Tuk, Tuk, Goosed!

There is a scene in Ong Bak:The Thai Warrior, that fitfully demonstrates the superior handling, tight cornering and overall maneuverability that defines the TukTuk experience. Despite the seemingly contradictory nature of this statement, I can personally attest that TukTuks are much, much, less safer than that video shows.

Fortunately, they are the predominant form of transportation here in Bangkok. But don't worry Mom, I wouldn't take such a serious travel risk when there is a much better option available.

Pictured: A much better option.

They typically have an extra helmet stashed away, though I am not even going to try and guess where. They sometimes fit, too.

Not only is it a blast traveling by motorbike through a smokey, humid, gridlocked city where buses, cars, trailer trucks, motorcycles and pedestrians all jockey for position, but it's also dirt cheap. Plus, they have the added bonus of being able to narrowly squeeze between all of the other traffic. You need only only make sure to keep your arms by you side when they suddenly goose the engine for a gap, iffin' you prefer to literally keep your arms by your side. Walking is sometimes preferable.

Chinatown was a great place to start. I figured I knew what I was getting into, having visited similar cultural regions in New York, San Francisco, Auckland and the like. Well, I was in for a surprise. You know that awesome greasy-spoon Chinese dive that's right near your house? The one with the open kitchen, guys yelling in Mandarin, flames shooting from the sides of their woks as they drip sweat into your lo mein? Good. Now imagine if that scene exploded across six square city blocks. Winding pedestrian markets no wider than a yard are lined with every asian specialty you can imagine: dim sum, mochi, roast duck, fermented things, raw things, scary looking things and things that there are not yet words in the English language to describe. It is fascinating. You've heard of ugly fruit, right? Well they have downright dangerous fruit, laden with thorns so sharp and rigid that with a small length of chain and a wooden handle you could easily fashion some manner of medieval mace.   

"Halt! Or thou shalt taste a nutrient rich death!"

And far be it from me to reinforce a racial stereotype but I think I finally figured out why Asians are so damn small. You could easily fit three of them abreast in lanes that could not host the carriage of a single Houston housewife.

Further afield, I found myself on the infamous Kho Sahn road, known chiefly for the throngs of foreign backpackers that flock there. In Alex Garland's brilliant novel, The Beach, (a fantastic read for any serious traveler) he accurately describes Kho Sahn as a hollow portal through which every young traveler will pass. It is a ghastly site. A mesh of cables and telephone wires criss-cross above a solid block of touts and louts, hawking everything from "designer" suits to "authentic" pad thai, as American music spills out of the bars into the crowded lane, washing over clueless foreigners who seem to think they are in Bangkok but are at least eight blocks away from it. Besides, I didn't have the requisite assortment of tattoos, piercings, dreadlocks, or hemp clothing that is the apparent hallmark of young "adventure" travelers. In my humble opinion, if the only locals you see are on the other side of the stalls trying to sell you a discount tour package that eventually lands you a cousin's amulet market, you probably are in the wrong part of town.

"Any last requests Jimminy? Didn't think so."

So far, so good. Bangkok is a great time and new adventures are always just around the corner. Try the cricket. A bit crunchy, a bit salty, but surprisingly edible. Cheers.