I find that even if I've spent only a few days in a guest house or hotel room I begin extending emotional tendrils of attachment no matter how dismal the place may actually be and find myself battling an internal inertia when the time arrives to pack up and leave. The guest house room I had been staying in Bangkok was no exception to this even though it had no TV and was all of about 10-12 square meters in area. After over a week of staying there I had worked out a nicely efficient system of strewing my belongings about, fully utilizing the spaces between bed and wall, and created a Twister-board layout of foot-sized areas of clear floor space so that I could successfully step gingerly about. All my loose odds and ends had nudged and crammed their way into the single drawer in the 1 foot square bedside table. And now I had to force myself to dismantle this carefully crafted living space and reconfigure it back into my single shoulder bag and backpack. The shoulder bag will at times seem overly accommodating when packed as if my belongings had all gone on a crash diet while at other times packing it devolves into the proverbial task of stuffing 7 pounds of feathers into a 5-pound sack. I have yet to determine just out how this difference arises but suspect one of those pesky laws of thermodynamics that even Einstein conceded he was at a loss to do anything about. Regardless I once again succeeded in condensing all my belongings into these 2 carryable bags and was ready to check out.
First, a redaction regarding an earlier comment I made about the Sky Train in Bangkok not serving the area around the Chao Phraya river. That statement is correct with the small exception that, well, the Sky Train does go to the Chao Phraya river. It goes right up to it, lets you off at the central pier, and apparently (I didn't venture beyond the central pier) dips under the river and continues into the western side of Bangkok terminating I don't know where exactly and I am a bit gun shy about venturing another guess. From the central pier one can jump on one of the many passenger ferries that work the river like a fleet of water borne city buses with the low fares to match. It was one of these ferries that dropped me off at a point along the river that allowed me to finally explore the Banglamphu backpacker area where I found lots of the expected backpackeresque goods for sale at backerpackeresque prices along the main thoroughfare, Khao San road. One of the more interesting products on offer from numerous vendors was an astonishingly comprehensive assortment of fake ID's. I took the opportunity to renew my California driver license while there as it was so much easier than a day spent at the DMV and the vendor, he was a Thai guy whose name escapes me at the moment, personally guaranteed its full acceptability. Now that, my friends, is service!
I had noticed on my tourist map an attraction labeled the Jim Thompson Musuem that was located very close to my guest house and thought I should at least pay it a visit without really expecting very much. It's the former home of Mr. Thompson, the American founder of the Thai Silk Company and it turns out he was also a modern-day renaissance and international man of intrigue. I didn't know much about him before visiting his museum but became fascinated by his story and the time and place, 1940's - 1960's Thailand, in which it unfolded. It's worth looking up and reading about if you aren't familiar with it. True to his extraordinary style of being nothing like the rest of us he vanished during an afternoon stroll while on vacation in Malaysia in 1967 and has never been seen or heard from since and his fate remains a confounding mystery about which conspiracy theories swirl to this day.
Upon checking out of the guest house in Bangkok I was quite pleasantly surprised to find out that I had already paid for my last 3 nights there even though I had absolutely no recollection of having done so. The manager was quite insistent that I had and even cracked open the guest house ledger to point out the entry, indelible and irrefutable, indicating that I had in fact paid up for my stay and that I might as well put an end to my feeble charade of pretending to deny it. I knew that I had not paid as even though my memory is not quite as sharp as it once was this was not something that would slip through my mental cracks. I also knew that there was no point in arguing with the resolute and sincere manager as the mighty ledger had spoken and she had staked her integrity on it and that was now far more important to her than the $45 US I owed her. I also knew I would be passing through Bangkok again upon returning from Chiang Mai and by that time the situation would likely have resolved itself and she might be more open to the idea of me reaching into my backpack and pulling out some cash and handing it to her.
Part of the former home of Jim Thompson, now a museum, reflecting his own spin on traditional Thai architecture.
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