Note to self: follow the crowds when you don’t know where you are going. We trudged around the whole damn complex in the blazing heat looking for the entrance. “Does Buddha approve of lying?” I asked the driver that approached us. He had a good laugh and got out of our way. Right before collapse from heat stroke, we stumbled into the Grand Palace.
After the shirt of shame incident at Bang Pa-In Palace, I dressed very carefully for our visit to the Grand Palace. I was covered to my elbows. The Guard pulled me aside and pointed to this sign
And the next thing I knew, I was wrapped in the Sarong of Shame. Goody!! I always like wearing extra, itchy clothes (that other sweaty people had just worn) in the blazing heat. Apparently my shins were to revealing.
I liked this sign about How to Behave and Where Up Is. Handy information.
The Palace Guard was wearing a wool uniform. Ugh. I quit bitching about my sarong of shame.
Leslie was chortling about my wardrobe malfunction when she got pulled aside and assigned her own sarong. HA! She liked this God.
This fat, jolly God guarded the entrance. He was dressed sensibly for the heat.
The Grand Palace was a golden city.
Every temple was bejeweled
All this tile was hand painted
There were rain catchers with lily pads everywhere. I wanted to sit in one to cool off.
Mythical animals guarded this palace. These roosters stood over the entrance to a temple.
This lion guarded the entrance to a Wat
Five headed cobras called Nagi guarded the stairways. The Nagi also protected Buddha during his meditations.
This Guy was taller than the streetlight.
Everywhere we looked, the Palace was jammed with people. Tourist overload!
We were hungry, but couldn’t imagine a Thai-Italian mash up.
There was a model of the ancient Cambodian worship complex of Angkor Wat. That part of Cambodia had once been under Thai rule.
It suddenly occurred to me that I’d never be back to this part of the planet. I decided I was going to Cambodia to see Angkor Wat before I left Asia. I didn’t want to miss the opportunity
My Girl and I took the riverboat back. It was jammed. We’d had so much fun together. She was leaving for home the next day. By the time I got home in another month, she’d be living in her first apartment. My girl was launched, a college graduate, world traveler, gainfully employed independent living adult. It made me sniffy.
“Check out the tattoos on that Australian,” I whispered to her.
“Your elbow touched a Monk just now,” she whispered back. “In your next life you’re coming back as a dung beetle during a monsoon.”