I had a bit of a brain freeze today when, for about 10 seconds, I honestly couldn’t remember where I was.  I knew I was sitting curbside eating breakfast, but I literally couldn’t think which city I was in.  I looked at my plate.  Noodles. 

Didn’t really narrow it down.

Yesterday, I dropped by the Oriental Hotel.  Not to stay–it’s way out of my price range–but to check out the scene of the crime.  The place where Hector Senior and my mom were swimming at 4 AM after their “first date” (which I mentioned it in the last post).

Here’s the place:

And here’s the swimming pool. 

Must have been pretty cool.  From the pool, you can watch all the boats floating up and down the river that sits just a few feet away.

While I’m at it, here’s the first reference to Hector Senior in any of the letters I’ve come across:  My mom:  “Coming into Bangkok from Phnom Penh I met a Mexican connected with Time’s Asian edition.  One of the most entertaining people on this trip–magnificent humor and fun.” 

One thing that seems consistent in everything I’ve learned about him on this trip, whether from these letters or talking to his old friends/girlfriends in Mexico, even a couple old co-workers…to a person, they’ve all seconded this above opinion of him.  Whatever else he may have been, he was apparently the life of the party.

Even though the Oriental was way out of my budget range, I decided I could at least have lunch by the pool.  The meal there was about 10 times more expensive than one I would have gotten back in the Khoasan area where I’m staying.  Not only that, it wasn’t nearly as enjoyable.  One odd paradox about travelling is the more you pay, the less sociable the environment, and as a result, the less fun.  Say you have lunch here at the Oriental….you’re treated princely, but you’re cocooned off in your own comfy bubble.  Whereas at one of the street cafes, you’re crammed together with the other diners and inevitably strike up conversations.  At the Oriental I was bored stiff.  Later that same day, I had a beer and a snack and laughed for an hour straight with this couple (Susan and Floren?…sorry, horrible with names) from Germany:

P

Same with accomodations….the more you pay, the more privacy you get.  Maybe a good thing for a day or two, but when travelling alone for two months, you want some interaction.  And that, you sure get at the cheaper guesthouses.

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At the last minute I flipped my itinerary around and am flying into Vietnam today and then will come back by land and river from Ho Chi Minh City through into Cambodia and by Angkor Wat, before returning to Bangkok for my flight out of Southeast Asia and into Paris.  As I was going over that letter I quoted from above, I discovered that coincidentally my mom had pulled a similar last minute switch and swung into Vietnam and Cambodia before coming through Bangkok.  Of course going through Vietnam and Cambodia in the the 60’s was a lot ballsier than it is today.  I think she’s the one who’s got some stories to tell…

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I haven’t forgotten the betting.  In fact I went out last night to one of the two main Muay Thai boxing stadiums to catch some bouts.  Not wanting to get suckered by the over-priced tickets they sell in the tourist areas I set out on my own and figured I’d get them at the gate.  A sage move except for one small thing…the fights last night were at the other stadium.  I went into a nearby restaurant to find out how far away the other place was–the other side of Bangkok of course.  I was hungry, and it was a funky looking place and the local crowd seemed to be enjoying themselves so I decided to eat before dragging myself across town.  The name of the place is Likitikiya.  Rather, that’s how it sounded when I asked the waitress.  The sign out front was in Thai…

…Apparently that sounds like Likitikiya. 

I know I promised myself to watch what I eat after that case of food poisoning, but who can pass up “Bull Entails Spices Soup”?  I can’t help it…you put chicken feet or bull entrails or fishheads on the menu, it’s like my siren song…I have to try it.  Besides, it was looking like the betting wasn’t happening this night, so I figured I owed you some form of gambling.  In this case, gambling whether I’d be throwing up bull entrails today.  (By the way, it was spelled “Entails” not “Entrails” as I’m assuming it was meant to be.  But isn’t Bull Entails Spices a very poetic name for a soup?

It could also equally go by the name of Spicy Bull Entrails Entail Bad Dreamsm, cause I spent lost night tossing and turning dreaming about Water Buffalo chasing me through Vietnamese rice paddies (probably in retaliation for eating their bull brethen’s entrails).

My intention for the night had been to see some boxing, but as has been the mantra for this trip, I decided to roll with it, and asked these ladies (the two waitresses were a riot…anytime they came by the table, they’d drop another American fact they knew…”Niagra Falls, big wet, no?”….”New York pizza best”) what I should do. 

Go see my boyfriend’s band was the answer.  Tempting, but I figured it was just a way to get me to pay a cover and buy drinks at some bar where  she got a cut.  Not to be cynical, but pretty much every offer in a Bangkok is a way to seperate you from some of your money.  Most are fairly harmless, and it’s not like this is the only place known for scams (liar loans and CDO’s anyone?), so mostly you just roll with it.

In this case though, it turned out to be scam-free.  I went over to this outdoor spot and listened (for free) to these guys play music I couldn’t understand, but thoroughly enjoyed. 

 

And if the Manilans thought my kareoke singing was bad, well, there’s a crowd of Bangkokians who can attest that my dancing may actually be worse. 

 –I haven’t given up on the Thai boxing though…I fly to Paris from here so I plan on seeing them then.  This time though, I think I ‘ll buy the ticket ahead of time.