There are three ways to cross by sea between Atlantic and Pacific at the bottom of the world: the Drake Passage (that great open stretch of ocean to Antartica), the Strait of Magellan (the convoluted waterway defining Tiera del Fuego, the land of islands to its south), and the Beagle Channel almost to Cape Horn. That is where we find Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world, on the northern shore of the Beagle Channel, the jumping off point for ships destined for Antartica or, as are we, a rounding of Cape Horn and an onward journey through islands and up glacier-headed fjords on our way to Punta Arenas, Chile.

While enjoying long December days in a city closer to the South Pole than to Buenos Aires (a 3 1/2 hour flight away), we also became aware that it is actually a much more temperate climate here than we had expected and closer to that at home than the climate in, for instance, Alaska. Very maritime and a less extreme latitude than up north. We were also incredibly fortunate in being spared the usual excessive rain and cloudiness for which the region is infamous.

Beyond spectacular nature, the only tourist attraction in town is an old and rather notorious prison (why else do utterly remote regions exist?) that supplied forced labor for mining, enabled by the world’s southernmost railway. We did find a good café for coffee and baked goods and lots of shops for outdoor gear and end of the earth mementos.

With a quiet walk in an Argentine National Park, we began our exploration of how nature feels in Patagonia and in Tiera del Fuego before boarding the Chilean vessel that would take us further and further into what remains wilderness, barely touched by man. Fortunately, the two nations reached an amicable resolution to national borders that enabled our smooth journey through this region.

How difficult it is to capture the essence of a city in a short visit, especially a place like Buenos Aires, a city bursting with vitality and a kind of hubris, yet smothered in layers of sophistication, corruption and sorrow. It is a beautiful city and relatively easy to navigate, with quite distinct and vibrant neighborhoods where one can feel safe, if cautiously so.

The Teatro Colón (Columbus Theater) is, for example, one of the world’s great opera houses (ranked by experts as #1 in the world for acoustics for opera), with the current structure opening in 1908. It was built in that 50 year period (1880-1930) when Buenos Aires and Argentina were on top of the world, with a prosperity attracting huge influxes of immigrants, surpassing even the United States. We were fortunate when visiting the theater to be able to slip in to overhear some auditions for principal roles in an upcoming production.

Best known as the home Cathedral of Archbishop Jorge Bergoglio, now Pope Francis, the Catedral Metropolitana (1827) is also the resting place of the great liberator General José de San Martín guarded by three enormous statues representing Argentina, Chile and Peru, reburied here in 1880 from his home in Paris (being a bit of an absentee liberator), along with two other generals and Argentina’s Unknown Soldier. Elsewhere in the Cathedral is a statue of the Virgin of Luján with a memorial to the victims of both the holocaust and the bombings of Jewish sites in the 1990’s. In addition to very large Italian and German immigrant populations, Buenos Aires has always had a very large Jewish community.

Occupying one entire end of the Plaza de Mayo, the city’s most important square, the Casa Rosada (“Pink House”) is the seat of Argentina’s government and the official office of the President. Famously, in the 1940’s and 1950’s it’s from this balcony that Juan and Evita Perón addressed the nation.

La Recoleta, the city’s premier cemetery (on a par with its famous counterparts in New Orleans and Paris) is the eternal home of many illustrious characters, many who died too young, but none still inspire a respectful queue of admirers like the immortal Evita Perón. And, yes, the country is still divided almost equally between Perónists and rightists, with a recently elected libertarian economist President Milei making strides in stifling absurd levels of inflation, albeit with draconian measures.

And then there are the neighborhoods, like the colorful La Boca,

enjoying ice cream in a galleria or the alfajores bought in the shop just above,

as well as walking the public spaces,

and wondering why Argentinians are so obsessed with fútbal (how many times were we reminded of the triumph of their World Cup win?), even more than with the tango born along the docks of this proud city, as it struggles to overcome the trauma of the brutal dictatorship with the thousands of “disappeared” whose mothers were a constant presence at the Plaza de Mayo and those years upon years of devastating inflation. It’s easy to feel the allure of Buenos Aires.

for a deep down south Halloween: haunted houses, escape rooms,

checking out the replica of the space shuttle Independence mounted on the original NASA 905 Shuttle Carrier Aircraft at Houston’s Johnson Space Center (while in the neighborhood?),

and, of course, ’gators.

We successfully resolved the matter of a seance going seriously awry in Houston. 13th Gate in Baton Rouge was also a worthy destination for its haunted house and a most challenging escape room.

Then on to the woefully unvisited Capitol Park Museum in Baton Rouge. A (in all seriousness) fantastic place to absorb what it is to be Louisiana. Everything from the obligatory pre-history to the founding narrative, slavery’s central role, food (we’re talking Creole here), music (complete with lots of very well done listening stations), and a substantial area deservedly devoted to one Huey P. Long, the larger-than-life insanely corrupt populist Governor and U.S. Senator, cut down by assassination right there in the Capitol .

It was, of course, Huey who built the Capitol (tallest in the USA, mind you) . . .

. . . and he’s buried out front. Robert Penn Warren’s All the King’s Men, inspired by Huey Long is a great read and is, shall we say, very closely inspired by the man’s life (to get the flavor of how it was).

The Governor also built the Old Governor’s Mansion, annoying the legislature by creating the need for one by simply tearing down the existing Governor’s Mansion (leading to one of the votes on impeachment). The current Mansion is air conditioned, so the “Old” one built by Huey is now a museum and a place to hold weddings (sufficiently confused?). That’s his office, above. He was admitted to the bar, overcoming a lack of any degree whatsoever, even the one from High School. Huey was not one for formalities.

Dynastic ambitions fulfilled, Huey’s son Earl was elected Governor 3 times despite a brief institutionalization, alternating terms with . . .

You Are My Sunshine Governor Jimmie Davis, whose mother-in-law made him that quilt on the bed from a bunch of once-fashionable silk neckties.

Appeals are posted in the bathrooms of the now-a-museum asking the enterprising public to return missing items, such as the purple toilet and tub (to match the orphaned sink).

The Old Capitol is also now a museum (with the preponderance of space devoted to Huey P. Long) and venue. The gothic style is quite beautiful, if a bit more plain than the current edifice.

A visit to the Deep South isn’t complete without stopping by a Plantation, in our case one right in Baton Rouge- Magnolia Mound, dating from the beginning of the 19th century. We don’t know why “Mound,” but Louisiana has many, many Native American mounds, most close by the Mississippi but extending well up into Canada.

And, how can you go to Louisiana and not into the gritty heart of the beast, aka New Orleans? It had been seven years, providing a chance for a different perspective (but, without giving up an evening of music along Frenchmen Street).

(Yes, it was a bigger venue on Canal Street for the Tedeschi Trucks Band and no, we hadn’t been in a Tiki Bar in a very long time, if then.)

We paid a visit to the Hermann-Grima House Museum on St. Louis Street in the French Quarter (built in 1831 and complete with a three story slave quarters, there on your left, under the watchful eye of the house) on a Monday morning first thing, the morning of our flight home, a tour billed with an urban slavery theme and one of our better choices. We all need an occasional regrounding in American history and what better place than the Spanish-French-American city that, controlling access to the Mississippi River, not only was the key to internal commerce all the way up to Ohio, but was the very epicenter of the unbelievably cruel trade in innocent human beings, as well as a thriving, freewheeling experiment in the fusion of cultures, giving us Mardi Gras, voodoo, blues, jazz, funk and amazing food (you gotta love that shrimp and grits), all in a state that still leads the nation in the percentage of its population who are not free, i.e. incarcerated (one out of every ten people).

But, enough with all that. Let’s have another beignet in Jackson Square, then be gone, making good our escape.

We decided to go to Woodstock because we’d never been there and it seemed like a nice little town in a state we knew to be beautiful, enough of a reason to drive out for a long weekend.

On our way into town, we stopped by Quechee Gorge and hiked from the visitor center by the road down into the gorge where people go to enjoy a swim in the Ottauquechee River (despite it taking quite a bit of effort to get there – and back), as well as over the road and along a forested path to take a look at the dam all hooked up to generate electricity.

We also stopped by Simon Pearce in Quechee to browse the glassware and see the glassblowing hot shop downstairs, although most of the workers had just gone on break. We’d seen glassblowing before, but not glass being poured into small individual molds with the care even that operation takes.

It’s easy to forget while enjoying the lush forests of New England that the land had been almost entirely clear cut in the early 19th century in the service of sheep. That’s why all those lovely stone walls meander through woods and mountains in what now seem the most unlikely places.

Marsh-Billings-Rockefeller National Historical Park was created to tell the story of the conservation movement and land stewardship through the history of the three families who lived in the house over time.

It’s a beautiful house. The woodwork is exquisite, the artwork quite nice. But, it’s the stories of those who lived there that were so well told by the ranger. George Perkins Marsh (1801-1882) grew up here loving and paying close attention to nature. After a few terms in Congress, Marsh served as a diplomat and was struck in his travels that humans had “brought the earth to a desolation almost as complete as that of the moon.” His Man and Nature (1864) was hugely influential and became a founding text of the conservation and environmental movement, arguing as it did for responsible stewardship of the land. Another Vermont native, Frederick Billings (1823-1890) purchased the Marsh property in 1869 and, appalled by the silted rivers and other devastation caused by the sheep industry, used his fortune accumulated as a San Francisco lawyer during the gold rush to convert the land to dairy cattle and rebuild the forests with scientific management. His wife and daughters continued his work after his death and into the next generation until his granddaughter Mary French married Laurence Rockefeller (whose family is justifiably admired for their support of conservation) in 1934. The Rockefellers then gifted the property as a National Park.

We have no idea why the pond (largely manmade) on the top of a ridge above the house and reached by 19th century carriage roads is called The Pogue. Current usage is derogatory, but the word’s origin is Irish for “kiss.” It’s a nice little destination and likely the reason it’s there, just under 2 miles from the house.

We’ve hiked networks of carriage roads and seen plenty of horse troughs, but none quite like this beauty situated at an intersection and fed from The Pogue.

Staying, as we were, in the heart of downtown Woodstock just a very short walk from The Green, we were also a short walk from Faulkner Park and the 19th century switchback trail up to the south peak of Mount Tom, making it a much less strenuous hike than straight up the mountain and popular with camp counselors taking young campers for a hike.

Always up for a detour into marginally obscure history, we headed out to Plymouth or Plymouth Notch, a tiny agricultural settlement not far from Woodstock where (born on the 4th of July) Calvin Coolidge (1872-1933) was born and raised, sworn in as President by his father (a Justice of the Peace) when Warren Harding shocked the nation by dying, and established his summer White House in the little dance hall above the general store. We arrived at the crossroads just as a state park ranger was beginning a tour, so we hopped in.

One of the most striking things about the Coolidge birthplace is that everything in the house(s) and outbuildings is from his time and are the actually furnishings, not antiques from that era brought in to provide an approximation of the time. So, above, is the bed in which Coolidge was born, in the room where he was born, covered with the quilt his grandmother had made. Honestly, it brought some shivers of recognition to Jim, reminding him of his grandparents and “home” in Central PA.

Then there’s the yoke believed to have been carved by a young Calvin for himself to help in carrying heavy buckets of maple sap. It was a different era, shall we say.

Coolidge’s father even, for a time, was a rural delivery mail carrier bridging, as did Jim’s grandfather, the era of horseback and horse-drawn delivery and the automobile.

More than adequately steeped in nostalgia, we sought out another maple creemee (https://www.woodstockscoops.com/copy-of-maple-creemee) and headed home to Cape Cod.

These mountains got their start one billion years ago in a slam of tectonic plates pushing as high as the Rockies then wearing down these last 250 million years to become sand on ocean beaches. It’s easy to forget how massive and formidable a barrier the Appalachian Mountains presented to 18th century settlers who pushed west with or without the apparent acquiescence of Native Americans. From northern Newfoundland all the way to Alabama, they were the definition of “frontier” and retain some of that feeling, though more recently acquiring some cachet and kindling some pride in those of us who grew up among them.

We began our journey by heading west from Cape Cod through Massachusetts and New York where we stopped for a hike (a primary purpose of our trip) and stumbled on a number of those stone walls you find everywhere in mountainous New England that cleared the fields and demarcated the clear cut land, primarily for sheep.

We stopped on our way south at Winchester VA to see the Museum of the Shenandoah Mountains with its beautiful gardens and a surprising collection of very large doll houses (with little ladders to help you view them) put together by one of the men who created and lived on the estate.

And then Roanoke VA to visit the O. Winston Link Museum featuring his photographs of . . . steam engines and trains. (Please forgive the photo of a photo.) Link was a master of lighting and composition at the very end of the steam age. We could also indulge Jim’s fascination with the link to his grandfather who sat in one of those towers along the tracks and used telegraphy to communicate the whereabouts of trains.

Making our way down to southern Virginia, we stopped by the Blue Ridge Music Center in Galax, where there are midday informal concerts and demonstrations of either old time music or bluegrass (being fancier concert music, rather than for dancing). The Fisher Peak Timber Rattlers played old time music and the fiddler just grew up learning to hold the fiddle that way. Inside is a museum of American music and instruments.

Outside, the Park Service maintains some beautiful trails and a large amphitheater where you can catch big name bluegrass and country performers.

The Blue Ridge Parkway – linking Shenandoah National Park in Virginia with the Great Smoky Mountains National Park- really is a remarkable road weaving through the mountains at a comparatively leisurely 45 mph (if that) and benefiting from the careful attention of teams of landscape architects who laid a route maximizing the wow factor of what was already there, augmented by plantings heavy on rhododendrons that have been naturalizing since 1935. There are also abundant well marked hiking trails and lonely ranger outposts along the way to make sure you get a workout or the help you need, if you want.

The family of Moses Cone (whose business at one time was the world’s largest manufacturer of denim) donated his 3800 acre mountain retreat and mansion with 25 miles of carriage roads to the Park Service in 1950. Spoiler alert: the rather-grand-for-the-mountains house is only the second largest in these parts. Too bad we forgot to bring our horses.

All along the Parkway there are hikes to waterfalls and, during our travels, fog and rain, and lots of fog.

Or, simply steep hikes to a fogged in view.

Or, sitting in the car fogged in views.

Then there was Biltmore. The Mansion. The Estate. Outside of present day Asheville, NC (nice city with a very active and creative art scene).

Where the Vanderbilts owned those mountains, too.

The Gardens.

The House. Totally, literally, crazy. Beautiful, gorgeous, all those words (of course), but completely crazy and a compelling indictment of wealth. That swimming pool was built before the modern era of chlorine and filtering systems and, so, was drained and scrubbed down after every use. We might admire the Family for opening up the house and grounds for (quite expensive) tours, but the sheer existence of the place is, again, simply crazy – all the more so because the builder, the founder, of Biltmore was not the man who created the wealth (Cornelius), but his grandson George whose sole occupation was spending it. Still, clearly worth a visit.

These are the Smoky Mountains and this The Great Smoky Mountains National Park, not far from Asheville and at the southernmost end of the Blue Ridge Parkway where it leaves you by the town of Cherokee and the Qualla Reservation of the Cherokee Nation.

Elk had become extinct in the East. The Park Service transferred elk from Yellowstone and, as you’ll notice in the photo above, outfit every elk in the park with a GPS monitoring collar to keep track of how they’re doing.

We’d never seen such an abundance of waterfalls.

Up a small road deep in the park is a settlement of summer homes built by people from Knoxville who brought along their help (see lower right). The Park Service intended to tear them down, but were foiled by someone filing for historical protection. So, they will stand preserved with volunteers telling the story of children left to play in the streams and summers at ease.

We stayed on both sides of the park, in Cherokee in NC and in Townsend in Tennessee (wisely avoiding Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge). We chose Townsend to be as close as we could get to Cades Cove, the go to place for spotting black bears. There’s a one-way narrow single lane loop road circling the cove after a considerable drive in with a stream of cars patiently scanning the fields and woods for deer, elk and bears. A cluster of cars parked haphazardly on the side means someone has seen something and people get out and share a scope or a look through a telephoto lens. And then you might get lucky, as we did, with our strategy of heading over there after dinner and in early morning.

Also, there were crows. But, we felt fortunate to be in the park when we were – in May – not wanting to imagine how crowded it must be in the peak of the season when we passed popular trailheads overflowing with cars parked up and down the road after the parking areas quickly filled if you hadn’t arrived in early morning.

Taking advantage of our latitude, we headed further south to visit an arts and crafts school in Brasstown (in other words, the middle of nowhere) that dates way back and has a curriculum for visiting adults that ranges from banjo picking to blacksmithing. It was fun and the quality of work was impressive. We later figured out that there are schools like this all over the country, with a lot of them in New England.

Trees

BY JOYCE KILMER

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

[Joyce Kilmer, “Trees” from Poetry 2, no. 5 (August 1915): 153.]

Heading even further south near to the Georgia border we managed to find the very remote Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest (named for the soldier/author of Trees and one of those poets killed in action in the trenches of WWI), one of the very few surviving old growth forests in America. We had begun to doubt Google Maps (having been led to take some highly questionable routes), but the Forest Service website advised they were the only ones to trust. The two ladies on a smoke break who confirmed directions for us wary travelers assured us we were welcome even with our northern license plate and hoped we’d stay a while.

After visiting friends in Greenville SC and family around Harrisburg (where we stocked up on birch beer), we continued our return north and east.

As our final stop before home on Cape Cod, we stopped in New Paltz, NY to take a look at a 17th century Huguenot village in honor of Amanda’s Huguenot heritage and the Hudson River from the vantage point of an old railroad bridge repurposed as an actually very nice walking and biking trail the width of the river (and well beyond).

The Chao Phraya is a busy river running through the heart of Bangkok, although technically between Bangkok (the side of the Royal Palace) and Thonburi (the side of Wat Arun, where we were staying). The longtail boats (with a propeller powered by a truck engine at the end of a long shaft that also serves as the rudder) really zip along. Upper left, by the way, is a lock connecting one of the many canals to the river.

On our last day in Bangkok, before a late night flight, we took the public fast ferry to a stop not far from the National Museum. We were grateful that our six nights in Bangkok seemed to have earned us a very late checkout at the hotel since the extreme heat would make a pre-departure shower a welcome luxury.

The National Museum certainly lives up to its name (although there are additional locations around the country). It’s one of those museums where you’re feeling overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of fascinating material you’re seeing and then realize that you’ve only scratched the surface and you have room after room to go. Like the Met, only with more buildings.

The King Ram Khamhaeng Inscription (discovered at Sukhothai in 1833) had been moved into a special exhibition space along with other “priceless documents.” From 1292, it records the origin of the Thai script and language and provides a description of life in and the norms of the ancient city of Sukhothai (predecessor of Ayutthaya as the capital of the nation).

Of interest to us was the Treaty of Amity and Commerce between the United States and Siam, aka the Roberts Treaty, in a manuscript in Thai, Portuguese, Chinese, and English.

One of the holiest Buddha images in Thailand after the Emerald Buddha in the Grand Palace, Phra Buddha Sihing was brought to Bangkok in 1787 by Rama I from Chiang Mai and is thought to be from the 13th century. It presides in the Buddaisawan Chapel with some stunning murals surrounding it.

(One of those overwhelming “wow” spaces.)

A comparatively small teak house, The Red House, is also among the many buildings on the Museum grounds. It had been the personal quarters of Rama I’s older sister, moved from Thonburi, and then of Rama II’s Queen. Among the artifacts on display were some mended figures (the heads re-affixed) that served as a sort of talisman or magical figure that would suffer death so that a human would not, but would be protected from harm.

On the left, an 8th century stele from Ayutthaya Province depicting miracles at Savatthi where the Buddha spent most of his monastic life. On the right, multiple Dhamma wheels, each symbolizing the Buddha’s teachings. After reaching enlightenment, the Buddha set the wheel of Dhamma in motion with his first sermon in Sarnath.

All 6-12th centuries, all from Thailand, except Ganesh, a gift of the Dutch from Java.

From 13th century Sukhothai, the bronze Harihara is a synthesis of Shiva and Vishnu, i.e. “All is One,”and the highest god for followers of both Shiva and Vishnu, combining the powers of Shiva who destroys the world in order to build a new one and Vishnu who protects and maintains the world.

Royal insignia, a palanquin, Royal thrones, battle drums to signal troops to advance with prayers written in Khmer characters and the Pali language, all from the 19th century.

Khon performance dates from Ayutthaya and is an all-male dance performance to narration and music, typically of stories from the Ramayana.

Bang Pa-In Palace

Royal residences on Bang Pa-In island go back to the Ayutthaya era when King Prasat Thong had a palace built in the 17th century, now long since destroyed. It was Rama IV who returned and constructed the first temporary residence in the 19th century. It wasn’t until the 1870s and 1880s that most of the current buildings were erected. Today the palace is used only occasionally as a residence and for receptions.

In 1880 Rama V dedicated this small Khmer-style shrine to King Prasat Thong, whose name literally means King of the Golden Palace because a miniature golden palace was discovered during his reign. The tree is from a cutting from the sacred Bodhi tree and is protected by eight boundary stones (“sema” or “sima”) that ordinarily surround a bot (ordination hall) within a temple.

In 1876 Rama V built this copy of a pavilion in the Grand Palace that was used for changing regalia prior to mounting a palanquin (you know, the big box you sit in while a bunch of men carry it around on poles). A statue of the King now stands in its center. The covered bridge with louvered walls behind it to the left connected the semicircular building (a gate for the King’s use, now used for exhibitions) to the Royal Residence (part of the Inner Palace). The ladies of the Court could look out from the bridge without being observed by those in the Outer Palace grounds (the public area accessible to people who were not part of the royal household).

A favorite residence of Rama VI, the Chinese gifted this residence to Rama V. It possessed the first elevator in Thailand. Alas, it would have been nice to be able to go inside the various residences, but walking the grounds of the Summer Palace(s) did reveal once again the beauty that can be created with absolute power and unlimited resources. 😉

Ayutthaya

As is often the case, Ayutthaya the 14th century Siamese capital, sacked in the 18th century, is now wrapped around and through by 21st century Ayutthaya. It lies at the confluence of three rivers, including the Chao Phraya. There are ruins everywhere, temples everywhere, Buddha statues everywhere. We saw ruins, but not so much the better preserved bits around the city, such as a Catholic Church that survived the sack. The capital was named for Ayodhya, a fictional kingdom in the Ramakien, the Thai Ramayana.

The wihan or shrine hall of Wat Lokaya Sutharam housing this 140’ long Buddha was destroyed by the Burmese only leaving some brick pillars. The Buddha image represents his increasing his size 100 fold to confront the demon Rahu.

People can “make merit” by purchasing the cloth and draping the Buddhas.

All of these Buddhas have the same hand gesture of Calling the Earth to Witness. Depictions of the Buddha do feature different hand gestures having different meanings. This gesture refers to his coming to enlightenment and overcoming the temptations set forth by the demon Mara.

The Buddha head may have been separated from the body by the Burmese or by later thieves, no one knows for sure. But, what is remarkable is that it has been embraced (seemingly protected) by the Bodhi tree in an upright position. As with all Buddha figures, it is treated with respect and has become an iconic image for the country.

A horrific story from World War II is most remembered because of a work of fiction and the movie based on it. While exploring themes of loyalty and obsession, the novel does, however, capture the enormity of the actual events.

Resupply of Japanese forces in Burma (now Myanmar) by sea was threatened by Allied forces, causing the Japanese to dust off old ideas about a railroad to be routed through the mountainous jungle from Thailand. The Japanese assembled a slave workforce comprised of 60,000 Allied prisoners of war and 200,000 impressed Tamil, Javanese, Chinese, Malay, Burmese, and Thai laborers (“Romusha”) of whom an estimated 12,500 POWs and tens of thousands of Romusha died. Through the exercise of brutality and disregard for life, a task thought to require five years was completed in 16 months, despite POW efforts at sabotage.

The Hellfire Pass Interpretive Centre and Memorial Walkway was created and maintained by the Australian government in honor of those who died here. It is an excellent and sobering museum.

We elected (it being well over 100°F) to walk down through the first (Konyu) cutting and to the Memorial (1 km round trip), rather than the >5 km round trip through 5 more cuttings for which you are required to carry a safety radio.

The VFW erected this memorial plaque last year (2023) to commemorate the approximately 690 Americans among the Allied POWs, most captured on Java. It does not record whether any of those died in the building of the railroad. Our neighbor’s father was among the Dutch POWs forced to labor on the construction of the railroad, having also been captured on Java. He, fortunately, survived. We wished we had brought something to leave at the memorial.

We walked back up to our van, a cold bottle of water and a ride back to Bangkok.

We stayed on in Bangkok so that we could spend time with extended family.

Jim Thompson House and Museum

First stop was the Jim Thompson House where we had lunch to mixed reviews by our hosts who weren’t convinced that the Spanish chef was creating versions of Thai cuisine that were entirely satisfactorily, at least for Thai tastes. Of course, we thought it was really good.

Thompson (on the left) was a former architect, American army officer, OSS (CIA) who became a businessman and designer credited with not only saving the Thai silk industry after WWII, but really putting it on the map in the fashion industry. He settled in Thailand after the war and became one of the most famous people in Southeast Asia before mysteriously disappearing in 1967 while in the highlands of Malaysia. His legacy is not only a fashion business that bears his name, but a remarkable house he designed and constructed on a Khlong (canal) from six traditional teak houses he salvaged, mostly from Ayutthaya province, that is filled with a stellar collection of Southeast Asian art and antiques.

While he followed tradition in having much of the house elevated a full story above the ground and using high thresholds between rooms (either something about containing ghosts or crawling children), he went his own way in having an internal staircase and turning the wall panels around so that exterior decoration was now on the inside.

Khlong Bang Luong and the Artist House

We next were taken to a very relaxing place on one of the canals that’s frequented only by Thais (finding it wasn’t even easy for locals) and ogled by the foreign tourists going by in boats . . .

. . . to simply enjoy being together to while away the time working on crafts, eating, talking, and taking in the scene.

You just had to be careful on the little bridge over the khlong, as the motorbikes like to use it too!

A Nighttime Cruise on the Chao Phraya

Nongnooch Botanical Garden, Pattaya

The next day, a few of us headed out of the city and down to Chonburi Province and the city of Pattaya where we had a great lunch.

Nongnooch Gardens covers 500 acres with an absolutely astonishing (honestly, overwhelming) quantity of plants in rows, in piles and constructions, everywhere, in the open, under cover, and in elevated areas, row after row after row – a testament to what you can do with abundant water and sunshine.

There are also vast constructed landscapes, some religious in inspiration, others mimicking the grandeur of foreign places.

And then there are the dinosaurs (and other contemporary animals).

The Sanctuary of Truth, Pattaya

Perched above the Gulf of Thailand, the Sanctuary of Truth Museum is the largest wooden castle in the world. Constructed using traditional techniques (for instance, no nails) beginning in 1981, it remains a construction site and visitors must wear hardhats.

It is one of three museum projects conceived and executed by Thai businessman Lek Viriyaphan (1914-2000) in an effort to inculcate values derived from the major Eastern traditions through an ongoing massive sacred art installation . . .

. . . art intended to address the major issues facing people, “Who are we? Where are we from? How do we survive? and what is our life purpose?” as well as convey the five missions of humans and the seven truths by which we should live. Although inspired by the temples of Ayutthaya, the museum draws from multiple religious and artistic traditions.

Will it ever be completed? Perhaps not.

The Monarchy

Photographs of King Rama X are prominent throughout the country. Kingship of a unified Siam/Thailand was created in 1238 by the founder of the Kingdom of Sukhothai and continued as an absolute monarchy until 1932 when a constitution was granted.

The current dynasty was founded in 1782 when an Ayutthaya military leader seized power and moved the capital across the river from Thonburi to Bangkok, taking with him the sacred Emerald Buddha. All Kings of the Chakri Dynasty take the name Rama, an incarnation of Vishnu. Based on estimates from 2019, Rama X is the wealthiest monarch in the world in terms of personal net worth, not including assets of the state, the government, or the crown as an institution, easily outdistancing the Sultan of Brunei ($43 billion vs. $28 billion). To criticize the monarchy remains a serious criminal offense. The Grand Palace is the official seat of the Royal House, although the King’s official residence is elsewhere. His father, Rama IX was especially popular with the people during his long reign.

The Grand Palace and Wat Phra Kaew

Once inside the walls of the Grand Palace, it’s clear it’s a city, a world, in and of itself. Inside the inside is the holiest of Buddhist temples in the country, Wat Phra Kaew, although one with no resident monks. It is where the Emerald Buddha resides. We, however, had little idea of what we were seeing as we moved along with the masses of visitors on a Sunday morning.

But, here we are at the Bot, the sacred building constructed for the Emerald Buddha. Legend has it that in Chiang Rai in the north of Siam in a temple also called Wat Phra Kaew lightening struck a chedi or stupa (a structure housing relics) one night in 1434 to reveal an image rendered in stucco which the abbot took into his residence. Much like what happened with the Golden Buddha more than 500 years later, the stucco flaked off to reveal an image of Buddha carved in jasper. It fell into Royal hands when the King of Chiang Mai sent his elephants to retrieve it.

Photographs are not permitted inside the Bot, but these images of the 26” tall Buddha dressed in costumes according to season are made available by the Palace. It is one of the duties of the King to personally ascend to the very high place above, in the large room where the Emerald Buddha presides, to change its costumes.

Wat Pho and the Reclining Buddha

Next door to the Grand Palace, Wat Pho is Bangkok’s oldest and largest temple and currently a center of traditional medicine housing the most respected massage school in the city. When he moved his capital to Bangkok, Rama I rebuilt the 16th century temple and enlarged it.

The King brought with him Buddha images from what could be salvaged of the prior sacked and now abandoned Siamese capitals at Sukhothai and Ayutthaya, so that the temple now has over 1,000 Buddha statues.

What brings people to Wat Pho, however, is the imposing gilded 150’ long plaster and brick Reclining Buddha, in its own chapel within the Wat, built by Rama III in 1832.