Hello Grumpies and Mille
Went to the Grand Palace where Rama Ix, in other words the siamese king. There were also a small countrys worth of temples, shrines and intimidating statues. They also love gold paint on their monuments over here, the gaudier the better apparently. And gems. Lots of gems. I got plenty of it on film but unfortunately, you weren't allowed to take pictures of the Emerald Buddha, in on of the temples. Or wear shoes in there. Or point your feet at him. He's the most important icon in Thailand and South East asia, apparently. He certainly had a big enough throne for someone three foot tall and inanimate. They even change his clothes every season. He has his winter wear, his rainy wear and his summer wear. I'm not joking! At least no one here preaches hellfire for sinners though quite conservative and devout. My last taxi driver hadx the Dalai Lama on his speedometer so I knew he'd be an honest one, which he was unlike one I had last night. Tell you later.
By the way, paragraphs on the computer means TWO taps of the enter key. Like above. Here endeth the lesson. Though I probably did the same as you last night.
Anyway, sweltering hot today. The sun came out at lunchtime, just as I was going around the grounds with all the other tourist masses. Have been hopping from cafe to cafe/bars when not sight seeing today. No booze today, though! And an early night. Need to pack and get ready for tommorrow's hopefully genuine trip out to Kwai and then down south on Tuesday night (on a sleeper train, 11hr, then boat trip, 6hr to Koh Samui, yeesh, hope it's worth it).
I actually haven't seen that much. Just lots of 'interesting' experiences. Like this morning before I went to the Palace (which, btw, makes Buckingham look rather shabby by comparison). I was strolling down Khao san and this huge, well dressed (white robes, etc), turbaned Indian with an orange beard came up to me. A lot of people do that here, all the time selling something. You usually say no thanks and wave them off. Takes a bit of practice, since we're engrained to be more polite in UK but I can manage it, without flatout ignoring most of them. Anyway, I assumed this one was going to sell me a suit; a small horde of indians here seem to do little else but tailor. He showed me a card and said he was selling anyting (ha!) and it said his name was Mr Singh, and he was a Yogi, which is a Sikh mystic, basically. There were a couple others like him I noticed later, for the first time. He said I have good karma by the look of my eyes. It was probably just the sweat dripping in my eyes. Anyway, he said a few good things about me, appealing to my vanity and must have succeeded or maybe I was just heat stroked. He uttered the imfamous words "Come with me, into my office". So, probably hypnotised at this point, I followed what must have been the tallest, burliest man in Thailand down a narrow alleyway...dun dun dun!
I passed about two Thais who gave me odd looks as I passed them, before we got to his office. Two plastic blue chairs, which amazingly held his weight and mine. He took my palm, after telling me I had an honest look and good karma on my forehead and eyes. I gave him my least scabby palm, lest he think I was plagued. He then proceeded to tell me about how he and his god and I were the only witnesses now to what would be foretold. He then, after asking for ten dollars for guessing my favourite number (I wrote it down on blank paper, turned it over, and it had my number on it) and a few other things about me being a writer. The usual magic trick stuff you see Derren Brown do. Very impressive in the flesh, though, so to speak. He asked for a token of good faith in "your money". I gave him ten dollars because I was impressed or hynotised or quietly terrified of being in this narrow alley facing this guy who looked like he twisted peoples heads off for Indian mugals in a past life. He then read my palm some more, and said I was honest and always out to help people without thought of profit in return (that'll be all that washing up and grass cutting then!), I'll have luck with writing in the 2008, a balding man will lead me to success in that field (Dad????) and a bad man with J at the start of his name will be jealous of me and try to ruin me. In the next year I will come into 85000 pounds, no more, no less. Oh, and I'll find love with a girl named Maya and marry her in 2009, and come back to Bangkok on the honeymoon. He said I was born on a good month and year but a bad day, and this has lead me to have little luck and profit from work or elsewhere. He said I will have much good luck in the coming year after a lot of bad luck in the past.
He then gave me his price. Two hundred dollars. I almost fell off my chair but for some reason, didn't run for it. Maybe because I liked my head facing forward, thank you very much. He said "I get these things right, they prove my predictions right too, and you pay me this fee. If wrong, you take back all money." I tentatively said ok. He gave me a piece of paper, blank, and it had been there for five minutes when he told me to tell him now how many siblings, my mother's name, my birthday, etc. Needless to say, he did some things with his fingers on his forehead and some chants, and some more talk of luck and karma, and told me to open my closed hand and look on the back of the portentous piece of paper. And there, in his handwriting were the answers I had given him just amoment ago, on a piece of paper that had been in my sweaty palm for more than five minutes.
Obviously it was a magic trick of some kind... but it was nonetheless very impressive that he had already written down the answers before I had given them, and answers he could not have guessed. He knew Mum's name, my birthday exactly, my lack of siblings, amongst other things.
Then, predictably, he said, smiling "So now you pay me two hundred dollar, yes? Wealth mean nothing before God, yes?"
Sweating now, more than even the stifling alley could account for, I paled, somewhere beneath my sunburned skin. "I.. uh... I'm not paying you that much"
"But you promised, sir! Before God, wealth is nothing"
"I can't afford all that! I'm a poor backpacker!"
"Oh, sir, you break promise, no good. One man pay me FIVE hundred dollar before@\"
"Well...uh...I'm...uh...I'll pay you fifty dollars" I stuttered, laughing nervously, half expecting a knife-weilding pack of indians to appear any moment, baying for no-good whitey's blood. Fifty dollars seemed a fair price to pay for my life.
"Oh, sir. One man pay me FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS. Oh, sir, I knnow you can afford it." Of course he did! He's a fortune teller, mind reader, Supreme Poobah Yogi! Yikes! He then proceeded to open his business pouch (yes really) and show me pictures of naked Yogis and kids that might have been his and him with a bunch of other Yogis at some American state fair by the looks of the tent and gaudy signs. Probably not, but still.
I finally struck upon a brilliant idea, spotting the piece of paper with the 85 grand figure on it. "I'll tell you what, man, when I get that big chunk of money, and I come back here with my future wife, I won't forget you. I'll give you hefty chunk of that cash, for being such a great and wise man"
Extreme stress and panic dulle only by heavy duty drugs made me more eloquent than ever before. He smiled begrudgingly, I slippped him another ten dollars, to be generous to the karmic forces he might turn against me, and we shook hands a half dozen times, spoke 'good luck' as many times too, and then handed me something I'm not allowed to tell anyone or show anyone. I suppose it's meant to safeguard my future karmic fates. And it only cost me about seventy dolla.
....
Well, at least I'm alive! And in retrospect, despite his appearance, he was a very nice and polite chap. That's the last time I go near a fellow in a turban, though.
Wow, that was long. Sorry to be a bore.
Anyway, food still good. Eaten in a several different places and no troubles, touch wood, yet.
As for card, I changed my CC pin, so it should have worked. I'll try it later today, with a smaller amount, like five pound's worth. Maybe it doesn't work in this country? And glad to hear virgin card getting sorted. Tried it just now, didn't get accepted.
A few bites but not too many. Bite stuff fixes it right up. Also, the geckos are voyeuristic perverts here. One was watching me shower last, the dirty bugger. Oh! And the shifty fat taxi driver last night, taking me home to guest house; he was a joker alright. Pretended he couldn't understand what I said, couldn't read my map, had never heard of the road. He then chuckled and said "you pay 150 baht now, and I turn off meter and we get there eventually." I was too drunk to make much sense of that, so agreed ot coast around until we found it. Even it it had taken an hour, it wouldn't have cost that much (about 2.50 pound) and I eventually cobbled onto this in my befuddled state, and told him where to go, and started walking home instead. It's about 25 minute walk from Kao san to my guest house. Except I wasn't in Kao san anyore. And I didn't know where I was. And I was intoxicated. And it was almost midnight.
Needless to say, I found my way home, by about 1am, with blisters on my feet (bloody sandals!), a limp and another experience under my belt. By comparison, I took four taxis today for thrice the distance eah, and in total tey cost about 120 baht. For all four. You live and learn. Only one tried to sell me something; a massage. I declined. I wasn't sure if he was the one who would do it,nor did I know what kind it would be.
But I digress. I sure other stuff happened but I can't remember right now.
Off out of Bangkok tomorrow at 7am, fingers crossed, so I'd best get a quick drink (who said that?!) in and then head back to guesthouse. It's 5.20 here, and I have to pack, wash and rest up. Hopefully, I set my phone alarm orrectly and it'll wake me... Or you could ring me at 11pm tonight?
I have about 19 poud left on phone. Txts are fifty pence, I think. Not sure.
Hope you're all doing well. Will send postcards tomorrow, hopefully. PO closed today. Might not be able to email till I get to Kah Samui. Will txt, though. Write me back, though, I like getting email replies. Take care. Lots of love.
Jamie
********
And there we have my second communique, written on Sunday apparently, the night before I set off for Kanchanaburi. Next time, elephants and Germans on the River Kwai. P.S I'll throw up some pictures to go with these letters eventually.
No comments:
Post a Comment