Two Bangkoks

Having gotten our feet wet over the first day or two, we set out to see the sights of Thailand. Our navigation was improving, and we began to embrace the routine that descends on the backpacker after a couple of days on the road. Our sights turned to the Thai capital.

Bangkok, like so many other cities aspiring for the shimmering towers of the twenty-first century, is deeply divided into two separate spheres. The old and the new, or, perhaps, the reality and the fantasy. The new Bangkok strives to be seen through the scrubbed windows of the new skytrain, whizzing by and traversing the rooftops of the old world below. At each stop, large advertisements for new developments like "The River" adorn the walls. A fashionista graces the advertisement, pimping the modern condominium complex under a slogan reading: The Residence, The Lifestyle, The River.

Under the skytrain, old Bangkok survives. Street vendors stretch the narrow sidewalks as far as the eye can see, hawking food, amulets, umbrellas. Anything that can fit on a cart. Women work on the sidewalks rather than inside their stores behind them, making us wonder whether it is too hot or too lonely to work inside. We tend to believe the latter, as the entire market, social function, and community development seem to transpire outside the stores and on the sidewalks or inside the bustling markets. Everywhere deals are being struck and Bangkok's residents are interacting with each other, be it to bargain, greet, joke, or trade. The immediate smiles and nods translate well to our southern sensibilities, as Rebecca and I both tend to smile and nod at every person we pass. In New York, we get strange looks. Here, we fit in. I try not to smile and nod at the lady streetwalkers, as twice this has led to arms draped over my shoulder and a whisper in my ear. I graciously raised my new ring each time.



This is old Bangkok, the reality underneath the fantasy. Indeed, we would pass "The River" on our walk, and both the lifestyle and the residence seemed empty. The draw of the west has not reached old Bangkok, and one wonders whether it ever will. Before touring the Grand Palace and Wat Phra Kaew, the incredible temple accompanying the same grounds, we stumbled upon a back alley that looked like it could be unchanged from many years past, save the flat-screen televisions illuminating the doorways. Almost narrow enough to touch opposing walls with arms outstretched, the ground of the alley had been fortified and leveled with an even narrower wooden walkway. Trees and their roots climbed the stone walls and rose up and out of the alley, perhaps lending some support to the integrity of the structures. Every few steps, another doorway would appear on either side of us, doors open, empty floors, but smiling faces. Times like these cause both of us to feel a bit self conscious. The balance between seeing things as they are/were against the fear of being viewed as gawking or worse, exploiting a poor subculture of Thais for our own sightseeing design. The alleyway ended at the river, and the wooden walkway turned sharply upward towards the decks of the old, unused wooden ships. Several men seemed to be working on the ships, most likely to be turned into residences or docks. While tugging at our heartstrings, that alley seemed alive, it seemed to bustle with life, and marked the first time we truly felt like we had entered another time and place.

The dichotomy of the two Bangkoks is not new or particular to Bangkok, we have seen it in other cities in both prior travels and now that we have made our way south to the islands, where shiny new resorts for westerners sit directly beside old world fishing villages. But it is a tension impossible not to notice, and while we see it everywhere, it seems to become more pronounced when traveling through the old world countries. I expect the theme to stay with us throughout our trip, as our conscious decision to travel over rougher roads unfolds.

Thanks for coming along...