Sometimes, after the sun has gone down and the rain is filtering down lightly, walking the streets aimlessly can be intensely rewarding. 

Yesterday Evan and I spent a day exploring the Bangkok shopping culture. I think Evan loved it. I must admit I quite enjoyed exploring, 'The Loft' at the Siam Paragon. It is a sort of kitsch-japanese-geek shop, no online presence that I can find, which is a shame.

After 'The Loft' it all got pretty inane, the height of which was the fashion floor, just look at the 'Golden Jacket' what goes on in the mind of the designer, let alone the purchaser? I hate shopping malls. I could list the reasons here but I am afraid my ranting might overload the internet quota for this friendly little cafe I'm sitting in. Suffice to say malls all seem to share a disdain for the environment it exists in and the community it utilises. This particular collection of malls had sparse customers, I often found myself to be one of a crowd of three or four other potential customers in a vast air-conditioned expanse of polished concrete, steel and glass. Hopefully they'll go bankrupt and the citizens of Bangkok will convert the buildings into fabulous multi-level gardens. It could be a new hanging gardens of Babylon. Hundertwasser would approve.

After watching a truly crap movie (Inglorious Bastards) by a self indulged moron called Quentin. I finally escaped from the cubes of evil and found my way onto the rainy  streets. Deafened by the traffic and nostrils flaring at the mixed stench of cooking, durian and sewerage we began to walk. It was dark, overwhelmingly hot and raining. I picked random streets based entirely on ease of walking. Strolling the chaotic streets calmed me down and tired Evan but he did not complain, he is a good lad.

After an hour or so of making like Baudelaires' flâneur serendipity took a hand. As we passed a dark alley I was impressed by a brightly lit twinkling stage. Two actors were busy singing and gesturing to a small crowd of onlookers and parked cars. Mid-stride I turned and walked down the alley. It was lovely, like an english pantomime, music-hall and opera all rolled up with a big slice of China. A sweet family of mothers, fathers, children and grannies passed us some plastic chairs and so we sat and watched the show amongst them. Of course neither Evan nor I understood a word of what was going on. We all had to move at one time so that a car could get through, all so casual and lovely.

As the night progressed I discovered we had walked halfway across the city in the opposite direction to our lodgings. A talkative cabby from near Chiang Mai took us home and told us of his dreams of breaking into the music business (he played us his demo-CD). He told us of his once famous father, the nak muay with a fist of iron. He told us how he had tried to be a fighter like his father, his father-in-law trained him but he gave up after five years. We saw photos of his little girl, the apple of his eye.

He works ten to thirteen hours a day and after paying rental to the owner of the cab he takes home a few hundred baht. It reminded me of London.

Back at Rambuttri I took a short walk before bed and chatted to a tuk-tuk driver who wanted to take me to see girls shoot ping-pong balls from between their legs. I had a cup of tea and went to bed instead.