The Big Mango.
- BK
- Mar 20, 2021
- 6 min read
One day I woke up in a hazy smokey city in Thailand’s capital; Bangkok. The locals call it Krung Thep, which means the City of Angels. The metropolitan city always offers something spontaneously exciting to escape to for nine months of the year after the monsoon season sweeps over and heads towards Singapore and Malaysia. The ex-pats and travellers have a perfect playground to experience a blend of true Thai culture, nightlife, a taste of traditional street food, and affordable shopping heaven. After two months of living in Bangkok, I was completely convinced that Krung Thep was truly one of the best places in the world to visit. A place to explore the unpredictable chaos of fun. Regardless of the heavy traffic, hustle and bustle, and the petty theft, I felt alive and contented. And there were times I felt so helpless unable to give back to the people who struggled to survive in The Big Mango.
Backpackers who came to Bangkok for two or three days were not enough for them to appreciate what the city had to show them. The city is different but also similar to Paris, São Paulo, and New York. A stranger who arrives at a new major city must allow time to adjust and find their groove in a strange place before they can feel something special about the city. Most travellers who came to Bangkok were in transit and solely chasing the Thai coastal life to dig their feet into the sandy beaches of paradise; three days in Bangkok defines all argument. That was the problem I had with other backpackers and walked away from their negativity. Every major city in the world has its pros and cons, regardless.
My daily routine was to be up, ready and fresh for a new unforeseeable day; only the morning was in routine; take up a chair at my local café, check my emails on the Mac and worked on some new writing material for my site. As I gently placed my fingers on the keyboard and typed in the humid air, I glanced up from time to time and observed the motorbikes entwine their way along busy streets, passing between the cars and pedestrians without care and darting through the alleyways. The construction workers were dressed in faded jeans with their hard hats under their arms as they walked passed the café and prepared themselves for a long dirty physical day. There was no such thing as an eight-hour shift in their world; Thai people work long hours for low wages. In the afternoon, the sky was cloured sublimely in pink, blue and orange as the city was ready for the nightlife playtime. Sometimes the first drink would be gathered with my Thai friends who worked at the hostel on the legendary Khao San Road and they introduced me to new people before we wandered into the warm and sticky humid night.
The famous four hundred meter strip of Khao San Road is full of bars, a variety of big-name clubs and is an easy place to meet new people. It is the hub where backpackers and tourists are immediately drawn to after they check into their hotels and get ready to explore the capital's vibrant nightlife. It is congested and I remind myself that patience is the key as I moved slowly along the road. There is no rush because the party doesn't end until four in the morning. I walked into the convenience store and grabbed a beer before merging with the heavy crowd of voices snd faces in a great commotion until a bar catches my eye. Khao San Road has everything a man needs; cheap food, cheap drinks, laughing gases, great music and women to end the night with.
Eventually, I moved away from the tourist trap after two weeks and with the help of a friend from Australia, I rented a small apartment. Thailand was my place to find appreciation in the simple things in life, and more so to write new travel stories and not having to worry about money situations after I had saved my cheddar over a year in a dead-end picking and packing warehouse job. A foreigner will inevitably come to the conclusion that The Big Mango is more affordable than, The Harbour City. Sydney.
Although I found myself running away from western civilization, I yearned for some western fast food, especially after drinking. But there were disturbing moments with the large cowboy meal and an extra steakhouse burger. I sat beside the window in the restaurant and destroyed my digestive system with the grease of the corporate chain. A young girl with a large dirty, stained and ripped grey t-shirt, blue shorts and flip flops that were double the size of her feet would tap on the window and put her hands in front of her face as if she began to pray and then pointed towards her mouth. Clearly, she was hungry and begged for food. She looked no more than six years old. I kept my head down and tried to ignore her. She tapped the window again and I waved my hand to shoo her off but she would not budge and gave me a sad face. She stopped tapping the window and just watched me eat my food as I looked away with shame.
After my feast, my heart gave in and walked up to the counter and ordered two cheeseburgers with a bottle of water. I found her standing by the door with the sad puppy dog eyes as I walked out. I handed her the brown paper bag as her eyes lit up of appreciation and said "Khob Khun" (Thank you) before she snatched the paper bag from my hand and disappeared into an alleyway. From that day on, I saw the young girl at least once a week and bought her two cheeseburgers with a bottle of water every time she appeared at the window.
I had come to the final days of my long séjour in Bangkok and it was time for the next journey; Vietnam. I had mixed emotions of joy and sadness. Spending the last moments strolling the streets of the city, drunk and sober, revisiting places where I have been and discovering places I had not. I found myself lost at times and challenged myself to navigate to new adventures and find my way out of the maze. I thought of the little girl and went to the usual place where I would find her and she was still there. "Two cheeseburgers thanks." Before I handed her the bag, I said to her in a soft voice, "Laa-gon-krap" (goodbye). She knew the meaning behind the words as it was the first time pronouncing them. She stared at me for a moment and walked away slowly, it was the first time she did not run away and took a different path to wherever she needed to be.
It was not long until I found her again that very same night. She was sitting on the curb with her pregnant mother and grandmother. I walked passed them nervously, without looking at them, until I felt four hard taps my shoulder and turned around to find her mother standing in front of me, eyes up close, she was at least five months large, with her young daughter standing beside her, "Young man, take my daughter with you", she said to me in perfect English with a tone of sadness and desperation. Speechless and confused I stood there as my blood began to stir. I looked at the old lady on the milk crate and turned back to face the mother who had pushed the little young girl towards me. I stepped back, "No-no-no. Stop! "I said in a panic and pushed the girl softly back to her mother. "Me no money, no home, I have baby", she rubbed her stomach, "You good man, feed little one." I didn't know if the little girl understood what we were saying but she knew what was happening, she tied to grab my hand as if the child needed to be held before crossing the road. "No. I can not take. Sorry. I must go! " I said to them firmly and quickly, waving my both hands in the air as I walked quickly backwards. "Take, take, please take!", I heard mother raising her voice loudly in a cry of desperation as I turned and walked rapidly out of the street. Angry and depressed at the same time, I shred a tear knowing there was absolutely nothing that I could have done for them. I was just a traveler who was trying to discover an adventurous path in life.
Sometimes, I forget how lucky I have been and take it all for granted, to have explored the world, lived in different countries, and not having to struggle as hard as those less fortunate. I have never forgotten about the little girl to this day...