And Finally it’s raining: the usual purifying half hour of the day. I saw the golden lights of the Wat Po from a motorbike that runs fast, a nice ride to make you forget the heat, the rain and the traffic of the day.
August, the 31th : Bangkok a month later.
Taxis, motorcycles, buses, tuc-tuc, speedboats, slowboats, metros and bicycles, canals, flower markets, stalls, shopping malls and skyscrapers. I left the city wet, messy and dirty, shaken in a cocktail of electrifying moves. I greeted it crunching chicken pretzels, watching it puzzled from the top of a Buddhist stupa.
I went back to say goodbye, and give her another chance.
So, I found out that the posh district of Rattanakosin is not all but gold, that the other side of the temples are red-light, districts, squeezed between rooftop bars and five-star hotels. I discovered that the mecca of food is not in Chinatown but in Siam Square shopping mall food courts and that behind the canals there’s another side of the city waiting. I found it changed, dressed up with Marc Jacobs clothes and Prada handbags, clean and tidy in the cold subway cars. I watched it staring at its reflection through the shining water of Silom lakes, rejoicing for the perfect game of mirrors of its gleaming harmonic skyscrapers.
Shopping centers in hand with temples, sloping roofs decorated with gold.
At the bottom of the river, cradling whispering slow ferry boat.
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