Two On Tour

Pub quizzes, old friends, and an occasional brush with culture.

Monday 17 August

The week is set to revolve around dentists. K’s already booked in for a cap fitting over two days; my lunchtime checkup reveals a tooth in need of a filling. I’m also booked in for a full-mouth clean tomorrow. At least one of us will be in the chair Monday, Tuesday, Friday and Saturday. But that’s why we’re here. It’s fine.

By the time we’ve had lunch in a quiet German bar near the clinic, taken a Grab to the supermarket, done our groceries and lugged them home on foot — K using the open fridge to cool down — the day’s over. I throw together a veggie pesto pasta with lashings of black pepper and we settle down to watch Adam Brody in The Brutalist up to its self-injected intermission.

Tuesday 18 August

A solo appointment in the dentist’s chair for teeth cleaning, lunch back at the flat, then off again, this time together, for K’s appointment at a different clinic.

While K’s having a temporary cap fitted, I finally finish One Hundred Years of Solitude in the waiting room. I wish I’d enjoyed it more. At times I’ve managed to disappear into its strange and sinister world; other times I’ve had to will my way through, absorbing little, searching for a plot that barely seemed to exist. It’s one of the most celebrated books of the twentieth century, so I’m clearly the fool here.

K’s still in the dentist’s chair, so I find an online study guide and read up on the book’s main themes: the circularity of time, solitude, progress and civilisation, propriety and sexuality, and of course magic vs. reality. When I finish the study guide, the book makes more sense. That doesn’t necessarily mean I want to attempt it again.

One day. Maybe.

We kill time at a café in Terminal 21 until it’s late enough to present ourselves at The Sportsman for our second quiz night. It’s quieter this week: just five teams to last week’s twelve. The other teams all appear to be regulars. They’re also full teams, not stray couples like us. We do our best but inevitably walk away with the wooden spoon, nearly ten points adrift.

Wednesday 19 August

After two days of dental appointments, grocery runs and quiz nights, we’re happy to kick back in the flat and focus on travel planning.

By late afternoon, we’ve worked out an itinerary for six weeks in Albania next April/May. K celebrates with a daft pose:

Thursday 20 August

Another opportunity for a sprinkling of culture. Bangkok Art & Cultural Centre proves more appealing as a building — circular, with a pedestrian ramp that wraps around the wall for the three highest floors levels — than for any art currently on display:

The art changes often: right now, it’s three levels of botanical drawings. A marvel of observational detail perhaps, but only marginally diverting. The upper floors are given over to pretentious multimedia nonsense, culminating on the top level in a pile of bricks on the floor. I shrug and we head back down, stopping for coffee and the best banana bread we’ve ever found — genuinely more banana than bread.

Outside, it’s rush hour. Bangkok around Siam station is truly hideous: above, vast concrete viaducts for the Skytrain; at street level, despite the Skytrain, gridlock. I pity anyone obliged to pass through here every day.

Friday 21 August

At lunchtime, one final dental appointment for a filling. And with that, I’m done with the medical profession for now: health screening, vaccinations, dental work. Sorted.

I’m keen to head back to the wilder section of Benchakitti Park on a weekday minus the crowds. K, seeing it for the first time, busies herself snapping flora and fauna: lotus seed pods the size of showerheads, herons perched on tree tops.

In between the photo shoot, I raise the possibility of not returning to Asia next year. The case against returning: a) we’d have to spend at least two months of the sticky wet season here (September–October); b) I’m keen to see northern Spain, and autumn would be an ideal time. The case for coming back: a) health checks; b) cost of living (flights between Europe and Asia would be covered by AirMiles).

K likes this idea. I’ve yet to convince myself, but after dinner an in-depth Spain Revealed video nudges me further down this path: it highlights the charms of Oviedo, with its growing international community. One to chew on.

Saturday 22 August

A final dental appointment for K to have her new cap fitted, and she’s also done with the medical profession for now. We fritter away the rest of the afternoon at the MBK Center — an indoor, air-conditioned version of Chatuchak weekend market, with more focus on useful products and fewer wooden frogs. I come away with a new pair of sunglasses.

It’s the first Saturday night of the Premier League. At 6.30 The Sportsman is already heaving. We’re directed instead to its upstairs pool hall, also busy but with enough sitting room to watch Hull beat Man. Utd 2–0. A cracking curtain raiser.

Sunday 23 August

The quietest of quiet days. I don’t leave the flat, spending most of the day tidying files on my laptop. Adrian, our host, pops round to fix a leaking kitchen tap and we fall back into easy conversation. He owns another flat here at Monterey Place, and lives here too. He’s a software consultant, initially hit hard by AI but now finding — or rather employers are finding — there’s still a role for skilled humans.  

Ian and Rose are at Mum’s. Ian fell off a ladder yesterday while cleaning Mum’s guttering. They spent Saturday night at A&E — fortunately nothing broken, but he’s walking on crutches. Ouch.

Meanwhile, in Sussex, Rod Stewart shows up at a pub on the table next to Matt Paine:

Monday 24 August

Another day without venturing far. We have just over a week left in Bangkok. There are ambitions to explore more widely these coming days, but today we need a sackful of groceries. Photo near the flat after lugging said groceries nearly all the way back:

I’m still preoccupied tidying files on my laptop — the sort of thing I thought I would have done years ago with freedom from full-time work. Wedding photos are among those getting the tidying wand treatment today. Bizarrely, hours later, Ian sends a snap of a badly faded wedding photo that Mum keeps in her living room. Could I send the original so that he can get a new one printed up for Mum? Why, of course.

Tuesday 25 August

An afternoon stroll in Lumphini Park, home to a colony of Asian water monitors. The park is pleasant enough, but the lizards are the star attraction. A small flock of tourists, us among them, follow their every step from a respectable distance, phones in hand. They’re magnificent creatures, a good four feet long with long forked blue tongues. When they tire of us they slip into the lake.

When we tire of them, we head into nearby Central Park mall in search of coffee. The ground floor is crammed with fans of a pretty young star appearing in person to promote a brand of skincare products. Much ado about nothing as far as we’re concerned. We step onto an escalator to escape the commotion and find a quiet coffee shop upstairs serving generous slices of lemon drizzle cake.

We kill time reading until it’s time to show our faces for a third time at quiz night. Once again, we’re one of only five teams, all much larger — Hash have ten this week. We finish last once again. If points per team member mattered at all, we’d effortlessly be tonight’s winners. But they don’t.

Wednesday 26 August

An afternoon at the National Museum.

Sanam Chai station is a cut above other MRT stations: inside it resembles a Buddhist temple. This is Bangkok in lipstick and full make-up. After a plate of stir-fried instant noodles with chicken chilli, a toasty 25-minute walk takes us past the Grand Palace (we’ve both visited before) and on to the museum in Phra Nakhon.

There’s far more on display than we can take in, but it’s refreshing to while away a few hours surrounded by things worth looking at. Heaven knows there’s little of that in Bangkok outside this rather refined neighbourhood. Naturally, the Buddha features heavily. To an eye more trained than mine, his features shift as we move from one historical period to another. I come away with few specifics, but a vague feel for two thousand years of artistry.

And Dolly Parton dies age 80.

Thursday 27 August

We were out yesterday. We’re out tomorrow. Today we lay low. Swimming. Laundry. Projects. And we finish booking accommodation in Albania next spring.

Netflix has an adaptation of One Hundred Years of Solitude. I’m curious. We try the first episode. It’s excellent. Far easier to follow than the book. We’ll push on.

Friday 28 August

A day out with Peter and On. They’re returning from a run down south — a half marathon for On; 5km for Peter, now 71. They’ve paused in Bangkok long enough to catch up with us.

But first, I’m back in the dentist’s chair. The tooth I had filled this time last week has been unusually sensitive and I want to know if everything looks alright in there. The dentist assures me the filling is still there, while a further x-ray shows no hairline cracks. She recommends toothpaste for sensitive teeth. I’ll try it.

We run into Peter and On outside the restaurant near Siam Square as we all arrive early. Peter explains the Inter is a venerable institution that’s been around for decades — he was a regular customer back in the nineties when he was working at the British Council, still located around the corner.

It’s terrific to finally see them in Thailand. I always assumed we would one day. Athena graduated this summer, and Peter plans to teach one final year at SPACE before he and On relocate permanently to Thailand to divide their time between Phitsanulok and Bangkok.

Stomachs already bursting, we move onto a café in the vast Siam Paragon mall for fancy coffees and even fancier slices of cake.

Then a sweltering walk to a narrow canal, where a water taxi whisks us to the Golden Mount, a temple Peter has a particular affection for. Shallow steps wind up, initially through jungle, then around the base until we arrive at the temple itself, with sweeping but typically unremarkable views across Bangkok. The afternoon is windy, and dozens of metallic windchimes are taking a battering. They’re still mellifluous, but only just. At least the breeze cuts through the tropical heat.

A final climb brings us to the stupa and more panoramic views. The Chao Praya River isn’t far away, but we’re not high enough to see it. Instead, Bangkok stretches away in every direction curiously devoid of any landmark to act as a concrete reference point.

By now we’re all whacked. Enough for today. We hatch a plan for dinner tomorrow and part on the metro as K and I jump off at Queen Sirikit.

Saturday 29 August

A wet Saturday. A day to lie low until we meet Peter and On for dinner.

To recreate the camaraderie of dozens of post-hike refreshments, we meet at a German bar in Nana. There’s plenty more to chew over: On explains how social mobility in Thailand is almost impossible, how angry Gen Z are with the all-pervading corruption while typically earning 300 to 500 baht a day, and how disappointed she was on first visiting Greece with Peter in the nineties: she expected it to work better — in was in the EU after all.

Peter and I trade stories of how we almost gave up on TEFL on account of being miserably poor, but chose instead to invest in better qualifications and claw our way up. A wise investment on both our parts, all things considered.

We all agree we’ve had a fine evening and part at Nana MRT station. They fly up to Phitsanulok in the morning, but we’ll see them — probably for the last time in Hong Kong — this autumn.

Sunday 30/Monday 31 August

Sunday is so quiet there’s almost nothing to report: neither of us leave the flat. Curious, I download the Dreaming Spanish app and discover there’s plenty I can do without a subscription. I should have tried it months ago — I could have been tracking my hours all this time. Still, never too late to begin.

The last day of August is our final cultural plunge into Bangkok. We board a small ferry to explore Wat Arun on the far bank of the muddy Chao Praya. The temple perhaps doesn’t look its best in the afternoon drizzle, but there’s still much to enjoy. Women in rented traditional costumes star in their own photoshoots as professional photographers snap away with complicated cameras the size of bricks. The fancy-dress adds a touch of colour and charm as they pose against the intricate temple carvings. We patiently wait to pass as they experiment with every conceivable pose, each photographer chasing the money shot.

Back on the east bank, I wrap myself up in Colin Thubron’s Mirror to Damascus over coffee and cake. I’d hoped to finish it before leaving Bangkok so I could disappear into a book of short stories from Vietnam. I would have finished it by now if I didn’t open Wikipedia every few pages to learn more about the Crusader states, Saladin, Tamarlane, and dozens of other diversions the book wanders into.

Tuesday 1 September

Our final day in Bangkok is only notable for a final attempt not to finish last at the Sportsman quiz. In this we succeed, coming seventh out of eight — way behind sixth-place but comfortably clear of last. Quiz categories include one called Murder Most Foul, which scores us a modest six. I even solve two of the five cryptic crossword clues in the picture round, while K handles most of the famous Italians single-handed. All in all not too shabby.

We’ve done what we came to Bangkok to do: spend a month here in the rainy season and get a feel for the less picture-postcard side of Thailand. It’s certainly been gritty. I can’t put hand on heart and say I’ve enjoyed every moment. But we’ve learned one key lesson: if we ever settle in Thailand, it won’t be in Bangkok. That’s progress.