Where's Scott?

Bangkok sure feels different. Last time I was here I was 12, and I remember clearly the dirty chaotic streets filled with bicycles, motorbikes and tuk-tuks, barely paved, dirty and real. The new Bangkok’s much closer to Kuala Lumpur – roads are paved, traffic is hell and mostly cars, super-malls dot the landscape, clean(er), air-conditioned and modern. There’s still a taste of the old town, tuk-tuks are still popular (basically motorcycles pulling covered seats), and the stacks of old concrete cube houses can be spotted between the gleaming skyscrapers, but with raised motorways and skytrains weaving between 60 story towers, it’s hard to visualize the old city.

I attempt to escape the downtown, and head to the weekend market at Mo Chit. It’s far enough from the high rent district to be a true flea market. Everything can be had here: silk ties, live snakes, ivory antiques, unidentifiable street food (I find one marked octopus eggs), even overpriced espresso ($6! Ha!). The place is teaming, mostly locals, a few western men with trophy Thai girls on their arms (though the men are much younger than those in the Philippines), and token number of misc (Malays in colorful head-scarves, French couples haggling poorly).

And the clothes, everywhere name brand knockoffs, piled high, crowds jamming the space between the stalls until you can’t move, digging through the racks, haggling over a few baht. I feel tall again here, very tall. Despite being able to see over everyone, I get completely lost, unable to move forward or back at any speed in the mass of people, the 30C temperature finally starts to feel hot. There are some tables at one of the open air crossroads, and I decide to grab some street food. The buffet is a staggered mountain of pots with all manner of “things in sauce.” Things because I have no idea what in there, but I pile it on a plate with rice and enjoy a tear-your-guts-out spicy meal. I sweat fire, and love it – and try not to think of the price I’ll pay later… hell, it’s worth it.