Yesterday afternoon, after a long flight from Bangkok, I had one of those incredible first taxi rides in a new country, when you can’t quite connect yourself to the experience, or relate it to anything you’ve done before.
The airport road:
'What if I was walking along it?' I asked.
'I would stop and tell you to get a cab,' he replied. He then instructed me on the coming election. 'You're not here to help us with it, are you?'
'No, no, I'm not here for the election.'
It was on everyone’s minds. His own concern was that the two main candidates were too old. He wanted a young man in charge, like Barack Obama. Here a very big version of one of the posters that are everywhere:
And the light, ashen gold I suppose you could call it, the dirty red of the footpaths and roads lifted into an urban sunset.
When I got back to the hotel, I adopted again what may end up being my default mode for between-walks, and as in Bangkok I made meaningful the otherwise unfulfilled life of a local by asking them to take my picture.