After testing our tolerance for gasoline fume consumption riding in the back of an enclosed truck after a full day of elephant washing we found ourselves ready for some fresh air. Still belching petrol vapor, we headed for the Night Market. Before crossing the River Ping, before threading through the hawkers throwing glow in the dark rings into indigo skies, before entering the massive terra cotta gates onto Chang Khlan Road, the Night Market sings out its “Come see, come taste, come listen. Come” song. We came. The usual characters set up shop: the winsome, the toothless, the dwarf, the krone; all offering their particular treasure. Some smells were familiar, some faces reminiscent of other places, other times, some inevitable startle: what the hell is that thing, food, odor? Oh, sorry, that was me. Just a little leftover Thai gasoline.
