So after over 24 hours of sleepless, sardine-style travelling (was more than a little envious of the Premier Class passengers during this, with their reclining lounge chairs, foot rests, and all the mod cons) have touched down in the Land of Smiles. A short, prepaid transfer, courtesy of some very nice - not to mention smiley - Thais, soon saw me in the vast lobby of something that looked more palatial than hotel-like, and at twenty-odd quid a night, my huge, airconned suite with its minibar stocked full of every alcoholic beverage you could ask for (except cider, but let's be serious, I'm not in Somerset anymore) it's all feeling a bit VIPish.
Arrived at the decidedly un-Asian sounding Rembrandt at 10am local time, wayworn and jetlagged to hell but determined to go out and soak up (in equal measure) the culture and sunshine of Thailand. Abruptly passed out from exhaustion.
Woke up shivering 5 hours later (had left the air con on full blast; British aren't used to such creature comforts) but was sweating almost the moment the sliding doors disgorged me into sultry Bangkok urbanism. Think it was roughly ten steps from the lobby car park before I was hailed by a dodgy-looking taxi driver (a pre-arrival note in my hotel room had forewarned me about "illegal" cabbies loitering outside). Not wanting to appear rude - at the same time not wanting to be carted off to some ostensibly genuine (though no doubt ignorant-tourist preying) establishment and press-ganged into buying fake jewellery - I muttered an apology and did a little walking gesture with my index and middle finger. British, I have come to believe, in lieu of their incomprehension of any language other than English, are masters of gesticulation. Would like to add, however, that yours truly has diligently tried to learn the Thai language, from its plethora of symbols to its Westerner-befuddling system of tones, for the past three months, though it has since come to light that learning such a language and being comprehended by it by the native speaker are markedly different. Hopefully this will improve in time.
First expedition into the unknown was down one of the main arteries from which the energetic heart of Bangkok beats unceasingly; Sukhumvit Road. Huge bars, shopping malls that climb to ten stories, clamour, cacophony, jams of hundreds of cars and tuk-tuks all being swerved in and out of by mopeds, which in turn are all being dodged and darted past by slaloming pedestrians. Chaos it seemed to me, yet somehow still seemed to flow in a kind of harmonious craziness.
Ventured down Sukhumvit warily, trying not to get run over, my untanned, white skin a glaring signpost to the multitude of peddlers that this was virgin territory for me.
Resisted temptation and soon found refuge in a western-sounding bar (name forgotten, but it ended in "pub"). Lots of pool tables (American unfortunately; not English) and lots of aging - and from the look/sound of them, alcoholic - American ex-pats; a pattern that would repeat itself in the next two joints before I called it a night. Unsurprisingly, have discovered that Thai bar girls are the best female pool players on the planet; had to draw on all my years of pool playing to beat them, and even then it was pretty close. Also met a very insightful Aussie tourist who helped me to identify legit cabbies from dodgy ones, and places where you need to haggle your arse off to get a fair price.
All told, my first sally into the streets of Bangkok wasn't as nerve wracking as first envisioned. The effluence was pretty pungent, the traffic manic, the attempts to lighten your wallet perpetual (this last has already elicited an involuntary pocket slap every fifty metres to make sure it's still there - somehow I've already lost your money belt, Mother) but it was eyeopening, adventurous, and, without doubt, absolutely amazing.
But couldn't end this first entry without getting sentimental about what happened before it. All the well wishes have been truly heart warming (even if the odd one was so full-on that it implied I'd gone off to join the heavenly choir instead of moving to a different neck of the woods) and I thank all my friends and family in England for such an epic send off.
Now . . . wait! . . . where's my wallet!?