Bumbling Through Bangkok

"The secret is not to act, but to be."

- Steven Seagal

My Thailand adventure was rapidly drawing to a close. After stops in Kuala Lumpur (which I know is in Malaysia, but I have deemed it part of the "Thailand adventure," simply because I can) and Chiang Mai, my final stop was Bangkok. The steaming, teeming, and always scheming capital city. (Please disregard the cheesiness of the preceding sentence.) Home to seemingly infinite supplies of massage parlors, go-go bars, brothels (as well as the far more convenient go-go bars/brothels), and t-shirts with ironic slogans (think Urban Outfitters on steroids), Bangkok attracts travelers from all corners of the globe with its few rules and plethora of cheap entertainment options.
As appealing as that all sounds, I could not jump right into the collective fracas when I arrived from Chiang Mai. On my last day up north, I had fallen ill from my malaria pills, which I had begun taking again (terrible decision) after discontinuing the dosage during my time in apparently malaria-free Ao Luk. I was fine until the fifth day, when I suddenly found it difficult to keep food within the confines of my body and had no desire (and limited ability) to unclench my limbs from a fetal position. And I had a head cold to complement the vomiting. Good times they certainly were not.


Despite my maladies, I gallantly soldiered on and was able to haul my lighter frame to Bangkok. In an effort to minimize the time spent looking for lodgings, I had made an online reservation at a seemingly reputable economy hotel near Khao San Road. I was confident that my room would be waiting for me in all its budget splendor. And maybe it was...but I never found out.

Upon arrival at the reception desk, I informed the manager of my reservation. He replied with a half-smile and began furiously looking through what I assumed was the reservation book. After about ten seconds, he looked up and conceded that there were no rooms available. My reservation was all for naught. Apparently, in classic Seinfeldian fashion, the hotel was able to take my reservation, but was unable to hold my reservation. And according to the sage Mr. Jerry Seinfeld, "that's really the most important part of the reservation." For anybody not getting my reference (you should be ashamed of yourself), take a gander at the clip below.



Alas, I was escorted by a young "assistant manager" on a 10-minute walk to another hotel that was evidently operated by the same company. Curiously, I was not given a free meal or a bottle of champagne to compensate for the inconvenience. However, the room's minibar did come stocked with whiskey, cigarettes, and multiple brands of condoms. So that was good.

After checking in, I had the unenviable task of filling my new anti-malaria prescription at a local hospital. Upon learning from a tuk-tuk driver that the medical facility recommended by my American doctor was "4 hours away," I proceeded to the closer Bangkok Adventist Hospital. As I waited while the reception staff scoured the premises for an English-speaking physician, I took note of the patient rights placard adorning the wall (see picture below). Needless to say, it was unhelpful in allaying my fears of being overcharged, misdiagnosed, sexually harassed, etc.



Although the receptionist had assured me that the doctor would speak "very, very good" English, she must not have been referring to the woman with whom I met. The doc spoke some English, but not nearly enough to comprehend what drugs I was trying to acquire and how many of the little white pills I needed. So, what did she do? What does anybody do these days when they don't understand something?

She Googled it. As I sat in the semi-clean doctor's office staring at a computer screen that rotated between Google and what appeared to be a Thai version of WebMD (I don't think trained medical professionals are supposed to reference that, by the way), I was doubtful that I would exit the building with the necessary medication in hand. Nevertheless, after a tiresome 20 minutes of confusing chit-chat about mefloquine, the doctor was finally able to fill my order. And she informed me that the hospital, which my slick driver had sworn was 4 hours away, was located a mere 20 minutes to the east. Lesson learned: do not believe anything that tuk-tuk drivers say.



The daylight hours of my 2-day stay in the capital city were spent taking in all the sights: the Grand Palace, Wat Arun, Wat Phra Kaew, etc. Not surprisingly, there was a dearth of excitement as I took many photos of important historical and cultural monuments and was not accosted by any crazies (sorry, I can't make them come to me). However, once the sun had set I was determined to find some uniquely Thai nocturnal entertainment (and not of the karaoke bar variety). So I went to check out a veritable Muay Thai extravaganza, held at one of the most fabled venues in the sport (so I've been told), Lumpinee Boxing Stadium.


The fight card was extensive as my admission fare granted me a front row seat for no less than 12 bouts. As the crowd stirred with anticipation, I bought a Singha and started talking to a couple of Australian gents who clearly had already consumed a beer (or ten). Since all of us were completely unfamiliar with the rules and customs of this ancient pugilistic form, we were a tad surprised when the opening round combatants emerged from their respective dressing rooms. Our confusion was twofold: they appeared to be 12 years old and had muscular definition far beyond their years.

Reminiscing about the gawky frame of my past (in stark contrast to my currently well-built body), I wondered how boys that young were able to build such brawn. Maybe I should take up Muay Thai to build, I mean improve, my muscles... I snapped back to reality when I witnessed what they did to each other in the ring and simply considered myself lucky that this was not an audience participation event. The first couple battles were lackluster affairs as the crowd waited out the youngsters in anticipation of the main event. With many of these early fights plodding along, I had the chance to peruse the promotional pamphlet that had been handed to me on my way into the arena. The brochure included insight into the history of the sport, basic rules, and famous champions of years past...

As well as an amazing triumvirate of celebrity endorsements. Featured in the handout were pictures of not one, not two, but three of the most absurd individuals in Hollywood. In no particular order of absurdity, they were Steven Seagal, Jean-Claude Van Damme, and Nicolas Cage. Talk about a marketer's dream. If I had any doubts about the legitimacy of the fights, they were quickly assuaged upon seeing The Great One, The Muscles from Brussels, and "Nick" (which apparently is Cage's incredibly uncreative nickname) gracing the pages of my program. I offer the image seen below as proof.



As the night went on, the fights became more entertaining. However, it should be noted that out of the 12 fights, only 2 boxers from the blue corner (which yours truly was sitting almost directly behind) won their contests. Coincidence? I think not. Anyway, the best fight of the night was the bout preceding the main event and I have included the final two (of five) rounds in the videos below. I'm not entirely sure if Mr. Red Trim Shorts broke Mr. Blue Trim Shorts' leg, but either way a stretcher was required after the referee called the fight. Beers and broken bones in Bangkok. What could be better?





NB: I have also linked the photos for my solo week in KL, Chiang Mai, and Bangkok in the upper-right hand corner of the blog, directly above the Thailand teaching album. Since I can't figure out how to make it automatically open in a new tab/window, I would again advise right-clicking so you can do that manually. (These basic computer tips are solely for my parents; I do not mean to imply that I am technologically savvy.) I have not had the time to edit out the less than stellar shots so you'll just have to sift through all of the pictures for the hidden gems. I have the utmost confidence that readers of such a highbrow blog will have little trouble with this. Don't let me down.