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By Root 1283 0

are also booming on an evening with clear skies. Newer than Chatuchak, and more open and festive, Suan Lum features a similar range of products. After picking up small purses decorated with sequined elephants for our granddaughters, and looking for other gifts, we settle in at a beer garden, under trees with twinkling white lights, for people watching. A relaxed two hours later, the subway whisks us one stop to the Patpong district, notorious for its sex clubs and prostitutes but also popular locally for street food. None of the varied treats tempt us, but the brazen lack of subtlety in some of the advertising evokes a few stifled laughs. Many of the ladies standing in groups in front of bars actually wear numbers, marathon-runner-style, that cover their salient selling points almost as thoroughly as their skimpy dresses.

Most of Bangkok’s museums disappointed us last time, so we return only to Jim Thompson’s House. Born in Delaware in 1906, Thompson worked as an architect before volunteering for military intelligence duty during World War II, which brought him to Bangkok. He stayed, played a major role in the revival of traditional Thai silk weaving, and built a home out of six old teak structures that he dismantled in the countryside and reassembled on-site. Guides take visitors through the rambling residence, providing an intimate glimpse at Thai art and architecture. Thompson maintained the original style of most of the buildings and furnishings but added a few Western touches, such as an indoor toilet by his bedroom; guest rooms contained the customary chamber pots, in the shape of a Siamese cat for men and a frog for women. A framed numerology reading, done by a monk, hangs on one wall, advising Thompson to be especially careful in his sixty-first year, when he disappeared without a trace in Malaysia’s Cameroon Highlands.

The house tour is more enjoyable than most of our sightseeing, but we save the best for last, arranging at The Oriental for a half-day excursion on the klongs (canals) off the Chao Phraya River. From our room at the grand old hostelry, in the six-story structure formerly known as the Authors’ Wing, floor-to-ceiling windows survey the river and its constant boat traffic, a magnificent scene. The newer, maybe more prestigious Peninsula Hotel towers above us on the opposite side of the broad channel, but lacks our intimacy with the water and the thousands of people who travel it at any daylight hour. Our room is almost identical to the one that elated us on our honeymoon and still seems just as idyllic. Cheryl says gleefully, “Yes, we can go back again!” Sometimes at least; and in this case, to one of the most special spots we’ve ever been.

The klong journey provides similar delight. The hotel’s dock manager gets us one of the ubiquitous, gondola-style long-tail boats, named for their pivoting shaft that raises and lowers the propeller in different water conditions. He sets us up with a driver and handsome craft used in one of Pierce Brosnan’s James Bond films, telling us, “Brosnan returns frequently to take out the same boat.” The helmsman heads to the Bangkok Noi canal, one of the main arteries through Thonburi, a part of the metropolis that maintains an age-old mode of waterway living rarely found any longer in Bangkok proper. Residences, interspersed with occasional businesses and temples, line both sides of the klong and provide direct access to the water for traveling around, buying food from paddling vendors, growing gardens of aquatic vegetables, and washing clothes.

The houses we pass range from ramshackle to palatial. Some creep to the edge of the bank, others stand on stilts above the flood zone, and the biggest ones sit back on higher ground. As we putter by, residents go about their daily lives, obviously conducted much of the time on terraces and docks by the klong. Our driver halts briefly to allow us to peer into the Royal Barge Museum, home to eight magnificent vessels used in special river processions, and Wat Rakhang, a temple known for its bells and chimes. The only evidence of