Dropping Baht at the Boxing Ring

Watching the matches inside Ratchadamnoen Stadium. As a side note,
Coke vs. Pepsi: Coke definitely throws the better punch!

As far as sports go, I’ve never been big on boxing. I’m a basketball fan all the way. Even football seems a bit brutal for me, so my small knowledge of Muay Thai boxing kept me changing the channel.

But Wednesday night found me with several other Carolina Southeast Asia Summer Program (SEAS) participants cheering and shouting as muscular men in red and blue boxing shorts kicked and punched.

My simple description sadly conflates Thai boxing, however. For “kicking and punching” sounds as brutal as I’d originally judged the sport to be. But boxing is really a lot more like dancing than anything else, and few people would label dancing as “brutal.”

Watch out! After a 2-hour Thai Boxing class, I can really pack a wallop :)

To be fair, I would probably never have come to this conclusion if I hadn’t taken a Thai boxing class last week. Our two-hour instruction involved demonstrations of many basic steps, among them: mat nueng (jab), mat wiang klap (spinning backfist), te tat (roundhouse kick), te khrueng khaeng khrueng khao (half-shin, half-knee kick), khayoep (step-up kick), kradot thip (jumping foot-thrust), swan-neck and blocking and avoidance techniques. The intricate names themselves speak to more than mere punching and kicking. While I watched our instructors demonstrate each of these steps time and time again, I elicited only titters with my efforts to emulate them. Just because I made contact with my partner, didn’t mean that I’d punched or kicked him correctly; there was an artistry to the technique and the combination of steps that I never quite mastered. But I did gain a great appreciation for what I had the opportunity to watch Wednesday night.  

From the get-go, our Thai boxing expedition was an adventure. My friend and SEAS participant Emory Wolf and I left the university campus in the late afternoon to catch a taxi and arrive shortly before the first match started at 6:30. Unfortunately, our first cab driver didn’t understand our poor pronunciation of “Ratchadamnoen Stadium,” nor did he understand our boxing mime attempts. And when it finally dawned on him that our jabbing fists were the result of feeble miming and not the result of a crazy American tick, he just laughed and charged us 40 baht for a drive around the neighborhood.

Our second cabbie was more willing to drive across town, and we still arrived earlier than expected, giving us enough time to order steaming dishes of Pad Thai off the street and eat them with the locals and several jumbo-sized rats.

And that's what I call a good kick!

The atmosphere outside the stadium was intoxicating. Several ticket salesmen accosted us with brochures describing the matches, circling the “big matches” of the evening and trying to convince us to spring for ringside seating (costing 2000 baht, or about US$63) as opposed to the 1000 baht (or about US$31 tickets, which were “standing room only.” Luckily, a few friends had gone to the matches Monday night and told us that the ticket sales were a gimmick.

Sure enough, our cheaper tickets (which we bought 30 minutes into the event) left us with plenty of seats, and while we were surrounded by excited fans betting thousands of baht at a time on individual punches and entire matches, we found the rest of our fellow tourists sitting in a much tamer ringside environment, with only a slightly better view of the matches.

I'll take that bet!

But I didn’t go to the stadium to watch boxing. I was much more interested in the culture surrounding the fights. I went to the matches with a group of four other friends – all girls. We made up more than 50% of the female population at the matches. The other two or three women in the stadium were solely comprised of confused, discontented girlfriends, who were obviously still in the honeymoon stage of the relationship and afraid of dragging their partners off to shopping malls to drop the big baht.

Men laughed and pointed at us. My friends, dressed in skirts and flowing Aladdin pants were a bit over-dressed for the average shorts and t-shirt-clad audience member. We stood at the wire meshing, which separated 1000 baht ticket buyers from the higher class and we cheered on blue shorts or red shorts (depending on the match) as well as the rest of them.

The biggest benefit to watching an all-male sport? Short bathroom lines. I’ve never been to a sporting event in which the men had to stand in line, while the women could walk right in. But I had my choice of stalls and could have probably hung out in the bathroom uninterrupted until the match this coming Thursday.

But our long hair and inability to gamble made us stick out, and on more than one occasion we were escorted to the “foreigners” section, where the atmosphere was tamer (and a bit boring). Still, like flies to honey, we always returned to sit among locals, waving their arms, placing bets and flashing 1000 baht bills at one another. Sitting with this knowledgeable crowd came with more than entertainment benefits. My complete lack of understanding for the game meant that it took me a few rounds to figure out the scoreboard. Did the red and green numbers count hits? Wins? No, after much pointing and miming with the knowledgeable man sitting beside me, I learned that it actually marked the match number and the number of rounds that had expired within each match.

Maggie Walker and I watching the match inside Ratchadamnoen Stadium.

Each match included five rounds, with the first one or two serving as a warm-up for both boxers and betters. As the fighters tested the agility of their opponents, the betters judged their abilities and likelihood to win them big baht. By round three, our companions were shouting, flagging down betting officials and furiously scribbling on printed scorecards. After watching the betting dynamic for a few rounds, I was struck that no one seemed to win or lose much; they just exchanged bills between matches. You win some and you lose some.

Except for one man. With a wallet thick with 1000s, he was the guru of betting. Sure, he lost a few big bills, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He’d shrug and laugh, buy some pineapple off the lady selling freshly cut fruit from a basket, bet higher and get his bills (and a few more) right back.

We didn’t make it through the full four-hours of matches. With our last day of classes the following morning and needing to account for finding a taxi willing to take us back to campus (and not treat us to a tour of the stadium grounds), we left around 9 p.m., just as the matches really started to get heated. (Those warm-up rounds included kicks to the head and neck-to-neck struggles). So, we bid farewell (and good luck) to our gambling companions and then cooled off with 7/11 ice cream before heading back to the university.

I can say with confidence that I will never be a Thai boxer. I may not ever even try the sport again. And I don’t see myself becoming one of those people who goes to the ring once, twice, three times a week. But the next time Muay Thai boxing is playing on TV, I won’t change the channel so quickly. I won’t be so interested in the matches themselves. I’ll be waiting for the cameramen to scan the audience members, placing bets and munching on watermelon and papaya. Maybe I’ll even see the man with the thick wallet, laughing off losses and betting big baht at the boxing ring.

Escaping Bangkok Traffic by Air and Sea

Our group pre-300+ stairs to the top of The Golden Mount!

Bangkok traffic is no laughing matter. About 15 minutes outside the Mahidol Campus and I’m stuck sitting on the road (in a taxi, mind you) with my friends and fellow Carolina Southeast Asia Summer Program (SEAS) participants, Calvary Diggs, Kristin Kent and Brenna Yellin. We’ve not moved in an hour.

But don’t let the lack of motion confuse you. Dealing with traffic in Bangkok is a full-fledged sport. Take tuk tuks for example. These virtual tin cans on three wheels deny the forces of physics and the fear of death, winding in and out of buses and cars at high speed. Only the motorcycle taxis top their gumption. They drive on the lines instead of zigzagging between them.

Earlier this week, my friends and I decided to avoid Bangkok traffic and try a different method of transportation: the water taxis. Granted, we had to take regular taxis to and from the river (thus our aforementioned street squatting), but once we arrived at the water, we were suddenly free of the crowds and fumes.

A quick pic inside the original Mandarin Oriental Hotel before our rushed exit!

Our first stop was the original Mandarin Oriental Hotel. With five stars, it was more palatial shopping mall than hotel. Dressed in shorts, t-shirts and sandals (proper water taxi gear, considering the potential splashing), we were glaringly out of place in a marble-floored entrance way, accented by gigantic orchid-filled birdcages and a wall of windows, opening to the riverfront. (My outfit did have a touch of class. After all, my bright red t-shirt read “Coca-Cola Classic” in Thai.) About five seconds after entering, a guard dressed in a black button-down suit with gold buttons followed us into the courtyard and asked us, politely, civilly, mind you, but with great authority, how he could help us (find the exit, that is). He gave us directions to the water taxi stop (located directly behind the hotel), and we slowly, made our way out of the hotel, soaking up the scenery to the very last moment and wishing that we exuded the same moneyed glow of the hotel’s flip-flopping shorts-wearing patrons.

No better way to avoid Bangkok traffic than to take to the sea-- an inexpensive
alternative to the land taxi is the water taxi. And it provides a great view, too!

But we were happy with our wardrobe choice once we got to the water. For 15 baht (about 50 cents), we took an enjoyable ride along the river, stopping along the way to tour several temples. The most beautiful temple we came across we never actually toured. Not that we didn’t try. We made it to a large white gate sandwiched between two parking lots. Beyond those gates, we could just see Wat Ratchaburana Ratchworawharn. (In Thai, “wat” means “temple.”) The dying sunlight twinkled off window mosaics of red and blue glass, illuminating intricately carved Hindu-inspired golden statues. 

But like I said, we only admired from afar. You see, the double parking lot and extensive gates, fortified by the construction of a gigantic gas station blocking off the back entryway, kept us outside. We renamed the “wat” a “parking wat” and moved on to the Temple of the Dawn, which Kristin’s guidebook suggested viewing at dawn, a suggestion that our sleep schedules simply would not permit.

A view from the top of the Golden Mount.

The highlight of the afternoon was our over 300-stair ascent to the top of the Golden Mount, the highest point of the old city. (It’s illegal to build high rises in historic Bangkok.) During our climb, we were treated to the cathartic reciting of Buddhist chants. The view from the top of the mount offered a spectacular view of the city: new and old, sparkling and decrepit buildings were constructed side-by-side. The Thai and monarchy flags flapped regally in the wind, as we watched a group of kids playing soccer on a nearby roof.

We took a tuk tuk back to the riverfront, where we took one more luxurious ride over the water to return to the heart of the city. And so, as we sat on the highway, talking over our relaxing day and listening to the Thai radio, we didn’t even mind the long wait back to the university. After all, we’d avoided traffic by way of water and mounts. We’d headed off campus to see Bangkok from a new perspective. And as we headed out of the city at 5 p.m., we were afforded one last view of Bangkok. This one was from the taxi window, and it didn’t change at all for over an hour.

Playing Beyond the Barriers

Enjoying the Thailand Philharmonic Orchestra concert. 

What better way to spend a Friday night than by getting a front and center seat to watch an orchestra concert? As Carolina Southeast Asia Summer Program (SEAS) participants, we had the chance to do just that. The Thailand Philharmonic Orchestra, composed of musicians from more than 15 different countries, and supported by the Royal Thai Government (ie. the king) and Mahidol University College of Music, presented “Amazing Rachmaninov” to a spellbound audience July 6-7. Luckily for us, the orchestra routinely performs at Mahidol University’s Music School, which is just a short walk away from the on-campus hotel where we are living.

Before the concert even began, we were treated to the orchestral playing of the national anthem. We stood to honor country and king. Interestingly, in Thailand the national anthem is played a lot more often than in the ballpark and at Independence Day celebrations. Students at Mahidol University stop midstride twice a day (at 8 a.m. and 6 p.m.) to pay respect to their country. And if you take a casual trip to the movie theater to watch The Amazing Spider Man, you’re still not exempt from standing to watch a montage of photographs of the royalty’s interactions with locals, set to the national anthem. I’ve never been so moved by any anthem – and I’m rather partial to our star-spangled banner – than I was by the 90-piece orchestra rendition of the Thai anthem.

The everyday playing of the national anthem is just one of the many differences of Thailand to which we’ve grown accustomed over the past few weeks. One aspect that we’ve had more difficulty with is the language barrier. None of the 26 program participants speak Thai, except of course for a few essential words, like “sà-wàt-dee kah,” (“hello”), “kob kun kah” (“thank you”), and, perhaps most importantly, “mai pet” (“not spicy”). So you can imagine our relief to sit in an auditorium, enjoying the luxury of not having to communicate at all.

After the anthem, we settled into our seats – I was four rows from the front, dead center stage – to enjoy the renowned flute soloist, Giuseppe Nova, who, according to my program notes, has been called “one of the most outstanding Italian flutists of his generation,” play Saverio Mercadante’s Flute Concerto in E minor, Op 57. The notes carried me away to a spring day far from the hot and sticky climate of Thailand. The soloist received such enthusiastic applause that we were treated to an encore before the program was even over. Even without the flutist for Sergei Rachmaninov’s Symphony No. 2 in E minor, Op. 27, the concert continued in style. I was carried away with the energy and strength of the strings section. One cellist played with such ardor that his strings continually popped off during the rendition.

When the concert was over, the evening was not. Both the conductor and the soloist headed to the front lobby to meet with audience members and to sign the programs of excited school children (and UNC students). With stars in our eyes, we could not stand to admit that the evening was over. (After all, we are heading into the concluding week of the program, which means that we’re staring into the angry eyes of final exams, projects and papers, making relaxation and procrastination that much more appealing.)

Dr. Tsin, the instructor of this year’s SEAS program, offered to take us out for coffee. But in Thailand most coffee shops are closed by 10 p.m., so Dr. Tsin joked that he could take us to the 7/11 instead. But Dr. Tsin wasn’t too far off. We headed to the 24-hour campus Tops Daily, where we enjoyed Walls ice cream cones and reminisced over our evening filled with classical music.

Before we attended the concert, we’d wondered about what type of music we’d hear. We knew it would be a classical concert, but we didn’t know the composers, and we wondered if we’d have the chance to hear classical Thai music. The first composer was Italian and the next was Russian. So we didn’t get a taste of classical music endemic to Thailand, but that didn’t mean that we missed out. After all, no two performances are the same. And I’m fairly confident that if I’d been in a music hall in Italy or Russia, I’d have been treated to a rather different rendition. And I’m absolutely certain that I would not have been asked to stand to honor country and king, been treated to a mid-concert encore or gotten the highly valuable signatures of both conductor and soloist. But most of all, I came away with an appreciation of the beauty of music – especially classical orchestral music –for it can be understood and enjoyed by all, even years after it was first composed, no matter your nationality, language or culture.

Oh the Places You’ll Go and the People You’ll Meet at Mahidol

Two benefits of dinner out with friends from MUIC:
1) great conversation and 2) they can read the menus!

When the Carolina Southeast Asia Summer Program (SEAS) left for Thailand last week, I didn’t know what to expect. Until then, the program had traveled to the same countries as last year (Singapore and Brunei), and as a return participant and research fellow this year, I’d known how to prepare. However, last year the group traveled to India instead of Thailand, so I couldn’t truly anticipate what I would see or how I would react in Bangkok.

Of course, I had heard about some of the amazing places and things to do in Thailand, with riding an elephant at the very top of that list. And while I hadn’t actually seen The Hangover 2, which takes place in Bangkok, where we would be spending much of our time, I had heard enough about it to know where to draw the line on that list. I’m rather attached to my fingers, thank you very much.

When I arrived in Thailand, I was immediately struck by what I saw on the roadside: the heavy flow of rainbow-colored traffic, about 50% of which seemed to be taxis. The speed and agility of the other half, made up mostly of three-wheeled tuk tuks, large buses, and swarms of motorcycles, most of which hold (at least) two people, sometimes entire families. The four-faced elephant-shaped temple located between the airport and Mahidol University International College (MUIC), where we are staying. The 7/11 stores placed every 200 meters between MUIC and Bangkok. (7/11 runs have become a habitual part of every day, especially for such essentials as sodas and Walls ice cream bars.)

First day of classes at MUIC: looking good in our uniforms!

But I didn’t even have to look beyond the university’s walls to see a different college culture. At MUIC everyone – including the SEAS participants – wear uniforms. A sign in the front lobby reads: “Uniforms, Unity.” Girls wear black skirts (pencil or pleated) and short-sleeved button-down shirts with pens clipped below the collars, closed-toed shoes, brown suede belts and official Mahidol University belt buckles. And the boys wear long black pants, long-sleeved collared shirts, dress shoes, black belts and official school ties and belt buckles.

Of course, as with all schools that require uniforms, no two people wear their uniforms the same way. Some of the boys pop their collars, wear their pants super tight or rather loose or sport vibrantly colored sneakers and girls accessorize to the max with jewelry, flats and belt clasps. We, too, have adapted this method for uniform consumption. Many of us hit up the student stores for MUIC belt jewelry, others considered getting the official Mahidol bowties, and all of us spent well over two hours stuffed inside a small uniform shop trying on different lengths and sizes of skirts and pants.

But the difference in college culture extends beyond the uniform requirement. This week Mahidol seniors are getting ready for graduation. The ceremony isn’t until Thursday, but they’ve already had two run-throughs on Salaya campus, as well as a dress rehearsal at the navy base on Wednesday. You see, a special guest will be attending the ceremony. Each year, graduates receive their diploma from a member of the royal family  - either the popular princess or her elder brother, the prince. You spend three days practicing your walk, as well, to keep from slipping in front of the princess.

All week the campus has been overrun with graduates, their proud families and what must comprise every single photographer in Thailand. Graduates in black gowns decorated with pink, orange and blue ribbons, denoting schools, pose for photographs at the Music School, overlooking a lake and guest house, in front of “Congratulations, Graduate” signs, in front of the flag stand (students stop for the anthem twice daily at 8 a.m. and 6 p.m.) and even in front of the Black Canyon Coffee Shop.

Vendors line the campus square and surrounding streets, selling freshly cut (and silk) roses, teddy bears in caps and gowns and even “Congratulations” pillows. But my favorite item was a t-shirt reading “I am Just Graduated from Mahidol.”

I’ve been waxing about the differences between universities like Mahidol and UNC, but I don’t want to give the wrong impression. Like UNC students, MUIC students have a range of ways to get to class. At UNC you see a slew of walkers, bus riders, bikers, skateboarders and the occasional unicyclist. Similarly, at Mahidol walking, driving (car or bus) and biking trump the list. But unlike the casual UNC bike rider, Mahidol students take it a step further: most bikes hold two people (one person pedals while the other rides on the back seat. When it rains, the person in the back holds an umbrella and during the hottest hours of the afternoon, they’ll hold one (or two!) electric fans, the blades turning in the wind).

The club culture on campus is literally thumping. During our welcome dinner at the university, we were introduced to the Thai cheering team, traditional dance club and kickboxing club. An instructor showed us up in a two-hour kickboxing demonstration/ practice, which left us battered, bruised and begging for more.

Mahidol also has its own Franklin Street. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that Phuttamontol Sai 4 dwarfs our sacred street in size and options. Both streets have the go-to bars and university shops. But while Franklin St. seems to be stuck in a pizza-burger-ice cream rut, Phuttamontol Sai 4 enjoys a variety of cuisine, including a slew of Thai restaurants, a pizzeria and other Western shops and a string of street vendors, selling excellent (and cheap!) cuisine, like sweet pork noodle soup and chicken kabobs.

As for dessert, Phuttamontol Sai 4’s Sugarland equivalent is Ton Kok, which specializes in light, spongy chocolate and orange cakes, with the latter tasting as if you’ve actually bitten into an orange in cake form and both topped with a succulent gelatin ganache, And Ice Manias is Phuttamontol Sai 4’s version of Yopo/ Cold Stone. Here, the vendor makes each person’s ice cream order by hand. You have your choice of three flavors (chocolate, vanilla or yogurt), two mix-ins and one topping. The vendor pours a cup of the flavored sauce onto an icy white metal board, where it freezes over. He then spreads it into a thin sheet, and adds one of your mix-ins (say chopped raspberries or banana), scrapes the newly-formed ice cream into six roll-ups and adds your second mix-in, say chocolate chips or red bean. And finally, he garnishes the artwork with your choice of chocolate, raspberry or caramel syrup. Each ice cream takes about 10 minutes to make, so the line forms quickly but is well worth the wait.

With the university about two hours (with considerable traffic) outside of Bangkok, I’m struck by how much I still have left to see and do both on campus and in the city in the last week we have left in Thailand. Luckily, even though we can’t go into Bangkok every day, I never feel like I’m missing out. After all, on the nights I have to stay in to study, I’m still confronted with new experiences. Halfway through an early morning run on Sunday, I was stopped for the playing of the National Anthem. Rushing off to class, we’ve had to navigate precarious detours around graduation photography shoots. And setting out for a quick dinner on Phuttamontol Sai 4’s, we’ve been whisked away by our new school friends, who have helped us navigate our way through the Thai menus.

We have a lot planned for our last week in Thailand: taking a riverboat cruise, shopping at the floating markets, watching a Thai boxing match, and heading to the rooftop bar made famous by The Hangover 2, to name a few. But the moments I’ll treasure most probably won’t happen on the water, in a boxing ring, or even in sacred Hangover territory. I won’t need to lose a finger to remember Thailand. Rather my experience will be marked not by what I have lost, but by what I have gained: a host of new friends and a few boxing bruises.