Begin

From the moment you touch down in Bangkok, a distinct smell inhabits your nose. The recipe for this smell is specific and unchanging, at least in the last 20 years. All wrapped up in this saturated aroma is the pollution of a city whose highrises stretch as far as the eye can see, jammed with cars, buses, motorbikes, diesel trucks and three-wheel taxis (tuk-tuks, for those familiar) puffing a cloying haze into the air at all hours, unhindered by the burden of emission standards. Add to this the greasy smell of a million little food carts perched on every corner peddling everything from fresh fruit to chicken feet, the stench of thousands of stray animals running loose on the streets and finally pinches of sweet incense burning from the early morning hours in every temple and spirit house for miles. All of this remains suspended in the balmy air as you make your entrance, zipping through the maze of concrete and flashy lights to your destination.


We made our way quickly through Thai customs, a very unimposing process of shortly showing our passports, answering a few standard questions and looking right into the digital camera for a glamorous shot after 20+ hours of travel with an infant. We were hastily approached by some very friendly ladies in bright gold outfits who worked for a leading taxi service in the Bangkok airport. Perhaps part of the secret of their success lies in the fact that they refer to their taxis as 'limousines'. I held Isaiah and began what would unfold into a legacy of ogling and child-adoration in this country while Gaibi rifled through paperwork at the desk of the taxi company. Shortly we were climbing into a stout SUV with air-conditioning and a very kind driver who greeted us with a well enunciated 'sawasDEE krap!' and 'welcome to Thailand'. Immediately upon arrival in a new country, one is faced with certain cultural adjustment quandaries. Do you tip the taxis around here? What is a good rate for Bangkok taxis these days anyway? Could it have been that we shouldn't have gone for the first one to approach us in the airport? Shrewdly, the taxi service knows that such capacities of reason and judgement are considerably hindered after international flights. This, they know, is the time to strike.


Arriving at our destination, another moment of potentially serious trouble: the driver does not seem able to locate the address of our hotel. More panicky thoughts begin to flutter through your mind, oh God...all I have is this address scrawled in Thai on a little piece of paper that I have scrupulously kept by my side since our departure...if he can't find the place then what are we supposed to do? How do we go about choosing another place? Surely if we ask him he'll take us to a safe place to sleep...but this is just the kind of scam they warn you about in Lonely Planets and internet tour blogs: "Beware of taxi scams in the city in which the driver will seem not to be able to find your hotel, offering instead to take you to a pre-arranged, overpriced guesthouse where you will spend the night with rats that have been trained to steal your passport..."


Soon thereafter our taxi driver realizes that the address is actually an alley, kicks the taxi into reverse and drives us to the door of the hotel. He quickly unloads our 100+ pounds of luggage and waits by the car. Still unresolved about the tip issue, i rather clumsily ask if i should, to which he responds, "Very kindly, sir," and i ask to see the tab. With a modicum of confusion, we finally go to the cab and he produces a receipt which says something like 750 baht (or around $25 for a 30 min ride.) This is extremely steep by Thai standards, with the average cab fare for a 30 minute ride rounding out to less than half this price. This is what we get for biting the 'limo' bait. I hmm and hah a bit and produce a 1000 note, telling him to keep the change as I am thoroughly exhausted and can't imagine trying to think it over. His face explodes into a generous smile as he accepts the bill, bows politely and speeds off in his Rav4. Walking into the hotel Gaibi asks, "How much did you tip him?"

"About 250," I reply. "So 1000 altogether."

"You paid him again?" She asks.

"What?"

"I already paid at the desk in the airport."

"Well we just made a new friend, I guess."

Too tired to lament, the very friendly hotel staff again proceed to haul our belongings to the elevator without the benefit of a cart, and we go to our room.

Jet lag leaves you in a strange universe. At four AM we find ourselves in a 7-11 down the street from the hotel. It is raining outside and we stand in the distinctly flourescent light of the convenience mart, perusing the selection of snacks. Shrimp crisps, dried fish strips, sponge cake rolls, crab-flavored corn trumpets, chocolate wafers...

We collect an armful of foil-bagged munchies and make for the register. On the way out we grab a few tiny juice boxes and by 5:30 am we are passed out on the bed, garnished with wrappers. It was the only sustenance available at that hour, and only the hard-lagged brain can only take so much Thai soap-opera in the earliest hours of the day.

At 8:30 am we awaken again, feeling like we haven't had our V8.