This Khmer New Year was taken over by my friends and
teachers and Koh Rong Samloem, so, here's a chance for mom and dad to make it
up; Thailand was a very niiice choice, what a lucky bastard, I am.
Pratunam, Bangkok, an
area filled with khmer-ity, I mean you could hear people speaking Khmer everywhere
around there, Sok Sabay!
With every corner of every street waiting to entertain Mr.
Timmy (my one and only tummy of all time), it had already sensed the options
available and started to juggle and rumble and mumble the Pharrell William
track, HAPPY; all hail the food vendors,
all hail Pratunam, all hail Bangkok, the Bangkok Food Carnival has begun.
I have to say "NO!" if you folks thought that it's a holiday where
I could literally browse around anywhere I want, eat any kinds of foods. Dad
got called up for a health check-up; drinks too much, no exercise, very great
business for the hospital, so is the carnival the side effect.
Time in pocket after the check-ups wasn’t going to get me the eagles eye view of Pratunam; this place is humongous, sorry
folks, I'll do it proper next time; surely
gotta have to keep this one sweet yet short.
Bus ride for 12 hours, 12 friiikiiin hours, it killed the
Welcome-to-Thailand vibe, gonna cry for a flight next time; reading the
never-looking-to-finish Mockingbird,
literally ate the whole 7-Elevens every time we stopped by one; cool pop,
chicken nuggets, sausages, sticky rice, everything they had had me; I then did
release several Deadly Toxic Flatulence Air Bomb, which means "fart"
according to Skyrex from Yahoo Answers, bravooo...! Sleeping wasn't illegal for
me on holiday, but otherwise very illegal during workdays, so I slept and slept
until I heard “Swadi Khaap”, and we checked in.
Papdi Chaat, an Indian
F1 aka fast food, with curd as the gravy with tacos alike wafers crunched all
over, chopped cucumber and tomato fighting for the dominant taste against the
sourness of the curd, definitely skyrocketed my appetite, chopped or mashed potatoes
fill the gaps between the wafers with chick peas, always served sprayed with chili
powder and tamarind pickle paste; dad got this one right.
Masala Papad, very
thin, crispy, salted, peppered, moon shaped and moon-surface like, golden brown
colored Indian starter, definitely a solid contender for my list of all-time favorites,
sweet and sour, the best of the two souls collide, bringing in the
I'd-like-one-more-plate feeling, the main course would have to wait for now.
Chilli Chicken, an old
timer with a classic look and taste, it has since been listed in my all-time favorites
rite after the arrival of my Indian teacher, with spices that stays hot-damn on
the tongue making it reach out for some air every time I welcome one of the
pieces and so the eruption begins and the fight between the spices and the
toungue while my tummy awaits with his heart wide open.
Last but not the least,
please welcome, the heavyweight champion, Gulaaaaaaaab Jaaaaaamun; the golf- ball
sized but sometimes smaller, dark red, melts with sweetest syrup filled in as
lava which leaks out when bitten as happily as I get whenever I see them, a
definite reason to finish the main course as soon as possible.
Folks, different but together, it is all in here, I get to
see and meet and greet Muslim uncles and aunts for the first time, I mean we
have many of them there in Pratunam and was very excited to get to know them. Running
all forms of business there including my soft spot, the banana pancake on
wheels; Pratunam seems to be all set for my this trip.
Creativity sure creates
crazy stuffs, foods inclusive.
Namaste, they greeted
and we are seated at an Indian restaurant, dad kicked off and randomly ordered
some incredibly AMZEBALL items from the menu that smelled like Indian spices. Just
to make sure dad looks good, I called India (not literally), I mean my dearest
teacher, who is an Indian, and he Wikipedia-ed me about what we were just about
to experience – Mela, Indian word for a color-full carnival.
Dads wish list from
the IndianMenu:
Biryani, to a Khmer, it could only be just another Baycha.
The only differences would be that Biryani comes with a lot
more variety of ingredients such as nutmeg, mace, pepper, cloves, cardamom,
cinnamon, bay leaves, coriander, mint leaves, ginger, saffron, onions and
garlic (I wiki-ed, there was no way I would have dissected the dish and taken
notes.). It is usually cooked in butter and a typical Indian restaurant would
use home- made clarified butter. The smell is addictive as the color is. It
comes in dark mean yellow color with spices lurking you to test how much heat your
taste buds could take. The main ingredient that sparkles the spices is the meat
which in most cases, are either chicken or mutton (the lamb).
Biryani, to a Khmer, it could/should not be just another
Baycha.
Namaste!
All spiced up, we checked our to-do-list and dads check-up
was up.
So, dad raised his hand and a taxi drove in. I heard from my
bad friend, google that the taxis here often turn their
if-you-see-a-cambodian-please-do-not-turn-on-the-meter-and-just-ask-for-any-price-you-like
mode every time they see one; dad’s “Swadi Khaap” exposed us big time.
With some luck, we reached the Ramkhamhaeng Hospital, I
would like to pay tribute to the one who named it, should have abbreviated the
name into RKHH or something like that, I mean I just managed to learnt to
pronounce my Indian teacher’s family name. Hongyy sounds so kool, rite!
Mom and Dad talked their way in for an appointment for
tomoro just like Jimmy Fallon and Ellen Degenerous; my little brother, Bob and
I, in the meantime sneaked into the mart at the hospital and robbed the food
bar. I went for kimbab with a cold pop and my bob went for a hot dog with lemon
juice. And dad wanted to call it a day with a fine dining at a place called, The Fuji.
The ever elegant, Shoyu Ramen!
Shall we or shall not have supper? I guess we shall. It's
been a long way getting down there but the beloved Japs were waiting to make up
for it with a table well set for us. Nothing from them looks harmful but full
of love and care and joy and happiness; from the dried to deep-fried to the
fried to the boiled to the steamed to the roasted to the grilled to the smoked
to the last but not the least, the signature, the RAWs, OMFG! Oh My Foodie God,
lets tabemasu!
A toothsome dish, it
is. It is definitely worth staring at the bowl of Ramen and asking how it does what it does. The collision of finely
chopped garlic and ginger that I felt while slurping in everything, the
undeniable taste of simplicity at its best, perfect way to start a Konbanwa (Good Evening in Japanese) and I thought I heard the chefs shout out, “Tanoshimimasu!” (Enjoy in Japanese).
The Fuji Sashimi Bento Set arrives next. It literally takes
up quite a space on the table. A
thoughtfully designed lunchbox, it is, made especially for the foodies and the foodiest,
God bless them Japs who came up with this divine set. I wish if I could go to
my school with this set and shout out, “I am 14 and my lunchbox has California
Rolls, Takoyaki & Tamagoyaki along
with Fried Salmon and tuna and the Deep-fryers: crab sticks, sausages and chicken
breasts.”
Note: For this menu, if you guys want to know in details, please
wiki. I was well done and honestly just attacked all of it without
Masterchefing it like Gordon.
I slowed myself down after the Bento and looked around while
trying to unplug the food that got stuck in my mouth among my teeth and the
jaws with my tongue.
My digestive system works either just fine or more than it
should be, I saw Fresh Sashimi taxing and I found myself putting on my seatbelt,
all set to take off again.
This is the big boss, Respect! It came in on its transporter, the wooden ship,
tagging along are not only the Tuna and the Salmon but the Octopus and the Scallops
too. This dish is as colorful as always as the Rio Carnival. And Crab Sticks
are deliberately scattered just like the crew members at the Carnival for one
of the same reasons, to take care of the kids. If there were anything missing, them would be
the fireworks and the drums and the trumpets.
To me, how to eat is/should be as important as what to eat.
Step 1. Learn how to use chopsticks; the Japs will get
pissed off if they see you with a folk
Step 2. Ask for the Wasabi, a must and other sauces as you
wish
Step 4. Dip every bite in them sauce and Wasabi the way you
put your feet in a cold swimming pool on a hot sunny day
Step 5. Please chew proper and if possible, smile as you
chew as this could not be a bad day in anyways
Warning: Wasabi, looks peaceful with its green color and
form, traditionally grated using a shark-skin grater (how cool is that!), is as
aggressive as a hot mustard. Respect!
Happy Salmon Day, indeed!
Almost every dish had it, there came next, the Steak Version
of Salmon. To many, it is a dish for the rich plates. To me, it is something
that holds the best of the strings of my childhood memories. Otherwise, I don’t
see it with an expensive price tag; I would always see from the fishermen’s
side and tag it with life itself. Gramps used to buy me some and cook for me
and those days would always end up filling me up with all the love and care
that I needed.
Miso Soup arrived thick and strong with his pal, Dashi. Tofu
and Wakame came tagged along, Tofu, as usual, spreading its scent while Wakame
stayed quiet and sweet. I, as usual, showed my impatient-ness and attacked the Donburi,
too soon too desperate only to end up gasping for air as Dashi literally burnt
my taste buds, I had to call for SOS, gulped water as hurriedly as if I had
found the oasis after days in the desert. So much for faking a tea specialist!
It was around 08:30 pm when we
arrived at Fuji and there were crowds lined up then and there were crowds lined
up when we left as if an iPhone was going to be launched. This place is another
proof that customers come where quality is, not that the quality comes where
the customers are. There aint no class division at this place and everyone with
a heart is served as well as anyone else. Fuji rocks, definitely a place to be
deja-vu-ed!
Good Night!
Good Morning!
Headed for second phase of Checkup for dad since he took the
full-body-health-check-up option, and what we did were same as usual as well, I
went for Kimbab and cold pop, Bob went for hotdog and lemon juice, again, we
call this Calori-fied Drugs, pretty addictive I guess.
Good Night!
Good Morning!
Needed to digest all the food that I have gulped in so far;
headed to DreamWorld!
It is an amusement park in Bangkok that everyone in Bangkok and
everyone who has been to Bangkok are aware of, and so it has all the rides one
could expect at an internationally acceptable amusement park.
However, the only feature that it had that day that no other
amusement park in the world would have had that made me understand the value of
one of those moments that make us realize how priceless our families are; to put my arm around dad’s shoulders and walk
along and talk as informally as we could like a friend.
We taxi-ed out of the hospital, google-translated myself and
managed to pass on to the driver, the coordinates of a Cantonese restaurant at
the Chinatown that a fren of my dad’s suggested.
The way in to the Chinatown was as crowded as I expected,
people in lines waiting to grab seats and eats, both Farangs and locals
(including other Asians). Noisy, smoky, humid, colorful, bright, crowded,
festive kind of environment it had.
By the feel and the fragrance of the entrance, I was in no
ways, not excited. And, dad seemed more so and went ahead with the menu and
ordered and we ended up eating a Half-Cantonese-Half-Thai meal. It wasn’t that
bad and it wasn’t that good either, I aint eating that again, dad.
On the contrary to how I felt on the way in, after the meal
we had, I could imagine a poor chicken hit by a bicycle and why so it was
crowded.
Taxi-ed back to the hotel, the driver wanted to show off and
so we took the highway and so we got stuck in a great traffic and it was ten at
night and so my brother and I made a wish for flying pigs to come pick us out
of it.
Her Majesty demanded that she should have me get some water
from the fountains of the 7Eleven and that should call the night. And, so I got
her Majesty the water and was kind enough to get some Kimbab for the guard, Mr.
Timmy, as he stays up the whole night.
I slept on the floor, Bangkok was overcrowded as always. That
brought me back to reality, her Majesty became my mom and the floor became the
bed. The day had me all and the pillow
had me all too, I drooled all over it. Mom joked, “It rained pretty hard last
nite, poor pillow!”.
Good Morning!
All came back to senses late; Dad, to my surprise, let the
Sun win for once.
We woke up to the classic Thai breakfast with the star, Thai
noodles in thick broth, deep-flavored hand-made noodles.
I typed, “We need to get a bus to the Aquarium.” in the
google translator.
Bob has been nagging his best for it and so he shall get it
and so we spent the most of the daytime at the aquarium. I have been to few of
the best of the aquariums the South East Asia holds and so, this aquarium didn’t
excite me as it did to Bob. I would rate it 5 out of 10 plus 2 for seeing Bob
that excited was worth standing by and keeping up with him.
The following evening was going to make my trip, only God
knew.
Good Evening!
The Banana Pancake Guy (BPG) and (H) hongyy's conversation:
The moment when he caught me staring at his pancake.
BPG: hey hey hey... Shupa Di-li-shoes (super delicious)
pancake, 40 baht, 40 baht...
H: hellooo, can you please gimme three banana pancakes?..
(*whispering to myself, one for mom, two for me), okayokay, gimme three please.
BPG: okokok, three? okokok, pi-lise weight (please wait)...
H: *smiles like an idiot, probably was too excited to see
Mr. Pancake again, soooo emotional, heheh.
BPG: *ignored me and CONCENTRATION MODE ACTIVATED
H: *waiting eagerly like a dog with its tail swinging 360
degrees, staring at its food being
cooked right in front of him
BPG: ohh... no more banana, wait here ok? I go to 7Eleven
and buy, ok?
H: no noo nooo neeeed, just get me what you have left,
hehehe.
BPG: sorry ahh Sir! I'll add one extra piece of dough to the
pancake to make it fair, 40 baht sir, I dun want take much money from tourist.
H: *thinking real hard, this guy is actually very niiice,
kool kool; alright ….alright, that's khooo (cool in british accent).
He took around 3-4 minutes flapping and whirling the dough,
2-3 times more of banging the eggs and spreading them all over the pancakes.
BPG: extra eggs for you too, hehehe, you ah (are) my last
customer, thank you.
H: thinking real hard again, woh this guy is no doubt a kool
guy for a street vendor, hmm... (sign of hardcore appreciation); oh oh, niiice,
niiice, thank you too for the eggs and all, Thailand has some classic
late-night snacks, *thumbing up for him.
Can I take a picture of you?
BPG: why not? sure…sure you can.
So I took his photos and decided to put it as a cover for
this article in the website, he deserves it.
Certain times bring together certain people at the same
place though a certain thing. Banana pancake has been an amusement to me since
my first KPS trip with my teacher and it has followed me here to Pratunam too.
Deja vu; things, in some ways, seem as if they happen as if they
have been planned from years ago. And simple kind acts make these things worth
talking about.
I haven't met him before and he hasn't either and we bumped
into each other over a banana pancake. The greeting, the simple conversation
over what I wanted and what he wanted to offer and what I got which was more
than the money i paid for, i wondered if he does that to all or i was the
customer he chose to impress; in both the cases, i am the one being served and
i couldn't have thanked him enough for what he got me that day, one more reason
to believe in humanity.
This is the last night in Bangkok.
The latter half of the evening went as simple as it could
be, simple dinner and early to bed. Our bus back to Phnom Penh was scheduled at
02:00 am and mom had her Mommy-Alarm set. Waking up to the midnight alarm was
another story, I could almost use tooth picks to keep my eye lids up and open.
Checked out of the hotel and got on the bus only to find out
that the bus was super nice with very stiff seats, nice not-working-ac set in “lukewarm”
mode and we had almost 12 hours to burn in it.
I stayed focus somehow and continued my deep meditation and closed
my eyes.
Everest climbers wake up to Mt. Everest while hongyy woke up
to the boarder of Thailand and Cambodia, Poi Pet; see you soon Cambodia. The
bus from Poi Pet to Phnom Penh was the best ever 7-hours-bus ride I've ever got
on to, three stops as precisely as I would have wanted, breakfast with Bay Sach
Jruk (pork chop rice), lunch with tons of various Khmer dishes with some I
could not even pronounce their names, and a snack station selling coffee, good
lord, one of those and I was up and running, I mean I ended my meditation mode
and woke up wide open and read a bit.
We arrived home around 05:00 pm due to the halts we made, to
be precise, we tuktuk-ed back home safe and sound, but the worn-out-ness struck
the moment we got home. Dinner followed with beef noodle soup with extra
meatballs from a nearby food vendor; no more hustling!
I got into my room with mixed feelings, yet another trip has
ended and so, where to next?
Good show, Jolly good show.
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