Dear Family & Friends,

You may or may not know that in the last year or so, I’ve learned to keep a journal that accompanies me at all times. In fact, a stroke of accessory genius, my current journal doubles as entertainment and gives my slouchy handbag structure. Anyway, to get the creative juices flowing, each journal entry begins with a description of the weather. In Seattle, especially January, the fun of this is wracking my vocabulary and perspective for a description beyond “gray and rainy.” So I must say that so far, Bangkok weather hasn’t presented many opportunities to wax eloquent beyond the word “muggy.” At present, my body is operating akin to a fancy garden fountain: water is almost constantly poured through the mouth and then spouts from a myriad of places. The only thing that keeps me looking like an actual fountain is that I am fully clothed, so the water simply empties into my clothing. My face dislikes this place and is constantly spreading a sheen of oil across itself while growing an unpleasing number of pink spots. Luckily, my hair is thrilled! It happily bounces and fizzes and curls.

I continue to have technical difficulties – this time not of my own making. My initial euphoria re: the Wendy House wireless network faded as yesterday the network crashed. I wasn’t unduly alarmed although this did manage to ruin my plans to catch up on several computing items although the crash solidified my method of e-mailing you all (which is to compose in Word sitting on my crisp white bed and then go online to copy into Gmail or Blogger). Finally, the network did get fixed although the wireless in my room is now very spotty – oddly, it never seems to work when I’d like it but works fine when I don’t need it. Huh.

Yesterday I awoke early to check my e-mail; the bank informed me that there was “no reason” that my debit card shouldn’t be working and wished me a nice trip. Happily, my debit card and I had a successful jaunt down to Siam Square and on the way back, I took the wrong set of stairs and discovered a 50 B Bangkok map at a convenience store. After my paying Wendy House a month’s rent and consuming my complimentary “Western style” breakfast, I fiddled, a lot. Later I roused myself to examine my new map and decided that as Bangkok is often described as a water city, it was time for me to at least clap eyes on the river. So at the Sky Train station, I splurged 30 B for 5 stops, and stood holding a handrail as the train soared by a few parks and a multitude of buildings.

I disembarked at the “terminal” station noting some colorful wat spires not far away, an intriguing ruin, and visually located the Choa Phraya river. The air was heavier and rush hour had begun. Perhaps I caught the river on a bad day and I was not in the best section, but I’m still not sure that it is anything to write home about. The river is a wide, muddy brown expanse, with a noticeably strong current and populated with rusty commuter ferries. I was the only Westerner in the immediate vicinity and there were hordes of street vendors and tour operators to catch my attention and Baht. My “no” to all was enough to shake them and I purposely headed towards my ruin and the wat spires.

I’m constantly intrigued by stories or things that could pose interesting stories and I want, I really want to know, how my ruin became a ruin. My ruin was once gorgeous or could’ve been gorgeous… of this I am sure but the signs of ruination include haphazard steel construction wire emanating from the top and random other places, that some of its floors are dark brown concrete while others are painted white, and that there is no sign of construction. It is probably 30 stories high with each floor containing wavy-stone balconies akin to what is found at other nice hotels in the vicinity. As I walked down the street in the direction of the ruin, I caught a glimpse of the Corinthian columns that formed its entrance but I could also see that walking closer was futile as the ruin base was completely fenced off. Because my Thai still hasn’t advanced (“thank you” continues to be a challenge although I’ve had a multitude of teachers), I didn’t think that asking around would get me very far so I’ve resolved to do some research. There is a Thai Google.

I put aside my odd building intrigue and walked instead to the colorful spires that originally caught my attention. It is not listed in the Lonely Planet so I don’t know much about “Wat Yannawa” – my first Wat – except that it is a definitely a working complex of worship with saffron-robed monks. My knees and shoulders were properly covered and the guard waved me onto a path leading in, so I amazedly walked in. Photos of Thai wats are completely inadequate to express the incredibly detailed mosaic detailing and the… “BEEP BEEP!” I jumped as a polite, insistent beep sounded behind me. My heart then raced as I found myself facing the front of a not-small bus behind me. I quickly moved to the side of the path, aka the road, while the bus driver smiled and waved at me. I like to think that I looked so pole-axed by this sacred place that he was commiserating with my lack of attention to his enormous purple bus. As I continued to walk around, I remained awestruck and vigilant re: buses. I explored, took a few photos, and silently greeted the multitude of stray or straying dogs. I didn’t attempt to go inside any of the buildings so as not to disturb the worshipers. I was stared at by the monks, school children, and Thai tourist as if I were a stranger, but not an unwelcome one.

I then rejoined the street cramped with cars, buses with their windows down, and street vendors hawking unidentifiable food wares – so tightly packed that even the motor scooters were stilled. The resulting smog made me cough.

On the way back to the train, I ran across two brown dogs, centered in the middle of a park path, snoozing on their sides. They looked quite content and not even terribly hungry but I gave them a wide berth although behind me, an old, bent, wizened man with an asymmetrical face attempted to shoo the dogs away. Perhaps the man had a reason to do so but I silently cheered the dogs on as they barked their displeasure from the side of the path.

Rush hour in Bangkok is a misnomer as traffic during peak travel times truly moves slower than a crawl. At times it seems so stuck that I wonder that anyone ever makes it to their destination. On the train, the crowd of commuting Thais and I slid across those packed streets, past intriguing architecture (a topic for another day) and into the Siam station of the Gourmet Market. It took me forever to decide on a pricey sushi dinner of which I did not recognize any of the really fresh fish but nonetheless enjoyed. I then plunked down 39 B for 4 different types of water (I hate the ubiquitous Nestle water, 10 B, everywhere) and a Tim Tam. I went home to Wendy House and fished out Iris Murdoch – which almost immediately put me to sleep.

You all are never far from me in thought. --Laura