Slow times on the khlong

I arrived in Bangkok early Friday morning, and the Morchit bus station was already bustling. From Morchit, I checked out the Chatuchak weekend market, located at the Skytrain stop that is also puzzlingly named Morchit.

There I picked up a bag that would more comfortably accomodate my video camera and enhance my mobility when I reached Thonburi, my Muay Thai destination. After a brief stop at a huge electronics mall near Ratchetewi in central Bangkok, I was off to figure out how to locate my friend Krailadh in the somewhat less bustling, but equally confusing streets and lanes across the river.

It is important to note the enormous cultural leap that one makes once he hits the streets of Bangkok. Although many of the people may trace their roots to the provinces, there is a very definite departure from the markedly slower place of even the provincial metropolitan centers. The chaotic sprawl of this fabled city is so full of buses, tuk-tuks, cars, and swarming motorcycles that it seems to be held together with an atmospheric glue of steam and exhaust fumes.

When one hops into a cab in central Bangkok, a dramatic change occurs somewhere along the way on the other side river, where the old capital of Thonburi quickly transitions into areas of stunning greenery, seemingly unthinkable moments before. Palm trees, bushes and winding canals(khlongs) are interpersed with more sparsely sprouting residences that indicate what Bangkok looked like before it became a concrete jungle of businessmen, swindlers, noodle jockeys and slaves(although piled and scattered garbage is still a ubiquitous presence). During the long taxi ride, the driver(who happened to be from Khon Kaen) and I discussed the difference in the lifestyle in Bangkok and Isaan, and we both agreed that the food was better in Isaan, but he explained that the money available in Bangkok is worth the sacrifice of the laid-back lifestyle of his home in the village, where he supported a wife and two children, splitting time and money between another wife and two children in Bangkok.

Following several confusing telephone conversations between the taxi driver and my host, Krailath, we finally ground to a halt by a som tam (Isaan papaya salad) stand along one of the unending Sois (sidestreets) that snake from the main roads with no outlet. This allowed Krailath, who is infinitely more familiar with the layout of the area, to track me down on his bike. The taxi driver treated me to a mid-afternoon snack of ground pork, chili peppers, and pigskin, accompanied by the everpresent/delicious sticky rice that characterizes Isaan cuisine, as we waited for Krailath to arrive.