Andy's golf clubs had been stolen from inside our yard. We suspected it was one of the saleng-men, rag-pickers who drive these modified motorcycles with big carts attached in front. They scour the neighborhoods of Bangkok looking for trash and discarded items to sell. Sometimes there are unexpected treasures... and opportunities. The golf pro had suggested to Andy that a good place to look for his stolen clubs might be the Thieves Market. This was originally posted Sunday November 12, 2006.
Dear Ones,
They say you can buy anything in Bangkok-- if you know where to look. But finding exactly what you desire is the challenge. There are innumerable nooks and crannies in the city where bargains can be had; if you have the time and the perseverance you can unearth treasures. At least that is the hope. An experience that began as a search for stolen property did not unearth many bargains but revealed glimpses of another world that co-exists with the one I know as "my" Bangkok...
The Thieves' Market is located in the older part of Bangkok behind Central Hospital in the Yaowarat or Chinatown area, in a street known as Klong Tom or Filled-in Canal. In the old days the street was a canal that had since been filled in, hence the name. The pro advised us to beware of pickpockets and purse-snatchers and to bring mag-lites because the market is only open from dusk on Saturday to dawn on Sunday. We stuffed our pockets with some cash and went to Church for the Saturday evening mass. Now that the rains are over, it promised to be a pleasant outing. The humid air was even stirred by a breeze, the promise of the cool season to come.
After mass, Andy and I parked the car at Suan Lum Night Bazaar between Rama IV and Wireless Roads. Then we took a taxi to Klong Tom. It turned out to be a neighborhood of two storey shop houses that make one street look the same as another. It's a well-known area, apparently, for we saw lots of people down there including a few curious foreigners. It's not the typical market foreigners like to frequent with the usual souvenirs and such. The market is ill-defined, being a maze of streets and side-lanes, some lighted, some not well-lighted, hence the need for a good strong flashlight. If you didn't have one or forgot to bring it, you could buy a flashlight from the vendor on the street corner. For about Baht 100 or less than US$3.00 a small flashlight comes with batteries installed plus an extra set. Thus we were prepared for our foray into the Thieves' Market. They say that one man's junk is another man's treasure.
We saw things that literally fell off the back of a truck. Indeed, we saw a row of trucks, tailgates down and their contents emptied onto the sidewalk, parked outside Bangkok Bank. The bank was closed for the weekend and the sidewalk was torn up for renovation. Undaunted, the vendors lined the sandy sidewalk next to stacks of paving stones with tarps and tables. Some surprisingly heavy items were on the sidewalks: ceramic toilets and urinals looking like new. On a table, were electric water heaters still in the box. On another table or on the tarps spread on the ground were collectibles like rusty Coca cola trays, embossed English biscuit tins, old books and magazines, costume jewelry, hurricane lamps, and an exquisitely delicate glass sconce on a chain.
The main street of the market was busy with food sellers and vendors selling just about everything salvaged elsewhere including the kitchen sink I saw a man carrying with him. There were dynamos, shoes (Was that somebody's Birkenstocks?), piles of cell phone cases, cell phones wrapped in plastic, DVD players, TV sets including a new flatscreen, and just a few tables down, TV remotes without the TV, and a completely useless UBC cable remote that wouldn't work without a cable subscription. I swear we saw our old Sony radio-cassette player for sale; anything that could be bought can be sold. The market was buoyed by an optimism that there could be a buyer--sooner or later.
In the middle of the main market were refrigerators for sale; on the sidewalk there were boxes of masking tape and cello-tape, and screwdrivers small and large, and mag-lites big enough and heavy enough to comfort a nervous security guard afraid of the dark. There were novelty items to gross out your friends, like the plastic rat in a plastic water bottle . The market was hot and crowded, so if you wanted to cool down you could order a smoothie. A motorcyclist patiently waited for his order. The seller deftly dipped into an insulated cooler of ice and scooped out just the right amount without looking.The smoothie was neatly poured into a plastic cup with a dome lid. The finishing touch: add a straw and put it into one of those ubiquitous plastic bags with loops that are just the right size to slide on the handle bars. Sip on the go.
The golf pro had told us that the good stuff is often hidden from view. We saw some golf clubs poking out from under a tarp in a side-soi. Andy asked a man sitting nearby if they were for sale; the man said, the seller isn't here. I saw a necklace of enamelled beads with a silver clasp. It was definitely Thai. I asked how much and got the same short reply, the seller isn't here. Perhaps they were wary of us. In fact, Andy said later that the clubs on display in the open were old. The good stuff was nowhere--in plain view that is. Andy contented himself with a cheap pair of leather sandals and some golf tees.
I saw another insulated cooler like the smoothie seller's. A woman was sitting next to it and fanning whatever was inside it. I peered inside and was surprised to see there was a baby instead of ice. So this was its cradle. Briefly, I met the mother's eyes and she did not smile, her eyes as wide as a cat's in the dark. She seemed young and vulnerable and at the same time, she had an unabashed look of experience that was as difficult to comprehend as it was difficult to look her in the eye. We were both women and mothers, but so many things divide us; chiefly, social class, education, and language. Where was her husband? Why did she have to bring her baby to the market? Always interested in narratives, I wondered what her story was.
Andy and I were attracted by the smell of food cooking at a cookshop two blocks away from the bank. At the corner of the street across from the cookshop, we saw two sa-lengs pulled up to the curb and a pick-up parked nearby. It was unlikely one of them was the sa-leng driver in our soi. And even if he was, I don't think I could recognize him if I saw him again. One barely notices sa-lengs and their drivers. Something on the floor-bed of the pick-up truck was covered with a tarpaulin. We did not ask. Instead, we crossed the street where we found a table inside the cookshop. I thought I wasn't hungry but the good food smell woke up my appetite. I ordered fried rice with crab and Andy ordered two bowls of noodles. With two Cokes, the whole bill came up to Baht 160 a little less than US$5.00.
An old man came into the shop carrying a heavy tin bucket over his arm. He lifted the lid to show us tiny grass cakes and fried fish balls neatly arranged inside. In a smaller bucket on his other arm he carried the sauces. Andy spoke to him in Thai but the man raised his voice in Chinese. Andy switched to Teo Chiu and the man went away. I was curious about the old man. Andy said he probably lived all his life in Chinatown and never learned Thai. Like Papa and Mama who learned enough Thai to get by, the old man was from this older generation that never needed to be proficient or literate in Thai since they worked for Chinese-owned businesses. I thought, Just as I teach in an international school and never needed to learn Thai. Some things don't change.
An air of furtive mystery hung over the bustling market. It was a place stocked with humanity looking for a bargain and to make a baht under cover of night. There was none of the conviviality I'd come to expect at other markets like Narayana Phand or at Chatuchak. There, Andy could joke with the vendors and cajole them into lowering their prices. Here at Klong Tom, this was pure business, and you'd best look sharply, peering into the dark with the aid of a mag-lite spotlight on the goods. To me, the night market at Klong Tom was a door into an underworld culture of thieves, middle-men, desperate housewives, old men with spent dreams, and hucksters on the make.
We took another taxi back uptown to where the sights were more familiar: the Thai-Belgian Friendship Bridge, Lumpini Park, and the glass and steel towers clustered around Silom, Sathorn, and Sukhumvit that comprise the business district. It was late but tourists and locals still mingled at Suan Lum Night Bazaar. Built at the intersection of two busy roads, Suan Lum was once a training school for army cadets until it was sold to a businessman who turned it into a gaudy bazaar and entertainment complex.
Here the goods were for an upscale clietele also hunting for a bargain in the humid night. There were no salvaged dynamos or toilets or sinks. Nothing fell off a truck here. Hence, there was no need for dim lighting or mag-lites. There were rattan baskets and CD cases made out of palm thatch and clever lamps made out of wood, paper, and string. In the shops here there were elegantly packaged cotton-covered cushions, embroidered shirts, and toys for a pampered pet.
Suan Lum is a little bit of Chatuchak and Narayana Phand jumbled together with bars, restaurants, and a trendy internet coffee cafe. A bit of this, a bit of that, a bit of East and West. Pastiche and synergy. Still the same optimism of that other night market though, that a buyer will walk in and part happily with his/her money.
Earlier in the evening Mercedes Benz held a car show in the concert hall. Owning a Mercedes is a fantasy for most. At Klong Tom though there were no such fantasies. Fantasies are luxuries that don't feed the family. As we walked past the darkened hall to where we had parked our car, we detected a whiff of ganja in the humid air. It smelled like defiance to me...
Walk good,
Jo Anne
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