Cabbages & Condoms, Stinky Feet, and Heat

One pre-trip discovery was a restaurant called Cabbages and Condoms.  It was established to help prevent the spread of AIDS and find alternatives for poor rural Thai families so they don’t have children they can’t pay for and have to sell to the brothels in Thailand.  http://www.cabbagesandcondoms.com/project.php

Sure, it’s a touristy spot, but let’s face it, we were tourists and we wanted to see as many things as we could.  We set out about 2 pm from the hotel.  We figured we make it a late lunch early dinner and we really wanted to be back in the hotel by dark.  Our guide assured us that we were in a very safe area of Bangkok, but we also couldn’t read the signs or really ask for directions; so we wanted to be safe.

We left the lobby of the hotel—the doorman runs to open the door for us, I should note that everyone in Thailand seems happy and they all seem to work hard for very little pay.  I’m sure they talked about us behind our back.  (or hell, maybe even right in front of us), but you never saw anyone copping an attitude or rolling their eyes.  I often think the language of a country reflects that country’s mentality.  To the ear, Thai sounds soft and musical and almost gentle.  I took Japanese in college and I found that to be a poetic language, but compared to Thai is sounds clipped and harsh.

Anyway, we turn left.  The sidewalks are dirty and uneven.  The storefronts lining the street show off goods and money changers.  Sometimes scooters hop the curb and move around you to get in front of the unbelievable Bangkok traffic.  Everyone is driving between each other, squeezing in, pulling around, pushing forward.  And yet, the horns only honk as warnings rather than in anger and road rage doesn’t have a place here.  Everyone wants to go and no one wants to hit anyone.  There are a few stoplights but for the most part it’s anything goes and lanes are just vague suggestions.

While we walk, we pass a skinny homeless man dressed only in a tattered pair of shirts and an open button-down dress shirt.  He’s barefoot and his seat is under a sick looking tree right next to a pile of dog poop which seems to be melting in the unrelenting heat.  There are bikes and scooters parked on the sidewalks too.

At the corner of the two major streets, we’re right by the stairs that go up to the sky train and to the bridges for pedestrians to cross the streets.  Miki, our guide, made sure she emphasized that we had to go over the streets.  “Traffic not stop,” she warned.

We’d gone up and over to get to Citibank in the morning, but now we turned left and went looking for Soi 12.  Miki told us that the small streets off the main drag are called “soi”.  Streets is really a misnomer, because they’re alleys stuffed full of more storefronts and businesses with barely enough room for two cars to squeeze through.  There are no sidewalks on these places, you just walk on the edge of the road and trust that people won’t mow you down as they rush to their destinations.  To be fair, this isn’t real surprising in a city that traces its roots back to the 15^th century—the streets are wide enough for water buffalo.

Anyway, on the way to Soi 12, we pass an Indian restaurant, a KFC (Nancy stops to take a picture), and an Italian restaurant.  In addition, we pass various street food vendors and vendors just starting to set up.

Soi 12 is an alley like the others.  There’s a sign with the number 12 on it.  That’s what Miki told us to look for.  The road is broken up with a shallow trench on one side, presumably for when it rains.  There are bottles and plastic jugs and paper laying all over the street.  We walk on the street, single file heading down into the claustrophobic bowels of the city.  Scooters and cars rush by.  We pass others walking too.

Finally we get to a sign that says “Cabbages & Condoms Restaurant.”

Turning into a small break in a concrete wall, there’s a green walkway that leads to the restaurant.  There’s a store on one side, a table with people selling stuff on the other.  Then we get to the open air restaurant.  A chubby, older woman asks if we want to sit outside or inside.

The outside patio has misting fans and lots of greenery.  But it’s hot and I’m weary of mosquitoes. So, we opt for inside and air conditioned.  In Thailand air conditioned means a nice balmy 25 degrees Celsius which is 77 degrees Fahrenheit.  Tiger Woods, made out of condoms, doesn’t seem to have a problem with the heat.  Neither does the Santa or Captain Condom who are all standing around in their latex splendor to welcome us to our dining experience.

The lights are decorated with condoms.  There are signs on the wall with anatomically endowed stick figures in various positions urging one to use condoms for each.  There are decorated condoms everywhere.

The menu is about ten pages long, but every dish has pictures which is pretty cool.  We ask for Diet Coke and get “Coke Light” which is Coke with Splenda. 

  There are no free waters or free refills in Thailand, everything comes in a can or a bottle.  Anyway, I immediately focus on chicken satay…chicken on a stick with peanut sauce. 

Nancy orders lemongrass chicken and I order honey chicken.  And for dessert, I order fried bananas.  The waitress comes back and tells me there’s no more honey chicken.  So, I order basil chicken.  A nice spicy dish.

A western woman comes into the restaurant by herself and sits at a table near us.  She orders a martini, a dry martini and proceeds to tell a group of people exactly how she wants it made.  “This much vermouth.  It’s really easy.” She said.  They make it and she sends it back four times.  “I can come back and make it,” she tells them.

As she’s reading the menu, she notices something.

It’s about four inches long.

“Bug! Bug! Bug!” the woman screams.  Pointing. 

The staff rushes around to see what the commotion is.

The cockroach skitters away from the noise.

I look at Nancy.

Nancy looks at me.

“It’s an outdoor restaurant in the middle of the tropics,” Nancy says.

“The place looks clean,” I say.

She nods.

There’s a silent understanding that we will not speak of the four inch long cockroach that ran across the floor.  Clearly, the staff wasn’t too concerned about it and seemed more disturbed by the woman and her never perfect martini.

The food comes.  It’s good.  The basil chicken actually tastes a lot like the same dish at Jo Wok here in Sandusky.  And clearly, I do not like warm bananas.

There were no roaches in the food.

We discovered laid back service at its finest.  Patience is something you need in Thailand whether you are dealing with the traffic or the service in a restaurant.  Nothing is hurried.  The Thai are a people who pay close attention to details and take their time.  At Cabbages & Condoms, you get a condom instead of a mint with your check. 

We stopped to do some shopping on the way out and took pictures with the condom figures.  Then decided to walk through a street market on the way back.

There are these markets everywhere in Thailand.  It’s like one giant flea market.  We passed booths selling everything.  The most notable of this was durian.  Durian is a fruit that is notorious for its horrible smell.  It’s sold throughout Asia and it’s banned from taxis and hotels and everything else.  Watching Andrew Zimmern try it and make a face just doesn’t tell you how this stuff smells.  It’s like a combination of sour milk and stinky feet.  Coconuts tapped with a straw for drinking coconut water are everywhere.  Silk, fake silk, knickknacks, Buddha carvings, and whatever else you can imagine is sold from these stalls.  You see the women carrying huge bundles of stuff on bamboo poles to stock their stalls.  Stray dogs run around everywhere and cats are skinny and hanging out in every nook.

The streets are crowded and busy until way into the night.  The smells of daytime give way to smells of food and charcoal and exhaust.  It cools down to a more bearable 85 degrees when the sun goes down.

Notable details:  The hotel smells of curry and the street food as if everyone is cooking in their rooms.  But really it’s the sweat.  After a while, you sweat that curry out through your pores.  The basil chicken spice burns your lips and makes it seem not so hot outside.  Why is everyone wearing long sleeves and pants? No one wears shorts or short-sleeved shirts.  They shiver in the 77 degree air conditioning.

pictures provided by my partner in crime.