The Only Farang in Town

While eating breakfast, the woman on the aisle leaned over. “It feels like this flight will never end,” she said, looking haggard. “I think I am going to be hearing the jet engines for a week.” Chris just smiled. Apparently, years of meetings, both in person and via Zoom, had him well-trained for endless droning. The truth was that even sixteen hours on the airplane hadn’t diminished his euphoria. Despite his exhaustion, he was thrilled at the thought of the adventure ahead, of discovering an unfamiliar corner of the world.

The choice of Bangkok was truly serendipitous. He was having dinner with a friend, explaining that he wanted an experience completely different from his life in the Pacific Northwest, somewhere he could explore with an open mind. They were eating at their favorite neighborhood Thai restaurant and the owner, Dan, suggested Bangkok and told him that his sister owned an Airbnb there. Nice people, exotic architecture, intriguing history, great food … it just seemed like the perfect place.

The weeks since Chris had given his notice at work had flown by. It has been much more complicated to untangle his life and begin this adventure than he expected. He was astonished at the number of details that had to be worked out before he was able to get on the plane. Because Chris wanted to stay in the country for ninety days, he had to apply for a visa. He had to rent his condo to cover his mortgage payments. He had to put some of his personal stuff in storage.  Coordinating his friend’s sister’s Airbnb worked out after a few hiccups. He’d take it for a month to start and see what he wanted from there.

Chris reached into the seatback pocket and grabbed his very dog-eared Lonely Planet Guide to Thailand. He reread the chapter on Bangkok, though by now he could almost recite the words. In the last ten weeks, Chris had googled every possible combination of words related to Thailand.  He had learned a few key phrases of Thai. While he realized that hello and thank you wouldn’t take him far, he hoped that a wai gesture with his hands and a big smile would help.

The mid-afternoon arrival at Sukhumvit Airport turned into a late afternoon departure from the airport as customs and immigration and baggage claim all added lots more time than Chris was used to. Finally, he had his roller bag and carry-on and knapsack together and he headed to the taxi kiosk in the Arrivals Hall. “Sawadee kha, where are you going?” the woman behind the desk asked.

“Sawadee khrub, Khet Phaya, near the Ari Skytrain station,” Chris replied, using the pronunciation that Dan’s sister, Ploy, taught him. “10 Soi Ari 2.” Then, Chris remembered and put his palms together in greeting.

“Nice area,” the woman said with a smile. She typed the address into the system and handed him a slip of paper with the address in Thai. “Just go out the door and take the first green taxi. It says Happy Taxi on the side door. Enjoy your stay in Thailand.”

The automatic door opened and the whoosh of hot, humid air enveloped Chris. Yes, he’d read that Bangkok was the hottest big city on the planet, but nothing prepared him for that initial blast of heat and humidity. The weeks before he left Seattle, he watched the Bangkok weather daily.  It was a monotonous repetition of high of ninety degrees and low of eighty-four. There was no way it was only ninety degrees! With the intense humidity, it felt way hotter than that. Chris felt the heatwaves emanating from the pavement and feared that he’d get stuck in the asphalt. Perspiration trickled down his sides and his calves. Chris looked around for the taxi line and instead found a scrum of drivers waiting near the door.

Wilting in the heat, he walked to what seemed like the first car in the line. A short, middle-aged man, bounded towards him. Chris showed his ticket, and the man pointed to a younger man by a green taxi. Chris nodded in thanks and walked to the younger man. “Where are you going?” the driver asked, reaching for the roller bag.  Chris handed him the ticket. “Nice!” the driver said reading the slip of paper. “Most tourists either stay downtown or by Siam Square. You’ll like it there.”

The driver opened the trunk and he and Chris put the two larger suitcases in it. Chris kept the knapsack and slid into the back seat. The driver opened the front right door and sat down. Chris did a double take. Who was going to drive?  Then he realized that the driver was behind the steering wheel.  Chris wondered how in all his study of the country he had failed to notice that they drive on the left here.

The car hurtled from the curb into the on-rushing traffic. Chris gasped as they came within inches of the other cars speeding by. The driver pretended not to hear and wove rapidly as car doors opened in their path, while on the right, other taxis and cars seemed eager to join the race.

Once out of the airport, the driver really tried to put the pedal to the metal. The traffic was fierce and at times it seemed as if they were barreling into a wall of oddly strewn cars rather than vehicles in recognizable lanes.

Then the twenty hours of travel, the fourteen-hour time difference, the searing heat and humidity, and the crazy cab ride on the wrong side of the road all hit home at once. The taxi clock said five-thirty in the afternoon. That would make it three-thirty in the morning at home. Exhaustion overcame Chris. His body seemed to collapse into itself. His head began to throb. As much as he wanted to close his eyes, he couldn’t though. The kamikaze driving made it impossible to concentrate on anything other than the next few meters of traffic.

The driver glanced at Chris in the rear-view mirror and smiled. “I am crazy, eh?” Chris wasn’t sure how to answer him, so he stayed silent. “Everything in Bangkok is crazy!” Chris smiled a bit. “You want a pretty girl for tonight?”

“Pardon,” Chris replied.

“You want a pretty Thai girl tonight?” the driver repeated.

“No, thank you,” Chris replied.

“Are you sure?”  the driver continued. “A handsome young man like you must surely want a pretty Thai lady.”

“Not tonight.  Thanks,” Chris said.

“Why not?” the driver asked. “You don’t think Thai ladies are pretty? Thai ladies are the prettiest in the world. Miss Universe finalists.”

Chris had read about the nation’s fascination with beauty pageants and the success Thais often had in competitions like Miss Universe. It was a point of national pride. “You are right. They are very beautiful,” Chris said. “I am very tired tonight, and I am just going to rest.”

“Pretty Thai lady can help you rest even better,” the driver persisted.

“Thanks. No,” Chris said, trying to be firm.

The driver was silent for a moment. Then he looked again into the rear-view mirror. “You want a handsome Thai boy?”

Chris was not prepared for the question and flinched. “What?”

“You want a Thai boy? Really handsome. Big dick,” the driver said. “I can get one for you.”

“No, I really don’t want any company at all, tonight,” Chris replied, becoming impatient. “I have travelled almost an entire day, and I just want to rest. Thanks.”

“OK.” The driver was silent for a few minutes. That bizarre conversation at least took Chris’s mind off the pinball traffic. He was able to focus on the scene unfolding around him. Mainly, he watched mile after mile of skyscrapers go by.  With the familiar green or blue freeway signs, it could have been home. The Thai script on the first line of the signs was the only marker that told him he wasn’t in “Kansas” anymore.

“Do you need a tour guide?” the driver asked, turning around to Chris. The American gasped for the second time on the trip as the car careened into the melee of vehicles on the road. The driver didn’t notice.

“I haven’t arranged anything yet,” Chris replied.

“I will call my brother. He runs a tour company,” the driver said as he reached for his cell phone on the passenger seat.

“No, please,” Chris said, touching the man’s arm as he reached. “Please just give me a card. I promise I will call.”

The driver scowled a bit. “OK.”

The taxi left the freeway and started to drive on city streets, which were teeming with life. Between the cars, the stores, the vendors in carts, and seemingly infinite number of people walking on the sidewalks, it fascinated Chris. As exhausted as he was, adrenaline started to kick in one last time. He felt a surge of energy and he began to smile.

After half an hour or so, the taxi arrived at the condo. It was a tall, white concrete and steel building. Chris stared up at it. The fare, including the tolls, was four hundred and seventy baht. Less than thirteen dollars for a thirty-minute cab ride. Not bad, Chris thought. He paid the driver, who got out of the car and opened the trunk while Chris retrieved his knapsack and slid out of the back seat. When he emerged from the car, the bags were on the sidewalk. The driver handed Chris two business cards. “This one is mine,” the driver said. “And this one is for my brother who has the travel company. Tell him Ohm referred you.”

Chris thanked Ohm and headed into the condo. Ploy lived in the neighborhood, so they had arranged the security guard would call her when Chris arrived and, in a few minutes, his new landlady walked through the door. She was short, trim, with a wide face and long straight black hair. Chris was astonished that Ploy wore a grey jacket over her pink t-shirt. How could anyone wear a jacket in this heat? Ploy introduced Chris to the security guard and opened the door with a key card. They got into the elevator, and she pushed the button for the sixteenth floor.

“How was your trip?” Ploy asked as they ascended.

“Fine,” Chris answered.

“You look tired,” Ploy said.

“You’ve got that right!” Chris replied. “I am totally exhausted.”

“I’ll just go over the essentials today,” Ploy said. “We can cover the additional stuff tomorrow or the next day. I live right around the corner, so I can be here anytime you want.”

“That’s great,” Chris said.

The elevator arrived at their floor. Ploy led the way down the hall and using the same key card, opened the door to the studio condo. They entered the room through the kitchenette, with a small fridge, a couple of burners on a counter, and lots of cupboards. “It’s an efficiency kitchen,” Ploy said. “You have the burners and the microwave. Most people don’t cook here. Anything you can imagine is available on the streets right in the neighborhood. Between the restaurants, cafés, and food stalls, no one cooks much.” She turned and pointed to the corner. “There is the washer. Just hang the wet clothes on the drying rack on the balcony.”

They walked through an archway, past a white-tiled bathroom, to the middle of the room. The far wall was completely glass leading onto a narrow balcony. The view was nice and the light at six o’clock was perfect. On one of the side walls, near the balcony, was a large made-up king bed, with lots of pillows on top. A night table stood beside the bed. To the right of the bed, nearer the kitchen, was a two-person desk with lots of outlets and usb ports. It reminded him of something from his old office. Chris was delighted. He laid the knapsack, inside of which was his laptop, on the desk.

Across from the desk was a fifty-inch television, with a leather love seat in front of it, sort of in the middle of the room, with side tables on either side. “You have Netflix and full cable service,” Ploy said, pointing at the TV. “The remote is on the table beside the couch.”  Chris nodded. “The pool and gym are on the roof which is on the twenty-sixth floor.  Use the same card key to enter that level. One card key does everything, so don’t lose it. If you do, it will cost six hundred baht to replace it.”

“Got it,” Chris replied. They had already gone over that when they Zoomed.

“There is coffee in the kitchen for tomorrow morning,” Ploy continued. “Are you going to have anything to eat now?”

“I’d better have something to eat, so I can get my body adjusted to the new time,” Chris said.

“Just go downstairs and walk around the neighborhood. You won’t have to go more than a block to find something,” Ploy said. “I’m going to let you get settled now. I’ll be back tomorrow or whenever you like.”

“I want to get a cell phone,” Chris said.

“Right,” Ploy replied. “I’ll come by at ten-thirty tomorrow morning and we’ll get you one.”

“Thanks,” Chris said.

“Welcome to Bangkok!” Ploy said and gave him a sisterly hug.

#

Ploy wasn’t kidding. Just downstairs there were food stalls and restaurants galore. Chris had read about Bangkok’s amazing street food stalls and was eager to try them out. He walked about a block and stopped at a stall where the noodles smelled especially aromatic, a combination of garlic, citrus, and fishiness. Chris watched the cook chop and combine the vegetables and shrimp with the noodles. Perfect. Chris tried to read the handwritten menu on a whiteboard, but it was all in Thai. Chris realized the woman behind the stall was watching him. Chris pointed at the menu and shrugged his shoulders. The woman smiled and held out a laminated card, which gave him the information in English. Chris pointed at the dish being prepared and the vendor pointed at the menu. Pad see ew, stir fried noodles with shrimp. Chris also pointed at a bottle of Singha beer that was displayed on the cart.

The woman scribbled the prices on a piece of paper and handed it to Chris. He smiled, realizing that the bottle of beer was more expensive than the noodles. Even so, the entire meal cost around four dollars, perfect for someone on a tight budget. Chris realized he would be eating many meals at these food stalls. Chris tried to count out some money but realized that the coins only had Thai script and numerals. He gave up and reached out a handful of coins that he’s received as change from the cab ride. The saleswoman carefully picked out the right amount and handed Chris his cold beer. She pointed to an empty table right by the stall. Chris walked over and sat down, signaling back to the woman for confirmation. She nodded.

In a matter of minutes, the hot noodles were set before him, along with a jar of tiny peppers. Chris had read about these peppers, prik kee noo, and knew he had to be cautious. Mouse shit peppers may be small, but they are explosive on the tongue. Not tonight, he thought.

Even through the haze of jetlag, Chris found the food and beer delicious. Somehow, the flavors, which he knew well from home, seemed more vibrant. For the first time since he got to Bangkok, he relaxed. He looked around and felt a sense of satisfaction. He was here! At long last, he was here.

Chris heard some raucous laughing from the table next to his. Four handsome Thai men, about his age, were eating and engaged in a very animated conversation. Despite not understanding a word they were saying, he could tell from the tone and body language that they were joking and having a great time. Chris realized that every once in a while, the guys were glancing in his direction. Suddenly, one of the men stared directly at Chris, smiled, and raised his glass. Chris blushed at being caught out. The guy was one of the most handsome men Chris had ever seen. He had thick black hair and a firm jawline, but it was the mustache, goatee, and gold hoop earrings that gave him a hipster vibe that set him apart from the other guys at the table. He had the most engaging smile. Chris smiled back and lifted his bottle of beer to reciprocate.

To avoid looking like a stalker, Chris focused on his meal, slurping his noodles and sipping on his beer. His mind began to wander and then began to shut down. The jetlag took over and before long, his head dropped.

A gentle hand on the shoulder woke him. The beautiful man had walked over when he saw Chris nod off. Chris jerked at the touch and opened his eyes. The man smiled and leaned towards him. “Buddy, even though this is a safe neighborhood, it’s not a good idea to fall asleep at the table. Are you OK to go home by yourself?” he asked in accented but excellent English.

Chris turned beet red. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

The man called to the food sellers to bring a box and a go-cup. He then helped put the rest of Chris’s food into the containers. All the while he smiled at Chris, who was so mortified he couldn’t look the man in the eye. Once his food and beer were in their containers, the man touched Chris’s shoulder again. “You’re sure you’re able to get back to your place?”

Chris nodded. “Yeah.  Thanks. I am just down the block.”

“Take care,” the man said and gave Chris’s shoulder a squeeze. “Welcome to Thailand.”

Chris stood, picked up the bag and his phone. “Thanks,” Chris mumbled before hustling away shame faced. He stopped and looked back after going half a block, to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating it all. Sure enough, the gorgeous man was standing by the table, watching him. Chris picked up his pace. He definitely needed to get some sleep.