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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
A little flesh, a little history
I can feel an angel sliding up to me
One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble
Not much between despair and ecstasy
One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble
Can't be too careful with your company
I can feel the devil walking next to me
This was Kaelene’s third trip to Bangkok and Marty’s second, we were more relaxed than previously and somehow the old bandicoots with gorgeous young Thai women on their arms didn’t seem quite so offensive. We don’t quite know why; old men (much, much older than us) with genital-strangulating shorts, beer-brand tee singlets, white socks pulled up the just below the knees and sandals. How hideous is that? One almost, but not quite, feels more sorry that men would dress like that than for the young woman that need to attach themselves to such men, but it may be the sort of symbiotic relationship that we were supposed to learn about in high school science. Each is reliant on the other, however distasteful. Perhaps one reason we were so relaxed was because in Barbados a global balance seemed to be achieved somehow by a predominance of middle-aged white women on the beach, loved up, with young black studs. It’s a funny old world.
As for us, a day or so in Bangkok was not spent chasing ping pong in Patpong, we were satisfied with shopping and a taxi ride to the Hard Rock Café, the tenth such café we have visited on our travels so far (and at least one more to come if ever the Patong one ever re-opens), a meal and the purchase of another HRC shot glass to add to the family collection. Our children are destined to inherit an invaluable collection of internationally worthless souvenirs if, doubtfully, we ever pass away. Fortunately immortalisation is possible with the new science.
Then it was to the Hillary II bar, to sit outside in the warm evening air, drinking red wine and watching the world go by; the street vendors, tuk-tuks and passersby, visitors and locals playing pool in the bar. This is life. Kaelene was simply impressed that the host recalled our red wine order from the night before and brought our tipple out without us actually even needing to order. We looked at each other and decided that this was a better look at contemporary life than a trip to the royal palace or the reclining Buddha. Warts and all, this was real.
But Bangkok was just a short interlude and reality an airport taxi ride away. If there is an airline company that appears to know how to treat its customers Bangkok Airlines would set a shining example; a customer lounge in the domestic departure hall with magazines, tea, coffee and snacks, and then an aircraft that is actually configured with legroom that is comfortable for more than just midgets. Contrast this to Lufthansa, a Star Alliance partner, with whom we flew to Milan in July. Despite entitlement to Star Alliance lounges through our Air New Zealand Koru Club membership, we were denied entry because our bookings weren’t actually made through Air New Zealand.
We claim some expertise in comparing and contrasting airlines and they shall be ranked at some stage soon, but we could give an early indication that Jetstar would be the most abysmal, and we mean abysmal, outfit we have ever had the misfortune to fly with (Sydney to Thailand in April, we still have nightmares), and Emirates would retain its number one spot, surprisingly with the Boeing 777 as the most comfortable of planes. But this is all another story.