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Posted from Bangkok, Thailand at 4:51 PM local time

Finding a Home for Ruth's Red Duffle

Wow, what a day! It actually began yesterday, when I wandered over to the KT Guesthouse here in Bangkok in search of a large red duffle bag. The duffle had been left at KT by Ruth, a friend of a friend. It seems Ruth had lugged vitamins and toys to Bangkok - but either didn't have time to offload them or couldn't find a worthy recipient. Enter Molly, who never stops in Bangkok - so...enter Ryker. Molly knows I am in Bangkok fairly often - and I do know a few organizations that could use the goods. So, why not?

Getting to KT was easy. Cabbies can get almost anywhere in the central district for under 100 baht - you're usually out no more than a few dollars on a taxi here. KT provides a map on their Web site - so I made it without a hitch. Finding Ruth's bag, however, was another story. First, KT has a long list of guests who've left luggage at various times - but I hadn't a clue how long it had been since Ruth's visit. There's also a tagging system. Ruth's bag, I'd been told via email, was #217. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to help. Unable to locate the right information in the ledger at the front desk, the receptionist ultimately escorts me back to the storage room. I immediately spot a H-U-G-E red duffle - but there is no tag to be found. I look at it, glance up at the woman assisting me, and - seeing no indication that I shouldn't - open the bag. Let's just say what I discovered inside was not vitamins, Hot Wheels, clothing, or anything else even remotely useful to Thai orphans. Hmm... My assistant dashes out of the room while I continue sifting through bags. A few minutes later, she is back, escorting me to another storage location. And yes, there I manage to find another large red duffle - this one bearing tag #217. I check the contents. Bingo. Back at the front desk, my escort is now able to locate the appropriate log entry - and I sign the dotted line. It turns out Ruth visited nine months ago!

That done, I thank my assistant for her help - and ask for directions to the nearest subway station. Despite the fact that a cab back to my place would run just a couple of bucks, that amount is more than three times the cost of the subway. So I get the bright idea that I'll save some big money by going the latter route. It's not far, according to the map. Aye-aye-aye. I set out and quickly realize that there are A LOTTA vitamins in the bag I'm lugging - and the station is further than I thought. I manage to get there without making a wrong turn - but end up absolutely drenched in sweat. It's not even the hot season here in Thailand - and I was soaked. Don't know how long the walk took me - perhaps fifteen minutes - but it felt like eternity. All to save about $1.50. Anyway, I buy my ticket, hoist the duffle over the gate (it doesn't fit through the turnstile), and lumber on down the stairs to catch my train. Fortunately, the Bangkok subway is new - and there's probably not a cooler hangout in the city (temperature-wise, that is). I sigh deeply as my body temperature begins to drop. Train arriving, I hop on and am whisked away.

Now, I am attempting to get back to "my neighborhood" before 5 p.m., as I need to pay for my ticket outta the country. My hard-working local travel agent, who helps out when I cannot find deals on the Web, is waiting for me. Plenty of time, I think to myself. And then I realize that on the other end of the line, once I'm off, I will again be lugging around what feels like a thousand pounds of vitamins. And the traffic is going the wrong way - so I'm going to have to hoof it! Aargh. In order to make my 5 p.m. appointment, I have to pick up the pace - and by the time I drop off the bag at my guesthouse I am once again soaked. Regardless, I rest for all of about thirty seconds and head to the agent's office just a few minutes away. I walk in at 5 after 5 - and she's still busy. We get everything taken care of - and I head off to do other things, knowing I'll distribute Ruth's goods the following day...

Which gets us to today, this morning. I am up early and know exactly where I want to go. The Phaya Thai Babies' Home is where I plan to leave Ruth's donation. I visited Phaya Thai about nine months ago along with friends Anoti and Ananth. We dropped off donations and spent an hour or two with the youngest of the orphaned children. And despite feeling like the place was pretty well-heeled and not in need of our support, we liked it. I have this dilemma with orphanages in Asia. Visiting the dirty, nasty places, I feel like our donations are absolutely critical. It appears the kids will starve without our support. Then of course, when I visit the spotless orphanages with clothed children and a nanny for every pair of kids, I feel like the support is unnecessary. This place is already well-funded, I think to myself, so why not give to an organization that really needs the help? Several of my fellow travelers have had similar reactions. In retrospect, however, I sometimes wonder whether we shouldn't be supporting the organizations who are keeping the children clothed and fed. Shouldn't we reward them for doing something right? Phaya Thai is one of the nicest organizations I've visited in the region - and for better or worse, I decided it was the right place to deposit Ruth's duffle.

So, I manage to find the Phaya Thai address on the Web. Even locate a phone number. I jot the info down on a piece of paper and set out, having sorted the goods the night before (a few men's shirts and a handful of paperbacks were culled, as they'll be going elsewhere). It's a little after 8 a.m. On my first visit, Bangkok native Anoti did all the navigating. We'd loaded up her car at one of the ubiquitous Tesco/Lotus stores in town - and she drove directly to Phaya Thai. This time I was on my own. I hail a cab and give him my best "Baan Deck Orn Phaya Thai," showing him the written address. He seems to understand - and as I know the general direction of the place, I'm satisfied when he sets out in the right direction. We hit Rama VI Road, and I begin scanning addresses. "Very close," I say as the address nears. My driver, I learned soon after hopping aboard, knows very little English. And despite a number of stops in Thailand, my Thai does not go beyond food and subway lingo. ("Sur thani pow pai Sukhomvit, Sukhomvit. Rot chait wan ra mecka wan kanap gap ot scrot." I dare anyone who knows Thai to decipher that!) So there's a bit of a communication gap we're working through.

The addresses count down - and suddenly, right as we're about to hit what would seemingly be the spot, we are greeted by a mammoth vacant lot. There are trucks hauling dirt around. Not a good sign. I glance down at my paper, look up at the driver. He doesn't seem to pause or even understand that I think this might be the place. Looking around at the flyway on my right, the intersection up ahead - it feels right. I hadn't paid close attention last December - but I have a hunch we're in the right spot. Could it be that Phaya Thai just up and moved? I saw no hint of that last night when I Googled the place. Driver continues on. I say - in English - that I think that might've been it. He stops the car and grabs his mobile, dialing the phone number I have written down. Hangs up. Hmm. He fidgets around a bit and then dials another number. He says a few words, then hands the phone to me:

Me: Hello?
Him: Wat-dee khap.
Me: Um, I try get to Phaya Thai Babies' Home. Orphanage. Rama VI Road.
Him: What? Where you go?
Me: Phaya Thai. Baan Deck Orn Phaya Thai. Children.
Him: Phaya Thai... What hotel you go?
Me: No, no hotel. Home for children. Kids. No parents.
Him: What hotel?
Me: No hotel. Baan Deck Orn Phaya Thai (I'm slowly realizing this is pointless).
Him: No hotel? Oh. No hotel. Let me talk taxi driver.

I hand the phone back. A moment later, after a chuckle from my driver, the conversation is over and we continue on. A block further, and I'm sure we've gone too far. The addresses indicate as much - and it just feels like we missed the place. I say something to the driver. He pauses again, looking at my piece of paper. Though this is about the forth time he's studied it, he pulls out a pair of glasses for the first time. Punches numbers into the phone again - and hands it to me. I am greeted by a recording in Thai. Hmm? Is that a "Hi, you've reached the Phaya Thai Babies' Home. Please leave a message so we can arrange to meet you and accept your generous donation." - OR - is it a, "We're sorry. You've reached a number that has been disconnected. Don't bother trying to dial it again." I hang up, not hearing a beep welcoming my message.

I hand the phone back - again. Driver now grabs the piece of paper and hops out. He wanders over to a Thai gentleman slurping down his morning noodles. They proceed to discuss - for perhaps five minutes - the Phaya Thai Babies' Home or whatever it is they decide is written on my sheet of paper. I remind myself that despite the fact that many of the signs here are in English, not everyone is familiar with the characters. I had no Thai script to show the driver... I manage a, "Yes? No?" as my driver returns and settles back into the car. "No," he responds without further explanation. Hmm... Not knowing what to do, I figure I'll head to Khaosan Road. Though I rarely venture over to that part of town these days, Khaosan is the place to be if you're a backpacker in Bangkok. It's a zoo. It's also where English-speaking taxi drivers hang out. So... "To Khaosan," I say. "Oh. Khaosan. Ok. Khaosan Road." And we're off. Of course, by this time it's well after 9:30 - and Ruth's large red bag remains at my side.

The whole way to Khaosan, I'm wondering what to do. Do I hop out and ask other drivers to get me to Phaya Thai? The Lonely Planet Thorntree post seemed to imply that all one needed to do was utter "Baan Deck Orn Phaya Thai" and the drivers would whisk you away to the orphanage. So I had that option. Problem was, I had a hunch the place had in fact moved. Perhaps it would be better to visit an Internet cafe and either confirm the location of Phaya Thai or find another orphanage. There must be dozens in the area. But then, I do that, and I'm forced to lug Ruth's THOUSANDS of pounds of vitamins around. And all I really want to do in life is walk down Khaosan Road on a sunny day lugging a huge red duffle. I'd be drenched instantly. We arrive at Khaosan before I've completely made up my mind. Perhaps I should just dump this bag on the side of the road, I think. Somebody will find the vitamins. Nope. Can't do it. How would I explain that to Ruth?

I should mention that on hopping out of the taxi, I handed over a full 170 baht for our journey around town. Other than trips to the airport, I have never paid as much for a cab in Bangkok. Though it's not that much money at home (a bit over $4), it makes a dent when I'm in my penny-pinching mode abroad (which I am at present). My very comfortable room in Bangkok runs 200 baht a night. I kick myself thinking back to the sweaty walk the day before. Lotta good it did me to save 56 baht yesterday afternoon...

I am let off around the other taxis - but feel a bit hesitant to just hop into another cab and try again. There's a phone across the street - so I drag the duffle over, deposit my coins, and dial the number. This time, I am able to manipulate the language - and learn that indeed, the number has been disconnected. I double-check the digits, eliminating country code and adding a 0 to the city code. Seems right. Hmm... Plan B? I look around. Directly opposite me is a Tourist/Information Bureau. Worth a try, I think to myself, and lug the bag back across the street. Walking through the door, I don't see an obvious place to begin. There are a few people inside, but... Glancing down at my paper, I am addressed by a sharply-dressed woman heading out the door. "May I help you?" she asks. "Uh, maybe. I go Baan Deck Orn Phaya Thai." (My tense-less, article- and adjective-free English, I quickly learn, is unnecessary with this woman.) "Oh, that's on the other side of town," she responds. "You're in the wrong area. You'll need to get a taxi." "Yes, I know. But I just came from there in a taxi. My driver couldn't find it. Maybe it moved? You know the place?" "Oh yes, Baan Deck Orn Phaya Thai." "Are you sure it didn't move?" She is, and her certainty convinces me. I sigh, relieved. "Good. I'll just find another taxi." I walk out, the woman at my side. We both hail taxis before I realize she is only there to communicate for me. "Baan Deck Orn Phaya Thai," she says to the driver, along with a few other instructions in Thai. After a quick pause, he nods his head. Alright. We're back in business. I shove the bag into the back seat, mutter a quick "khob kun khap" to thank the woman for her help - and we head out.

Back past the United Nations building for the second time this morning (it wouldn't be my last). Past Wat Benchamabophit, Chitralada Palace - and on our way to Rama VI Road. Suddenly, though, my driver pulls into a driveway. I quickly protest, "No. Rama VI Road." "Moment," he says, pulling in anyway. Oh, no, I think to myself. Here we go again. After several minutes talking to a guard outside - oh, where are we anyway - he hops back in and pulls further into the driveway. Leaps out again, approaching someone else. They talk briefly - and I see my driver's cohort motioning toward the other side of the road, opposite an intersection. I begin to study the area. Oh. That's the intersection with Rama VI. I jump out of the car, walk twenty meters forward, and look across the road - into a mammoth empty lot!

So, the fella engaging my driver explains that Phaya Thai has moved. He speaks a bit of English and attempts translation for us. Quite friendly, he explains that Phaya Thai is now "long way outta city." Hmm... "But driver take you." They converse in Thai. "500 baht. Expressway." No, I think to myself. I'll find another place. That's too much - and I haven't a clue whether my driver really knows where we'd be going. "No, too much," I say. More words in Thai. "400 baht," our mediator offers.

Now, the seventh of Ryker's Rules of the Asian Road suggests that one should never carry more than about $10 worth of the local currency in an easily accessible pocket. There are numerous cases where you don't want to have that bill worth $25 in your hand. This being one of them, I had fortunately followed my own rule and was able to pull out everything I had, completely emptying the pocket. "Only 340 baht," I say. "No more." After a bit more discussion, it appears the price is acceptable. My interpreter: "He take you Phaya Thai. Back Khaosan. 300 baht. Tollway." Hmm... I attempt to ask how far, how long - and get no decipherable answer. Well - the day is moving along. I don't have a second orphanage in mind. Might as well. "Ok. We go." And so, we go, translator smiling and waving frantically as we pull away.

At this point, I'm beginning to chuckle to myself. Another day in Southeast Asia! As we hop on the expressway, I am greeted by strains of a familiar song on the radio. No, is that Keane? It is. "Bend and Break" - coming right at ya from Radio Bangkok. But - this is Thailand - and they're an obscure British band... Doesn't matter. Globalization. It's Keane... My driver is cruising - and I have no idea how far we're about to go. For 300 baht, I figure, it cannot be too far! The further we get, the more I begin to contemplate what I'll do should we actually arrive at Phaya Thai Babies' Home - or any other similar place for that matter. Can I really just show up with this giant red duffle full of vitamins and Hot Wheels, drop it off, and leave? Will they think I'm crazy, coming all this way with a bunch of Hot Wheels? I don't mean to marginalize Ruth's generosity. The vitamins will be put to use - and my back suggests they'll last awhile. Clothing is always good, and Hot Wheels are a can't-miss hit with the kids in the region. (Ruth, I even siphoned off a half-dozen to give away to children of my own choosing further down the road.) Still, it's a long way to go - and I recalled feeling on my first Phaya Thai visit that our carload of food was just a drop in the donation bucket. So I prepared by having my super-secret stash of cash ready...

As it turns out, the 300 baht gets me pretty far. We remain on the expressway for 20 or 25 minutes, paying the requisite tolls, before my driver finally pulls off. Not three minutes later, and without even the remotest hesitation, we pull into the largest and most immaculate orphanage I've ever seen. It's the new Phaya Thai Babies' Home (they even have the apostrophe in the right place now!). And whoo boy, do I hope they need a few dozen Hot Wheels. I grab my camera, take a couple of building shots knowing the organization forbids pictures of the children, and lug the bag inside. I am greeted by bashful smiles from a pair of female staff members. I open the giant red duffle (did I mention that it's large?), grabbing vitamins and Hot Wheels. More giggles. Escorted to another room, I am quickly offered water and begin filling out forms. I make up my mind to go with the secret stash of cash, despite knowing that what I have to offer probably wouldn't pay for a half dozen tiles on the floor beneath my feet. The forms are entirely in Thai. One of the attendants knows a bit of English and attempts to translate. Donor name: Ruth XXXXXXX. I am told to append "Mr." to the name. "No, Mrs. Not me. My friend." For address, I provide just the name of Ruth's home town, Washington, and USA. I then provide an inventory of donated items and tack on 1000 baht. (Before I am lambasted for donating just $25 to this organization, remember that I am staying in $5 guesthouses and spending $5 a day on food. That's all the money I had on me at the time, and it's more than I often carry. Ignore, too, the fact that I am in Starbucks all too often when in Bangkok...) Now, I'm hoping whatever I signed bearing Ruth's name was in fact a receipt and not a pledge to donate 1000 baht a month. Regardless, I get everything down...

Meanwhile, my driver is pacing around the car outside. The English speaker points this out, and I run out begging for a few more minutes. I get a quick tour of the facilities - but not wanting to delay my driver (and unable to offer him more cash) - opt not to stay and play with the kids as I did with Anoti and Ananth. That said, I can say, Ruth, that Phaya Thai seems to be taking excellent care of its children. Your vitamins will be put to use - and we coulda used a few more Hot Wheels! As expected, they were a hit - and Phaya Thai is home to over 300 children.

Back in the cab, we head out. The drive back is long, but I am not displeased. I still have to deliver the men's shirts to a group of homeless fellas beneath the Rama VI flyway. But in the end, Ruth's goods will all be in the hands of people who need 'em. And there are, as I tap out these words, kids playing with gleaming-new Hot Wheels. So, mission accomplished. Perhaps it took up more of the day than I'd planned - and it probably won't change the world - but if nothing else I got rid of the giant duffle!

As I get out of the car on arrival at Khaosan, it's well after noon. I chuckle once more as my driver - who could not converse at all in English - is mouthing the words to Green Day's "Wake Me Up When September Ends." He may not understand a word of it, but that doesn't deter him a bit from singing along!

(Thank you, Ruth, for your donation. And folks, is it any wonder I don't get more of these things written while on the road? Pithy I am not!)

Up-to-Date Phaya Thai Info (& Address!) | LP Thorntree Post | Keane