PART ONE: The Orient > Bangkok

   

17 August Saturday &Hong Kong to Bangkok
Another traveling day, expensive, but especially exciting because this one was to another country. The day began with the usual checkout and taxi to the airport, the wait and exchange of money. The two hour flight on Singapore Airlines was passed in pleasant topical conversation with an Israeli. He had been an agricultural advisor in Korea and was traveling home by way of several stops with his wife and 2 daughters.

Bangkok airport immigration and customs was efficient with a touch of shabbiness — not the starched efficiency of Tokyo or Hong Kong. It occurred to me that unlike those places, Thailand was not of special world importance as a trade center or powerful as prosperous Japan. It is only a country, trying to get along, to gets its share of the tourist trade buck, to survive in a tenuous world.

Like Hong Kong and perhaps a bit more so, the hustlers are here: at the airport hustling hotels and tours with an uncomfortable, unattractive pressure. The van ride from the airport on a dreary, drizzly day through gray, ugly streets past muddy black canals, seeing muddy black cars, reinforced the first impression.

We walked near our hotel down streets past flower vendors passing several restaurants which were really no more than stores in rundown buildings with a few metal tables and stools and meat and rice which did not look inviting. Finally, throwing caution from our stomachs we entered one and haltingly ordered rice and meat, the simple hearty dish of many countries. Two elderly French ladies sat across and much of our nervousness left.

We walked then deeper into the market, the weekend market where tents were laid out on a large fairground and merchants sold their wares; food, household goods, and everything else. In a circle, a pitchman did magic and illusions and did his spiel for a lotion — a ritual which transcends language and is as universal as, if not as old as, religious rituals.
We returned to our hotel slightly depressed by the rain, the heat, the huckstering, the time change, the uncomfortable feeling of being pigeons. A nap between fresh sheets lightened the air and dinner in a local restaurant and fruit and ice cream brought us all the way back.

18 August Sunday - Bangkok
This was another day that reenforced my first impression: the temples, Wat Phra Keo— emerald Buddha); Wat Po—reclining Buddha; Wat Trimir—gold Buddha; are magnificent structures and presences but are not kept in as good repair as those in Japan. They lie in areas of squalor and near streets that are filthy, mean and smell of car and bus fumes. The luxury of pollution control of vehicles or the many klongs (canals) is unheard of; though the army which sure seem to be well enough equipped. Tonight may or may not renew our vigor: we splurge on Thai dinner and classical dancing show.

Remarkably the dinner and dancing were superb; both rich and sumptuous—it made us realize how much you miss by not going first class—it is the choice that is important—if one is rich he may go any way he wishes, but poor or budgeted as we are means our choices are limited and it is a shame because we miss a lot, but not more than many tourists who goes only first class and blind themselves to anything else. We know lots of people who travel and see only the insides of Hiltons, eat only hamburgers when abroad, speak only to those they came with. No matter what the hassles, we go our own way.

19 August Monday Through 21 August Wednesday BangkokBangkok is getting better: this morning we spent our second day sector enjoyably (our days must be divided into pieces: morning / lunch / afternoon / dinner / evening. By that measure we have well spent 3 sections in a row because dinner and the dancing later were a delight.
21 August: On Monday morning we were awakened at 6 so that we could sleepily dress, hop a bus to the landing pier. From there our party boarded a boat which was shaped somewhat like a banana, abroad flat bow and stern and wider in the middle, curving gently from fore to aft toward the water line like a banana. A canvas covered the riders. The helmsman sat at the rear and expertly operated the loud vibrating engine.

Our boat entered the main channel of the Chao Phrya river and chunked rapidly through muddy brown water. Soon we passed a flotilla of Thai Navy patrol and gunboats painted gray and at anchor. Throughout our voyage, long slim graceful boats raced past ours in each direction, their huge hydroplane engines blasting—the tilted propellers kicking up rooster tails. As we went on, past large barrel shaped cargo boats, smaller canoes, and kayaks, ours moved into another channel and soon we were in the “front yards” of many houses which are built at the edge and over the edges of the river.

The atmosphere conjured up a scene out of a Maugham story as children, brown skin shiny and excited, swam and played in the water. People bathed, brushed their teeth, washed clothes, dishes and food in the river. As the jungle of breadfruit and coconut palms lay behind the houses, it was clear that the river was the only source of water for these houses. It was uniformly brown and brackish, garbage floated on its turbulent surface.
Yet everywhere, boys’ heads bobbed among the debris. Two hitched onto our boat and grabbed the bow as we skimmed by, a neatly timed feat which reminded me of my rides with my friends on the backs of buses on Coney Island Ave. Once aboard the boat, the boys begged “one baht, two baht” for which they were gently rebuked by our guide, who is an ingratiating likeable little hustler. Not wanting to make a scene before the Western customers, he tried to gently push them over the side. One dropped but the other deftly caught the stern and sat there smiling to the delight of the passengers. Seeing our amusement, the guide let the boy stay on. He spoke to him in Thai and though we could not understand the words, it was clear by his manner that he felt warmly towards these boys. Maybe he saw himself as a boy when the hustling was a game and fun more important than scratching a living.

baangkok temple rubbing

We chunked past endless houses, wood frames which the river, now churning with many boats, lapped against. Finally some more twists and we were at the Floating Market, which is the big attraction. A few kayaks paddled by, women seated behind loads of fruit and vegetables. Our guide said that up to 10 years ago the channel was filled each morning with such boats from all over the country; but roads were built (by Americans) and this was all that was left—just some old women there for the tourists.

The next two days passed in a blur. We went to the Temple of the Dawn, and to a snake farm where they milk venom from snakes. Later when we wanted to go to the American Hospital to get cholera shots, needed for India, the guide who hangs around the hotel arranging tours and promises to satisfy any other need or desire, offered to get us a bargain for the shots— at the snake farm. We did not like the image, and decided not to bargain for this one item on our agenda.

Traveling around the city is difficult. Taxis which are all ramshackle, pretty much resist using meters, and try to bargain for every trip, leading to a clear impression that they are soaking you either way but what they really want to do is pocket the money without recording any mileage. Shopping is difficult because of the uncertainty that any quoted price is legit.

Bangkok, we decide, is mostly a disappointment, shabby and difficult, sad and dreary. A victim of the corruption of modern money. We are excited with nervous anticipation about our next stop, India.

PART ONE: THE ORIENT> Hong Kong

13 August Tuesday Hong Kong
To borrow a phrase from the chaps who run this place, Hong Kong is a bloody amazing city. It has the natural beauty of its setting: a finger of land from China jutting into the bay and pointing to an island whose first few acres are flat but which quickly slants up to hills and then mountains.

Speculators have poured onto this land money from every nation, hoping to harvest it many times over in the warm, moist climate and strategic location. The money has taken form in skyscrapers which house banks because of all the goods sold here (and everything is for sale here) money is the greatest commodity. People talk of the rise and fall of its value the way a Minnesotan talks of milk prices, or a Texan of oil. Even the communist Chinese who could end all the magnificence with a whisper of Mao's austere voice choose instead to participate in the trading. Because money is the blood of trade and they must have trade to survive, one sees here the “Bank of Communist China”, a somehow paradoxical title when one associates “bank” with capitalism. Everywhere there are markets and shops selling "made in China" products.
The smells come from the shops and food stalls of the Chinese immigrants poor beyond our imagination, from tenements a New York rat would turn up his filthy nose at. Yet, they too trade and sell continuously because to cease to sell is to die.

14 August Hong Kong
The weather turned the city into a new and exciting visual experience and our choice of adventure was perfect for its mood. Overnight, a storm had blown in bringing rain and chilly gusts of wind to fan the steamy air. The sky was turbulently grey with layers of clouds swirling by like smoke. We walked to the Yue Hwa department store which sells Red Chinese products. Most furniture was shoddily made imitations of western styles and even the Chinese work— boxes and trunks intricately carved but haphazardly lacquered and tooled.
We had “English lunch” of soup, rice, tough meat and chips, ice cream and tea in the restaurant of the stately Palace Hotel. We then began our day. Our tour took us to the heights of wealth on Victoria Peak with a (literally on this blustery day) breathtaking view of Hong Kong, the harbor and Kowloon with the wind whipping clouds of every shade of gray, the sun whitening through every now and then, cliches are insufficient. The public but picturesque beach and exclusive cliff mansions of Repulse Bay were calming in bittersweet contrast to the water tenements of Aberdeen fishing village which I think is a public relations euphemism for a slum where people live out there lives on dingy junks, often never setting foot on land for the course of their lives, so they say.
Here, upward mobility means only that the poor on the water may look up the mountain and see the shopkeepers on the waterfront, then the residents of the government low-cost housing with its wash hanging from the windows, then the upper middle class still higher on the hill and near the top, the exclusive and very private mansions of the executives and high government officials.
At night we ate in a fancy Chinese restaurant near Nathan Road and celebrated Bea's birthday with a romantic dinner.

15 August Hong Kong
Today's highlight was shopping for a ring for Bea. We went to the Communist China department store Yue Hwa, several branches, and Bea could see nothing she really liked for anything near the price we were willing to shell out. Eventually after stopping in at several of the thousands of jewelry stores which lie shoulder to shoulder on almost every street, we made our way up to “Ladder” and “Cat” Streets. The latter is called by the English “Upper Lascar Row.” There we lit in one of the more reputable looking of the many dealers in curios - one where we had been the day before and where we has seen an interesting ring. When we entered we sat before the jewel case and proceeded with the bargaining. We started at $100HK, he at 250. The banter was friendly and amusing. In the end we paid $162.50HK ($32US.). For what was guaranteed to be 150 year old amber cut in Peking and set in 18K gold. It is a fine looking ring, anyway.
The afternoon was spent trekking to Wanchai which is an older and seedier version of the glitter of Nathan Road. It fits the picture of a naval port o' call. Strip joints, gaudiness, tattoo parlors. We ate a good Chinese dinner, tried braised sea slugs which were pretty awful.

We visited the Tiger Balm Gardens, the bizarre creation of a man who made millions selling Tiger Balm salve, an herbal goop said to be good for all that ails you. The garish religious and folk icons, painted in bright colors, festoon all the walls and nooks of the palatial grounds which span acres.


[Letter by Bea]:

15 August 1974 8:30 PM
Dear Ron and Laura & Sherlock & Shadow & Fred & Ginger ... etc.
We just returned to our cozy little hotel room (air conditioned, thank God!) after an all day excursion—walk, that is—to Hong Kong Island. We’re staying on the Kowloon side but it only takes 7 minutes by ferry to cross the harbor. Our day began very pleasantly with your letter, as well as one from Steve. How glad we were to hear from you. We’re also glad that everything is settling down in your household and that you are getting well....
We enjoyed Kyoto, Beppu and Nara very much. To me, they seemed more like the Japan I had expected—Tokyo was just too big, ugly, crowded and unfriendly. But now that we have left Japan and we can compare it to Hong Kong—I can honestly say that it was not my favorite place. It was just too difficult to deal with the heat, the language barrier and the shlepping. Hong Kong, on the other hand, is fabulous! Much cleaner than I had visualized (they have a clean-up campaign which seems to be working). The harbor view is fabulous what with huge skyscrapers all around you — quite impressive. It’s also very nice to be in one place — one hotel room — without moving around (although we’re doing a lot of walking).
We have been having the most interesting meals—for lunch we had something called Dim Sum or Dum Sim (I’m not really sure which). You sit at a table while women walk around carrying all kinds of things in little bamboo bowls—shrimp and pork wrapped in dough—its really super. For dinner, we’ve had many more different Chinese dishes including eel (which Mort loved). Eating times are great fun because not only do they provide us with adventure, but they also give us entertainment and rest.
Today we bought a ring — with an amber stone — supposedly 150 years old and of the Ching Dynasty — oh well, it’s pretty and a great birthday present. The other night we saw “The Exorcist”. I don’t recommend it unless you want to be scared silly. It was ugly!
Saturday, we are leaving for Bangkok where we will probably spend a week before going to India. So please write to India — Calcutta that is. ... Love, Bea and Mort.

16 August Friday Hong Kong
We awoke late and arranged for our flight out tomorrow, forwarding mail and sending some and spent a leisurely afternoon in Statue Park waiting for our film. We bought a woodblock print after hunting a long time. We had good Chinese food for lunch and dinner.
It is time we were leaving. We have no more to spend and window shopping is painful without a goal. We have eaten many good, cheap meals— mostly Chinese, and have become almost blasé about the view of the harbor. Once more across and back tonight for the mind's eye and some creamy pastry and we will have had it.

Cat Street Amber Ring for B's birthday

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