Crumbled Farang Speak and undereducated Thai Farmers.

Thailand, Bangkok,

Just 12 Baht and well away from the heavily traffic jam is the Chao Praya ferry bringing me from Thanon Khao Sarn to Silom Road, a nice breeze in my face and plenty to look at, water traffic and huge fish hoping for a free hand-out from these noicy humans.

Monks passing me in the street dressed in their habituary orange robes, their shaven heads glimming in the strong rays of a yet early day - tourists carrying expensive video and camara equipment that is well beyond the dreams of most countryside Thais - another failed rice harvest and thausands of undereducated farmers will flock to this mega town hoping for a job, maybe selling Buddha amulets in the street or Tuk Tuk-transporting Farangs around a town where they know no streets, no directions though the location of tourist oriented prularia shops will son enough be registered in their gray brain mass, the amount of commission will determine who will be on top of their list - maybe in time they`ll be able to pay off their debt and return to their native village, try their hands one more time at rice farming.

Internet shops where young and sensual looking local females send e-mails to their sugar daddies back in far away Farang Land, the crumbled piece of paper full with hastily scrabbled sentenced in farang Speak a sort of mastercopy - if they find out I can speak some Thai they will surely want me to add some lovesick ryhmes to their Love List - wouldn`t be the first time!!!

Lumpini Park is an oasis of tranquility in an otherwise mad anthill of a human big town society. The only disturbance some huge monitor varans sunbaking in the fierce Thai sun and surrounded by short-sleeved Farangs with their trigger-happy fingers on the shutter.

Sukumvit Road is turning more and more into a second Patpong during its hey days. Attractive females eyeing me curiously - maybe a quick shorttime before their shift will start tonight at one of the many G0G0 Bars on Nana Plaza.

Though late afternoon I might as well walk all the way back to Thanon Khao Sarn instead of risking my very life on the back of one of these notoriously accident prone motorbike Taxi.

Maybe a few last beers at the Gecko Bar where people watching is the norm and on-the-road experiences are swapped in a multitute of Farang languages, contact easily made and everybody new in town eager to find out about the cheapest guest houses, the quickest way to get south to tropical beaches seen in travel brochures back home and drooled over untill they got sticky.