Where You Going?

We have been spoiled with a countless number of delights on this trip. Honestly, every day feels like Christmas. This will undoubtedly cause problems when we return to whatever normalcy will look like, however, that’s a problem for another day. One of my personal highlights so far has been playing detective and observing the world through my girls' eyes. Who or what grabs their attention? What burning questions do they unleash upon the universe? And, most importantly, what culinary delights send them into a frenzy?

Our expedition into Chinatown - one of the world’s largest - revealed a goldmine of insights when we arrived in Bangkok. We stood in awe as a queue of keen customers eagerly traded their hard-earned cash for some of the world's most exotic delights. Scorpions, beetles, and ants, oh my! All for the bargain price of 50 Thai baht (that's a steal at $2 Canadian). Amidst the chaos, one brave farang (that's foreigner in Thai) grinned like a Cheshire cat, regaling anyone who'd listen with tales of how each morsel danced on his palate. I couldn't resist asking him the burning question: "Tastes like chicken, right?" His response? "It’s more like a salsa dance party in my mouth."

The sheer influx of farang flooding into Thailand each year is mind-boggling. Last year, Thailand rolled out the welcome mat for a staggering 40 million tourists. That's like every single Canadian declaring, "Enough is enough, let's get the heck out of here and jet off to Thailand!" Talk about a northern invasion…. With tourism accounting for 15% of the country's GDP, Thailand sure knows how to dance to the tourist tune. In Bangkok, it's a constant barrage of requests and inquiries wherever you turn. Initially amusing, but in scorching 40-degree heat, it's like being trapped in a comedy sketch where the punchline is always "no, I don't want a pet elephant named Bob." or “no, I don't want a lifetime supply of coconut bras” and my all time favourite “no, I don't want a selfie stick that doubles as a back scratcher.” The minute you step out of your hotel, it's a chorus of "where you going?" It's like they've all collectively decided to audition for the role of your personal tour guide. And no matter what answer you give, it's never the right one. So you just shrug, smile, and hope they don't follow you for too long. 

Thailand's malls are like shopping wonderlands, making even the most frugal person turn into a shopohoilc. We stumbled upon a mega-mall which was a much needed respite from the heat. Forget about scoring deals - the real pièce de résistance was the awe inspiring food market on the ground floor serving up curries in every delectable smell and hue imaginable, alongside the girls' latest obsession, Khao soi (pronounced cow soy). It's a spicy noodle soup with a broth so divine it's like a hug in a bowl. It’s then topped with noodles so crispy they could double as musical instruments, and, of course, the holy grail: the chicken leg. The battle royale for the chicken leg has caused at times some differences of opinion as to who gets first dibs between Ayana and I to the point of where poor Janice has had to step in as referee and call for a much needed timeout. Either way the idea of eating curry while browsing for new underwear adds a whole new dimension to retail therapy. 

When you think of Europe, you conjure up images of majestic ancient churches, from Notre Dame in Paris to St. Peter’s Basilica in Vatican City. Thailand echoes this spiritual grandeur with Buddhism, which holds court in every nook and cranny of society. With a whopping 40,000 temples dotting the landscape, it's like a divine treasure hunt, and guess who's leading the expedition? Yep, yours truly. The girls are convinced we've checked every single one, and honestly, it's starting to feel like it. On a guided tour through Bangkok, we delved into the heart of Thai spirituality and learned that every Thai male gets a gentle nudge towards monkhood at some point. Some embrace it with serenity, while others treat it like a spiritual buffet—sampling it and embedding it into their lifestyle.

Our guide, Pi (pronounced Pee, cue the giggles from the girls), shared his monkhood final exam, where he had to prove he could survive in the real world again. His mentor threw him some curveball questions, like, "When your buddies are steaming mad, what's the plan?" Pi's sage response? "Meditate and count to 20." Then came the second question: "What if your manager is fuming at you for making a mistake on a major project?" Pi: "Meditate, deep breaths, count to 40." Finally, the zinger: "Your better half is seeing red—what now?" And there I was, chiming in with my infinite wisdom: "Keep meditating and counting until the problem dissolves like magic.” It was close enough to the correct response that I couldn't help but tease him that he could've saved six months of monk training by just chilling with me.

Thailand has been a sizzling sauna of sweat. I'm a sweat machine on a good day, but when the thermostat skyrockets to a balmy 40°C+, it's like my pores are hosting a waterfall competition. My baseball hat isn't a fashion statement; it's a desperate attempt to prevent my face from staging its own aquatic show. Every ten minutes, I pause to wring out my shirt, guzzle enough water to rival a camel, and soldier on. The girls are horrified by my impromptu "hydration breaks," but I reassure them it's just my body's way of saying, "it’s getting hot in here” - with apologies to Nelly fans. I blend right in with the other farangs, each of us shedding more liquid than a broken water main. Who needs a rain gauge when you can measure the season by the sidewalk sweat streams? And let's be real; if there were a wet T-shirt contest, I'd be crowned the undisputed champion, no questions.

At last count, approximately 17 million brave souls call Bangkok home, turning the daily commute into a full-blown Olympic event. Whether you opt for the pedestrian shuffle, brave the subway, hop on a crotch rocket for kicks, summon a Grab ride (think Uber, but with a spicy Thai twist), or embark on a heart-pounding tuk-tuk adventure, getting around here is a wild ride. Tuk-tuks are a three-wheeled wonder of open-air excitement that work like magic on my girls. Mention a Grab ride, and you'll get yawns from my girls, but the mere mention of a tuk-tuk has them all aboard faster than you can say "traffic jam." Kasia, our resident daredevil, has snagged the coveted seat next to the driver, granting her a front-row view of the chaos. The only downside? The scorching temperatures, with daytime highs soaring to a blistering 42°C and nighttime lows a "refreshing" 36°C. It's like cruising through a hair dryer set on max heat.

With all these modes of transport, you'd expect chaos, right? Wrong! Bangkok's traffic somehow flows with a zen-like tranquility, thanks to the unwritten rule of no honking—a testament to the city's Buddhist-inspired patience. Amidst the chaos, there's always that one farang absent-mindedly walking aimlessly through the madness trying to capture it all on camera. The locals remain unfazed, navigating around them with the grace of seasoned pros. As for me, well, I might have let a few choice words slip in the heat of the moment, earning a well-deserved stink eye from Janice and a gentle reminder from the girls that sometimes, silence is golden.

The night markets have been the shining stars of our Thai adventure so far. Between the street performers busting out moves that would make Beyoncé blush, the quirky arts and crafts (some of which could rival your grandma's tacky knick-knack collection), and the food stalls serving up a smorgasbord of delights, it's been a whirlwind of fun. We've laid eyes on everything from wriggling larvae to sleek black scorpions, which apparently pass as local delicacies. But the grand prize for the most eyebrow-raising dish goes to... drumroll... crocodile tongue! Yep, you heard that right. Apparently, it's a protein powerhouse with all the essential amino acids you could ask for. But hey, so is your run-of-the-mill beef, chicken, fish, and eggs. Still, there was a queue longer than Santa's naughty list for both items, though the Achampong family steered clear of that culinary adventure. Ayana, bless her heart, had a moment of concern for the barbecue duck hanging in one stall. "What animal is that?" she asked, her eyes wide with worry. I reassured her, "It's a duck." To which she replied, "Well, it looks unhappy." "Probably because it's, you know, dead,"

As we wrap up our time in Bangkok, the girls have officially shed their "farang" status and proudly embraced their newfound honorary Thai citizenship, complete with a fierce loyalty to local cuisine and a miraculous disappearance of picky eating habits. Gone are the days of restaurant dining; now it's all about the market stall magic, where according to Kasia, the food tastes like heaven compared to those stuffy old eateries. Perhaps our wise guide, Pi, had a point when he reminded us that we arrived as guests but are departing Bangkok as honorary family members. Thank you, Bangkok, for transforming us from farang to family, one chicken leg at a time.