Connecting Sacrament

In my experience, the Thais are a clean people. They'll have a market two square miles wide, so packed you can barely shimmy through the flow, let alone look at anything. Two hours later, You'd have no idea it was ever there. Rarely have I caught a whiff of body odour in this country, and when I have, it's almost certainly coming from the Falang down the way. This place is hot, and humid. Perhaps too hot and humid. So much so that you find yourself showering as often as new couples fuck. This general hygiene is however lost when gazing upon the Chao Phraya River. As I stand on a bridge overlooking this magnificent body of water I come to a startling realisation. I could be in Sacramento, CA... right now. Like I stepped through some fucked up wrinkle in space time and ended up at a crossroads between Juarez, Detroit and the town of Walker. You can almost feel Bangkok trying to sleaze its way up stream. "Water seeks out it's own level". Something my father always says makes me wonder as to the strategic placement of "Chinatown". Neatly backed up, right against the filthiest place in Chiang Mai. Did the Chinese here simply identify with the passing muck of the Chao Phraya? Or did the Thais humorously plan to cordon them off next to it. I imagine it was a bit of both. From this vista it is hard to believe that a few short meters away sit some of the most architecturally pleasing religious monuments of the past thousand years. But this is the duality of Thailand. Just behind the paint on the walls and the handy craft light strings are the true components. From the three hundred pound Falang hiding in the back, designing your meal to the liquor on the breath of your Tuk Tuk driver. The things that make this place tic are usually not the stuff of bed time stories. Fuck if it doesn't make for a good night of Muay Thai however. A hundred Falangs will sit and talk the awfulness of child labour. Then march around the block and lay down a few hundred baht on the seven year old standing in the red corner. They foam at the mouth, smashing down Chang after Chang screaming as he postures up to send a knee straight through his tiny opponent and on to oblivion. If he wins, maybe tonight he eats better, if not... Well, maybe we don't talk about that. I walk to the bathroom and the teenager from two bouts prior is still being propped up in the sink, trainer splashing water in his face. No win = no money and a beautiful night of porcelain god prayer for this gentleman to my right. I slide my hands in next to his face, catching a splash of water and I'm back on my way. Into the night, open to whatever may find me.