Bangkok: One night in Bangkok and the world’s your oyster.

Yes, I know it's been months since my last blog. I had them written down while I was travelling, but I just have been too busy (lazy) to publish them on the internet. But now I am motivated, (cue 'Eye of the Tiger'):



Bangkok: One night in Bangkok and the world’s your oyster.

And quoting the chorus of the horrendously cheesy 1984 track ‘One Night in Bangkok’:

One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster.

The bars are temples but the pearls ain't free.

You'll find a god in every golden cloister.

And if you're lucky then the God's a she, I can feel an angel sliding up to me.

Does this chorus have any thing to do with my time in Bangkok? I guess. But suppose I just wanted to mention an amazingly cheesy song in my blog – if only to expand the reader’s knowledge in crap music.

Anyway moving on... Ok, think of a segue… Bangkok hey?

I was especially excited to get to Bangkok. The city has so much to offer: beautiful people, spotless streets, cheap food, amazing nightlife and it’s inspiration for cheesy 80’s tunes.

Bangkok represented a symbolic part in the progression of our London to Sydney journey. A part of the trip that I found interesting was the changing appearance of the locals as we headed further east. The locals had gone from European to Middle Eastern to Pakistani/Indian and now to oriental. We had truly arrived in the Far East. In regards to time zones I was only a few hours behind Sydney. I could ring my family at a reasonable hour. I was definitely nearing home.
The whole bus was also happy to arrive in Bangkok as it was our first time in a few months that we were able to meet other backpackers. Places like Iran and Pakistan don’t scream out as backpacker territories (which may be a good thing) so it was nice to be in another backpacker Mecca.

Our hotel was near the famed Kaho Sanh Road – the epicentre of Bangkok’s backpacking industry. This road is littered with stalls selling such things as cheap Pad Thai, henna tattoos, pirated DVDs and my favourite – fake IDs. I spent a few dollars on getting a fake student card which proudly displayed that I went to Harvard University, while another member of the tour got a fake doctorate in Neurology from Cambridge. Why do you need an education when you can get instant qualification and a tan in Bangkok?

We were approached by an enthusiastic taxi driver offering to take us to a “Ping Pong show. For those who don’t know about a ping pong show, I recommend you rent the classic Australian film ‘Priscilla Queen of the Desert’. For those that can’t be asked to pay the rental fee, I’ll explain.

In a word it's a sex show, (actually that's two words). Basically, you pay to see local Thai women shoot ping pong balls and other projectiles out of a certain part of their body. What part of the body? On the whole, I would say it wasn’t their big toes. Not that I found that particularly titillating, but I suppose I was curious and as they say, “when in Rome...” (…Did the ancient Romans have ping pong balls?)

And guess what… It wasn't titillating. You paid your money at the front gate and escorted into a small neon lighted theatre, complete with arena seating. As you sat down, one by one, Thai ladies appear on stage performing a variety of acrobatic genital feats. As the advertising suggested, one of them shot out a ping-pong ball, one blew out candles on a birthday cake, one smoked a cigarette and another one pulled out a streamer and wrapped it around one of the poles on the stage (similar to rhythmic gymnasts at the Olympic Games).

But while these acts required undeniable skill and muscle strength, it was kind of unsettling to look at the Thai women’s bored and disinterested faces. This was their day job: to entertain gawking tourists who would undoubtedly go home and write blogs and tell their friends that they saw flying ping-pong in Bangkok. Sure, these women have feelings too. God, am I sounding too preachy? (Also the fact that the song ‘One Night in Bangkok’ was playing on repeat didn't help the atmosphere either).

After the Ping Pong show, we headed out to Gulliver's Tavern – a lively place on the end of Khao Sanh road. Twas lively place that was open late. After spending an hour binging on Thai beer, we looked around to notice that there were very few Western women in the bar. And as we were surrounded on the dance floor by local Thai ladies it became apparent to me (I'm observant) that this bar might be a hub for Western men to employ the services of local Thai women.

Like the bored faces at the ping pong show, there were two sides to the working Thai woman. One other backpacker went back to one of the women’s house and by house I mean a small shack next to a railway line. Seeing the abject poverty that her and her family lived in wasn’t much of an aphrodisiac. The glamorous (?) image the Thai girls portray to Westerners was far the from harsh reality that some of them lived in. Geez aren't I poetic.

Is this a man? Aren't you supposed to look at the hands?

So it can be said that in my one night in Bangkok, the world was my ping-pong ball, candle and streamer. And yes, that was much more interesting than a plain ol' oyster.