On Monday, our second morning in Bangkok I set out from our hotel to find a watch battery, armed with instructions and something called a
. Although it says
right on the front, and it shows the Mandarin Hotel, my departure point, and the MBK Center, where I was assured there were watch batteries, there is little detail in between to help you know if the destination is in front of you or behind. What the
does do well though is, acting as a small flag, alert locals to the fact that you are a lost tourist. And so, as I checked my map, a pleasant man came across the street and asked in very good English, "Can I help you?"
I told him that I was looking for the MBK Center. He asked me what I needed there, and I told him about my watch battery.
"The MBK Center is closed this morning. It is the Buddha's day." Then, "You might be able to find one at the Thailand Center. They are open today."
I asked for instructions, and after explaining in a way that I figured I could expand on as I got closer, the man offered to set me up with a tuk tuk (three wheeled motorcycle taxi) who would get me there. I explained that I would rather walk, that I was in no hurry.
"You have to be careful. There are many people here who will take advantage of foreigners. I am a policeman and I see it all the time. I will fix it with the driver so that it will only cost you 10 boht."
Ten boht, Thailand's currency, is roughly thirty cents.
I climbed in, and in a few minutes pulled through some old iron gates, past half a dozen expensive black cars, and up to a few steps that led to a thick door where two women greeted me. It was not what I was expecting.
The women asked what they could do for me. I pointed to my watch, its frozen second hand, and explained that I was told that I could get a battery there. They looked at each other as though nobody had ever asked them anything like that before, then a shrug of their shoulders and smiles that said, "I don't know, let's find out!"
Through the door behind them were rows and rows of cubicles, glass between each just low enough to see workers wearing magnifying glasses, each with an adjustable lamp. The women led me through the front of the room, along glassed shelves that displayed uncut rubies, sapphires, diamonds, then through another door where we were met by another woman, older than the first two. Again, "What can we do for you?" she asked, smiling. Again, I pointed to my watch, holding it up so she could see.
Glancing deliberately at each of the first two women, she then explained that no, they did not sell batteries. Behind her was an entire showroom full of jewelry, very expensive, and none that required batteries. "You can probably get a battery at MBK Center. It is very close to here."
I explained that I was told it was closed because of the Buddha's day. "Who told you that?" she asked. "Thai people have to make a living. We are open every day!" I was also starting to piece together some of the various ways that some Thai people make a living. "Is there anything else you would like?" she wondered. I asked if she would mind if I took a picture, to which all three women replied by slowly shaking their heads from side to side while still smiling. Had to ask.
Outside, the tuk tuk driver had not left yet. He was surprised to see me so soon, perhaps expecting, as the ladies inside had hoped, that I would be buying something nice for the madame. I explained that the story about the Buddha holiday was not true, and that it would be nice if he would take me to the MBK Center. With a sheepish look, he offered to take me there for free, but pulled over and stopped after one block. He turned around in his seat and said, "I wonder if you would do me a favor. I have a wife and children and it would help us if you would go to a store and look at some clothes. It is on the way." Armed with my recent experience, I asked if he got money for taking me there.
"I get a coupon. For a liter."
"A liter? A liter of what?" I asked. He seemed sober.
"A liter of petrol. Gasoline." Of course. Without gasoline, how would he find customers for the clothing store.
"What does a liter of gasoline cost?"
"Thirty boht." About a dollar.
"I don't need any clothes. Do I need to buy clothes for you to get a coupon?"
"You do not need to buy clothes. I will take you there?"
"And then to MBK Center? For free?"
"Yes."
Certain that I was just helping out, off we went. At the next street, we didn't turn in the direction I expected, but wound in and out of traffic and through small alleys until, back on a two lane street, slowing in front of a store with dapper mannequins in the window, making a u-turn, we stopped at the curb in front of
Royal Boss Tailors. (We Americans often use
royal in a phrase used to describe a certain kind of boss, so it doesn't quite sound right as a store name.) The driver escorted me to the door and held it open as he made eye contact with someone inside, then told me that he would wait outside and smoke a cigarette.
Inside, I was confident that I would get in and get out, just enough to save some gas money for the driver's wife and kids, but I was no match. I put up a good fight. I explained that I didn't need any clothes, that I didn't wear a suit to work, and that nothing I thought of as fun required one. No, it is too early for beer, but cold water would be nice. Yes, I might be going to funerals, but the people I would be most likely to wear a black suit for were already dead. Yes, I will look at the fabric, and yes it is very nice. Yes, you do have many colors and patterns to choose from, but no, there are not so many as you think that I would get caught wearing. There were a few though, an acknowledgement that I was ready for the coup de grace. "Have you ever owned a shirt that really fit you?" a man named Rom asked. I struggled a little more as he measured me, pointing out that I didn't want my shirt to fit like his, puckering at every button. He smiled. "We will make them comfortable." Two long sleeve, one short.
Outside, the driver was still waiting to take me to the MBK Center. A few minutes and a few turns later, he stopped—right across the street from where he had picked me up. "This is the MBK Center," he announced, pointing to the building I had been standing in front of as I checked my walking map earlier that morning.
Less... 
