This has to be the craziest tree in the world. It takes up an entire island and its hanging roots plunge to the ground like hundreds of trunks, in the bowls of this monster is a shrine and trees are bedecked with strings of flowers, the ground scattered with monkey, horse, and elephant statues. Am old woman pursues me asking if I want a massage. A local family come to shake prayer sticks and an excited boyreadshis fortune from the one that falls out. I catch their eye and first they want me to take their picture, then they ask me to pose with them so they can take my pic too. They are overwhelmed with joy. Scattered around are small tables and chairs where teenagers are gathered. Across the bridge back on dry land is a long open shed of benches and food stalls where I get the usual pad Thai. The rain is spotting down on me.
Tiziano terzano’s is becoming even more relevant. I read his Bangkok chapter under the tree, and notice that there is actually a fortune teller lodged at the far corner of the island. More stick shakers. Some saffron figures, monks, glide through the trees. Back on dry land there is a stall selling bags of fish and turtles. Buy them and set them free for luck. It seems quite perverse that these creatures are bred and. Imprisoned and sold to bring people luck.
Cycle in the rain past the big square pond covered with lilies and water buffalo grazing the banks. I trace the site of the perimeter wall of the old town. The roads are still laid out in cruciform and the remains of each gate can be found at the ends of each cardinal artery.