There was no BA strike. The snow went away just long enough for us to leave.
Bangkok. Bliss. Warmth. Warmth even in the dark. A full moon, in fact a blue moon. A busy night river. Distant fireworks.
A four day public holiday for Buddhists. Crowds surging through Wat Arun, Wat Po and the Golden Buddha temple where monks robes, gift packed in celophane, topped with a spray of beautiful flowers, were bought, presented to the Buddha and then, when enough had pilled up, loaded into plastic crates and trundled back to the stall to be re-sold. The eternal circle, the cycle of life.
From our bedroom window,dusk and dawn.
Wat Arun
Wat Pho
Old and New
Tim waiting for the ferry
For Sue, a Tuk Tuk
For Paul, You can leave your bike unlocked and your helmet just sitting on it.
