Ari's Planet

I arrived in Bangkok lastnight, the 7th of February, on an Air India flight from Delhi. The flight was supposed to take off at 0845 and arrive at 1400. My plan was to head to some tourist ghetto, get a guidebook, figure out where to stay, etc. What happened instead...

On the 4th of February I took a wonderful train ride from Jaisalmer to Delhi. The train left just an hour late, around 1700 and arrived the next day a bit after 1300. Traveling with me in my AC3 booth were an Indian couple with a wonderfully friendly two-and-half year old girl, a Canadian attending a conference on GIS systems, and a major in the Indian army and his companion. The little girl really was the highlight, she kept on approaching us and talking on in Hindi, which her mother kindly translated as such astonishing phrases as "I want to go for a walk". The Canadian's hobby is astro-photography. His phrase for India was "dense". It certainly was surprising. The train rode smoothly through the night. Just when I figured out Indian trains, it was my last ride.

I came to Paharganj, the true tourist ghetto. I visited the hotels I had scoped out in my previous visit, but they all sucked. The doors had crappy locks. The prices were too high. The hotel I had last stayed at wouldn't even match his old price. I ended up at Hotel Unique, which is anything but unique. Burning DVDs turned out into a wasted hour at the nearby Internet shop, and the attendant had the gall to ask me to pay for the hour I wasted on his ill-equipped computer.

The next day the streets turned to mud due to rain that fell at night. Muddy, yucky, icky, Paharganj. I wanted to do laundry but there was not a laundry place around that could stick my clothes in a machine; if it weren't for the soggy weather I would have done the wash in a bucket in 30 minutes. I tried to sell my once-read books and heavily used India guide book but no one would give a decent price. Breakfast was a yummy slice of banana-date cake at the cafe in Hotel Ajay. I had my sleeping bag and down jacket boxed and sewn up at a local shop. This required sending the boys out about 4 times to get me a proper box, each time explaining that I wanted a box that would: 1. fit my items without compressing them; 2. not be so flimsy as to get squished. I carefully and politely explained to the sewing boy why they could not be crushed (so as not to damage the down feathers). Finally, they brought a good box, and while I chatted for a moment with a Belgian lady the boy started crushing my sleeping bag into nothing at the bottom of the box! Wow, talk about dense. So went the morning.

I grabbed an overpriced tuktuk to Connaught Place, just because I had no energy to debate the matter. Here, my day was more successful. I managed to pick up my airline ticket, which itself had taken about 14 days to confirm, causing me some worries in the interim. The post office was much more fun, once I managed to find it while dodging some of the worst rickshaw drivers who only wanted to take me on random rides around the city. They were quite helpful, even looking up an incomplete address someone had given me and answered all my questions. The clerk said you cannot buy insurance for packages, which seemed odd, so I hope my packages sent by EMS really get home, otherwise I'm out some very nice down equipment from Western Mountaineering. Back in Paharganj I caught up with my friends. We had dinner and went our separate ways.

I packed up my now fairly empty backpack and tried to get some sleep. At 2AM some ratface called me, a damned wrong number, of course. At 415 AM I woke up. At 5am I went down to find my taxi. My taxi wasn't there but 3 very sleepy employees were lying around on their mattresses sleeping (this is common all over asia it seems). Someone showed up to haul my bag at 515 after they called them. We walked a bit to a taxi, in which was sleeping the driver, but then just sat there another 5 minutes, until another car showed up and I transfered there. This driver finally got on the road at 0525. Soon he wanted to stop for chai. I said no. Then, he asked if he could smoke (amazing he asked). I said no. Then he pulled over. I asked why. To smoke. I berated him for this and said he could do anything he wanted once he dropped me at the airport. We got there at 0545.

Then I discovered my flight was delayed. The guard sitting in front of the counters turned me back. So I hung around for an hour. I asked another attendant and she said just go ahead, you don't need to talk to the guard. India is so random. So I checked in, only to learn my flight was delayed until 1430, instead of 0845. I cleared customs, had a complementary breakfast, spoke to my mom who looked up some hostels, tried to find a room, decided to try Big John's cause he sounded friendly. I slept on uncomfortable benches and enjoyed the overly loud Indians who kept chasing me around, wandered around the incredibly dull duty-free liquor and $450 fountain pen stores, read a paper from England some passenger had deposited, was astonished by 200 Indians queued up before Subway only to learn it was breakfast for a Kuwait airlines flight that had been delayed, and even got turned away from security on my first attempt because it was too early. After making it through, discovering that airports are the only places in India with clean toilets, I found that the clerk at the only food stall with anything approaching edibility decided it was time to be closed. Finally, we boarded.

On the flight I had no inclination to comply with unsolicited requests from the staff to close the shade on my window seat so that other passengers could enjoy the so-much-higher contrast edition of Om Shanti Om, a movie in whose entire existence I could not be any less interested. I read the Alchemist. I had one of my better meals in India. I saved the ziplock bags in which the plastic silverware came. I debated saving the 200 mL plastic water bottle. I spilled crumbs from crackers all over myself. I ignored the screaming baby. We landed.

Bangkok is warm. It's like Tokyo in summer, or vice versa. I spent about 45 minutes at the airport trying to figure out where Big John's was, because I had trouble making phone calls and when I got through all I could hear was "ung won koung con" or some such English with Thai accent. At the end of the floor with departure counters, however, there is Internet access, and in 10 minutes I had the address and price for the taxi (170 + 50 airport fee). This information came in handy, as the driver first "forgot" to turn on the meter, then wanted 350 BT, including 100 for the airport fee, but I insisted it was either meter rate or what the hostel said. He kept on having this sort of embarrased laugh and then went on the "all Americans are rich" BS we get. The laugh seems to be a common Thai way of expressing things. In the end, the meter read 166, and I gave him the 220 I said I'd give, and he was happy enough.

I came into the hostel reception / restaurant, and Big John was there and remembered my call from earlier that day. I got checked in for about 250 BT/night in a big dorm, but ended up only sharing the room with 2 other men, so it was ok. The place is a bit sad inside, but momentum is acting to keep me there. There are showers, and for a change from all the other places I'd been, the lack of hot water is quite alright. I walked around the corner and had a quick meal of noodles and meat at a corner stall, as well as a visit to a 7/11 for some water. Water runsabout 7 BT/liter, and there is a 7/11 on each side of the street. I showered and slept. So I arrived in Bangkok on Chinese New Year for Year of the Rat.