After an hour, my inherent restlessness prompted me to head towards another building. There, a friendly Thai girl (gee, that narrowed it down - all Thais are friendly!) told me about buses to Sukothai, another former Thai capital. She also pointed me in the direction of the police station where she said I could hire a bike for about 50 BHT for the day. I tested several before finding one with functioning brakes. The rock hard seat was a small price to pay.

My first stop was the exhibition hall. I watched a video documentary on cycling around the ruins of Ayuthaya. This former capital of Thailand was once called the Venice of the East - the once glorious capital city of an Oriental power. At its height, in 1700, Ayuthaya boasted a population of nearly 1 million people. At the time, London’s population was half that. However, in 1750 or thereabouts, the Burmese flattened the city, destroyed its temples, and decapitated the heads of the Buddhas, after having failed in seventeen previous attempts to breach the city’s ramparts. It was an orgy of violence stemming from jealousy and frustration. In one swoop, the gilded city was razed to the ground. All that remained were the broken stumps of former temples, palaces and tombs. Seeing the devastation, it is hard to believe that the Burmese were Buddhist, too. Ayuthaya was reclaimed by the jungle, only to be rediscovered many centuries later.

I pedaled along what appeared to be the main highway towards a roadside stall, where I had my first drink of Vitagen in years and a refreshing swig of water. I visited Wat Phra Ram, Wat Mongkolbophit, Wat Phra Si Sanphet, Wat Mahathat (where the roots of a bodhi tree embraced the head of a Buddha) and to Wat Ratburana, Na Phra, and Wat Lokya Suthara (Lokasundara?) where I was the target of a vendor trying to sell me a bronze Ganesha.

One of the more interesting aspects of my day was a visit to a Thai astrologer. He told me that the next couple of years would be challenging. He told me when I would have a dramatic rise in my fortunes and, of his own volition, suggested when I should get married. Though I have no real regard for astrology (especially that brand practiced by guys dressed in suits on a hot day), it was an interesting experience.

I decided to head towards Wat Chai Wattanaram to see the sunset. It was a 5-km journey from the center, along reasonably good roads. I talked to a mother and her two kids, and thought of my little nephew. I climbed to the top of the main prang and sat watching the darkening sky. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning immediately followed by a peal of thunder, and with Surya disappearing, I was acquainted with Indra. Dark, heavy clouds appeared, and a heavenly deluge swamped the earth. After some hasty haggling in the rain, I was given a ride back to the hotel by a little girl and her father, in the front cab of a ute(??), with my bike in the back. The little girl did all the bargaining and asked me if I wanted to get wet or pay 100 BHT! Don’t mistake the cuteness. She had the negotiating clout of a top attorney! We stopped by the police station to return the bike and they dropped me back at the hotel. After a dinner of instant noodles, I turned in early, to get ready for the early morning bus to Sukothai the next day.

By 7:00 I was up and I caught a tuk tuk to the bus terminal. 169 Baht bought me a ticket to Sukothai. The bus lady said the bus was expected at 08:20. 08:30 came and went. 08:45 rolled by and there was no sign of a bus. Finally, at 10 past nine the bus arrived. I made good use of the time waiting. I bought a bunch of bananas and various snacks from the 7-11. On the bus, I met Jens from Sweden, on his 6 month OE - or overseas experience. We talked about globalization, John Pilger, the effects of tourism on culture and had a good laugh at McDonald’s expense.

By 4 pm, we had arrived at our destination - Sukothai (in Pali, “Dawn of Happiness")—the yet more ancient capital of Thailand, predating Bangkok and Ayuthaya. As we stepped off the bus into the station, the welcoming committee of touts descended upon us, being the only firangs on the bus. However, we politely made our way out of the station towards the tuk-tuks. After comparing guidebooks, Jens and I decided to stay at the number 4 Guest House. It was a rustic little spot, surrounded by rice fields. The houses had bamboo walls, all propped up on stilts. Free-range chickens mooched around, pecking nonchalantly at the dirt. We were greeted by a young lady with some freshly cut watermelon - a boon to our parched throats—and led to our room. It was sparsely furnished. Two single beds with mosquito net and a lone light bulb. To go to the bathroom, you had to jump off the raised platform that was the house, into another area enclosed by bamboo screens, but which was open to the sky, and as such was always wet. I thought it was fantastic. You could sing in the shower, in the rain! Jens and I shared a room, splitting the cost of 200 BHT for two singles.

After a short rest and a late lunch, we proceeded to check out the Night Market. We found ourselves in a restaurant watching the Japan vs. Belgium game. We also met a couple from Toronto. Together, we roamed the streets of this old capital, when we heard some loud booming music, quite heavy on the bass. Exploring further, we came across the fitness-minded denizens of Sukothai getting jiggy doing their aerobics. I was rather dismayed to see that the town had a KFC. However, such left-wing thoughts were soon forgotten after downing a papaya shake and feasting on mangosteens and rumbutans from a local market. Dinner that night was fried rice and vegetables, washed down with a banana and peanut shake. At midnight, after making plans to see the sunrise over old Sukothai, I fell asleep to the sounds of crickets, howling stray dogs and the subtle pitter-patter that betrays the dancing of cockroaches. I pulled the bed-sheet over my face.

After having chocolate chip cookies for breakfast, we caught the 7:00 songthaew (a phoenix like vehicle with the front of an autorickshaw and the rear of a truck.) to the historical park. We shared the bench with a whole bunch of neatly manicured junior school students, who looked at us shyly and were full of smiles. At the Sukothai Historical Park (Muang Kao Sukothai), a World Heritage Site, we hired some bikes and had a miraculous escape when a large branch of a tree came down exactly where we were several minutes previously. The park contains 40 separate temple complexes and covers an area of around 70 square kilometers. Huge stone temples and statues of Buddha adorn the well-manicured grounds.

Jens and I talked about the role of communications and empire and Sweden’s imperial past over some more chocolate chip cookies and fruit juice. We lunched at a stall just outside of the historical park, and I drank one bottle of water to subdue the chillies. The heavens opened, so we headed back to the guest-house, and spent the rest of the day relaxing, talking about nothing in particular. For lunch, we had another round of pancakes and a pineapple shake, which was simply divine.

After a snooze, we hailed a tuk-tuk to take us to the bus terminal and endured a six-hour bus ride to Chiang Mai. I noticed how the flat plains changed into rolling hills. As we headed higher up from sea level, I felt cold for the first time and noticed my ears were sun-burnt. I had a slight headache and opted to snooze stretching out on the seat in front of me. At Chiang Mai, the capital of the Northern Province, Jens and I landed at the Sarah Guest House, managed by an English woman and her Thai husband. For dinner, we headed to the Om vegetarian restaurant. It was, to my great pleasure, surrounded by a whole host of bookshops, and I spent some time reading the books travelers read. On the whole, the books you see are about foreign cultures and countries. There are many books on philosophy, art, art history, language and sociology. There are none on the hard sciences, surprise, surprise, and plenty of light fiction. I picked up `Different Seasons’ by Stephen King - it contains the story of Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption, that inspired the film.

At the night market, they sold incense, Laotian silver, beads and the traditional crafts of the hill tribes. There were also assorted fake CDs and branded clothing. I bought a khadi cotton shirt and several CDs.

It was June 6, and I woke up at 8 o’clock. Jens was still asleep. I initially felt apprehensive about sharing a room with this potentially psychopathic Swede drifter, a smoker and a vegetarian teetotaler. The son of a diplomat, he spent his life doing warehouse and contract jobs in order to be free to travel for up to six months in a year. He was an articulate fellow, had read widely, and had an American accent though he had never visited the country. Still, to be on the safe side, I padlocked my backpack and carried the keys with me at all times. Jens’ decision to leave school at 18 and adopt a non-professional life was insightful to me - that one could have no formal higher education and yet be worldly wise. However, it did bring home to me the need for some pragmatism early in life. It was something I had never thought about till this trip. Not having a university education was simply unthinkable for an Indian like me. However, knowledge was knowledge - whether you got it from a textbook or from the university of life. It sparked a desire in me to travel the world before it got too homogenized.

That morning, we revisited the vegetarian restaurant-cum-bookshop before visiting the temple on the hill - Wat Phra That Doi Suthep in a songthaew. It was beautiful and commanded an awe-inspiring view of the town and surrounding hills. A sign on a stool next to some flowers read “For rent - a lover 10 BHT.” Returning from the mountain, we lunched on spaghetti at an Israeli diner called the Jerusalem Felafel and did another bookshop crawl, where I was introduced to the writings of Thomas Pynchon and Jack Kerouac. I filed away a wish to get Carl Sagan’s `Billlions of Billions’ and Broca’s `Brain’. Instead, I bought a slim volume of Chanakya’s aphorisms that would fit in my small backpack. Whilst in town, I booked my train ticket back to Bangkok, and Jens his to Laos. We had dinner at a German pub, the Bierstube, had mango lassi and watched Uruguay and France play the most lethargic game of soccer in history. The night was still young—enough time to catch up on some emails from family and friends, and buy some bamboo placemats, a pen and a bookmark at the Night Market. I went to sleep discussing minimalism with Jens.

The next morning, we feasted on mangoes, fries, OJ and tea over a collection of decade-old, in-flight magazines. Then, it was off to the bookshops again. Lunch was at a local eatery with a traveling filmmaker while watching Sweden beat Nigeria 2-1. What a game! Jens and I parted ways after exchanging email addresses. I headed off to the train station. On the overnight journey back, I read the Stephen King short story, and once finished, gave the book away to a Canadian traveler who was a fellow fan of the movie. He took down my address and promised to post it back (he did). By the time the train arrived in Bangkok, we were firm friends.

After a shop-stop at the Weekend Market, I returned to the Amari to collect my suitcase and hopped into a taxi to the airport. The driver seemed about to suggest a good masseur but, on noticing my bags, instead asked me whether I had enjoyed his country. I told him I had ‘no problem!’ A wide smile appeared in the rear-view mirror. As the Thai Airlines flight left the tarmac, bound for the shores of a wintry New Zealand, I felt Thailand encapsulated in that sign in the Wat on Doi Suthep. Thailand is preserving its old Eastern traditions while seemingly giving in to all that’s deviant about the West - the sex-tourism and the commercialisation of culture and environment. But the traveler knows that Thailand has not made a Faustian bargain nor sold its soul for the sake of riches. The Land of Smiles has merely rented it.