Showing posts from March, 2013

King Narai mystique

The museum at King Narai palace in Lopburi closes half past four.  We were late. But the ruins outside the inner palace gate were perfect for the time we arrived- less than thirty minutes to five. Sunset was approaching. We were among the few visitors who loitered behind. We couldn't have chosen a more wondrous time to be there.

A resident mystique envelopes relics of the past, especially those that enjoyed splendor in their day. We explored in peace.

Trying to get an idea of what was in store the next day, I peeped through the slit on the huge gate: outlines of edifices even bigger than the skeletal remains standing on the outer grounds, still proud.

The shadows lengthen as the sun hurried west. Waxing meditative is easy when ruins speak to you

I imagine a wedding here at night aglow with fireflies. Lotuses gliding on the pond, chimes in the soft breeze, real fairies for bride's maids....

ABC Wednesday * Ruby Tuesday * Our World

Lights, camera, emotions and cut!

If you dined at Sometime's Cafe & Bistro, you do so surrounded with books and antiques. What I remembered while admiring old decor at Sometime's is the same as when I saw one feature of this week's Sepia prompt: cameras.

My Aunt Rebecca is a widow who raised a brood of nine on her husband's photography business. Endeared to the device that played an important role in their survival, one of her grandsons was named Yashica.

Something during Aunt Rebecca's husband's funeral always made me wonder why it was like that. No one in the family ever discussed it. I suspect it's because everyone thinks her crying got a bit out of control. Once I took my mother aside to wring out her opinion of her sister's behavior, and she frankly observed that her sister's display of emotions was rather exaggerated.

The scene at that wake must have created different emotions among those present. This pen and ink Study in Emotions by Charles Le Brun shows Aunt Rebecca's…

Jesada Technik Museum

While wandering around Siam Paragon waiting for a film premier, I found a display of what I thought were toy cars. They turned out to be some of Thai businessman Jesada Dejsakulrit's antique cars.

The decade-old collection of practically all means of transport includes "a helicopter, a London Bus, and very soon it will have a Russian-made U194 submarine." Mr Jesada enthuses, "apart from rare cars, I began accumulating other means of transportation such as boats and airplanes. At the time being we have about 400 cars, including an assortment of old tricycles from all corners of the globe; military and commercial aircrafts and land vehicles, and a whiskey-class submarine coming in from Sweden."

According to an online source, Mr Jesada conceptualized Thailand's very first museum of exotic cars after a trip to Hanover, Germany, famous for the Bubble car. He wants to 'offer school children the opportunity to see these rare and exotic vehicles' up…

Memories of green

"Let us make, instead of war, an everlasting peace...." ~ Virgil, The Aeneid  Book 4, lines 130-136
For years I wondered why my father liked green.

I didn't mind that he bought Mama a pair of high-heeled glass slippers with a light green tint until he bought me a dress that was military green. Of all colors!

He was a typical man of few words and when he passed away, I realized I would never be able to ask him why he favored green so much. I resorted to guessing.

There are instances when I ask myself why I do certain things.
It was most probably Father why I colored this girl's dress green. She's around books and I relate to that.

Father gave me The Aeneid when I was in 6th grade.

I didn't understand the gift and wished he gave me the normal Nancy Drew instead. Why The Aeneid? Of all books!

Could it have been his Jesuit upbringing? (which reminds me of the new pope right now) I vaguely remember him mention they were grilled in classical poetry during his Notre Dame da…

Invader and incense

Fourteen years ago a small field of lilies was abloom right on the spot where that condominium stands. Remember Big Yellow Taxi? "... they paved paradise, and put up a parking lot?" I call this building The Invader. As I walk by every morning I daydream of that lily field.

This Spirit house is my side view as soon as I reach the computers to sign in at work. If the wind blows my way I get a whiff of incense. It's easy to get used to the fragrance, not the high rise.

Incense sticks perpetually burn in temples too. I took notice of the one behind this part of the highway as it's where my boss's Dad will be cremated come March 30th. I was on a moving bus opposite this lane. The teapot is a serendipity :)

Students in their scout uniform pass by the temple after school. The yellow and green vehicle is a government taxi. You can ride the red bus all day for free. Guy with a blue tie is running for Bangkok governor. Election time is around the corner in my world.

ABC Wed…


Patty patter  goes the chatter  I burnt some patty  while the rain was pattering  and I was turning  off the AC  and saving

More than two centuries ago a certain grain was generally given to horses in England but in Scotland supports the people. It's the grain I used two days ago to make these patties to celebrate the rain. Bangkok has been searing hot for too long that when it finally poured, I thought a celebration was in order.

Although patties are originally made of meat, sometimes I concoct meals and I'm happy doing that. Tuna instead of beef. I mixed in minced purple onion, honey maple syrup, evaporated milk, soy sauce, salt, sugar, a large egg and butter cake flour.

If you're wondering about the taste, well, it was similar to the one I concocted two years ago with mackerel. My son kept stuffing himself with those as soon as I piled them on a dish from the wok. There was almost nothing left for me when I finished frying the last patty. At least that…

Curiosity sewed the thumb

My word associations from this week's photo prompt:  boxes = Nanny McPhee and the big bang (2005 film) skirt =  great-grandma Fortunata Paraiso Fronteras (I never saw her legs ever) machine =  Singer sewing machine

A friend toured the house of the Marcoses in Luzon last week and she took this photo of an old sewing machine in one of their stops - Grandpa's Inn. We were telling fun stories on Facebook about how the pedal would move by itself in the dead of night. It looks so ancient, at least to us, that we just assumed it's haunted.

Does anyone know of a sewing machine brand other than Singer? I haven't seen any other, nor have I gotten around to finding the brand of the ones we see today. We had this sewing machine at home with a 'bloody' memory for me. Over the years it has served a different purpose - a table for flowers, the laundry, and sometimes stray books. Once a cousin hid a match of spiders in one of its built-in drawers.
I was about five years old when I …