In the front yard of their house, three Thai women serve up superb
Thai food in a nice garden setting at prices which would be simply
impossible to comprehend anywhere else in the world. I often go over
there for lunch - a single plate meal is 35 baht; or, for dinner, you
can have green chicken curry, and garlic pork, and Thai omelette, and
tom yam goong, for a grand total of less than 200 baht. It's also a
pleasant place to sit with a few beers in the evening, with the rest
of the farangs from the area who have stumbled upon this little gem.
Im Aroi, Yen Akat Soi 1.
Showing posts with label Bangkok. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bangkok. Show all posts
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Full/delicious.
Just near my place is one of Bangkok's best-kept food secrets.
Reality check.
I can’t help but notice a disturbing trend when it comes to new restaurants opening in Bangkok lately.
It doesn’t seem to be enough to offer good food in pleasant surroundings. Instead, almost every new place these days has to have some sort of theme. Recently opened offerings include a Wild West theme; an Imperial China theme; a Mexican theme; and of course an Irish theme.
These places are worthy, and I have nothing against people trying to differentiate their business offerings. And I’m the first to accept that every place needs to fit into some sort of category. However, most of them, it could be argued, push their themes a little too much. Mexican sombreros on the walls and cowboy hats on the waitresses. Jangly ‘arriba arriba’ guitar music on permanent rotation. Ming Dynasty uniforms and wintry tree branches dividing the tables. A green-clad would-be Paddy O’Murphy in the corner singing Republican folk songs. Meanwhile, the real connection to the theme is dubious at best; no Mexicans to be seen in the Mexican restaurant’s kitchen; no portly Irishmen pulling pints in the Irish place. Instead, shifty-looking ‘investors’ hang around, trying to look casual while counting heads. It all feels a bit plasticky, a bit Disneyland.
Lest we forget, there are some places in Bangkok that are the real thing. German restaurants where the ‘concept’ is actually about serving authentic German food. Vietnamese places where the waitresses don’t wear conical hats, but where you can get proper Vietnamese food, cooked by someone who actually does possess a Vietnamese passport.
Here, then, is a list of twelve places in Bangkok that are the real thing: places where they do things properly. (It should have been ten, but I didn’t want to leave anything out.)
The Great American Rib Company, Sukhmumvit Soi 36. The ovens are from America. The meat is from America. Even the owners are from America. The frozen margaritas are heavenly, the ribs are superb, and I would request the pulled pork sandwiches as my last meal if ever I was to be executed.
Vivi Coffee. Down a little lane, overlooking the river near Tha Tien, Bangkok’s best cappuccinos are being served. In big cups, froth piled high with slightly burnt edges, just like they serve it in Roma. The view of Wat Arun and the elegant Royal Thai Navy headquarters across the river is nice too.
Limoncello, Sukhumvit Soi 11. There are a few decent pizza places in Bangkok – but this one scores highest on the reality meter because of the constant presence of the Italian chef overseeing proceedings. Granted, he’s often drunk, but as far as I know, there’s nothing in the Pizza Rulebook that demands permanent sobriety.
Korean place, Ratchada Soi 14. In this most unexpected of places, about 150 metres down a narrow soi full of low-rent apartment blocks, is this Korean restaurant whose name I never quite got around to remembering. Run by a formidable-looking Korean woman who obviously maintains impeccable standards by striking the fear of God into her staff, you can be assured that this is the authentic experience. On the right, across from Family Mart.
Le Bouchon, Patpong. Judging by how long this place has been around, my theory is that the French owner stuck it out in post-colonial Vietnam for a few years, then escaped when he decided things were getting too hot as a result of Mr Ho Chi Minh’s shenanigans. A little slice of Lyon in the heart of I-Love-You-Long-Time territory.
Uomasa, Thonglor Soi 13. Japanese, as authentic as they come. The live lobster heads served with the sashimi – decapitated so recently that the pincers are still rattling – are, if anything, a little too authentic for my tastes: but others might not be so squeamish.
Jools, Soi Nana. Past Nana Plaza, this sleaze-free horseshoe bar has been pulling in regulars for decades. The sign promises the best British food in Bangkok, and after nearly eating myself to death with the jumbo-sized Toad In The Hole, I’m in no position to argue.
Bei Otto. The best German food in Bangkok, no questions asked, cooked by Otto himself: and the only place serving this range of authentic German beers. Sukhumvit Soi 20.
Nefertiti. In truth, almost every Middle Eastern restaurant in Soi Arab is authentic. This one scores a mention because of its great outdoor area, its range of shisha flavours, and the Egyptian MTV blaring out of the huge TV set. Sukhumvit Soi 3/1.
On the subject of Middle Eastern food, but rating a separate mention because it’s not in Soi Arab, Beirut is the real thing when it comes to Lebanese food; both of the Arabic and more Western varieties. Silom and Mahatun Plaza.
The history of the Vietnamese woman running Xuan Mai is too interesting to even begin to relate with the limited space I have. Go there and listen to her story yourself: and enjoy what is without doubt the best Vietnamese food in the Thai capital by a country mile. The difference between this place and others in Bangkok is so great that you’ll never be able to eat Vietnamese food anywhere else again. Sukhumvit Soi 13.
Tapas Bar in Sukhumvit Soi 11 is a great example of a place that does what it is supposed to do, without descending into ‘theme’ territory. No bullfighting posters on the walls, no waiters in matador outfits: just a modern space serving great tapas.
Finally, Enoteca: a quirky little outfit run by three Italian chaps, this place scores 100% in the reality stakes. Great wine selection, and the best antipasti in the city. Sukhumvit Soi 29.
It doesn’t seem to be enough to offer good food in pleasant surroundings. Instead, almost every new place these days has to have some sort of theme. Recently opened offerings include a Wild West theme; an Imperial China theme; a Mexican theme; and of course an Irish theme.
These places are worthy, and I have nothing against people trying to differentiate their business offerings. And I’m the first to accept that every place needs to fit into some sort of category. However, most of them, it could be argued, push their themes a little too much. Mexican sombreros on the walls and cowboy hats on the waitresses. Jangly ‘arriba arriba’ guitar music on permanent rotation. Ming Dynasty uniforms and wintry tree branches dividing the tables. A green-clad would-be Paddy O’Murphy in the corner singing Republican folk songs. Meanwhile, the real connection to the theme is dubious at best; no Mexicans to be seen in the Mexican restaurant’s kitchen; no portly Irishmen pulling pints in the Irish place. Instead, shifty-looking ‘investors’ hang around, trying to look casual while counting heads. It all feels a bit plasticky, a bit Disneyland.
Lest we forget, there are some places in Bangkok that are the real thing. German restaurants where the ‘concept’ is actually about serving authentic German food. Vietnamese places where the waitresses don’t wear conical hats, but where you can get proper Vietnamese food, cooked by someone who actually does possess a Vietnamese passport.
Here, then, is a list of twelve places in Bangkok that are the real thing: places where they do things properly. (It should have been ten, but I didn’t want to leave anything out.)
The Great American Rib Company, Sukhmumvit Soi 36. The ovens are from America. The meat is from America. Even the owners are from America. The frozen margaritas are heavenly, the ribs are superb, and I would request the pulled pork sandwiches as my last meal if ever I was to be executed.
Vivi Coffee. Down a little lane, overlooking the river near Tha Tien, Bangkok’s best cappuccinos are being served. In big cups, froth piled high with slightly burnt edges, just like they serve it in Roma. The view of Wat Arun and the elegant Royal Thai Navy headquarters across the river is nice too.
Limoncello, Sukhumvit Soi 11. There are a few decent pizza places in Bangkok – but this one scores highest on the reality meter because of the constant presence of the Italian chef overseeing proceedings. Granted, he’s often drunk, but as far as I know, there’s nothing in the Pizza Rulebook that demands permanent sobriety.
Korean place, Ratchada Soi 14. In this most unexpected of places, about 150 metres down a narrow soi full of low-rent apartment blocks, is this Korean restaurant whose name I never quite got around to remembering. Run by a formidable-looking Korean woman who obviously maintains impeccable standards by striking the fear of God into her staff, you can be assured that this is the authentic experience. On the right, across from Family Mart.
Le Bouchon, Patpong. Judging by how long this place has been around, my theory is that the French owner stuck it out in post-colonial Vietnam for a few years, then escaped when he decided things were getting too hot as a result of Mr Ho Chi Minh’s shenanigans. A little slice of Lyon in the heart of I-Love-You-Long-Time territory.
Uomasa, Thonglor Soi 13. Japanese, as authentic as they come. The live lobster heads served with the sashimi – decapitated so recently that the pincers are still rattling – are, if anything, a little too authentic for my tastes: but others might not be so squeamish.
Jools, Soi Nana. Past Nana Plaza, this sleaze-free horseshoe bar has been pulling in regulars for decades. The sign promises the best British food in Bangkok, and after nearly eating myself to death with the jumbo-sized Toad In The Hole, I’m in no position to argue.
Bei Otto. The best German food in Bangkok, no questions asked, cooked by Otto himself: and the only place serving this range of authentic German beers. Sukhumvit Soi 20.
Nefertiti. In truth, almost every Middle Eastern restaurant in Soi Arab is authentic. This one scores a mention because of its great outdoor area, its range of shisha flavours, and the Egyptian MTV blaring out of the huge TV set. Sukhumvit Soi 3/1.
On the subject of Middle Eastern food, but rating a separate mention because it’s not in Soi Arab, Beirut is the real thing when it comes to Lebanese food; both of the Arabic and more Western varieties. Silom and Mahatun Plaza.
The history of the Vietnamese woman running Xuan Mai is too interesting to even begin to relate with the limited space I have. Go there and listen to her story yourself: and enjoy what is without doubt the best Vietnamese food in the Thai capital by a country mile. The difference between this place and others in Bangkok is so great that you’ll never be able to eat Vietnamese food anywhere else again. Sukhumvit Soi 13.
Tapas Bar in Sukhumvit Soi 11 is a great example of a place that does what it is supposed to do, without descending into ‘theme’ territory. No bullfighting posters on the walls, no waiters in matador outfits: just a modern space serving great tapas.
Finally, Enoteca: a quirky little outfit run by three Italian chaps, this place scores 100% in the reality stakes. Great wine selection, and the best antipasti in the city. Sukhumvit Soi 29.
Capital offences.
When it comes to driving in Thailand, there is Bangkok, and there is the rest.
Driving in Bangkok is defined by interminable waits at unchanging traffic lights, clownish police traffic controls seemingly designed to stop any kind of traffic flow at all, air quality that Lucifer himself would complain about, potholes that would not be out of place in central Africa, constant battles for road space with tuk-tuks, motorbikes and menacing green buses, and road manners so far from the polite Thai norm that you wonder if all the people driving are from this country at all.
Outside of Bangkok, driving in Thailand is all about winding country lanes, perfect-quality roads that would not shame an Australian or French highway department, gorgeous dual carriageways running alongside beautiful mountains, twisty forest roads with dappled sunlight, and spectacular mountain passes over windy ridges.
Pick any point on the compass from Bangkok, point your car in that direction, and you’re guaranteed an enjoyable driving experience once you escape the megalopolitan boundaries.
South, there’s the drive to Phuket: taking in Hua Hin, Prachuap and the pine-lined coastal road along the east side of the peninsula. The highway to Chumpon is excellent, but the small roads linking the coastal villages are more charming, with hardly another car to be seen for hours and hours of meandering.
The drive from one side of the peninsula to the other can be made via one of two routes; the northern road crosses from Chumpon to Rayong, skirts the Burmese border, and passes through lovely rolling hills and verdant fields. At the coast, the road turns south, twisting and turning with tantalising glimpses of the ocean all the way via Khao Lak to Phuket itself.
The more southern route, which is good for the journey back north, passes through Phang Nga province. The karst islands that make the bay of Phang Nga so famous can be seen here too; this time, however, not rising out of sea, but out of land. Cruising past these spectacular rock formations and seeing them up close from the car window makes for an excellent drive. East from there, the road passes for around 30 kilometres through a strange lost valley that could easily pass for the Garden of Eden.
North from Bangkok is made for driving holidays. Following the Chao Phraya via the small riverside roads; exploring the national parks west of Nakhon Sawan, with their high peaks and icy nighttime temperatures; turning west at Tak, following the mountainous Mae Hong Son loop along the Burmese border via sleepy Mae Sariang and bohemian Pai to end up in Chiang Mai the long way round; visiting the historical sites of Sukhothai and Ayutthaya; pushing north from Chiang Mai to the high altitude areas abutting Laos… the automotive options in this most gorgeous area of Thailand are endless.
Hotels are well-spaced, and you’ll always come across a tasteful lodge overlooking a river at the end of the day where you can sit in the cool night air while eating Thai food and drinking Heineken. It’s perfect motoring country and a driving trip here could take anything from a weekend to a couple of months, depending on how much you want to see and how slow you want to go.
West from the capital, the lush riverine country of Kanchanaburi offers massive reservoirs, wide slow-flowing rivers, untouched forests and some poignant historical reminders of what went on here from 1942 to 1945. Accommodation in the area varies from serene spiritual growth forest lodges to raft hotels floating on the river where you can sleep with nothing but the sound of the water flowing beneath you.
East from Bangkok lie roads to Pattaya, Koh Samet, Koh Chang and other islands near the Cambodian border; the beautiful country of the Khao Yai national park and wine-growing region; and the roads criss-crossing the fascinating hundred-mile-long canals of Pathum Thani, cut hundreds of years ago for transportation and irrigation.
And northeast is the legendary Isaan province, which could fill up a column of its own: perfectly designed for a driving holiday, with ancient Khmer temples on a par with Angkor Wat, tiny welcoming villages, interesting railway towns, quirky settlements populated with Swiss, Brits and Germans who have opted out of European life to marry into Isaan families, wild folk festivals and quirky customs, and the Mekong River always present, snaking along the border to create the Isaan Riviera, with luxurious hotels and restaurants at unheard-of low prices.
Personally, I’ve all but given up driving in Bangkok; and rarely even take taxis unless absolutely necessary. I’m much happier bypassing four-wheeled transport altogether: standing on the BTS, or perched on the back of a motorbike, or leaning out of the side of a riverboat. Anything where I don’t have to be involved in the control of the vehicle, where I can tune out, where the gridlock can’t affect me, where I can slither nonchalantly through, above, or around the permanent coronary-inducing standstill.
But most weekends, and any days off I can manufacture, I will be found behind the wheel: nosing down canalside dirt tracks, drifting along shadowy forest roads, seeking out obscure hot springs with a map and a GPS, cruising along reservoir shores on open highways towards obscure country resorts.
Thailand is made for driving. Just don’t tell the Bangkok Road Authority: the longer they remain uninvolved in the running of the rest of the country’s roads, the better.
Driving in Bangkok is defined by interminable waits at unchanging traffic lights, clownish police traffic controls seemingly designed to stop any kind of traffic flow at all, air quality that Lucifer himself would complain about, potholes that would not be out of place in central Africa, constant battles for road space with tuk-tuks, motorbikes and menacing green buses, and road manners so far from the polite Thai norm that you wonder if all the people driving are from this country at all.
Outside of Bangkok, driving in Thailand is all about winding country lanes, perfect-quality roads that would not shame an Australian or French highway department, gorgeous dual carriageways running alongside beautiful mountains, twisty forest roads with dappled sunlight, and spectacular mountain passes over windy ridges.
Pick any point on the compass from Bangkok, point your car in that direction, and you’re guaranteed an enjoyable driving experience once you escape the megalopolitan boundaries.
South, there’s the drive to Phuket: taking in Hua Hin, Prachuap and the pine-lined coastal road along the east side of the peninsula. The highway to Chumpon is excellent, but the small roads linking the coastal villages are more charming, with hardly another car to be seen for hours and hours of meandering.
The drive from one side of the peninsula to the other can be made via one of two routes; the northern road crosses from Chumpon to Rayong, skirts the Burmese border, and passes through lovely rolling hills and verdant fields. At the coast, the road turns south, twisting and turning with tantalising glimpses of the ocean all the way via Khao Lak to Phuket itself.
The more southern route, which is good for the journey back north, passes through Phang Nga province. The karst islands that make the bay of Phang Nga so famous can be seen here too; this time, however, not rising out of sea, but out of land. Cruising past these spectacular rock formations and seeing them up close from the car window makes for an excellent drive. East from there, the road passes for around 30 kilometres through a strange lost valley that could easily pass for the Garden of Eden.
North from Bangkok is made for driving holidays. Following the Chao Phraya via the small riverside roads; exploring the national parks west of Nakhon Sawan, with their high peaks and icy nighttime temperatures; turning west at Tak, following the mountainous Mae Hong Son loop along the Burmese border via sleepy Mae Sariang and bohemian Pai to end up in Chiang Mai the long way round; visiting the historical sites of Sukhothai and Ayutthaya; pushing north from Chiang Mai to the high altitude areas abutting Laos… the automotive options in this most gorgeous area of Thailand are endless.
Hotels are well-spaced, and you’ll always come across a tasteful lodge overlooking a river at the end of the day where you can sit in the cool night air while eating Thai food and drinking Heineken. It’s perfect motoring country and a driving trip here could take anything from a weekend to a couple of months, depending on how much you want to see and how slow you want to go.
West from the capital, the lush riverine country of Kanchanaburi offers massive reservoirs, wide slow-flowing rivers, untouched forests and some poignant historical reminders of what went on here from 1942 to 1945. Accommodation in the area varies from serene spiritual growth forest lodges to raft hotels floating on the river where you can sleep with nothing but the sound of the water flowing beneath you.
East from Bangkok lie roads to Pattaya, Koh Samet, Koh Chang and other islands near the Cambodian border; the beautiful country of the Khao Yai national park and wine-growing region; and the roads criss-crossing the fascinating hundred-mile-long canals of Pathum Thani, cut hundreds of years ago for transportation and irrigation.
And northeast is the legendary Isaan province, which could fill up a column of its own: perfectly designed for a driving holiday, with ancient Khmer temples on a par with Angkor Wat, tiny welcoming villages, interesting railway towns, quirky settlements populated with Swiss, Brits and Germans who have opted out of European life to marry into Isaan families, wild folk festivals and quirky customs, and the Mekong River always present, snaking along the border to create the Isaan Riviera, with luxurious hotels and restaurants at unheard-of low prices.
Personally, I’ve all but given up driving in Bangkok; and rarely even take taxis unless absolutely necessary. I’m much happier bypassing four-wheeled transport altogether: standing on the BTS, or perched on the back of a motorbike, or leaning out of the side of a riverboat. Anything where I don’t have to be involved in the control of the vehicle, where I can tune out, where the gridlock can’t affect me, where I can slither nonchalantly through, above, or around the permanent coronary-inducing standstill.
But most weekends, and any days off I can manufacture, I will be found behind the wheel: nosing down canalside dirt tracks, drifting along shadowy forest roads, seeking out obscure hot springs with a map and a GPS, cruising along reservoir shores on open highways towards obscure country resorts.
Thailand is made for driving. Just don’t tell the Bangkok Road Authority: the longer they remain uninvolved in the running of the rest of the country’s roads, the better.
Economy, class.
Another good thing about Bangkok I discovered as a result of buying the Fortuner: it’s a very good place to live on very little money.
Usually in Thailand, a car requires a 20% downpayment. However, for a foreigner who does not want the bother of being indebted to a Thai guarantor, that figure rises to 40%. This was not a particular problem – until the car was delivered a month ahead of schedule, one pay day too early.
Unable to bear the thought of the car standing unused in the showroom until the next infusion into my account, I cobbled the money together and drove it away as soon as it was delivered from the factory.
In the process, I left myself very little to live on until the next salary injection; and, by necessity, discovered a lifestyle just as enjoyable as the one where spending thousands of baht in one night out is a regular occurrence.
Eager to share the benefit of my experience, I present here my seven tips for living on less than you do now and enjoying things just as much.
Tip one: entertain at home. You can get a decent bottle of wine at the supermarket for less than 500 baht. A beer is only 25 baht. These prices are about a quarter of what you pay when you go out. Invite some friends over and sit around imbibing in the comfort of your own home. You can afford to be generous: playing the perfect host and paying for everything, you’ll still spend less than you would if you went out and split the bill. And your friends, being the honourable sorts that they no doubt are, will certainly reciprocate your hospitality at some time in the near future.
Tip two: cook for yourself. Thanks to Bangkok’s unfathomable economics, the ingredients for your meal will probably not cost less than you would pay for a single dish at a restaurant. But you will avoid the attendant expenses like chocolate cake, espressos, amaretto, parking fees and the couple of pirated CDs from the stall outside the restaurant that invariably accompany each meal.
You will probably end up eating more healthily, too. Over the couple of weeks of enforced economy, I perfected Bangkok’s best rocket salad, which has been directly responsible for at least a kilo of weight loss.
Tip three: lay off alcohol. During my enforced period of penury I went with two friends to a very pleasant al fresco Thai restaurant. Usually, this sort of excursion would automatically kick off with a couple of jugs of draught beer, followed by one or two more during the course of the meal. This time, we stuck to water, ate until we were fit to burst, and were shocked at the end of the night to discover that we had spent less than 300 baht per head. An attendant benefit: I was able to get up early on Saturday morning and enjoy a run through a city not yet solidified with traffic.
Tip four: eat at street stalls. Bangkok is full of stalls where people gather day and night for superb food freshly cooked in front of them. Quality is at least as high as more upmarket restaurants, and often higher, and the atmosphere is certainly much more vibrant; but individual dishes at these stalls come with price tags so low that I wonder how their proprietors make any sort of living at all.
Tip five: spend money on little things. If, like me, you’re not satisfied if you don’t spend something every time you step out of the front door, redirect your need for consumption towards smaller and longer lasting things. The weekend after taking delivery of the car, I bought some vanilla incense. Nothing very dramatic. But I scratched my itch to spend just as well as if I had spent ten times the amount; I was satisfied, and my apartment smelt delicious.
Tip six: make use of things you have already paid for. In my case, that meant the gym membership, the unlimited yoga package, and finally watching some of the dozens of DVDs I had bought over the past few months without taking them out of their plastic sleeves. I became slightly fitter, a bit more flexible, and suddenly knew what people were referring to when they quoted witty snips of dialogue from ‘Sideways’ and ‘The Life and Death of Peter Sellers.’
Tip seven: sit at home and think. I started to spend more time with my layout pad, jotting down ideas for movies, Playstation games and regional franchiseable food stalls. Who knows? Spending one night a week at home thinking creatively might mean that as well as spending less, you’ll end up making much more.
The next payday came and went quickly, and I soon returned to my customary profligate ways.
But going out every night can be just as uninteresting as staying in all the time. So, ever since then, I have been making efforts to balance things out by regularly enjoying the more economical way of living, and enjoy both modes all the more for it.
Usually in Thailand, a car requires a 20% downpayment. However, for a foreigner who does not want the bother of being indebted to a Thai guarantor, that figure rises to 40%. This was not a particular problem – until the car was delivered a month ahead of schedule, one pay day too early.
Unable to bear the thought of the car standing unused in the showroom until the next infusion into my account, I cobbled the money together and drove it away as soon as it was delivered from the factory.
In the process, I left myself very little to live on until the next salary injection; and, by necessity, discovered a lifestyle just as enjoyable as the one where spending thousands of baht in one night out is a regular occurrence.
Eager to share the benefit of my experience, I present here my seven tips for living on less than you do now and enjoying things just as much.
Tip one: entertain at home. You can get a decent bottle of wine at the supermarket for less than 500 baht. A beer is only 25 baht. These prices are about a quarter of what you pay when you go out. Invite some friends over and sit around imbibing in the comfort of your own home. You can afford to be generous: playing the perfect host and paying for everything, you’ll still spend less than you would if you went out and split the bill. And your friends, being the honourable sorts that they no doubt are, will certainly reciprocate your hospitality at some time in the near future.
Tip two: cook for yourself. Thanks to Bangkok’s unfathomable economics, the ingredients for your meal will probably not cost less than you would pay for a single dish at a restaurant. But you will avoid the attendant expenses like chocolate cake, espressos, amaretto, parking fees and the couple of pirated CDs from the stall outside the restaurant that invariably accompany each meal.
You will probably end up eating more healthily, too. Over the couple of weeks of enforced economy, I perfected Bangkok’s best rocket salad, which has been directly responsible for at least a kilo of weight loss.
Tip three: lay off alcohol. During my enforced period of penury I went with two friends to a very pleasant al fresco Thai restaurant. Usually, this sort of excursion would automatically kick off with a couple of jugs of draught beer, followed by one or two more during the course of the meal. This time, we stuck to water, ate until we were fit to burst, and were shocked at the end of the night to discover that we had spent less than 300 baht per head. An attendant benefit: I was able to get up early on Saturday morning and enjoy a run through a city not yet solidified with traffic.
Tip four: eat at street stalls. Bangkok is full of stalls where people gather day and night for superb food freshly cooked in front of them. Quality is at least as high as more upmarket restaurants, and often higher, and the atmosphere is certainly much more vibrant; but individual dishes at these stalls come with price tags so low that I wonder how their proprietors make any sort of living at all.
Tip five: spend money on little things. If, like me, you’re not satisfied if you don’t spend something every time you step out of the front door, redirect your need for consumption towards smaller and longer lasting things. The weekend after taking delivery of the car, I bought some vanilla incense. Nothing very dramatic. But I scratched my itch to spend just as well as if I had spent ten times the amount; I was satisfied, and my apartment smelt delicious.
Tip six: make use of things you have already paid for. In my case, that meant the gym membership, the unlimited yoga package, and finally watching some of the dozens of DVDs I had bought over the past few months without taking them out of their plastic sleeves. I became slightly fitter, a bit more flexible, and suddenly knew what people were referring to when they quoted witty snips of dialogue from ‘Sideways’ and ‘The Life and Death of Peter Sellers.’
Tip seven: sit at home and think. I started to spend more time with my layout pad, jotting down ideas for movies, Playstation games and regional franchiseable food stalls. Who knows? Spending one night a week at home thinking creatively might mean that as well as spending less, you’ll end up making much more.
The next payday came and went quickly, and I soon returned to my customary profligate ways.
But going out every night can be just as uninteresting as staying in all the time. So, ever since then, I have been making efforts to balance things out by regularly enjoying the more economical way of living, and enjoy both modes all the more for it.
Franchised frappucinos.
I’m sure it’s possible to have a good coffee at any Starbucks outlet. In fact I know it is: I’ve had my fair share of decent cappuccinos and espresso macchiatos at various places bearing the Starbucks name.
My complaint with the place isn’t the quality of the product – as long as you stick to the basics and avoid the bizarre jelly-choccy-icecream-frothy confections that they introduce on an all-too-regular basis.
My problem is that the whole thing just feels a bit too McDonalds for my liking. In terms of brand positioning, the green circular logo might as well be replaced with the golden arches for all the difference it would make. I feel it’s only a matter of time before they start offering Big Macs with their Frappucinos.
Starbucks is just so… everywhere. Whenever I walk into one, I feel like such a pleb; as if I’ve given up trying and this is all I could think of doing. And that’s not a good thing.
I wish there was a stylish Asian coffee brand, or several brands, that would take on Starbucks at its own game and repopulate our public spaces with some sort of individualism. It would make perfect sense for a café chain to come out of Vietnam. With Asia’s best coffee, and the innate Vietnamese sense of Franco-Oriental style, they shouldn’t find it too difficult to send the Americans packing. They’ve done it once before in another arena; repeating the feat on the coffee battlefield shouldn’t be too difficult.
My complaint with the place isn’t the quality of the product – as long as you stick to the basics and avoid the bizarre jelly-choccy-icecream-frothy confections that they introduce on an all-too-regular basis.
My problem is that the whole thing just feels a bit too McDonalds for my liking. In terms of brand positioning, the green circular logo might as well be replaced with the golden arches for all the difference it would make. I feel it’s only a matter of time before they start offering Big Macs with their Frappucinos.
Starbucks is just so… everywhere. Whenever I walk into one, I feel like such a pleb; as if I’ve given up trying and this is all I could think of doing. And that’s not a good thing.
I wish there was a stylish Asian coffee brand, or several brands, that would take on Starbucks at its own game and repopulate our public spaces with some sort of individualism. It would make perfect sense for a café chain to come out of Vietnam. With Asia’s best coffee, and the innate Vietnamese sense of Franco-Oriental style, they shouldn’t find it too difficult to send the Americans packing. They’ve done it once before in another arena; repeating the feat on the coffee battlefield shouldn’t be too difficult.
Weighty issues.
I used to be convinced that I had a weight problem. I spent many years despairing at the fact that despite a punishing exercise regimen, I was constantly several kilos heavier than I should be. I had resigned myself to the fact that I was always going to be carrying a bit too much weight, and would always be the chubby one in photos.
That all changed when I moved to Bangkok. For some reason, even though I probably eat more here than I have ever eaten before, I shed weight almost from the day I arrived and have managed to keep it off since then without any great effort.
I put it down to the liberal use of chilli, herbs and vinegar in Thai cooking: these things must contain some sort of weight-regulating minerals which effectively bring any individual’s weight into a desirable range.
Every now and then, though, as a result of overindulgence, the weight still creeps up. I like to keep myself at 78 kilos or less; but last Saturday morning, after eating too many ribs and drinking too many Heinekens at The Great American Rib Company in Sukhumvit Soi 36 the previous evening, not to mention a preceding full week of overconsumption, I was shocked to see that the scales settled at no less than 82 kilos.
I resolved to do something about it after the weekend and aimed to be back below 80 one week hence.
In the meantime, to try and shake off the effects of the night’s activities, I went to the gym. Still feeling a little fragile and not being in the mood for very much of anything in particular, I did about half an hour of weights followed by half an hour on the running machine before buying a newspaper and sitting in Convent Road for a late breakfast.
In the afternoon, to escape the heat, I disappeared into the darkness of the The King & I in Sukhumvit Soi 12 for a two-hour Thai massage. I am no novice when it comes to firm massages but this session was way beyond anything I have ever experienced in its vigour. The masseuse, who could not have been taller than four feet, possessed the strongest hands that have ever been laid upon my person; when she turned her attention to my legs it was all I could do not to cry out for mercy. Despite being the one receiving the massage rather than giving it, I worked up an intense sweat and felt like I had run a half-marathon when the allotted time came to a close.
With no particular place to go until later in the evening, and feeling a little bruised, I remained at The King & I for another two hours: this time for a soothing, yet still firm, oil massage. Showering afterwards, I noticed myself in the mirror: it must have been a slightly distorted reflection, I thought, as I looked ridiculously thin. I towelled myself dry, dressed, went out to dinner and thought no more about it.
The next morning was a toss-up between staying in bed to watch a Star Wars DVD or getting up and going to yoga. Yoga won out and I made my way to Yoga Elements in Chit Lom for a 90-minute intermediate session. For a relatively serene form of exercise, I always find yoga incredibly tough; to me, stretching and balancing is much harder than running miles or lifting heavy objects. This session was no exception and again I found myself perspiring liberally.
Getting home after yoga, I showered and, merely out of habit, stepped onto the scales again. The number that was to greet me on the display would shake me to my very foundations: from 82 kilos only twenty-four hours earlier, I was now 78.
Four kilos in one day. Without making any effort to stop eating, eat less, or adjust my diet in any way.
So: if you feel you could do with a few less pounds, here’s my weekend weight loss programme. Day One: in the morning, a session of weights followed immediately by a run of at least half an hour. In the afternoon, a vigorous Thai massage, followed by a not-too-soft oil massage.
Day Two: ninety minutes of yoga.
If you’re very keen, repeat this two-day sequence a few times. (I have a feeling that you may be able to skip one of the massages when you repeat, depending on how you feel, but not both.) I’m going to stick to it for about a week; I want to see what I look like at 75 kilos.
That all changed when I moved to Bangkok. For some reason, even though I probably eat more here than I have ever eaten before, I shed weight almost from the day I arrived and have managed to keep it off since then without any great effort.
I put it down to the liberal use of chilli, herbs and vinegar in Thai cooking: these things must contain some sort of weight-regulating minerals which effectively bring any individual’s weight into a desirable range.
Every now and then, though, as a result of overindulgence, the weight still creeps up. I like to keep myself at 78 kilos or less; but last Saturday morning, after eating too many ribs and drinking too many Heinekens at The Great American Rib Company in Sukhumvit Soi 36 the previous evening, not to mention a preceding full week of overconsumption, I was shocked to see that the scales settled at no less than 82 kilos.
I resolved to do something about it after the weekend and aimed to be back below 80 one week hence.
In the meantime, to try and shake off the effects of the night’s activities, I went to the gym. Still feeling a little fragile and not being in the mood for very much of anything in particular, I did about half an hour of weights followed by half an hour on the running machine before buying a newspaper and sitting in Convent Road for a late breakfast.
In the afternoon, to escape the heat, I disappeared into the darkness of the The King & I in Sukhumvit Soi 12 for a two-hour Thai massage. I am no novice when it comes to firm massages but this session was way beyond anything I have ever experienced in its vigour. The masseuse, who could not have been taller than four feet, possessed the strongest hands that have ever been laid upon my person; when she turned her attention to my legs it was all I could do not to cry out for mercy. Despite being the one receiving the massage rather than giving it, I worked up an intense sweat and felt like I had run a half-marathon when the allotted time came to a close.
With no particular place to go until later in the evening, and feeling a little bruised, I remained at The King & I for another two hours: this time for a soothing, yet still firm, oil massage. Showering afterwards, I noticed myself in the mirror: it must have been a slightly distorted reflection, I thought, as I looked ridiculously thin. I towelled myself dry, dressed, went out to dinner and thought no more about it.
The next morning was a toss-up between staying in bed to watch a Star Wars DVD or getting up and going to yoga. Yoga won out and I made my way to Yoga Elements in Chit Lom for a 90-minute intermediate session. For a relatively serene form of exercise, I always find yoga incredibly tough; to me, stretching and balancing is much harder than running miles or lifting heavy objects. This session was no exception and again I found myself perspiring liberally.
Getting home after yoga, I showered and, merely out of habit, stepped onto the scales again. The number that was to greet me on the display would shake me to my very foundations: from 82 kilos only twenty-four hours earlier, I was now 78.
Four kilos in one day. Without making any effort to stop eating, eat less, or adjust my diet in any way.
So: if you feel you could do with a few less pounds, here’s my weekend weight loss programme. Day One: in the morning, a session of weights followed immediately by a run of at least half an hour. In the afternoon, a vigorous Thai massage, followed by a not-too-soft oil massage.
Day Two: ninety minutes of yoga.
If you’re very keen, repeat this two-day sequence a few times. (I have a feeling that you may be able to skip one of the massages when you repeat, depending on how you feel, but not both.) I’m going to stick to it for about a week; I want to see what I look like at 75 kilos.
Home comforts.
On Saturday, leafing through the newspaper as I relaxed after my morning run, I came across an advertisement for a motorcycle rental centre.
This, combined with the glowing reports I had just read in the same publication about the accommodation options in a wine-growing area a couple of hours outside of Bangkok, put ideas in my head.
I pictured myself hiring a gleaming 900cc monster of Italian origin, kicking into gear, opening the throttle and gunning down the open road to the rural idyll of the Khao Yai area; staying overnight in some attractive vineyard lodge and, slightly sunburnt from the day’s travels, drinking cabernet sauvignon under the stars as the motorised steed cooled in the chilly evening air.
I showered, hopped in a cab and, driving licence in hand, made my way to the advertised establishment.
Images of cellars full of Chenin Blanc and Verdelho dissolved in the Bangkok morning heat as I cast my eye upon the sorriest collection of two-wheeled transport I have ever come across.
I spent no more than fifteen seconds perusing the dilapidated, oily, downright lethal-looking contraptions on display before turning on my heel and hopping back into the same cab before the driver had had a chance to put my original fare in his pocket.
From there, my bemused driver and I made our way to Thonglor, where a new branch of the famous Greyhound Café has just opened in the half-finished Soi 15 complex.
Horrendous traffic meant that the 3-kilometre journey took 45 minutes, most of that time spent stationary on a bridge, sun burning through the back window onto my neck, giving me the opportunity to watch the canal boats whizzing below me on their way to the same destination – a journey which would take them four minutes.
Upon arrival, the good news kept on coming. The coffee was insipid; the CD coming through the speakers cannot have been changed since 1988; and there was a very odd smell coming from the kitchen.
Undeterred, I endured another snail’s pace taxi ride – 1.4 kilometres in 26 minutes – to the Emporium shopping mall to buy a new set of speakers. The apologetic salesperson pleasantly advised me that the model I sought had just sold out the previous day. Attempts to purchase a new coffee machine met with a similar obstacle.
Down to Villa supermarket I went to buy some delicacies. Twenty minutes spent filling my trolley came to nought as the supermarket’s card reader was not in service, rendering my MasterCard Electronic and credit cards impotent, the cash in my pocket insufficient to cover the total amount.
After such a litany of joy, there was only one option: make the few essential purchases that the cash available to me would allow. Get back home as quickly as possible. And stay there.
Another taxi was out of the question. The traffic in Sukhumvit Road had not moved in thirty minutes, and the temperature on the road cannot have been less than fifty degrees Celsius. I stoically climbed the steps to the BTS, paused for oxygen at the summit, and steeled myself for the journey home via public transport.
Twenty minutes, one BTS stop, one MRT change and a short motorbike ride later, I was positioned under the powerful blast of a cold shower and firmly convinced that I would not open the front door again before the sun went down.
The rest of the day was a spectacular success. Air-conditioning on, west-facing blinds pulled down against the sun. A repeated viewing of Phillip Noyce’s excellent The Quiet American on DVD. The Financial Times weekend edition complete with magazine, a few ice-cold Finlandias and tonics with fresh lime. Leafing through the Conde Nast Traveller readers’ awards, in which Singapore scored spectacularly, Bangkok almost as well, and Bali reassumed its rightful position as The World’s Best Island. (Even if the editorial team of the magazine are unwilling to recognise Asia’s charms, their readership clearly are not.)
The afternoon continued: shadows grew longer, sunlight more golden. The occasional long gaze out of the east-facing windows into the mesmerisingly lush foliage of the garden. A tentative start to reading Che Guevara’s Bolivian Diary. Half an hour with a pencil and layout pad dreaming up business ideas, and a brief period creating a new ‘Saturday afternoon’ playlist on I-tunes.
Another DVD, this time Wong Kar-Wai’s gay Argentina odyssey Happy Together starring the tragically late Leslie Cheung, and suddenly it was time to start thinking about dinner.
In keeping with the domestic spirit of the day, a couple of friends were invited over, chosen for their homes’ proximity and the ease with which they could travel to my abode. Lights and music were set to low. And a very pleasant evening was spent with a few chilled bottles of decent French rosé bought from Vientiane a few weeks earlier, some cold cuts, a small selection of cheese and a fair number of cold hard-boiled eggs.
Later, I received reports from other friends who had ventured out on Saturday night. By all accounts, evening traffic was even worse than during daylight hours. Roads radiated heat stored from the day’s sunshine. And in scenes reminiscent of Phnom Penh in 1975, Bangkok’s population seemed suddenly to have tripled, judging by the number of people on the streets.
Bangkok’s charms are many. But some days, it’s just one of those days. Some days, it’s just better to stay home.
This, combined with the glowing reports I had just read in the same publication about the accommodation options in a wine-growing area a couple of hours outside of Bangkok, put ideas in my head.
I pictured myself hiring a gleaming 900cc monster of Italian origin, kicking into gear, opening the throttle and gunning down the open road to the rural idyll of the Khao Yai area; staying overnight in some attractive vineyard lodge and, slightly sunburnt from the day’s travels, drinking cabernet sauvignon under the stars as the motorised steed cooled in the chilly evening air.
I showered, hopped in a cab and, driving licence in hand, made my way to the advertised establishment.
Images of cellars full of Chenin Blanc and Verdelho dissolved in the Bangkok morning heat as I cast my eye upon the sorriest collection of two-wheeled transport I have ever come across.
I spent no more than fifteen seconds perusing the dilapidated, oily, downright lethal-looking contraptions on display before turning on my heel and hopping back into the same cab before the driver had had a chance to put my original fare in his pocket.
From there, my bemused driver and I made our way to Thonglor, where a new branch of the famous Greyhound Café has just opened in the half-finished Soi 15 complex.
Horrendous traffic meant that the 3-kilometre journey took 45 minutes, most of that time spent stationary on a bridge, sun burning through the back window onto my neck, giving me the opportunity to watch the canal boats whizzing below me on their way to the same destination – a journey which would take them four minutes.
Upon arrival, the good news kept on coming. The coffee was insipid; the CD coming through the speakers cannot have been changed since 1988; and there was a very odd smell coming from the kitchen.
Undeterred, I endured another snail’s pace taxi ride – 1.4 kilometres in 26 minutes – to the Emporium shopping mall to buy a new set of speakers. The apologetic salesperson pleasantly advised me that the model I sought had just sold out the previous day. Attempts to purchase a new coffee machine met with a similar obstacle.
Down to Villa supermarket I went to buy some delicacies. Twenty minutes spent filling my trolley came to nought as the supermarket’s card reader was not in service, rendering my MasterCard Electronic and credit cards impotent, the cash in my pocket insufficient to cover the total amount.
After such a litany of joy, there was only one option: make the few essential purchases that the cash available to me would allow. Get back home as quickly as possible. And stay there.
Another taxi was out of the question. The traffic in Sukhumvit Road had not moved in thirty minutes, and the temperature on the road cannot have been less than fifty degrees Celsius. I stoically climbed the steps to the BTS, paused for oxygen at the summit, and steeled myself for the journey home via public transport.
Twenty minutes, one BTS stop, one MRT change and a short motorbike ride later, I was positioned under the powerful blast of a cold shower and firmly convinced that I would not open the front door again before the sun went down.
The rest of the day was a spectacular success. Air-conditioning on, west-facing blinds pulled down against the sun. A repeated viewing of Phillip Noyce’s excellent The Quiet American on DVD. The Financial Times weekend edition complete with magazine, a few ice-cold Finlandias and tonics with fresh lime. Leafing through the Conde Nast Traveller readers’ awards, in which Singapore scored spectacularly, Bangkok almost as well, and Bali reassumed its rightful position as The World’s Best Island. (Even if the editorial team of the magazine are unwilling to recognise Asia’s charms, their readership clearly are not.)
The afternoon continued: shadows grew longer, sunlight more golden. The occasional long gaze out of the east-facing windows into the mesmerisingly lush foliage of the garden. A tentative start to reading Che Guevara’s Bolivian Diary. Half an hour with a pencil and layout pad dreaming up business ideas, and a brief period creating a new ‘Saturday afternoon’ playlist on I-tunes.
Another DVD, this time Wong Kar-Wai’s gay Argentina odyssey Happy Together starring the tragically late Leslie Cheung, and suddenly it was time to start thinking about dinner.
In keeping with the domestic spirit of the day, a couple of friends were invited over, chosen for their homes’ proximity and the ease with which they could travel to my abode. Lights and music were set to low. And a very pleasant evening was spent with a few chilled bottles of decent French rosé bought from Vientiane a few weeks earlier, some cold cuts, a small selection of cheese and a fair number of cold hard-boiled eggs.
Later, I received reports from other friends who had ventured out on Saturday night. By all accounts, evening traffic was even worse than during daylight hours. Roads radiated heat stored from the day’s sunshine. And in scenes reminiscent of Phnom Penh in 1975, Bangkok’s population seemed suddenly to have tripled, judging by the number of people on the streets.
Bangkok’s charms are many. But some days, it’s just one of those days. Some days, it’s just better to stay home.
Population movement.
The best way to travel short distances in Bangkok is undoubtedly the motorbike taxi. I appreciate that many people will dismiss the idea as a result of safety concerns, and I would never ride pillion on any sort of major thoroughfare. But the two-wheeled form of transport is perfect for weaving through the congestion in small sois and getting to your destination in reasonable time.
Used intelligently, the combination of BTS, MRT, river or canal boat, and the squad of motorbike taxis congregating around every station exit and pier actually make door-to-door travel around Bangkok much more convenient than other apparently more advanced big cities around Asia.
Used intelligently, the combination of BTS, MRT, river or canal boat, and the squad of motorbike taxis congregating around every station exit and pier actually make door-to-door travel around Bangkok much more convenient than other apparently more advanced big cities around Asia.
Seeds of success.
Bangkok must be the easiest place in the world to achieve the recommended daily fruit intake.
You can barely walk ten metres on any pavement without having to sidestep a cart selling fresh dragonfruit, pomelo or guava. Or pre-cut slices of pineapple and mango, conveniently packaged for instant consumption.
Apart from the exotic fruits cultivated in Thailand, these stalls also offer delicacies of foreign origin in much greater variety than supermarkets. Cherries, strawberries and pomegranates seem to be available all year round.
On any given morning, I can be found at home lifting the lid from my blender and throwing in a large amount of fruit which has been purchased from a selection of street stalls.
Any combination of fruit is good. But as well as being healthy, sometimes my random attempts produce a truly delicious result. In my experience, it pays to keep things simple – perhaps two fruits, sometimes with a third complementary addition.
Memorable successes so far have been dragonfruit and kiwifruit with mint; orange and lime; mango with cherry; and strawberries with lemon.
Despite Bangkok’s reputation for being somewhat less than the world’s healthiest city, my vast and varied fruit intake must make some contribution to the fact that I have never felt healthier than I do now.
You can barely walk ten metres on any pavement without having to sidestep a cart selling fresh dragonfruit, pomelo or guava. Or pre-cut slices of pineapple and mango, conveniently packaged for instant consumption.
Apart from the exotic fruits cultivated in Thailand, these stalls also offer delicacies of foreign origin in much greater variety than supermarkets. Cherries, strawberries and pomegranates seem to be available all year round.
On any given morning, I can be found at home lifting the lid from my blender and throwing in a large amount of fruit which has been purchased from a selection of street stalls.
Any combination of fruit is good. But as well as being healthy, sometimes my random attempts produce a truly delicious result. In my experience, it pays to keep things simple – perhaps two fruits, sometimes with a third complementary addition.
Memorable successes so far have been dragonfruit and kiwifruit with mint; orange and lime; mango with cherry; and strawberries with lemon.
Despite Bangkok’s reputation for being somewhat less than the world’s healthiest city, my vast and varied fruit intake must make some contribution to the fact that I have never felt healthier than I do now.
Making a crust.
Best place for pizza in Bangkok: a toss-up between Scoozi, in Surawong Road, and L’Opera wine bar in Sukhumvit 39.
Wherever she goes, a friend of mine always eats the house pizza, no matter what it is: she says it’s always the best. At Scoozi, I took her advice and ordered the Pizza Scoozi: Gorgonzola and Speck expertly cooked in the essential wood-fired oven.
Excellent, although the Diavola or Vesuvio provide tough competition for those who like their spice.
Scoozi has been around for ages, but I never went until they moved to this new location. The place is nicely done. The long shared benches, where you rub shoulders with strangers, make for a convivial atmosphere. Good espresso cake too.
At L’Opera, a similar strong cheese and dried ham combination exists, which is also superb. No particular recommendations here, though: throw a dart at the pizza menu and no matter where it lands, you can look forward to a first-class experience.
Wherever she goes, a friend of mine always eats the house pizza, no matter what it is: she says it’s always the best. At Scoozi, I took her advice and ordered the Pizza Scoozi: Gorgonzola and Speck expertly cooked in the essential wood-fired oven.
Excellent, although the Diavola or Vesuvio provide tough competition for those who like their spice.
Scoozi has been around for ages, but I never went until they moved to this new location. The place is nicely done. The long shared benches, where you rub shoulders with strangers, make for a convivial atmosphere. Good espresso cake too.
At L’Opera, a similar strong cheese and dried ham combination exists, which is also superb. No particular recommendations here, though: throw a dart at the pizza menu and no matter where it lands, you can look forward to a first-class experience.
Middle Feast.
Most Western capital cities have areas where immigrant ethnic minorities congregate. Whether it be ex-colonial peoples settling in the mother country, descendants of refugees fleeing communist upheavals in the turbulent cold war years, guest workers deciding to stay after completing their contracts, or simply people attracted by liberal immigration policies, metropolises from Sydney to Stockholm all have their own areas populated primarily with non-natives, making for a colourful urban fabric and a cosmopolitan atmosphere - not to mention a vastly improved culinary outlook. This phenomenon is not quite so common in Asia. No Little Saigon in Singapore; no Polishtown in Phnom Penh.
One interesting exception to this rule is the area around Bangkok’s Sukhumvit Soi 3.
Walk down the steps from Nana train station, run the gauntlet of cheap luggage sellers and bad Italian restaurants along the north side of Sukhumvit Road, and turn right into Soi 3/1. Walk a few metres into the soi, rub your eyes, blink a couple of times, then look around you.
Chances are there will be very few visual clues that you have not been magically whisked from the Thai capital and instantly transported to a destination thousands of miles from the Sukhumvit-Nana intersection.
Not a Thai to be seen; rather, the faces you see around you are all African or Middle Eastern. The smell of cooked lamb floats through the air while exotically wrapped women shimmer past you. Brightly lit signs advertise unheard-of products in Arabic and post-colonial North African French.
You have reached Bangkok’s Little Arabia; or Soi Arab, as the Thais call it.
I have spent many an evening on outdoor terraces eating excellent hummus and tabouleh at various eateries here while satellite TV broadcast live from Cairo or Dubai blares out across the sois. I have lingered over the aromatic smoke of a cinnamon or apple shisha, observing the comings and goings of the mysterious residents of this quarter.
Little laneways are crammed with tiny shops piled high with shoes and children’s clothes. Travel agents’ windows offer fares to Abidjan, Kinshasa and Beirut. The Syrian ambassador holds court in his glass-fronted embassy. Jittery American tourists, having clearly taken a wrong turn in their quest for the nearby Subway sandwich franchise, glance nervously about them before making quietly for the nearest exit as if slipping from a lion’s den.
What exactly goes on here is not something I can put my finger on. Why the place has developed at all is a question to which I have no answer. But it is certainly an interesting and very welcome addition to Bangkok’s already palatable cocktail.
One interesting exception to this rule is the area around Bangkok’s Sukhumvit Soi 3.
Walk down the steps from Nana train station, run the gauntlet of cheap luggage sellers and bad Italian restaurants along the north side of Sukhumvit Road, and turn right into Soi 3/1. Walk a few metres into the soi, rub your eyes, blink a couple of times, then look around you.
Chances are there will be very few visual clues that you have not been magically whisked from the Thai capital and instantly transported to a destination thousands of miles from the Sukhumvit-Nana intersection.
Not a Thai to be seen; rather, the faces you see around you are all African or Middle Eastern. The smell of cooked lamb floats through the air while exotically wrapped women shimmer past you. Brightly lit signs advertise unheard-of products in Arabic and post-colonial North African French.
You have reached Bangkok’s Little Arabia; or Soi Arab, as the Thais call it.
I have spent many an evening on outdoor terraces eating excellent hummus and tabouleh at various eateries here while satellite TV broadcast live from Cairo or Dubai blares out across the sois. I have lingered over the aromatic smoke of a cinnamon or apple shisha, observing the comings and goings of the mysterious residents of this quarter.
Little laneways are crammed with tiny shops piled high with shoes and children’s clothes. Travel agents’ windows offer fares to Abidjan, Kinshasa and Beirut. The Syrian ambassador holds court in his glass-fronted embassy. Jittery American tourists, having clearly taken a wrong turn in their quest for the nearby Subway sandwich franchise, glance nervously about them before making quietly for the nearest exit as if slipping from a lion’s den.
What exactly goes on here is not something I can put my finger on. Why the place has developed at all is a question to which I have no answer. But it is certainly an interesting and very welcome addition to Bangkok’s already palatable cocktail.
Lovely buns.
Singing the praises of a humble burger might be a departure from the usual range of topics featured in this column. But on this occasion, it’s something I simply have to do. And at any rate, the creation in question is anything but humble.
Today I can confidently announce that I have discovered the world’s best burger.
Not one of the famous seventy-dollar burgers in New York; not the home-cooked greasy English version with delicious fried onions – as good as both of these examples are. No.
The world’s best burger, my own opinion being backed up by many others who care about such things, is a distinctly Asian creation and is available for a very modest amount of money at any MosBurger outlet.
It’s the Mosburger Teriyaki Beef Burger. Yet one more example of Japan taking Western creations and, with a little twist, making them better and more desirable.
With every burger at the Japanese chain freshly made to order, the MosBurger dining experience stretches the definition of fast food somewhat. Patrons have to display a little more patience than they are accustomed to showing at Burger King or McDonalds. But the wait is more than worth it.
When you’ve placed your order, taken your number and your peach iced tea to your seat and the seemingly interminable period of preparation is over, the Teriyaki Beef Burger is delivered to your table in a little plastic basket that gives no hint of the delights to come.
Unwrap the burger from its brightly-coloured paper. Arrange it so the open side of the bun faces you. And take a bite. The combination of soft white bun, perfectly cooked high-quality Japanese beef, fresh crunchy lettuce, teriyaki sauce and piquant, cool mayonnaise is nothing less than heavenly.
Even the size of the burger is perfect. It’s considerably smaller than a Whopper, which is no bad thing. The burger’s petite dimensions make it a guilt-free indulgence, and leave you slightly unsatisfied with a delicious yearning for more; a very poetic Japanese concept.
It’s an experience I aim to repeat on at least a weekly basis for the rest of my days.
Today I can confidently announce that I have discovered the world’s best burger.
Not one of the famous seventy-dollar burgers in New York; not the home-cooked greasy English version with delicious fried onions – as good as both of these examples are. No.
The world’s best burger, my own opinion being backed up by many others who care about such things, is a distinctly Asian creation and is available for a very modest amount of money at any MosBurger outlet.
It’s the Mosburger Teriyaki Beef Burger. Yet one more example of Japan taking Western creations and, with a little twist, making them better and more desirable.
With every burger at the Japanese chain freshly made to order, the MosBurger dining experience stretches the definition of fast food somewhat. Patrons have to display a little more patience than they are accustomed to showing at Burger King or McDonalds. But the wait is more than worth it.
When you’ve placed your order, taken your number and your peach iced tea to your seat and the seemingly interminable period of preparation is over, the Teriyaki Beef Burger is delivered to your table in a little plastic basket that gives no hint of the delights to come.
Unwrap the burger from its brightly-coloured paper. Arrange it so the open side of the bun faces you. And take a bite. The combination of soft white bun, perfectly cooked high-quality Japanese beef, fresh crunchy lettuce, teriyaki sauce and piquant, cool mayonnaise is nothing less than heavenly.
Even the size of the burger is perfect. It’s considerably smaller than a Whopper, which is no bad thing. The burger’s petite dimensions make it a guilt-free indulgence, and leave you slightly unsatisfied with a delicious yearning for more; a very poetic Japanese concept.
It’s an experience I aim to repeat on at least a weekly basis for the rest of my days.
Marathon effort.
Despite being top of the list when it comes to the world’s most crowded places, many of Asia’s capital cities are surprisingly pleasant places for a morning run.
Hong Kong has its mountainous country parks. Singapore has its beachside running tracks, its forest paths and its thousands of clean, runner-friendly streets.
But in Bangkok, you can forget about looking for leafy parks, oxygen-rich forests, and rocky mountain paths, because there aren’t any.
There are of course a couple of token green spaces, which I’m sure must have been pleasant at some point in history. But plodding around Lumpini or Benjasiri, with their wobbly bike-riders, mad plastic souvenir sellers and out-of-tune early morning pensioners’ karaoke groups, is not my idea of fun.
I find the best running option in the Thai capital is simply to forget any thought of being at one with nature, bite the bullet and go urban.
Running through the crowded back sois keeps you on your toes and adds another element to your exercise as you dodge tuk tuks, leap out of the path of Red Bull-fuelled motorbike riders and outrun stray street dogs who feel you have encroached on their precious patch of filth.
What’s more, the interesting morning activities of the Thais, who seem to live their lives in public when in their own neighbourhoods, give you something to look at and make your exertions pass quickly.
After you have ran past women getting their hair done in the street before work, at stalls next to butchers chopping up ducks for lunch and dentists in shop windows operating on their patients in full view of passers by, there’s a remote possibility that you’ll always feel something is lacking when you hit the trails in your nearest tropical forest or deserted country park.
Hong Kong has its mountainous country parks. Singapore has its beachside running tracks, its forest paths and its thousands of clean, runner-friendly streets.
But in Bangkok, you can forget about looking for leafy parks, oxygen-rich forests, and rocky mountain paths, because there aren’t any.
There are of course a couple of token green spaces, which I’m sure must have been pleasant at some point in history. But plodding around Lumpini or Benjasiri, with their wobbly bike-riders, mad plastic souvenir sellers and out-of-tune early morning pensioners’ karaoke groups, is not my idea of fun.
I find the best running option in the Thai capital is simply to forget any thought of being at one with nature, bite the bullet and go urban.
Running through the crowded back sois keeps you on your toes and adds another element to your exercise as you dodge tuk tuks, leap out of the path of Red Bull-fuelled motorbike riders and outrun stray street dogs who feel you have encroached on their precious patch of filth.
What’s more, the interesting morning activities of the Thais, who seem to live their lives in public when in their own neighbourhoods, give you something to look at and make your exertions pass quickly.
After you have ran past women getting their hair done in the street before work, at stalls next to butchers chopping up ducks for lunch and dentists in shop windows operating on their patients in full view of passers by, there’s a remote possibility that you’ll always feel something is lacking when you hit the trails in your nearest tropical forest or deserted country park.
Diplomatic immunity.
If a national embassy is the physical expression of the values of a country overseas, then there must be some truly awful countries in this world.
Most of the embassies in Bangkok are nondescript affairs: small suites in anonymous office blocks; converted houses ill-suited to the task of housing a diplomatic staff; or tacky 1970s monstrosities that were without a doubt hopelessly outdated before the cement was even dry. (Yes, Australia, I am talking about you.)
Happily, as ever, there are exceptions to the majority. Some countries obviously recognise the importance of showing a dignified front to the world, not to mention placing some value on the pride their nationals are able to feel when strolling through the doors of a suitably grand edifice representing their country.
Fittingly, for the European country that was first off the blocks in arriving in Asia, the crème de la crème of ambassadorial style is represented by none other than the Portuguese. It’s impossible to beat a beautiful, high-walled residence that has been on the same site for nigh on two hundred years. The lush location of the Portuguese Embassy on the banks of the Chao Phraya places the Atlantic Republic squarely in the number one spot in this particular ranking.
But before Portuguese readers start breaking out the bacalhau and vinho verde in celebration, they should know that their accolade is a shared one. Their fellow Europeans, the French, can lay claim to an identically beautiful location. Slightly further south than Portugal’s site, the French embassy looks across a perfectly-tended lawn onto the river, affording passengers on river transport the opportunity to gaze longingly at its perfectly-proportioned Doric columns shaded by old tropical palms.
In keeping their beautiful riverside sites, the Portuguese and the French displayed a foresight that the British sadly lacked – and continue to lack. They sold their riverside plot a long time ago in favour of cheaper land in Ploenchit. (Old habits die hard; now they’ve been offered a decent price, they’ve sold most of that plot too, and yet another shopping mall is being built on the land as I write. If they continue the trend, the world’s fourth largest economy will soon be represented in Bangkok by a small prefabricated hut in outer Ladprao. In this listing, the British get zero points.)
The French score extra points for their additional Sathorn Road visa section, coupled with the neighbouring Alliance Francaise. A tropical modernist gem with a café attached open to the general public, and a comprehensive public education programme in French, Thai and English, the Republique Francaise really punches above its weight when it comes to contributing to the cultural life of the city.
Holland, as may be expected from a nation with such a strong design sensibility, offers a positive contribution to the architectural mosaic of Bangkok with a suitably elegant offering. Its main entrance on the wonderfully leafy Soi Tonson – appropriately, requiring a short walk across a canal – the Netherlands Embassy is a decent example of early 90s design and Hollanders could be forgiven for feeling a little pride that their embassy has more to offer in the way of aesthetic appeal than those of many much larger countries (the neighbouring US embassy included).
Another country that clearly recognises the fact that a small population doesn’t have to mean an anonymous diplomatic presence is Singapore. On Sathorn Road, a few hundred metres past the hideous orange Australian offering, the stylishly low-slung Singapore embassy is an exercise in taste and refinement. From the untreated concrete walls with their Tadao Ando-style regular punched holes to the distressed metal and classic typography on the signage, the designers in the island republic clearly have the right books in their reference library. In fact, it can be no coincidence that as soon as the newly-built Singapore embassy opened, the Saudi embassy next door was pulled down and construction began just days after. This sort of healthy international rivalry is more than welcome by the design-minded diplomatic observer.
In Wireless Road, the new Japanese Embassy is not so much a diplomatic facility as an entire neighbourhood. Covering an entire city block and then some, the Japanese must have some very serious business indeed in Thailand to justify such an enormous construction.
Portugal, France, Holland, Singapore, Japan: all worthy competitors. But all, surprisingly, beaten by the newest-built embassy in the city: an embassy representing a country that would normally never in a million years be associated with outstanding modernist architecture.
On the route linking Sukhumvit Soi 49 with Asoke, behind the main Sukhumvit Road and only a few doors away from Spring/Summer, an incredible new construction has been taking shape over the past few months. It would not be out of place in Paris as a gorgeous new state-funded art gallery; it would fit perfectly in Oslo as an airport terminal or hotel. Two stunning glass cubes, a concrete walkway surrounding a rectangular lake, a beautiful manicured lawn and spectacular lighting at night. Luckily for Bangkok residents, it is none of these things: rather, it is, incredibly, the embassy of the Islamic Republic of Iran in Thailand.
They can continue with their dubious nuclear programme; they can elect all the loopy presidents they want; they can make all the belligerent threats to neighbouring countries they see fit. As long as they keep building structures as beautiful as this, all is forgiven.
Most of the embassies in Bangkok are nondescript affairs: small suites in anonymous office blocks; converted houses ill-suited to the task of housing a diplomatic staff; or tacky 1970s monstrosities that were without a doubt hopelessly outdated before the cement was even dry. (Yes, Australia, I am talking about you.)
Happily, as ever, there are exceptions to the majority. Some countries obviously recognise the importance of showing a dignified front to the world, not to mention placing some value on the pride their nationals are able to feel when strolling through the doors of a suitably grand edifice representing their country.
Fittingly, for the European country that was first off the blocks in arriving in Asia, the crème de la crème of ambassadorial style is represented by none other than the Portuguese. It’s impossible to beat a beautiful, high-walled residence that has been on the same site for nigh on two hundred years. The lush location of the Portuguese Embassy on the banks of the Chao Phraya places the Atlantic Republic squarely in the number one spot in this particular ranking.
But before Portuguese readers start breaking out the bacalhau and vinho verde in celebration, they should know that their accolade is a shared one. Their fellow Europeans, the French, can lay claim to an identically beautiful location. Slightly further south than Portugal’s site, the French embassy looks across a perfectly-tended lawn onto the river, affording passengers on river transport the opportunity to gaze longingly at its perfectly-proportioned Doric columns shaded by old tropical palms.
In keeping their beautiful riverside sites, the Portuguese and the French displayed a foresight that the British sadly lacked – and continue to lack. They sold their riverside plot a long time ago in favour of cheaper land in Ploenchit. (Old habits die hard; now they’ve been offered a decent price, they’ve sold most of that plot too, and yet another shopping mall is being built on the land as I write. If they continue the trend, the world’s fourth largest economy will soon be represented in Bangkok by a small prefabricated hut in outer Ladprao. In this listing, the British get zero points.)
The French score extra points for their additional Sathorn Road visa section, coupled with the neighbouring Alliance Francaise. A tropical modernist gem with a café attached open to the general public, and a comprehensive public education programme in French, Thai and English, the Republique Francaise really punches above its weight when it comes to contributing to the cultural life of the city.
Holland, as may be expected from a nation with such a strong design sensibility, offers a positive contribution to the architectural mosaic of Bangkok with a suitably elegant offering. Its main entrance on the wonderfully leafy Soi Tonson – appropriately, requiring a short walk across a canal – the Netherlands Embassy is a decent example of early 90s design and Hollanders could be forgiven for feeling a little pride that their embassy has more to offer in the way of aesthetic appeal than those of many much larger countries (the neighbouring US embassy included).
Another country that clearly recognises the fact that a small population doesn’t have to mean an anonymous diplomatic presence is Singapore. On Sathorn Road, a few hundred metres past the hideous orange Australian offering, the stylishly low-slung Singapore embassy is an exercise in taste and refinement. From the untreated concrete walls with their Tadao Ando-style regular punched holes to the distressed metal and classic typography on the signage, the designers in the island republic clearly have the right books in their reference library. In fact, it can be no coincidence that as soon as the newly-built Singapore embassy opened, the Saudi embassy next door was pulled down and construction began just days after. This sort of healthy international rivalry is more than welcome by the design-minded diplomatic observer.
In Wireless Road, the new Japanese Embassy is not so much a diplomatic facility as an entire neighbourhood. Covering an entire city block and then some, the Japanese must have some very serious business indeed in Thailand to justify such an enormous construction.
Portugal, France, Holland, Singapore, Japan: all worthy competitors. But all, surprisingly, beaten by the newest-built embassy in the city: an embassy representing a country that would normally never in a million years be associated with outstanding modernist architecture.
On the route linking Sukhumvit Soi 49 with Asoke, behind the main Sukhumvit Road and only a few doors away from Spring/Summer, an incredible new construction has been taking shape over the past few months. It would not be out of place in Paris as a gorgeous new state-funded art gallery; it would fit perfectly in Oslo as an airport terminal or hotel. Two stunning glass cubes, a concrete walkway surrounding a rectangular lake, a beautiful manicured lawn and spectacular lighting at night. Luckily for Bangkok residents, it is none of these things: rather, it is, incredibly, the embassy of the Islamic Republic of Iran in Thailand.
They can continue with their dubious nuclear programme; they can elect all the loopy presidents they want; they can make all the belligerent threats to neighbouring countries they see fit. As long as they keep building structures as beautiful as this, all is forgiven.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
4 nights in Bangkok.
For Bangkok residents, the options for weekends away are almost unlimited. Whether it be wandering through the wats at Angkor, sipping chablis in Saigon, or busting sanctions in Burma, Bangkokians are spoilt for choice.
But sometimes the traditional options are still the best. Since the Bangkok-Singapore railway opened in the 1930s, Hua Hin has been the first port of call for Khon Krungthep looking for a dose of fresh sea air. But these days, the venerable resort boasts more than cheap seafood and famous mango sticky rice. There’s now just enough to see style-conscious escapees from the City of Angels through three nights and two days without letting the hip quotient slip. Here’s your schedule for your next visit.
Friday: fabricate an afternoon meeting with a client in Bang Na, from which you won’t be returning. Hop into the car, blast over the Rama 3 Bridge, and make the run down the coast, stopping only to buy salt and fresh limes from the vendors along the road to cut into your frozen margaritas. Hit the royal retreat by 5pm. Settle in, have a swim, take a walk along the beach.
Friday night: spend the evening at Let’s Sea, quite possibly the most beautiful seaside restaurant in Thailand. Get there before sunset. Concrete, wood, straight lines and great cocktails right on the shore will get the night off to a good start: superb Thai food, from the sea and elsewhere, will make for a satisfying continuation.
Saturday night: Staying with the modern Thai theme, book a seaside table at Supatra’s. The famous Bangkok riverside restaurant now has a sibling, and it’s just as good, with just as beautiful a setting.
On Sunday afternoon, Hua Hin empties and the road back to the capital clogs up with tanned weekenders making their way back to the grind. You, however, are smarter than that: you’ll be remaining to enjoy the quiet Sunday night atmosphere at the modern al fresco Japanese restaurant attached to the Sofitel. The crossroads location gives you a ringside seat to watch the laid-back Sunday night crowd as you slurp up your soba or snack on your sashimi, and is perfectly positioned for the short after-dinner walk to the gelateria for a single cone of Amaretto ice cream.
Monday morning sees you up at dawn for a run along the beach, a final seaside breakfast, a quick shower and a jump back into the car. Early morning traffic from Hua Hin is light, and you’ll easily be back at your desk by normal time before the boss finishes reading the paper and sets out for his daily rounds.
Repeat often for best results: the four-nights-in-Bangkok, three-in-Hua-Hin weekly schedule does wonders for stress levels and skin tone while still allowing you to hold down your job with a five-day working week.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Bangkok's best coffee.
Up until recently, the best coffee in Bangkok - in my estimation - has been at my place, made with the Bialetti Mukka Express. Perfect caffe latte and a good cappuccino. But then I discovered Vivi Coffee. This place offers a truly perfect cappuccino, made on a huge old Italian machine, with proper 'stand-up' foam on the top. Add to that the view of the river and the temple across the water, and this place is one of Bangkok's best finds. Get there on the boat for the most enjoyable experience - get off at Pak Klong Talat. Unbeatable.
For the location, click here.
For the location, click here.
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