The monsoon rains don't arrive until the end of May, but we've had wild, drenching rainstorms for at least part of each of the last four days. Fierce winds have toppled trees in Lumpinee Park, where only a few days earlier Joe had sat on a bench in the sun and watched a three-foot monitor lizard devour a three-foot fish it had dragged out of a canal. Joe said the lizard ate the fish's enormous head in one gulp.
The wind blew over a number of billboards around Bangkok. One man was killed by flying debris, and another billboard crashed down on a Cal-Tex station in our neighborhood. (Photos of some of this should soon appear on the blog.) The city government says there are two-hundred-and-some illegal oversized billboards that it considers hazardous. Has it ordered them to be dismantled? No, the city has advised residents to steer clear of these billboards on stormy days.
We had wondered about drainage in the streets. Now we see that, basically, there isn't much. Many intersections and driveway entrances fill up with water. Some people slip off their shoes or flip-flops and carry them across flooded roads and byways. I saw a Thai man in a business suit, his trouser legs hiked up daintily, completing a footwear portage across a lake that had just formed in front of the Dusit Thani, a five-star hotel.
I spent an hour in the ground-floor shopping and restaurant arcade of an office tower I had ducked into while I waited for one downpour to subside. The marble floor inside a side entrance was an inch lower than the marble terrace outside. So every time the two security guards holding the double doors shut against the wind and rain opened them to let somebody in, a sheet of water cascaded through the opening. Cleaners in blue uniforms soon arrived with galoshes on their feet and broad-brimmed straw hats on their heads. Three of the cleaners wore stacks of three hats each. Wielding brooms, mops and broad window-washing squeegees, the cleaners tried to shove the water back out the doors---though this of course required opening the doors, so it didn't work. Also, every time a door was so much as cracked, the straw hats blew off, and the guards and cleaners collapsed with laughter.
When the rain let up, I plopped a newspaper over my head and hiked with wet feet the two blocks down to the BTS Sala Deng Skytrain station, and rode over to the Siam Paragon Mall and Cinema. I met Joe just in time for the 7:15 showing of "The Hidden Kingdom," a surprisingly enjoyable new Chinese-American kung-fu flick. You know you're not in Cannes anymore when the most interesting actor on the screen is Jackie Chan.
We also sat through 35 minutes of ads and explosion-packed trailers---New Yorkers would have been throwing objects at the screen---and then stood with the rest of the audience for the royal anthem. Sepia-toned snapshots of King Bhumibole floated across the screen, none of them unflattering. At the conclusion of the bombastic ditty, the legend "We love our king" appeared on the screen in Thai and English. Recently, a Thai youth refused to stand for the anthem and will soon stand trial for lese majesty.
It was still raining after the movie and the taxi queue in front of the mall was impossibly long. We walked up the street and found a tuk-tuk, whose young driver agreed to a reasonable fare. He produced a towel to wipe the rainwater off the double seat in the back, and we had a warm, pleasing, semi-soggy ride for the mile or so back to the hotel.
The other time we got wet recently was at a restaurant we like called Northeast. We think the name means the food is mostly Issan, which can be plenty spicy. The waiter asked if we wanted our mixed seafood salad and vegetable stir-fry "Thai-spicy" or "farang-spicy," referring to the number and types of chilis to be included. Sometimes farang-spicy can be too bland, so we said Thai-spicy. As we ate, steam shot out the tops of our heads and we could have used towels to sop it up as hot water streamed down our necks.
Keeping dry in Bangkok can be a chore, but we don't mind. Tomorrow we take the bus to Pattaya for six days. Will we get wet at the seashore? We think so, one way or another.
The wind blew over a number of billboards around Bangkok. One man was killed by flying debris, and another billboard crashed down on a Cal-Tex station in our neighborhood. (Photos of some of this should soon appear on the blog.) The city government says there are two-hundred-and-some illegal oversized billboards that it considers hazardous. Has it ordered them to be dismantled? No, the city has advised residents to steer clear of these billboards on stormy days.
We had wondered about drainage in the streets. Now we see that, basically, there isn't much. Many intersections and driveway entrances fill up with water. Some people slip off their shoes or flip-flops and carry them across flooded roads and byways. I saw a Thai man in a business suit, his trouser legs hiked up daintily, completing a footwear portage across a lake that had just formed in front of the Dusit Thani, a five-star hotel.
I spent an hour in the ground-floor shopping and restaurant arcade of an office tower I had ducked into while I waited for one downpour to subside. The marble floor inside a side entrance was an inch lower than the marble terrace outside. So every time the two security guards holding the double doors shut against the wind and rain opened them to let somebody in, a sheet of water cascaded through the opening. Cleaners in blue uniforms soon arrived with galoshes on their feet and broad-brimmed straw hats on their heads. Three of the cleaners wore stacks of three hats each. Wielding brooms, mops and broad window-washing squeegees, the cleaners tried to shove the water back out the doors---though this of course required opening the doors, so it didn't work. Also, every time a door was so much as cracked, the straw hats blew off, and the guards and cleaners collapsed with laughter.
When the rain let up, I plopped a newspaper over my head and hiked with wet feet the two blocks down to the BTS Sala Deng Skytrain station, and rode over to the Siam Paragon Mall and Cinema. I met Joe just in time for the 7:15 showing of "The Hidden Kingdom," a surprisingly enjoyable new Chinese-American kung-fu flick. You know you're not in Cannes anymore when the most interesting actor on the screen is Jackie Chan.
We also sat through 35 minutes of ads and explosion-packed trailers---New Yorkers would have been throwing objects at the screen---and then stood with the rest of the audience for the royal anthem. Sepia-toned snapshots of King Bhumibole floated across the screen, none of them unflattering. At the conclusion of the bombastic ditty, the legend "We love our king" appeared on the screen in Thai and English. Recently, a Thai youth refused to stand for the anthem and will soon stand trial for lese majesty.
It was still raining after the movie and the taxi queue in front of the mall was impossibly long. We walked up the street and found a tuk-tuk, whose young driver agreed to a reasonable fare. He produced a towel to wipe the rainwater off the double seat in the back, and we had a warm, pleasing, semi-soggy ride for the mile or so back to the hotel.
The other time we got wet recently was at a restaurant we like called Northeast. We think the name means the food is mostly Issan, which can be plenty spicy. The waiter asked if we wanted our mixed seafood salad and vegetable stir-fry "Thai-spicy" or "farang-spicy," referring to the number and types of chilis to be included. Sometimes farang-spicy can be too bland, so we said Thai-spicy. As we ate, steam shot out the tops of our heads and we could have used towels to sop it up as hot water streamed down our necks.
Keeping dry in Bangkok can be a chore, but we don't mind. Tomorrow we take the bus to Pattaya for six days. Will we get wet at the seashore? We think so, one way or another.
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