Ayutthaya

After writing my previous post, I crossed the street to where the music of accoustic guitar was coming from. I buy a Chang beer and am invited to sit down with a group of youngsters. They are south africans, "brown" as they say themselves, and we had a hell of a good time.

The Finnish man is back, his face completely red from being drunk. He talks a minute with us, but speaks too softly and too close to my ear.

After a moment he asks why we are being so noisy and starts preaching to us. He doesn't realise how stupid he sounds: behind him a man with a guitar is hammering song after song, with 2 english men singing their hearts out.

He asks me why I drink with them. I suspect him of being racist.

"In South Africa there's 3 types of people, one of the kids tell me with his uber-cool accent. Whites, browns, blacks. The brown are the craziest, and we're the loudest of them all!'

We talk a little bit about Die Antwoord and Skrillex and they invite me to their room where they have more beer. One of them decides to go swim in the Guest House's fountain.

The next morning I rent a bicycle and go prowl the streets of Ayutthaya. The streets are large and the traffic relentless, and most of the buildings are made of that beige concrete, with little food stands on the sidewalks. The main arteries follow an ancient moat.

The ruins are everything I was hoping for, and smack in the middle of the city. Old orange bricks form tiny towers that were used for monks to meditate. Now, pigeons fornicate. I walk the halls of an ancient king and get back on my bike.

Something I like doing even back home is to get lost. You often stumble on something cool. And so I arrive at a temple that houses a GIANT golden Buddah. He must be 20 feet high. The holiness if this place is palpable.

I decided to stay 2 nights so there is no rush to go back to Tony's guest house, which is a good thing because I get lost and just gathering the courage to cross the intense trafic by bike usually takes me up to a minute.

At Tony's I meet Mathieu, a french trekker who is all too happy to speak french. He offers me coffee which he brews with his camping gear and procedes to talk my ears off for about 3 hours. He likes to sleep in the jungle and explain how good he is at traveling. I quickly get tired of his company... There's enough braggers, boasters and people who wish I was more like them back home. Another person who thinks his way of living is the best... And every time he sees me he starts talking. I cannot listen to music or read a book, and so I feign a weak stomach and hide in my room for the night. I should have stayed only one night like I planned...

The next morning Mathieu offers me more coffee. I drink a cup, thank him for his generosity and advice, and take my leave. Affer all, he was only trying to be nice...