WHEN in Bangkok, you must believe everything you are told about tuk-tuks. These motorized dog-carts, with streamers and flowers dangling from the roof, are promoted as a quaint and efficient way to travel short distances round the city.
Don’t believe a word of it – they are tourist touts, plain and simple. My first tuk-tuk driver, who I met as I set foot out of my hotel on Day 1, was called Joy. And he was full of it. Joy, I mean.
With a vast smile he offered to take me anywhere I wanted. Charmed, I asked him to take me to the Silk Museum.
“That’s closed on a Sunday,” he said.
“OK, so take me downtown.”
“That’s too far,” he said.
“Fine, what about the riverside?”
“Why do you want to go to the riverside?” he was aghast. “There is nothing there!”
“I just want to walk along the river,” I said.
“You can’t do that,” he said, “there is nothing to see.” (Just for your info, he was wrong. But that’s for later.)
“OK,” I said, getting exasperated, “what can I do?”
Joy promised to take me on a tour of Bangkok at a very reasonable price, which
sounded like a good deal. I agreed and off we went.
After a few blocks we arrived at a shop.
“What are we doing here?” I asked.
Joy explained that he had a special deal with certain shopkeepers that if he brought them customers he got a commission. I said that I didn’t want to buy anything. He then said that all I needed to do was go into the shop for ten minutes and then he could get a petrol voucher. Oh, alright. So I went in and made a desultory scan of rows of clothes.
My duty done, I got back into the tuk-tuk and off we went again – only to travel a few blocks to yet another shop! I complained a bit and said I did not want to go to shops, but Joy turned on the beseeching smile and I relented and spent ten minutes perusing jewelry. Would you believe that a short while later we drew up in front of yet another shop? I was getting grumpy by now and Joy was wringing his hands. “No more shops,” I said, after another two. “Alright,” said Joy, no longer joyful, and dumped me back at the hotel – an hour after we left. In his pique at the fact that I had not bought anything, he then proceeded to charge me three times the quoted price. I went into the hotel, regrouped, had a cup of tea and checked the map to see what I could do today. Then I went outside and met another tuk-tuk driver, who I asked to take me to the Democracy Monument. “Why are you going there?” he asked. “There is nothing to see, it is just a monument.” “Yes, but it is downtown,” I replied grimly, “and from the Democracy Monument I can walk to the temples.” We set a price, and off we went – only to draw up at exactly the same shop as the first tuk-tuk driver! When I remonstrated I got the same reply – bring me customers, say the shopkeepers, and we will give you a petrol voucher. (By the way, the modus operandi is that the drivers will take you to the expensive shops first and then cheaper ones, in descending order. So if you in fact do want to buy something, wait for the last shop that you get taken to. It will be the cheapest). I struck a deal. “I will go to one more shop,” I said, “but then you take me where I want to go.” And that is what transpired. In defence of the tuk-tuk drivers (once I got over my pique at being fodder for their commission), they do not have a great job. They are poorly paid and spend all their days in the roar and pollution of Bangkok’s traffic. And they are some of the few Thais you will meet up with who speak a form of English. So what if they get commission from sales – this does appear to be an accepted practice with most tour guides around the world. Anyway, back to the Democracy Monument. This is in the centre of Bangkok and is a soaring set of spires that, as the tuk-tuk driver said, is really not much to look at but does form an imposing landmark. I wouldn’t have been able to get close to it anyway, as it was surrounded by an uninterrupted stream of ear-splitting traffic. But this was my starting point – from here I was going to explore the city. And where I hit my first snag. I had with me my guide book and the official Bangkok map, neither of which bore much resemblance to reality. At first I thought this was just sloppy reporting on both sides, but after a while I realized that there is no official English version of anything Thai – so a single word can be spelled in at least six different ways. Several letters are interchangeable in English. The Siamese language is a wavy delight of meaningless lines. Also, Bangkok is a moving target – the essence of the city is the flowing life on its streets. The city opens and closes like a flower. It changes all the time, from day to day, hour to hour. So the map wasn’t all that helpful, even if it did have English names for everything. The guidebook also had a rather fanciful view of things: Dusit Park, it warbled, had enough attractions for a full day of sightseeing. But when I got to the ornate front gate of this imposing park, eager to sample the leafy walkways and fascinating museums, I was turned away by amused guards. You can’t go in there, they said, the king lives there and the public is forbidden. Oh. But the good thing about Dusit is that it brings you out to the northern side of the city’s artery, the Chao Phraya River – the River of Kings. It is wide and muddy and busy with hundreds of boats, large and small. Houses are built along the bank on stilts, and markets flourish alongside the right-angles canals or klongs choked with lotus flowers. This stretch of water is the ‘Royal Mile’, flanked with palaces, temples, colonial buildings, markets and bridges. This was the Bangkok I had come to see. So, humming ‘Getting to Know You’ from The King and I (you can’t help but think of that film all the time you are on this riverside), I set off to explore. And my findings will be described next week.
