Hanging at Reservoirs, Waterfalls, Restaurants

Monday, November 3rd, 2008

The past few days have been nice. Not memorable, just nice. On Friday, J. and I went on a drive to Huay Tung Tao Reservoir.

Clothes drying above a large bin at a garbage dump.

Hanging plants at a nursery.

Vegetables growing under plastic at an out of place field along the canal road.

A cow sits on a hill overlooking an intersection.

It was our third visit to the reservoir. As before, we took advantage of riding along the lakeside road without helmets. I wouldn’t flirt with death in any other place; the reservoir road is small, slow speed, and virtually free of any other vehicles. Plus, the breezes and scenery are so good they just scream for an unblocked view. The rice fields on the northern side were turning golden. Numerous swifts were flying above the grain and eating insects.

Our scooter route off the road.

Tall, white topped grasses were rustling.

Rice fields and farmer hut.

Rice detail. Getting yellow there, rice. Getting yellow.

We settled on a row of floating huts on the south side of the lake. As it was a weekday, crowds were low. Our hut was a very, very, very fine hut. The refurbished bamboo and grass roof structure was reached by a bundled bamboo bridge. In the murky water around the hut lingered numerous fish. Some scrambled for rice that “accidentally” fell off the table. I don’t think even Thai fish eat rice, so they must have thought the grains were maggots.

We ate three dishes, with beer, for lunch and played an epic game of rummy, solitaire, and double solitaire. Rain looked eminent, but it never came.

The bamboo bridges.

Spicy cold pork salad.

Pork fried with holy basil.

Papaya salad.

After lunch, a truck pulled up to the restaurant. It had a metal tank in the back that sloshed water. The driver took a net and scooped hundreds of small fish into buckets that the staff of the restaurant had at the ready. But instead of bringing the fish into the kitchen, the bucket brigade dumped them in the lake. When I investigated the shore, I found a little pile of fish under water. Not all had survived the truck ride.

Dead fish.

On Sunday, we got up late and left the house for lunch even later. We went to a place along the canal road that served soup and chicken. The soup was good. The chicken was good. For desert, we decided to pick up two bean buns a piece and eat them at Huay Kaew Waterfall. I learned that day that a belly full of soup and two spongy bean buns does not make for a gas-less afternoon. As we sat and watched the water fall and dogs and people play in the stream, my stomach expanded to Violet Beauregarde proportions. At least it felt that way. For the rest of the day, J. just rolled me wherever I needed to go.

U-turn bridge blocked on the canal road.

There must have been walls planned for these ill-fated stairs.

The CMU clock tower.

People playing in the water at the falls.

Two short dogs waiting patiently for scraps of food.

I spent the afternoon deflating enough to eat some snacks at the Sunday Walking Street Market. But the addition of mixed fermented salad, coconut cookies, fresh strawberry smoothie, and iced coffee re-busted my gut. I didn’t sleep well that night, but I think my tape worms are well fed.

Today, while J. worked on her portfolio I went on a walk. The weather was beautiful. My route took me across the canal and up towards the athletic park on Huay Kaew Road. I was sweaty by the time we met up for lunch.

Foundation pit flooded with water.

Bamboo scaffolding.

I love how simple the filing system of this mail box is.

Chiang Mai Vice.

Exploded and charred electrical box.

One of my favorite drinks, thai lime tea.

For lunch J had cashew chicken.

I had a yellow curry, egg, and chicken dish.

What’s left of a house: the bathroom wall. The toilet used to be there last I checked. Someone must have knocked it over.

Puff balls on the gate.

Engrish inside our apartment lobby.

In the last few days, it feels like a switch has been flipped inside me. I’m old now. I feel sluggish and sore and am more prone to flatulence. My eyes look tired. My chest feels weak. Have I reached the point where my body stops growing and starts dying? Did I just get some mysterious disease while in India? Only time and avoidance of doctors will tell.

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