Melting, melting, meltingThailand
Melting, melting, melting Thailand.
Palm trees stood like exclamation marks along the highway, and the twinkling windows of skyscrapers rushing past the glass of the taxi seemed to emphasize the unfamiliarity of the landscape. The engine hummed comfortably, the taxi leaning slightly on corners, masterfully avoiding small obstacles and sliding along a deserted highway drove into Bangkok. For a whole month, preparing for the trip, rummaging through the Internet, Askar managed to spell this name correctly only twice. All the time, the extra letters g interfered, which seemed to be inserted by themselves now at one end of the word, then at the other.
When he and his wife entered the airport's landing hall in Tashkent, they were a little taken aback by the crowd of loud-voiced and unceremonious, either Arabs or Greeks, who, in addition, later turned out to be Israelis. Later, he remembered that he had indeed been told more than once that the Israelis buy all flights through Tashkent and that is why it is so difficult for Uzbeks themselves to buy a ticket. And what, thank God, in the only Uzbek airline "Uzbekistan Havo Yullari" on international flights there are only 767 Boeings and A-300 Airbuses. And in terms of safety, the Uzbek company left many leading airlines far behind - from 1991 to 2013, only one small AN-24 aircraft, and then on a domestic flight, crashed. And this is against the backdrop of constant reports of crashes in other countries, over these 22 years there have been just a damn lot of them. That's what a company means - the property of the state. But planes from Tashkent, the main crossroads of Central Asia, fly around the world, something like 300.000 takeoffs and landings over the years on international flights.
Right before the flight, in the waiting room, his pressure suddenly rose, his wife, trying to hide her alarm, measured with a tanometer and gave him medicine. Well, all right, he had been waiting for this rest for half a year and did not intend to give up the flight, especially since the medicines helped, and in the cabin he added wine and the flight went smoothly. Quietly, except for the Israelis, who filled almost the entire salon and continuously wandered around the cabin in groups. They clamored, paying no attention to anyone, shouting from end to end, and almost sat on the floor with their legs crossed or tucked under them. Why did he take them for Arabs, now they were more like a gypsy camp. True, many of the guys were shaved like a beaver and had tattoos on their bare backs, which of course distinguished them from the gypsies.
Well, all good things come to an end and the plane has landed at the dark night airport in Bangkok. Following instructions from the Internet, he and his wife found a smoking area - a small glass aquarium where a couple of Japanese were sitting in puffs of smoke. Looking at the imprisoned smokers, Askar thought that in such a concentration of smoke and, apparently, the air conditioner was turned off on purpose, the airport authorities were seeking a final solution to the "tobacco issue" through the rapid death of smokers. Behind him, beeping like the first Soviet satellite, a long car drove by, with a team of mechanics and cleaners, who, apparently, were no longer able to go around the huge building on foot. Mops stood like masts and this cruiser "Varyag", as if in some kind of crazy dream, drove them along the boiling waves of the human sea, recalling the futility of the consciousness's attempts to embrace that sea of impressions and pictures of life, which was this many-square-kilometer monster - airport.
Then, not so easy, we found a queue at passport control, and after standing in it, we found out that the registration of an entry visa for 30 days was in another aisle. Yes, it is visible not all consultations have understood up to the end. Finally, everything was formalized, a visa was received, and at the exit from the airport, having hardly disassembled the English customs officer, they said that there was nothing to show and went beyond the border line. Immediately behind the first counter from the exit, a tall, thin Thai woman, squinting at his hands, offered a taxi to the hotel three times more expensive than the price indicated on the Internet, but Askar, faithful to the instructions, found out where the Public taxi was, as it turned out, for this you need to go outside. Despite the night, the street smelled of unconditioned heat and the gasy stench of cars and buses arriving and departing. This first step beyond the airport barrier is like a step beyond the known horizon. Askar remembered what this feeling was like in all the countries where he had been over the years. You always plunge into the undistilled atmosphere of real life and think: oh, this is how they live here. The service is over, the real world of these people and this country begins.
A public taxi took them to the hotel for a very reasonable price. Mister IT from big money notes! They found a hotel on the Internet for $ 50, although a three-star one, but with a swimming pool, a restaurant, a bar and a beautiful large hall. Class, in the pool, additionally equipped with a small jacuzzi area, except for them no one went, beautiful, with sunbeds and umbrellas, a pack of towels and all framed by ficuses, palm trees, some tropical plants. The restaurant is quite decent, the interior is in a modern style and a large selection of dishes for breakfast is included in the room price. Well, even if there is only one roast and sausages from meat dishes, but a large selection of salads, baked goods, melons and watermelons, four types of soups, cereals and muesli with milk and more. The rooms were really so-so: either with a good view from the window, but terrible noise from the highway at night, or quiet, but with a window into the well. The furniture is old. But climate change, all the same, flew away in January and immediately burned summer from winter, and the time zone - a difference of three hours, did their job and for the first 2-3 days they slept like the dead, capturing not only the night, but also a couple of hours during the day. Therefore, they did not even notice what the numbers were. The street on which the hotel stood was located in the center, there were several mansions of embassies on it, which did not exclude heaps of garbage on the sidewalks, dirty black smudges on the paving stones and some kind of shabby fences with khirlovkas - taverns behind them, where poor people apparently dined. At the same time, all this was adjacent to quite decent hotels, shops, restaurants. In Tashkent, the administration would have forced ten times to remake the entire landscape, after all, this is the main street.
They booked two days through Booking, as if for a test, but when they decided to extend it for a couple more days upon arrival, it turned out that the room costs $ 80 directly without the Internet, though also with breakfast, and Booking did not have a reservation for this hotel day - to day. I had to pay $ 80 one day and immediately book the next day for $ 50. At the reception - the original for them is a ladyboy, that is, a transvestite. Coquettishly playing with intonations, he said goodbye to two lively girls from America: goodba-a-ay! (Contra-and-vny. )
On the second day, while Askar was sitting in the hall with his netbook and looking through the glass door at his wife bathing in the pool, they met a young bearded psychotherapist from America, the age of his eldest son, who, like this American, lived in Los Angeles. Angeles. This is a little world! - the guy spoke as if rolling pebbles in his mouth. With difficulty, mobilizing his English and gestures, his wife and Askar surprisingly talked to him for two hours. The poor psycholist said that he had been living in a hotel for five days already and there was no one for him to talk to - no one knew English. Smiled.
On the first day we decided to try Thai cuisine. Moving along a dirty avenue, stretching between two walls of skyscrapers, we went into restaurants, but that's not it. Either an Arabic restaurant, or a McDonald's, or a nightclub. Finally, around the corner we saw some kind of Thai street cafe in which something was fried and cooked in boilers right in front of the visitors. It was reassuring that there were several German and apparently English companies sitting there, some with small children and enthusiastically absorbing fish, salads and something else from some trays - whatnots. We decided to stop there. Sat down ordered and began to look closely. Mom dear! Wooden tables with a dirty coating, from somewhere pulls a smell of rot - they saw a clogged garbage container 3 meters from their table. The wife went to wash her hands - she was invited to the kitchen and offered water in a plastic eggplant, and it would drain from her hands right onto the floor. Apparently there is no sewer. With fear, they drank only cola and from the neck of the bottle. They ate only what was taken directly from the brazier and quickly washed off. And the Germans sit, chew, laugh. All the same, the sanitary and epidemiological station is the right institution in our countries and not known in Thailand.