Sometimes, we do things that are bad for us. We’re not exactly sure why we do these things that cause us pain. But in some way, there’s pleasure in the pain, so we continue.
A 20-minute walk from my hotel is a weekend market significant enough to claim a spot of every tourist map of Bangkok I’ve seen.
“You can eat something and buy something,” the front desk agent told me.
I was expecting a Thai version of a farmers market – maybe a few booths. But if you took the Vail Farmers Market and multiplied it by 1,000, I still don’t think you’d be close to the size of the Chatuchak Weekend Market.
To call it a “market” is perhaps misleading. Chatuchak is more accurately described as a tent city of anything and everything you could possibly buy in Thailand. Need a Sunday roast and a platter to serve it on? It’s here. Light bulbs and a brass elephant? It’s here. Scissors and a new gown? It’s here. A larger than life bronze Buddha and a way to ship it back to Switzerland, Swaziland or Sri Lanka? Yup, it’s here.
This is the first week of what will be many months of living out of a backpack. I have neither the space nor the funds to indulge the shopaholic in me, which made Chatuchak exquisite, blissful TORTURE.
Like a moth to a flame, I’m drawn back to the place. Bing slightly more evolved than a moth, I know I must resist this temptation. It will be an ongoing battle.
A temptation I gladly submitted to, however, was a night on the town with Tiffany and Jesse, two teachers I met while living in South Korea, who have since relocated to Thailand. Tiff, her posse of gal pals and I started at the Hard Rock Café where I dove into an exorbitantly priced bowl of mac ‘n cheese and a mojito. Sometimes, a little taste of home is just worth it.
Meeting up with Jesse, we headed over to RCA where his crew had a farewell party well under way. RCA is a stretch of road lined with bars and clubs. You pay 200 baht (U.S. $6) to get into the party zone frequented by the rich and famous of young Thai society and all the farang (foreigner) drunks you can shake a stick at.
The classy, efficient and cost-effective way to do things is to get bottle service. A bottle of Stoli ran 1,000 baht (U.S. $30), and a bottle of whiskey was 2,000 baht (U.S. $60) at Route 66 Club where Jesse’s friends had staked out a large table flanked by plush leather couches and chairs.
The trick is to stick to the cheaper and, in my opinion, more palatable vodka and not open the bottle of whiskey the servers put on your table, because one you’ve popped the top, the bottle is yours. The rule gets harder to follow the drunker one gets, and we hadn’t been partying long before Blondie snapped the seal, and we all had to throw in for the booze none of us liked.Oh well.
Dispensing with the whiskey drama, we happily danced and drank into the early hours of the morning.
Check out my photo album, “Bangkok, City of Angels – Week 1” on my facebook page.
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