Another Advance From a Fat Boy, Water Throwing and One Armed Crabs

Unbelievable, it happened again. A fat poof on a little motor scooter followed me for a while, pulled along side and made lewd suggestions. At first I thought that he was trying to sell marijuana, he kept making references to smoking. But then, as before, as he rode along he began playing out his fantasies and what he desired to do to my person, or parts of my person, in a graphic and detailed manner. The scenes he played out were not for the faint of heart, and it became quite apparent that he was not a marijuana sales man. It makes me wonder if it was the same fat homosexual on the same little motor scoter that propositioned me before. He had very similar fantasies, but I guess that all fat homosexuals on motor scooters have similar fantasies when faced with a Lycra clad cyclist. He did seem fascinated by my shorts. Perhaps I should invest in something with a slightly more modest cut.

Anyway, enough of such things.

I recently saw a film called Hotel Rwanda. Watching it was a heart rendering couple of hours as the story of the genocide in Rwanda and one mans efforts to save those for whom a gruesome fate lay just around the corner unfolded. During the film there were several occasions where one or another or the films heroes and heroines would have to go onto the streets and brave lawless mobs of marauding thugs with machetes. Fuelled by a furious hatred whipped up by ruthless leaders thousands moved as one, a group mentality prevailed where a mass of people takes on a life as if one.
I was reminded of this film as I rode along a couple of days ago. Gangs of young Thais had gathered on the streets of towns and cities, on rural back roads and the countries main highways. They lay in wait for passing cars and scooters and bicycles. For it was Songkran, the Thai New Year. Songkran is celebrated by the throwing of water. It is what you may call, a water festival. It is a perfectly understandable way to celebrate a major event during the hottest time of year in a very hot land.
Children sit at the road side with a large barrel of water that acts as munitions store from which they fill water guns and buckets and douse down passers by, such as itinerant wheelmen. Riding along for the first hour or so I would see a group ahead and feel rather nervious. “Ohh no, here we go again” I would think and I would be sprayed and splashed by laughing kids who found the idea of soaking a foreigner even more exciting than soaking a fellow Thai. It was the “ohh, dear” each time I saw them that made me think of Hotel Rwanda, and how if I was apprehensive of a few kids celebrating New Year with water I wouldn’t be up to much riding on roads lined with machete wielding homicidal maniacs.

Last night I sat on a wall overlooking a river. The river washed up onto a small beach that was a couple of metres bellow where my feet dangled. It was not a pretty beach, it was black and dreary and closer to post apocalyptic that to pretty in appearance. As I sat idly swinging my legs my attention was drawn to movement. Hundreds if not thousands of crabs claws were moving on the beach. Just claws. I rubbed my eyes (why I did that I do not know, but I did) and I peered harder. At first I thought that it was a mass of severed crabs legs writhing on the beach as though severed from their host crab they now moved on through some sort of nervous impulse. But no, this was not it. What it was was a mass of one armed crabs. Each crab had one huge pincer. Think of a one armed Popeye morphed into a crab and that is what they were like. The pincer as big as the crab’s body. And they appeared to be aggressive, pinching and trashing out at each other regularly. A sparrow landed on the beach and began chasing the crabs. She was unsuccessful in catching any as theses crabs are very sensitive to movement. I know, I went onto the beach and tried to photograph them and they all disappeared down their burrows as soon as I set foot on the beach. But the fact she, (the sparrow) set about hunting them did surprise me, I had never thought of the sparrow as a raptor.


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