Disoriented and swaggering with jetlag, I went in search of a guidebook. Asia Books located in Siam City mall sounded good to me, so I hopped in a cab, said 'Siam' to the taxi driver ten times, varying the pronunciation each time until he repeated it back to me and we were off.
Minutes later I was deposited into the air conditioned, sparkling beauty of a five-story shopping mall monstrosity. If people in Bangkok know how to do anything, they know how to shop.
The malls here are not the bland two or three story building wings of stores off of a single food court. Malls here are an experience, an organic creation that keeps growing and being added onto so it seems that it is never done, or at least it feels that way when you are navigating through the zig-zags of brightly lit boutiques, never happening upon the same store and never knowing exactly where you're going or where you've been. The malls are sometimes connected with footbridges that cross city roads, and at the ground level, the malls are surrounded aisles and aisles of market stalls packed with clothes, belts, jeans, food, shoes. And around the market stalls are food vendors frying up sordid creations pungent with ginger and charcoal smells.
Two hours, three guidebooks and one $10 skirt later, I stumbled back outside onto the steps in front of the McDonalds. Crowds of kids, mostly in white button down shirts and black skirts or slacks milled around on the steps, some waiting for a bus and all watching a hip hop video blaring from two monitors attached to a telephone poll. All around us was traffic. The intersection swarmed with busses, skytrain, cabs, motorcycles, tuk tuks and every diesel propelled vehicle ever made. Up above, the skytrain and elevated highways screamed. And all around, the mall threw an eery glow over the whole scene. I hailed another cab and found my way back to the hotel.
I crawled into bed cradling my new Bangkok guidebook, read two pages and fell fast asleep.
