Bangkok airport sell international newspapers. Imagine that, non governmental controlled, english newspapers... I snapped up the Guardian and curled up in Starbucks with a cup of tea to enjoy my free press. I've still got it with me and I'm going to give it to me English students so they can practise. Although I'm not actually sure if foreigners giving out newspapers is illegal or not. I wouldn't be surprised...
That afternoon I spent on a boat going up and down the Chao Praya river. I saw Bangkok's most famous hotels, The Oriental and The Peninsula. If I'm being honest neither looked particularly impressive whereas The Hilton and The Shangri-la definitely looked suitably glitzy. I also saw the odd temple and colonial era warehouses.
The next day I again caught a boat and hopped off at the Grand Palace. I didn't go inside (had very little baht left and I was far too miserly to get anymore out) but it looked very shiny. Places like that always amuse me because they were built to show the glory and power of what they considered to be the world's greatest king. But, and I mean no offence, the King of Siam just isn't...
I, instead, went and planted myself in a small, and free, park not far away. It was a rather touching memorial to a queen and princess who died in a boat accident a hundred or so years ago. I sat down near a pavilion to write this blog and people watch. There was the odd jogger, including an elderly gentlemen who was moving at a rather glacial path but, to his credit, managed several laps. Nearby some young men were lifting weights. There were also some interesting critters about, namely a surprisingly large lizard sneaking around as well as the ghostly shadow in the stream which hinted at a rather large fish lurking int he depths. It seemed a lot bigger than all the other fishes...
Then a journey to the airport, a flight delay-sorry "rescheduling", a short flight where my next door neighbour kept bashing me with his elbows and then looked confused when I elbowed back, before I was back in China.
After a bus and taxi ride involving the first Chinese taxi driver I've ever met who actually seems to know the city and not need me to direct, I arrived at my hostel.
On the bus I wondered why the Chinese announcer kept saying everything twice, but sounding like he had hiccoughs the second time.
Yep, I had arrived in Guangzhou, also known as Canton...
No comments:
Post a Comment