My wife drove the car onto the ferry across the Chao Phyra River. I was leaving behind Ban Nam Poo. My wife was staying behind at her mother’s farm. I wish I could. The living is easy, despite the complaints of sick buffalo and no money. Everyone eats. Everyone drinks lao ie the men. The women drink Leo beer. And the favorite band is Carabao.
Instead I have to depart rice paradise for the last Babylon.
Pattaya.
Go-go bars versus sitting around a fire drinking beer. Steak au poivre versus pork lemon salad. Traffic versus the buzz of insects. It is paradise no matter what we think, because life goes on in Ban Nam Poo no matter what happens in the rest of the world.
Thaksin in. No problem. Thaksin out. No problem. GW Bush bombs Iran. Who cares?
The world only extends no farther than the nearest horizon and if the TV should bring some bad news, get out he remote and put on a Thai soap. Now that’s real problems.
Global warming.
Mai phen rai forever.
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