Never mind the air, smell the excitement in Bangkok

The dog whines, the cat mews. It’s 5.45 am. They are wondering why I am skulking out of my door like a thief.

A friend, who is as sweet as she is crazy, has offered me a lift to the airport. There is no denying her the pleasure of driving me to Changi at this ungodly hour.

She tells me she loves this time of the day – the dawn of a brand new day when the air is still sweet with sleep and the trees heavy with dreams.

I am different. Each time I do this – catch an early morning flight – I swear I will never do it again. You seldom catch a good night’s sleep because you fear if you sleep too deep, you’ll sleep through the three alarms you’ve set and miss the flight.

But a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do and I have to make it for an 11am meeting in Bangkok and I didn’t want to spend more time away from home than I have to.

It’s one of those zip-in and zip-out trips – “One night in Bangkok and the world’s your oyster”, as the song from the Chess musical goes.

6am, I am at the airport. 6.05, I am all checked in. In the queues, I see at least two friends – they are headed to Ho Chi Minh. 6.10, I am having a cup of strong, local coffee and peanut butter and kaya toast.

And each time I do this, I am amazed at how much life there is at an airport at this hour. At the next table is a group of policemen who’ve just come off work.

The rest are travellers criss-crossing and heading somewhere on the planet.

Poor Earth. Even it is working overtime like its earthlings. We truly live in a 24×7 world where mankind, it has been recorded, is getting less sleep than ever before.

I catch up on my sleep on the Jetstar flight. Not only is the fare good – S$209 for a return – but the schedule’s perfect if you want a full day in Bangkok. It’s half empty, I get a row to myself, the crew’s friendly – what more do you want from a two-hour flight?

It’s when you land in Bangkok that the day starts to get a bit rocky. The roads are jammed with traffic. It’s past 9am – in most cities, the rush hour would be over – but in this city, every hour is rush hour.

It takes me an hour to get to the Imperial Queen’s Park. The hotel, as is the entire city, is full, packed with conventions, I am told. All 1,250 rooms at the IQP are sold – half of them to Lilly China, whose delegates swarm the hotel.

General manager Claude Scheffer has kindly given me his personal spare room. I like the décor – modern, tasteful Asian, incense sticks, handicrafts, a beautiful black-and-white photograph of a smiling Thai girl – it feels like home.

I hop into a taxi to get to my appointment. When he drops me off, I give him 100 baht for a 53 baht trip. “You no change?” he whines. I said no. “I no have,” he says. “I no have too,” I say. He shakes his head, looks away and just waits.

He’s pulling the oldest taxi trick in the world. He knows I am in a hurry. He hasn’t dropped me off at a hotel where he knows I could have gotten change. And it upsets me that he knows I know that. And it upsets me even more that he knows he will win.

Fuming – don’t you hate being ripped off – I give him what he wants and I dash off to do what I need to do.

The day passes by in a blur. Bangkok’s not the easiest place to get around and do business – but the Skytrain has alleviated the problems. If you do not mind the heat, crowds and noise and walking on broken pavements, it’s your best option. I consider this all part of the Bangkok experience.

I actually enjoy the chaos and commotion. It’s a welcome change from the order and cleanliness of Singapore. When I travel with my Singaporean friends, I notice they are obsessed with cleaning things up and upgrading them.

“Why don’t they clean that up?” Or “why don’t they develop that?

” Living on a small island, they are used to every space being used, cleaned and organised.

Bangkok can afford to sprawl and be messy, like a woman comfortable in her overflowing caftan.

Besides, I have the evening at leisure to look forward to. I love the Sukhumvit area where every soi has a surprise. Having had a wonderful Thai lunch, I am happy to go Italian. I am taken to a little Italian place called Napoli.

Here, the owner serves you himself and his girls remind you of those good old days in Bangkok when the smiles were genuine and the service sincere.

The Venetian pizza is a whimsical rendition of a bridge in Venice – the chef uses two breadsticks to prop up layers of Parma ham.
As good to look at as it is to eat. The spaghetti vongole comes in a claypot, covered with a thin pastry top. When the girl peels off the top the aroma of clams, chillies, garlic bursts through.

The owner brings us grappa to finish off the meal.

Just down the road is Titanium, a bar featuring an all-girl band advertised as “the best band in Bangkok”. I expected girls in short skirts, dancing to synchronized movements.

What I got was a refreshing surprise. It’s six girlfriends from university who’ve obviously decided to do what they love best, which is play music. It’s indie, girl pop and chick angst all rolled into a band called Unicorn.

The band leader looks like she’s hardly old enough to know the Beatles but does a sweet, soulful rendition of “Here, There & Everywhere.”

I looked here, there and everywhere round the bar. There’s a handful of customers, mostly expatriates and tourists. A group of Chinese tourists walk in, look around and walk out. While there are hostesses in the bar, this is not the kind of place I think they are looking for.

Upstairs is an ice bar. I last eight minutes. I am heading to Europe, and there I can experience the real thing.

Besides I prefer the warm, steamy air of Bangkok. That night I dreamt of Venice, unicorns and John Lennon. “One night in Bangkok and the world’s your oyster.”

Catch more of Yeoh Siew Hoon every week at The Transit Cafe