By Na Tasukon

The Footpath Files

Founded on one side of the Chao Phraya, Bangkok is a city both by and of the river. Due to the expansion of the greater metropolitan area over time, the Chao Phraya no longer runs along one side of the city, but rather, right through the middle, in what is now South East Asia’s largest urban sprawl. Despite having the region’s most extensive highways, coupled with an increasingly advanced and far-reaching subway and skytrain system, Bangkok’s ageing but vital river ferry network carries on, cloyingly preserved in dilapidated amber — its very existence a taunt to newer forms of transport, asking the question, “Think you can do better?” In some ways, it has yet to be surpassed.

Every morning at first light, from the northern most and the southern most piers of Bangkok’s river ferry network, the tireless crewmen and women of the Chao Phraya Express Boats set about their duties, readying the distinctive orange and white, elongated, floating workhorses on the city’s original riverine thoroughfare — the mighty, murky and meandering River of Kings. Each vessel is manned by three people: a driver, a ticket vendor, and a linesman. As they cast off their first line and head towards one another from the waterway’s opposing peripheries, they begin their aquatic ballet dance from one riverbank to another, up and down — personifying the metaphor of two ships crossing paths —carrying with each route a revolving menagerie of passengers on one of the last surviving river ferry networks still in operation in a major city, anywhere in the world.

When the capital was founded, everything about Bangkok began and ended with the river. Over the centuries, a mixture of trade, politics and commerce ushered in waves of growth, with much of that prosperity expanding outwards, away from the sodden, mud-clogged embankments of the Chao Phraya. Canals were paved over as the search for dryer, less flood prone land literally cemented the city’s future. Now that the future is well and truly here, Bangkok is once again reorienting its attention back towards the river, with skyrocketing property prices and developments that are becoming truly iconic in name and in scale. 

Despite the advent of electric cars, skytrains, subways, monorails and even hybrid buses on dedicated tracks, the river ferry network (in its current guise since 1971) has survived against the odds — holding on and holding out as the most cost-effective, north-south, travel artery for the river bound community. While there are innumerable variations on the kinds of vessels that now ply up and down the river — from electric, fully air-conditioned commuter catamarans and double decker tourist hop-ons, or the ubiquitous dragonfly-like long tail boats with their garlanded prows, to luxuriously plush, Riva-esque hotel cruisers — nothing fully captures the river experience of people and places in all its uninhibited intensity like the quinquagenarian wooden boats of the ferry network. These faded, venerable dames of transport, snorting and chortling about their business, fighting against and flowing with the currents, day in and day out.

Altogether, there are presently 37 stops on the network that are serviced (and sometimes not) by a small flotilla of crafts designated either express or local — alternating from either side of the Chao Phraya — running at approximately 30 minute intervals throughout the day from 6am to 6pm. There is no better way to see Bangkok, in full contact with all your senses, as the constantly moving montage of cityscapes glides by with every passing jetty. Each ferry stop is named either for the surrounding area, or for a notable entity within proximity to the pier — fanciful and poetic names, mostly in Thai, although some in English, in honour of Kings and Temples. A water bound history lesson of who’s who and what’s what, and where’s where in Bangkok — providing the kind of oral motor, syllabic exercises that would challenge even the most experienced of linguists.

To ride on the Chao Phraya Express Boats is to experience an older, more engaged form of travel — one where we are less sheltered from the elements, less buffered from the comforts that cocoon us so effectively in today’s world. At the same time, all our senses are lavished with sights, sounds, smells and the sheer physicality resulting from the movement and vibration of these hulking and heaving vessels. There are no shortages of pagodas, stupas, domes, minarets, spires or dragon-tiled rooftops representing every major religion and their accompanying communities. Architectural styles both grand and grim — towering, glass and steel testaments to the titans of commerce and developement, glorious royal edifices, government ministries set against the most squalid of riverside tenements, lush gardens and commemorative parks, bustling riverside markets, dockyards, hospitals, universities, elegant mansions, gleaming high rises, bridges monumental in style and name, and the entire grand bazaar of life that still vividly, vibrantly, even stubbornly continues to populate both sides of the river embracing and fighting progress at the same time.

Then there are the people — Bangkok comprises a cosmopolitan and dynamic populace, awash with tourists and migrants. For within the potpourri of people that tumble in and out the ferries at each stop, you are likely to see a wide cross section of society, both local and foreign. There are the office workers and students with their sensible day bags, heads firmly planted downwards looking at their smartphone screens, earphones plugged in (with noise reduction these days) and trying their best to inure themselves as much as possible to the daily grind of commuting. There are the tourists, some with rucksacks so large they give you cause to worry of some impending weight imbalance on the vessel. There are dreamers and travel optimists of many sorts (myself included) who ceaselessly marvel at the carnival of external stimuli that pulsates on either side of the boat. There are those who have their favoured spots — some standing, some sitting, some on the left and some on the right, some at the front, or some at the rear, some seeking the sun, others seeking the shade. There are cosmetic pretties, ever-lost hippies, budding photo journalists, social media mavens, cash toting Ah-Mahs, shell-shocked veterans, multi-lingual guides and their flock, representing a multitude of nationalities. Often, you hear words like Siam, ‘The King and I’, Grand Palace, Temple of Dawn, and Reclining Buddha spoken, frequently tinged and twisted by varying accents and dialects.

Onboard, the atmosphere is always more dynamic than any bus or train, be they above or below ground — everyone is persistently aware or curious about where they are and where they are heading towards. When the weather is wet and inclement, everyone huddles behind the semi transparent PVC screens that have to be manually pulled up (and on occasion, held up) to prevent the elemental realities splashing in. On the rare cool days in winter, there is no better form of transportation to be on. At high tide, amidst a torrential monsoon, the onboard tension and anxiety can be palpable.

Whether you are newly arrived to this truly vast metropolis — fast approaching megacity status — or perhaps a part of subsequent generations who have long lived here, you cannot fail to become just that little bit more alive and cognisant of what’s around you, the minute you step on a river ferry. The river conjures its magic, weaving a spell that gently washes over everyone who travels along its epic and storied waterway. It seems not to matter how much the city has grown, and at times, even strained against the forceful will of the Chao Phraya. The river refuses to be ignored — it persists in running its course through this city, as unrelentingly as ever. For now, the ferries dutifully carry on about their way, like Little Toot or Scuffy the Tugboat, possibly wishing for bigger, better things, oblivious to the daily thrills and tribulations they continue to provide for thousands of passengers every day.

The Chao Phraya Express Boats

https://www.chaophrayaexpressboat.com/chaophrayaexpressboat?lang=en

By Na Tasukon

The Footpath Files

Mounted against a wall in one of Bangkok’s oldest houses, situated in a museum that was itself a former palace, is a curious display of a home in miniature — a still life of hopes and dreams. This time capsule in the guise of a dollhouse was once owned by Chao Chom Liam, a concubine of King Rama V, and upon closer examination, its tiny details offer revealing vignettes from a period that ushered in significant changes in Thailand.

Ever since I was a child I found dollhouses fascinating. What I didn’t know until I was an adult, was that they started out not as houses for dolls, but as cabinets of marvellously scaled down objects designed for instruction, more than play. Long before mass produced toys, these cabinets were handmade to order, often at considerable cost, and were symbols of status, conformity as well as idealised domesticity. The fact that the Tate Museum in London has over 100 dollhouses in its collection attests to the historical importance of them in regards to English society. Dollhouses in Thailand however, are a rarity, which is why I found myself drawn in for a closer look.

When I first glanced at this white painted wooden cupboard — suggestive of a bathroom medicine cabinet — I didn’t think that it was anything more than a peculiar remnant of someone’s aristocratic childhood. But as I looked at each room I slowly realised that it was more than a mere plaything from a privileged life. Each meticulously crafted room depicted one aspect after another of domestic life (albeit a privileged one) from a time when Thailand was still known as Siam, a nation ruled by an absolute monarch — a country with one foot on the threshold of modernity and the other still firmly planted in the past. This was not just a toy, but more likely a visual guide and interactive tool meant to educate a young woman on a way of life in transition.

While an informational placard describes the display as a ‘Doll Accessories Cabinet’ owned by a concubine from the reign of King Rama V (1868 – 1910), a tiny portrait of King Rama VII and Queen Rambhai Bharni hanging on a side wall of one of the rooms indicate that the ‘house’ was likely assembled during his reign (1925 – 1935).

Resembling a series of well-appointed rooms (complete with electric lights and ceiling fans) from a late Edwardian or possibly early Modern three storey townhouse, the spaces exhibit a way of living dissimilar to the reality of most Thais during the 1920s — the majority of whom were still residing in single story wooden houses with limited access to electricity, which had then been available for less than a generation.

In contrast to traditional Thai houses of the era, this Lilliputian residence is appointed in the western style, as shown in the predominant furnishings of the drawing room, dining room, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, study and even an entrance foyer with a stairway — one noticeable nod to Thai tradition is the prayer room adjacent to the bedroom on the top floor.

To the left of the entrance is a kitchen, where a wooden work table sees an assortment of crockery both asian and western, methodically laid out in preparation for the day’s meals. On one sideboard is an enamelled kettle, a rare blue glass cake dish with matching dome, more blue glass ice cream dishes, elegant crystal vases, fine china serving platters and bowls in addition to a tureen and even a gravy bowl. On another cupboard are shelves of neatly stacked plates in both formal and day-to-day styles of porcelain. There are diminutive tin cups, a wine cabinet with tiny bottles, small silver plates and a tea cup, along with a Thai style celadon serving bowl with matching pedestal. On the top shelf is a small bottle of silver cleaner (for the silverware, of course), a claret decanter and a pewter and porcelain beer stein labeled ‘München’. While there is a side table with a wash basin and jug in the Victorian fashion, immediately next to it is a large traditional earthenware cistern complete with a wooden lid like the kind you see in monasteries and very traditional Thai houses. In addition to the western style sideboards, there is a very classic example of a Thai pantry cabinet with mesh metal screens as seen in use throughout the country, particularly in rural areas. There is also a basket with small bottles made from Venetian glass and a large glass bowl with a piece of white decorative coral inside. The rug on the floor of this primarily western style kitchen is a Thai style hand woven matt that just about every Thai household has. But perhaps the most charming element present in this latter-day scullery is the minuscule coconut grater stool on the floor.

To the right of the entrance is a drawing room with furnishings and decorative items you can still find to this day in many homes in Thailand. There is one cabinet for porcelain wares and tea sets in varying styles. Another display cabinet is topped with porcelain figurines that can still be found in today’s department stores. There is a piano with a framed photograph on top, a marble bust in one corner and even a rock crystal ball. There are two small paintings of fruits adorning the walls and a decorative Thai elephant statuette dressed with a shimmering silk back covering, encased in glass —still a common sight at any tourist shop in this country.

On the second floor there is a dining room with a table set for afternoon tea as well as more cabinets displaying glassware and a collection of crystal decanters and more tea cups. There is a dressmaker’s model/mannequin with a garment in progress, alongside is a basket on the floor filled with sewing materials. In one corner there is a finely carved Thai style wooden display cabinet containing more porcelain. The walls are hung with framed portraits of Thai temples and coastal scenes. Neatly resting on a mat by the door are a minuscule pair of loafers with wooden shoe trees inside.

Also on the second floor is a study with an era-appropriate writing desk and minuscule fountain pen and inkwell. To the side of the desk is an electric desk lamp with its cord neatly coiled. There are books on a corner shelf, a patterned fabric settee for reclining. Yet another display cabinet holds petite collectible items. In this room are portraits of the King with members of his family and court as well as another portrait showing all the previous kings for the ruling Chakri dynasty.

On the third floor is an elegant bedroom complete with a luxuriously tasseled, canopy bed. Next to which is a western style dressing table with a matching monogrammed satin stool. The dressing table is adorned with items used for personal care such as an assortment of tortoise shell combs, a nano sized toothbrush (resting on a traditional Thai metalware pedestal) and a Bencharong porcelain container. At the foot of the bed is a dress hanging with a fan nearby as if being aired out. Behind the fan is a modern wood encased transistor radio. Completing this room’s arrangement are a pair of white porcelain slippers — Cinderella style — on the floor in front of the wood and glass-curtained dresser.

Attached with the bedroom is a tiled ensuite bathroom which during the 1920s represented the height of modern living. There is a western style freestanding footed bathtub beside a whimsical porcelain flushing toilet with wooden seats and lid, along with the hand painted notice ‘For Ladies Only!’

Finally, there is my favourite space in this house and the one that is quintessentially Thai — the prayer room. Despite the rest of the rooms surrounding the imaginary occupants with all the trappings of the modern era — accoutrements from faraway lands. The owner of this house still saw it fit to have a room dedicated solely to the resident Buddha images and other auspicious items — symbols of prosperity and luck. Interestingly, one fine Buddha image rests atop a thoroughly western double-handled safe, no doubt to keep the family’s valuables such jewels, documents, amulets and gold ingots.

You can lose yourself staring at the handmade details lovingly selected in this house.  I certainly did. While the quality of this cabinet is not on the level of the kind found in Europe, in the context of where and when, and for whom it was produced, it is still fascinating to look at. The more you examine it, the less it feels like a play thing — this was a a very intentional, curated object lesson on how to live a modern life while still incorporating what it means to be Thai. This dollhouse was never about the dolls. Perhaps that is why it has survived to this day — a miniature exhibition in its own right — an imagined modern house displayed in one of the oldest surviving examples of a Thai house, residing in the National Museum behind its own original locked glass cabinet door.

The National Museum

4 Na Phrathat Road, Phra Nakhon, Bangkok Phra Borom Maha Ratchawang, Phra Nakhon, Bangkok 10200

The Doll Accessories Cabinet is part of a permanent exhibition in Phra Tamnak Daeng (The Red House) in the National Museum compound.