Bangkok: Focus on the Small Stuff

Some years ago I won a prize in a Thai Airways travel writing competition with this article about Bangkok (I subsequently used the prize - a trip anywhere on the airline's network - to visit India). 

As the story is no longer available online, I'd like to share it here. Enjoy!

I don’t know what it is, but it’s big. I’m standing on the footpath in the Siam Square district of Bangkok, looking up at a towering white figure that’s not quite human.

The seated statue is pure white, with an elongated head, feet and fingers, and is staring into the traffic.

Dollar is an outlandish piece of street art on a busy Bangkok street, just metres from the endless flow and roar of motorbikes, buses and cars. According to the artist, the statue represents the stresses and pressures of modern society.

As I read these words on its base, I find myself nodding. Bangkok is definitely a lively city, exciting and vibrant at all hours of the day; especially here in the commercial centre, where gigantic shopping malls line busy roads, overshadowed by the Skytrain elevated railway.

But is it possible to discover a more contemplative side to the Thai capital? Having set out on foot through the humid morning haze from my hotel, I’m determined to give it a try.

Turning right into Soi Kasem San 2, there’s a remarkable contrast between the mega-malls behind me and the quiet laneway leading to Jim Thompson’s House, my destination at the end of the street.

This collection of traditional Thai timber houses, some of them centuries old, was linked together in 1959 to create a single sprawling home.

An American soldier during World War II, Thompson had then become a silk manufacturer, employing the traditional silk weavers of the Muslim district across the nearby canal.

Thompson was a great admirer of Thai traditions, so he filled his houses with beautiful antiques, including ancient statues of the Buddha, while adding Western elements such as chandeliers.

Then, in 1967, on a holiday in Malaysia, he mysteriously disappeared and was never heard of again. As a result, the house has become his legacy.

“Visitors enjoy the fact that it is not a museum, it’s someone’s home,” says Eric Booth, trustee of the James HW Thompson Foundation.

“We take care of it as if Jim was still living there. The young guides aren’t there to lecture, so our visitors are not overwhelmed by history.”

However, the knowledgeable Thais who lead the regular tours are happy to answer questions about Thompson’s superb eye for art and its placement.

“There are many important pieces, including the exceptional Dvaravati torso in the garden,” says Booth, referring to the partial Buddha statue that’s over a thousand years old.

“But what I really like is the mix of important pieces and everyday objects. The way he displayed them makes the house a wonderful place. After all, it is a home, not a museum!”

After the tour, I wander through the splendid tropical garden and admire the house from the outside. I decide it’s a charming and, more importantly, balanced home, a harmonious blend of natural and man-made objects, and of new and old.

I feel I could happily move in here, lounging on its daybeds and letting natural ventilation, shade and shutters cool me rather than relying on the dry artificiality of air-conditioning.

Leaving the grounds and walking west, I discover Garimmin & Sobereen, a small restaurant stretched along the path that borders the canal.

It’s decorated with potted tropical plants, and serves up freshly cooked food from its open-air kitchen. This is the real thing - straightforward Thai food served direct from pan to table.

My pad thai, a Thai standard, arrives bearing noodles, egg, crumbled peanuts and a dash of seafood. I add a sprinkle of chilli flakes from a jar in the middle of the table.

The effect is gratifyingly spicy and the meal is delicious - and all for a mere 30 baht (S$1.25). As I sit and eat, ferry boats loaded with tourists periodically zoom past, but I’m not in their world right now; I’m taking it slowly.

Finally, I step onto the footbridge that will take me across the Saem Saeb canal to Baan Krua, the district where Thompson’s weavers lived. From this vantage point, the jumble of shops and homes that make up the district are appealingly human-scale.

It’s peaceful and cool walking along its narrow but neatly-maintained pedestrian laneways, and it’s fascinating to encounter the small shops embedded in the buildings, serving residents’ diverse shopping needs.

I score a smile or two from the shopkeepers, and somewhere unseen I can hear children chatting and laughing.

Suddenly, walking east, I pop out of the perimeter of Baan Krua, back into the busy larger world of Bangkok.

I can feel my energy levels rising by the second, and I’m keen to enjoy all this bustling city has to offer; but I linger for a moment, wanting to hang on a little longer to the relaxed vibe of its back streets.

Big Surprise at the Vie Hotel, Bangkok

I don't often complain about my job, but one of the truths of travel writing is this:

The more spectacular the hotel room, the less time you'll have to enjoy it.

Take the Vie Hotel in Bangkok, Thailand.

I was hosted by this classy contemporary hotel for one night in March this year, checking out the next day in order to board the Eastern & Oriental Express train to Singapore.

I arrived in the late evening, tired after two flights and wanting to get straight to my room. I didn't pay much attention to what the hotel staff were saying about the room, so when I got to the 25th floor I was surprised to see how big it was.

And by big, I mean BIG.

Let me give you a video tour of my humble Grand Duplex Suite:

Though I didn't pay for the room on this occasion, I'm impressed by its relative affordability - judging from the hotel's website, this 145 square metre suite (over twice the size of my apartment in Melbourne) can sometimes be secured for less than $800 per night.

Given that it has two full-size bedrooms, that price could make it a good 'special occasions' splurge for two couples travelling together.

For me, it was a surprisingly spacious place to lay my head before rushing out again in the morning. I did have a chance to swim in the pool though, which is high above the city streets and has a transparent wall at one end.

So that was fun.

Disclosure: I was hosted by the Vie Hotel for my one night in Bangkok.

Thailand 1: Hot in the City

May the caffeine gods forgive me - I had a coffee today which contained a layer of condensed milk in the bottom of the glass.

But when in Bangkok, do as the locals do, and this style of coffee is a regional favourite. I can only assume that condensed milk became popular in the tropics before the invention of fridges, due to it having a half-life just short of that of plutonium.

It also cost 120 baht, about A$4, which was rather outrageous, as you'll see when I tell you how much my lunch cost. Not to mention my massage.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I had the coffee at Jim Thompson's House. No, not that of an old friend inviting me in for morning tea and then expecting payment; Thompson was an American soldier who settled in Bangkok in the 1940s and sparked international interest in Thai silk.

He also bought six traditional Thai timber houses and melded them together in a green shady spot on a canal, fusing Thai art and architecture with Western decor. For example, the home's spacious living room contains Buddha statues, a day bed and a chandelier.

The most fascinating element of Thompson's life, though, may be the way it ended. On a stroll in the Malaysian highlands in 1967, he disappeared utterly, and no trace of him or his body have ever been found. The fact he was involved in the OSS, the predecessor of the CIA, during the war has led to all manner of conspiracy theories. But we'll probably never know what happened to him, though his house makes a worthy monument to his life.

After my curiously non-sweet coffee (no matter how much you stir, the condensed milk tends to remain in a layer on the bottom), I walked west along the Khlong Saem Saeb canal, intending to have a look at the Baan Krua district on the other side, where Thompson's Muslim weavers lived and worked.

Then I found, just before the footbridge over the water, a humble eatery ranged along the cement path, with a selection of slightly bedraggled tropical plants forming a decorative border between the restaurant and the khlong. Local residents were sitting at plastic tables in their singlets, watching (for some reason) a nature documentary on a suspended TV. At the far end the kitchen smoked and sizzled.

Not knowing much Thai, I ordered pad thai, a standard noodle dish. It arrived with a cruet containing four jars, liberated from the lids they must have had once in the supermarket, containing a variety of means of adding chilli to your meal. I've always liked the Thai liking for hot stuff, so added a generous amount of both chilli flakes and the tiny red and green chopped chillies floating in oil. How hot could it get?

Actually, very hot. But damn good - the flat noodles were cooked up with egg, some prawns and other seafood, there was coriander on top and vegetables at one end, and a small helping of crumbled peanut on the side.

Sitting there in the humid open air at my plastic tableclothed table, watching ferries zoom past as the canals's green water sloshed alarmingly, I reflected what a deeply fulfilling thing it was to have an entire country full of cheap Thai restaurants serving food like this. The bill? Just 30 baht, about A$1.

Though it wasn't served with condensed milk.

(PS the massage at a streetside place I encountered on the way out of Baan Krua, where I walked after lunch, cost a mere 149 baht, A$5, for an hour's full body massage. Though the masseur did walk all over me. No, I mean he really did.)

Tim Richards travelled courtesy of the Tourism Authority of Thailand.