The consumer 1980s you remember grew up and became Bangkok

Bangkok’s devotion to shopping means the city experiences three rush-hours a day. The third occurs when the shops close.

What would a world look like in which 80s-style malls and bricks-and-mortar consumerism survived to the modern day? In Bangkok today, Amazon is a coffee shop, online shopping is frowned upon, and the mega-mall dominates minds, public spaces and weekends.

Thailand has not allowed online shopping to hijack its consumer landscape. Amazon has no presence here. Local online equivalents have not yet earned the trust of Thai consumers. Physical stores are very much where it’s at.

So, if you’re in the mood for some throwback consumerism – or need to get out of the midday sun – Bangkok’s malls are your place. Be aware of the small cultural differences – local standards of customer service mean the sales assistants have a Velcro tendency – they attach themselves to you when you enter a store.

The brave and forewarned shopper should start at Siam Paragon. The Skytrain will take you directly there. Designer clothes boutiques fill the ground floor; more affordable, familiar brands fill the higher ones. Anyone new to Asia should make Japanese clothing manufacturer Uniqlo their first stop. Beware clothing sizes – items are labelled to reflect Asia’s slender frames. Bring your phone as the city has gone cashless. 

If Paragon is too upmarket or too crowded for you, CentralWorld is a five-minute walk away. It has the same stores but carries a wider variety of products in a more spacious environment. The grounds in front are always dominated by TikTokers and ring flashes documenting the ever-creative promotional attractions there. There’s always a food market too. The Apple store is frighteningly popular.

The recently opened Emsphere, at Asoke, is a highly decorated shop window expanded to cover several floors. The elaborate décor is changed to match the season. The ground floor is a maze of small food outlets, designed to mimic the packed back streets of Asia’s recent past. The shops on the higher floors are minimalist and trendy. You look here, rather than shop. It glitters, especially after dark.    

Icon Siam, on the Chao Phraya River, is a showpiece for Bangkok’s consumer excess. It can be reached either by boat or train. It’s spacious and gleaming interior reflects all those designer brands on an unsettling scale. The food areas all resemble the imagined Thai markets of the past and are designed to appeal to the locals missing their rural homes and tourists pursuing Thai authenticity. The Alangkarn Waterfall on the 6th floor makes the trip worthwhile.  

If you miss the mall – or just feel like shopping – Bangkok offers consumerism on an unapologetic scale. It’s no longer He-man and Transformers though. Today the stores are filled with Hello Kitty, One Piece, Harry Potter and iPhones. If you don’t know who Lisa is, you will by the time you leave.

Big Yellow Taxis Need to Park Somewhere

Are there uncontacted tribes in the concrete jungle? Or are we travellers just the mutant spawn of excessively photoshopped travel journalism and the white room horrors of package-holiday mind control?  

Step out and you’ll soon discover paradise is not a place, it’s a delusion occupied by seekers boarding the flight from reality. Out there, you’ll quickly realise where there’s land, there’s endless amounts of disagreeable people making recognisably ill-informed decisions. Those New World treasure hunters found only cursed golden idols worshipped by cannibals, grateful only to visitors for spicing things up. Yes, I’m comparing modern tourism to Cannibal Ferox. Travellers prepare, say I, for terminal disappointment.

Today’s equivalent jungle fever and gold lust is, of course, industrial concrete. It sits like mayonnaise atop the globe’s most celebrated corners. It functions, yes, but does little to enhance everything it’s poured over. Should we blame the chef or the paying customer?

Consider all those tropical islands with their crumbling concrete jetties and forested mountainsides laid with decaying concrete walkways. Perhaps refrain from sneering at the execution and instead applaud the utilitarian efforts to forestall decay. Consider the wider logic of paving that hillside only to have perpetually dissatisfied tourists LARPing up and down.

Look at these:

Where might one assume such images were taken? The concrete is mundane and functional, lacking even Bauhaus pretension. The harsh shadows and the warm light suggest the tropics. Both were taken in Bangkok. “Thailand?”, you gasp. “Beach parties, sex tourism and spice-scorched sphincters? Surely not.”

That incredulous denial is the sound of sub-Turner-like visions of sublime Arcadia awkwardly confronting a man-made environment thrown together on a developing country budget. It’s your dreams shedding their illusions.   

Shocking as it may be, remote destinations suffer the same brutal economics and greater entropy than locations closer to home. Aesthetic ideals are rarely a consideration. The truth is these values are more the indulgent projections of western liberals imagining the exotic world as an en vogue exhibit pitched in the middle ground between the Prado and the Pitt Rivers.

My condemnation is reserved less for the creators of such brutalist monstrosities and more for the architects of this art-historical ideal. Yes, I’m condemning good old-fashioned Orientalism, masquerading as aesthetic criticism. The Lost Horizon adult colouring book this is not. Only the truly arrogant take the enlightened high ground when confronted by such pragmaticism. Don’t you think the locals know it’s a blight too? Alternatively, go take a bus in Britain and try recommending the experience.   

Today, the role of travellers is not to journey dreamily through the concrete-augmented reality our wanderlust called into being, but instead to trek honestly through the policy-ruined world discoverable along the way. If your experience of this world is no deeper than your last cocktail, you just holidayed in your own mind. Or to put it differently, your holiday fantasy is your problem. Come to terms with its falsity as there’s no sympathy for those dreaming in Instagram filters.  

Exploring the Peerless Piers of Thailand’s Koh Kood

Perfect blue skies. Perfect blue seas. The Thai island of Koh Kood is an affordable and accessible alternative to the Maldives, with the bonus of the world’s best cuisine.

Thailand’s islands are rightly popular destinations. Koh Samui and Koh Chang are perhaps the most visited; Koh Phangan is famed for its full moon parties. Many spend a lifetime dreaming of visiting such tropical exotica and, on the whole, these islands are pleasant, if crowded, destinations offering decent food, drink, sun, surf and diving. You might want an alternative.

The highlight of any island trip is always the ferry journey that gets you there. The sea breeze, the sounds of the water and the leisurely pace plug straight into calm. If you’re unlucky, you might be herded onto a speedboat, sat behind dirty glass and subjected to a Thai soap opera for the duration of the crossing. Stanislavski who? If you have a choice, always opt for the slow wooden boat.

When Koh Kood mercifully appears on the horizon, the side of the island facing the incoming boats presents only a small port backed by dense forest. Upon disembarking, a Thai woman with a whiteboard calmly points to the name of your hotel and a pickup truck with a hard bench in the back. Thais call them songthaews. Getting bounced around in one is part of the Thai experience.

You can do worse than stay at a glamping site called The Survival. Its gimmick is spacious teepees in age-of-exploration beige, comfy beds and reassuringly cool aircon. Showers and toilets are communal, uncrowded and well-maintained. The boat may get you there before check-in, but cocktails and larb gai on the beach make up for it.

If you’re unlucky enough to be someone who sears and sweats rather than glows and bronzes, you’re going to need industrial grade suncream and a hat. Dress for the cool you have, not the Italian cool you have no hope of emulating. Bring very dark glasses if you’re sensitive to bright light – even a decent pair of Ray-Bans will struggle to reduce the glare.

If you grow bored of cocktails, sunbaking and doomscrolling, you might give some thought to something more active, such as seeing the island. Diving, scuba and snorkelling trips can be booked at any resort. The water around nearby Koh Raet was full of tourist boats in the late afternoon.

A mainstay of any Thai adventure is renting a dubiously maintained motor scooter. The added thrill of not dying makes it all the more satisfying. Check the brakes before leaving your resort. The island’s interior is a modern road cut through forest. The roads are quiet and largely traffic-free. The only drama is the monkeys fighting in the trees.

The island of Koh Kood is located in Trat, on the south-eastern side of Thailand, close to Cambodia. It is the last of a string of linked tropical islands. You can easily get a boat from one of the other islands – a cocktail on the Cococape pier on Koh Mak is a worthy stop on the way through. Alternatively, book a resort package that includes pickup at Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport.

The island can be easily explored in a leisurely paced day. You’ll see beaches and resorts, endless piers and the occasional deepwater port. Koh Kood is an Instagrammer’s playground. Look for the shoals of fish. The island has only its tourist good-life ecosystem and moves to the rhythms of the lapping ocean. The only mild annoyance is the choice of music in some of the resorts. Yes, you’re going to hear Gloria Gaynor singing about surviving and a lot of Hotel California. Given that islands swarming with hostile uncontacted natives do still exist, mild Ed Sheeran exposure is getting off lightly.

The island offers little in its interior besides a few waterfalls. Don’t expect much, as these run dry during the tourist season. The size of the well-eroded boulders in the dry riverbeds suggests they must be spectacular during the monsoon. The Thais have a peculiar love of waterfalls, alcohol and unsafe behaviour, so be cautious of how others are behaving.

Pick any beach, resort or bar when you fancy a break. Thai food is genuinely the finest in the world, and most menus will contain explanations in simple English that fail to do the cuisine justice. Authentic Thai food is an order of magnitude better than what’s served in restaurants across the world. If you hunger for the familiar, most places can knock up a fine burger or a decent pepperoni pizza. Vegetarians and vegans might go hungry. While most food is cooked to Western preferences, be aware that the Thai palate – especially in its colourful drinks – leans heavily towards sugar.

Learn the phrase ‘mai pet’, meaning ‘not spicy’, and be mindful that the Thai definition of this is still often hazardous to the Western bowel. Avoid finely chopped chillies and those soaked in the condiments served with the food. You run zero risk of food poisoning, but adverse reactions to chilli are another matter entirely. Avoid it unless you like bathroom interiors.

The day done, return to your resort for the sort of sunset Monet dreamt about, a swim in that ocean and the obligatory fire show. Thai sunsets are always spectacular; the water here is warm, clean and unusually free of both jellyfish and surfers. The fire shows, usually at weekends, consist of young men twirling fire around on ropes, freely demonstrating why none of them seem to have any body hair. It’s a massive cliché and largely inescapable. An evening meal and cocktails on the beach round out the day nicely. The kitchens and bars close early. Bring repellent, sleeves and trousers for the night. Nocturnal things hunger too.

Of course, awareness of your surroundings is always wise. Thailand is generally very safe, but violence does flare up, usually between locals over alcohol and petty matters. Lone travellers need not be concerned.

If you’ve ever pictured walking out onto a wooden pier overlooking perfectly clear blue seas, under equally blue skies and shaded on all sides by coconut palms, then Koh Kood is for you. It offers Maldives-like experiences at a fraction of the cost, against the background of all of Thailand’s other sites and sights. There are plenty of wannabe desert island getaways around the world, with eco-obsessions and imported sand. Koh Kood is what they all aspire to be: the genuine article.

Hail Caesar!

Starz’s Spartacus: House of Ashur is a triumphant return to writer/showrunner Steven DeKnight’s Roman world of sex, gore and quality storytelling. It proves an entertaining tale of survival in a will-to-power world that owes more to the exploitation movies of Roger Corman than the aristocratic infighting of Game of Thrones.

Spartacus and his army are a memory, and the Roman survivors yearn for fresh entertainment in the arena. Enter the gladiatrix. The show was criticised at the outset as Tenika Davis was cast as the new champion. She’s introduced throwing centurion red shirts around like rag dolls.

Yet she is not the Mary Sue many feared. She’s little more than the b-plot and spends most of the ten episodes getting beaten into the dust. Many feared a watered-down follow-up built on concession to identity politics. Be clear, that fear is misplaced. This new show is brilliantly written and executed in a glorious excess that equals the shows that came before it.

After being resurrected by the gods, former gladiator Ashur inherits the house and gladiator training school of his former master. Rivalries between gladiator houses get deadly. He’s also taken with the widowed daughter of a senator, which complicates matters as Ashur twists and turns his way through life-threatening problems created by the untouchable elite of Roman society. Unlike much of modern writing, consequences flow from action; ego and hubris bring death and ruin to many.

The writers go about this with subversive humour evident in their best creations – the three dwarf gladiators, depicted as freakish amusement to the crowds – until their threat is savagely established. Brilliantly played, the characters are deadly, debaucherous and gloriously foul mouthed.

It’s easy to see why writer/showrunner Steven DeKnight’s Roman world can sustain a story beyond that of Spartacus. This is a well-realised hell-scape, pitiless and hope-free. The new series might lack the anti-slavery message of its predecessor, but it retains its pure wargasm with no attempt at realism whatsoever.

Whilst other shows go for highbrow magical realism, attempted authenticity, and grand ambition, DeKnight’s people are driven by lust, domination and revenge. This is a far more raw and honest view of an unpleasant age.   

The infamous arena battles remain gore-soaked comedy – a live action Itchy and Scratchy. The scenes are well-placed through the plot – entertaining interludes between the dense turns of a complex story. DeKnight has done something unique with this series – he’s brought exploitation cinema back with a colour-saturated bang. Bridgerton this is not. Repressed passions in this world turn into public orgies.

This is a world you aren’t meant to envy – everyone is a beast where survival comes at the expense of others. Even the weakest characters plot. Wives scheme; prostitutes manipulate; slaves flatter.  All the characters are drawn with a boo-hiss villainy, all emotions are theatre and no-one is particularly likeable. The reborn Ashur is only empathetic as the story is told from his perspective.

While many might dismiss this as a return to the exploitative tone of yesteryear, there is an obvious intelligence and satire behind it all. Many shows today are written in a lazy modern vernacular. DeKnight has his actors chew well-crafted faux Roman dialogue as if it were Shakespeare. The show deserves a high grade just for its commitment to being as extreme as it is. It isn’t subtle, but why does it need to be? It is a show built around gladiators murdering each other for public amusement. It isn’t supposed to be easy viewing. Repulsion should be part of an honest reaction.   

The final arena contest itself is no surprise, but that final twist…. Hail Caesar, indeed. Series two, if greenlit and apparently already written, promises to take the story into a new day where Ashur is done fawning around the powerful.

Overall, DeKnight’s revival is a brilliantly realised return to a familiar world – just don’t get too close to the screen. Proximity can be terminal.

4/5 This revival casts aside all concessions to ideological casting and spins a well-crafted story that easily sustains a sequel in a post-Spartacus Roman world.

Starz

10 Episodes seen

Living on a Burmese Train Station

Pyinmana, Central Myanmar, is a railway town halfway between Yangon and Mandalay. Between 2015-2018 I documented families living on station platforms, informal economies, and everyday life during the brief period of political reform . After the 2021 coup, these images now mark a world few will see.