For today’s photo session, I ventured South of Banglamphu on Thanon Tanao, down through the outskirts of Chinatown, ending at the Memorial Bridge area, where a big night market brews up every evening.

After a super-tasty pancake and fruit breakfast at May Kaidee’s followed by a sweltering but restful nap upstairs, I set out on another photo mission, this time to the Western section of Banglamphu. The first compound I came across, Wat Rajnadda, was closed, with several temples under various stages of renovation. When I tried to walk in the front entrance, some construction guy told me it was closed, so I just moseyed on around to the side and snuck in to snap a few photos. One of the temples had been stripped bare and was waiting to accept a new coat of gold and tiles, while another was wrapped up in scaffolding, all ready to get buffed.

Next, I spied a huge golden stupa not too far away, but it was rather difficult to find amid a maze of canals and bridges. Situated atop a big hill, it’s called the Golden Mount at Wat Saket, accessible by a long, curved stairway with tiny steps that are annoying to walk up, unless you’re a pygmy. On display were cheesy fake boulders adorned with what appeared to be Buddhist lawn ornaments. A pink flamingo and an elf wouldn’t look out of place there. Halfway up was a collection of bells and a huge six-foot diameter gong on which I fired up a recording session. Too bad the gate leading to the top was closed. I peaked in and the curved stairway going up looked pretty enticing. Maybe I’ll try to return here earlier in the day.

I spent the afternoon lounging around and gobbling down some goodness at May Kaidee’s, where after a while, Noi banished me to the upstairs kickback room to read and take a nap. There, I discovered two baby kittens in a corner between two couches that looked like they were about to die. I told the crew downstairs and they fed the kittens some milk. Hopefully, they’ll survive. No one who works there had even seen them before.

After another afternoon full of rest and relaxation, also known as sleeping and goofing off, I took a leisurely evening stroll up into the North part of Banglamphu, where I hadn’t spent too much time before. Hordes of humans, who were actually clones of me, gathered to watch the setting sun glint off of the chedi at Wat Bowoniwes. This temple also featured a large Buddha image surrounded by three other even bigger ones lurking in the shadows.

Next on the agenda was Wat Intharavihan, home of the tallest Buddha yet witnessed by my eyeballs. Breaking the yardstick at around 100 feet tall, this funky, lanky thing brings new meaning to the phrase “neighborhood watch.” Appropriately dubbed Luang Pho To, you can bet your last dollar that I snapped a pho to or two of it.

The highlight of the day arrived unexpectedly down near Khao San, where I happened upon a street musician in the form of a toohless old Thai guy riffing on a beat-up electric guitar plugged into a decrepit amp housed in a baby stroller. His guitar sounded like a peach–all dirty and fuzzy–accented by an occasional high-pitched Thai yelp. I was so stoked–especially because he didn’t cough up any corny classic rock covers that are so common in this area.

My old chum the Chao Phraya river taxi propelled me downstream a little ways to the Memorial Bridge. On the Eastern side, there’s a big, wide promenade that leads up to a statue dedicated to the memory of someone, but I don’t know exactly who, because the steps leading down to view it were blocked off with plywood walls and I didn’t feel like schlepping all the way around a quarter mile. Therefore, I now dedicate it to whoever invented the wheel. Next, I strolled over the Memorial Bridge and up a scenic walkway that proceeded North a ways to Wat Kanlayanamit.

There was no official prayer service going on, or singing by Buddhist monks, but I witnessed quite a few of the faithful bow their heads and close their eyes in front of the biggest Buddha image I’ve ever seen. This thing was a monster! It must have been at least 40 feet tall, not including the base. After gazing upon that glinting golden giant for a spell, I recorded myself playing numerous large bells, drums and gongs that were scattered inside the temple and around the courtyard. It’s really nice that the monks let people strike them. I’m going to have a hell of a good time splicing together all of my field recordings from this trip when I get home.

The scenic walkway along the river ended, so I had to find an alternate route to my destination, Wat Arun. I had a hellacious time trying to find my way out of the Wat Kanlayanamit compound. I ended up walking as far in the wrong direction as possible, landing myself in the far back corner of a monastery. Finally, I got my bearings and made my way out onto the nearest Northbound street. By the time I arrived at Wat Arun, the main temples were already closed, but I was able to snap a few photos from outside the metal gates. I also made it into an adjacent temple for a nice, relaxing moment with another beautiful Buddha image.

Upon leaving, I found a small pier brandishing a ferry service straight across the river to Wat Pho, where I noticed a bus stop. I jumped on the next city bus that came my way, even though I didn’t know its exact route. The fact that it was heading North toward Banglamphu was enough. I figured if it started to veer off in another direction, I’d simply disembark and walk the rest of the way. As it turned out, the bus took me all the way to where I needed to go, just a block from the sandwich stall and my favorite Internet shop.

I stopped by a neighborhood Buddhist temple in Banglamphu called Wat Chana Songkhram, where I listened to the monks sing. It’s an amazing and wonderful thing to hear their solemn songs ring out in such a large, reverberant structure. I was also struck by a plethora of Buddha images that were lovingly covered with so much gold leaf over the years, their features were mostly obscured and the upper layers were peeling off. Oddly enough, when I walked around back to see more of the compound, I bumped into Gordon, the fellow I had met with the South Korean snorkelers the night before. I sure didn’t expect to see him at a Buddhist temple. He teaches English here in Thailand, which is a pretty common gig for foreigners.

Every Saturday night, there’s a buffet and a little bit of traditional Thai dance at May Kaidee’s, so I headed over there for a couple of hours of taste bud-teasin’ and eyeball-easin’ fun. In foodie circles, May is quite well-known, having worked her magic across several continents and even on TV. Originally a poor country girl from the Northeast province of Issan, May started working at her Aunt’s Bangkok restaurant in the 1980s. May opened her own restaurant later in that decade, which spawned many imitators along the same alley, and she’s since opened a second in Bangkok and a third in Chiang Mai. May also teaches cooking classes seven days a week, and copies of the second edition of her cookbook fly out the door. Can you say success story?

I jumped on the Chao Phraya river taxi to catch a cool breeze, but, unfortunately, they had installed some clear, plastic splash guards that blocked most of the air. But, soon after, the ever-present blast of air conditioning on the Skytrain offered a brief relief from the tropical heat. I walked around downtown for a while, stopping to sit and people watch whenever I could find some stairs that overlooked the street. I bought a pretzel coated with fine garlic powder that almost made me choke to death! Ha-ha.

I usually catch bus 15 from Siam Square back to Banglamphu, but tonight I thought I’d walk up the street a ways to avoid sitting on the sweatbox while it sat in stopped traffic for a half hour. But, I waited over an hour at the next stop, but the bus never showed up. I asked a local and he advised me to go back to Siam, which I did. I waited there for another hour as some dudes threw metal poles into the back of a big truck, which created the most annoying racket I had heard in the past hour. It was half past midnight and I just wanted to go back to my room. I asked a young lady about bus 15, but she said it had probably stopped for the night. Instead, we shared a cab ride.

Back in Banglamphu, I returned to the same food cart I had visited the night before for another cheese baguette sandwich. I overheard an American guy talking to two girls from Austria. Not so much a conversation, it was more like the man had launched into a 30-minute intellectual soliloquy chock-full of big words and obscure American references that flew right over their heads. But, at least I was amused. After the girls departed, a young couple from South Korea sat down for dinner next to me wearing full-on snorkeling gear. I asked if they had been snorkeling in their hotel pool, but they said no. They had just returned from an island 10 hours away in South Thailand. I have no idea why they were still wearing their snorkeling gear in Bangkok, of all places. Maybe to more efficiently combat the high humidity.

Still recovering from all of my travels around Myanmar and back into Thailand, I slept in really late again for the third day in a row. In the late afternoon, after a late lunch at May Kaidee’s, I finally went for a walk. I thought about hopping on the Chao Phraya river taxi to feel some of that cool river breeze. Instead, still feeling the gastro-intestinal effects of that awful Myanmar food, I got sidetracked at Santichaiprakarn Park, where I sat down on some sandbags and relaxed. A young German traveler, whose name I forgot, joined me. He said he never forgets a face and that he remembered me from the Red Dragon hostel in Kuala Lumpur, but unfortunately, I didn’t recall seeing him. He has been on the road in Southeast Asia for several months and will continue until the end of this year. He stays in only the barest bones cheapest rooms, eats only street food and walks around seeing only free sights.

After he left, I bought a drink and sat on a concrete bench right by the water while the crazy aerobics ladies started up their daily techno pop-fueled workout. A friendly Thai man, whose name I didn’t catch, started up a conversation with me. Due to the loud music and his strong accent, it was hard to tell what he was saying, but I did catch that he is 35 and works for Nissan, where he makes about $350 per month. This guy had such a jovial, animated personality, it was pretty funny. At one point, a big wave from a boat came up, splashed against the river wall and all over my right side. My camera was in my right pocket, but, luckily, it was nestled safe inside its case. I moved to another bench a few yards away from the water.

The Thai guy said goodbye and another local–this one a lady–started talking to me. It’s amazing how many Thai people are so friendly and outgoing, especially toward foreigners. People in the United States hardly ever approach me just to talk, but in Thailand, it happens quite frequently. Sure, some of them end up trying to sell you something, but many others do not. Back to the lady: her name is Pim, she is also in her 30s and works in a massage shop off of the Thanon Khao San tourist center. Like many Thai people, she is very poor, and shares a one-room apartment with two other women. Her personality was more subdued than the Thai fellow I just met, and she seemed very humble and kind. After we chatted for an hour or so, I decided to head back to my room, stopping for a yummy veggie and cheese sandwich at a food stall on the way.

Let’s talk about chow. More specifically, restaurant service in Southeast Asia. After all of the awful food in Myanmar that gave me diarrhea twice in two weeks, I was so stoked to be back in Bangkok and eating good food again. But, a kid that works the floor at my favorite restaurant messed up twice today. The first time was at lunch when it was really busy. I had been sitting and waiting for 10 minutes for a menu when a couple of other guys came in and sat down. The kid instantly brought them menus. As he walked by, I waved, but he still ignored me. I had to walk up to the counter to get someone else’s attention to place my order.

The second time was at dinner later in the evening. When I walked in and sat down, the place was devoid of customers. A moment later, a family of four entered and sat at the table next to me. I ordered, then they did. A little while later, the same kid served them their appetizers and my food, which they were puzzled over but started chowing down anyway. I thought it was probably mine, but I wasn’t totally sure, so I didn’t say anything. A while later, the staff finally figured it out and re-made my food, but it took forever, and the family was almost finished eating by the time I even got started. I never even got an apology.

I know the concept of restaurant service in Southeast Asia is very different from the West. At almost every restaurant I’ve eaten at down here in every country–even really nice ones in Bali–the wait staff just seats you, takes your order, brings your food and that’s it. They just ignore you from that point on. If you want anything else, even your check, you have to flag them down. But the situation today was different. I know everyone makes mistakes, but two major blunders in one day? I say it’s time to teach that kid to pay attention to what he’s doing and to what’s going on in the restaurant. Come on, I’m starving here! And I’m trying to support your restaurant.

Another travel day started out with a little more painfully slow Myanmar Internet, then the myriad of strange and colorful sights and sounds that can besiege you in Southeast Asia worked their magic. Around 3:00 p.m., as I climbed into a taxi cab with two Frenchies, a random procession of novice Buddhist monks chanted as they slowly paraded down the street in front of the Motherland II Inn. I quickly dug my camera out of my backpack to get a shot. A little bit later, I was bummed I had packed my camera away again when we passed a couple of guys hauling a dozen dead chickens tied to each of their bicycles. Immigration out of Myanmar and back into Thailand went smoothly, and I caught a city bus back into Banglamphu, a 45-minute ride away, for only a dollar! Donna Guest House didn’t have any single rooms open, so I found a slightly dirty one at Nat II Guest House down the alley. It’s pretty amazing how well the Southeast Asia travel / accommodation infrastructure works–if you stay on the beaten path.