Wallowing in the River (Part 1)
The wooden canoe glided over the vast river, ashen-hued from the cumulous monsoon clouds casting over the lofty skyscrapers. Behind the acacia shades yonder, the golden stupas of Wat Arun glimmered, bearing the glorious vestige of the Ayutthaya Kingdom. The smoky smell of cassava fuel emitting from the canoe, woven with the pungent petrichor carried from the river's lush banks, followed the widening ripples. "Sawadeekha," I whispered while tossing the bread crumbs to the schools of catfish wallowing in waters, following a Thai tradition of praying for good luck. As soon as the first bread crumbs were tossed, the fish gathered like frenzied crowds. The lithe catfish tracing their whiskers, the plump carps snapping the largest crumbs, along the plump basa fish splashing their silvery tails, sketched an endlessly vivacious life portrait in the waters. Just a sudden, I returned to my eight-year-old self, marvelling for the first time at the grandiose Chao Phraya River creating history through Bangkok, Thailand.
One early August morning, I was furiously typing the introduction paragraph for some random article when my little sister shrieked: "We're heading to Thailand!" Her energy was contagious; for the next few days, I couldn't contain my joy despite the heaps of emails from my university reminding the upcoming doom in September. On Saturday, I hauled my luggage to Tan Son Nhat airport, and off we went to the land of elephants and golden pagodas, where I had my first trip abroad ten years ago. Eyeing the bushes growing along the runways, I groggily sipped some tea, the result of an almost sleepless night. After one hour of incessant replays of Enrique Iglesias, I gazed down the airplane window, underneath which green carpets of paddy fields stretched to the horizon. When the thunder of the wheels hitting the runway of Suvarnabhumi Airport woke me up, I had to resist the urge to scream at the top of my lungs. Parting is such sweet sorrow, for it sweetens reunion evermore.
The airport was far more ginormous than appeared in my memory. As if the pandemic had never happened, flocks of passengers from every corner of the world filled the lotus-shaped terminals, gliding through endless walkways. It was hard to fathom that before COVID-19, the airport received over 58 million passengers every year, with figures still rising. Despite the seemingly mile-long lines, just short of half an hour after landing, I was already making a beeline for the airport food outlet. To my surprise, the old noodles stall, where I had my first pad dish ever, still stood out with its neon billboard among the crowds of hungry passengers. I purchased a loading card for 100 baht (CAD 3.83) for getting lunch at the countless stalls in the airport arrival terminal. Bangkok greeted me with a hefty dish of son tam (Thai papaya salad), a zesty salad made of thinly sliced raw papaya, chilly, and herbs, drizzled with fish sauce and topped with crunchy fried chicken skin. From the service counter, I could marvel at the tiny cook pounding roasted peanuts with a huge wooden mortar while swiftly adding eye-watering chilli slices to the papaya. The wondrous meal was topped with a cup of saccharine coconut ice cream, following a few bites from the chewy peanut pad noodles. After lunch, my family met with our tour guides, a Vietnamese guide and a local Thai guide, the latter of whom, to my amazement, spoke Vietnamese flawlessly, promising an unforgettable trip for the 21 eager tourists in our group.
From the bus window, the streets of Bangkok bore a remarkable resemblance to Saigon, with its hectic streams of motorcycles and clustered colourful neon billboards in front of cookie-cutter house lots. Although we landed in Bangkok, our tour group headed to Pattaya, a coastal city about 100km southeast of Bangkok. Passing an endless stretch of bushy highways, I could see intricate golden shrines worshipping Phra Phrom, the Thai representation of the Hindu god Brahma, who is also worshipped by Buddhists. Our first stop was the Pattaya Floating Market, a market established on a man-made lagoon in 2008. From afar, I could recognize one of the top attractions in Pattaya by the enormous wooden boat protruding on the side of the main entrance. After paying respect to the shrines of Buddha and the late kings of Thailand, I entered a vast outdoor platform. Chattering groups of tourists worldwide stood packed like anchovies, while groups of local families enjoying a simple weekend strolled around the wooden walkway circling the moats. The tantalizing aroma of street food stalls a myriad of dishes - from spicy octopus and chewy palmyra palm bites to mango sticky rice (Thailand's world-celebrated dessert made from coconut milk-steamed sticky rice and fresh mango slices) - filled the humid air. Inside the intricately carved longhouses were traditional artisan stores selling fruit-shaped soap bars and souvenirs contained in rattan baskets lining up the walkways.
After a while of watching the ornate sampans gliding, I left the market with a brain-freezing durian smoothie and pandan palmyra juice, completely recharged from the long trip. The day ended with a spectacular cabaret show at The Colosseum Pattaya, then a sumptuous dinner at a nearby local restaurant. Pattaya at night was truly a wonder to behold, with motorcycles roaring the streets while bright-lit food carts were clustered with enthusiastic late-night diners sitting on Formica chairs. Still, traces of a sleepy coastal town remained, with gated houses tangled in lofty bunches of fishing nets at the front yard. The bustling city was endearingly familiar, carrying the atmosphere of Saigon over eight hundred kilometres, yet there was a hint of novelty on every step. Just a few blocks away from the hotel we stayed, I could indulge myself in the magical food scene. With a bag of numbingly spicy salted mango, I wandered the streets of Pattaya until my feet sored and my body longed for a dreamless sleep.
The next day, we visited the Pattaya Gem Gallery where masterpieces carved from ruby, quartz, and the like shone radiantly along the dark hallways. Out of all the pieces, the most magnificent one was the portrait of King Rama IX, who stood ramrod straight in his gemstone-embossed royal cloak with a dignified transcending the time. After admiring the blitz in the gallery, my eyes were put to rest at a session of the renowned traditional Thai massage. We put on comfy pyjamas, then lay down on eucalyptus-scented mattresses in a breezy dark room. For the next 45 minutes, the skilled hands of the massage practitioners rhythmically stretched and rocked our tendons and limbs to achieve harmonic pressure (the session seemed to work wonders with the aunties in my group, yet had the reverse effect on me). After a visit to the SD Latex factory in Chonburi (and almost fell asleep on at least five different mattress beds), we arrived at Khao Chi Chan when the sun was more than halfway through the zenith of the mountain ranges of Chonburi. From afar, I could spot the glimmering lines of the gold image of Lord Buddha on the limestone hill. The largest carved Buddha image in the world looked even more majestic, with the last sunlight illuminating the gold rims. Circling the lush tropical garden maintained by the Royal Thai Navy, I could pray my respects to Lord Buddha and use the nearby telescope to see His ancient remains in a golden stupa near the top of the hill. Time seemed to freeze as I scanned the entire hillside - then held my breath when I spotted a shiny leaf-like structure near the image’s kayasa. Whether I had the honour to catch sight of the stupa, it was an enlightening experience to set foot here, at the holy hillside as dusk started painting the clouds in lemon yellow...
To be continued...
(Update: On September 8, 2023, I was heartbroken to find that Pattaya Floating Market was destroyed in fires, damaging over 14,4000 square meters and nearly $2 million. My thoughts and prayers to the people affected.)
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