(I wrote this piece for the 27 August edition of Guru, the weekly entertainment magazine appearing in the Bangkok Post.)
The smoky taste of satay fresh off the grill...a peacock-blue sari drifting by...a muezzin's call to prayer ringing out over rooftops...the stench of rubbish rotting in the heat. Would anyone dispute that Bangkok offers a feast for the senses? Love it or hate it, this wacky city stimulates -- and sometimes, assaults -- our sensory perception like few in the West can.
Certainly not the southern U.S. cities where I’ve spent this summer. Not all khon farang can visit their parents as often as they’d like, so I feel lucky to have this opportunity. Catching up with family and friends (and driving a car again!) have been extraordinarily fun.
But... (you knew a “but” was lurking around the corner, didn’t you?) by now, my last week States-side, I’m starting to feel a bit lulled into numbness by the same orderly atmosphere I’d often craved last spring while edging my way along Bangkok’s crowded, broken sidewalks or holding my breath as a fume-belching bus trundled past. Six weeks on, my parents’ town is starting to feel somewhat...antiseptic. Shrink-wrapped. Predictable. As bland as the hothouse fruit on offer at the supermarkets.
I’ll try to remember that the next time the fruit truck dude wakes me with his loudspeaker, hawking, say, pineapples and papaya -- fruit which, if I hustle my butt out there in time to catch the truck, never fail to burst with flavour. In the States, milk floats have gone the way of the dodo. How awesome is it to have delicious food simply arrive, unbidden but routinely, at your door? Not to mention the legions of street vendors whipping up fantastic snacks and meals along countless Bangkok sois.
This summer has proved to be invaluably eye-opening. I aim, after returning, to savour the city’s phantasmagoric pleasures instead of dwelling upon its defects. I’ll try to relish how Bangkok delights all five of the senses rather than get dragged down by how it taxes them. Every single sensory insult (like, ammonia reeking from a dark corner claimed by nearby motosai-taxi drivers as their loo) is balanced out by many pleasant instances of the same sense (fragrance of night-blooming jasmine, aroma of a bubbling curry, the eucalyptus “wake-up” of a foot massage shop, wisps of incense from a spirit house).
The ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle, who valued knowledge gleaned from experience, was the first person on record to classify the human senses of sight, hearing, touch, smell, and taste. (I hadn’t known until seeing his Wikipedia entry that as well as philosophy, Aristotle wrote books on physics, poetry, zoology, biology, education, literature, and foreign customs. What a slacker.) I wonder what he would have thought of Bangkok’s festival of sensations. Perhaps he would have spent less time being brilliant and more time merely enjoying himself.
We learn about the five senses as school children (and about the sixth one as we morph into Bruce Willis fans). My own research leads to the conclusion that Bangkok can add “Sensory Extravaganza Hub” to its ever-growing list of things for which it’s a hub. Anyone disputing the claim should plant himself on even-numbered side of Thanon Silom, near the Saladaeng BTS station, of a Saturday evening. Or near the clock tower at JJ around lunchtime at the weekend. Or at the Flower Market before dawn. Or in Chinatown over the Lunar New Year. Or...
All right, all right, let’s get more specific about how Bangkok totally crushes the competition in the sensory department:
Sight. Sure, most of the office buildings and high-rise condos are drab slabs or impersonal, shiny Singapore knockoffs. But how much time do we spend staring at those, when closer to eye-level swirls a visual feast? Saffron monks’ robes, a kaleidoscope of flowers, vehicles covered with garish murals, clothing made from brightly coloured Thai silk, intricate fruit carving, the famous Thai smile. The khon Thai doing the smiling are an extraordinarily attractive people, thanks partly to physical characteristics and partly to high standards for grooming and fashion. Thai people’s beauty transcends social barriers; you’d find just as many staggeringly gorgeous smiles in a Khon Kaen coffee shop as you would in Siam Paragon. What I wouldn’t do to have a mane of thick, jet-black Thai tresses instead of my frizzy ’do...Well, at least I can enjoy seeing nice hair everywhere.
Hearing. The cacophony of hypermarkets and the din of traffic first spring to mind, rising many khon farang’s blood pressures to dangerous levels. But let’s not forget certain auditory treats. Most significantly, the National Anthem at 8a.m. and 6p.m. makes us pause, khon Thai and foreigner alike, to reflect on our good fortune to be subjects of or guests in the Kingdom. In between, radios, MP3s, and CDs galore spoil us for choice when designing a soundtrack for our lives. You never know when you might pass a motosai taxi-jockey strumming a guitar, or a couple of sedentary mates trilling a tune while watching the world pass by. When all else fails, the whimsical singsong of the ice cream cart can take you on a trip down memory lane to your own childhood (sometimes more often in one afternoon than you’d like, but mai bpen rai). Occasionally, off the beaten urban path, you can even discern the lyrical cry of various birds.
Touch. Two words: Foot massage. Well, actually, any kind of massage. You get the idea. And how about getting your hair cut at a salon? The best part is when they shampoo your hair and massage your scalp for ages. I had no idea the scalp has so many nerve endings until my first Thai shampoo. (For examples of sating one’s sense of touch in a more risque way, please see www.mangosauce.com and www.stickmanbangkok.com. I can’t speak to it myself, having been Sadie-Sadie-married-lady throughout my tenure here, but these sites seem to cover the scene in an unflinching and humorous manner.)
Smell. Culinary aromas and floral fragrances easily defeat their stinky khlong and traffic competition. When traffic fumes seem overwhelming, you can buy a phuong malai and sniff its sweet scent to combat the foul air. One can’t stroll far before frying garlic or grilling meats announce themselves. On one hand, these smells offer the security of knowing that delicious, reasonably priced food is always nearby; on the other hand, tempting street side fare makes it difficult to stay on task and not wile away the hours noshing. Which would be an appealing prospect, no doubt, were it not for the fact that I’d turn into a whale...albeit a happy, well-fed one. (How do so many snack-happy khon Thais keep so slim?! Gimme some of those genes, please!) Which makes a perfect segue into the last (but my favourite) sense...
Taste. Ah, where to start? Food, glorious food! Hot, sweet, salty, sour, and even bitter flavours harmonise in Thai dishes to make the most delectable of cuisines. From humble shop house bamee nam, to sophisticated hotel dining, Thai food is best in the world, hands down. Folks suffering from the affliction of not fancying Thai victuals, however, need not go hungry. In the mood for Egyptian ful? No problem. Longing for Ethiopian injera? Yes, sir. Dreaming of a Swedish smorgasbord? Ja, man. You crave it, you can get it in Bangkok. (Except DiGiorno’s frozen pizza, but who could pine for it when Central Chidlom’s FoodLoft and Sukhumvit Soi 33’s Basilico boast the best dang pizza this side of Napoli?)
British naturalist David Attenborough once whinged that, “Getting to places like Bangkok or Singapore was a hell of a sweat. But when you got there it was the back of beyond. It was just a series of small tin sheds.” How’s that? What did he mean, “just” small tin sheds? They may have been humble, but I’d wager that passers-by would see beautiful children puttering about, hear melodies of laughter and luk thung, and detect the enticing aroma of garlic and spices floating on the evening air. “Just” small tin sheds, indeed.
