As in most third world countries, there are two classes of people: the very wealthy and the excessively poor. Single items such as small bottles of vinegar and other condiments are sold for twenty baht so the poor can afford them (currently, thirty-two baht is equivalent to one U.S. dollar). The homeless sit on platforms and steps begging for change, many of whom wear ragged clothing and have obvious physical disabilities. It seems to me that the world's poor have the same face no matter the region or country.
Like other Asian nations, the Thai people are extremely friendly, placing their hands in prayerful supplication and bowing when they finish a conversation or financial transaction. Broad smiles light up their faces; a truly happy people.
Many of the sidewalks are built with their version of paving stones. As you walk, it is important to be aware of the ones that have come loose or you will pay for your inattention by tripping and falling down. Conversely, the streets are in perfect condition--a testament to the level of importance the government places on moving traffic in a city of eighteen million people.
Billboards, the size of which I have never seen in my life, line bustling highways. Advertising everything from perfume to warnings about Buddhist statues not being used for adornment and decoration, the signs span a football field in length.
The Air Train is their public rail system that moves hundreds of thousands of people a day through the expanse of buildings and markets. People are very polite, but the Thai tend to be louder than many of their Asian counterparts.
Bangkok is a city paralyzed by its past and struggling to catch up to the rest of the word. Financially speaking, the developing nation reminds me much of the Philippines. Their greatest asset is their people and it shows in how they treat guests. The Thai people are very service oriented and tend to great everyone with a smile and a bow. It is so refreshing to be in a place where courtesy outweighs the need to get from point A to a final destination. Things move rapidly in this big city, but you get a distinct sense that if you do not arrive on time the world will continue spinning without reason for discontent.
The air is hot, even by Alabama standards, and moisture hangs in the air like a wet towel on a clothes line. Sweat drips off your body within seconds of stepping outside and anywhere there is shade, you will find a Thai lounging beneath. Bottled water is a must, as tap water is not to be trusted--this is the same in developing nations around the world.
A tour of Buddhist temples is a must if you visit. The reverence the Thai people place on their religion and on the monks who practice this way of spirituality is a part of who they are. Kindness and politeness are bridged by their religion.
While touring one of the many exquisite temples, a monk yelled at me, "Today is a beautiful day to see our temple, yes?" He beamed with pride!
"Yes, and your temple is glorious and beautiful," I responded.
He bowed before thanking me for my response, a huge smile showing a mouthful of teeth and even more pride that a foreigner would say something like I did.
How many times did I say something was beautiful, nice, or clean, only to be thanked by our tour guide? It is apparent that Bangkok is its people, and its people is Bangkok.
After spending so much time in the city, we ventured three and a half hours west to the Thailand/Myanmar (Burma) border. Lush jungles and pointed mountain peaks loomed as though warning onlookers to venture no further or face a hell they could not possibly understand.
We walked through one of the many tiny markets in a small town whose barely paved roads were filled with rain water and mud to awaiting railroad tracks. Our guide had us carefully walk on the tracks which stretched over the River Kwae (that is Kwai if you are a westerner) until we reached the side of a mountain with a man-made cave opened to anyone wanting to enter.
It was explained to us that during the Japanese occupation of Thailand, POW's were forced to chisel out the cave so Japanese soldiers had a place to camp and sleep. The size of the cave was impressive and a Buddhist shrine now sits inside for an individual to step forward to pray for the souls lost during the digging of the cave, or to simply ask for the Asian god for good luck and fortune.
Our next stop was Hellfire Pass. For those, like me, who do not understand what Hellfire Pass was, I will attempt to give you highlights. The Japanese, during World War II, wanted to invade India via Calcutta. Since that area of the gigantic nation is landlocked, they believed the easiest way was to force POW's to build a railroad through Thailand and Burma that would carry soldiers for the imminent invasion. POW's were forced to work eighteen hours a day in stifling heat, while being eaten alive by malaria laden mosquitoes. They were given two meals a day of rice and water with no protein of any kind. Their bodies withered to nothing as they hand chiseled through granite hillsides, the Japanese beating them if they didn't work hard enough. POW's too weak to continue were left to the side to die.
Slathered in mosquito repellent, we walked a mile and a half of what remained of the Pass. The mosquitos buzzed our heads, and a couple brave ones managed to bit me where I either missed putting a dollop of the cream, or they simply didn't care. Either way, I kept imagining myself laying in a Thai hospital while running a 105 degree fever. Fortunately, that did not happen.
Incredibly large groves of bamboo lined the old railroad path and large trees fought to reclaim that which was removed some seventy-five years earlier. The Myanmar border was just to our west, the mountains providing a natural separation between the two countries. Our bodies were dripping with sweat by the time we reached the visitor center; the railroad tracks had long since been removed and concrete steps moving tourists up and down the trail remained. Our legs were screaming for mercy, despite the short hike through the jungle.
Our van sat idle in the parking lot, and I cannot recall a time when air conditioning felt so good. After an hour drive, we stopped to walk across a special bridge. If you have ever seen the movie "Bridge over the River Kwai" then you are familiar with the wooden and steel bridges the Japanese again forced POW's to build during WWII.
Our short trek over the railroad tracks on the bridge took us to an awaiting boat that shot us up and down the river as we snapped photos and looked at shanties and luxury river suites. The very poor and rich shared the river's shores, a strangely bitter scene that was not lost on me.
Water from the river covered our legs that was splashed from the low seated skiff. Our river captain eased the boat to the dock where we exited and walked to our van. Once again, we understood why the Thai people value air conditioning like they do. Our driver handed us cold towels dipped in a sanitary concoction so we could clean ourselves up and cool down a little faster. I can't explain how good those little towels felt after spending time in humidity that felt as though it was embracing you like a long-lost family member.
The three remaining three hour drive back to our condo allowed us to see repeating scenes. Street after street, block after block, people sold their wares from small hawker stalls and make-shift carts. Food, trinkets, basic needs, everything a person required to live life could be purchased. Westerners are used to buying things in bulk, but the poor Asians sell single items. Things like a single egg, a tiny pack of toilet paper, a single cigarette, etc. can be bought from one of these stalls.
We stumbled into our place after the long drive, my eyes bloodshot and my body weary. I allowed myself a little time to process everything I had seen before drifting off to sleep. Allow me to say that I am so happy I got to experience this phenomenal country.
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