Veteran Bartripper Dan hits the tiles with veteran Bangkok resident Jeffery Bergman for a tour of the city’s historic bars, plus a few up and comers.
7:15pm, Cheap Charlie’s, Sukhumvit Soi 11
Dan: As usual, I was running late for my drinking appointment with Jeffrey, and so elected to take a motorcycle taxi from Untamed Travel global headquarters to Sukhumvit 11. Now I’m no patsy when it comes to rice-rocket moto-taxis, but the jump over 10 air-con buses rattled me, not to mention the Taiwanese tourists on board. I was so rattled, in fact, that I gave not a murmur of protest when the madly grinning Evel “Pong” Knievel roared off with my hundred baht 20 bowel-shattering minutes later, leaving me installed at Cheap Charlie’s pale, trembling and clutching my beer. Jeffery, the bastard, was half an hour late.
Jeffery: Jumped off the BTS at 7:25 and made a sprightly dash to C.C.’s, after receiving Dan’s urgent SMS at 7:23 “Are you delayed?!” And yes, I was 30 minutes late, but then some of us do work for a living. The first surprise was that Cheap Charlie’s is not so cheap any more, Heinekens now being a whopping Bt60 each. An outrage! This place has been around for at least a few decades, and other than the prices, not much has changed. Good place to mingle with both new and long-time Bangkok expats, but remember, it is a true alfresco venue with barstools shuffled aside as cars squeeze through the soi, and only about four dry seats when the rain broke out.
8:55pm, Sin Bar, Soi Nana
Jeffery: On to another alfresco venue just as the rain reached monsoon intensity. Sin’s main long rooftop bar has a retractable canopy which is not quite wide enough to provide shelter from a full-blown Bangkok downpour, but thankfully, a combined undercover and indoor billiards/dining area provided a dry retreat. The décor is posh, modern 5-star hotel style and has a respectable menu. I recommend the Caesar salad. Best place on Soi 4 to impress a client or a date, but wait until the rain is finished to truly enjoy the place.
Dan: When Jeffery mentioned we were going to Sin Bar on naughty Soi 4, I immediately had visions of black leather-clad dominatrices cracking whips on the dance floor while raven-haired beauties writhed in cages like cats on heat. Booming music, lines of coke on the bar and the like. Well, not quite, as it turns out, but maybe we were there too early. The décor would support a sin-saturated party, all greys and blacks, but this night the place was gatecrashed by bucketing rain. I volunteered to nude up and dance about in the storm but Jeffery advised I spare him the sight of my willie or save the streaking for later when I could plead plausible intoxication.
10:50pm, Jool’s Bar, Soi Nana
Dan: Stepping out of Sin, I spied Jool’s across Soi 4 and decided it was a must visit. On the stools of this grubby little bar Stephen Leather claims to have done his research for Private Dancer, his Bangkok bargirl novel, probably the best one written about the scene, although it’s a matter of believable debate that he actually gathered his evidence first-hand. An Englishman far from home would find this place an oasis of culture and civilisation with its historic flags and emblems of empire (and football) as well as boasting an equally historic menu. The place has the feel of a church, a memory theatre for the natives of Blighty. But I’m not English, so the place came off as a crummy, jingoistic archaism – kind of like England itself. Sadly we didn’t get to meet legendary fat man Jools, but we did get to see his specially designed, reinforced barstool, nay, throne. Since we were the only ones in there, we thought it best to leave and let the sun set on this little outpost of empire.
Jeffery: Jools was obviously a very popular venue at one time judging by the photo history plastering the walls. Also instantly obvious are the severe wear and tear, and that distinct drunken wretch-infused seedy old bar aroma. It has been long been relegated to the status of the “local” for a few Euro-fossils and the occasional nostalgic visitor. The staff was friendly and nearly as old as the pub, so unless I am doing research on the history of Soi 4, I’m not likely to return.
11:35pm, Check Inn 99, 97/1 Sukhumvit Road
Jeffery: A decades-old establishment, this one with a live band, a small but well-used dance floor and three Filipina singers to liven up the place. Check-in, also known as Club 99, is another expat hangout with a decent restaurant, but after one drink and a few well-parroted Western tunes, we found ourselves more amused by the cockroaches scampering around the cracks in the table.
Dan: I’ve always wondered about this place, and now I know. Downstairs is an authentically styled tropical lounge from the late 60s, with cane furniture, potted plants aplenty, and dim lights. Kind of like the steakhouse your dad used to go to. I say authentically styled because there’s a very good chance that it was last redecorated in the late 60s. Although the repertoire of the band left a bad taste in my mouth they were surprisingly, well, accurate. Spookily accurate in fact, these Filipina canaries put me in the mind of Bangkok’s other spooky cover band, Better, that plays Beatles numbers more convincingly than Paul and Ringo could manage these days. Speaking of the Beatles, there were a bunch of little ones running about on the table that hastened our departure.
12:20pm, Det Five, Sukhumvit Soi Zero
Jeffery: Det 5 is usually the liveliest bar on Soi Zero (formerly Buckskin Joe’s Village). The beers are cold, the music great and the pool tables busy. However, the men’s room walls are the top of the scene, plastered with an ever-changing repertoire of Internet-exchanged jokes, quotes, sexual innuendos and general tomfoolery. The pisser alone is worth the visit.
Dan: Stopping on the way for a leak behind a conveniently parked Mercedes (what is it with public toilets in this country?) I reflected on the last time I ventured into Soi Zero. I had a rotten time and came out with a communicable disease, much to the delight of the girls at my local clinic who like nothing more than sticking a needle in my bum then giving it to me in the arse again when they hand me the bill. Patpong is sleazy, Soi Cowboy is low, Nana Plaza perverse, so what is Soi Zero, tastefully situated under an overpass and beside railway tracks? Bad feng shui for sure. Still Jeffery seemed to know his way around so I knew I’d be in good hands, whose ever they happened to be.
1:10pm, Soi 1, Sukhumvit
Jeffrey: Billed as an “after hours club,” this rooftop establishment has tried to put on a classy front with colour-change mood lighting, river-stone walls and a misty jungle atmosphere. It was more like a 60’s rainforest imitation in rainy season, with overpowering mist-blowing fans, florescent paint on black velvet splatter art lit with black light (very Pollock), and cheap plastic foam mugs disguising some kind of stale beer ordered as Heineken. The police showed up promptly at 1:20am, the real lights went on and the music stopped. Two beers and a soda – 500 baht. I doubt I’ll be revisiting any time soon, but if I do I’ll be sure to bring my own beer and iPod.
Dan: I’d known that the rooftop bar on Soi 1 wasn’t doing the late night thing anymore and apparently so did everybody else since the place was empty. It was a far cry from the last time I’d come with a group of friends to be price-gouged for beer in a coffee cup when the place was alive with stinking drunks and desperate whores. Still it was nice and quiet. Another rooftop bar, the place is styled like a trendy warehouse with the mist fans lending it a rainforest feel. I kept expecting pygmies to pop up from the bushes and blow poison darts into the back of my neck. It had been a long and exhausting night of research and recreation and I was ready to call it a night. Bangkok boasts many fine bars but I had the feeling that we’d missed most of them tonight. Maybe it’s just me, but there’s always a niggling feeling that there’s a big party going on somewhere and I’m not invited; that the cool guys aren’t sitting in an empty rooftop bar getting the hairy eyeball from the police and drinking overpriced stale beer. No, they’re probably in New York tripping on E and absinthe, squeezing Paris Hilton’s boobs and talking about their latest exotic holiday. On the other hand though, Paris Hilton’s a dumb slag and living in Bangkok is like a holiday every day. It could do with a decent absinthe bar though.