Unearthing the Urban Jungle

Location:
Thailand

Bangkok, food, heat

By Laura Hancock

The term “urban jungle”’ is old hat, but as soon as I stepped off the plane into Bangkok’s humidity and chaos, I knew I had opened to the textbook definition of the phrase.

I was traveling with a Thai friend, so I (and my two other friends) let her guide through the crowd of touts in the terminal hawking hotels, tour guides, and taxis on our way to luggage claim. I stared at the indecipherable signs as she graciously located a ride and exchanged for baht.

Urban jungle, indeed. Where Japan was restrained, controlled and mechanic, Thailand was sultry, colorful, and downright wild in comparison.

On that first night we walked the dark streets looking for dinner. The sidewalks cracked, the overpasses home to a gaggle of beggars, who shook cups that rattled with coins and spoke minimal English. The chorus of “hellos” followed us down the other side of the overpass.

We passed by a food stall, where a vendor spoke to my Thai friend, setting out a basket of skewered fish, mouths and eyes open and shining.

My Thai friend waved a hand before her face, signaling disinterest, and we ended up at a restaurant, mainly for the air-conditioning, partly because the menu boasted English and three from our party of four couldn’t read Thai.

We started exploring the next day, our first real foray into the jungle.

Bangkok had orange busses, with people hanging out the doors. Hawkers stood on street corners, selling water, candied tamarind, faux designer purses, knock-off watches, maps, bracelets, silk in a rainbow of colors. Tuk-tuks, tiny brightly-painted taxis, cried offers as we wound through the crowded streets. Many people were wearing lemon-yellow polo shirts in celebration of the king’s sixtieth year on the throne.

I learned quickly the magic phrases how much is it?, too expensive, and how to count. Thus armed, I was able to smile my way in and out of transactions, learning to bargain. I zealously guarded my wallet, and occasionally dropped coins for the street performers.

And then, the culinary spread; Tom Yum, a soup that’s as sour as spicy, soft yellow mango and crunchy green mango with sugar and chili pepper, papaya salad, stewed fish. We craved Thai iced tea, sweetened Chinese brew topped with heavy cream, we devoured the perennial pad thai noodle dish, eaten with a fork and spoon, accompanied by a never-ending supply of jasmine rice. One of my personal favorites was the juvenile coconut, green and smooth – they’d cleave off the top and serve it with a straw. The liquid inside was clear and refreshing, the white meat falling like ice cream when touched with a spoon.

Bangkok overwhelmed my senses with color, texture, smell, taste, and sound, challenged my expectations and my stomach lining, but I did not leave unsatisfied. Like no other place, Bangkok tantalized the inner explorer, the part that yearns for the different, the new, the exotic.

One would expect nothing less, from the true urban jungle.

Further Information

Travel tips: Keep an eye on your wallet. Bangkok pickpockets are very good at what they do.