In a world were everyone refers to you as “excuse me ma’am” it’s often difficult not to just to keep walking until you have a name. So that’s what we did, right into the spa. Lemongrass, orange peel, rose and herbs lingered in the air as our shoes were replaced with slippers. Tropical plants and candles seemed to pop out from the Zen poster that was our private room. I felt like kid on Christmas day about to receive something I had been begging for. On the surface, there was no way to tell that we were half way up in a major high rise in the middle of a Land of Smiles. Our feet were scrubbed from antique bowls and our robes were removed as we went into the steam room. With our bodies warmed through, we reentered into the world of royalty. Firm hands made their way from toe to crown, with attention to every muscle. The excess oil was washed away, and the angels with the dancing hands quietly vanished into their quarters. Two hours had passed since I had last looked at the time, but I didn’t care. Here I was dropped in a state of euphoria with the love of my life only thinking about how nice it was to finally relax.
Yesterday, Yo, our guide, had recommended to go downtown and visit the major shopping center. So we made our way to the sky train, but not before trying the roasted plantains I was still thinking about. Then the foul smelling durian fruit that had come with high recommendation and equal warning. In a land so foreign, everything in the mall seemed so familiar. With T-shirts of every color and style, cheap knock offs of fine European products and electronics farther than the eyes could see; it all became a blur. As this is our only day to experience Bangkok as a city, the tuk tuks, neon taxis and the Thai Baht cycloned around us with an unreal force. We found Jim Thompson's House of Silks just in time for the last English tour; and a gentle soul to drive us "home" during rush hour traffic for less money than it was worth. Of course our hotel was not the only stop, first were had to stop at a gem factory and then a silk shop so the driver could make an attempt at his commission from the locals. No time to rest, back off to the pool as the humid sun laid it self to rest on the western horizon. Wet just long enough to say we visited the pool in our hotel at least once, it was time to go again. The Night Bazaar was calling out our names and to our money, and into the fuchsia taxi we went.