BAngKok

March 9
They are eager to serve, happy to help, even more eager and happy to take our money. It is a tourist economy that thrives in this city, and we are at the mercy of its workings.
We have been visiting temples, going to the Grand Palace, visiting the Red Light District, relying on public transport. And it is costing us. Not just our baht, which isn't really a big deal, but our sanity.
On the day we visited the Grand Palace, as we pondered the loop of traffic before us and the absence of all crosswalks, lights and attention paid to pedestrians, a nice young Thai man approached us to help.
"You go down there," he said, pointing quite a few blocks away, toward the glowing gold arches of the King's portrait, " and you will find the crosswalk. But it is far. Where are you going?"
He suggested we take the tuk tuk in front of us, telling us that the Grand Palace was closed for the funerary ceremony of the Princess. This was bad. We had read that many times people will tell tourists that temples or other interesting buildings are closed, to get them to go to another place and spend their money there. The "helpful" guy on the street then gets a cut of whatever we spend at the place. The princess (80+ years old) had indeed died right before we got to the country, but would this really be legit?
"The palace is closed until 3. You go on tour, see other temple, then go to palace later," he assured us.
So, he arranged a good fare for us, told the driver where to take us and blessed us on our way.
Now the thing about the tuk tuk drivers is that they are rather notorious for ripping people off, taking them to shops for a bonus from the shop owner, or taking the customers on a wild goose chase to their destination only after stopping to get gas and asking for more money. We were more than leery of this situation, but not seeing any other good option, we hopped in and held on.
Would we really get to see the Festival of monks he promised us at another temple? Would the drive around the city prove to be beneficial in any way? Would we get to the Grand Palace by 3 only to learn that it had been open all this time? Or would the driver's hairpin turns and sideswipe roadshow leave us eating concrete?
After a few quick calls much too close for comfort, we emerged from a glut of big tour buses and made it to the first temple, where a festival was supposed to be underway.
The thin crowd, the loosely bannered stalls.. it looked like a regular weekend market gone bankrupt. But it was one more wat (temple) to check off our list, and I made a couple of friends, in the purring, snuggly kitties that wouldn't leave me alone. Not a complete bust. And the quick movement of the open-air golf cart-like vehicle made the day's oppressive heat somewhat less thick.

Having brought one of Kyle's shirts along with me (all I had backed were skank tops and tube tops- it's Thailand!), we headed to the Grand Palace. The cutoff capris I was wearing got me a pass straight to the inappropriate clothes room, where I had to rent a skirt (100 baht) and make myself decent for the temple. We headed in and immediately got ourselves good and lost among the ceramic tiles and bright colors of the ancient buildings.
Wat Phra Kaew, which is the actual temple within the compound of the former royal residence, was built in 1782 and is Thailand's most important temple. It is the temple of the Emerald Buddha, and yes, that means there is a green stone Buddha resting within the ornate, tiled walls of the compound. Dark and lovely in his golden surroundings, looking at this Buddha gives one the sense of reverence the Thais have for their religion, culture and history. Each temple is very ornate and most of them are as well-kept as this one, but there's something about a Buddha carefully carved out of emerald that is pretty impressive. Maybe it's my own ties to emeralds, which are also revered and important in Colombia's story.
There's all sorts of stuff to look at within this compound, and by the time I made it out of the temple area I wanted to sit and rest. So I did.
And then I got yelled at.
"No sexy! No sexy!!" The small, professional Thai woman was yelling at me and running as quick as her little heeled feet could carry her. All of the women here wear impossible high heels, even if they are wearing jeans and a ratty old Pepsi tee or selling fruit on the street. It's amazing, and entirely uncomfortable looking. This woman was not selling fruit; she was a security guard and she was PISSED that my skirt had the audacity to flip over my thigh in the breeze and expose a slice of brown flesh.
"No sexy! You leave!"
I quickly covered up the indecency and sat back against the marble flower pot.
"See, ok, ok!" I said. She scowled and waved away the male gun-toting security guard.
"Well, did you go into the Palace yet?" asked Kyle as he sauntered over to me.
"Nope, that guy didn't lie to us. The princess is lying in state in there, so we can't go in. The Thais can. Not us though. "
Thailand is not an equal-opportunity employer. Nor recreational playland. While the Thai people were able to enjoy their dead princess (ugh), we were not allowed anywhere near her. And we had to pay to get in (200 bht), while they get in for free. And Thai boxing, transport, all much cheaper for the natives. I'm not necessarily complaining about this, the baht was 30:1, not too shabby. It's just that this most immediate lesson of Thailand's wheelings and dealings and inner workings would be a lesson we learned (or didn't) over and over again.
As we left the white, concrete wall surrounding the compound, I stopped among the growing crush of people and stripped off the t-shirt. If the crowd was going to crush me and black my eyes in its rush to get inside, I at least wanted to be comfortably uncovered for it. This came back to bite me in the ass (of course) as I leaned against another wall, waiting to photograph a neat statue of white elephants.
The white elephant is also a revered symbol here. They are blessed creatures, gifts from Buddha (heaven?) and when a King was lucky enough to have one, he had to create a special environment for it, keep it out of the sun, bar it from working. This is the home of the term "white elephant," meaning something that drains funds and effort in its upkeep. The statue was a cluster of 3 elephants on hing legs balancing some object, and I wanted to wait for the bus between me and it to move, so I could get a good shot. Waiting for a bus to move and actually getting an unobstructed view of something is an effort in futility though. And a good chance for one of the millions of motorcyclists to check you out.
"Mars, that guy is totally checking you out," pointed out Kyle between his chuckles. "Look at him!" I hadn't been ogled too much at this point (the Thais prefer their women to be as white as possible, means less outdoor work), but he didn't seem to care about the color of my skin as he stopped and stared. Gee, how nice.
If only I had stayed in the skirt and tee.