VacAsian Day Sixteen (Sunday, 18 May, Bangkok)

Today began with a spectacular breakfast buffet at the hotel (suffice it to say, after the chauffered car, VIP check-in and fireworks last night (see VacAsian Day Fifteen), we didn’t expect stale bread and water) as we prepared to spend the day at the Chatuchak Weekend Market. Can you guess which half of HueBin was more excited than the other? (See VacAsian Day Seven.)

Having only our Beijing Silk Road Market foray as a reference, we were not prepared for the blissfully disorienting shopping experience that is Thai market shopping. Stall after stall with every saleable item (not to mention some that probably shouldn’t be sold) known to humankind was available for the right price at Chatuchak. What could possibly be wrong with that, the shopping enthusiasts (and/or possession obsessed) among you may ask?

The answer: no organization.

Whereas the Silk Road Market was organized by floors, which generally grouped related items for ease of comparison and purchase, Chatuchak hinted at organization, but offered only a pleasingly distracting menagerie of hungry vendors as eager to peddle their wares as the shoppers were to find bargains. Imagine a t-shirt vendor next to a food vendor next to a silk vendor next to an electronics vendor next to an exotic bird vendor next to a shoe vendor next to a lingerie vendor next to a housewares vendor. Then imagine that if you wanted to get the best deal from any of them, you’d have to push your way through the crowds, tight passageways, and rain at this expansive bazaar in hopes of accidently encountering another vendor offering the same merchandise, only to hope you might be able to find the first vendor if the next vendor’s price wasn’t right. Of course, as Murphy’s Law of Market Shopping would have it, when you’re looking for a specific item, there is not a vendor in sight who has it for sale, yet you can’t swing a smoking incense decanter without hitting a vendor with every variety of every useless bauble you’re NOT looking for. Such is the joy of the Thai bazaar.

We were but three hours in to the Chatuchak consumer chaos, with bag after bag of bounty to show for it, when Robin uttered the words Huey thought he would NEVER hear:

I’m done with shopping.

“I’d rather play video games than read,” perhaps. “I have ENOUGH shoes,” maybe. On her WORST day possibly “No, thank you. I don’t want any CAKE.” But never did Huey expect THESE words to cross Robin’s lips. Quickly checking the air temperature and skating conditions in “H-E-Double Hockey Sticks” and confirming that Robin was, in fact, conscious and not delusional, Huey was confronted with an unsettling reality.

He was NOT finished shopping.

Perhaps it was the stifling humidity slowly soaking through his dura matter or maybe it was just those gosh darn cute Buddha marionettes, but Huey was ENJOYING unfettered, mindless, full contact, blatant consumerism at its best (worst?)… and he wanted more. But, as with his affinity for Blackjack (and “Judge” reality shows), Huey knows when to say when.

We taxied back to the hotel, where we took much needed showers. (We forgot to mention how utterly dusty and gritty bazaar shopping can be.) We had lunch at Café Mozu, where we had our first night’s dinner and breakfast this morning, then we went to the shopping center in State Tower for massages at Spa Royal Botanic (we presume no relation to Spa Botanica (see VacAsian Day Fourteen)). Robin had a ONE HOUR foot massage, followed by a ONE HOUR manicure, which included a head and shoulder massage; Huey had a ONE HOUR traditional Thai massage and a ONE HOUR foot massage, with a head and shoulder massage thrown in for good measure. The cost of all this corporeal manipulation? Less than US $50 for both of us.

A quick note about traditional Chinese v. traditional Thai massage. The former is akin to deep tissue Western massage with the addition of very intense acupressure. The pressure is extreme, even painful at times, but it leaves one feeling relaxed, rejuvenated, and with a clear head. Thai massage, by contrast, is more like Greco-Roman wrestling where only one competitor knows the rules. It is performed on a platform or low table, rather than a massage table, and the therapist (opponent?) is, at times, on the platform with you, pulling your arms, legs, torso, head, or neck this way or that and running you through various sleeper, half-, and full-Nelson holds. It leaves one feeling relaxed, but confused and a bit violated. In the end, though, the Thai sparring match is markedly cheaper than its Chinese counterpart.

From the spa, we taxied to Embassy Tailor for our first fittings. Huey was ecstatic with the fit of his new togs, and with some minor adjustments, Robin, too, was pleased with her custom gear. (We even added more to Robin’s order.) The tailor’s driver returned us to the hotel, and we packed it in for the night.

Final score: Team Spa Royal Botanic 1, Team HueBin 0.