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Under A Full Moon And The Golem Tree Part 2

  • Written by Cent
  • February 7th, 2004
  • 5 min read



Sis and I gathered our stuff for the trip to town and piled into the truck. We were both a bit groggy yet, our hair still wet from our showers, mumbling our goodbyes to my wife and daughter, and Sis 2, who had brought Sis a list of needed supplies for us to pick up. I told Sis to not forget to remind me to pick up the requested fried bugs for my daughter. I have a tendency to be forgetful. Especially in the early morning when I am still not fully awake really. I've always been more of an afternoon/night time person. She said we would not forget.

I told her if she did forget I'd blame her to look sow if I caught any crap about it. She laughed and whacked me a "dope slop salai" on the forehead as I fired up the truck. I turned on the windshield wipers to scrape off the thick morning dew. It was a bit chilly this morning. My nipples were erect from the cold dawn air. Sexy man!! (I know this is something you all needed and wanted to hear.) There'd be plenty of eye candy with "high beams" on, poking through the thin fabric of their blouses on this chilly morning at the market. The thought cheered me and I perked up somewhat, and actually opened my eyes fully for the first time this morning.

Off we went into the Isaan countryside to battle the sub par roads, and face the challenges thrown down by crazy ass driving Somchai and his mental buddies, who would be cruising the hi-ways and by-ways with little thought for driver safety, speed limits, and who might be in their path over the next rise as they pass a slow moving truck at 180 kph in their freshly washed, gleaming, chromed, and still mortgaged to the hilt, 2001 Toyota Tiger extended cab, keepin' up with the Joneses, and appearances, rocket ship of a pick-up truck. I hate these assholes! I'd soon be frightened to full alertness and palpitating heart by their road warrior antics. Never fails.

In the rice fields along the roads we traveled, as the sun peeked the top of it's fiery bald head over the eastern countryside horizon, lay a foggy mist, which seems to have a life of its own. A ghostly ectoplasm this seems, which covers the fields, and swirls and moves as though something evil and unseen is walking the land under its cover, stirring its shroud into movement. It's a bit creepy. It moves about even when no discernible breeze is present, like waves on a seashore it undulates and billows about the landscape.

In the water filled gullies along the sides of the road can be seen beautiful water lillies of gorgeous hues and colors of pinks and purples, brilliant yellows, and glaring whites. Some, the pink and purple ones mostly, only open in the early morning dewy air, slowly closing once the rays of the sun touch their waxen petals. Nymphaea Lotus is the Latin name the botanists have dubbed these beautiful flowers.

Also dotting the countryside and fields can be seen all sorts of colorful water plants in these gullies by the roadsides. Their names as delightful as the plants themselves. Nymphoides, Water Snowflake, Water Dropwort, Monochoria or Pickerel Weed, with its small purple flowers, Duck Weed, Buffalo Grass, Neptunia Oleracea, with its yellow flowers speckled amongst spreading green leafs on the water's surface, Spider Lily, Water Morning Glory, Water Primrose, Water Wisteria, Frog Bit, Crinum Lily, Alligator Weed, Water Velvet, and on and on.

The Isaan countryside is a beautiful carpet of colors and shades of greens and browns, with the flowers mixing their sweet odor into a heady perfume, which teases the nose and fills one's lungs with the most pleasing of scents as you drive the early morning sois with your windows down. Sunrise really is the most pleasant time of day to be out and about in Isaan. Too bad it comes so early in the day.

Sis and I made good time along the mostly deserted roads and soon arrived at our destination.

As per the usual I was needed mostly only for my safe and expert driving skills, and maybe some baht for my own wanted purchases. Once we've arrived we usually park in a corner of the market by an old and dilapidated carousel, still in use, though the wooden and faded paint hobby horses look as though they might one day easily escape the confines of their poles and gallop off into surrounding fields with frightened Thai lasses and lads clinging on for dear life. It's just one of the five or ten "rides" in this little carnival in the dusty red dirt and trash at the edge of the market area. None of which I would trust my life to ride on, or a child of my own's life.

Sis gathered her purse and baht, with the list from Sis 2 clutched in her chubby fist, and exited the truck to start her bartering with the wily natives of the many shops and stalls in the mass of confusion and early morning muted cacophony of the outdoor market. She is the expert purchasing agent of the family.

I am but the lowly truck driver, who could now kick back and relax, maybe grabbing a bit of a nap while Sis did her thing, so as to be bright eyed and bushy tailed, and alert, for the coming dangerous drive back to the village later on, with a truck full to the brim of the day's shopping.

I grabbed my baseball cap and lowered it partially over my face after laying back my seat to its fullest reclining position. Lighting a smoke I gazed about my parking slot and checked out the nearby eye candy available.

To my left was parked a few of those colorful and gaudily painted old Thai trucks that look somewhat like Army trucks from an old John Wayne WW2 war movie. You know, the troop transport trucks, two and a half tons I think, with the canvas covers like an old Conestoga (sic?) prairie wagon covering the back. As I sat there a cute lass poked her head from under the back canvas flap of one of these trucks.

"Hmmmmm, I might have to stay awake for a while here to check this lass out." I think to myself.

(to be continued)

Stickman says:

More magic from Cent.