It feels right to say that the political freedom of a country is usually inversely proportional to the number of billboards and banners you see of its leader.
Perhaps that why we waited until we left Bangkok to point out the most glaring irony of our time in Thailand: that the major boulevard surrounding the capital city’s “Democracy Monument” is littered with massive, gold-framed photos of the king.
But that’s not even the most notable thing about Ratchadamnoen Klang Road. If we’re being honest, the most notable thing about Ratchadamnoen Klang Road is that is that it’s just like Mario Kart. And just like Mario Kart, the bikes always finish first.
In fact, and this is true of every major street in Bangkok, by the time the 150-second stoplights have counted down into the double digits, often much sooner, the mopeds and motorcycles and Tuk Tuks that seem to far outnumber the cars have bobbed and weaved and cut each other off on the way between the cars and the curbs to form a kind of throng at the front of the pack. The anticipation is enough to literally draw some of the bikes forward into incoming traffic, and when one or two brave or daring or numb or outrageous souls deems the window large enough, off they go, bringing the pack with them in a glorious display of whirring and vrrrming and all the other hallmark noises of rapid and then more-gradual acceleration.
If you’ve read either of our previous trip updates (there’s only two) you might remember that Ellie and I have grappled a bit with the challenge of seeing the places we’ve visited as they really are, and not through the rose colored glasses everyone who chooses to travel to a faraway place inevitably brings with them. It’s hard enough when you do want to see the deservedly famous and undeniably beautiful temples, islands, markets, mountains that draw visitors like us here. And the unfailing kindness of the Thai people made it even harder, especially back when Ellie was on crutches (I really buried the lede there. Apologies. She’s walking faster every day!).
First there were the women on Koh Ya Noi who, after giving us massages (mine involved far too much Tiger Balm) dragged Ellie’s bag away from me so that they could help her carry it to our taxi. Then there was the ferry boat driver who tied up his boat, borrowed a motorbike from a friend, and gave Ellie a lift to the end of the massive pier. Then there was Oh, the bartender at The Crazy Horse, a family restaurant next to our hostel in Krabi Thalane. Oh left his brother to tend bar so he could give us a ride home, twice, and insisted we go back if we’re in Thailand again. We will.
If you’re as cynical as I was, you might be thinking all of those people were service workers angling for a tip. As I was, you couldn’t be more wrong. They were just being nice. So nice.
It was all enough that, coupled with our absolute amazement with the stunningly hectic and even more stunningly horn-free roads in Bangkok, Ellie and I were naively wondering how it was possible that there are no traffic accidents amid the chaos, how could every driver be so astute and coordinated that they never lose their balance on a tight merge or their concentration in a stop-and-go lurch.
But then Ellie and I found ourselves on a cross-river ferry as work was letting out, watching the tired and somehow so familiar faces of folks on their commutes home, chatting quietly, scrolling on their phones, listening to music, staring into the void. And then the next morning, on a run, I saw several motorbikes huddled around a man in pain on the ground - the aftermath of an accident. And then that afternoon, outside the biggest mall Ellie and I have ever seen—it turns out seeing Wicked at the mall is best way to see Bangkok like a local—we saw an ambulance fighting the motorbikes we once thought so infallible for room to get through a brutal traffic jam, and losing.
In short, Thailand is a very real place after all, and Ellie and I are learning that sometimes even a block from the street you just can’t miss when you’re in X, is the street you really might regret not seeing (though if you’re ever in Bangkok, you haaaave to ride a Tuk Tuk down Ratchadamnoen Klang Road).
We’re in Cambodia now. The posters of the Prime Minister are much smaller and less prolific here (a counterpoint to my theory, it turns out), and the roads, even in provincial Siem Reap, are just as crazy. Our newfound affinity for wandering led us into a school pickup scene that’s one of our favorites of the trip so far. Ellie’s new go-to food is a local curry called Fish Amok. I just used a no-show’s bib to run in the Angor Wat half marathon (thanks Lisa) where the same PM fired the starting gun. And this afternoon, we’ll finally go see the temples Ellie and I briefly glimpsed before sunrise this morning, which everyone says we can’t miss (I believe them) and where, if anyone asks, we’re still ‘mooning.
