Of tuk-tuks and temples.

A short stopover in Bangkok, on my way back to London. The thrill of walking the busy, life-filled streets, and then slipping away from the crowd into a silent temple.

Back out again, into the back of a tuk-tuk (life flashing before you), zooming down to the river where you are shoved aboard a rickety ferry definitely over its load maximum.

Holding onto the edge railing, with a small jerk certain to tip you into the water, the ferry trundles up and down, showing a side to Bangkok not visible from land. Commerce on the water.

When it’s your turn to get off, you are turfed back into a world of swerving motorbikes, bustling people, yelling street vendors.

But there’s always another temple to sneak off into, to sit in the garden with the temple cats, listen to the wind rustling through the fabric flags tied above you, drinking a coconut. Then out again and green curry by the river, the spice hotter than the air around you (something you didn’t think was possible mere seconds before).



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