The biggest kittens

Are playful little cats.

-Tiger Temple, Thailand, Summer 2011

Tiger-Tiger ice cream

Down into a sandy bowl we walk, the air hot and heavy on our heads. We’re split up at the queue and I step ahead to two women in purple t-shirts holding out their hands. At the first tiger, I don’t know what to do, so I kneel and place hand awkwardly on his back.

Twist my head around and see the calm cats will let you do almost anything, save for a tummy rub. Next pair I grab two tails, see a playful little growl. I find a young tiger and lay right down with it, petting top to bottom down to the tail.

Later we watch a monk play with a small tiger’s paws, sprawled out on his robe. In another area we watch them toss and turn in a pool of water, rolling lumber kittens in the middle of a fight.

Our guide shows us the other animals then nods towards the car, leading us to an afternoon elephant ride.

The Bridge on the River Kwai

From the morning shopping, the tour takes a somber turn. We pick up an English guide and enter a cemetery full of ally graves. From Japanese prison camps the soldiers marched into the country to build a railroad on to enemy troops in Burma.

On the stones, messages from home. Etched into one: Time Passes Swiftly By But Love and Memories Never Die. We probe for back-stories and current political grief. Through the rows of tombs we move on to the Bridge on the River Kwai.

The famous film created a tourist trap where we eat an extensive Thai buffet. We stuff ourselves with noodles, then cheese and coffee before a walk across the bridge pointed at the border. A phone call warns of water drops, so we speed on to the tigers before the rain.

The floating market

Like always, the morning comes too soon. We pull ourselves out of bed and make our way downstairs with big water bottles, not ready for the early rise. Our car and guide greets us and points the wheels out of town.

An hour later we wake up in a parking lot and are carted to a long, thin wooden boat. There a friendly Thai pulls the string on the motor and lets it whirl. We splash through the alleys of the market, stopping to buy fruit and mug at the scene.

Taylor sips from a straw stuck in a fruit, while I buy Thai boxer shorts. The palm leaves stretch out above as we glide past baskets hanging from the trees. We lap back past the old women selling mangoes and the men hawking beer. Pull back up to the car with luckily stuffed wallets, ready for lunch.

Royal problems

Gold plated royal propaganda runs rampant, grotesquely large, lining the main drag. Small sets of frames and stickers collage the sidewalks and crawl up the sides of apartments. Shops sell pictures, portraits, emblems, and flags.

The heads the rebels wanted just a year ago crane over their subjects from every angle. They look out on back alleys and eye into private homes. The country is still divided by the last politician who wanted to curtail the power, but no one speaks a word.

Zoology//democracy//art

With three days to go, there is no winning team. The streets are quiet enough, quiet as busy Bangkok gets. No screaming political prophets on the street corners of the backpack district, yet.

The cats don’t seem to care, in lazy sleep all over or crawling on pedestrian toes. Traffic stops for every passing set of legs. Still, the election looms. Posts are covered with suited lizards and tigers, an apparent jab from one opponent to the next.

Walk around the neighborhood taking pictures of all the propaganda, pretending its simple, mindless art.