Two Thailands

Thailand, I hardly know ya.

Phuket was all yolky sun and aquamarine waters. Joe and I lounged on Kata Noi, the southernmost beach on the island.  On most days, we did nothing, which was quite a lot and left us tired.

Wake up. Stroll over to Preetam's resort. Drinks (with those little umbrellas) all around. Massage next to the pool. Lunch. Sleep on beach. Rolled over. Catch up on reading (for me, Catch-22). Catch tide: jump, boogie board, dive into waves. Call for the coconut vendor to come over. Snack. Watch the sun go down.

Shuffle, repeat.

Phuket at night is crazy. Not for me though (I'm a lightweight who can't hold more than four beers). I busied myself with theoretical research on metaphysical questions of right and wrong between cigars and ass-piss beers. Pree and Joe busied themselves with field research along the bars of Patong. I described this scene earlier, but walk along a street and girls girls girls. Girls call you in, they grab you and drag you in.  They get paid by 1) how many drinks you buy for yourself and 2) how many drinks you buy for them. The more expensive the drinks (e.g. tequila vs Chang beer), the more they make. They wink, blow kisses, smile, curtsy, flirt, dance, grind and use everything in their toolbox...

What happens in Phuket stays in Phuket. Especially around silver poles.

Good fun, anyways. Always good fun when your buddies danced bar-top and belted out Bohemian Rhapsody to end the night.

That was Phuket. We bounced between the daytime lethargy and the nocturnal activities for four days – and got utterly bored out of our wits. We saw Thailand at her most beguiling and postcard perfect side: the resort holiday, margarita-in-hand, sun-soaked weather side – of pretty smiles and pretty palms and pretty beaches. But what they don't tell you from those Corona commercials is that pretty soon, watching the days float by ain't all that interesting.

By the end, Joe and I got burnt out (well, Joe literally got burnt, that white bastard) from all the beach nirvana. We caught an 11pm flight back to Bangkok on our fourth night.

Ayutthaya, about 2 hours north of Bangkok, is a wildly different. The royal capital of Thailand before the Burmese razed it (multiple times), the town now boasts a small strip of malls (with the prerequisite McDonalds and 7-Elevens) and one of the most concentrated site for 13th - 17th century Khmer and Thai ruins. The sun shone in Ayutthaya just as bright as Phuket, but here, there were no waves, no drinks with little umbrellas, and definitely no girlies.  Instead, we got hot, humid, and scorching weather.

Joe and I rented bikes to ride around town. By 'ride' I mean hair-raising, silent screams for mercy – a understandable reaction to the heart dropping game of chicken and chase and avoidance between us and crazy tuk-tuks and trucks and tour buses who disregarded all civilized traffic laws. If I didn't have balls of steel...

By the end of the day, we were sweaty, grimy and Buddha'ed out. It's a phenomenon common in Asia – much like the Madonna'ed out syndrome that travelers get in Europe.  Headless Buddhas, resting Bodhisattvas – Buddhas warding off evil, defeating Rama, sitting European style, reclining, teaching, walking, meditating – you name it and we saw it.  Between ruins of red clay brick and dark shadows and we sweated – buckets and buckets –

A little wearied by crumbling stupas and temples and wats – we took the afternoon train back to Bangkok.

This side of Thailand was different. Gone were the fashionable tourists, the go-go girls and ladyboys, and the whitened faces that catered to our holiday fever... Replace that fantasy with the other side. Tin-roofed shantytowns, dirtied children, bamboo huts, fields of peppermint and cassava and tapioca...

Ah, the train.  We got third class tickets, the only available seats to Bangkok.

Along the way: Families camped out on unused railroad tracks, along refuse, grilling meats on charcoal pits. Kids rifled through trash for plastic bottles.  Dark skinned men in crutches, tottering.  Men with beers, riding between cars, tottering. Women with red teeth who spat red – betel juice – out the windows.  Children who begged. Beggars who were silent. Grim faces got on, grim faces stared out the windows, then grim faces got off at platforms overgrown with weeds... Women with heavy rucksacks slung over their shoulders.. women with heavy and harsh laughs...

Thailand, I hardly know ya.

Tomorrow we'll heading out west – to the River Kwai and the 'Death Railway'.