The night-train from Nong Khai back to Bangkok is really cold. The AC is on a level beyond full-blast. When we arrive in Bangkok we both feel sick. Like that feeling of an oncoming cold. Jon, in his weakened state from the food poisoning seems to be faring far worse than I. Once we reach the (exceptionally nice and clean, seriously no joke here) hotel on the outskirts of Bangkok we slump in bed, hoping a day of rest will recuperate us. But all I can think about is how much I'm already looking forward to leaving in a few days.
"Why are you back in Bangkok anyway??" you might be asking yourself. You're so smart. That's what I like most about you. We initially consider traversing the long course down the dragon's tail of Laos to the 1,000 islands... or is it 10,000 islands? Either way it's a lot of islands. The problem, as mentioned, is that our Vietnam visas are blown. But I'm able to conjure up a solution that will get us new visas issued through the end of April for what they initially say is a paltry $20 a head (the originals cost $100). All we have to do is pick them up at the Bangkok Vietnam Embassy.
But before I can even hope to sort that out we've got to crash out at our new lavish digs and crash out hard. Despite getting in at around 7:00am, we leave the hotel only once that first day- to acquire drinks (non-alcoholic), snacks, and instant ramen from the nearby 7-Eleven.
The next day we hire a taxi and make our way across the city and into the heart of Bangkok. We drop off our passports and processing documents at the Vietnam Embassy where we're informed that there will be an additional processing fee and that they only accept Thai baht. This last bit of information causes me severe distress as it runs contrary to the notice's specific instructions that the Embassy only accepts new US bills- something requiring trips to three bank windows and a mountain of paperwork to obtain. I'm beyond furious with the Vietnamese and we haven't even set foot on their soil.
"Why are you back in Bangkok anyway??" you might be asking yourself. You're so smart. That's what I like most about you. We initially consider traversing the long course down the dragon's tail of Laos to the 1,000 islands... or is it 10,000 islands? Either way it's a lot of islands. The problem, as mentioned, is that our Vietnam visas are blown. But I'm able to conjure up a solution that will get us new visas issued through the end of April for what they initially say is a paltry $20 a head (the originals cost $100). All we have to do is pick them up at the Bangkok Vietnam Embassy.
But before I can even hope to sort that out we've got to crash out at our new lavish digs and crash out hard. Despite getting in at around 7:00am, we leave the hotel only once that first day- to acquire drinks (non-alcoholic), snacks, and instant ramen from the nearby 7-Eleven.
The next day we hire a taxi and make our way across the city and into the heart of Bangkok. We drop off our passports and processing documents at the Vietnam Embassy where we're informed that there will be an additional processing fee and that they only accept Thai baht. This last bit of information causes me severe distress as it runs contrary to the notice's specific instructions that the Embassy only accepts new US bills- something requiring trips to three bank windows and a mountain of paperwork to obtain. I'm beyond furious with the Vietnamese and we haven't even set foot on their soil.
We eventually relent on the currency when we are told we'll get a discount if we return the following day to retrieve the visas (despite that we had ordered them for same-day pickup). We eat at Pepper Lunch again and go see a movie. To cope with my rising anxiety of being in Bangkok I start drinking early and heavily. The beers follow me through the movie, to the streets, onto the skytrain, into the cab, and eventually back to the hotel where I'm greeted by my old friend gin & tonic.
The next morning I'm feeling rough from the booze but Jon looks and sounds truly terrible. It takes takes him only an hour or so to realize the cold has transformed into his kryptonite: bronchitis. This means a 10-day course of antibiotics and 2-3 days of immobility for him, at minimum.
Thankfully, Jon comes prepared for this exact situation and starts his course immediately. The bad news: we're stuck in Bangkok and I'm more or less on my own for a couple days. This has the potential to be extremely dangerous. I feel suddenly very uneasy. Acid begins to churn in my stomach. Did I mention this has the potential to be extremely dangerous?
But first I have the visas to deal with. I step into the mid-day Bangkok heat. The weather channel is telling me it's something around 104 degrees Fahrenheit and that with the humidity/heat index it feels like 115. The asphalt radiates heat like a cast iron skillet; my ankles are baking. Any fluids left in my body evaporate within seconds. I purchase an over-priced Gatorade and stagger up the dusty street imploring the Thai deities for a taxi, or tuk-tuk, or even a light breeze.
Finally after some time on the main street corner I'm able to hail a cab and we move at a crawl through the thick Bangkok traffic. It takes nearly two hours to traverse the five or so miles from our hotel to the Embassy. I arrive with 15 minutes to spare before closing- but only as a result ditching the cab and sprinting the last block and a half. I amble into the Visa-issuing room looking like I had emerged from a swamp. They eye me suspiciously. I'm exhausted but ready to rumble.
After waiting long enough to feel my beard growing, the woman "assisting me" at first feigns an inability to locate our passports. I am in no mood for shenanigans. Perhaps she can feel my bad vibrations. I growl and utter something indecipherable and continue to point threateningly at the visa receipt. After a few minutes of this standoff, she recedes into a large cabinet and the passports mysteriously appear with the Visas correctly issued. I triple check them for accuracy, slightly hoping for the opportunity to make a scene. They look good.
I leave and go to McDonald's, hoping something familiar will lift my spirits. It doesn't. I take the metro as far as I can in our direction. I hail a cab and he takes me the long way around to the hotel. The meter is running and running but I don't care; another wave of anxiety at being stuck in Bangkok has swept over me. We finally arrive. I rush into the hotel and, fumbling, I down some meds with a warm beer. I crawl into bed. Jon asks what is wrong. I have no response.
The next day is lost. Jon is immobile- still deathly sick from bronchitis. I'm alternating between catatonic and manic. I sit on the floor of the shower for an hour- water pouring down over my head and back trying to calm myself from the anxiety which is now developed into a full-scale panic attack. It is not something I am prone to, nor well versed with how to handle.
I eventually emerge, take some more medicine, have a gin and tonic, and crawl back in bed. It's 5PM. Later I find myself storming around the streets near our hotel- neon signs flashing past me; I'm moving at incredible rate. For some reason I'm so angry, but angry about nothing. What is happening to me? I feel numb yet I'm experiencing sensory overload. My nerves are raw. I'm back in the room and I'm shaking. I go to back to bed. I watch some TV. I have another drink. Another. The night fades to blackness.
I awake on the fifth morning back in Bangkok and the horrible feelings of the prior day have begun to pass. I stand, shakily at first, but gradually I'm able to find my footing. I look in the mirror and the man gazing back looks terrible. But I notice a faint glimmer in one my eyes and the slightest curl of the lips into what could be mistaken for a smile. I ask Jon how he is feeling. The raspy shallow breath responses have been replaced by the solid tones of a human; the wheezing has subsided. We both feel lucidity returning to our minds and vitality to our bodies. I'll be damned if we're not feeling better.
We decide to clothe ourselves and make good on another bet that I've lost. We seek out the only theater near us playing a new Kamen Rider movie (Japanese thing kind of like Power Rangers). The bet was that the loser must go into the movie five beers deep. To make matters worse, we go to see it at 4PM and thereby struggle to find a place to sell us beers. Apparently there is a Thai law prohibiting the sale of beer from 2-5PM. Finally we track down a sushi joint that will sell us Sapporos but I have only 45 minutes until show-time. I'm crushing the beers at a tremendous pace. The waitresses stand in shock and awe- we mix it up scrappin and rappin like old times.
The next thing I know we're running through the mall to make the movie. There are no English subtitles. I have no idea what is happening except that people keep transforming into robots or aliens or alien robots. Everyone keeps fighting. Why is everyone so angry?!? I'm obliged to keep drinking. The movie makes less and less sense. Finally it ends. I have to pee. Blurriness ensues and I think we eat at a ramen place. Eventually we make it back to the hotel. I lament the terribleness of the day's decisions. I want to get out of Bangkok immediately. Eventually I agree to stay one more night to make sure Jon is 100% before heading to Cambodia where we know quality health care will be limited at best.
On our final day we sort out our travel plans to Cambodia and then head back to Sukhumvit to wander around the malls of destiny. It's a relaxed affair. Knowing we are leaving Bangkok in the morning for Cambodia seems to ease my soul. I am back to a peaceful state. I make a solemn promise to myself not to return to this city for a long long time. The city herself seems in better spirits and provides us with a lovely day. No relenting on the traffic, though.
The next morning, day 7 for those counting, we lug our packs through the suddenly-returned heat and humidity to the bus station and buy our tickets for the Cambodian border. A middle-aged French woman tags along. It feels surreal, even in the train station. I buy a chocolate milk and a water and notice I've sweated through two shirts. I change them, drink the drinks, and we get on the bus. It's hot and cramped, just like Bangkok. But at least it's putting her further and further in the distance. Before too much longer we'll be in Cambodia- and I couldn't be happier.
Bonus photo: at some point during this booze and anxiety filled 7 days holed up in Bangkok I decide to cut my own hair with cheap Malaysian clippers. Here is a picture of the results.
I awake on the fifth morning back in Bangkok and the horrible feelings of the prior day have begun to pass. I stand, shakily at first, but gradually I'm able to find my footing. I look in the mirror and the man gazing back looks terrible. But I notice a faint glimmer in one my eyes and the slightest curl of the lips into what could be mistaken for a smile. I ask Jon how he is feeling. The raspy shallow breath responses have been replaced by the solid tones of a human; the wheezing has subsided. We both feel lucidity returning to our minds and vitality to our bodies. I'll be damned if we're not feeling better.
We decide to clothe ourselves and make good on another bet that I've lost. We seek out the only theater near us playing a new Kamen Rider movie (Japanese thing kind of like Power Rangers). The bet was that the loser must go into the movie five beers deep. To make matters worse, we go to see it at 4PM and thereby struggle to find a place to sell us beers. Apparently there is a Thai law prohibiting the sale of beer from 2-5PM. Finally we track down a sushi joint that will sell us Sapporos but I have only 45 minutes until show-time. I'm crushing the beers at a tremendous pace. The waitresses stand in shock and awe- we mix it up scrappin and rappin like old times.
The next thing I know we're running through the mall to make the movie. There are no English subtitles. I have no idea what is happening except that people keep transforming into robots or aliens or alien robots. Everyone keeps fighting. Why is everyone so angry?!? I'm obliged to keep drinking. The movie makes less and less sense. Finally it ends. I have to pee. Blurriness ensues and I think we eat at a ramen place. Eventually we make it back to the hotel. I lament the terribleness of the day's decisions. I want to get out of Bangkok immediately. Eventually I agree to stay one more night to make sure Jon is 100% before heading to Cambodia where we know quality health care will be limited at best.
On our final day we sort out our travel plans to Cambodia and then head back to Sukhumvit to wander around the malls of destiny. It's a relaxed affair. Knowing we are leaving Bangkok in the morning for Cambodia seems to ease my soul. I am back to a peaceful state. I make a solemn promise to myself not to return to this city for a long long time. The city herself seems in better spirits and provides us with a lovely day. No relenting on the traffic, though.
The next morning, day 7 for those counting, we lug our packs through the suddenly-returned heat and humidity to the bus station and buy our tickets for the Cambodian border. A middle-aged French woman tags along. It feels surreal, even in the train station. I buy a chocolate milk and a water and notice I've sweated through two shirts. I change them, drink the drinks, and we get on the bus. It's hot and cramped, just like Bangkok. But at least it's putting her further and further in the distance. Before too much longer we'll be in Cambodia- and I couldn't be happier.
Bonus photo: at some point during this booze and anxiety filled 7 days holed up in Bangkok I decide to cut my own hair with cheap Malaysian clippers. Here is a picture of the results.
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