Waking

Little thrills me more than waking up on the first morning of a trip. So often I arrive under night’s cloak; all my orientation completely off thanks to an extra 50 baht worth of suspiciously circular turns to find our destination on Soi 4. Friday night in Sukhumvit. Alive with “closed” bars – their patrons “finishing up” their beers.

In an effort to clean up the drug trade and mafia activity – and perhaps to curtail international reputation for other surreptitious proceedings – a few years ago, the Thai government mandated that bars in Bangkok close at 1am. Public outcry ensued, causing an amendment to the rule and allowing some bars in some areas to be open later. Unexempt bars now just turn the house lights off, move patrons to the street tables, and serve until clients dissipate. I first experienced this during my 2007 trip when all the lights on a whole strip of bars went dark but my waiter offered me another Singha through his characteristically toothy thai smile.

Back to this morning. My fascination with time is perhaps eclipsed by the phenomenon of travel. Yesterday (or two days ago thanks to the International Dateline), I left San Francisco and today – Bangkok. Clad in what I’m hoping looks bohemian (but in fairness amounts to wrinkled clothes and wild hair) I “sawadee’d” our hotel security, denied “where are you going” taxi drivers, and dodged the morning noodle stands. Appear like you have a destination, adjust bag to front of body, hide eyes behind sunglasses. And look…

Beers at 9am? Really, gentlemen? Breakfast with last night’s courtesan? Well, how decent of you. I see a sign for Starbucks but fight my instincts with a streetside iced coffee instead.

Signs – Massage! Melodies Guesthouse: Nice rooms, Happy bar to make your dreams come true! Tiff Gold Shop. Charming Bar. Nana BTS.

Faces – girls weary from working last night, one older (retired?) woman, red-faced white men with beer bellies, a pimp?

I’m looking for heartbreak but I sense normalcy.

Good Morning, Bangkok.