BANGKOK BY BOAT

A gleaming bronze Buddha, larger than life, sits in the back of a brand-new Toyota pickup stuck in a fuming snarl of taxis, tuk-tuks, trucks and motorcycles. Ten feet below, on the canal beneath the bridge, our sleek long-tail boat zips through a watery canyon of trees and old teak bungalows.

Our wake slaps against the mossy roots of banyan trees and up a stump to a little shrine draped in garlands of jasmine and marigolds. The long-tail driver, sitting sideways at the stern to see around the gondola-like bow, slows to a stop, nudging against a tiny wooden landing. A woman and young girl get on. The agile ticket taker makes her barefoot way along the rail. Balancing beneath the canvas awning, she makes change while managing a pleasant smile.

It is an exhilarating 20-minute cruise from Bangkok’s Hualamphong railway station--where my travel companion, Maria, and I arrived by train from the airport--to the Chao Phraya River at Banglamphu. This route slices through the very heart of the city, unaffected by Bangkok’s notorious gridlock. A city of 8 million, with confused and chaotic streets, Bangkok’s traffic problem is one of the worst in the world. Rush hour averages less than 5 mph, and the situation worsens every day. In 1995, 500,000 new vehicles hit the city streets--an average of nearly 40,000 per month. The 4,000 extra police assigned to traffic duty earlier this year have had little effect.

Fortunately for the visitor, Bangkok’s traffic can be easily avoided by using the waterways. The Chao Phraya River is not only Bangkok’s main artery, but also its primary showcase. Much of what makes this city the most exotic and exciting capital in Southeast Asia lies on or walkably close to the river.

And on Nov. 7 of this year the Chao Phraya (“River of Kings”) will be the setting of a royal barge procession to celebrate the 50-year reign of King Bhumibol Adulyadej, the much-loved ceremonial head of state who is the world’s longest-reigning living monarch. Fifty-two hand-carved longboats, manned by 2,082 oarsmen in historical uniform, will proceed in traditional naval formation down the Chao Phraya. Many of the boats in the flotilla date from the Ayutthaya Period (1350 to 1767), named after the city that was the country’s capital before Bangkok.

Boats along the river, or through the hand-dug canals called khlongs, have always been the traditional means of getting around Bangkok. Nineteenth-century Bangkok was called the “Venice of the East” and the city, born on a bight in the Chao Phraya nearly 215 years ago, didn’t get its first paved road (Charoen Krung, better known as New Road) until 1863.

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Touring Bangkok by boat, the city returns, in countless unexpected ways, to those slower, quieter times. On the water you touch the unchanged roots of this unique Asian capital that still thrive among the high-rises and clogged streets. The secret of Bangkok is just this: Stay on or near the river. Room choices range from $2-a-night Banglamphu guest houses in the northern sector, to spectacular suites at the Oriental or Shangri-La hotels in the south.

Centrally located on the river halfway between the two, Chinatown retains the character of old Bangkok. After a quick downriver ride from Banglamphu, we check into our usual Chinatown hotel.

After our 21-hour journey, jet lag soon catches up with us, and we retire early. The sonorous “chuga-chug” of a passing tugboat wakes us just before 5 a.m., and sunrise finds us strolling out into the neighborhood for coffee. Chinatown is a self-contained rabbit warren of pedestrian lanes containing countless “shophouses,” food stalls, street markets and secluded temple courtyards. It is more a complex, layered web of culture and commerce than a mapable grid. It has not been Westernized for the tourist. Chinatown works hard: selling, sorting, shipping, cooking, living, worshiping.

A man sweeps the alley with his big bamboo and straw broom. Motorbikes with large baskets of goods ease past the food vendors setting up for the day. On Songwat Road, the exporters already sit at their desks, surrounded by fragrant sacks of spices. We turn in on San Jao Kao Alley. Trolleys of cooked duck clatter past. People sit at tiny tables eating their morning rice or noodles and drinking small bottles of ginseng.

At an intersection of lanes we buy some bananas fried in coconut oil (5 Thai baht a bag, about 20 cents) and take these to a table near the coffee man. He filters the coffee and fills the glasses with the panache of a circus juggler. As we sip our coffee, the warm river mist rises and the dawn picks its way deeper into the alleys.

After our little breakfast, we meander vaguely back toward the river between silk garment merchants and Taoist temples. Birds sing from bamboo cages over doorways of narrow houses. In an alley called the Thieves’ Market, we buy a bag of litchi nuts from a cart vendor. As he is making change we get caught up in a small stampede. Carts and panicked vendors--presumably unlicensed--scatter before a pair of policemen nonchalantly walking down the lane.

A few minutes later our litchi man catches up with us to give us the rest of our change. When we sign that he can keep it, he pushes another full bag of the sweet fruit into our hands. Munching away, we exit onto Ratchawong Road, only 100 yards from the express boat stop.

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A northbound express boat (a large water taxi with designated stops) pulls in, churning water and rocking the floating dock. As it snugs its rear end against the tire bumpers, passengers disembark and we hop aboard. Most of the local commuters go below to look for a seat, but we enjoy standing against the back railing with the warm wind in our face and the city’s skyline in full view.

The ticket-taker wedges her way among the new passengers, clicking her coin cylinder. Prices are 3 to 7 baht, (less than 30 cents) depending on distance. We’re stopping off at Wat Po. “Four baht,” she says. These express boats--Bangkok’s only viable mass transit system--run from Krung Thep Bridge south of the city all the way to the neighboring province of Nonthaburi, about 45 minutes north.

The Chao Phraya, about 200 yards wide as it runs through the city, bustles with colorful traffic. Giant tugboats strain along, towing half a dozen sand barges and a couple of sampans. Along the shore, ultramodern high-rises look down on gilded temples. Warehouses of weathered teak and rusty tin, their wharves covered in racks of drying fish, give way to royal riverside residences.

Under the Memorial Bridge (Bangkok’s first, built in 1932), we stop at a busy pier. The long-tails lining this pier regularly run up Bang Waek Khlong on the Thon Buri side of the river (Thon Buri is Bangkok’s sleepy sister-city). For 10 baht (40 cents) you can cruise deep into the countryside to see temples, orchid nurseries and rural Thai life.

The pleasant open-air restaurant next to the Maharat pier has a full Thai menu (with such temptations as “serpent’s head soup”). It also offers a great view of the 250-foot spire of Wat Arun (Temple of the Dawn), possibly Bangkok’s most recognizable landmark.

If you take one of the charming little wooden ferries that cross back and forth all day from the pier (the fare is only 4 cents), you can climb to the top of the Wat Arun pagoda. Iron handrails wrapped with cord make the steep stairs more secure, but it is nevertheless an unnerving ascent. The reward, however, is a fine vista of Bangkok and the Grand Palace just north across the river.

At Tien Pier we jump off for Wat Po. Old even before the city began, Wat Po is one of Bangkok’s most visited monasteries. Most people come here for the gigantic gold-plated reclining Buddha--50 feet high and 150 feet long--with soles of inlaid mother-of-pearl.

The crenelated walls of the Grand Palace stand just a stone’s throw north of Wat Po. If Mad King Ludwig had been king of Siam, his fevered fancy might have conceived something like this. Giant gate guardians, 30 feet tall, sparkle with inlaid mirrors and sport purple skin. Golden creatures, half woman and half deer, stand poised before gilded temples.

Covering one square mile, this glittering dreamscape of Thai art and architecture--built in 1782 by King Rama I--in itself justifies a visit to Bangkok. The palace walls also harbor the legendary Emerald Buddha. Discovered in the 15th century (when lightning split open an old pagoda), its origins are unknown. Sitting on a mountainous altar in its own temple, the diminutive green carving is the single most sacred and priceless object in the kingdom.

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But during our most recent visit last July, we pass on the palace and instead stroll through the riverside market near the Grand Palace’s express boat landing. We buy some tasty, broiled chicken-on-sticks and look over the curios and carvings displayed under the trees.

At this dock, half the people waiting for the northbound express boat are Westerners, and all are going the same place we are: Banglamphu, Bangkok’s base for budget travelers. Our boat makes a couple of quick stops on the other side of the river, then crosses under the Phra Pinklao Bridge to Phra Arthit Pier.

Flanked by a stream of backpackers, we walk to Khao San Road, Banglamphu’s main drag. This two-block-long street is chock full of travel agencies, guest houses, bulletin boards and restaurants that run “Terminator” videos. Covered street stalls are so densely packed they turn the sidewalk into a tunnel.

Bric-a-brac from Nepal, Indonesia, Burma, India--even Thailand--fill the displays. Vendors sell slick-looking fake ID cards (Press Pass, Student) made to order. Pirated audiocassettes with authentic-looking cover art cost just $2 each. Rock ‘n’ roll blares from the speakers.

Near the end of the street we duck into our usual travel agency for tickets to our next stop on this trip, Cambodia. Business concluded, we find a quiet place for lunch (lemon grass and prawn soup) and discuss what to do with our free time--sitting in a gridlocked meter taxi not being an option.

We decide to pay a visit to Jim Thompson’s House--by long-tail. Then tomorrow we’ll treat ourselves to a real river cruise--aboard the Oriental Queen.

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It was Easter Sunday in 1967, while visiting friends in Malaysia’s Cameron Highlands, that 61-year-old Jim Thompson--the colorful American ex-serviceman who single-handedly revived the Thai silk industry--apparently stepped outside for a stroll and disappeared without a trace.

Thirty years later the mystery remains. The house he left behind, a charming arrangement of old Thai architecture and antiques, is now a Bangkok museum with guided tours (proceeds to charity). There is no mystery about where his house is. But how do we get there by water?

Our map shows “Jim Thompson’s” sitting on a squiggly blue line representing Maha Nag Khlong, one of the few large east-west khlongs left unpaved in the city. Somewhere amid the maze of streets, that khlong must intersect Banglamphu Khlong. But it isn’t visible on our map.

“Easy,” says Maria, counting the streets which cross the khlong. “Somewhere near the sixth bridge, we have to get off and change khlongs.”

A brightly painted long-tail is tied up at the end of Banglamphu Khlong next to a little maintenance hut on the landing. After waiting while the driver nets minnows for his pet duck, we whoosh off.

Near the sixth bridge we get out and cross over to a rickety pier that feels abandoned. Nothing seems to move along this khlong, which was dug 200 years ago. Maybe it isn’t used anymore, we think. Just as I’ve about given up hope, a long-tail boat slides around the bend and swerves over to pick us up.

We cruise east until we reach the third bridge, distinguished by its elephant head carvings. A sign at the landing reads “Ratchathewi.”

We find Jim Thompson’s on the khlong at the end of a quiet old-fashioned lane. An English language tour is just beginning. Leaving our shoes below, we pad up the stairs in single file. Floor, walls, ceiling and furniture are all a dark, oiled teak. Art abounds. Jim Thompson obviously enjoyed collecting Buddhas. In a hallway off the drawing room, our guide points out a particular statue that sits, unlike the others, on a very low table.

“This is not good,” says our forthright guide. “Buddha should always be placed so your head is not above the Buddha’s head. Buddhist people think Jim Thompson disappeared because he did not pay respect correctly to the Buddha.”

“Well, that solves that mystery,” Maria whispers.

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The next morning we take a southbound express boat to the famous Oriental Hotel. It offers daily river cruises to Ayutthaya, the ancient capital of Siam, 45 miles up the Chao Phraya River. One can either go up by boat and return by air-conditioned bus, or vice versa. It is suggested to us that we bus up and boat down, to avoid the evening rush hour traffic.

Miss Apsinyan, our efficient Thai guide, gets us settled on a luxury bus for the 1 1/2-hour drive. As we enter the extensive brick ruins, she gives us a pert overview: “Ayutthaya had no streets, only khlongs. The people dug these so they could paddle and visit their neighbors. When the capital was moved to Bangkok in 1782, King Rama I built the Grand Palace to look like the one at Ayutthaya. He also had khlongs dug, all like Ayutthaya. . . .”

The tour pace is anything but leisurely, however, and we have little time to explore on our own. By 1 p.m., we are hungry and sweaty. As we board the double-decker Oriental Queen cruiser, we feel like we’ve fallen into heaven: air-conditioned luxury, uniformed waiters, attentive bartenders. An immense buffet of Thai and Western foods beckons between bouquets of orchids.

Drinks are served as we start down the river without the least sensation of motion. The shoreline slides past the tableside windows, but hardly anyone is looking. It is all food, drink and conversation.

Lunch lasts until 2:30 p.m. or so. Afterward, we go topside for the view. We pass isolated teak houses perched on stilts, fishing boats with triangular nets, and golden-gabled temples, all with wide stretches of rampant tropical nature in between. Feeling like royalty, we drift merrily along, periodically plying ourselves with cakes and ice cream.

At half-past three, 15 miles north of the Oriental Hotel and still very much out in the rural countryside, we see our first Bangkok express boat. “This is their northern limit,” the unobtrusive guide on deck informs us. “And it’ll cost you just 7 baht [28 cents] from the Oriental to here.”

As we enter the city (“On your right we have the Shed of the Royal Barges . . .”) and the familiar though always exotic skyline of Bangkok envelops us (“. . . on your left the Grand Palace. . . on your right the Temple of the Dawn . . .”), we sit back in perfect contentment, pleasantly exercised and embarrassingly stuffed, easing, once again, through Bangkok by boat.

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GUIDEBOOK: Bangkok Waterways

Getting there: United, Northwest, Cathay Pacific, Thai Airways, Japan Airlines, China Airlines and Korean Air offer connecting flights from LAX. Advance-purchase fares begin at $1,208 round trip.

Getting around: Express boats operate between 6 a.m. and 6 p.m.; use an air-conditioned, metered taxi at night. River cruises to Ayutthaya are operated from the Oriental (we paid about $48 per person) and Shangri-La hotels, and the River City Shopping Complex.

Where to stay: Many budget guest houses, with basic but clean rooms ($2-$10), are found in the Banglamphu area. Try Merry V (telephone 011-66-2-282-9267) or Peachy Guest House (tel. 011-66-2-281-6471). We prefer the Chao Phraya Riverside Guest House (1128 Songwad Road, tel. 011-66-2-222-6344), near the Ratchawong express boat landing. Rate: $10 per room (thin walls, hard mattresses, but the water laps at the veranda). The Grand China Princess (215 Yaowaraj Road; tel. 011-66-2-224-9977, fax 011-66-2-224-7999) is “quirky, but great for the money” according to a businessman acquaintance. Double rooms start at $70. The Oriental (tel. 011-66-2-236-0400, fax 011-66-2-236-1937; doubles from about $250 and the Shangri-La (tel. 011-66-2-236-7777, fax 011-66-2-236-8566; doubles from $235) are consistently rated among the top hotels in the world.

For more information: Tourism Authority of Thailand, 3440 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 1100, Los Angeles, CA 90010, (213) 382-2353.

--C.D.