Thai Girl Read Online Free Page B

tuk driver with a low opening bid.
    â€˜Twenty baht to Wat Po, okay?’
    â€˜Okay, okay, twenty baht.’
    Ben was disappointed to be denied a haggle but as they shot away into the traffic, the driver turned and spoke to him over his shoulder.
    â€˜Wat Po closed already. Big soldier die, have cremation. Later go.’
    â€˜But you said you’d take us,’ shouted Ben, not sure he’d taken it all in. Why accept the fare to Wat Po and then cry off?
    The driver shouted back, swerving recklessly through the heavy traffic.
    â€˜Sorry, no probrem. I take you better temple, go shopping, then come back Wat Po two o’crock.’
    â€˜Come off it mate, this stinks. Wat Po, now, pronto.’ Ben tapped him on the shoulder and pointed ahead down the road.
    â€˜Ben!’ Emma chimed in as the driver angrily screeched to a halt at the side of the road. ‘You’ve really upset him now.’
    They got out onto the pavement in surprise as the driver refused to take them any further. Ben handed him ten baht and they headed off on foot, his curses sounding in their ears.
    â€˜Well, that wasn’t very clever,’ said Emma. ‘It’s bloody hot and we’ve no idea where we are.’
    â€˜Look, Emm, you’re so naive. He was onto some sort of rip-off … to take us to expensive shops and get commissions.’
    â€˜He was okay until you pissed him off.’
    â€˜He pissed me off! Anyway, we’ve got the map and it’s not that far.’ They reached Wat Po on foot in ten minutes and it was open after all.
    Emma found Wat Po less formal than the Grand Palace, a riot of colourful temples, trees and sculpted bushes, the reclining Buddha, a vast gilded figure peeping out from inside the temple building. She too was feeling the need to recline when they came to a place in the grounds where visitors can stop for a traditional Thai massage or to have their fortunes told.
    â€˜So what’s it to be, Emm?’ asked Ben. ‘A sweaty massage or the fortune-teller? The sign says he can predict your love life after marriage.’
    â€˜Don’t want to think about the future, least of all my love life. Let’s get back to Khao San Road.’
    Now wary of tuk tuks, they took an air-conditioned taxi which gave them a chance to talk in relative cool and calm.
    â€˜Look, Ben, I’m not sure I can hack much more of Bangkok,’ said Emma, slumped exhausted in the back seat. ‘I want to move on.’
    â€˜Okay then. We can try one of the travel agents next to our doss house.’
    â€˜It’s Chiang Mai I really fancy. Should be cooler in the mountains.’
    â€˜No Emm, I’m desperate for a beach,’ said Ben insistently.
    They pushed their way through tightly packed stalls selling clothes and cheap jewellery to get to the travel agents in Khao San Road, its door covered with hand written signs: ‘Cambodia visa service, special island visit, Koh Chang, Koh Samet.’ Inside the tiny office Emma only cared about the cool of the air conditioning and even ignored the cockroach that skittered across the chaos of papers and files on the desk. Two male travellers thumbing through a ring-binder of brochures, shifted their chairs along to make room for them. The girl behind the desk, done up like a china doll, gave them a synthetic smile but said nothing as they sat down.
    â€˜We want to get out of Bangkok. Islands, beaches … Cambodia maybe,’ said Ben.
    â€˜Uh? You go Cambodia?’ said the girl. Emma looked on, a little surprised.
    â€˜What about Angkor Wat?’ he asked.
    â€˜No problem. Minibus to Aranyaprathet, then open truck to Siem Reap. Road no good but very cheap. Twenty people in the back, hot and dirty … nine hours, maybe twelve. Better you fly aeroplane if you care your ass.’
    â€˜Have you ever been to Cambodia?’
    â€˜Why I go? I care my ass,’ she said with a