24/3/25
It was a comparably late hour for us to wake and then leave. Even though the sofa didn’t look comfortable, it was surprisingly easy to get comfortable on. Frustratingly, the blog required some upgrading, having already utilised our free storage. We didn’t find the sense to leave while it was still cool. It was after 10am when we locked up the sliding glass doors.
The walk to the grand palace took around 20 minutes. We were in the swanky part of the city, like the area in London around Buckingham palace. Perfectly manicured. We walked past the ministry of defence building, with its pristine lawn and artillery exhibition. On our way we were harassed twice by well groomed locals. The first questioned us, “Where are you going?” The second falsely told us the palace was closed for the next hour. We weren’t clear how they intended to profit from these interventions.
The grand palace half came into view, the other half concealed behind tall, white washed walls. A sign for the “walking route” forced us into a long rat run. Across the road, along the side of an enormous lawn, permanently being watered, and down an escalator into a fittingly palatial underground concourse. Another escalator led us back up a mere 50m from where we’d started.
When entering the palace gates we were subject to tight security. Metal detectors and facial recognition. But we could also borrow an umbrella. For the Sun, not rain. There was even a bank inside. The ticket office contained extremely efficient sales officers. A ‘cheat sheet’ handily showed the price for every number of visitors. Given that it costs 500 baht each, it was a bit concerning. After being handed four receipts in double quick time we found the entrance gate.
Walking in we were completely overwhelmed. We’d done zero prior reading and it wasn’t clear which way to go. The cloisters, decorated with beautiful gold leafed murals, were brimming with people. After spinning around a few times we located a handily available map.
The most alluring object in the palace, for both Buddhists and visitors, is almost certainly the emerald Buddha. Exactly as it sounds, but far smaller than imagined, it sits atop a pyramid of gold within the temple Phra Kaew. Its vestments change depending on the season, currently it was wearing summer garments.
There were various other structures to see. We can’t pretend to be completely abreast of temple complexes, but the buildings were colourful and exotic compared to western religious architecture. There was a Chedi, a large inaccessible dome, initially whitewashed but later gilded with tiles from Italy. A pantheon that didn’t resemble anything like the Greek structures that would come to mind. We especially liked the Phra Vihara Yod chapel as it was decorated with porcelain wares that had broken on their way from China.
We couldn’t help but notice people were more likely to behave poorly. We were repeatedly bashed into, without the hint of acknowledgment let alone apology. Capturing the perfect photo for instagram seemed to be the priority. We were the rare people even reading the succinctly written pamphlet. we doubted many people knew what they were looking at.
Through a busy passageway were the royal buildings that we believe are still used today. Zero access allowed. We were particularly amused by the palanquin (that thing royal people sit in while they’re carried by ‘slaves’) boarding platforms. One building had both a palanquin and an elephant platform. They’re different heights you see.
We were extremely saddened to learn that the emerald Buddha temple museum was undergoing renovations. Instead we toured the Queen Sirikit Museum of Textiles. It has the lofty goal of preserving techniques but seemed more to be about preserving her dresses. At the very least it was air conditioned.
A performance is included with the grand palace ticket. The theatre was right next to our house and there was a free shuttle. We cheekily used it to get a ride back. After we’d sufficiently cooled off and found ourselves a little hungry, we pounded off south to some potential vegetation restaurants. The first had closed early. We weren’t bitter at all.
The second, Youta, was a diamond in the rough. Right on the border with little India, it was surrounded by Indian shops and people. There is a quite a large contingent of Indian people living in Bangkok it seems. Like any other capital city it’s a hive of different nationalities. We ended up with some soup, that tasted far better than it looked, fried noodles and a papaya salad. After another lady ordered an aesthetically pleasing dish, we also requested the same.
On the way back we through a market. The narrow alleys were still plagued with scooters. No wonder, because we could see them using the walking route option on google maps. It was a more interesting bazaar than we’d seen in Istanbul but only the food drew our attention, we weren’t going to carry anything else and it was mostly tat. We bought a big bag of dried bananas. Frankie was partial to them.
In the evening we headed to Patana property market. We weren’t buying a house. It’s just what it’s called. There was a direct bus route. The bus numbering system is a little odd. For example, we were catching the 2-9(53). It was immediately apparent that most tourists don’t use buses. Taxis are already seriously ‘cheap’.
The riveted, centralised door opened revealing a wooden floor. The bus must have been 60 years old at least. The lcd screens stuck out like it was a steampunk design. Circular enclosed fans, like bathroom extractors, were positioned above every seat. The conductor arrived holding a cylindrical metal money box. It cost 8 baht each, that’s 18p. An orange robed monk darted on at the next stop. They don’t pay. When the monk tried to get off, a woman blocked his path. She was using the wrong side of the door. He put his hand out to his side, as if to say jovially, “No, no, no!” She immediately withdrew, while an older male passenger sat chuckling.
There was a row of stalls immediately across the river from the road. It was all delicious looking fruits. Mountains of them. The piles of watermelons seemed excessive. Watermelons are graded, and can cost anywhere from 50 to 200 baht each. Usually bigger is exponentially more expensive.
Patana market was a little further. We’d searched for an authentic Thai market. Nothing is immune from tourists of course. But it appeared to be heavily frequented by locals getting their dinner. Eating out was almost certainly the norm here. They package it all in endless plastic bags rather than polystyrene containers. Often deconstructed. We meandered around, once again tempted by deep fried treats and disgusted by the piles of intestines and cuts of meat piled up.
We crossed the busy road, with some difficulty, to the fruit sellers where we’d started. We ended up obtaining dragonfruit, papaya, watermelon, jackfruit, sapodilla and bananas. We bought every single one from a different trader. Two of whom appeared to be children. The selection of bountiful bananas was exceptionally extensive.
Laden with bags, which we’d brought with us, we tried to find a bus home. Unfortunately the bus we’d arrived on was a looping bus and it would take a while to get home. Seeking a quicker option, we started walking to another bus stop a few streets away. We arrived, waited 2 minutes, and then watched the bus drive past us. He’d gone past three lanes away from us. Our tiredness and the insufferable heat was really getting to our temperaments. We wanted to go home. Two minutes later, just as we’d accepted our misfortune and tried to start walking, another bus went past. Damn it!
Stood on the busy street corner, at least 8kg of fruit in our hands, we decided to get a ‘grab’. An uber basically. Part of the everything in one app trend. While trying to pick from the myriad of different vehicles, Jonathan panicked, and waved down a passing tuk tuk. Stabbing at the map on our phones we indicated our destination.
The driver promptly set off in the wrong direction. Assuming he’d misunderstood our destination we alerted him, just as he arrived at his destination to pick something up from a small shop. We laughed. We were heading back in a round about way. Accepting the loss of control we laid back to enjoy the ride. It was a weird feeling of novelty we enjoyed, while to all outside it was just another colourful trike with tourists in it.
He shaved us through the last changing light and promptly asked for 200 baht. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was irritating that we’d pissed about trying to get a bus first. We served ourselves a fruit platter. A spread fit for royalty. It wasn’t long afterwards that we sought the restful embrace of our mattress.
Surly They Won't Make It 