In the morning we left the safety of our
encampment and head out through the early morning din. The city is never quiet, but it is quieter than usual early in the day. The
train came. The train took us to Saphan Taksin on the edge of the
Chao Phraya river. We would take the boat.
Across the beautiful brown, garbage-filled waters we traveled. It was still early morning when we docked a few miles up-river,
Pom Prap Sattru Phai. We wended our way through the morning markets, selling the wares, hawking their drinks and delicacies, pushing their fried insects. The smell was strong. We continued.
There is something exciting about the Bangkok streets when the vendors have set up. The sidewalks bustle with voices, haggling, inviting you to haggle, imploring you to haggle, haggling and haranguing. Haggling in Bangkok, other parts of Thailand, and indeed I am sure in any region of the world where goods and services have their prices bargained upon instead of merely stated and agreed to, is a wonderful experience. It is a dance. When you return home the desire to not merely settle for the given price sticks with you.
We saw a few temples that morning. We had seen many temples in the past few days, including a large scale model of
Angkor Wat at the royal palace the previous day. We continued.
We arrived at our destination just when the sun was directly overhead.
The Golden Mount. We saw the memorial sites blanketing the hillside, Thais are by and large Buddhists and when they shuffle off this mortal coil, they aren't buried but cremated. There wouldn't be enough room for the dead amongst all the living.
We passed the tuktuk drivers, the taxi stands, the souvenier shops. As we found the stairs I saw a man circling our group on a bi-cycle. I thought nothing of it. A local catching an extended glimpse of four
farang including one who was rather tall, especially in relation to the average Thai man, and topped with blondish hair and a reddish beard. We began our attempt on the mount.
There was a spring in the midst of the monuments, and we stopped to take in its serene drippiness. Suddenly I felt myself seized in the moment. Not by the beauty of the scene, but literally seized by the arm. I believed myself to be mid-robbery, and I turned and looked, ready to engage in fisticuffs to protect my
Baht and the Baht of my comrades. It was the bi-cycle man.
In the mid-day light it was plain to see this small man had spotted his game, tracked it silently, and without word made his kill. My arm was no longer mine. He had hunted and claimed it fair and square. You do not quibble over trophies from the hunt. You simply congratulate the hunter and wish bitterly that you had a glass of Irish Whiskey, some shade, and a good book by Dostoevsky or Tolstoy. You would get your trophy eventually, surely. And your trophy would be even grander and more magnificent than the trophy of your rival hunter.
My greatest respect, O Mighty Thai Hunter. You have won the day. You have won the day.
Vanessa thinks it's because I look like a Buddha (a fact I cannot deny, what with my Buddha belly, cropped hair and ever-present jolly laugh), but would you
smack the physical representation of enlightenment
on the ass as you left your one encounter with him? I think not.
Thanks to
Marcus and the other people I stole pictures from.
See the video a post or so back. George, Elva and Marcus are my co-conspirators. I never got the name of my fan.
