First leg: IAH-ORD-ZRH-BKK-SIN
Part 3
The Bangkok FCL gets rave reviews. It is nice and spacious; more than 5 hours felt considerably less than that.
I sit down and ordered the pad thai. The only decent pad thai I’ve ever had outside Thailand was at Chiang Mai Kitchen in Oxford, but I figured it would be less risky here. It was disappointing bland. I get a second glass of Moet Imperial to help things along. I schedule a massage, but am told that, as I’m connecting from F to C – and not departing in F – I can’t get the full 1 hour massage. Language seems to be the culprit here.
Soon, I arrive for my 6:30am massage. I’m escorted there even though it is almost exactly across the hall from the FCL. While waiting, I’m given the option of the one hour massage, and I take it.
This is where things start to get a little weird. Just a little.
I’m escorted to a beautifully decorated private room. Inside, a full walk-in shower, a bathroom, and a massage table. It is about twice as large as my apartment in Paris; je ne plaisante pas. And with better quality fixtures. I’m given a bathrobe and a little wooden box with what looks like a folded pair of black socks. I am given a choice of three oils.
The masseuse leaves, with me still a bit confused. I put the wooden box to the side, take off my shirt, and put the bathrobe on. The attendant comes back and is unsatisfied, pointing to my trousers. She leaves; I take them off; and am now in boxers and the bathrobe. Even this is not correct somehow. It finally transpires that I’m meant to wear the contents of the little wooden box. I have a look, and unfold a largely transparent, black cloth Speedo. I shrug and put it on, and wrap a towel around my waist.
I start on my stomach. The masseuse begins by folding up the bottom edge of the Speedo slightly, which disconcerts me slightly. She massages from near the ankle in a straight line all the way up to just under the Speedo line. Never anything inappropriate, I should stress, but close enough to make me quite tense. This goes on for some time, and eventually we repeat but reversed, on my back. This presents an additional worry, as I, shall we say, don’t want to display too much interest in the current goings-on. I manage to keep my composure, but at the expense of relaxation. The shoulders, arms, neck are all done quite nicely, and soon I’m off to take a shower and recuperate with the lemongrass tea I chose at the start.
Back to the lounge, though without the escort I had some difficulty walking the thirty paces across the hall. I sit down in a TV room and order a green prawn curry and more champagne. It is fantastic, actually: one of the best Thai curries I’ve ever had. Very, very spicy – and my tolerance levels are quite good for a white person.
Some light chatting to friends back in the US and Canada, some spring rolls, more champagne, and soon it is time to depart for Singapore.
I walk to the gate – no cart, and it’s the farthest one in that wing. After a slight wait, board the Thai 777 with slanted flat beds. I take an iced lemon tea while at the gate, perfect in the Bangkok weather, and put the bed in recline. Immediately asleep, though I’m woken up about an hour later per my request for a surprisingly decent stir fried chicken dish. I’ve gotten less on Continental in domestic First.
We land on time in Singapore and I’m through immigration rather quickly. The BKK-SIN hop was the perfect chance to sober up and sleep a little after the previous marathon sessions. The bag is out early, and nearly 20 minutes after landing I’m walking to the car park to head to a hawker centre for our first dinner.
It is National Day soon, and many housing blocks are decked in Singaporean flags.
Oyster omelette:
Mid evening snack of turtle soup.
And then the second dinner, chili crab flown in from Sri Lanka.