Raw Mall

And so we found ourselves in Bangkok, sprawling capital of the Thai kingdom. Bangkok suffers an unfortunately whore-ridden reputation, the result of an industry fueled by half a century of horny American servicemen with shore leave and cash to burn. It's so much more than that though, there is also the filth and the smog.

There was definitely a change in air quality as we headed into the capital. It takes some time getting “into” Bangkok because Bangkok is so damned big: wikipedia claims 11 million or so but I've heard it can reach 16 million on a busy day. I'd believe it, at least from the gridlock. In any case you are talking about anywhere from one sixth to one third of the population of the country living in the capital, something Americans may find hard to comprehend. Imagine that Washington, D.C. had anywhere from fifty to one hundred million residents and you'll understand the pull of Bangkok to the rest of Thailand. It is the center of government, culture, and anything else which claims to be nation wide. This is a mixed blessing to say the least, but it makes a hell of a capital.

Of course, we were only here for six hours or so. Don't be sad though, I came back later (on two occasions actually). We were intent on seeing Chatujak market, which is the largest open air bazaar in S.E. Asia, in part to see the fish. Nominally, you see, the purpose the expedition was to count the varieties of fish for sale in the market and later compare it to what was left of Thailands raped aquatic environment. Also, you could count this whole crazy time as a cultural experience which it sure as hell was, navigating around in our thai language of varying qualities. You see, we went down on own, sans teachers, for a more experiential education. For the record, I think that's the only way to do it (otherwise you're just babysitting).

Anyways, here we were in the train station with hours to kill on our vague goal so we did the most obvious thing: discount ping-pong show. Just kidding, we stored our bags and hunted down Chatujak market, which is quite easy to find if you can read English and use train schedules. Thailand has finally beaten or bribed the mountains of corrupt officials necessary to create a functioning train system, and as a result the tourist and business sections of the city are now reachable with only a short wait. Riding the train as uneventful as these things can be, and we wound up at the right stop.

Have you done LSD? I haven't, but the sensory overload of that place is likely akin to whatever you see when traveling mentally. Some will say that Chatujak has been marketed, that tourism has polluted the purity of the authenticity of the place. Those people haven't explored chatujak fully, because no-one has explored Chatujak fully. You can't really, that's just the delusion of seasoned travelers who assume every mountain can be conquered. Chatujak is only open a couple days a week, and their inventory is never quite the same.

There are more than a few subsections of the place. There's the fashion outlet, the food section (although there's food everywhere), the animal section which overlaps with the food section, the random shit section which is likely larger than the others combined, antiques, etc., and the cockfighting arena. It shames me to say that I never went to the cockfight arena, but I didn't even know that that existed 'till we had left. Apparently everyone was soaping their cocks, because a slippery cock is tricky to fight. Hurdy hur-hur.

In terms of personal experience, the market was a dazzling blaze of choice. Sure, there were certain Chinese made identical items you could find every twenty feet, but there were also innumerable and indescribable objects, some items from the everyday lives of peoples long vanished and never to be known by me. At least, that's what I assumed from the cryptic form of many objects. We had objectives too of course, in addition to the school one. People needed bathing suits (which the school recommended we buy there) and nicknack gifts for friends back home. Naturally we separated within a minute of getting there; I remember some of us stopping for cheap noodles at this one restaurant, and then seeing piles of American military related stuff, like Blackwater t-shirts. I am amused by the monstrosity of the fact that someone probably made t-shirts for a horrifically unethical military corporation with child labor. In any case, we split up and saw what we could see. I did not personally see the many specie of fish requested of us, but then again I was simply happily lost in that maze of free choice.

Being me, I had by this point run low on funds. I have the fiscal responsibility of a lobotomized hamster, so my chief amusement was finding cool things for others and looking for a suitably priced nicknack for my parents palatial bathroom. Since they didn't appear to be selling diamond encrusted golden Buddha heads, nothing seemed appropriate. That's a lie, I saw those, I just didn't know the extent of the renovation back home. Seriously, my former bedroom is now their walk in closet.

Back to the point, Max, DK, and I wandered, strangers in a strange land, for quite some time. We saw weird things, interesting things, objects beyond comprehension. We saw pipes of elephant tusk and enormous carved and gold embossed shells. Tacky swords and thousands of yards of silk cheap and peng mak (very expensive). Ultimately, we just bought t-shirt's and smoothie's and those things which fade quickly in life.

I mentioned it before, but there is no point in describing Chatujak market. It is a constantly evolving creature, and the only permanent description which holds true to time is of it's complexity. The biomass surrounding it, the creeping humanity which overflows and defines it's limits is it's only static attribute. What makes Chatujak market the market that it is is its insanity: crowds moving at a snails pace, individual stalls serving only as way-stations in the great parade of curious consumers, not sure what to buy but ready to be persuaded by one of the hundreds of thousands of items on display there. Chatujak is less a location than a dream: it always changes, and always promises what you want.