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February 05, 2006
It´s raining gold in Bangkok
The next day after the performances, without any rest, I fly first to Paris and then continue to Bangkok. There I have a one day break before we start to build up the Tarot exhibition in the National Gallery. The Finnish Embassy is again very helpful, and Sirkku is a real gem. Without her I would not be here.
In the night I try to keep awake with the jet lag hammering my body. I stay at the good old Royal Hotel (locals call it Loyal), and walk over a busy road to Sanam Luang, a large open field next to the residence of the royal family, the main temples, museums and the National Gallery. There are rows of tents selling all kinds of delicacies with fiercy thai spices, that I can not resist. I eat and cry and smile to tuk-tuk drivers and night butterflies (male and female prostitutes) enjoying the same food. Absolutely delicious. After the meal I walk over the field towards the golden temples glimmering miraculously in this soft tropical night, full of familiar smells and sounds.
In the middle of the field there is an all-gold pavillion with a golden Buddha on top. People walk up the stairs and rub gold leaves to his robe, hands and feet for good luck. An old woman stares at me, noticing my ultra short hair and long black dress. She bows her head and makes a wai, the Thai greeting. She propably thinks I am a buddhist (nuns have short hair) and that somebody from my family has died (black dress). I respectfully wai back. I sit under the pavillion and get the restovers of the gold dust all over me. It´s raining gold. Alleluja. It´s raining gold. It´s like Buddha´s blessing. Welcome to Bangkok, Miss Liu, so nice to see you again.
I arrived to Bangkok for the first time 23 years ago. At that time, I always travelled with a stiletto in my pocket. I spent the first night in an ancient chinese hotel near the Hualamphong station. I liked everything there,
the dark teak wood floors, the faded green paint on the walls, the old men playing cards and spitting, the smell of incent, the hard beds, the rusty fans, and the occasional cockroaches risking their lives by crossing the wide, airy corridors. I was so exited that it was hard to sleep, and when I left before midday, I forgot the knife under my pillow.
The day after, I went back to the hotel to get it back. An old chinese man pulled it out from a chinese box under the reception desk. It was carefully wrapped in plastic, with the number of the room written on it. He hold the package like a poisonous snake and dropped it to the desk in front of me. The gesture made clear what he thought about young women and stilettos travelling together.
Posted by marita at February 5, 2006 03:14 PM