Having heard only raving reviews of Thai street food, Katy, Caitlin, Connie and I took to Khaosan road to see what we could find.
Amongst the numerous vendors competitively selling Pad Thai for around 30 baht (60p), there were stalls offering everything from fresh fruit, whole deep-fried scorpions and various noodle dishes. We eventually settled on a falafel stand, what with Caitlin being veggie, which turned out to be the best decision of the night. Instead of falafel, we were served what can only be described as deep fried balls of houmous, packed tightly into a soft flat bread-pitta hybrid, doused in tahini sauce.
Having inhaled my dinner, we looked instead to cocktails. Two piña coladas later and the red cheeks were out in full force *.
In the second bar, we befriended two British guys who met whilst travelling having both abandoned the respective groups of friends that they set off with. Zac had us all in complete awe of his tales of Vietnam, so much so that I endeavour to spend two weeks there once my teaching has finished and before Kim and Ben arrive.
At first I thought this deserved it’s own blog post, but refrained after learning how much offence it causes in Thailand to be wrongly labelled as such, and for the worldwide transgender community.
None the less, at risk of being politically incorrect, I couldn’t let it go unblogged. All I can say is, apart from the obvious and from their voice, you would never know. Ever. The most stunning person walks past and then you hear them speak. Nothing could refrain my jaw from being locked wide open as we watched two ‘lady boys’ hang their handbags around the neck of an outrageously drunk Westerner and vigorously lap dance him in the middle of the bar.
Once we’d picked our jaws off the floor, Zac and Brian took us to a club, imaginatively named ‘The Club’, promising even more bizarre sights. Entry was a mere 100baht (£2) which also included a drink. Having already thrown up in a back alley toilet, my fourteen year old self came out in full force and chose a mixed berry flavoured Bacardi Breezer, with the only other option being Chang beer. As expected, ‘The Club’ was gross and grotty, but an experience to say the least. Somebody projectile vomited onto the dancefloor, and people unassumingly danced through it in their flip flops.
Ala Katy B, we left after the lights turned on, singing Nelly as we entered the hotel lift eager to jump in the shower and rid ourselves of the sweat and grime of Khaosan road.