Grateful to have a voice

I never considered a difference of opinion in politics, in religion, 

in philosophy, as cause for withdrawing from a friend. 

-=Thomas Jefferson=-

As the presidential elections loom closer each day, and as Thanksgiving approaches and I see people posting about what they are grateful for in their lives, I want to take the opportunity to express my gratitude for freedom. Freedom to believe those things that I hold dear. Freedom to stand up for my values and thoughts about religion, ethics and in general, the world around me.

We should all be deeply grateful for and very aware of this incredible gift. Isn't it a beautiful thing that we can express ourselves and have a voice in this world? That we can stand for what we believe and change the very fabric of society?

And yet...as I scroll through Facebook posts lately, I am saddened to see so many people showing their disdain for this priceless give of freedom. Go ahead, campaign!! Share your views! Beat your chest if it makes you feel better! That is the point of America. It is the point of freedom. You get to be what you want to be and you can tell people what you believe, but for heaven's sake (and all our sake)...show some respect. I am shocked by the venom and anger I have seen in so many posts, particularly if someone makes a comment that contradicts whatever meme or thought has been posted. I made the mistake of making a comment on a post today that didn't fall in line with the person posting it's views. I was simply trying to point out that there are two sides to every story and I got blasted for it and told I could leave the conversation.

It might help us to remember that the very essence of freedom is that we all have it. We may not like other peoples point of view but we MUST respect it, or freedom is lost. 

In a world that beats the drum for tolerance, I find that people have becoming increasingly INtolerant. I have such a deep love and affection for my Facebook family. Over and over, I see friends state an opinion that others might disagree with and yet, I see people behaving respectfully and with kindness, at times maybe simply agreeing to disagree. However, I have seen many other posts that disintegrate into a vicious attack complete with name calling and foul language.

I have some bad news. What we all have, are opinions. Just that. None of us have 100% of the hard cold facts. We have opinions and it is a beautiful thing that we can share them and learn from one another, but the point is not to crucify anyone for their beliefs. That's already been done.

Can we maybe just try to reach the finish line of these elections with a little dignity and human kindness still intact? None of us like the word hatred, but honestly, I'm seeing a lot of it in peoples attitudes towards those who would question their ideas or beliefs. It's sad and it's ugly and we should be ashamed. 

Our goal for 2017 should be a global community of respect and reverence for freedom and the glorious kaleidoscope of opinions and personalities and thoughts that it provokes. You don't have to agree with everyone, you just have to believe that those who oppose you have the same right to their opinion and be as staunch in defending their rights as your are in defending your own.

The Things I didn't see...

I read an article once that said the more pictures people take, the less they remember about a given place or event. As a photographer, this seemed ludicrous to me. Surely, photographs help us to create memories! I know how valuable they are to people. I know how valuable they are to me!

But a few days ago, in Nepal, I think I finally understood. Derek and I were wandering through a huge market area in Kathmandu. The streets were lined with brass and incense, yak wool blankets,pottery and Gurkha knives. The small shops lining the street were crammed to colorful and chaotic capacity and above them, the upper floors of the building were adorned with interesting windows, doors and shutters. There was wood and brick and stone and plaster. I felt overloaded by the visual experience of it and framed and shot pictures almost frantically, trying to capture every inch of this exotic and fascinating place.

After several minutes of concentrating on my pictures, the thought occurred to me that I was here in Kathmandu, Nepal with Derek and I was barely paying attention to him as I concentrated on shooting. I stopped and lowered my camera and looked at the brass shop I had been photographing, then I looked at Derek. I mentioned the article to him and how maybe I really was missing a big part of the experience.

Derek looked at me and smiled an enigmatic little smile. I looked longer and realized It's one I've seen many times over the years and I knew exactly what it meant. It meant, "Oh good. You've finally realized (fill in the blank)". He's awfully good at letting me come to realizations on my own.

He looked back at the shop I had been photographing as I suggested that maybe I was missing something by focusing so much on taking pictures of our experience. He smiled bigger and said, "You mean like the smell of Jasmine in the air? Or the sound of the bells in front of the brass shop ringing in the wind? Maybe the glint of the sun on the brass platters?"

I just stared at him in awe of his perception. He understood. Even better than I had. So with my camera dangling from my fingers, we stood there and just looked at the shop and took in everything about it and I suddenly saw so much that I had missed initially. I...experienced the shop. We moved on and this time, walked quietly...slowly down the street. Absorbing.

I won't lie, I still took a few pictures...but less. Instead I took his hand and we wandered and we listened to the sounds and we smelled the Jasmine and we took in the total experience both of the city and of being together in such an amazing place.

A little further down the street we saw a Hindu temple. As we passed through the threshold into the small square we heard the overwhelming thrum of hundreds of pigeons. A woman was flinging out seed to them with a wide arc of her arm. The birds would cluster to eat and then some little thing would startle them and they would burst into the air all around us. Again I grabbed my camera excitedly and began shooting but then I looked at Derek and put it down again and just stood and absorbed the moment.

I experienced the collective cooing, the breeze created by so many wings flapping all at once and again...Derek. It was magical. Transcendent, and I think I wouldn't have realized that if I had just kept focusing on the ISO, f-stop, and shutter speed. 

I love photography. It is an amazing way for us to preserve memories, but they are one dimensional. The next time we travel or visit family or do whatever we are doing, I will remember to put the camera down more often and live right there in that moment and be with the people I am with, instead of trying to capture the surface experience quite so thoroughly.

Of course, that doesn't mean that I won't still post waaay too many of the pictures I did take;-)

I was mugged by a monkey...

In today's headlines! Monkey mugging thwarted by mild mannered maiden!

Well, there is so very much to say about today's activities, but I'm going to keep it short because I'm exhausted! It was an amazing day and we got to see lots of great sights!

We had a great breakfast in the hotel and even tried some of the local dishes.
Then we were off to explore more of Kathmandu.

First we hit a local market area. Every inch was a picture! The top floors of the building were rich with texture and color and style while the shops below were filled with beautiful brass and spices and clothes and...well...just about anything you could imagine!

We hired a car and driver for the day (Alhamdullilah)! Unfortunately, he was new to Kathmandu so really struggled to find his way around. In his defense, we didn't hire him as a tour guide, just a driver.

Our first stop was Swayambhunith, or The Monkey Temple, an ancient monument so called because of the sacred monkeys that roam freely there.

The Swayambhunath complex consists of a stupa, a variety of shrines and temples, some dating back to the Licchavi period. The stupa has Buddha's eyes and eyebrows painted on and is impressively large and golden.

We were surprised to find monkeys munching on wrapped candies that are left for them.

As long as you are cool about it, they will leave you alone. You must simply stand there and pretend not to notice them and they will come quite close, but make eye contact and you are on the naughty list!

On the temple grounds you will find huge Hindu Prayer wheels. Devotees spin them as part of their prayers. There was even one Giant one inside a building!

If you feel brave and decide to climb the 365 steps (one for each day of the year) you will find an incredible view of Kathmandu, but you will also find some truly incredible architecture. There are pillars and dozens of Hindu and Buddhist statues as well as a huge white dome with a large golden spire. And monkeys. Always the monkeys!

They are everywhere and they have the run of the place, though some of the locals are less enamoured of them than we were. One woman selling beautiful strawberries was clearly fed up with monkeys stealing her fruit. As I watched her, a large monkey edged closer and closer to her wares until she suddenly snatched a sturdy looking sling shot out of the folds of her skirt and let loose with a barrage of something that had the monkeys scattering.

I found a beautiful singing bowl that I had decided to buy and as I wandered amongst the Stupa, I dangled the blue plastic bag that held my bowl from my fingers. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a monkey hiding behind one of the statues. And YES! He was definitely hiding! As I passed, he reached out and grabbed my bag! Luckily, I had a firm grasp on the bag and his mugging attempt turned into a tug of war. I practically had to wrestle the little devil to the ground! Sacred monkey my...anyway. I won. I gave him a good scolding and told him stealing was bad. He looked quite indignant and with what was undoubtedly a slur against Americans squawked his discontent and ran off.

I thought we were done but I eventually caught on to the fact that he was following me! I would turn quickly around and there he would be, hand reaching for my bag. Of course as soon as I turned he would look away, all innocent like, but I was on to his game. Derek suggested that scolding a monkey that could potentially rip my throat out along with 60 or 70 of his pals was probably not a good idea, but I felt it was the principal of the thing really.

I saw another visitor get ambushed too. A monkey jumped him from above, swiped his bottle of water and bolted. The really impressive thing was that the monkey knew how to unscrew the cap.

There at the top of the hill it was beautiful. We were at about 5,000 ft and the view was incredible. Cool mountain breezes kept us cool and comfortable as we wandered. As always, there were vendors by the dozens selling everything you could imagine.

We spent quite a bit of time there and then found a great loval restaurant with amazing food and bottle soda pop.

After a very late lunch (can you even count it as lunch at 4:00?), we made our way through wicked traffic to Durbur Square, a part of town with a large temple where there was a considerable amount of damage from the earthquake. I was in a significant amount of discomfort because of bursitis but we had forgotten to bring Motrin.

As we sat in heavy traffic, Derek noticed a small pharmacy across from us and impulsively risked his life by leaping out of the car into traffic and darting between cars to the pharmacy, much to the confusion of our driver. We watched in awe as he purchased Motrin, otherwise know in 50+ circles as The Elixer of Life.

Standing at the outdoor counter of the tiny shop, he had to hunk to avoid hitting his head. I'm sure the staff were thinking "Even Yeti get aches and pains once in a while! I beamed at my Knight in Shining Armor and popped some Motrin. 

We finally arrived at our destination and jumped out for a look around.  It was clear that there had been terrible damage done by the earthquake. Even hear there were vendors selling their wares. Keya is the queen of the bargain and got us pretty amazing prices on some great souvenirs and then it was time to head home. We're calling it an early night as we are completely worn out from high altitude, lots of walking and having way too much fun!

Are We There Yeti?

17 March, 2016
What a day! Flying into Kathmandu was amazing. As we descended we began seeing the beautiful terraced hills and valleys. Graceful curves swirling around each hill in perfect symmetry.

Since it was only a one hour flight, our plane was quite small, so we landed further away from the airport and road a shuttle to the terminal. The first thing we noticed was air! Cool, breezy, semi unpolluted air! Hey, it's a step up from Dhaka.

Did I mention we are traveling with friends? We've sort of adopted the two single guys in our building. The fourth floor is Dana, and George, an FSO from Public Affairs is on five. He's a great guy with an adorable Bangladeshi girlfriend name Keya. George and Keya and Derek and I have all come together.

Upon leaving the airport, we found our driver waiting with signs bearing our names and the name of our hotel. With our luggage tucked in back of the van, we piled in and prepared to head for adventure! What we didn't realize was that the real adventure lay in trying to escape the parking lot!

You know those annoying little plastic games with the little squares you slide around trying to arrange them into a picture? I hate those games! That's what the parking lot was like. This car would inch forward a few feet and that one would slide in behind, and so on for a good fifteen minutes.
But I didn't really care because I had the window open and was already snapping pictures. We were surrounded by mountains. It was hazy, but I knew they were there.

We drove through the streets passing an insane looking amusement park with a deadly look Ferris wheel. It looked like something Tim Burton would design.

Like Dhaka, Kathmandu is alive with activity, thought the population is a lot let dense.
After months of living within less than a two mile radius (no really. We can't go outside of the diplomatic zone), it was amazing to see anything new and different.

We arrived at our hotel to find that while it was as beautiful as the pictures we had seen online, it had been badly wounded in last years earthquake. The front is covered in tarps and major repairs are going on. They have rearranged so that the front desk is around the side. Still, it's a beautiful and fascinating looking hotel and the room is great.

We got settled in and then...(drum role please)...we went out walking! You simply cannot understand the significance of that until you are not allowed to do it. It was liberating. We found a beautiful pool across the hotel grounds and vowed to go back later. For now, there was walking to be done.

Heading out onto the rocky and uneven street it was hard to tell whether the condition of the roads was due to the earthquake or just part of being in South Central Asia. There were definitely similarities to Dhaka, but we walked...and we wandered...and it was wonderful. 

We strolled through shops filled with cashmere and pashmina's and yak wool. There were beautifully carved statues of Ganesh and other Hindu Gods, amazing jewelry, and shops filled with hiking gear for those intrepid travelers crazy enough to attempt a trek up Mt. Everest. A guy tried to sell us pearls and we just laughed. Dude, we're from Bangladesh, pearls we've got.

Eventually, we found an open air rooftop cafe and stopped for dinner. The sun was setting somewhere between the buildings across the street and the mountain range behind them in the distance.

We sat for ages enjoying the soft, cool air and just being outside. George tried the Masala Coke. I'm not sure who it was that originally decided that Coke would be good with Masala seasoning sprinkled in it, but based on Georges reaction, they were wrong. 

The sun went down, music came on and I felt more relaxed than I have in months. We swapped tales of our travels, and joked and chatted for ages until deciding it was time to wander a bit more.

Back out on the Main Street we headed back the direction we had come. The sidewalks were ragged, tall and narrow. In short, quite deadly for someone as uncoordinated as myself.

As we headed past the turn for our hotel, I noticed a dark shape splayed along the tall sidewalk gutter on the other side of the road. Keya thought it might be a dog, but it became clear that it was a person.
The immediate concern was if the person was alive or...otherwise. 

We stood for a moment, uncertain what to do. Several people walked past, barely giving the heap a glance. I was shocked. Derek headed across the street and we followed. It was a man, slumped half on the sidewalk, half in the street. He was breathing but not moving. A flip flop covered one foot but the other shoe lay in the street next to him. 

Upon closer examination, it was clear he was not dead, but rather, dead drunk. Still, the level of disregard for his well being was shocking. As we looked him over trying to decide what to do, several other people started to gather. Keya called the police and asked that they come get him.

A few young men finally dragged him out of the street, where cars whizzed past menacingly close to his prostrate legs, dumping him on the far side of the sidewalk out of harms way.

We decided our part in this drama had played out and continued on. Life outside the diplomatic zone was proving quite interesting.

George decided we should check out a movie theater he found online. According to Nepal Google Maps the theater was a mere half mile away.

I suspect Nepal Google Maps also says Dhaka is a mere half mile away. Still, we were walking and out of our political prison and that was good. We walked on. We even found the U.S. Embassy. We saw many buildings that still bore the scars of the earthquake.

Finally, we found the theater. Sort of. It looked more like a good place to get mugged than a cinema. I am pretty sure it doesn't have dream lounger seating. Or possibly...seats. It turns out that theaters are only open during the day in Kathmandu. George and Keya befriended the bookstore owner next to it and got all the info and left having been convinced to buy two books.

By this time, we had hit about six miles on my Apple Watch. This might not seem like a lot to some people, but for someone who has spent the last six months getting barely 3,000 steps a day, my 54 year old body was starting to protest.

I pled old age and suggested we get a taxi and the young whipper snappers conceded. Moments later a van of sorts pulled up along side us. We were shocked to see that it was packed with at least fifteen people crammed into every cranny. Shaking our heads and waving them away, we laughed at the absurdity of suggesting that four more people could fit in the already overburdened van. 

The smiling group continued on their way, but we were nearly apoplectic when a couple of blocks later we saw them pull over to admit at least eight more people! They just kept piling in and disappearing. I suspect that it was Tardis in disguise.

It was really dark and getting late and I was definitely starting to wear out. My decorative sandals were not made for hiking.

A block or so later, Keya hailed a taxi. The driver pulled to the curb, but there was a low-ish metal railing along the sidewalk that appeared to go on basically, forever.

I glared at the railing for a moment, but desperate to get back to the hotel, I hiked up my Salwar Kameez and climbed over it in a smashingly undignified manner. The others followed, but with slightly more panache.

Looking at the tiny taxi, it became clear that it was desperately unqualified to carry the four of us. Especially Derek, who is 6' 4" tall and may or may not have, on occasion, been mistaken for Bigfoot.
Derek offered to continue walking home, but I was convinced there was safety in numbers and begged him to come with us. Keya slid into the back seat first. Then George. Then me. I didn't think it was possible to suck in your thighs the way you would suck in your stomach, but I managed it and the door closed. Mostly.

It was Derek's turn to get in. I think I heard the car whimper. He put a tentative foot onto the floor board but immediately realized this angle was not going to work. Instead he sat down sideways in the seat. I heard the shocks cry out in panic.

He ducked his head down low in order to clear the door jam, but once inside he couldn't sit completely upright. He looked like Fred Flintstone with his head desperately trying to poke through the roof of the car. I suggested he might try pushing the seat back. I don't actually need leg room. The driver reached over and flipped a lever and the seat slid back a few inches. It was just enough for Derek to drag his legs into the car and slam the door before they could escape.

The car groaned. For a moment we wondered if it could still move. We laughed hysterically as it dragged forward, resigning itself to it's unreasonable burden. Note to everyone: Nepalese taxi's aren't really designed for westerners.

The trip back seemed much shorter in the beleaguered little taxi. The driver dropped us off across the street from out hotel. As we descended from the back, I'm fairly certain I heard the car give a sigh of relief. I suspect it will need new shocks.

We walked the short distance back to the hotel, spent but happy for having spent the evening wandering the city of Kathmandu. We even managed to save a drunk guy!

Tomorrow is Monkey Temple day along with all sorts of other adventures! 

No Pirates, but still amazing!

Is it just me, or does the very thought of cities like Bangkok bring to mind adventure and intrigue? Probably pirates. I’m certain there could be pirates.

Based on this possibly erroneous preconceived notion, it was with no small amount of awe (and the tiniest bit of disappointment) that we exited the Suvarnabhumi Airport and discovered a gleaming and modern city sprawled out before us. There wasn’t a single junket anywhere in sight.

There was, however, a rather long queue for the taxi even though it was 11:30 at night. Eventually we were told to go to taxi number 34, a pretty exciting hot pink little number. As we approached, the driver jumped out of the car and hustled around to the back to load our bags. I was a little nervous about this as our bags appeared to be roughly the same size as the car but in a couple of minutes he had managed to wedge everything but us into the tiny taxi.

Bangkok sunset

Does anyone else think this building
looks like something in pixels?

Derek instructed him to take us to the Courtyard Marriott. He stared at us, blinking. Derek repeated himself. “Courtyard Marriott? You know how?” He slowly nodded yes and I recognized the expression on his face immediately. Translated, the look said, “I have no idea where you are talking about but I’m going to try and take you anyway because I want the fare”.

Derek is nicer than I am. He pulled out his phone and started to GPS the location. Call me hyper critical, but if an airport taxi driver doesn’t know where an international hotel is, then I’m going to assume he is really a kidnapper planning on selling us into slavery. I might have been overreacting, but it was late and I was tired and hungry. The only thing we were given on the airplane was a packet of crackers that turned out to have way too much Wasabi in them.

I had already started pulling our luggage out of the car in an effort to save our lives when the driver in the taxi next to us explained to our driver, in Thai, how to get there and Derek buckled under a weight of niceness that was a burden I no longer carried.

I’ll just say that in the end, we did finally make it back to our hotel, but I’m still convinced the driver had more nefarious plans for us.

The hotel was beautiful, the staff courteous, the room comfortable, but I was still hungry and apparently room service was available every day of the year, 24 hours a day…except for that particular night. We asked the clerk where we could find food and she cheerfully directed us to the McDonalds around the corner. My vision of an exotic and romantic Thailand drifted further from my view. Desperation does funny things to you. I don’t even eat at McDonalds in America, but I needed food so we got directions and headed off. Derek seemed rather happier about McDonalds than I was.

The first thing I noticed was the number of shrines. They were everywhere. Big ones, little ones, all beautiful. The second thing I noticed was the number of rats. They were everywhere too. One of them tried to take my camera. They would have seemed right at home in my previous vision of a tawdry backwater sea port with Junkets docked in the bay, but they seems oddly out of place next to the beautiful, modern buildings.

McDonalds at least, met my expectations exactly. There was something almost comforting about the sameness of it. Derek seemed pretty pleased to have one last shot at a Big Mac before heading back to Dhaka and ate heartily, and after a fish sandwich (I won’t even eat their hamburgers in America) I was feeling much better so we headed back to our hotel where we eventually fell asleep (we were still on US time).

The morning dawned…late. We slept in, still confused about what time zone and country we were in. I woke up before Derek and headed to the pool for a morning swim. It was a beautiful infinity pool surrounded by sky scrapers. A little roof top paradise with soft Asian sounding music floating across the water.

After my swim, we dressed and headed to the hotel restaurant where we were told there would be a lovely breakfast buffet, and indeed there was! Everything looked delicious and we tucked in, only…we had waited a bit too late and as we started eating, contemplating what we might choose next, they started clearing up. At least we did get to eat. I highly recommend trying the lemongrass juice. I know, right? Sounds awful, but it was really good.

And then we were off! Time to be adventurous. 

By adventurous, I don’t mean see the sights of the city, I mean try to figure out the metro train system. Fortunately we’ve been on the Metro in a lot of cities and managed to figure it out pretty easily. We got the right train the very first try (that doesn’t always happen) and headed for the Chao Phraya River.

Once we arrived at our station, we headed for the water front to catch a ferry. I loved it out on the river! This was the adventure I had been looking for! There could still be pirates!

Looking into the murky water, I could tell that it was about as clean as the Buraganges in Dhaka and determined it would be best NOT to fall in.

It was a beautiful ride. Tall, modern buildings filled the skyline, while next to the water stately hotels sat side by side next to tin buildings on wooden legs that reached down into the river.

A public temple. You make a donation and take tiny
squares of gold leaf and rub them on buddha.

We docked at what was clearly a tourist area. Shops were filled with every souvenir imaginable. I wanted to buy everything. Derek said no.

He managed to get me safely out of the shops without any damage to our bank account and we headed to the temple of the reclining Buddha, Wat Phra Chetuphon Vimolmangklararm Rajwaramahaviharn. You can certainly understand why they just call it Wat Pho.

It was impressive to say the least. The temples were beautiful. Burial monuments were sprinkled everywhere and there were over a thousand Buddha on the grounds.

Derek, clever as always, hired a guide for 300 bhat and we had a great tour. As much as I was enjoying it…jet lag was getting the better of me, so our guide, who, by the way, introduced himself as James Bond, suggested we go on a boat tour that a friend of his ran. The thought of not being on my feet appealed to me so much that I hastily agreed before Derek had a chance to mention that this might be yet another plot to sell us into slavery. I’m not really convinced there is a high demand for out of shape, middle aged American slaves.

Off we went to our next adventure. I loved it. We were taken on a long narrow boat through the canals of Bangkok. I was fascinated by the houses along the canals. Some shabby but still bursting with texture and color and character, others beautifully manicured. I thought my head would explode with excitement when Derek pointed to a huge green Komodo Dragon…or monitor…I’m not sure, but it was big and very cool. And I snapped merrily away, reveling in my picture taking.

Baby Godzilla

The boat was a noisy one and I realized that it sounded just like the boats on the Jungle Cruise at Disneyland. Come to think of it, the whole thing was so perfectly picturesque that it could have been staged by Disney. Every inch was bursting with ambiance and character. I was in Heaven.

Why yes, he IS sailing a bathtub.

 

Love the crane!

Then I thought about it and realized that this was pretty much the same as someone taking people on a tour of the back alleys of Detroit. I mean really, that’s what the canals were. Alleys. Still, it worked for me and we had a wonderful time, but we were exhausted and it was time to head back to the hotel. We entered the hotel room around 4:00. I hit the bed and didn’t wake up again until the next morning.

Fortunately, we woke early enough to really enjoy the hotels buffet, then headed off once again. Todays destination was The Grand Palace. The palace has been the official residence of the Kings of Siam (and later Thailand) since 1782. It’s big and it’s impressive, but…

The Grand Palace

Beautiful painted walls

Now, I’m not saying you shouldn’t bother to go if you are ever in Bangkok, I’m just saying it was singularly lacking in peace and serenity. It was indeed beautiful, what you could see of it as people pushed and shoved each other through the thronging masses. Derek practically had to use his own body as a human shield to keep me from getting trampled. We stayed long enough to get all the obligatory pictures and then headed home to spend the rest of the afternoon by the pool; a fair trade if you ask me.

The boat trip back to the metro was madness. A psychotic boat attendant kept yelling “Get down there! Get down there! In a singsong accent as she herded us to the back side of the boat. I suspect she was swearing a lot, but it was in Thai so I couldn’t tell. I could see the headlines in my mind. “Overcrowded Thai water taxi sinks, tourists turned into mutants by toxic river water”.

I think I will just leave the pictures to speak for the beauty of The Grand Temple and remind readers not to get any illusions about the place. I’m really good at getting shots that DON’T show the thousands of people that were there.

I had assumed that our last day there would be a bust since we were flying back to Dhaka that evening and I was still a little disgruntled about the fiasco at the Grand Temple, but true to form Derek road to the rescue on his glistening white horse and declared that we were heading to the floating markets for the day. He talked to the hotel concierge and paid an obscene amount of money to have a taxi driver take us to the market an hour away from the city, wait for us there and take us back. The drive itself was fascinating as we headed away from the city hub and out into the country where there were salt fields and coconut groves.

We arrived at the floating market having no idea what to expect. Once we had paid our entrance, we were directed to another long, narrow boat with a noisy outboard. It seemed that we had stumbled upon the real life jungle cruise as we navigated coconut tree lined canals. There was a cool breeze and crystal blue sky. The day could not have been more perfect.

Eventually we came upon an open front wooden structure on stilts next to the river, loaded with souvenirs and crafts. A pretty young woman reached towards us, flourishing her hand towards her wares. We said no thank you and our boat driver moved away from the bank, heading towards what we could see now, was a long canal lined on both sides with little shops just like the first one. One had beautiful paintings that a young man claimed he had done, but the fact that the same exact paintings appeared in ten other stalls made me suspect he might have been exaggerating. 

The further we went the more congested the river became and the more exciting the scene. I was in love. There was chaos everywhere. Now there were boats with people shopping, bumping up next to boats with colorful vendors selling their wares. Screw Disney, this was way better.

I bought a coconut husk full of fresh coconut water with a straw stuck in it. It was cold and delicious. Further on we found another boat with more coconut husks only these were filled with coconut ice cream covered in coconut shavings with a cherry on top, and a tiny paper umbrella and bright pink flower sticking out of the top. I’m pretty certain it was the best ice cream I’ve ever had.

Beautiful linen shirts lined one stall, while carved wooden lamps filled another. For some odd reason a number of the stalls were selling ambitiously sized, carved wooden phallic statues. Another boat was filled with colorful and exotic spices. I bought a big bag of saffron for about $8.00. I can’t even fathom what it would have cost in the U.S.

Derek kept glancing at me with a smile on his face. I was in my element; practically euphoric. There was chaos in the water. People yelling across the water, vendors cajoling tourists into buying. This was the Thailand I had envisioned (without the pirates).

We spent at least an hour floating through the crowded market. There was a festive air about the place and it will forever remain one of my favorite experiences in Thailand.

To cap off the morning, we took a half hour elephant ride. I’m not gonna lie. It was just a little cheesy. One of these little theme parks that you found in the states back in the 50’s, but it was still fun and I adored Derek for rescuing the day and making it so memorable.

The trip back to the hotel was peaceful and relaxing as we recapped our morning, laughing over this and exclaiming about that.

Finally, it was time to head to the airport. There was a brief moment of excitement when a Chinese man suddenly starting shouting angrily in the immigration line. These days people get a little skittish around loud angry noises in airports and it took everyone a few minutes to relax after that. The flight home was blissfully short and we made our way back to our apartment about 1:00 am.

There might not have been any junkets or pirates, but Bangkok was still a beautiful adventure that I hope to repeat someday.