Surprise chicken bones. Shimmering Buddhist shrines. Tuk tuks out of transit. I am doing my best to absorb everything around me and get to know Bangkok. In no particular order, here are some mediocre iPhone photos taken of sights seen, foods eaten, and tattoos inked.
What the f is wrong with me? How could I possibly lose my cell phone? HOW HAVE I MADE IT THIS FAR IN LIFE?
On Friday, my friends and I went to Khao San Road, one of the most touristy nightlife destinations in Bangkok. It wasn’t until we were back at home that I realized it. Phone = gone. I thought back to the timeline of the evening. We started the night at Khao San posted up at a bar where we drank buckets of soda that were allegedly alcoholic. At the bar, I definitely had my phone, but couldn’t remember using it after we left to dance in the street. Whether someone stole it out of my purse or I left it at the bar, it didn’t matter. It was 4 am and it was gone. We ate street food noodle soup and I tried not to be too upset about the fail.
My friend Chris (pictured above) helped me try to get it back, even though it was super late and I’m sure he wanted to go to bed. We talked to the person who had taken my phone, trying to persuade him to return it for a reward. Instead, he kept asking us to give him the phone’s password (tempting, but no). He said that he already had a phone, and didn’t want to steal mine. Great, but not convincing, considering he took it two hours south of Bangkok. Shortly after talking to him, he disconnected the phone number he had called us on.
So it was gone, the phone was gone. The next morning, Chris, Etty (his girlfriend) and I went to the Fortune Town IT Mall at Rama 9 to look for a new iPhone. It was going to cost me a lot and no one took American Express. After realizing this was going to be a herculean task, we parted ways and I continued my hunt.
Fast forward 5 hours, and I was the owner of a terrible new $100 Samsung. The graphics were pixilated and the downloads were slow; I missed my iPhone so much that I could have gotten a tattoo of it’s serial number on my foot. Fortunately, my dad went to the AT&T store in Fresno, California and was able to get a replacement iPhone 5s for $99! Until it comes in the mail, I’ll be able to survive in my Android hell (first world problem alert).
I wanted to move to Bangkok for the challenge, but not the challenge of dealing with my own avoidable mistakes. One month under my belt in Thailand, and I had already gone through a slew of bad moves. At the end of the day, it could have been worse. No one got hurt – unless you count the hangover of the next day – and it’s just a phone (but who am I kidding, it’s 2014 and I’m addicted to technology).
Just another learning experience here in Bangkok.
Disclaimer: this is an insanely long post. TL;DR - Manila was stressful, but ok.
It was pouring rain when I arrived at the Ninoy Aquino International Airport on Saturday night. As soon as you step outside, people bombard you with overpriced taxi services, but you can get a metered taxi if you wait in a slow line. The majority of the cab ride to my hotel was spent sitting in choked traffic. When we arrived at my hotel, I gave the driver 500 Filipino Pesos and asked for change. He pretended to be confused by my multiple requests, so I gave up and overpaid resentfully. I ordered room service, checked my email, and went to sleep early. Living it up in Manila, heyooo!
To get a long-term Thai visa, you have to go through a complicated, stressful process. The country has a rule that applicants must submit the visa paperwork outside of Thailand, so I would be spending the next four days in the Philippines. I was nervous about the journey, still being without a debit card (THANK YOU WELLS FARGO). I didn’t want to take all of the cash I had to my name, so I packed money very modestly which would definitely be an issue later in the trip.
Many people had warned me that Manila was dangerous, so I was wary about leaving my room on Sunday (flashback to Bangkok day one!). Pressing through the (probably irrational) fear, I took a taxi to sightsee in the city’s historic area, Intramuros.
Driving to Intramuros, I had my first glimpse of the city in the daylight. I had never seen this sort of poverty in my life, and felt really terrible about holding an expensive iPhone. The closer we got to Intramuros, the more I started to worry. I had given the driver a very vague request and could only hope he would drop me off at the most tourist-infested spot.
I started freaking out when we passed through the gates of Intramuros. This wasn’t Disneyland, this was definitely still Manila. Stores made out of sheet metal crammed together selling soda and cigarettes. Rusted bike taxis lined the streets, their drivers waiting idly for customers. I didn’t see many tourists and was starting to panic at the idea of getting dropped off to fend for myself. We pulled up to the Manila Cathedral, Intramuros’ shining star, and I got out of the cab.
Before my eyes could adjust to the piercing sun, hawkers and beggars began to crowd me. Yelling “Hello, ma’am!” they tried to get me to buy things or donate money. Most were men, but there were also girls around six years old begging, a heartbreaking sight. The barrage of requests mixed with my unease put me over the edge. I was the closest I’ve ever been to having a panic attack. Nearly hyperventilating, I stepped into the church and felt an immense relief. No vendors or homeless, just a bunch of tourists taking photos with their iPads.
I wanted to hide out in the church the rest of the day, but didn’t want to give up so easily. I couldn’t travel all the way to Manila and give the experience a half-hearted effort. I walked back out into the street and followed a group of Asian girls way too closely. Doing a horrible job of being subtle, I was soon discovered and they stopped, assuming I wanted to pass them. I smiled and went ahead of them into the abyss of Intramuros, clenching my jaw in fear.
I tried to relax and thought to myself: Be cool! Act like you’re not about to cry! I ducked into a souvenir shop and calmed down again. The cashier gave me a recommendation for lunch and a sightseeing spot. Feeling better, I bought some post cards and went to Barbara’s restaurant.
It’s probably a good rule to avoid lukewarm seafood paella, but I’m a fan of breaking the rules! Kidding of course, but I did eat the cold buffet paella at Barbara’s (and lived to tell the tale). Bonus: there was a spanish guitar quartet playing live throughout the meal. I though the singer sounded a lot like Elvis, and lo and behold, he played Elvis’ I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You. Side note: that song is 100% more awesome performed by a Spanish guitar quartet.
Post paella, I went to Fort Santiago where I paid an entrance fee to tour the historic site. You would never guess you were in the Philippines if not for the Filipino security guards pacing the area.
After sightseeing, it was time for another taxi back to Makati. I’m pretty sure every taxi I took had a different meter pace, and will never be sure which one was fair. I walked around empty Makati (people stay at home with family on Sundays) and went to the Shangri La Hotel for dinner where I knew they would take American Express.
At the Shangri La, I went to the hotel’s (totally empty) bar and Tapas lounge, Sage, where I ordered a cliché tiki drink. The food was good, but my body has been very sensitive since moving to Southeast Asia. I become overwhelmed with nausea from time to time without ever getting sick, which is confusing and unpleasant. This sensation often comes up when eating seafood, so I ate my ceviche very slowly hoping to avoid throwing up at the luxury hotel. After dinner, it was back to my hotel where I slept for 10 hours.
On Monday, I arrived at the Thai Embassy at 9:45 am surprised to find only one other person there. I walked up to the window happily and handed the teller my documents. She started to scowl and ask rapid fire questions. On the airplane, a Filipino woman had warned me that the embassy workers would be tough, and that advice gave me the courage to stand my ground. After she interrogated me, she told me that I was missing documents. I asked a round of useless questions until she finally offered the option of emailing her the missing papers.
I left the embassy feeling very panicked. I had no desire to stay in Manila longer than necessary, and set to getting the missing documents from my work. I walked to Greenbelt Mall and found a cafe to work from. I ordered a painfully sweet iced tea and figured out how to get what I needed from the team back in Bangkok.
I had a Facebook notification – new friend request! Who could it be? Oh, just the security guard from the embassy. Needless to say, I did not accept the request, although I’m sure he’s a perfectly nice guy.
I emailed the missing documents back to the embassy and immediately received a message that my email bounced back. With 15 minutes before the office closed, I literally sprinted through the Makati streets back to embassy. In Manila, taxis honk at pedestrians in hopes of getting business. They honk incessantly if you’re running like a maniac who definitely needs a ride. I ignored them and ran in the 86 degree heat until I found the embassy with minutes to spare.
At the empty embassy, the teller said that the email address I used was wrong (even though I double checked when she gave it to me) and handed me the correct version. I went to a cafe for WiFi and ordered an even sweeter iced tea. Someone tell me what idiot keeps ordering iced teas when they hate them every time? I sent the email (then confirmed it was received) and could only wait until Wednesday afternoon to see if my visa application would be approved.
I spent the majority of my time in Manila at the Museum Cafe in Greenbelt 4 where the food was good and the service was friendly. In between periods of piercing sunshine, raging thunderstorms brought down insane amounts of rain. The thunder was so loud that it hurt your ears. Security guards carried giant guns while daintily holding umbrellas to stay dry.
Being a food-focused tourist, I was excited to try Filipino food. A Shangri La valet attendant recommended his favorite place, Fely J’s, to get a taste of the culture. I ordered Ginataang Nangka at Lamang Dagat, a jackfruit and seafood dish cooked with coconut milk. When the server placed it in front of me, I was taken back and had to ask if it was the dish I ordered. The dish before me looked 100% like a big plate of stewed meat.
After he assured me it was the jackfruit / seafood mashup, I still was freaked out. Not knowing what jackfruit even looked like, I Googled it to see if it resembles a corned beef.
The results were a bunch of shredded pork-looking pictures, so I accepted the meal as jackfruit and gobbled it up. It was delicious, albeit concerning.
At my hotel, I tried a Filipino breakfast of eggs, milk fish, and garlic rice. Do not ask me what milk fish is, but I had yet another bout of nausea eating it. I fought the reflex and tried my best to eat as the wait staff smiled attentively at me. I need to get over trying so hard not to offend people; it’s probably not going to kill anyone if I just say “this isn’t for me.”
Days glued to my laptop gave way to nights searching for ways to pass the time. I can’t tell you where local Filipinos hang out, but I can recommend some good luxury hotel bars in Makati. On Monday night, I tried the Fairmont Hotel’s Long Bar where a 70 year old Japanese man tried to buy me drinks. On Tuesday night, I met up with new Israeli friends at the Peninsula’s smokey cigar bar, aptly named The Bar. In the massive lobby, complete with live orchestra, I made a mental note to one day earn enough money to casually stay at Peninsulas around the world.
One bar had a chalkboard in the bathroom, so I obviously threw my home state a shoutout.
On Wednesday, I checked out of my hotel and anxiously waited at the ol’ Museum Cafe for 3 pm to roll around. Would my visa application be approved? Would I rot in Manila for the rest of my life? These questions ran through my head as time crawled by. Even though the city was starting to grow on me, I was homesick for Bangkok.
At 2:50 pm, I walked in the gloomy drizzle to the embassy as people on the street stared at me. There aren’t a lot of white women here, and I stick out no matter how subtly I creep around. Side note: if you need a confidence boost, head on over to the Philippines where people are very up front with compliments! You will get a “Hello beautiful lady!” every few blocks, which makes for great self-esteem. Even women will throw out unwarranted compliments while you’re standing in line!
There were more people at the embassy when I arrived, but it only took about 10 minutes for my turn. The teller gruffly gave me my passport without any heads up on whether or not the visa had been approved. I flipped open the booklet to find that
I almost cried when I left the embassy. I had my visa! I could go home! So much happy! Having only been in Thailand for about three weeks, I almost felt like I had moved to Manila for all the time spent there. I went to Mondo Juice to work and wait to head for the airport.
My parents swooped in for another win by wiring me some money, as I was running dangerously low on my cash supply. After my visa win, I still had to pick up the money before the Western Union closed. I looked up the bank on my phone and had time to make it before closing. Got to the bank and had looked at the hours for the wrong day – the bank was closed! Thirty minutes of power walking around Makati, I finally found an open Western Union and got the money (dripping in sweat, of course). If my parents hadn’t sent the money, I wouldn’t be able to take a taxi to the airport or paid the surprise 550 Filipino pesos it cost to leave the country. THANK YOU PARENTS FOR SAVING ME YET AGAIN!
Another traffic jammed ride to the airport and my time in Manila was coming to a close. I ate a delicious vegetable noodle soup at a place called Kaishu near my gate and felt a pang of sadness to leave.
Manila may not have been my favorite place in the world, but the more time I spent there the more I fond of it I became. The people are welcoming, kind, and helpful. I’d have to come back again and get out of the urban jungle and see the islands.
I didn’t have to be as scared as I was when I arrived, and should remember that going forward with my travels. People keep referring to my worries as “so American” and maybe being raised on Fox News wasn’t so great for my trust in strangers. The move to Asia, one big learning experience after another.
It’s been about two and a half weeks since I moved to Bangkok, so I still have a free pass to do cliché, touristy things. And touristy things I have done! Haley and Amber (the friends I flew over here with) ended their jaunt through Cambodia, Vietnam, and Thailand with a visit to Bangkok. First item on the agenda: take them to a rooftop bar.
We headed to just the place after eating at a tourist-focused restaurant near Cheap Charlie’s. At Above 11, a bar on the 3oth-something floor of the Fraser Suites, we met up with my coworker and his group. The view was fantastic, and we had a great time hearing about their travels and swapping culture shock moments. Also great: the wild maze (literally, a hedge maze) leading to the bathroom.
After work the following day, Haley and I intended to find a night market in Chinatown for street food. Instead, we ended up stopping at the night flower market on accident, a very sweet-smelling accident. We walked around and ate some fried street snacks before stopping at a food stall as it started to rain. Although we wanted the most touristy dish on the planet (Pad Thai, of course), we settled for for mixed vegetables and rice (and giant beers).
After the meal, we took a tuk tuk to meet up with a new friend Jeff, a British expat fluent in Thai. He suggested Khao San Road, aka “the center of the backpacker universe” and I was excited to go and see the infamous area. You couldn’t take a photo without three plastered tourists attempting to photobomb your moment. Instead of a bucket of cocktails, Haley and I had fresh coconut ice cream served brilliantly in a coconut.
We fought through the hoards of drunk tourists and pushy vendors until we found Jeff. A few minutes of weaving our way through the neighborhood, we settled into a bar away from the chaos of the main road. We learned a lot from Jeff, who is expertly versed in the Thai language and culture. The night was great, even after being swarmed by the laughing gas salesmen of Khao San Road. Another item checked off of a standard Bangkok bucket list.
On Thursday, Haley met me after work for a Vietnamese dinner with my coworkers. I didn’t realize that the Vietnamese did flan, you learn something new every day! As tourists do, we walked to the Patpong night market after dinner. The red light district is not necessarily my favorite place to go, but we wanted to see a night market and the one at Patpong was nearby. It had the usual suspects: elephant-print clothing, ping pong show hawkers, and bizarre trinkets that you would truly never need (I’m looking at you, Coca-Cola clock). We spied a tattoo parlor and I decided to go for it, having thought about the idea of getting another tattoo for a few days. Thai culture seems to have a soft spot for tattoos, and “When in Rome” seemed like an easy justification for a bad idea.
I walked up to Billy’s Studio (billystattoo@hotmail.com for any interested takers) and grilled the men about the cleanliness of their needles. Feeling convinced that the transaction would be clean (although still ridiculous), I went in and sat on the black leather bench and showed the men what I wanted. Feeling nostalgic for San Francisco, I went with the coordinates of the city I left just two weeks ago.
The tattoo artist turned on Pitbull to accompany the experience, but he motioned for us to pick the music from YouTube ourselves. DJ Haley took requests and played some favorites to ease the pain. The playlist included, but wasn’t limited to:
STRKFKR – When I’m Alive
STRKFKR – Girls Just Want to Have Fun (obviously)
Santigold– Pirate In The Water
Little Dragon – Shuffle A Dream
When it was over, I looked down at my new, permanent addition to my body. It sort of looked like a prison-esque tattoo which was definitely not my intention. I probably should have thought a little more about what exact coordinates of San Francisco I would like to see forever, instead of an apartment building for the homeless in the Tenderloin. When making forever decisions, maybe throw some thought into it – or not. I paid my 1,000 baht ($30) and left.
Haley and I walked around a bit more before finding some street mango and sticky rice being prepared with the utmost care by an old Thai woman. We waited patiently as she carved our favorite Thai dessert, then ate it on the side of the road. We watched people walk by, passing the lined up prostitutes waiting for customers. The sheer volume of sex workers in Bangkok is mind-blowing. We left feeling sad and full.
Haley packed up her belongings and e-checked into her flight for Bali. It was great to have her and Amber as houseguests, even if it was just for a short period of time. After her Indonesian getaway, Haley will be moving to Chiang Mai to do an epic internship, and I can’t wait to visit as often as possible.
I doubt this week will be the end of my cliché activities in Thailand, but it was nice to get some of the most touristy things out of the way early. Up next: ride an elephant while eating Pad Thai.
Bangkok is a gateway for travel throughout Southeast Asia. You can go to endless places (often cheaply) from the city’s airports, train stations, and bus depots. I want to take advantage of that as much as possible while I live here, with a special emphasis on train travel.
My first trip out of Bangkok started with a 100 baht, or $3.08 USD motorcycle taxi ride to the Hua Lamphong Railway Station. Since becoming accustomed to motorcycle taxi etiquitte, I realize that my first few rides in the city must have horrified the driver. Instead of gracefully balancing on the back of the bike holding onto the seat as Thais do, I molested the first two or three Thai men by squeezing their waists intimately. Oops!
When I got to the train station, I had no idea where I wanted to go. I knew that I wanted to go somewhere with a beach, and that I didn’t want to go anywhere 12 hours away. The clerk at the information desk suggested Hua Hin, a quick four hour ride. A coworker had recommended the seaside town, so I bought a third class ticket for just 94 baht, $2.90.
I packed light and overdressed for the trip. I shoved a change of clothes, a book, and some toiletries in my work purse. Being a solo female traveler, I wanted to make sure I did the trip as safely as possible. No laptop, briefcases full of cash, etc. My thought process for the overdressing was that if I looked as far from a backpacker as possible, people might treat me less like a backpacker (take advantage of me, price gouge, murder, etc.). It was also by default because I brought about 90% work appropriate clothing to Thailand, so casual isn’t really my go-to.
I got on the train and walked back and forth like a crazy person a few times before finding my seat, 57A. I lunged toward the window as I had already begun to sweat intensely. The heat was alive and well, and I needed the air condition-free train to start moving ASAP before I drowned in a pool of my own sweat. A woman and her daughter dressed in hijabs were my seat buddies, and I couldn’t stop thinking “HOW HOT ARE YOU IN THAT HIJAB AND FULL LENGTH GOWN?!”
We started to leave the station and I braced myself for the life-saving breeze that was sure to come. We began to pick up speed and then stopped picking up speed, holding a very mediocre pace. The wind in my hair I dreamed of was more of a slight puff, and I would continue to pour sweat the rest of the journey, using my spare shirt as a sweat rag.
I was the only farang (foreigner, usually white) on the train and felt out of place. I was clearly having a hard time with the sweating, and my traveling companions were kind to me. Despite the language barrier, the woman and her daughter offered me snacks like pork (which I couldn’t eat) and boiled peanuts (which I could and did) throughout the journey.
My heart seized up when the woman THREW HER STYROFOAM TRASH OUT OF THE TRAIN WINDOW! Coming from San Francisco where environmental awareness is king, I was blown away by the blasé act. WHY ARE YOU LITTERING IN YOUR BEAUTIFUL COUNTRYSIDE?! It’s hard not to be culturally insensitive/ethnocentric during such events when the behavior seems so wrong. I have to remember that this isn’t my country- I have to cool my jets and accept things the way they are.
Although the woman at the train station said Hua Hin was a quick four hours away, the trip ended up being six and a half hours of sweat, snacks, and culture shock. I arrived at sunset and walked through the town known to be loved by Thailand’s royal family. Being on the water, there was seafood galore in the restaurants and food stalls.
I had a delicious seafood stir fry dinner and went hunting for a fun bar to grab a beer. My goal was to find fellow travelers or expats to chat with about life in Thailand, what’s up in Hua Hin, what the hell is going on with all of the styrofoam, etc.
September is not a particularly booming time for tourism in Thailand, but the demographic that travels year round are the sexpats, tourists who visit Thailand (or move here) for the prostitutes. While most of the bars in Hua Hin were empty save a few Thai women, there was at least one or two old white men pawing at the beautiful locals selling their services. It was a depressing place for a lonely American girl to wander. I walked around for hours in search of a place with younger patrons, but had no luck. I gave up and had a beer at a nearly empty restaurant before taking a 15 minute truck taxi to my hotel.
In the morning, I woke up reenergized and ready to enjoy Hua Hin’s shining feature- the beach! The hotel offered a shuttle to a nearby beach and I took advantage of the ride at 8 am. I didn’t want my phone stolen while I was frolicking in the sea, so I left it back in my room, taking only a book and towel. The hotel shuttle promised to pick me up in an hour and dropped me off at the beach. I stepped onto the sand and was overwhelmed by the smell of dead fish and trash coming from the dead fish and trash strewn about the near-empty beach. Great!
I shook off the initial disappointment and decided to spend my time in the ocean and waded in, delighted to be in the water. The water too smelled like trash, but I didn’t mind. Another blow to my enthusiasm came when I noticed fat jellyfish floating around my legs. I bolted out of the water dejected and decided to read on my towel in the sun.
Not two minutes later, I heard a noise and looked up. A man was masturbating aggressively staring at me 50 ft away. I looked down instantly and panicked. What the f was I supposed to do? He started to yell noises at me to get my attention, and I realized that I was the only person on the beach. Alone, scared, confused, and grossed out, I put my clothes back on as quickly as possible and power walked down the road I came from. I wanted to run, but the packs of stray dogs have been known to attack people and I didn’t want to get their attention by flailing through their territory.
Fortunately, the man did not follow me down the road and I made it back to my hotel safely. I couldn’t report the incident to the hotel because the thought of explaining the scene with the language barrier seemed insane. I huddled up by my hotel pool and felt very weird about the whole experience. A night of sad sex tourism on display and a day of indecent exposure was not what I had intended for my weekend getaway.
I ended up taking an overpriced taxi back to town after a lackluster breakfast at the hotel. The thought of riding back on the train for six and a half hours after the let down was not enticing, so I took an air conditioned van back to Bangkok. It was very uncomfortable, but only took three hours and got me back in time for a late lunch with friends in the city.
While I enjoyed the experience of train traveling alone, Hua Hin was not my favorite and I don’t think I will be going back any time soon. Fingers crossed for a better adventure next time!
A quick list of random things I’ve learned or noticed:
It’s been a week and a half of living in this insane, inviting, confusing city. I have been annoying a coworker by constantly bringing up the fact that we’re living and working in BANGKOK. It has yet to stop blowing my mind. Work has been great, I really like my coworkers and they seem to like me. It has been an interesting transition to working at a startup, but a fun one.
Every day we go somewhere new for lunch, and not knowing anything about the area we work in, it’s always a new experience for me. Today, for example, we went to a Vietnamese place and I had sadly bland (due to the whole vegetarian broth thing) pho. I was still so stoked to be eating pho in Bangkok, where I live and WORK. Not sure when that unbridled enthusiasm will wear off.
I still haven’t set up Wi-Fi at my apartment, so I still feel a little disconnected despite being very connected. This connection is thanks to the 9 million free chatting apps I’ve downloaded. What’s App works with family back at home. Line is preferred by a lot of Thais. If you’re talking to someone in China, WeChat is the way to go. Download them and get wonderfully bizarre messages like:
It’s almost the weekend, and I don’t know what I’m going to do with it yet. I’m considering taking a train trip somewhere, on the condition that said train is cheap and has a nice view. Who knows? What I do know is that Bangkok is awesome and scary and great. I am so thrilled to be here!
I survived my first week in chaotic Bangkok despite the initial trials and tribulations! On Friday, I officially moved all of my belongings (a suitcase and a carry on bag) into my apartment and took the crowded BTS train to work.
I learned many valuable (and frightening) insider tips on Thailand life from my coworkers including:
After work, a group of us went out to a bar for happy hour, then to the street for dinner for my first proper street food meal. We had sea bass in lemon sauce, Tom Kha soup, rice (with unintentional bugs in it of course), and beer. Arroy (delicious).
We went to Patpong Road, a red light district, and played pool at a dive bar uncharacteristic of the neighborhood. I cringed as we walked by drunken expats grabbing at Thai women, again not something I’m used to. Pool was fun, despite us being terrible at the game.
Hungover the next day, I woke up and started my mission of buying things for my apartment. I decided to explore my neighborhood a bit and walked around in the intense heat. It was fun walking through the narrow bazaars. If you ever need sunglasses (that I bought and broke almost immediately), contacts that make your eyes look huge, or Hello Kitty backpacks, I know just the place.
I ended up by the river and took a ferry across to Chinatown. It should be noted that this was a complete accident. I thought I would be heading on a nice little river cruise to some other stop. Instead, the boat shuffled to the other side of the river. The ride was over in 3 minutes.
Chinatown was great, albeit stiflingly hot. I walked through what seemed to be a silver hawking district, then an area full of custom tailors. Sprinkled throughout Bangkok are beautiful Wats (temples) that stop you in your tracks, even when they are in the middle of horribly ugly parking lots.
I stopped at the Bangrak Bazaar and ate at an indoor food court filled with stalls and lacking air conditioning. I ordered stir-fried morning glory and rice, and sweat poured down my face as I ate the fantastic meal.
I stopped into a mall to cool off, and went to the restroom to freshen up. In the mirror, I found that after sweating all day and wiping my face with a paper towel, little bits of paper towel had flaked off all over my face. My face was covered in shreds of paper towel. I had been shopping, smiling at people, ordering food looking like a paper mache psycho. Reason #475 you need to have friends.
I cleaned the paper towel graveyard off of my face and went back into the hot world. Fortunately, I ran into a man who made spare keys on the street. He crafted two spare keys for my apartment while his sweet friend watched and gave me his chair. It was one of the most awesome things I’ve ever seen. The men were about 75 years old and still doing their thing in the sweltering heat. I snuck a picture because I wanted to remember them forever, but it’s also super weird to take photos of people without asking, so I mainly got the keys.
With spare keys made and a full belly, I went to the Big C Supercenter, which is essentially a Target/KMart mix by the Chidlom BTS station. I was ushered to the top floor to look for all of my home ware needs. I picked up sheets, hangers, towels, etc., but couldn’t find any normal laundry detergent. Without stopping to think, “Hey, I bet they have more things on other floors!” I decided to buy baby laundry detergent. For the next few months, I am going to straight up smell like a little ol’ baby. Maybe this will be a good friend-making tactic. Maybe people will just think I’m a mother. Only time will tell!
I got home with what seemed like 10,000 plastic bags (cringe) and went to hanging up clothes and making my bed. SURPRISE! I bought the wrong size bed sheet. That’s right, sheet (singular). In addition to assuming the bed was queen sized, I didn’t read the f-ing package and bought one single fitted sheet. Double fail. Now I have one single fitted sheet that I will use as a weird blanket I guess.
My apartment has a washing machine IN THE KITCHEN and so I washed my new towels to get them baby-fresh clean. My wet laundry has one of the best views laundry could have! My wet laundry doesn’t even know how good it has it.
That evening, I went to a coworker’s house for dinner and had delicious fish Bánh Mi and other Vietnamese treats from a nearby restaurant. So good! Went back to the 31st floor of the Villa Sathorn and flopped into bed exhausted from another full day of shopping, sweating, and eating.
On Sunday, I was determined to remedy my sheet disaster and planned to go to the Big C again. My building has a little coffee shop in the lobby where I’ve eaten something called Thai Toast two days in a row. It’s essentially white bread toasted with condensed milk sugar sauce drizzled on top. Nothing to complain about there, other than the impending diabetes.
Another BTS ride and I was back by the Big C. I walked around a bit first and took in the sights. I went to the Siam Center and thought about going to Siam Ocean, the aquarium. It wasn’t very cheap, so I stood around the aquarium lobby because I am a creep.
Back at the Big C, I beelined for the bedding section. After finding sheets that I hoped would fit, I went to the grocery floor and was very lost immediately. I wandered the aisles for a long time just staring at all of the things you would never find in America.
Got the sheets, sent my first letter (it hasn’t been easy finding stamps, and UPS charged a pretty damn lot to send one letter), and got a foot massage. Back in the heat, I wandered through the food market outside of the Siam Center. I picked up a taro dough thing that was really great. I wish that I would have bought more for my apartment, or just my mouth right then.
The weekend ended with this blog post, written at Glur Bangkok, a hostel and coffee bar that could be in any hip neighborhood of any hip city in America. Vintage decorations, slow drip coffee, Edison lights, etc. The only thing that detracts from the cool factor is the music selection. Think Glee-like knock offs of American Top 40 and a lot of Michael Bublé. Still without WiFi at my apartment, I have to come to places like this to use my laptop when my building’s coffee shop closes. Not really complaining, as it gets me out and in the world.
And with that, a week goes by in Bangkok. How did that happen? How am I a resident of Thailand with a Thai cell phone number and a decent handle on the BTS system? After the beating of the first few days, Bangkok has eased up on me and things are looking sunny (maybe a little too sunny – it was 95 degrees today).
Next up: keep making friends and eating new things.
Moving is stressful, traveling abroad is stressful, starting a new job is stressful. Do all of those at the same time, throw in some jet lag, and voila! Your cup will floweth over with stress. Days three and four of this epic journey were not what you would call graceful.
Wednesday started out great! I left my apartment well rested and ready to tackle apartment hunting. I got to an intersection near my hotel to find a motorcycle taxi driver waving at me. MY MOTORCYCLE TAXI DRIVER REMEMBERED ME FROM OUR RE/MAX ADVENTURE THE DAY BEFORE! My heart leapt. Someone remembered me in Bangkok! I had read an article on culture shock prevention, and seeing familiar faces is one way to stave away said shock.
I didn’t need a ride, but I asked him in Thai how his day was. He seemed enthused, and replied happily. I was elated, and practically trotted to the BTS station. I got off at the stop where I was meeting Siri, my great realtor, and stopped to eat street food before our appointment. Thinking I had ordered vegetarian noodle soup (for breakfast), I was bummed when a pork noodle soup was served to me at the food stall. My Thai is not good enough to try and remedy the situation, so I did what any terrible pescetarian would do and ate around the sliced pig.
The meal was great, and only $1 or $2. It was a win in my book despite the whole “I just basically ate meat” thing. After probably offending the shop owner for not eating the most expensive part of the soup, I went to meet Siri and her colleague (who was super nice and I cannot remember her name for the life of me). We hopped in a cab to look at apartments nearby. I guessed we would look at sleek, modern apartments and I guessed wrong.
The first apartment was in a rag tag building very close to work, which is an expensive area. I literally stepped over a dead cockroach entering the room. Stained furniture, low ceilings and bad lighting were standout features. I tried to stay positive and forced a smile as I took photos of the place. A mantra of “F****ing never in my life” ran through my head as scanned the room for the bright side. Even though it was in my budget and extremely close to work, I had to pass on the place. She showed me an equally enticing apartment in the same building that did not sway me to reconsider.
We went on to the second apartment, a high rise building also within blocks of my work. Nearby minimarts, restaurants, laundry services and salons were promising features. Then we took the elevator upstairs. The (blurry) photo below was taken on the way to the room, not in a hospital.
I tried my hardest to keep smiling as I paced around the room. Hellish would be the wrong word, but depressing would be a very right one. I could 100% never, ever live here. I was starting to question what the f my realtor was thinking when she decided to bring me to these dungeons. Was she trying to manage my expectations? She was doing a great job of that.
The next property was still close to work. Our taxi driver couldn’t take us down the building’s street because the road was too narrow. We had to trek down the eerily quiet path to an old, old blue building with a barking, mangey, tiny dog.
While we waited for the building owner to unlock the gate, I asked the realtor, “is it safe to do this walk at night?” She immediately told me that no, it was not safe to do this walk at night. You should definitely not do this walk at night. We decided not go into the decaying building and went on to the next showing (which I assumed was going to be a smashing hit considering what I’d seen thus far).
We looked at two more places that turned out to be much nicer, but I caved and said I’d raise my budget a bit. She had to run back to her office to get in touch with different property owners, so I went to lunch at a mall. [FYI, eating at malls is not like it is in the US. Mall eating in Thailand happens to be great!] After eating a half good / half bizarre meal of MORE SHRIMP, I had a heart-stopping realization.
I. Lost. My. Debit. Card.
I tore through all of my belongings. I tore through them again. I tore through them a third time. It was gone. I thought back to the day and realized that I either left it in an ATM or dropped it. Either way, I felt so stupid and started to panic. My mind went to what it would mean to lose a debit card in Bangkok.
I am going to have to cancel the card before someone uses it / oh god what if someone has already used it / literally all of my money is in that account / what will I do if they used it all / wait I only have an American Express and no one takes American Express so how will I get any money / oh f I only have 300 Thai baht what is that going to get me / holy shit I have to pay cash to get an apartment / holy shit I can’t get an apartment / I am going to have to keep blowing money on hotels and I am going to run out of savings and be in debt in Bangkok / How did I let this happen / It is going to take so long for Wells Fargo to send the replacement card to an address I don’t even have yet in THAILAND / HOW COULD YOU LOSE YOUR DEBIT CARD ON YOUR THIRD DAY.
I got up from the table and power walked to the only semi-private corner of the mall near the bathrooms. I emptied out my purse and wallet again to be sure the card was gone. It was definitely gone. I crouched into the nook and got out my Thai cell phone, my iPhone and my Wells Fargo American Express card (to which I do not have the pin, so no cash advance opportunities there). I tried calling the international number via my Thai phone and I could not get through. I was in such a panic that I was not dialing the + sign, so that was probably my issue. I lost the semblance of cool that I had and started to cry as I turned on my US cellular (read $$$$$$$$$$$) and called my parents. After telling them that they needed to help me cancel my debit card immediately, I started to sob like the saddest baby there ever was. In hindsight, the crying was probably more cathartic than anything. There was no way that I would be totally without food or shelter, but I couldn’t see that at the time.
My parents would help me by loaning me money through Western Union, and things were going to be ok. I stood up and went to the bathroom to clean up. I pitied my puffy, red-faced reflection. I felt weak (mentally) and tired (physically). How could I do something so careless and easily avoidable the THIRD DAY in Bangkok?
I went to look at the other apartments with Siri after returning to my hotel first to try and figure out my financial life. I was wonderfully relieved when she showed me a fantastic place with a breathtaking view. I had found a home on the 31st floor of the Villa Sathorn. HALLELUJAH! We agreed to meet the next morning for me to sign the lease, pay the landlord, and get the keys to my apartment.
Exhausted from all of the happy and sad of the day, I had no intention of officially moving into my apartment. Instead, I booked another night at my hotel, ordered room service and ate it in bed.
At 6 am, I woke up at the hotel and realized I had a ton of things to do before my first day of work. I had to order a new debit card, get to Western Union to pick up the money order, get to my apartment, sign the lease, and get to work by 10 am. This was doable until I discovered Western Union didn’t open until 8:30 am. I panicked and had to tell my new job I would be late (on my first day), but hoped they’d understand given the circumstances.
First up: call Wells Fargo. I was delighted to revisit my stupidity on the phone. “Are you sure you lost the card?” Yes. “Where did you leave the card?” I DON’T KNOW, I CAN’T BELIEVE I LOST IT IN THE FIRST PLACE. PLEASE END THIS SALTING OF MY WOUNDS! My debit card replacement was scheduled to arrive in 5-10 business days (although I don’t think international travel time was factored into that generic estimate).
I was 100% ready to quit everything and move back to California, although I knew that I would never actually go through with giving up that easily. I felt the same way during my first week in San Francisco. It’s natural for me to want to capitulate from the get go. Things will get better, and I know that.
I checked out of the hotel, went to the bank for the money order, and took a motorcycle taxi to the BTS station. Everything was looking up thanks to the clutch financial save from my parents. I met Siri the realtor at the Villa Sathorn and became an official renter of property in Bangkok, and the property had a pool!
Back on the BTS, I made my way to my first day at work. I couldn’t believe that I would be working at a job in my field abroad. I paused to stare at the building before I went in. It was a great feeling.
Everyone was extremely welcoming and I had a great feeling about the new position. I’ll have to get used to the heat outside, but I think things are going to be wonderful in Bangkok.
After work, I was too tired to go through with shopping for bed sheets, towels, and other household necessities to move in. I checked in yet again to the Hotel Icon Bangkok after another mall meal.
Back at the hotel, writing this blog post helped me put the experiences into perspective. Nothing that bad has happened to me. Some milestones have been hit, and things are trending positively. I made this move explicitly for the challenge, and I have to keep remembering that. The entire point of this experience was to get through the rough transition. I can’t keep getting so upset so easily.
I have eaten delicious food, encountered wonderful people, and reached major goals. Time to shake off the minor upsets and dive into the exciting new obstacles ahead.
How is this real? I woke up a few times in the night, but made the official decision to stop sleeping at 9 am. I couldn’t believe that I was not only alone in a hotel in Thailand, but starting a life here. HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?!
I spent the morning scourging the Internet for apartments. There were a lot of great ones in my price range, but I decided it may be better to go to a real estate office in person. At noon, I hit the streets anxiously and thought I would try getting to the Re/Max real estate office on my own. I had looked up directions ahead of time, and headed for the BTS station to start the adventure. I proudly got off the train and at street level, I thought I would reward myself with lunch. I had green curry and shrimp, as that is one of the only things I know how to say.
After lunch, I went back to the street and walked toward my destination. Weird, that McDonald’s looks super familiar. Maybe they all look exactly the same? NOPE. I had made a loop back to my hotel’s street. Extremely flustered and without WiFi, I decided I needed someone to just take me to my destination. It took me a solid 10 minutes before I had the courage to approach a motorcycle taxi and ask for a ride. At the time, I didn’t know that Thai people only take motorcycle taxis for very short distances. They automatically charge more for idiot tourists who don’t know that, so I paid him a good 3x the going rate.
We got to the address and my heart sunk. It was massage parlor with giant lips on the sign that I was 100% sure was not Re/Max. I showed him the address again, and he motioned for me to call the phone number on the ad. He graciously waited as I called and sweat in the street. An American man told me that the office had moved. I wanted to crumple up and disappear.
The American gave me directions and I scribbled them down in my notebook. I told my driver where to go in broken Thai. He didn’t turn when I wanted him to, so I panicked and asked him to turn around and go back to “Lao Sai,” or turn left. He did, and we ended up going down another street I thought seemed wrong. Why the f am I giving anyone directions? I have no idea where I am! We came to a slow stop and we brokenly communicated. I didn’t want to waste his time, so I got off the motorcycle and tried to thank him and go it alone (or give up and cry). He asked a few people around him about the address, and urged me to call the Re/Max number again. On the phone with the agent, I realized that we were just a few buildings away! I almost leapt for joy and thanked the driver excessively.
Being one million degrees here, I was sweating pretty heavily when I walked into the Re/Max office. The agent, Siri, looked very concerned and asked me if I was okay. She power walked to get me some filtered water, and seemed genuinely worried as she turned up the air conditioning. I tried to laugh it off and vowed to get used to the tropical heat ASAP. We talked budget, location, other wish list items and made a plan to meet the next day to look at available condos.
After fulfilling my main task for the day, I realized I had nothing else planned to do. I had developed about 10 blisters from all of the walking I had done in the first 48 hours. As someone sans thigh gap, I was getting a pretty intense leg chafe and was cringing with each step. Despite not wanting to spend a lot of time walking around in pain, I chose to head to a cool neighborhood and walk around.
I had read that the neighborhood Ari was essentially the Brooklyn or Hayes Valley of Bangkok, so I got back on the BTS to explore. Almost immediately after I got off the train, it started pouring rain. I ducked under a plumeria tree until I decided to wait out the storm with a foot massage. Second massage in less than 48 hours… Only God can judge me!! The woman gave me some amazing shorts to change into that I may have worn backwards (unintentionally):
Coming from the California drought, I was blown away by the torrential downpour. You could have told me that this was a monsoon and I would have believed you. Post massage, the masseuse gave me hot tea and some dried fruit to snack on. I waited for the rain to stop and applied a thousand bandaids to my blistered feet. Two days of tromping through Bangkok had really ruined my barking dogs.
I walked into the drizzle and tried to find street food to eat. It’s a challenge to find street food as a pescetarian. Most of the stalls seem to serve pork and chicken. If a vendor does sell fish, it looks like it has been sitting out a while, and I have been so wildly paranoid about traveler’s diarrhea that I refuse to take that risk. Giving up on food, I kept walking around checking out the area. Ari had many similarities to the cool cities it was compared to online. There were a number of restaurants that could have been plucked out of San Francisco or New York that I’d love to visit for dinner (when I actually have friends here).
I got back on the BTS and headed home in case the rain started again. Like an idiot, I didn’t bring an umbrella out despite it being the rainy season. Back in my temporary neighborhood, I walked around looking for food. I turned down a busy street and found myself in the midst of many bustling bars. Signs advertised Buttery Nipple cocktails and I noticed that the white people were mainly single, white males. The bars were teeming with beautiful Thai women, and more lined the street. My chest tightened and I was instantly depressed when I realized that I was in some sort of red light area and that these were prostitutes. I kept walking down the street hoping to escape the sad reality and got out as quickly as possible. I know I will have to get used to seeing the sex tourism that goes on in Thailand, but it was hard to take in the first time around.
I ordered a Chang beer at a tourist-y pub called Bully and the bartender gave me some free popcorn. I happily gobbled up the popcorn, two beers and watched golf on mute for a good 30 minutes. After warily chatting with the two men in the airline business next to me, I beelined back to my hotel. I’m mandating a two beer limit whenever I’m alone to avoid the whole “lost drunk in a foreign country” thing. I cringed when I realized I had beer and popcorn for dinner. Americans, am I right?
Tomorrow marks a new day, hopefully one filled with apartment leasing and good food eating.
On Saturday, September 13, I left San Francisco to start a new chapter in Bangkok.
As I sat in the Manila airport on Monday morning after a 14 hour flight from SFO, it still didn’t seem like reality. Why would I leave a life I loved in California to be extremely uncomfortable in Southeast Asia?
With a five hour layover in Manila, things were off to a good start. The people were happy and friendly, and there was free WIFI. My friends Haley and Amber, who were off to Vietnam, were with me the first leg of the trip. We managed the 14 hour flight and enjoyed a coffee in Manila as they waited for their plane to take leave for Ho Chi Minh. When it was time for them to go, I just stood there in a stupor. This was it, I was about to be alone in Asia. I’ve never done anything epic alone, so the idea of literally flying solo was hard to take in. I took photos of them in a panic as they boarded their plane.
I paced the terminal and found myself in a 30 person line for the bathroom. I thought it was nice that they had a stall set aside for “Elderly Use Only” even though that meant the wait was wildly long. Using What’s App, I stressfully communicated with loved ones back in the USA until my 8:50 flight to Bangkok.
When I landed in Bangkok and went through customs, I logged into the airport’s free WIFI and opened HotelQuickly, the app I would be working for, to book my first hotel room. After booking a night at the Hotel Icon Bangkok, I found a metered taxi and headed for the city. My taxi driver may have been the least friendly person in Thailand, but I tried to stay happy despite the 24+ hours of total travel time. I spotted a billboard on the freeway that helped comfort me in my insane decision to move here:
“Opportunity has landed, welcome to Bangkok” was a comforting sight to see. Thirty minutes and less than $10 later, I was at the hotel where I was greeted with a sweet, violet-colored beverage and an iced cold towel. I checked into my room and was still in a general disbelief.
After so much travel time and reading up on the possible horrors that could happen to a single woman traveling, I was extremely paranoid to leave my room again. I had been so fixated on the idea that everyone was going to rob me, rip me off, or kidnap me that the thought of leaving my safe little abode was overwhelming. I showered and lingered for two hours before mustering up the willpower to go and buy a cell phone.
I took many wrong turns, went into many wrong buildings, but finally ended up at the TrueMove H store where I bought a prepaid phone for $20 from a man who spoke very little English. I kept finding that whenever I asked people (in Thai) if they speak English, they find it hilarious and usually laughed at me. So that’s great.
Overwhelmed and jetlagged, I went back to the BTS (the skytrain) and got off when I saw a sign for massage. I settled into a comfortable chair at the massage parlor and had one of the best foot massages of my existence. This could have been due to the roller coaster of emotions I had experienced over the past week, or just that the woman was a true genius. Either way, it was heaven. The cherry on top of the day was dinner: my first pad thai at a place called Lee’s near my hotel.
I walked back to my hotel and flopped into my bed. I continued to repeat “how is this real?” as I talked to family and friends online. The first day was under my belt.
natalie b. compton 
