Siam Chronicles 16 - A Day of Thanks Between River Banks

A Vacation of Extreme Brevity

On a vacation of extreme brevity there is a simple formula that I espouse to ensure the maximum RPM (relaxation per minute) and the minimum OSI (overall stress index). First, I do as little as possible, followed by doing less and less each hour until I reach a sublime syncope, preferably while submerged in water.
Our furlough was well-timed. I had reached my threshold of annoyance at two vociferous roosters, the daily purgation of six-legged giants auditioning for the role of pet, the limits of the local cuisine, hard beds as a general rule, being the token American for all amounts of vitriol target practice, and our sorry spigot with three drool drips doing double time as a shower. Although Bangkok would not be my first choice of places to vacate to, our hiatus was successful by strategizing to spend as little time in the smog and swarm of the city as possible.
Instead we were medicated by the muffle of a western resort. There was a bed both clean and soft, a real shower, my Aunt on call for affection allocation, and tons of non-rice based food types. We stuffed our craw holes until we gagged. I even took a bath.
It was perfect.
The room also had a package the size of a refrigerator waiting for us on arrival. The Laos post office is run primarily by donkeys and goats being cycled through the penal system on probate, and after four packages were expensively digested en route we were forced to give up on this mysterious and beautiful natural process. So my Mom had availed herself of Thai mail, which has a weird knack of reaching its intended destination. She had dumped in all their leftover Halloween candy which melted in transit, coating each item in a fine layer of solid chocolate like an Easter egg. We had a capital if messy time excavating the contents, which interestingly enough included a jar of mayonnaise the size of small dog, two boxes of bacon, a large salami, and a ham-sized hunk of Velveeta. We were rich as trailer-park sultans.
We did sally two forays, first to a nature park that featured wrestling crocodiles and jigging elephants. There was even a magic show, which was much like any other except that the magician kept whacking his lovely assistant in the head, just to add that special savor of the profoundly disturbing to the timeless Colored Scarf From the Great Beyond enigma. The elephants roved free and were a bit frisky - one even gave me a sloppy kiss. I was told returning the favor would bring me luck, but I'm a married woman and I don't need to get lucky with a pachyderm. We called it a day when we were all appropriately anointed in elephant snot and toddled back for a shower, swim, jacuzzi, then another shower for good measure.
Second we walked all of three steps to a cozy dinner boat, modeled after an antique junk in honeyed wood. This propelled us lazily down the river for a sterling view of the illuminated barge fiesta that we had coincidentally arrived just in time for. There were fireworks.
For a brief moment, Bangkok was beautiful.

A Little Feathered Holiday

Presently we were returned to our quiet village to feed the starving mosquitoes that had been locked in our bedroom. A few days later I was thrilled to discover that ants had infested our towels, so after drying myself with an eggy dishrag we set out for a Thanksgiving stuffing at one of the only restaurants in town with a real oven. Although turkeys grow in nimiety here (as do the rest of the feathered pantheon)*, they are accorded the title beloved family member instead of a nutrition label. So we settled on steak and a bottle of wine, distinguished primarily by the absence of a wrestler on the label.
It was perfect.

*Note: Although the "Global Pandemic” light may be flashing, in a place where people use macaws as pillows at night and brush their teeth with the first readily available chicken come morning, it's best just not to think about it.