1995, March
I don’t recall the details of the plane trip to Bangkok. I doubt I slept, I may have read or watched something. I don’t know how we watched things in those days, there were no screens on the back of seats or devices to watch your own downloaded content. Perhaps someone got a 16mm film projector out and chucked on Jaws, or Flying High.
I don’t recall the details of getting to Khao San Road either, nor how I knew that Khao San Road was the place to go for backpackers like myself to find backpacker friendly accommodation. I think I’d just asked the taxi driver where backpackers go to stay, in the same way you may ask where flamingos like to congregate, and he said something in that Thai accent I never get tired of listening to. To be honest I probably didn’t understand what he said, I’d never heard of Khao San Road, I just trusted he’d take me where I needed to go, so I said, ‘that sounds good, take me there’.
Nowadays, I feel the taxi drivers might take you to some flash place where they’d get a big tip from the hotel, assuming anyone just rocks up to places these days and ask taxi drivers their opinion on where they should stay, and haven’t just booked every step of the way online already, which is often tempting, especially in new cities after long flights, though limiting in terms of having a real adventure, or getting bargains on last minute accommodation.
I arrived on Khao San Road at night, or in the early hours of the morning. It was after midnight I’m sure. The taxi driver dropped me off at the end of the street, and I made my way through a few night shift spruikers spruiking their hotels and hostels. I found a place for 40 baht a night (around $1.65 Australian) down an alley off the Main Street. The room had a balsa-strength door you could have kicked in without bruising a toe, or even pushed it in with the strength of two or three fingers. I left my camera in my backpack in the room, figuring no self respecting robber would bother robbing someone who paid 40 baht a night for a room.
I was soon to find that Thais have other ways of fleecing you besides nicking your camera.
Around 2-3 am, maybe, I went out exploring a bit. I suddenly felt like taking up smoking again after not smoking for almost a year. I bought a packet of Thai cigarettes off a guy manning a little stand with bits and pieces. The cigarettes were perhaps 25 or 30 baht. Maybe sitting in the smoking section on the plane coming from Australia brought on the desire for nicotine again. I had one and it was nice.
It was hot. Even in shorts and a t-shirt and in the early hours of the morning, it was hot. I was sweating. Some street vendors were still open with their owners sitting about in the cool air, by flaming woks, or knick-knacks and cigarettes, some smoking cigarettes, on plastic stools with sandals planted on the ground, some with alley kittens brushing past their legs, relaxed and wide awake. The smell of fish sauce and stir-fried vegetables hung in the air. The honking of car horns and the puttering of tuk-tuk engines echoed through the alleys. Little nooks and crannies were taken up by small bars, eateries, and entries to hotels and hostels, dimly lit, like a scene from Blade Runner, some open, some closed.
Bangkok was a 24 hour affair, a big city, the biggest I’d ever been in, an invigorating culture shock after the quiet year I’d spent planting trees and tending to goats on the Brock’s farm in Nutfield where we didn’t even have street lighting and the nearest neighbours were a few kilometres away. Actually Corinne and I had almost got lost one night when we went for a ride and couldn’t remember which road to take to get back to the Brock’s farm. Bev had put all the lights on in their house on the hill like a beacon on a hill which helped us make our way the last few kilometres.
After having my first brief look at Bangkok I went back to the room and slept for a couple of hours, barely a wink though with the excitement of the new city, the first time I’d been overseas on my own, a blank slate and adventure ahead, keeping my mind racing. I got up just before sunrise and headed out exploring the orange haze of the city. This time I brought my camera along, a spritely spring in my Scarpa covered feet.
I walked down the end of the street, past a group of waiting tuk-tuks, spruiking their wares. I think I’d cashed some traveller cheques at the airport, or somewhere so I had a few hundred baht to explore the town. I had no idea of where to go or what to see. I just walked around.
I found a little place with plastic tablecloths and plastic stools, to have some breakfast. I had an authentic Thai noodley thing. I’d picked up a map from the tourist stall on Khao San Road which I unfolded and studied as I ate my noodles. I saw the King’s Palace was just down the road. After my noodles I headed down that way.
I don’t know the exact moment when it happened. I’m sure it was somewhere near the King’s Palace, maybe just outside its walls. It’s all a blur now as the events to come were both distressing and embarrassing. Very cringe-worthy. Especially for me. But, at some point this very friendly Thai man appeared. He was well dressed and polite, and started a friendly chat. If you’ve read any warnings on scams from Thailand or South-east Asia in guidebooks that description alone should ring scamming alarm bells.
But back then I was a young, trusting man with brand new Italian walking shoes, but without one of those touristy ‘guidebooks’, who was having his first morning by himself overseas, in a big bustling Asian city, far from home. I was excited. Bangkok is an amazing city. I was open to new ideas, to approaches from strangers. This was a Buddhist country after all, and I am practically a Buddhist now myself I felt, having taken my Vipassana meditation course last year and keeping up regular meditation whilst on the farm in Nutfield. The Buddhist followed a few simple rules, one of which was not to take that which isn’t given to you. I now think they may have found a loophole when it came to just convincing people to hand over shit by their own volition.
Friendly Thai guy asked where I was from and what I did for a living and all those get-to-know-you small talk things that scammers do with a big broad smile.
Travellers note: first day’s in cities are often the time travellers are most fleeced. Like my wife and my first day in Havana, Cuba many years later where my wife was convinced to buy cigars and rum for around $100 USD, where maybe we should have paid $25 or $15. A trippy version of our Cuba trip is available here.
‘I’d like to see some authentic Thai stuff’ I said, or words to that effect. Of course ‘Friendly Man’ could help me out with that.
In a matter of moments we were heading away from the King’s palace. Crossing 8 lanes of traffic. Heading into Chinatown. We sat down at a restaurant. ‘You want something to eat, I pay for you’ he said with a broad grin. How nice I thought, what a gentleman. But I wasn’t hungry that soon after breakfast. I got a drink anyway, just to be polite. The nice man got to talking about how he could organise a good deal for a boat trip to look at Thai temples along the river.
‘I get you good deal on boat and temples, very cheap’, he said with nearly all his (fake) smiley teeth showing. I had barely taken a sip of my drink and before I was whisked to a wharf with a boat at the ready – as though they were waiting there for me.
2017
My daughter and I are taken to a place in Chinatown and they try and convince us to pay hundreds of dollars for a private boat. You can read about that here.
Back in 1995. I coughed up a little money, it wasn’t hundreds of dollars, pretty reasonable actually, maybe $15. We went down some canals and onto the main river. It was all very exciting. I even took a photo of my scammer in front of some riverside houses on stilts on the river. I think I ended up chopping him out of it years later.
I visited a beautiful temple on the river – which my daughter and I also visited years later – for maybe an hour as the man and the boat waited outside for me, and then went to a nice Thai restaurant across the river and the nice man paid for a nice lunch for me. It was all exciting and new, and amazing. Nothing untoward at this stage.
At some point over lunch, the nice man indicated he could get me a good deal on gemstones. It seemed to come out of nowhere.
‘I take you get good deal on gemstone, good quality, you sell them in London on Bond Street, double your price, easy money’.
Easy money I thought, or did I think, I don’t know. You’re probably guessing by now I was incredibly gullible and stupid, but hey I didn’t have much money and then this guy was letting me in on a deal where I could double my money! Wow, too good to be true. Though even with those thoughts part of me was still sceptical. But I was able to overcome the scepticism. I’d heard of Bond Street, it was on the monopoly board! And it seemed likely gems were cheaper in Thailand as everything else was. I mean I could get a room for 40 baht! Maybe it was true?
We made our way to the gem store. Immediately on walking in the door I was greeted by another smiling Thai guy in on the racket. Seemed like he’d just been there waiting for me. It was a well organised operation. He showed me photocopies of other tourists’ passports who’d bought gems and went to London to double their money. He showed me a range of different sapphires and indicated a few prices. They looked nice and real. I was getting into this idea, as risky as it sounded.
‘What your budget?’ he asked.
‘Well, I don’t know,’ I said, maybe $150′.
‘Oh no, you can’t buy $150’, he showed me some gems and clicked some numbers on a calculator and it was all in baht and had a number of zeroes, ‘for this you get 5 sapphires’.
‘I don’t have that much, that’s a lot’, I said.
‘No problem, you sell on Bond Street, trust me, easy money, good quality’.
‘Are you allowed to do this?’
‘Yes, yes, no problem, I take your passport and fill in details, you go get money, no problem. I send to London so no problem with customs.’ He whisked my passport off and got the appropriate paperwork filled out.
I must have had some trepidation, but in the end, I was a naive young backpacker, I lacked sleep, and I was quickly getting reeled in by the slick and persuasive pressure tactics which didn’t leave me much time to think. It wasn’t long until I was in the bank accompanied by original ‘nice’ (bastard) Thai man cashing almost all of my traveller’s cheques. I just remember bits and pieces.
Thinking about it now, it was not like me to be that reckless. But there I was with a bunch of cash in hand getting a supposed deal of a lifetime. I’d somehow lucked upon it, just as I had lucked on getting the job with the Brocks. The universe was providing for me again. I should just go with it. So we went back to the gem store and I handed over the money and the gem store guy said he was going to send the gems registered post to London general post office, post restante, and I even saw him put them in the envelope. Transaction over, I was quickly whisked out of the shop and the nice man dumped me on some corner near Chinatown and with less of a smile, as though dumping a kidnapping victim after their families had paid the ransom.
I came to my senses for a moment. I still had some questions I needed to ask the gem store salesperson. So somehow I found my way back to the gem store, even though they’d driven me around in a circle to try and disorientate me. When I walked through the front door. They looked like they’d seen a ghost. Obviously, in retrospect, they’d hoped they’d confused my sense of direction to the point where I would never find my way back.
They answered my questions, yes the gems would be there in a few days, no problem. Don’t worry. I looked at the shop, it was just like the jewellery stores in Australia. The man assured me the gems would arrive no later than next Thursday (or something like that) and that they did this all the time, no problem, and then I was quickly pushed out of the shop again. I was left with the promise of 5 sapphires being sent to me in London and just a couple of small note traveller’s cheques left. I looked at my receipt for the gems. Geez, I don’t know I’m sure I wasn’t drugged, but the lack of sleep was as bad as 4-5 joints in terms of affect on my judgement by this stage.
My nervousness rose, I now only had maybe as little as $150. Bangkok was cheap so it would be enough to get me to London to get my cash for my sapphires. So I waited, nervously. I sat at cafes each day on Khao San Road watching videos and eating beautiful vegetarian stir-fries. I walked through the markets and visited the local buddhist temple down the street to help feed the monks. I even went back to the King’s Palace and went inside. I was stressed by my lack of finances but even with that small amount I was still able to comfortably pay for an hour-long massage every day for 20-30 baht. So while in Bangkok, I could still survive. I was fine. For now.
I did need my sapphires though so I decided to bring my flight forward a few days so I could get them as soon as they arrived in London. Then I could go to Bond Street and double my money, or at least get some of my money back.
I think I was in Bangkok another three or four nights. I was originally going to stop off in Kathmandu on the way to London but there was no time, nor money, for that now, so I arranged to fly straight to London.
In the few days I was still in Bangkok I had another smiley Thai man approach me. I must have looked like a ripe fruit ready for the plucking and screwing over or something. He walked around with me a bit, chatting and asking a few questions. He showed me a nice shopping centre not far from Khao San Road where you could get cheap fake rolexes and other false designers. In casual conversation he brought up the idea of going to a gem store. I said I’d already been and got some so I had no money left. While I had my back turned for a moment he disappeared in the crowd. I was more worried now.
Many years later my beautiful wife and I took a trip to Heron Island, an amazing little island on the Great Barrier Reef in Queensland, Australia, where turtles nest. It was still turtle nesting season. The little baby turtles hatched under the sand every afternoon and evening and made their way to the ocean in their hundreds. We were lucky enough to see them while we were there.
Most of the little baby turtles, with their cute little flippers and little shells, don’t make it to adulthood as between their beach nesting places and the ocean they’ll spend the years growing to adulthood in they have to run the gauntlet of seagulls picking them off one by one. And even when they make it to the water’s edge sharks and rays wait to snack on more of them.
Looking back I was one of those baby turtles. And the sharks had no problem gobbling me up.
The consequences of my innocence and poor judgement was soon to become apparent, as I boarded the plane for London.
And yes, the pants are super que fashion!