There is a lot to do and see while on holiday, unfortunately shopping for souvenirs is part of the experience.

My dead brother’s mistress’ mother, who lives in London, asked me to bring back a set of salt and pepper shakers for her from Thailand as a souvenir. I thought that would be an easy one. All I’d have to do is pocket a set from the table of any restaurant I dined at while on holiday. But it turns out there is, or was, a market for small ‘collectible’ salt and pepper shaker sets that bear the name of pretty much any place in the world you may travel to. Because nothing says Bangkok like a pair of cheap ceramic table condiment holders made in China.

Since the first caveman brought home a human knucklebone he’d found while off attacking a neighboring tribe’s cave, souvenirs have been a popular part of travel. People like to have a physical reminder, a memento, of the places they’ve visited. Even if it has nothing to do with that locale. Like a set of salt and pepper shakers. And across the world, those who make their living from manufacturing or selling souvenirs have a long history of not coming up with a better mousetrap. Which explains those stupid wooden frogs that ‘croak’ when you run a wood dowel across their back that hilltribe ladies sell all over Thailand. Although admittedly that particular purchase has more to do with paying a bribe to be left alone than picking up a cherished reminder of your travels in the kingdom. And they still beat the occasional STD sex tourists return home with.

I’m not sure when, or who it was, that decided that stuff marketed as a souvenir had to be tacky, although I suspect the popularity of those salt and pepper shakers back in the early part of the 1900s had a lot to do with it. Nonetheless, tacky is the rule wherever touri gather. Like Patpong’s night market. Because, yes, knock-offs are tacky too. Clothing brands change at Patpong, but the ‘hand-crafted’ knickknacks that make up the bulk of the souvenirs for sale are the same stuff vendors have been selling for over twenty years. Although nowadays much of that crap is made in Vietnam. The market is filled with the kind of souvenirs that gets taken home and given a pride of place on the mantle, then moved to a spare room, then to a closet, then to the garage, and eventually your local landfill. That’s if it is a souvenir you bought for yourself. When you are stocking up on souvenirs for the folk back home, it gets worse.

At least there is someone happy about all of those wooden frogs that get bought as souvenirs in Thailand.

Whenever I traveled years ago I had a large management team, plus an admin staff, that I had to bring souvenirs home for. Tacky wasn’t the operative word, but inexpensive – okay, cheap – was. So they were often one and the same. On one trip we brought back those moldable faces made from balloons stuffed with some unidentified white powder they sell in Chiang Mai. They had nothing to do with Thailand, but were fun to play with and were a hit among my staff. Which probably tells you a lot about my hiring practices. After a few days, one by one, the damn things began to burst, shooting their innards all over the office. Which should have been embarrassing, but instead the staff started a pool on whose would pop next and little work got done with everyone sitting around watching the remaining balloon faces to see when the next would go and how big of a mess it would make. You woulda thought that’d taught me a lesson. Nope.

On a visit to New Orleans, we brought back voo-doo dolls. They were quite popular. And within an hour everyone had penned some other employee’s name on his or hers and busily began sticking pins in it. Interestingly, the women most often jabbed spikes into their victim’s heart, the men went for the groin. Which just goes to show you that even a tacky souvenir can be used as a team building exercise at work. But there just aren’t that many places in the world that have turned black magic into tourism dollars. And Customs has decided there are much greater dangers in the world anyway.

Obviously you are not suppose to return home with illegal contraband like items made of ivory. Little balloon faces filled with an unidentified white powder from an area of the world known for opium production probably isn’t a smart move either. And while size doesn’t matter to the folk at Customs, quantity does. You can bring home a knock off Rolex watch legally, but a dozen means you are trafficking in counterfeit goods. A small, tacky nightlight made from seashells is okay for yourself, a bag full requires you to have a wildlife import license. And while they should throw you in jail for bringing home one of those croaking frogs, they won’t. But may confiscate it or any other item made from local wood ‘cuz it may also contain local bugs that will quickly deforest your home country. I know that when you bring back souvenirs from your trip for family, friends, and co-workers, it’s suppose to be the thought that counts, but when that stuff doesn’t make it out of the airport, the intended recipients won’t think much of you.

Larb is a popular, tasty Thai dish. As a snack chip flavor, not so much.

I’ve never considered food to be a souvenir although I’ve returned home often enough with my bags full of some local treat that I wanted to enjoy back home too. I load up on small bags of spices from Cambodia to make AGOG with whenever I visit, and pounds of Bali coffee from Indonesia – the powdered version that leaves a mud-like 2″ thick paste at the bottom of your cup. I guess I don’t think of food as a souvenir because souvenirs are supposed to be useless. Though perhaps, if you ate something that you should not have and spent the next few days within running distance of your hotel room’s toilet a little reminder of why that was a stupid tourist trick might be in order. But according to a recent article I read, various pre-packaged snacks and foods topped the list for popular souvenirs from Thailand. And it wasn’t fried bugs as you’d assume. Larb-flavored biscuit sticks topped the list. I’m a fan of larb, but don’t know that the flavor of a raw meat salad is something I want as a munchy. But then that’s just me. Crispy durian chips also made the list, and that’s gotta be better than fresh durian even if it does miss the point – and experience – of eating durian.

Dried squid, the kind you can get from 7/11, is also a popular food souvenir from Thailand. I think they got that one wrong. I think they assumed packages of dried squid were being bought as souvenirs but were really intended as a travel snack among touri from Asian countries ‘cuz unless dried squid is something you grew up eating it’s not the kind of thing you’d fall in love with on a trip to a foreign country. Or even would try while there. Ditto for instant noodles, which also made the list. They sell instant noodles all over the world. So that’s not about being a souvenir, it’s about dinner for the first few weeks when you get home because you spent all of your cash and maxed out your credit cards buying souvenirs on your vacation.

The only non-food related souvenir on the list, surprisingly, was Naraya purses. I say surprisingly because I’m surprised anyone actually buys those things. I mean most people just ignore their elderly maiden aunts and don’t bring back a souvenir of any kind for her. Or her cats. Several years ago Naraya opened a branch in Patpong, a permanent store-front at the night market next to the bank that used to be a Boots that used to be a McDonald’s that used to be an open-air bar popular among ladyboys and the men who love them. They are tacky, so they fit the theme of the market, but I’d always assumed anyone who actually was gonna buy one probably had already done so while visiting Jim Thompson’s House. I dunno, maybe they make for a good bag to carry all of your dried squid home in. Because it can’t be that that many tourists have drag queens as friends at home.

If you have to buy souvenirs for your drag queens friends back home, forget the Naraya bags, there are more suitable mementos available.

I’ve visited Thailand so many times over the years that I’ve quit bringing souvenirs home for friends and family. If necessary, on one of these trips I’ll pick them all up replacement dowels for their little wood croaking frogs. But I still keep an eye open for the perfect souvenir from Thailand for myself, even though the perfect souvenirs I’ve found in the past have all ended up in the trash. Souvenirs are supposed to be a reminder of a place you visited, something that stirs your memories of the time spent there. And for me, photography does the same. Possibly even better. I don’t know that a wooden croaking frog will remind you of all the fun you had in Thailand as much as it will of the aggressive hilltribe woman you paid off to leave you alone. And for half the price, I’ve got a photo of one of those bitches, which is all the memories of souvenir shopping in Thailand that I need.

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I have to admit that when I first began visiting Thailand I steered clear of food from street cart vendors. Those wasted years I blame on the Chinese. My first visit to Asia was a pseudo-business trip to Hong Kong. We stayed in Kowloon where open-air meat markets are a common sight. And a common smell is the putridly rancid aroma of bloody carcases on display. I quickly learned to take a large, deep breath as soon as I saw one and then prayed I could manage to get well past the place before I needed oxygen again. That aroma permeated my consciousness, if not every block of the town, and the idea of eating anything that shared its setting didn’t sit well with me.

That food vendors in Hong Kong also seemed to have an abundance of still living creatures for you to pick from for a meal – especially since few were a species of animal I’d ever think to stick into my mouth – didn’t help matters. Besides, they have McDonalds in Hong Kong for a reason.

Several trips into my love affair with Thailand, we visited the Damnoen Saduak Floating Market and my issues with street cart food ended. My friend Ann, who is bigger on interacting with locals than I am, was captivated by the little old ladies paddling their dingy little dinghies along the river, most of whom were selling food of one sort or another. By now I think I’ve made it clear what my opinion of seafood is. And while a lot of what was on offer at the floating market was not fish, I just figured the safest bet was to label anything that came out of a boat as seafood. They have McDonalds in Thailand too, ya know?

But Ann had a history of giving me things to stick into my mouth (including an ex-boyfriend) and conspired with one of the boat hags, forcing me to try her wares in exchange for a photo op. Had I known then about the crazy old local woman on the bridge we encountered later that day, who’d flash her pussy for your camera lens at 20 baht a shot, I’d probably would have passed. But that’s hindsight for you. In any case, less exhibitionist inclined old woman in a boat managed to convey the idea that her treats were sweet, and being a fan of sugar, at 20 baht for three I gave them a try. Despite their neon color.

The rest is history. I now happily munch away on just about anything street cart food vendors sell (with the obvious exception of insects and the feet of any animal). Around breakfast time, one of my favorites is still those taco-looking treats that I first tried at the floating market. And if you are still trying to work up the balls to eat off the streets in Bangkok, they are the perfect culinary delight for your inaugural meal. They are called khanom buang, have been described by farang touri as looking like pancakes, crepes (and tacos), are available everywhere, and are really, really delicious. Even the version that counts as seafood.

Tooth-numbingly sweet, the gaudiest versions are made with a crispy rice flour dough as their base – cooked on a griddle – with the topping a dollop of coconut cream, or egg whites and sugar, and extruded duck egg yolks cooked in syrup (the neon yellow ones) or dyed, desiccated coconut (the neon orange ones). Eating either is kinda like mainlining sugar. So they are great with a steaming cup of strong black coffee (which is why you don’t find khanom buang at Starbucks).

There’s also a darker orange topping version of khanom buang made from a combination of minced shrimp, coconut meat, coriander, and black pepper, all mashed up with a mortar and pestle. But wait! There’s more! Stalls that specialize in khanom buang offer a variety of toppings, including raisins, sugared ginger strips, cilantro, green onions, sesame seeds, ground peanuts, garlic, and ground dried chilies. And just like at Burger King, you can have it your own way.

With a history that can be traced back over 600 years, khanom buang are meant as a dessert. But then since I usually have mango sticky rice for dessert I tend to consider the neon yellow ones as an appetizer, and the dark orange khanom buang – preferably loaded with onions and garlic with a heaping spoonful of chilies on top – as the main course. If I’m in the mood for Mexican food, I get a sprinkling of cilantro on top and call it a done deal.

Noom’s favorite khanom buang vendor is an old lady whose stall is at the Tha Chang market. She loads her’s up with shrimp to a point where the shrimp flavor overpowers the khanom buang’s traditional sweetness. So I’m not a fan. But she flirts shamelessly with Noom, and spends more time squeezing the muscles in his arms than cooking her food, so I guess that’s more than enough sweetness for him. And his ego. It doesn’t hurt that she always gives him an extra one for free either. Though I suspect that bit of generosity has a lot to do with the farang accompanying him paying for the meal at a ‘special’ price.

So if we are headed to the Grand Palace area, khanom buang are always on our agenda. When I spot a vendor elsewhere at different times of the day, Noom will chide me with, “Not luncht” or “Not dinner.” Which never seems to stop him from ordering a few for himself when I ignore his advice. I found khanom buang on the menu once at some hi-so restaurant we were dining at and ordered them, appropriately, for dessert.

They were bigger on presentation than on taste, though they still went well with my cup of expresso and Noom’s cup of sugar. They ranked pretty low on my “best khanom buang ever eaten” scale, but when Noom saw the two cost over 250 baht, he was quite pleased with them. Dining with Noom is often about feeding his ego too.

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Nothing is as enjoyable as reading a good book. Okay, almost nothing is as enjoyable as reading a good book.

Phil – that’d be my not a bar boy boyfriend, etc., etc., etc. – made for a great Santa Claus this Christmas, perfectly hitting the mark on both quantity and quality. My favorite gift was the one I opened Xmas morning; wrapped in our bed sheets, it was just what I wanted. Knowing the technogeek that resides within my soul, the other almost as much fun gift he gave me was a laser projection keyboard. Pounding away on a table top instead of a computer keyboard is almost as much fun as pounding away on his . . . well, you get the picture. Fortunately, prior to 12/25 he’d carefully maneuvered conversations around to subjects that would clue him in on how well gifts he was considering would be received. Otherwise I’d have had to acted pleased about the Kindle he’d been thinking of getting me. Which I probably would not have been able to pull off. But then I probably would have opted to pull off what little clothing he’d managed to put back on to open our gifts instead. So maybe next year.

I checked out Kindles when they first came on the market. And wasn’t impressed. As friends who are fans of the e-book readers have upgraded to the newest version over the years – and crowed about the newest features, which to me have all been stuff they should have got right the first time – I’ve had the opportunity to keep up with the technology. I’m still not impressed. It is not a better mouse trap. E-books are great for the publishing houses; there’s more profit in them than in books. And we may all be only reading electronically in the future. But like the hipsters of today who still hold true to listening to music played on records, I’ll still be hunting down the paper version of my favorite authors. You may say ‘old fart’ I’m gonna go with cool dude. Even at 90.

I read a lot. Like three to four books a week. Mostly fiction, but I enjoy biographies and history too. Not to mention the back of cereal boxes. Short of whoever Bill O’Rielly decided to kill next, I’ll read just about anything. That may not be quite as expensive as parachuting as a hobby, but a recently-released hardback or two, a few trade books, and a large handful of paperbacks a month can easily top out at over $500. And while there are some things I don’t think you should try to save money on – like bar boys – cutting your reading expense in half ain’t a bad idea. No problemo. Until the day books gets classified as collector items and antiques, used book stores are the perfect way to keep your reading expenses within reason. That’s assuming you don’t walk out of the store with $800 of previously viewed books in your bag.

I’m not a fan of the Kindle. Unless it’s being used as a prop.

One of the Kindle’s frequent upgrades has been on weight. But even the lightest version still weighs more than your average paperback book. At least until you’re talking quantity. And that doesn’t become a problem for me until I’m packing for a two week or longer holiday. A dozen books, even if they are all paperbacks, can add significantly to the weight of your luggage. I hate to admit it but I think one of the reasons I always include a few days in Chiang Mai when I’m visiting Thailand is because of all the used books stores there. A visit to The Rose of the North means I can get rid of the books I packed that I’ve now read, and stock up on enough reading material to get me through the rest of the trip.

Bangkok has used books stores too. There’s a decent smattering of them in Soi Rambuttri, just riverside of Khaosan Road. But that means making the trek over to Soi Rambuttri, which time doesn’t always allow for. Nor does Noom always allow for it either. Noom likes to go shopping with me. ‘Cuz that always ends up meaning shopping for him. With my wallet. But bookstores just don’t hold the same fascination for him as does say a gold shop. At best, he’ll find a guidebook I need to buy him. Which really is more about somewhere he wants me to fly him off to than it does finding out what to do once we get there. So when in reply to, “Where we go?” he hears “Soi Rambuttri,” I usually hear, “I stay at hotel.”

“Asoke,” on the other hand to him means there’s a good chance he’ll get to peruse the stores at the Emporium Mall. Which is cool with Noom even if there is a book store there. Not as cool is when I say, “Asoke,” but mean Dasa Books. When I turn and head for exit 4 at the Phrom Pong BTS Station instead of toward the mall I always hear an aborted attempt at correcting my mistake coming from behind me. Followed by a resigned sigh of defeat. No problemo. There’s a small cafe at the bookstore where he can have a cup of coffee to go with his mug of sugar. And he can sneak in a nap while waiting the hour or two it’ll take me to have my fill of perusing the aisles.

When they started sneaking Starbucks into Borders back in the U.S. I knew the chain was doomed. A bookstore is supposed to be reserved for the exclusive use of book lovers. Not people who don’t know bad coffee when they sip it. So you wouldn’t think my favorite used bookstore in Bangkok would be one with a cafe attached. But it works. And even adds to the place’s ambiance. Maybe that’s because there are plenty of coffee shops in town for those who don’t really like coffee. Dasa is not where they head. Thankfully. And those who do tend to sit quietly, reading their latest find. Other than Noom who’s busy catching up on his sleep. But more likely it’s because, despite a barista in attendance, the cafe is on the small side. Like two small, round tables with a total of three chairs. Which isn’t quite spacious enough for either Starbucks’ fans or the common but still odd sight frequently experienced at Bangkok coffee shops and fast food restaurants alike: the unemployed yet busily working local with books, notebooks, and newspaper spread across the table he’s claimed for a few hours as though Burger King really was meant to be someone’s office space.

Located on Sukhumvit between soi 26 and 28 and open daily from 10 am to 8 pm, Dasa Books is what a used bookstore is supposed to be. Or for that matter what any book store is supposed to be. Its door jamb becomes a threshold, a portal if you will, to another place; it’s like entering a spiritual building, where there’s a sense of reverence, an oasis of quiet tranquility filled with the vanilla scent of aging binding glue. And a pet bunny rabbit to boot (Um, I mean ‘in addition to’ not to kick. Which is a complete different type of entertainment and not one usually associated with a book store). With some 17,000 books on offer – mostly in English but with some in German, French, Dutch, and Italian too – the store’s brightly colored walls, light wood floors, and well-lit interior quietly redresses the balance of Bangkok’s noise with a tiny oasis full of solitude. And unlike its competition in town, Dasa’s stock is impeccably organized, making it easy to find what you are looking for.

Dasa’s claims to be the best secondhand book shop in Bangkok. And they’re right.

Also unlike many of the used book stores on Soi Rambuttri, there are no xeroxed books for sale at Dasa either. Its three floors may be packed with reading material, but the owners have been selective in what makes it to their shelves. Used books are their business, but they take great care that those books have only been used gently. And their stock turns over quickly enough that they’ve managed to avoid that musty aroma that many secondhand book stores take on.

Prices for recent paperback fiction run between 110 and 200 baht, which is a bit cheaper than the larger used bookstores in Chiang Mai charge. You can, of course, trade in what you’ve already read at Dasa too. With the caveat that any books you do trade in have to be in good to excellent condition. You’ll get a fair trade-in value in the form of credit you can use that day or in the future, and slightly less if you want to sell your books for cash. Note you also need to show a valid photo ID if you are selling your books for baht.

I’d hit Dasa’s without Noom more often, but his muscles come in handy for carrying my haul of books; the store’s selection and prices are good enough that I always end up buying more books than I need to last me through my trip. So yeah, I end up packing even more books in my luggage for the return flight home than I do heading out. And while Noom would prefer we’d spent our shopping hours at the Emporium Mall, getting to take an unscheduled nap gets a big thumbs up from him. As it would from any Thai. And after finishing at Dasa’s when I suggest stopping off at Benchasiri Park, just down the street from the bookstore, so I can spend a few more hours siting on the grass by the pond and reading some of what I just bought, the resigned sigh I get from him is just a bit less filled with frustration than the one my turning toward the bookstore originally elicited. Which probably has a lot to do with that meaning he’ll get to sneak in another nap again.

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