Chasing Waves – South East Asia / Bangkok to the Andaman
Bangkok at 4 45 a.m. was likened to that of a slack tide. That moment in time when things were neither coming nor going but remained somewhat still and at the ready for an opposing shift in energy to come. For this city of 9.5 million people, it was a time when the nocturnal creatures were preparing for retreat while those that thrived in daylight were just starting to roll about in the still air. I had decided to book a hotel in down town Sukhumvit for a night just to say hello to the "City of Angels" and to decompress off the long flight.
By 7 am I was sitting road side enjoying a coffee handed to me by a Turkish migrant named Berkay. After offering me the beverage, he proceeded to flex his well-developed biceps while reaching up towards the heavens and claimed “my name means strong like the moon”. He and his Thai partner were suddenly very busy tending to the gathering pedestrians who stood back lit by a shaft of bright morning sunlight coated with a smoky caldron of carbon monoxide and a fresh roasted coffee mist.
Within my momentary bubble of solitude, I took a few moments to ponder on modern travel and its impact on ones psyche. Recognition of the marvel and appreciation, however small, was needed for the reason that to be able to experience two totally different cultures of the world, and in as many days, was indeed a privileged.
As the maze within the haze continued and at an ever escalating pace, I thought back on something Pops had once said about being able to define a given culture by the way it conducted itself on the roads. As my attention fell out onto the broad roadway of congestion, the predictable functionality of how the traffic worked in the west was apparently absent. Instead it was replaced by a continuous snake like stream of Honda motor bikes that maneuvered in and around the clogged traffic of cars and buses. The climbing of curbs and cutting over and through every direction possible was the natural conduct here. A social model of frantic disjointed connectivity that somehow was working was on full display.
Within thirty minutes of my street side observation, I was offered a free passage on board cruise line to play a part in a black jack swindle against Chinese nationals, was offered “short time” by an attractive Thai lady, and hounded by a desperate Brit asking if I would kindly sit in on some spiel dealing in time share condo rentals.
An afternoon spent in the back streets of China town let me know the experience was a one off. The grind of humanity was playing itself out and the surging biomass that I found myself part of was stifling at best. Vendors selling fruit, vendors selling belt buckles, vendors selling plastic plants, vendors selling every possible thing known to man was all happening here and in the now. A constant collision of deliveries’ was being pushed in every direction on every mode of transport. Sidewalks adorned with scraps of blue plastic canvas showcased sandals with tooth brushes, woman’s bras, and tiny Buddha amulets.
In the next stall, a toothless old timer was perched in a rickety old bamboo chair. As if on guard and placed just to the inside of a cavity that was the size of a shipping container, he sat stone faced with eyes that registered with life and paced from the left to the right and back again. Behind him on full display looked to be three or four generations worth of accumulated clutter. He was one of millions that stared out daily, out through his peep hole of an existence, to a world of endless circulating madness.
I needed a refuge and within a half hour, I stood within a place of calming energy. The dividing line between the outside chaos and that of spender was all of a meter in distance. This was Sathira Dhammasathan, a refuge for abused and battered woman but home to anyone who needed some time away from the outside world. It was a sanctuary, a holy place where people from all walks of life were welcome and came to meditate and consume the high energy of pure love.
During the late evening street side meal of Som Tam and Pad Thai and among the growing push of yet a different kind of humanity, I looked forwards to moving on and leaving the city. My next destination was south to Phuket where I would be meeting Bix who promised a good surf was on tap.
