Khao Yai

Notes from Khao Yai a few weeks ago:

 

The afternoon is sweet. A tree has entered the wooden gazebo outside the cabin. I hear the breeze rustling through the leaves; the engine of a distant motorbike, gradually approaching; crickets in the grass; the buzz of a fat fly; wild roosters stomping on dried leaves.

I see a blue sky; a butterfly; dried wood; the bug-bitten terrain of my legs; the sun and its prolonged hello; the fly on my knee; a tiny ant crawling on my foot and another one on my thigh; the road; the forest; the outdoor kitchen; swallows; the large stones my cousin and I carried from the water reservoir; the remains of a fire; oversized black lamps on the fence posts; my unused ipod shuffle; dragonflies.

The bees were busy last night, on site outside the room door. An emaciated monkey (or ghost) caused a ruckus in the closet, but no one dared to check on it. Perhaps it was deer underneath the cabin instead.

The morning slowly woke up around 6, when the elderly French-Thai couple were strolling down the road to the water. I imagined that I heard an elephant yawning.

No tiger today – its presence would confound the sense of serenity around this lodging zone. My mind is all atwitter, and I’m bothered by this persistent fly. Oh, it’s a bee.

music: rufus wainwright and kate mcgarrigle – talk to me of mendocino

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