The journey: I was lucky to have got myself upgraded to the business class aboard the Thai airways flight from Delhi to Bangkok recently. But alas, the upgrade only entitled me to the lounge facility my traveling companion being my boss, a senior officer, whose eloquence, the smiling staff couldnt wish away at both the airports.

Finally, sipping vodka, and in the friendly ambience of a relaxed boss, the beginning was befitting for my mood, indigo with excitement to visit the country for the first time. Though orchids, I was told by a rich banya friend of mine who visited the place often, and Thai rum, were the two best things to watch out for, and brag about on return, but the steal of the trip lay beyond: the citys pulsating nightspots, a no tomorrow attitude and the transvestites of Alcazar at Pattaya, being some of the main attractions for the traveler.

Armed with these thoughts and stuffed with other less important tourism information- thanks to the abundant supply of chikna paper leaflets by the embassy- I downed two large vodkas, dreaming, to begin with, how to shake off my companion. Some thoughts, alas! Never change.

The flight: Through the smiles of the stewardesses, less plastic and more graceful, a turn into the economy section did my wish in, as I walked into the plane through the airway bridge, finally. The boss had turned the other way. Happy when settled, in the tiny seat, I discovered that part of my airspace was occupied by the bulk of an Indian passenger whose fat hung into my territory like wasted, spent wax. Pressing hard against it, I couldnt resist craning my neck to see beyond, on the other side. An attractive middle-aged lady speaking Spanish with her mother, I guessed- seemed less uncomfortable with the part of flesh that grew on her side. I then continued with my vodka, refusing to acknowledge the stinking, overflowing fellow passengers non-comical greetings, and contemplated whether or not to record in the complaint book that beyond a certain weight category, passengers should be bundled in the cargo hold. In the end, better sense prevailed and I was successful in avoiding the indecent misadventure. I guess, now, and wonder, however, if I was right.

No traffic lights: The swank airport at Bangkok was a treat for the eyes to chance upon. Amidst opulence and glitter, a jungle of duty free shops grew around, tantalizing, as usual, the poor buyer in me to thaw, and turning the existence of Indira Gandhi international airport into a wasteful memory. But arent we also improving ours, I admonished my good-foreign-bad-Indian thought.

Being participants in an international meeting at Pattaya had entitled us to a chauffeured drive and we did so in forced style, trying to spread our tiny existence in the back of the large car as best possible. Ahead of us, the driver, with pristine, white-gloved hands, propelled the machine smoothly over hundred miles an hour. No traffic lights blocked his intention- there werent any till Pattaya I would learn later, except several toll bridges- and strode, sipping cola from a glass kept at an easy reach. Indian drivers, I asked myself: how many more years before we can see such style and control on duty?

Alcazar: The transvestites of the Alcazar group (calling them girls wont be out of place; it is difficult to imagine them otherwise) did a fabulous show on the same evening by the poolside of the hotel I stayed in Pattaya. (The regular shows are done three times a day at a place close by and is one of the largest tourist attraction). It was the gesture of the host nation to enliven the evening. Through their effeminacy, they sang, danced, performed, charmed and made all of us ogle at their unmistakable feminine existence. In the end- regardless of our best guess of how many were men and how many women, a doubt nobody asked but had no clue about, I am certain- they won our hearts.

As the next three days crumbled, struggling to reckon the international officialese, it left me only with the option to continue with my wandering exploits in the evening. One day I struck gold- I thought so initially- when I sighted an Indian restaurant. It was called Alibaba and the manager there showed me photos of a lot of bollywood stars. There werent any that day- a peep inside also confirmed scattered presence of other few- and so I decided to continue gorging off the wayside Thai food. As it turned out in the end, the seafood rice soup or the noodle soup and the humble satay were certainly tastier, economical, and perhaps healthier option than anything else, Indian or otherwise

No houseflies: No houseflies, no insects and no mosquitoes- it was impossible to miss the tropical nuisance. And that too, despite vendors selling all sorts of insect enticing street food, huddled next to each other for kilometers without respite. The absence of these creatures was a welcome experience. It dispelled two myths- in tropics unless you air-condition eating and cooking area, no matter what you do, these insects will proliferate right under your nose; and also, in tropics it is not possible to sell food in open due to the dust and the grime dripping abundantly from the atmosphere. The Thais proved to me, it seemed, that cleanliness can also take care of all that. Myths dispelled, I wished our countrymen took Gandhijis advice more seriously: cleanliness is next to godliness. I think the time has come when we need to redo the packaging of the old saying to make its lustre penetrate the entire spectrum of our society. Anybody listening?

Giggles: Something happened at the ticket counter at Bangkok airport on my way back home that got the best of my thinking time aboard the three and half hour flight. The girl, at the check-in counter, wearing the freely-available-everywhere-more-than-plastic smile, reconfirmed if I was from India. Yes, I said, unashamed of the litter that waited back home to embrace me with open arms (come-on I have to say this). She smiled, and then covering her mouth with the back of a very sleek hand, that bore long milky fingers, she giggled, and finally broke into laughter. I checked my fly, just out of hunch, and resisting intimidation, smiled at the success of it. Then she signaled her friend at the next counter and she too action replayed. Confused, when done, I left the counter rather happy to distance from it. What I havent understood till now is, if her laughter had any funny bones in it or is I part of a comical Indian generation. I guess time will do the telling.

Things certainly (over here in India too) are changing real fast, and I dont want to deny it. But let me be frank in my admittance: there is a considerable distance to go before country of our size and unique cultural identity becomes the most favoured destination for the tourists, from its current position of being the fourth most favoured.