Market

The branches of trees drape lazily over the multitudes of electricity lines. Leaves make gentle scraping noises as they are caught by the breeze and skitter across the uneven pavement. Tiny cats meow forlornly as they weave between waste baskets and parked motorbikes. I keep my eyes wide open as we zip along the curving streets. The almost eighty degree early morning air feels cool compared to the temperatures the afternoon is sure to bring. The smells of fish, meat, spices, vegetables and so many other things mix together making a jumble of aromas that is entirely indescribable. Flowers are sold directly across from pigs heads, chickens feet, socks, hot peppers, hair accessories... beef hangs on metal hooks and vegetables are being chopped and passed out in bags. Money changes hands and different Thai voices mingle together in the air. We weave between stalls selling fish in round bamboo boxes, spices in enormous bags, vats of soup and various other unidentifiable foods. This is the market. We stop here and there buying things in tiny bags tied with rubber bands. Monks dressed in their orange robes weave between the people as well, receiving their daily food. We remove our shoes, bow our heads and wai to them. They open their receiving bowls that are strung around their shoulders or held in their arms against their chests and I place the bags of food we have bought inside. They close the lid and I place flowers on top. We bow our heads again and the monk speaks to us in a low, purposeful voice. I think it is some sort of blessing or good luck message but I understand none of it. The monk shuffles on to the next person hoping to present him with food and receive his words of wisdom.