Yogic Flying

Revenge of the Mopeds
Back in the steamy metropolis.

The train pulled into Bangkok's main station around six in the morning. Bruce was (and still is!) an experienced traveller, and kindly offered to show me some of the tricks for making a tourist's life easier. This was put to immediate effect as we hailed a taxi to take us Khao San Road and found ourselves heading in the wrong direction. Bruce subtly let the driver know he knew the route and we were soon going the right way.

I wouldn't have had a clue.

We agreed to share a room and then he came out with his next gem. There is one budget priced hotel on Khao San Road that has a swimming pool on the roof. The D & D Inn. Without Bruce I'd have probably ended up back at the first guest-house with its cleanliness issues, instead of being able to tan myself next to the pool, up and away from the hubbub of the street.

After giving me plenty of tips on laundry, internet, restaurants, and somewhere I could keep all those travel guides until April (when I would fly from Bangkok to Delhi), Bruce, the consummate host, then took me on a tour of the city. We glided above the streets on Bangkok's skytrain, taking in the banking district and Siam Square, where on the top-floor of a gigantic multistoried shopping centre we ate lunch in a state-enterprise style food hall.

You first walk down a long aisle filled solely with fruit stalls. The range of produce is astonishing. I used to think I was fruit-aware when I (occasionally) shopped in Waitrose and bought kiwi-fruits and mangoes. Really I was fruit-deprived. Some of the fruits they sell in Thailand I'd have trouble describing, let alone naming.

One that did leave a lasting impression on me was the durian fruit. It has the rough shape of a rugby ball, but its surface is bobbled like egg packaging. The skin is pale orange and very tough. To get to the (arguable) delicacy you need a dirty big knife. More importantly you probably need a peg on your nose.

The thick, syrupy liquid inside smells of vomitus...but tastes of heaven. To my mind the two senses aren't really separable when you eat so I had to give the tropical fruit the thumbs down.

At the food hall the first have to buy food coupons because cash isn't accepted at the counters. Whether this is due to hygiene, untrustworthy staff, or socialist ideas of profit sharing, I don't know. Maybe it just allows the cooks to concentrate on food preparation. A theory that gains credence by the delicious plate of freshly-made sushi that I enjoyed after finally picking a dish from the hundreds on offer.

Back on the hotel rooftop next to the pool, Bruce led Ben and I through the entire gamut of yogic positions. Frankly, some of the ways Bruce contorted his body would be more suited to a zombie flick than a breezy, balmy evening in Bangkok.

His stomach seemed to be missing in a couple of the positions--a state I got no way near emulating by the way!

Tomorrow I fly to Ho Chi Minh City. I can't wait. Any anxiety I had at the beginning has drifted away and my mind and body are ready for more adventures.

Foodtastic!