My First Trip to Bangkok, Thailand - Soi Cowboy

Soi Cowboy by Night
Soi Cowboy by Day










The bar I chose could have been any one of the dozens of bars that line Bangkok’s Soi Cowboy on both sides. The “soi”, or “street” in English, is only around 100 yards in length, and at first glance, one would hardly call it a street. It’s really only wide enough for one lane of motorized traffic. I guess you could say that Soi Cowboy is part sidewalk, part avenue, part alleyway. It serves pedestrians, automobiles, motor scooters, and even commercial vehicles, the latter of which, if I’d not seen them on the soi with my own eyes, I’d never have believed could possibly navigate the narrow lane.

Soi Cowboy is just one of the many “entertainment districts” that pepper the Sukhumvit area of Bangkok. It takes its name from a retired American military man who opened one of the first bars there during the Vietnam War. He was nicknamed “Cowboy” because he always wore a cowboy hat. Soldiers on R&R often came to Bangkok to drink, party, and procure the services of prostitutes, and many of them ended up in this area. Subsequently, more bars, restaurants, and brothels opened for business, and soon, the entire street was catering to servicemen. Now, it caters mainly to tourists and expatriates, as word-of-mouth has made this street one of the more famous sois in all of Bangkok.

Jutting out into the middle of Soi Cowboy are food stands; mobile barbeque grills bolted to the backs of trailers, the handlebars of bicycles, or just plopped down wherever space can be found; coolers filled with iced sodas and water; and chairs upon which, exotic-looking, young Thai women are perched. These women might be waitresses, massage practitioners, prostitutes, or hostesses, and it’s not always easy to tell who is who, even after the benefit of a short conversation. They are all selling something, be it food, drink, a relaxing back rub, or in many cases, even themselves.

Much of the foot- and wheel-traffic mostly just lingers. It is impossible to walk the length of Soi Cowboy in a straight line and at a constant rate of speed. No single mode of transportation has right-of-way over any other…well…except the many stray dogs…they are definitely lowest in rank. They basically spend their time avoiding being stepped on or being hit by vehicles. And it’s not like the vehicles attempt to avoid them. No…it’s pretty much up to the dogs to move out of the way. But often, they don’t, and they are missed by narrow margins, as close as just a few inches, in which case, the dogs just lie there. It’s only when they are threatened with certain, and I mean IMMINENT danger, that these scrawny creatures dart to safety. Apparently a couple of inches doesn’t qualify as being in real peril. It must work out for them okay though. I didn’t see a single dog that appeared to be limping.

At least some attempt is made…sort of…to avoid hitting pedestrians. Thankfully, the speeds are slow enough that reaction times, on both parts, usually prevent the impact of metal against flesh. In dodging one such impending collision, I find myself on a raised step, a couple of feet away from the entrance of a bar, which may as well remain nameless, for if it has a name, I see no way of deciphering it from the jumble of Thai script and English words that make up the various advertisements and hastily prepared chalkboard menus that crowd the area in which I am standing.

A pretty, young Thai girl apparently ascertains that my adjacency to this particular establishment must mean that I’d like to enter it, and so she locks her arm with mine, spinning me toward the entrance, which is framed in brightly colored, helium-filled balloons. Our momentum propels me over the threshold, and a frigid, air-conditioned blast washes over me and jostles the balloons, as she pulls me past a small grill, where satay chicken and whole fish sizzle. I notice a large cooler filled with ice and Singha, Tiger, and Chang beer, as the young lady directs me inside, cooing, “Welcome! Welcome!”, repeatedly.

A winding staircase leads from a small bar area on the street level, to a billiards room on a balcony on the second floor. As I look around, it is apparent to me, that the original owner of the building and the architect who’d designed it, must have entered into some sort of compromise years ago, when the place was built. Yes…it was a building, but barely so, because much of it is open to the sky, the street, and the environment. It almost seems to be transient, as if it was built with the idea in mind that it could be disassembled quickly and moved, if and when such action were ever necessary. Evidently the negotiation had ended in concessions being made by both owner and architect. The result of the bargain was this bipolar structure I was now standing in.

There is no front door. But clearly there is an entrance…just not a well-defined one. It is as if somehow, the street melts into the property and the property bleeds into the street. But unlike most crossbred structures, this one feels cozy and comfortable. In the daylight, the place has a lazy, languid grace to it, despite its turbulent, chaotic surroundings. At night, a few hours from now, I’m sure it will look bejeweled, with hundreds of neon lights encircling it and radiating from within it.

Upon entering, my mind feels like it is on sensory overload. My new acquaintance seats me at a table and I make a conscious effort to rapidly decompress. Jet-lagged, after a 20-hour trip from Denver that included connections in Seattle and Tokyo, running on fumes really, the only thing keeping me awake is an acute awareness and exhilaration that I think is inevitable when you find yourself halfway around the world from your home, in a country where you don’t speak the native language, where nothing at all is familiar, and where people’s mannerisms and characteristics are so different from yours. It feels like an adventure. So much is happening. I’m weary, yet I’m wide awake.

My senses are bombarded…with busy, hectic movement all around my vision’s periphery…with the succulent smells of roasting meats on the grills…with the cacophony of various types of music drowning each other out and of giggling girls joking with each other. There’s always a lot going on, just about anywhere you go in Bangkok. And everywhere you go, whichever of your senses are being incited, there seems to be multiple stimuli competing for your attention. This is my first full day in Thailand, and therefore, I’m a little on edge anyway, and very aware and sensitive to all that’s going on around me. Everything is new to me and I don’t want to miss a thing! It is overwhelming. You almost have to take a deep breath, just to quell the excitement of it all. There is just so much to see. So much to notice. Sights. Sounds. Smells.

And those smells of Bangkok will assault you. Bangkok is not a clean city. But it isn’t in complete squalor either. There is the occasional pungent, underlying odor of grime and filth that can overpower you at times; but then the wind shifts, and you find yourself inhaling the wonderfully fragrant aromas of the orchids, lilies, and jasmine that thrive in the many courtyards and gardens—sanctuaries of tranquility created by the residents to combat Bangkok’s notorious congestion, it’s clamoring racket, and its confusing mazes of concrete, steel, and asphalt. Or, in the next instant, you turn your head and notice the scent of sandalwood or lavender incense being burned nearby as part of a Buddhist prayer offering.

My mind is now swampy…my thoughts, muddy. I pause and savor the redolent air, and both the astringent odors and the sweeter, more pleasant smells help to clear my head just a bit. But ultimately, clarity proves to be unattainable, and as that fact dawns on me, it’s probably a little undesirable anyway. I mean, who really requires clarity when they’re vacationing? It occurs to me that I am in need of a cold beer and a shot of tequila.

The girl that dragged me into this place is back at the entrance doing what a hostess does. As I rest there in my seat, two butterflies in human form dance fluidly from the shadow of the staircase in the back of the bar and out into the sunshine that filters through the entryway. As these two bar girls approach my table, their silken skirts flare and fold and flare again in graceful swirls of color. In broken English one of them asks me if I want something to drink. I order a Singha beer and a shot of Cuervo. She disappears swiftly into the shadows from which she’s come, while the remaining beauty presents a cold, damp towel, and begins wiping my brow, face, neck, arms, and hands with it. This brings instant relief from the heat and humidity of the Bangkok afternoon.

She asks me where I’m from, whether or not I have a girlfriend, and other getting-to-know-you-type questions and steps behind my chair. She begins massaging my temples, then my neck, and finally, my shoulders. The other enchantress arrives carrying a tray, upon which sit the most minuscule shot of tequila I've ever seen, a profusely sweating bottle of beer, and an ice-cold glass. She pours half of the beer into the glass, sets everything down on the table, and then sits in the chair next to me.

These being the first Thai women that I’ve had a chance to really talk to, I have many questions for them. Since I speak no Thai whatsoever, and their English is pretty basic, and stilted at that, and their pronunciation pretty hard to understand, it is sometimes very difficult, but nonetheless, interesting and fun. They explain to me that they earn a percentage of every drink that is bought for them, so I buy them each a few cokes over the next hour or so, which they sip slowly, keeping pace with me and my beer. They never finish a coke before I finish my beer and if they ask for another, they do so in an extremely polite manner.

I learn that it is their job to spend time talking with the customers, and as I get to know them, one of them begins to unintentionally sweep me off my feet. She really piques my curiosity, with her stories about the reality of her rural life before coming to Bangkok…the responsibilities and hardships involved…and her descriptions of the things that are important in life to her, and to a Thai woman, in general. And of course, there is her absolutely pure beauty—which is a combination of her arresting, and to me, unfamiliar facial characteristics; her genuine sincerity, sraightforwardness, and outgoing nature; and her matter-of-fact inquisitiveness about myself and my country. I have soon found myself completely captivated and enthralled by her.

It is refreshing to be in the company of someone who is so frank, charming, and lovely. I am somehow able to see through many of the misconceptions Westerners have about Thai women and am even able to delve, somewhat, into the psyche of a typical, traditional, Thai village girl who has left the countryside to settle in this big city. My new friend attempts to explain the differences in Thai attitudes and culture to this naïve American, and it is quite educational. I find that there is a definite, pronounced gap between Thai traditions and customs and my own Western mentality, and I hope to somehow bridge this gap over the next three weeks.

Throughout our conversation, I sometimes flirt with she and my other hostess. Of course I do. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t. And they do flirt back, but the ways in which a Thai woman flirts are very different from the ways in which an American woman would.

For instance, these two are fascinated with the soft, light hair on my arms. (Thai men rarely have body hair). It's a challenge trying to get used to their slender fingers combing through it. Now, by American standards I am not a very hairy guy. So it had never occurred to me that I would ever have two women gently tugging at my arm hair, telling me that I am “like monkey”. And had I ever imagined myself being told that I was "like monkey", I never would have dreamed that along with such a comment, would come assurances that it should be taken as a compliment.

Sincerity and honesty is very important in Thai society. Thais believe that the window to one’s soul is through one’s eyes. Therefore, Thais look people squarely in the eyes when they talk. They believe that if you are being untruthful, your eyes will give you away. More than once, as I struggle to answer a question and by force of habit, look around aimlessly, my new Thai friend gently nudges my chin with her fingers back in the direction of her expressive face, so that she can see into my eyes as I answer. It is strange to have someone scrutinize you in this way, but just as I am sure that she would be able to detect deceit in my eyes, I see the acceptance in hers that she feels that what I say is true.

I learn that to the Thais, we Americans smell like butter, and that this is an attractive scent. Our diets are so different. I guess what—do we eat fattier foods? It is somewhat unnerving, but not at all unenjoyable, to have a beautiful Thai girl place her nose in your neck or against your shoulder and sniff you, then smile and nod her head approvingly.

But I also learn that outside of a bar such as this, where it is part of their job to be in close, physical proximity to the customers, traditional Thai girls would avoid such public familiarity with a white man, lest she be mistaken for a prostitute by other Thais. Even if a Thai man and a Thai woman are in a committed relationship, intimate contact between them in public is frowned upon. Nevertheless, I can’t help but imagine how heads back home would turn if I were seen walking down the street, holding hands with either of these two delicate, dazzling, sirens.

But I have come to realize that it is so much more than typical young Thai women's exquisite figures, their flawless skin, and their impeccable physiques. There is something fascinating about their engaging smiles. I have come to realize that the inviting Thai smile is truly a very happy one, and that the average Thai girl is more content at heart than the average “farang”, or foreigner, that comes to visit Thailand. I’m so impressed with their genial nature, their cordiality, and their friendly demeanor. They are outgoing and funny, but are at the same time, modest and reserved. They are kind-hearted and interesting…open and talkative. I can sense a natural, unfeigned esteem and respect coming from them, not just toward me, for my benefit, but emanating from them, unprejudiced and nondiscriminatory, for anyone they meet.

My God, if these women are representative of the Thai women I will meet over the next three weeks, then the overdone little jokes my friends and relatives made before I left, about me coming home with a Thai wife, are not going to seem so funny any more.

See my Thailand photos at:

www.flickr.com/photos/zatarain