Restless Soul - Alex Archer [82]
“But you have time for shopping, yes? There is Walking Street that you must visit. A big market opens there on Sundays with handicrafts, all displayed and very colorful and very nice. Good prices. Silks, embroidery, umbrellas—hand-painted by the hill tribes. Sa paper, silverware, celadon, souvenirs.”
Annja tapped his shoulder. “On my next trip to Thailand. I’ll act like a proper tourist then.” She would come back, to see more of the caves and have a proper vacation, maybe with Luartaro. Definitely to see the long-necked women.
“It is too bad you do not have time for seeing sights this trip. There are many caves in this part of the country.”
Annja’s thoughts were suddenly thrown back to Tham Lod Cave and the caverns Zakkarat got them lost in the following day, and to the teak coffins with the precious and remarkable remains in them.
“You do have time for a little shopping, yes? The Night Bazaar, three blocks long, is good for tourists. Many goods there. Many restaurants.”
She sighed and bobbed her head. She smiled wistfully when the first few raindrops hit the windshield. “I will try to visit the Night Bazaar before I leave.” She had no intention of doing so, but she thought it would placate him.
“My brother has a restaurant there. Café Duan. Very good food. Good prices.”
He pointed out a few interesting buildings as he drove south on Suthep Road, one a massive white structure with ornate steps and roof sections.
“This was outside the city until the city grew,” he said. “Wat Suan Dok. Legend says that King Ku Na favored the pious monk Sumana Thera, and lured him and his teachings of Buddhism here from Sri Lanka. King Ku Na gave the monk his royal flower garden as a place to build a temple upon, and so Wat Suan Dok was built in 1371. Half of a very holy relic is housed inside. The other half is in Wat Phrathat Doi Suthep.”
“It is beautiful.”
“Part of the Maha Chulalongkorn Buddhist University of the Mahanikai sect is inside. The wat is open to tourists.”
“On my next trip,” she said.
The driver turned west at the following intersection and slowed. “So you will do a little shopping.” He stopped in front of an antiques store. Chanarong’s Antiquities were the English words displayed beneath the much larger, flowing Thai script.
“Wait for you?” he asked.
“No, thank you. I might be a while.”
“If you need another ride, you ask for me.” He passed her his card—Thai on one side, English on the other—as she handed over several more baht than the fare called for.
“I will do that. Thank you.” She slung the backpack over her shoulders, the broken pieces of skull clinking.
He drove away and she turned to scrutinize the business. The drizzle was turning into a steady, soft rain. Nearby, a restaurant which hadn’t yet opened for the day advertised lunch specials. The antiques shop was on the corner, an alley too narrow to drive down, to its left. It was an older building, three stories, made of dark red bricks that had been painted a few times, the current color dark green. The upper two floors looked to be apartments, one with a window air conditioner, one with a box fan, all of them with mismatched curtains. The antiques store had lighter green paint around its windows, and red chipped paint on the door trim. All of the windows were streaked with the grime of the city, but she could see vases, bowls and wooden knickknacks through the smears. She also spotted a small closed sign propped up against the bottom corner.
“Wonderful.” Annja had thought about calling the store before she came over, but didn’t want to tip anyone off. She’d decided just to stop by, as it should be open according to the hours printed on the card.
She stepped close to the door, which had a small window set in it, and she peered inside. The overhang kept her dry, rain pattering against it in a steady rhythm. It was dark in the shop, but she noticed shadowy shelves filled with all manner of objects, and larger pieces—chairs, tall urns and statues