First day--khosan road

Here's an excerpt from my journal, written on a warm night in Bangkok, Thailand.

Today it is rainy. The time, according to a Thai clock--16:20. Joel and I have shoved off the sparkling sea of Osaka, shook the brown dust of Korea back on the road, and sit now in Thailand, "The land of smiles," where shiny brown men and women ply an innumerable number of trades and professions, most of them involving selling something or scamming someone. Oddly enough, the oddest thing about Thailand is the distinct lack of Thai people, at least in many of the areas we've been in. Backpackers infest this area like scruffy rodents, coming in every shape, size, race, age and color. They crowded our bus from the airport, Nihon-jin behind us, Australians in front. The Australians actually led us to a hotel the first night, though they weren't aware of it. We followed them as they bolted from our air-conditioned bus, darted left and across the street, and raced to the Sawadee guest house. We managed to secure a doublem which meant a fan, a balcony, and a really big bed--for the two of us. The bed and room were a relief after enduring a sleepless night in Osaka (for J anyway), slashing rain, rude Thai stewardesses who refused to fill drinks, and a cold that almost prevented me from packing, though it wouldn't have stopped me from going.

We wandered around Khosan Road, "backpackers mecca" and it was possible to feel the energy rippling through the place. Sidewalk vendors peddled all sorts of weird goods, from silk flowers to shruikens. Thai women with portable speakers wandered up and down the street, singing songs and shaking money cans. We sat at a restaurant, ordered drinks, and found ourselves drinking out of a coconut and cold bottle. . .