It's completely unnecessary to smoke in Bangkok. All one needs to do is swallow a few lungfulls of the carbon monoxide-laden air, which can almost be cut into thick chunks and swallowed whole, it's so dense. The cold that I imported to Thailand from chilly, grey England has re-appeared, strengthened and made more aggressive thanks no doubt to the smoggy, polluted air that's eating into my lungs.
I was going to rest today, but I just couldn't bear to hang around aimlessly in a city that is nothing if not hyperactivelly energetic. I somehow found my way onto the right bus to bring me to Vinanmek Mansion, the former residence of King Rama V, which is built entirely out of teak. In fact, it's the largest teak structure in the world. There are no nails, no screws, instead the enormous three-storey structure is joined together by millions of pieces of teak dowel. I had a ticket already, as part of the entrance to the Grand Palace, so I thought I might as well make the most of it. On arrival I saw a young girl feeding a frenzied school of fish in a canal. Each time she threw in a piece of bread the water boiled, and a huge catfish, looking very much like a misplaced shark, thrust its muscular body through the water towards the girl's gift, but it was no match in speed and agility for the smaller animals.
Going inside I realised that my shorts weren't acceptable attire (I delivered a bag of clothes to the laundry this morning), as the building is venerated almost as a temple to the memory of the former king. I had to hire a pair of trousers to cover my hairy, mosquito-bitten indecency. The tour was conducted entirely barefoot out of respect for the memory of the king, (the overwhelming aroma of Thai temples is one of the mingled odours of human feet and incense), and our jolly host was highly entertaining. A collection of Remington typewriters was one of the more surprising displays inside the mansion, which is a museum when it's not in use as the present queen's favourite place to practise her skills on the piano. One of the most striking photographs was that of the diminutive former king surrounded by languourous Oxford college chums in their most dashing 1920s attire. Rigid with propriety at the centre of the picture, he couldn't contrast more greatly with the louche aristocratic Anglo-Saxons reclining around him.
On the way out I saw an adult monitor lizard basking in the moat, blinking and tasting the air. When he flashed underwater, startled by a sudden noise, I caught a glimpse of his full four-foot length before he disappeared into the murky green water.
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