A foreign country is a foreign country

I woke from strange dreams about hiding in a garden shed to find myself alone in a windowless hotel room in Bangkok. For such a place, it was remarkably well decorated; not a concrete oubliette, but a palatial king-size lair for a business traveller who enjoyed paying for wifi access and continental breakfasts.

Driven crazy by Bangkok

Arriving at Suvarbharmi airport this evening, I cruised through passport control and got outside, where a man offered to drive me to my hotel. I asked him how much and when he said a thousand baht, carried on walking to the taxi stand. If it cost 300 to get to the Lebua last time we visited, I didn’t think prices could have gone up that much in a month and a half.

Thais, frightening

I think Thais like frightening people. We saw this in many ways today. First, when we woke up, the headline of the newspaper was about an enormous sinkhole appearing in a road in Bangkok, capable of swallowing cars whole.

Second, when I got to the office (after a taxi driver drove me in a very mellow, yet utterly terrifying manner) everyone delighted in telling me that I should have left for the airport half an hour ago, because of the terrible traffic and the four hour lines to get through passport control.

Third, the hotel spent ten minutes looking for our luggage, or (probably) nine minutes looking like they were looking for our luggage, then one minute to trundle it over.

Fourth - ah, lucky fourth - was our taxi driver to the airport. He almost ran over a motorcycle as we pulled out from the hotel, and the drive to the airport, although uneventful, always seemed to be creeping towards disaster.

Confusion, Thai style

Today we saw the man who lied to us yesterday about the tourist boat, yelling at a tourist in a wheelchair. Then we went to Wat Pho, the temple of the reclining Buddha, had an argument with a taxi driver who didn't want to use the meter in his car, took a different taxi to the train station, got laughed at by a security guard, had a Swedish massage in a spa off Sukhumvit Road, an Italian meal in a Thai cafe, and then went back to our hotel.

A Bangkok Chronicle

Today I got up early, had a call with the office and then went for a run, which meant by 10 am I was no good to anyone, which meant my wife was a little disappointed that her weekend in Bangkok was going to be spent in our hotel room, listening to me snore and fart.

The Hangover (3)

We've flown to Bangkok and we're staying in a hotel whose proudest boast is that The Hangover 2 was set there. I've lots of misgivings about this. (And not just that The Hangover 2 is a terrible title - why didn't they have The Hangover: Electric Boogaloo, or Another Hangover, or Still Hungover, or were they saving those for the eventual sequels (Hungover and Furious 4, perhaps?)

Siam Ocean World

Siam Ocean World, in the basement of the Paragon shopping centre in Bangkok, isn't the greatest aquarium I've been to. It's not the worst, or the one with the least fish, but it feels like one of the most expensive, at 900 baht.

Fighting in the pancake trenches

It's strange that it's taken me so long to get back to Bangkok: something like two and a half years to drag myself onto a plane and fly to the City of Angels (and stuff).

Wrapped up warm for Bangkok

Sometimes I go to another country and it feels really foreign, like Chiang Mai at Songkran when everyone has gone mad and throws water at you. Other times it feels like I've travelled to the 1970s (Australia, rural Japan). But I never felt like I've travelled to the Antarctic before I went to Bangkok.