industry, an industry which has become much more than simply issues of supply and demand. But, Soi Cowboy was still something else. 

As we sipped on our beers, we wondered, what could possibly be sexy about fifteen naked girls on stage who weren't even dancing, but merely swaying in time to the music? Most of them didn't even make eye contact with customers, but rather looked at themselves in one of the multiple mirrors around the joint. So then we questioned the way men pick up the girls. Does a fellow just say, "Lookin' good, Number 22", referring to the number pinned between the bikini top, "Can I buy you a drink?". Does he eventually learn her name, or would it be easier to file her face away as a number in his mind? With a global service industry based on identifying customers by their social security numbers, telephone numbers or customer value numbers, should it come as a surprise that this particular sector is no different? 

...In Love With A Stripper

Erin brought up an interesting observation. She said, if an alien were to come from outer space and observe the same phenomenon, they would probably see: teems of men gazing up in adoration and awe of the raw feminine energy emanating from a group of beautiful, bronzed women displaying their female bodies onstage. If one didn't know any better, it could have been a sacred ritual performed in a "pre-historic", animist, matriarchal society where women were revered by men. We were only slightly more informed than the alien observer, as a group of well-off, well-educated (mainly white) women from the West. Thus, our tendency to view the spectacle before us as a bunch of fat, balding pervs who simply needed the bucks to bang young, exotic but desperately poor women from rural Thailand. 

But in so judging the, indeed saddening, state of the Thai commercial sex industry, perhaps we needed to reassess our position. Stories of love and marriage, leuk-krueng (half-Thai, half farang child) included, are commonly begun in places similar to Soi Cowboy. So often are we Western researchers (among others) keen to point out, study and fix the flaws of other societies without paying due treatment to our own society. Just today in the International Herald Tribune, it was reported that nearly a third of American female veterans say they were sexually assaulted or raped while in the military - 71% to 90% say they were sexually harassed by the men with whom they served. On another note, the incidences of sexual harassment and rape reported by females at American universities is staggering. We have our fair share of problems too. 

So then we questioned our societies too - and reached a new level of thinking. Is what we were really seeing a product of the modern era, to which the history of man has led us? Maybe it was a picture of the power dynamics between Man and Woman, Rich and Poor, East and West, Developed and Developing, Light and Dark, Hopeful and Hopeless, Desire and Desperation. Yeah, man, we had reached the metaphysical height of the discussion - and then we didn't know where to go from there but home. 

Keep Go-Go-Going: Friday Night Bar Crawl Along Soi Cowboy

Shy men who have been saying no all night find their wills sapped by drink and the ceaseless attention of near-naked young women; all of a sudden the prospect of going back to the hotel alone is more appalling—and somehow more amoral, a crime against life, even—than congress with a prostitute. Skillfully, the girls build a dream world of fantasy in the Western mind, a world that is mysteriously difficult to let go of. And the girls, too, have their fantasies: of finding the farang who would support them for life, or failing that, take them to the to the West and relieve them, for a year or two, of this living hand to mouth, not to mention the indignity of their trade. The bar is packed.  

from Bangkok 8 by John Burdett

Last night we went to Soi Cowboy. A short 10 or 15-minute walk from Sara’s home, we were all poised with excitement for our first night going out in Bangkok. After enjoying some Tex-mex food and icy margaritas for dinner, we decided to venture to this particular street (or soi in Thai) because of it’s notorious reputation for harboring some of the “nicer” commercial sex venues disguised as cheap bars with draught beer specials and beautiful dancing Asian girls. We figured since we were here in Thailand to study the sexual trafficking of women, we might as well do some informal research and see “a real flesh trade amid the flashing neon” as the guidebooks call it.

My first reaction as we turned onto the soi, was, “Wow, I feel like I’m at a carnival.” My eyes actually hurt from the brightness of the red, pink, and blue neon bar signs lining the crowded street. There was the smell of frying fish and spicy pork, mixed with a stench of alcohol and sweat as groups of men moved from bar to bar.

Once we reached the end of the street, we looked at each other and paused. Should we go in? We had made it this far. The first bar we chose was called Baccara and enticed us because it had no entrance fee and looked quite busy inside. Sara gently pushed Erin and I ahead, it was better if the farang (foreigner) girls entered first. I followed Erin’s ginger locks through the black curtain doorway and into a different world- a world where the fatter your wallet, the more love and attention you can buy.

Baccara’s featured two levels; the bottom floor featured the main stage where a group of little Asian women (sometimes) wearing tiny bikini tops and mini skirts bumped around smiling at the Japanese and farang men below them. I couldn’t help thinking that the stick-thin girls looked like chopsticks with hair, bouncing up and down on the table before the meal is served. To add to the image, the girls displayed little plastic buttons with numbers clipped to their bikinis, so that customers could place their order hassle-free. Very sexy, indeed. The upper level of the bar also had a stage, with an infamous glass floor, so that customers on the lower level could see up the women’s skirts. Internet sites advertising Soi Cowboy joke that in the West, farang women struggle to be promoted above the glass ceiling in the workplace, but the bar girls at Baccara’s have already succeeded in this lofty goal.

Erin, Sara, and I sat by the bar, facing the stage, next to a farang couple. Besides two farang couples, we were the only females in the place. I didn’t order anything from the bar, which was apparently unacceptable, as we found out when one of the bar waitresses came around to hound me down about ordering a drink. Sara pointed out they have to keep the clientele liquored up to maintain the dream-like atmosphere; the bar is not part of reality, so you can leave your moral constraints outside. As Sara and I dealt with the feisty waitress, Erin was swept up into a conversation with an Aussie guy selling real estate in Bangkok, who upon learning Erin was here for a research project, revealed he didn’t even know what trafficking was. Erin took her time enlightening him on the hidden crimes connected to the commercial sex trade, and he in turn offered his own insight, “Well, ya know it’s a different mentality for these girls. For them, sex is like washing dishes.”

Sensing our cue to leave, we ventured down the street to a less popular bar, probably because there was no full nudity. There were fewer girls on stage in this bar, but there were mirrors everywhere, creating the feeling that you were surrounded by booty shorts in every direction. This bar was too dark for our taste, had strange leather seats, and the music was too repetitive, so we continued down the road.

A tiny young girl with short buzzed hair and wearing little red jumper pants was wandering the street selling red and white roses. Erin bent down and bought two red ones, which made her giggle with glee. We passed her later, after she sold all of her roses, and saw her with a huge smile as she stood looking up at a big men pumped with steroids, walking out of a bar with a Thai girl linked on his arm. There is something wrong with a world that will ignore a little girl on the streets until the day she grows breasts.

Neon lights attracted us to Midnite Bar, which could be mistaken for a cosmic bowling center, if not for the go-go girls outside of it holding signs that read “Draft Beer 90 Baht All Nite Long.” Unlike the others, this bar was well lit inside, and as we walked through the crowd of men to a free corner in the back of the bar, we could feel some of the men shrink a bit and lower their heads. Our presence in the bar disrupted the dream and brought them back to the reality—and back in touch with their moral consciences.

Erin, Sara, and I could not maintain much anonymity in this bar, and before long we had a little group of bar girls cooing around us, touching our hair, asking us to smile, and then giving us big thumbs- up signs. The girls loved having other girls in the bar, especially a redhead and a blonde. Sara was assumed to be our Thai chaperone for the evening, and the girls conveyed to Sara in Thai how ecstatic they were that she brought such cute farangs to their bar. The girls loved dancing with us, even if it was just in our little corner. We got the chance to talk to a few of the girls; one girl who was particularly infatuated with our curvy bodies, told us she has two babies. One other girl told us it was her birthday tonight. She was turning twenty years old. We asked her if she liked working there, and she shook her head, “No, no. But I have to. For my father. My father sick.” Bam. Talk about a whack over the head when everything you’ve been reading in the research literature- suddenly is standing right in front of you, talking.

I admit, at many times during the night I turned into a robot. I couldn’t decide what outraged me the most- the fact that some of these girls didn’t seem to mind selling their bodies, the fact that some foreign men justified their sexual escapades as if it was just another business transaction, or that statistically, some of these girls were probably victims of sex trafficking- brought to Bangkok from their small villages up north under the guise that they’d be working in a nice, up-scale, restaurant. Are we really part of a society that still upholds the Madonna-Whore complex, full of men who want to marry respectable women who maintain their purity, but then indulge in hiring a prostitute during a business trip to Thailand?

The night was an experience I will not forget. Perhaps we should have stuck to The Lonely Planet’s guidebook suggestion for seeing Soi Cowboy during the day: “Stop in at the nearby internet cafes to see groups of bar girls writing love-letter emails to their new sugar daddies; the well-worn piece of paper in from of them is something of a ‘master’ copy.”

Can You Super-size the Pad Thai?

Yesterday was one of those rare days when I actually managed to wake up in time to see morning. It was an even rarer day since I decided to go work-out without any poking or prodding from family members or close friends. My utter lack of will to exercise has become a joke. There is a long-running understanding between my boyfriend and I that whenever I mention "I should go for a run" or "I should go work-out", we just have a good laugh and then order a pizza and watch movies. 

The "problem" is that Thailand has become the "Land of Food" to me more so than the "Land of Smiles" (although smiles are equally as abundant here). Not only is the Thai food amazing, but if one ever gets tired of fried rice or pad thai (which frankly, I didn't believe could happen), there is a great selection of international foods. On Wednesday, as Amber, Erin and I sat eating sushi in the Japanese restaurant chain Fuji, we joked that next we would have to dine at an Indian restaurant since we have already eaten Thai, Italian, Japanese and Mexican (nachos count, right?).  But regardless of our ongoing quest to sample all the delightful food Thailand has to offer, I generally think of myself as a healthful eater. So imagine my surprise when, in the course of one week, I discovered all my pants fit much more snugly around the bum. Hm, now that I think about it, I guess the healthful properties of vegetarian khao pad and pad thai are compromised by the "pad" (fried) part. So, I vowed to myself that I would get up early, when it was still cool (80 degrees Fahrenheit), and exercise. 

After much tossing and turning, I woke up yesterday at 6 am and was out the door by 6:30, pepped for a run at the Buansiri Park (near Emporium & the Queens Imperial Park Hotel). Now, to put it mildly, running is not one of my most favourite forms of exercise however, it's free. This means a lot to a student-cum-backpacker (okay, "wanna-be backpacker"). Plus, the Buansiri Park is to Bangkok as Central Park is to New York City. It's a lush, green and tranquil space in the midst of a crowded, kinetic urban jungle. There's a large pond and fountain in the middle of the park, encircled by a meandering stone footpath, which was encircled by a wider paved pathway for runners. 

On my first lap, jogging in time to The Bravery's "Unconditional", I passed a group of Thai and Chinese elders fan-dancing, gracefully snapping their red fans open in time to their music. About half-a-lap later, pausing to catch my breath, I watched a group of Japanese and Thai youths doing something that resembled the Electric Slide. On my second lap, I admired the multiple bulbous sculptures that made me think of voluptuous women, pregnant women, mother and child, and all things relating to the femininity of womanly curves. On my third lap, listening to Britney Spears' "Piece of Me", I decided I didn't care about being "extra-dextra-licious thin" and started my cool-down. By my fourth lap, now walking on the inner path, I had counted: three different tai-chi groups, two jogging farang men who really needed longer pairs of shorts, and one bench occupied by four Sikh men who probably told their wives they were going to exercise but actually convened to gossip for an hour. I knew this fourth lap was my last as I began to feel the rising sun's rays beat down on my back - time to retreat to the air-conditioned indoors. 

It didn't take long after beginning my short walk home that again, I was tempted by the Land of Food. The sumptuous scents of baked coconut milk, fried bananas and sweetened condensed

milk emanated from the breakfast food stalls positioned at the mouth of our soi. I spied my personal favourite, plathongo among the array. Plathongo is essentially fried dough shaped like a chromosomal pair. It's curious shape is based on a story about a young prince and princess who were punished for their forbidden love by being tied together, back to back, and burned at the stake. One pulls apart the the dough and dips it generously in sweetened condensed milk. Yum. Next to the plathongo was kanom kroke, which is made by pouring coconut cream into scalloped pans to cook. Each piece is shaped as a mini-hemisphere, with a crispy, slightly salty shell and warm, gooey coconut cream inside that melts in your mouth. Double yum. Slightly drooling, I somehow managed to will myself to the other side of the soi. 

However, I got to thinking about a curiosity I always notice when I come to Thailand. I see people carrying food, eating food, cooking food, selling food, buying food all the time and yet, obesity is practically a non-issue. I can count exactly four Thai people I have seen so far that could be considered obese. Now, that's not to say that all Thais are thin either - there are certainly many healthy looking individuals. But there is no evidence of obesity becoming a critical public health concern for Thailand as it has in the West (particularly the United States). I wonder why this is so, despite the cheap, unhealthy Thai foods and the ever-increasing presence of Starbucks, McDonalds, Burger King, Dairy Queen. My hypothesis involves two parts:

1. There is less of a price difference between healthy and unhealthy foods than in the U.S. No exhaustive survey of food prices in supermarkets and restaurants between the U.S. and

Thailand has been completed on my part yet, but I have picked up on general trends. In the U.S., my friends and I always complain that the fresh produce and healthy foods are so much more expensive than foodstuffs like chips, sweets and frozen ready-made dinners. And the only two places I can think of in the U.S. where one can get cheap, healthy, fast food is Subway and Chipotle. So, you have your choice of meat, vegetables and cheese in a sandwich, on a pizza, or wrapped in a tortilla. While their assembly-line system lends itself to a surprising number of combinations, I feel like Thai food stalls offer people a much wider array of noodles, rice, curries, grilled meat and fish, fresh cut fruit, and stir-fried vegetables with no one meal costing more than 120 baht. Even in the markets, fresh fruit and vegetables can be bought for anywhere between 20-50 baht a kilo, depending on the type and the season. I'm aware I'm glossing right over the broader micro- and macro-economic mechanisms at play but I don't really feel like opening up my Econ notes right now. 

2. Thais take part in a communal, more time-consuming culture of eating on a daily basis. Thais are taught from birth how to savour dishes appropriately, adding spoons of sugar to noodles or naam plaa prik, spicy fish sauce, to noodles. Meals in Thailand are usually social affairs that involve at least an hour and a half of discussion, gossiping and laughter. Although Thailand has its fair share of fast food joints where one could theoretically get a Value Meal and consume it in less than 15 minutes, with or without a little conversation on the side, the attitude is: why would anyone want to do that? And so people take the time to savour their food when eating alone, and take even more time to sample and share meals among family and friends. Thais enjoy one another's company over food as a part of life, rather than taking time out of life for mealtimes. I think that when a culture fosters the practice of savouring and sharing meals within people, they are much more likely to have a healthy, honest relationship with their food, their appetites and their bodies. 

Well, these are just some thoughts I had. I will have to ponder some more but in the mean time, I figure, while in Rome... might as well have some more pad thai. 

Just Go With it: An Unexpected Joyride

Amber and I had it all planed out: wake up bright and early on Sunday morning, catch a taxi to the bus terminal, hop on bus number 73 and arrive at the floating market just in time to beat the tourists who were on a mission to check the floating markets off their to-do lists – or so we thought. When Amber’s alarm went off, she turned to me and said, “If we want to go, best get up NOW.” I interpreted that as I had at least another half an hour of sleep – which ended in both of us rolling back over in our cozy beds and sleeping through the market. As Sara headed out for a family day, Amber and I realized we had to face the city on our own and live up our last couple of days in Bangkok. As I flipped through the guide book, a new plan materialized: the National Museum, of course! We both got ready and sat in the guest house, waiting for the strong rain to let up. We finally grabbed our umbrellas and headed out the door – ready for the adventure that awaited us.

After getting off the Sky Train, we jumped on a boat heading up the Chao Phraya River. We got off at the right pier (with a little help), walked down an alleyway painted with graffiti and were spit out in the middle of the street. “Left or right, we thought?” Our question was quickly answered by a friendly Thai man who probably felt obligated to help the two bewildered farangs who stood before him. “Where are you going, madam?” he asked me. I told him our plan of heading to the National Museum, and he assured us that tomorrow would be much better for visiting it. He then proceeded to write the Thai name of another temple nearby which we could take a tuk-tuk to visit instead. We thanked him for his advice, but headed in our original direction – the National Museum! We were not giving up that easily.
On the way, we were stopped by a tuk-tuk driver who assured us he could bring us to the National Museum, take us to the Golden Mount, and then take us to a shopping district for “two minutes,” to peruse jewelry stalls while he loaded up on free gas – all for 50 baht. We thought this was an odd plan, so declined and kept walking.

Upon entering the museum we realized it was already 3:30 and it closed at 4:00. We sulked for a bit, then picked ourselves up and headed out, desperate to find any local attraction that would make our long journey seem worthwhile. Before we knew it, we were waved over by another tuk-tuk driver, spouting the same “free gas” plan that we had heard earlier - only this time, he wanted to take us to a tailor shop. It was not until the next day that Sara informed us of the warning on our map:

Beware! Many very convincing touts work Bangkok’s top tourist attractions. Posting as helpful students or friendly “tuk tuk” drivers, they may tell you the temple or shop you are going to is closed, then suggest you visit a ‘respected’ gem shop or tailor for a special ‘one day only’ sale. Don’t be fooled! They get ‘tea money’ just for bringing you there and commission son anything you buy. Then again, you can work this to your advantage: Clever friends got free transport around the city for exchange for ‘browsing’ in a few select shops!

Since our plans had all failed miserably, Amber and I decided to simply go with the flow. We jumped into the tuk-tuk and embraced the mysteriousness of our next move.
Within seconds, Amber and I looked at each other with bulging eyes wondering what we had gotten ourselves into. We realized that we had chosen quite the colorful tuk-tuk driver – his high pitched voice belted over the traffic asking us where we had come from, while giving us energetic salutes which required taking one hand off the wheel and grinning to us in the rear view mirror. This move obviously frightened us, especially as we joined the sea of zooming tuk-tuks and a crash seemed imminent. After learning we were from America, the driver exclaimed: “Ahh..California! Las Vegas! New York!” and laughed maniacally to himself. Amber and I chuckled along – expressing a combination of uneasiness and unexpected thrill. We continued to weave through the streets and entered what appeared to be a massive drag race of Bangkok tuk-tuks. The tuk-tuks roared past one another – and Amber and I tightened our grip on the side railing, hoping not to spill out. We noticed tuk-tuks to our left and right. Their colorful seats blurred in my peripheral vision, reminding me of a carousel that left its passengers dizzy. I turned to Amber and she let out an exhausted breath. "Just go with it," she said - so I did.

After our speed racer experience we finally arrived at Wat Sakhet, also known as the Golden Mount. We said goodbye to our tuk-tuk driver, who waited at the bottom of the wat while we made our way to what we perceived as the entrance to the Golden Mount. To our right, we passed a gigantic golden Buddha and a small shrine in the front which was showered in lotus flowers, burning incense and candles. As we continued up the steep stone walkway, we passed mini waterfalls, elegant elephant statues and droves of people coming down. It didn’t dawn on us that we were walking up the designated exit path until we passed more people and finally a monk whose presence jolted our consciences. We turned around and proceeded in the correction direction.

We climbed the winding stairs and paused periodically to catch a glimpse of the beautiful view over the city. We finally made it up to the very top, took our shoes off and entered the temple. Inside, many people sat in front of shrines, praying and chanting – their peaceful auras contagious. We reached the very top of the wat – and the infamous Golden Mount was revealed. It towered over those walking around it, including one family that walked in a slow, single file line as they prayed. Amber and I walked around the golden structure and peered over the edge of the balcony, breathing in humid air and taking in the visual stimulation of wats and the myriad of buildings which stretched across the city. Satisfied that we had made it to the top, Amber and I headed back down the Golden Mount and found our tuk-tuk driver who was excited about our next stop – the tailor! We hopped in and headed out. We passed a train station and sure enough, ended at a row of shops. “You look for two minutes!” he exclaimed. Amber and I looked at each other with a smile and headed in. The tailor shop was filled with colorful fabrics, clothing and silk ties. I had not intended to purchase anything, but found a green silk tie which reminded me of my dad. I gave in and purchased the tie – later realizing that the tuk-tuk driver was probably ecstatic over his commission. After our fun joyride, we arrived back to the pier and paid our tuk-tuk driver 5 baht each. We proved ourselves to be “clever friends” who darted around the city for practically free.

Wat's on the Menu Today?

"Wat's (Thai word for temple) on the Menu Today?" seems like an appropriate title for this entry given the fact that Monday was a day jam packed with eating, lounging around, more lounging around, an excursion led by Mr. Lehman to the Marble Temple, followed by (surprise, surprise) -- more eating. However, without Mr. Lehman and his inclination for adventure, this entry would be a lot more focused on food. So, let's all take a moment to appreciate Mr. Lehman!

"The family" -- Sara, her mom and dad, Amber and I -- started our day with a delicious feast at Govindas Restaurant, a popular Italian vegetarian restaurant which offers an array of veggie dishes, from fake bacon and sausage to a baked spinach and mozzarella dish -- which was my personal favorite. We had great conversation, and the most memorable part for me was the discussion of women's roles in the Buddhist tradition -- and how they are largely discriminated against when it comes to being ordained and revered in a similar fashion as men. Sara's mom told us a great story of her strong-willed grandmother who became a nun and founded a separate center for nuns who did not want to partake in the subservient roles of most, including tasks such as cooking and cleaning for monks. Instead, her center offered devout women a sanctuary where they could practice their faith in the same manner as men, though they were still systematically denied the same status as monks (as a symbol of the separate and unequal status of monks and nuns, nuns are barred from wearing yellow, saffron robes, and instead wear white).

After lunch, we lounged around until Mr. Lehman guided us out for an evening celebration of the Thai national holiday. This year, May 19 marked the holiest day in Thai Buddhist culture. Visakha Bucha Day (Bucha meaning to pay homage to) commemorates three important aspects of the Buddha's voyage as a spiritual leader: his birth, enlightenment and death. The celebration was beautiful, set at the the Wat Benchamabophit, also known as the Marble Temple. The Marble Temple is exquisite -- the outside is defined by stunning columns of smooth, white marble, which meet golden rooftops reflecting some of the most revered Thai architectural designs in the country. Built in 1899 by H.R.H. Prince Narisranuvattivongse, the half brother of Chulalongkorn, Rama V, this temple is a main attraction for tourists and is used today by many monks for meditation and educational purposes throughout their practice.

As we arrived at the Marble Temple, I was taken aback by the droves of Thais who carried lotus flowers, incense and burning candles as they engaged in a walking meditation, circumambulating the radiant temple. We joined the group, walking slowly and experiencing the uplifting, spiritual energy that emanated from the crowd. As we completed one circle and made our way to the front of the temple, I became enthralled by the numerous people lighting candles and saying prayers at designated areas for individual devotion. The area surrounding the temple was crowded with devotees, Thais, photojournalists and even some farangs -- all of whom gathered to witness this annual event.
We made our way inside the temple, walking through the courtyard which held an elaborately decorated shrine, and various statues of the Buddha. We took off our shoes (or the infamous boot, in Amber's case), and headed into the temple to sit with other individuals paying their respects. The statue of the Buddha in the middle of the temple was composed of 2.5 tons of bronze and is known as "Phra Buddhajinaraja." This Buddha holds the ashes of King Rama V, and sits atop a LOTUS flower.

One of the highlights of the ceremony was a speech made by an older monk (the topic and content of which is unknown to me due to the language barrier), and the appearance of many other monks who descended from the temple entry down the stairs, into the front of the gathered crowd. They engaged in chanting, and then led the way for another round of circumambulation.

After this wonderful experience, we hopped in a taxi and followed Mr. Lehman to our "surprise" destination. We stopped at a local store and ordered three portions of sticky rice with fresh, succulent chopped mango, to which we added sweet coconut milk and nuts (or rice krispies according to Sara) to. As I explained to Sara, Amber and Mr. Lehman, that meal combined all of my favorite foods -- namely, rice and mangoes!

Bangkok Sightseeing: What Wat?

Today was the day of temples, or wats, as they are called in Thai. We started out our tour at 7:30 am with a ride down the Chao Phraya river on the river taxi. Crossing the Chao Phraya everyday are hotel taxis, massive barges, tugboats and river taxis filled with both tourists and Thais alike. As our taxi waded through the masses of water hyacinth, we passed the Portuguese embassy, Chinese temples and Wat Arun (The Temple of the Dawn). Soon, we reached our destination - the stop for the Grand Palace complex. 

Located on the same expansive grounds, Wat Phra Kaew and the Grand Palace are the two sites most frequented by tourists. The Grand Palace

complex was built in 1782, housing the royal residence, government ministries and Wat Phra Kaew, or the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. Housed inside the wat is the Emerald Buddha sitting regally atop a glittering gold throne. The Emerald Buddha was actually carved from a block of green jade, but was thought to be emerald by the first person who discovered the Buddha in 1434. The emerald buddha has three different outfits depending on the season. Today the buddha was still wearing his summer outfit though we can expect his outfit to be changed soon since the monsoon season has begun. Only members of the Thai royal family are allowed to change the emerald buddha's robes. 

Surrounding Wat Phra Kaew are lavishly decorated stupas, pagodas and statues. Many of the structures are covered in coloured ceramic tiles, mirrors and lots of gold. The inner walls of the courtyard are covered entirely in paintings depicting the tales of the Ramayana. The murals constantly require restoration as the elaborate paintings must face the extreme weather of Thailand's monsoon season and hot(ter) season. 

A quick jump from the Wat Phra Kaew grounds is the Grand Palace. The Grand Palace features both Western and Thai architectural styles - the bottom half of the structure being Western, topped off with a Thai-style roof. As we approached the building, we were able to witness the changing of the guards. We also saw many mourners, dressed entirely in black, visiting the King's sister who lay in state in the Dusit Maha Prasat Throne Hall. After passing away in December 2007, the mandatory five month national mourning period for her death has just recently ended. 

The next stop on the tour was only a quick tuk-tuk ride away - Wat Po. Wat Po is a temple

housing one of the largest reclining buddha statues in the world. Wat Po was more enjoyable than the previous because although it was in a greater state of disrepair than Wat Phra Kaew, it was much less crowded. We didn't have to weave our way through snap-happy tourists with their Nikon cameras or worry about losing each other among the throngs of visitors. Although we did meet the Shoe Nazi. The Shoe Nazi was a little man with a white head of hair, in bowl-cut style, and a thick, white mustache that took up most of his face. It seemed to be his job to direct visitors: 

"Shooze! Een de boks!" ... "Een de boks!"

As we paused to retrieve our shoes from outside the temple, Amber sat on a ledge neatly displaying a "Do Not Sit" sign. However, with her fractured foot and the wieldy black boot (featuring lots of velcro straps) that needed to go on it, surely people would have understood her need to take a seat. Not the Shoe Nazi.

"Why you stop?! Agh, you mek long liiine!"

So we scurried on, shoes in hand. 

The last wat of the day was Wat Bowon which is where many important men have been ordained as monks, such as - current king Bhumibol Adulyadej, his son the Crown Prince and last, but certainly not least, my dad. Today we managed to see a few recently ordained monks, their families taking pictures of the young boys with their newly shaven head and eyebrows. This time of year, at the onset of monsoon season, is a popular time for Thai men to choose to be ordained. In Thailand, being ordained is a rite of passage for Thai men. They can be a monk for three days, three months or for the rest of their lives. 

After the last wat visit for today, we walked to the (in)famous Khao San Road. Referenced in numerous travel guides, backpacker blogs and the movie The Beach, Khao San Road is everything you'd expect and more. You've got your typical European/Canadian/Australian backpackers drinking beer at 11 am, getting their hair beaded, and wearing bikini tops in the middle of Bangkok. You've got Bangkokians dressed up as northern hill tribe women selling northern hill tribe wares at Bangkok prices. You've got street-smart entrepreneurs selling fake everything - fake IDs, fake Rolexes, fake Hurley board shorts, fake CDs, fake Gucci sunglasses... You want it, they got it and they'll even bargain you for it. And then you've got people like us, just on Khao San to watch everyone else.  

First Breath of Bangkok

We arrived in Bangkok on Thursday night around midnight.  As we left the air-conditioned airport, we were hit with a wave of hot, humid, heavy air. Welcome to Bangkok!

Within our first 30 minutes in the city, driving home in the narrow streets, we zoomed by a huge swaying elephant with a man on his back. Apparently elephants are not an uncommon sight in Bangkok, despite the fact that our host, Mr. Lehman, joked that it took a lot of planning to get the timing right for our special welcome sighting.

Erin and I are so lucky to be staying with Sara's family for the summer.  Staying in their guesthouse is a much more pleasant experience than staying in a dirty hostel.  The guesthouse is made of pine with a small porch, a kitchen stocked with fresh fruit, and a bedroom that smells like sweet flowers.  

We are still recovering from jet lag, since we completely flipped our sense of time by crossing the international date line and moving 11 hours ahead of the States.  Despite our waves of exhaustion that hit during the late afternoon, we've been making the most of our mornings. Friday morning we attended a press conference at the Foreign Correspondent's Club of Thailand, on the topic of the humanitarian aid situation in Myanmar, following Cyclone Nagris. The journalists were hungry for a story, but despite the death toll and missing persons estimates the UN panelists tried to maintain an optimistic outlook.  Being an aspiring social activist and psychology major, one thing that interested me during the conference was UNICEF's desperate call for psychological experts to help deal with separated children and families. Despite the intensity of this work, I'd like to be involved in mental health crisis care in the future.

Every city has its commercial side, and Bangkok's is alive and thriving. Since I haven't been in a large mall for quite a long time, the Emporium and the multi-level MBK Center, which we visited this morning, were quite a shock.  Standing on the first floor, I looked up with a mix of curiousity and confusion to the many zig-zagging escalators, full of happy Asian consumers and tourist Farangs (foreigners). I could almost see Baht notes floating down from the ceiling as I wandered through the maze of stores, occasionally catching strong whiffs of steamed squid.  Erin and I managed to keep up with Sara as she showed us where to buy cheap DVDs, knock-off Birkenstocks, and plenty of Hello Kitty paraphernalia.  

Adventures to come: exploring Bangkok's nightlife, visiting Jim Thompson's house, eating at Cabbages and Condoms restaurant, Temple visits, weekend beach voyages, trip up north to Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai for research interviews, possible trips to Laos and Cambodia...

stay tuned!

Lotus love,

Amber