Back to the hotel

After a bit more wandering round the Siam Square area, we got into a taxi to go back to the hotel. We asked the driver to take us to the Radisson.

- Where?
- The Radisson, Rama 9 – do you know it
Mutters. Puts his foot down angrily. Jerks to a halt.
We pass him the card the doorman gave us from the hotel.
- I know. I know.
Does a U turn. Foot down. Screeches to another halt and turns off the ignition. The traffic lights stay red for 10 minutes. This is quite normal in Bangkok.
We sit in silence for a while until the driver tries his luck:
- 150 Baht OK?
- No, meter please.
No answer.
We watch the street scene outside. 6 or 7 monks dressed in orange robes pass us and walk up the stairs and cross over the footbridge. Down they come the other side. 4 of them get into an orange taxi. So much orange.

When we get back to the hotel, it’s too early to sleep and we remember that have a voucher for a free welcome drink and head up to the bar on the top floor. It’s a large elaborately decorated place and completely empty. We think about making a hasty retreat when a cocktail waitress spots us and we are too nice to run away. One drink won’t hurt.

The free drink is super sweet and alcohol free. A clever technique for making you buy a second drink (which we do) and before you know it, you make a night of it (which we don’t). The band get ready to play and it seems rude to walk out now, so we sit through a few cheesy numbers sung just slightly out of tune. The lead singer is quite a character. He takes his performance of My Way very seriously. By now at least we aren’t the only customers any more. There is a table of Thai businessmen who order two large bottles of scotch and two buckets of ice. This gives one of them, the boss we guess, the courage to request the microphone and sing a few Thai ballads. We clap politely and think about leaving but think it might be a bit rude to leave mid show so we wait until the break. My good manners will be the death of me.

Siam Square

We learned that there was a shuttle bus (to somewhere) leaving on the hour so we went down and joined the group of people already waiting.

“Where do you want to go?” asked the attendant
David and I looked at each other. We hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“I don’t know”. I say “An MRT station?” I remembered too late that MRT is in Singapore, not Bangkok “Siam Square or somewhere?”.
The attendant looked back at me puzzled
“Haven’t you got a Lonely Planet book or something?”
“Um, no”

I didn’t add that I didn’t feel the need to get one as we have been to Bangkok loads of times and are only passing through this time. Anyway, he smiled and helped us into the minibus and even gave us a card with information on how to get back to the hotel in Thai to give taxi drivers later.

We weren’t actually that far away from the centre of the city as it turned out as 20 minutes later we were dropped of at the MBR Centre in Siam Square. I had been in there before, but it was David’s first time. It’s an enormous, bustling, noisy, confusing, rundown city of a mall. Loads of floors containing shops, stalls, massage parlours and food stands. We were hungry so headed for the well signposted foodcourt on the 4th floor. They give you a plastic card when you enter and each time you choose something from one of the stands, the staff do something to your card and then you pay at the end. I love these places as you can have all sort of bits and pieces from different stands. We went for tom yum kung each and a papaya salad to share. We also chose a fresh juice each. I had forgotten how good the juices are in Thailand – great for soothing chili-burnt mouths. It was a fairly smart place and almost all of the customers were foreign. On previous visits, he had managed to find food courts that ordinary Thais went to. We found one of these on the floor above and stopped for lab (spicy minced pork), green curry and more later on.

In between these bouts of eating, I stopped at a beauty shop for a well overdue manicure and pedicure while David joined the people in the row of hospital beds getting massages. I had a window seat to do some people watching. There really are some phenomenally badly dressed foreigners wandering around Bangkok. One guy in a string vest sporting a mullet came into for a massage and was ushered to the bed next to David. I haven’t seen a mullet since the early 90s – where on earth was he from?

Arriving in Bangkok

We have been to Thailand so many times so I am wondering whether I will be able to blog about it with a fresh eye…. Here goes….

We had already booked the Radisson Hotel online. Does having the Internet means that there will be no more adventure travel for us? Anyway, it was nice to feel pampered and have people carry our bags for us and call us Sir / Madam / Dr.Mynard / Dr.McLoughlin – this never happens in Japan. We took a London taxi from the airport to our hotel – seriously, we did! There is a company that makes them for export. There is also a new airport in Bangkok. I remember landing in the old one located right in the city. You come out of the airport and sit almost stationary in traffic jams for an hour. The new one is located out of town and linked to Bangkok by an expressway. Here’s the drill: you come out of the airport, pick a lane, go as fast as you can until something gets in your way, switch lanes and repeat until it is time for you to turn off.

When we arrived, they told us that there were only smoking doubles available or a non-smoking single. I told them it was our anniversary (it was!) and could they upgrade us. They did! Always worth asking J The deluxe room was lovely, if slightly cheesy. The hotel has a large pool area overlooking the expressway.

Catching up after the summer

It's Sunday 14th September and I am back in Japan after 6 weeks away. A lot has happened and I have only kept a sporadic diary but I will post snippets from it today in case anyone is interested.

A quick trim

I just got my haircut (not that you would notice – it still looks a mess). I always put it off for as long as possible in Japan because I find the whole process really irritating. Here are the problems:

1. It’s hard to explain exactly what you want in another language

2. You need to go armed with a picture to show the stylist. Unfortunately, Japanese hair magazines are somewhat uninspiring – all the styles look the same. None of them flattering on me.

3. The stylists always take AGES! Tonight I purposely asked for a “quick trim”. Emphasis on QUICK. I was in there an hour and I didn’t even get a shampoo or anything.

4. They always ask me loads of stupid questions (that to be honest I don’t understand properly). They seem to be asking me how to cut hair…. Why don’t they just get on with it?

5. When you get your hair washed, they place a paper towel over your face so that you can’t see anything. Why do they do that?

6. The hairdryers are painfully slow because of the voltage. The stylists usually have them on cool so that it takes even longer.

7. The stylists basically cut one or two hairs at a time and then stand back to make sure it matches the other side. This quickly gets annoying.

8. Every time you move from your seat (to the wash basin or what ever) everyone chimes in with “Otsu kara sama deshita” (good job). I don’t understand why they do this.

9. They make a big deal about the loyalty point card. As a returning customer, (why oh why?) I got a 150 yen discount tonight….. roughly 70p.

This cut should last me until I get to Wales when I will go running to Lorna, the hairdresser I have had since I was a child. Lorna knows exactly what to do with my hair and remembers every style I have ever had including that groovy perm she gave me back in 1983.

Please do it at home (2)

Another poster from the Tokyo Metro - "Please be careful of noise leaking from your headphones in the train." Would that be noise in liquid form?