Gretchen's Blog

Made it to Bangkok, whew, what a long set of plane rides. The 10+ hour flight from San Francisco to Tokyo was numbing. Just as we were landing in Bangkok, the lady sitting next to me (a lawyer for the Federal Government) and I were filling out our immigration cards. There was a blank for a Visa number. I asked her, “What Visa number?” She showed me her very official passport with a special piece of paper glued in for Thailand. I thought “great” I must have missed the Visa part of my trip preparation. Visions of a long trip back and tears started to pop into my mind.

I got to the immigration line and handed the officer my passport. She didn’t ask any questions (whew) and stamped my passport with a Visa stamp (go figure.) Thank God….I can’t believe I made it through. Since I’m not “working,” I don’t need a special visa, mine is considered to be an “educational” trip. Wink wink.

While waiting for my baggage, I decided to get some cash from an ATM to get started. I chose 200, thinking I was requesting dollars but it ended up Bahts, the Thai currency. I checked the board to figure out how much that was …. Not quite $6.00. WTF, why would an ATM give out only $6? Next time, I selected 10,000B, almost $300., much better. The currencies are so different; it almost feels like Monopoly money.

The hotel had a car waiting for me but I guess they thought the name Gretchen was a man, so they were looking for a man and I was looking for their sign. We finally hooked up and the drive was relatively short on the expressway. The hotel has high security, they check underneath the car for bombs and I had to go through a screener to get inside. The clerk told me since 911 security has been tight because this particular hotel has a lot of Americans staying at it and it is close to a lot of different embassies.

I got up the first day about noon Bangkok time on Thursday or about 10 PM Wednesday California time.

What are my first impressions of Bangkok? The hotel is very rich; the town is a mixture of “average” people mixed in with many very poor people. You get the feeling that everyone wants money from you. I feel the pressure of "How much should I tip?” “Is it not enough or is it too much?” “Did I tip the driver an appropriate amount to the baggage guy?” “Should I give money to the people on the street?” “Does it make me the object for more money giving?” Agggh. It makes me feel bad that I am staying in a nice hotel and people are living in shacks right outside. No sewers, tin houses, trees growing up in the middle of their houses.