Two Nights in Bangkok

quarantine, pink taxis, and a belly full of beef tongue

It is stressful traveling in the post-Covid world, and while both Torren and I are reasonably okay at paperwork nothing went right as we applied for our Thai passes, booked our flights, and organized our quarantine hotel. It took us days of phone calls to Thailand, waiting on long holds, calling our banks, calling our airlines, calling out to God herself for help, before we finalized all of our travel details. It was midnight and we were sitting on the couch in my parents’ little house in Santa Barbara when we got the email that our Thai passes had been granted, and realized that it was actually happening. After years of machinations, chewing our cuds like two cows who wanted to go sailing, it was a surreal moment. There was no turning back now. 

Saying bye to Mom and Dad before venturing into ‘the great beyond’

Our flight from Los Angeles was easy, and we had an interesting layover in Tokyo where I used a bidet for the first time (I’m not sure I liked it) and we ate eel stew for breakfast. A holographic panda tried to sell us insurance as we waited in a completely empty airport for five hours.

Tokyo Airport was still closed to inbound travel because of pandemic restrictions, so we sat alone in an empty terminal during our layover, gazing at the signs. This friendly ladybug made us feel like very safe and supported.

We arrived in Bangkok at 4:15pm on March 14, 2022, and it really did feel like the beginning of something big. A grand adventure. A new life. A swashbuckling pirate-y shit show. An untenable dream.

The COVID-19 rules had us swiftly carted into a taxi and whisked away to our hotel, where we were required to quarantine until we received negative PCR test results. When we told our driver that we lived in Australia, he asked us if we ate kangaroo.

“I guess,” I answered, feeling weird about it.

Torren with our quarantine meal, thoughtfully protected in a hygienic layer of cellophane. I wonder if they also spritzed the entree with a bit of hand sanitizer. Margarita - 2/10. Pad Thai - 7/10. Rice - 10/10.

We waited in the hotel for a night before receiving our negative test results, and then wandered out into the city. Like thumbs, we explored night markets with cold beer and buckets of live squid and beef intestines. We batted flies, and struggled to pronounce Thai words. It was a new world all pink and green, with a smoggy pearl sky and seemingly no traffic laws. The taxis in Bangkok are fluorescent pink, and I loved them so much that I had my nails painted to match. 

Fish drying by the light of a sunbeam.

Rice, rice, rice…

We ate crazy stews with tongue and liver and fried garlic, gorged ourselves on weird spongy dough balls wrapped in banana leaves, drank neon purple butterfly pea juice. I barfed two times the next morning, but felt otherwise great. There is no other feeling like going to a new place, a mixture of boundless curiosity, total satiation, and a little fear. After a long pandemic, reaching Bangkok was like an itch scratched, and we were happy.

Chiles drying in front of a small shop. Thai food is impeccable, and always spicy.

Both Torren and I spent this meal convinced that those greying meatballs were cow testicles. We were wrong, but I’m still not sure what they actually are.

After a few days in the city, we lugged our two massive surfboard bags (Torren brought 7 boards and I brought 1) into a taxi and made the two hour trip to Pattaya where Calytpe lay in wait.