Bangkok Pink

Riding in a hot pink taxi--- A dream come true!

To say that hot pink is my favorite color is a masterpiece of understatement. At the ripe old age of three, I announced my color choice and have never looked back. Through the years, it’s been a struggle, though. I’ve found that most people don’t have my level of discernment when it comes to color differentiation.

When I say that hot pink is my favorite color, I mean that HOT pink is my favorite color. Pale pink and other watery, dull shades are overrated and don’t deserve to be in the same category as their bright and vibrant sister. And the same goes for the other side of the extreme. Unfortunately, many people look at hot pink and mistake it for red. While red is a beautiful color, it’s a bit too stark and forceful. Since announcing my favorite color, I’ve had quite a few disagreements with people over what is truly pink.

But in Bangkok, it’s different. As soon as I arrived in Thailand with the Carolina Southeast Asia Summer Program (SEAS), I noticed that the country made the same subtle distinctions between pink shades. The evidence whizzed down the very streets of Bangkok. I’m talking about the rainbow of taxis, which come in just about every shade imaginable: yellow, green, yellow/green, orange, red, blue, and, yes, even hot pink.

As soon as I saw a hot pink taxi, I was ready to hail one over and jump inside. In fact, taking a pink cab shot up to the top of my priority list. Knowing that different colored taxis denote different cab companies and that certain colors used to be considered safer than others, I curbed my desire until I could be sure that a ride in a hot pink taxi would not be my last. When I was assured of my safety, I made it my mission to hop inside.

So during one of my first nights in Bangkok, after a rainy afternoon spent inside Paragon Cineplex to watch The Amazing Spider Man, followed by a full day of shopping and a rather interesting – and when I say interesting, I’m avoiding the use of other synonyms like disgusting and gross – dinner at Sunrise Tacos, my SEAS friends, Isabella Sun and Olivia Byrd, and I headed towards the taxi queue to hail a taxi home. But getting a cab in Bangkok – a city literally crawling with taxis – is not as easy as it sounds. Even if we’d been willing to stand in the long, snaking line outside Paragon Mall, I doubt we’d have been lucky enough to find a ride back to Mahidol University International College (MUIC). We’d probably still be at the mall, trying to negotiate an illegal deal with the cabbies.

You see, in touristy areas like Bangkok, especially on busy streets near large shopping malls, taxi drivers bend the rules. Legally, cab drivers must use their meters to determine cab fare. Hailing a cab costs 35 baht (or about US$1) and most rides from the city back to MUIC cost around 200 baht. However, with a long taxi queue winding down the street, many cabbies hide their meters and insist (before you’ve even told them where you’re going) on “500 baht” (or about US$15) for the full ride. So when this first cabbie outside Siam Paragon made his overwhelmingly overpriced offer, I was tempted to accept and ask the driver to keep driving and stop when he got to Vietnam. After all, a trip from Bangkok to Vietnam for just 500 baht would be a pretty good deal.

Anyway, my sense of humor did not go over so well with that first wheeling and dealing cab driver, so we stepped out of the queue and took the sky train to a less-traveled area to stand in yet another winding line to wait for yet more wheeling and dealing cab drivers. The line was long, but luckily a slew of motorcycle taxis rolled to a stop and took on the more experienced cab riders, shortening our line to a more reasonable size. We still waited a good 30 minutes, but it was worth the wait. For, after a rainbow of green, orange and red taxis tried to make 500-baht deals, a hot pink taxi pulled to the curb and turned on the meter.

The ride put a lot of things in perspective. We learned to hail cabs in less crowded areas and to try to get a ride home earlier in the evening. But I also came away with one more piece of knowledge. I have a new favorite color: Bangkok Pink.

What to Expect When You’re Accepting

Olivia Byrd, Bridie McDonough and I pose in front of the Reclining
Buddha, at Wat Pho Chetuphon, the birthplace of the Thai massage.

For months leading up to the Carolina Southeast Asia Summer Program (SEAS), I had heard of the great wonders of the Thai massage. So when we arrived in Thailand, I knew that I wanted to get one, although I didn’t really know what that entailed.  I’d heard something about wearing one-size fits all pajama pants and the importance of requesting a group room. And I’d even heard rumors that the masseuse would flip you over her back at the end of the massage. But other than that, I didn’t know what to expect.

You see, I hadn’t had time to do my research. I knew that I wanted to spend my Saturday afternoon in Bangkok, but once I got there, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Spontaneity would rule the day and plans were out the window.

So when I wandered into a salon in Bangkok with two other SEAS participants, Max Cullen and Daron Holman, to request a Thai massage, I really had no idea what I was getting myself into. And judging by the small stature of the three women, all dressed in flowing yellow pants, who greeted us at the door, I was a little worried about that potential backflip at the end.

We asked to see a menu of massage offerings, some of which included facials and hot stones, but we were set on the full Thai massage. The only problem was that it would last two hours. But after a little negotiating and a lot of smiling, we managed to split the cost and time in half.

The masseuses began by washing our feet. Then we followed them into an upstairs room, where we changed into bright red pajamas and lay down on our backs. They started with our toes and worked their way to our temples, kneading the balls of our feet, pushing their legs against our thighs, pulling our fingers, stretching our arms over our heads and ending with a fantastic back crack (without any hazardous flipping involved). 

The only downside to getting a group massage is that you have a tendency to compare what you’re getting to the people beside you. Do I have the best masseuse? Why isn’t she popping my toes yet? Am I as relaxed as my neighbor? Of course, these questions stop about three minutes into the massage when you relax into a semi-comatose position, your eyes begin to flutter and you wish you’d paid for that second hour. (I also realized just how glad I was that I’d come to Bangkok without any agenda. The end result was so good that I now plan to NOT make a plan many more times while I’m in Bangkok. I’ve found that accepting opportunities as they come along often yields great – and relaxing! – benefits.)

Our massage came on top of a jam-packed morning touring the Grand Palace and several temples, including the Temple of the Emerald Buddha (the Buddha was actually made of jade) and Wat Pho Chetuphon, which houses a gigantic golden reclining Buddha with feet decorated with inlaid mother of pearl. (Coincidentally, the Wat Pho is also the birthplace of the Thai massage.) Then we’d spent several hours in the Museum of Siam learning about the complications of Thai (or is Siamese?) identity. So you can imagine the state of our aching limbs when we arrived at the salon.

Daron Holman and I relax after our very first Thai massages!

As for the pain I’d worried about, it was minimal, although early on, I suddenly feared needles might be involved. This resulted from a sharp stinging sensation that pulsed first through my feet and then up both legs. A small light came on, and I realized that my masseuse was observing my skin with her iPhone. When she started laughing, I realized my mistake. The pain was not from needles at all but rather from her fingers pressing into dozens of mosquito bites grouped around my ankles. We both laughed and the masseuse said something to her partner in Thai, which I can only imagine had something to do with the state of my heavily bitten legs.

As I dozed in and out of consciousness, I remembered something that we’d discussed as a group earlier in the day when we toured the museum: no two Thai (slash Siamese) are the same. And so, as the masseuse folded my legs like a grasshopper and kneaded kinks out of my back that I didn’t know I’d had, I came to the realization that no two Thai massages are the same, either. Just because we’d all ordered Thai massages, didn’t mean we’d get identical ones. Each masseuse had her own version of the massage. And so as my massage came to a close and we enjoyed hot tea (from NASCAR teacups depicting Dale Earnhardt Jr.) with our masseuses in the front lobby, I came to a second conclusion: it would be improper, rude even, to define the Thai massage based on a single experience. I guess I’ll just have to get another one (or two or three) before I can fairly judge. I’ll keep you posted.

Sunset Over Singapore

The view from the top of Marina Bay Sands Hotel.

I spent my last week in Singapore with the Carolina Southeast Asia Summer Program (SEAS) doing all of my favorite things one last time and discovering some new favorite things along the way. Thursday afternoon I returned to the Chinese Gardens and climbed a pagoda to overlook beautiful ponds and bridges. I also walked past a series of statues, honoring renowned Chinese historical figureheads, whizzing past the pious Confucius for a quick pic with Hua Mulan, a woman who left her family for 12 years to fight in the Chinese army (and also got a pretty great Disney movie made about her in the process). Friday night we danced our way to the top of a three-tiered stage at Zouk – ranked the 9^th best club in the world and then awoke the next morning for a spectacular hike through MacRitchie Nature Reserve, where we saw no less than 10 monkeys picnicking on the lawn. And I spent my last day in Singapore at Pulau Ubin – a tiny island just a taxi/ ferry ride away and home to an old-fashioned way of life, filled with kampong villages, spectacular biking trails, palm tree vistas, coastal boardwalks and the best chili crab you’ve ever (not) tasted.

But Saturday night holds a special place in my heart, as I spent it atop the Marina Bay Sands Hotel, a five-star hotel overlooking Marina Bay Sands. From the rooftop, I watched the sunset over Singapore and reflected on my second visit to the country. And then I was interrupted. First by Apache helicopters swooping overhead. Followed by several rounds of cannon fire. And then by another troop of jets – this time with one baring the Singapore flag. Then by the national anthem sung from the multicolored floating platform. And finally by a spectacular burst of fireworks, which split across the night sky in celebration of – wait for it – one of several dress rehearsals for the big National Day Parade next month. If you doubted whether people take National Day seriously in Singapore, think again. They put our 4^th of July fireworks and weenie roasts to shame.

I had been to the top of the Sands Hotel to watch the sunset with a group of friends last year. And last year when I spoke about my experience in Singapore, I always waxed eloquently about the sight from the rooftop – being able to look out and see most of the country – all of our favorite hangouts: Marina Bay, the Singapore Flyer, the ritzy five-star hotels, the barrage, the Esplanade, and a handful of museums … and if you looked beyond that you could even see the foggy edges of Malaysia and Indonesia. Three countries from the vantage point of a rooftop!

Fireworks over Marina Bay Sands

But this viewing experience was quite different. First of all, this year we could also see the Gardens by the Bay, the newest edition to the ever-changing city. (The gardens opened the Thursday after we’d left, but our friends back in Singapore called it a must-see attraction and described in detail the solar-powered supertrees, which display over 200,000 plant species from all over the world.) But beyond mere additions, this rooftop view encapsulated more than just a skyline cast in pink and purple hues, for the scenery – the fighter jets and battleships, the cannon balls and fireworks – came to life and gave us a farewell you could find nowhere else. Because like everything else in Singapore, the celebration was perfectly, wonderfully, spectacularly overboard.

Several of my friends and I had decided to stay on the rooftop to watch the light show – a fantastic display of what technology and the Singaporean kiasu (or desire to be first) spirit can do with water and light. (Imagine, if you will, watching television on a screen made completely of water vapor and light, all set to a sound score performed by a 140-piece orchestra, and you’ll have an idea of what I’m talking about.) When the light show began sharply at 8 p.m., the chorus was still singing, and half way through the show, the fireworks started in earnest, so we were torn between three performances. Talk about not knowing where to look!

Only we did know where to look. For as the shows came to a close and the watercolor backdrop darkened and the nightlights flickered on, we were drawn not to the city itself but to the reflections in one another’s eyes. And I saw how I had been changed by the city that is always changing.

Two Movie Tickets and a Plate of Chicken Rice

Calvary Diggs and I on the 9th floor of Cathay Cineleisure,
checking out the game room before ducking inside to see
Snow White and the Huntsman.

I’m possibly the biggest movie buff you’ll ever meet. I could spend an entire day in the theater, if the nice people at the cinema would let me. In fact, on several vacations, I actually have bought a handful of tickets and camped out all afternoon and into the night. Action, Comedy, Chic-Flic. As long as it’s not horror, I’m pretty sure to see it. And that’s why, when I traveled to Singapore with the Carolina Southeast Asia Summer program (SEAS) this year, I knew going to the movie theater would be a top priority.

Honestly, I didn’t expect the movie-going experience to be all that different that in the States. But, boy, was I wrong! I met my friend and fellow SEAS participant, Calvary Diggs near Orchard Road, where a Singaporean friend had suggested that we go to Cathay Cineleisure Orchard. At 9 stories tall, this complex took entertainment to a whole new level. Upon entering we were met not with the typical aroma of freshly popped popcorn (that was there, too), but with a vast array of culinary delights, from chicken rice to gelato.

We couldn’t just walk up to the ticket counter and buy our tickets, either. We had to go up five floors, where we were presented with a screen displaying all remaining available seats in the theater. We selected two and were given tickets allocating those two exact spaces. No hustling to get seats next to one another. Going in a large group would be a breeze! I grabbed a Magnum Bar to snack on (a rather elementary mistake as ice cream melts, so my snack lasted through the previews and I was finished by the opening credits), and then we proceeded to the top floor, where one of the two theaters on that level was showing Snow White and the Huntsman, our movie pick of the evening.

But first, we had to queue, or wait in (several) lines for the elevator, and then, when we did finally arrive (The whole movie-going process had been rather more extensive than we’d planned, so at this point we were hustling to make it before the previews ended.), we were met, not with the door to our theater but with an entire video game room and yet another concession stand. Apparently, Singaporeans take their snacking and leisure time seriously.

Each theater was guarded by several men in uniform (teenagers would be hard-pressed for any questionable double-features here), and the theater itself was quite small, with one aisle separating about 10 rows of 5 seats on either side, but the size of the theater didn’t seem to matter, for very few people were actually seated.

When the movie started, I figured the surprises had ended. Instead, we were met with Mandarin subtitles. And then, about halfway through the movie, the audience finally arrived. That’s right, Snow White was already lost in the enchanted forest, her huntsman madly in love with her and the evil step mother lurking in the trees by the time half the viewers finally deigned to show up. (As for the other half, most of them were on their cell phones, texting through the dramatic scenes anyway.) But no one seemed to be in need of any CliffsNotes. Maybe the subtitles helped, but the other viewers seemed better in touch with the plotline than me and pointed out the seven dwarves before I’d even equated the short men with beards to their Disney counterparts.

Orchard Road was still bustling when we left the cinema around midnight. But with the Mass Rapid Transit (MRT) closing in a few minutes, we hailed a taxi back. Our cab driver never spoke. Maybe he was listening too closely to my conversation with Calvary. After all, how often do most people have the opportunity to hear two teenagers talking animatedly about a bunch of dwarves and a princess who mistakenly ate a poisoned apple? Of course, most of the conversation didn’t revolve around the movie itself; we’d found our entertainment not so much in Snow White and the Huntsman, but rather in the culture of Singaporean cinema. Next time, I think I’ll order a plate of chicken rice with my movie.