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Saturday Night Slam

Trip To The Far East

I need to take just a moment to thank the many people that once again wrote to me this past week about my health issues. It certainly is comforting to know that I have so many friends.

Dr. David Ring gave the best medical opinion to me ...

I will be undergoing a cat scan this coming Sunday to determine what kinds of surgery needs to be done to correct my problem. I will keep everyone posted of any changes--Percival

This column, we are blessed to have former manager of the Original Sheik, Dave Drason Burzynski, to write of some of his experience in travels to the Far East. This is one of a series of stories that will be told in the next few weeks.

It started off like so many others, with a series of extra long flights. Our first, Detroit to San Francisco, provided us with spending the whole day in San Fran before our next flight at 1a.m. the following day. A short rental car ride across the Bay Bridge took us into Alameda, where we spent a good chunk of the afternoon at Rosenblum Cellars, where winemaker/owner Kent Rosenblum was our gracious host, pouring his large array of wines for us and showing us throughout the whole facility, tasting barrel samples, wines ready to be bottled, and free run juice from the grapes they were beginning to crush (this being harvest time in the wine country). After many hours and many sips of the nectar, we headed back into the city before the rush hour traffic.

Our next stop was the beautiful Coit Tower, where we photographed the many murals that line the walls before making our way up to the top for a panoramic view of the City by the Bay. With blue skies above and the fog rolling in off the ocean, it was a spectacular view.

Stomachs panging at this point, we ventured to our dinner destination, Fiore di Italia, the oldest Italian restaurant in the country. Knowing it would be my last non-Asian meal for the next couple of weeks, calamari, pasta and veal were ingested, to my palate's delight. Then, it was back to the airport to catch our 14-hour flight to Hong Kong. Once aboard, I couldn't believe my luck, as I had a bulkhead seat with nothing in front of me but legroom to spare. But with luck also comes misery, as I have a bloody screaming child seated right behind me who cried for hours on end. Luckily, my thirst for sleep superseded the noise, and I was out like a light. Somewhere over the next few hours while asleep, we crossed the International Date Line, gaining a whole day in the process.

After a couple meals, a few movies and a little more sleep, we arrive in Hong Kong, only having to wait another few hours before our two-hour flight to Bangkok, Thailand. With 21 hours of flying time behind us, and having spent the last 36 hours in the same clothing, we find ourselves in Bangkok, where our limo takes us to the lovely and modern Amari Watergate Hotel on the east side of the city, where we immediately jump in the shower, put on a fresh layer of clothes, and head out the door to start our exploration of the city and get a feel for the layout of the land.

Our weather forecast for the day was 95 degrees and 100 percent humidity, with more of the same every day spent here in Bangkok. Muggy as it was, we ended up taking about three showers a day, spending time in the hotel pool, and, as their slogan says, "Thank heaven for 7-11!" They are everywhere in this city, and thank God, because every half hour or so we were searching for one to get another big bottle of water to replenish and refresh ourselves. I swear, on this trip, I drank more water than I ever have in my lifetime.

Taxis are very inexpensive in the city, costing about $1 per ride including tip and never more than $2 to our furthest points away from the hotel. Traffic is extremely congested, the streets crowded with cars, buses, scooters, taxis, and Tuk Tuk's (a three-wheeled vehicle with a driver up front and seating for two in the rear) resembling a rickshaw with a motor, not the safest mode of transportation in this city.

Street food abounds in this city, carts and stands offering everything from grilled satay, fish, sausages, fruit, and so many things I was not familiar with and was not going to try, either. The Thai people seem to go through the day eating from these street side eateries, having a nibble here and a nibble there. But, unless you wanted to take your health into your own hands, we stayed away from this type of eating at all cost.

With our body clocks out of synch, with the time there being 12 hours ahead from back home, we find sleeping a little rough and being wide awake at 5 a.m. A buffet American breakfast helped each day to get us started, and our hours walking the streets each day helped to wear that off and make room for our daily dinners. We dined at many of Bangkok's finest establishments, where traditional Thai food was the order of the day. The menus seemed to be 15 to 20 pages everywhere, so we didn't bother to complain when the waiter would return 15 minutes after we were seated, because we were still pondering through the never ending list. Typically, there were many fish dishes (90 percent of the named fish I had no clue of what they were) and many fish head specialties. Of course, chicken, beef, and vegetarian, but unlike myself, Janet was in heaven with all the yellow and red curry dishes that were offered.

Armed with my new digital camera and six discs to boot, able to shoot upwards of 900 photos, we take in the splendor that Bangkok has to offer. The biggest attractions in any big city, and especially here, are their religious sites. Their temples are called Wat. (What? Wat! If Abbott and Costello were Asian, they'd have a field day with that one) And, at the Grand Palace, Bangkok's holiest shrine, Wat's of every shape and size abound, some layered in gold, others covered in colorful glass tiles, still others in ceramic and trinkets. Images and statues of Buddha in all sizes are everywhere as well. All are awe inspiring, as you go from one to another and admire their beauty. We also visit the Wat Pho, which houses the gigantic golden reclining Buddha; at about 70 feet long and 30 feet high, it's grandeur overwhelming. Getting Wat 'ed out at this point, we hire a long boat (just that, a long boat with a car engine on the back with a long shaft hanging off the back of the boat with its propeller) that travels the many inner canals around Bangkok where people live in stilt houses above the water.

But first, our driver takes us upriver to a spot popular with the locals for seafood. A ramshackle dock with a few tables; what they lack in ambiance they make up for in the quality of their food as we dine on 10-inch long barbequed river prawns, fried rice and roasted duck. And, strangely enough, as stated in our restaurant guidebook, all the waiters were dressed in drag. The way they swayed and sashayed was the entertainment that went along with our total bill of $15 for all our food and drink.

Now, it was off on our first exploration of the Thorburi canals, which we had paid $8 for an hour-long ride.

But, along the way, having known beforehand that we were in this country at the end of their monsoon rainy season, the skies opened up on us as we motored along. With covering over the top of the boat, this damn rain was coming down sideways, and I was drenched as though I had just jumped into a pool. Being 95 degrees, it was as refreshing as it was uncomfortable being wet. Our driver did happen upon a bridge that gave us refuge for a short while, and once the rain let up, we resumed our trip, wet from head to toe and laughing so hard at ourselves we couldn't stop; it seemed like a small price to pay for the experience itself.

After our ride back to the hotel, a sundowner poolside, and another shower, we head off to our dinner destination for the evening, a place also popular with the locals, The Seafood Market. This was quite an experience. First off, when you walk up to the doors, the place is the size of a large bingo hall, mostly filled with tables. We are greeted at the entryway by our hostess, who navigates us to our table. Once there, we are then greeted by another gal who has a small shopping cart with her; apparently, there is no such thing as a menu here. Because this place is a bit more remote, a lot less people speak English, and during our whole dining experience, they seemed to be a bit impatient with us for the simple reason that we were hard to communicate with, and we didn't understand the concept of this restaurant. This said, she takes us from our table to the rear of the restaurant, where the entire back wall is lined with, first of all, live fish, either on ice or in shallow water tanks, ready for the picking. You pick your fish, they bag it, and our hostitute puts it into her cart. Once you pick your fish, she leads you down a bit further to where there is an assortment of vegetables. You then pick your vegetables of choice. Same goes for the fruit and bread. Now we are catching on a bit, you pick it, they cook it. Once we have all of our ingredients in the cart, we go through an actual checkout line, cashier and all. We pay for our pickings and head back to the table. We are then met by our cook, who asks us how we would like everything prepared. Simple enough, and off he goes with our cart.

We are next taken to a small shop that houses all the beers, wines, and beverages. You choose you liquid of choice, pay for it, and with her little cart, she brings it back to the table. That's when food, now cooked and prepared, starts arriving at your table. Stupid me, now I know what the potatoes would have been for ... French fries, which I now spot at the next table. It seems to us now that we got an awful lot of food, but we dig into our feast wholeheartedly. Though the concept seems unique, it truly wasn't one of our best meals, satisfying yet unimpressive.

When it comes time to leave, three people arrive at our table. Number one, a gentleman with our bill. A bill? For what, we ponder. Well, they hand us a placard that lists prices of how much it costs for the cook to prepare each item. A dollar for a particular vegetable, a few bucks for the fish, another buck for the calamari, another dollar to open your wine. Wait a minute here, what was once a novel idea and a cheap meal is now like Reaganomics, taxation without knowledge of representation. Once handed to us, he leaves, and we get the impression that gentleman number two takes our money, which he politely does, and off he goes. Left standing at our table now is gal number three, and she stands there and stares at us.

Not knowing what exactly her function was (we thought she may have been the tip lady, but that was already included in our bill) we get up and begin to exit, and as we do, she lets out a big sigh or grunt, but we keep walking, not knowing what the heck just happened. It was an experience, one we didn't want to put ourselves in position for again.

To be continued...

Percival A. Friend, Retired
The Epitome of Wrestling Managers
2004 CAC Honoree