The bus was going too fast. That is normal here, where the roads are obstacle courses of slow moving tractors, tuktuks, heavy trucks and private vehicles. We were travelling north from the new capital Bangkok to an older one in Sukhothai.
Like Ayutthaya further south Sukhothai was founded then sacked in the usual progression that makes and ruins kingdoms. It might have been the Khmer, who variously owned and then lost great slices of this part of South East Asia. Further east are the ruins of a Khmer temple and city complex, built atop the lava plug of an extinct volcano.
These days Sukhothai's former ruins have been heavily restored, and are surrounded by parks. I have not been. The bus was going too fast.
It was a semi luxury bus. The kind that offers bottled water and an anonymous bread roll as you board, then stops for an all included lunch of rice and local food. After eating there was a bad American movie dubbed in such a way that only the explosions and martial music remained intact. Looking up I saw it was another M_____ C____'s franchise. Another excuse to transpose a stilted 1950s adolescence into computer graphics and barely plausible plotlines.
The bus was going too fast. I was reading at the time. We braked hard, then harder still, and the great wheels locked and shredded rubber down the road. My book flew forwards. My shoes, water bottle, shoulder bag, mobile phone followed, continuing their terminal trajectory. Somehow I braced, slamming sideways into the seat in front of me. Everything tore lose of its moorings. The seat next to me ripped across my shin. We stopped.
It was silent. Someone moaned. Two passengers took hammers and destroyed a window. Others pulled aside railings and stepped slowly, gingerly, down the stairwell and away from the ticking, dripping, crumpled ruin of the bus. We were 50 km short of Sukhothai.
Like Ayutthaya further south Sukhothai was founded then sacked in the usual progression that makes and ruins kingdoms. It might have been the Khmer, who variously owned and then lost great slices of this part of South East Asia. Further east are the ruins of a Khmer temple and city complex, built atop the lava plug of an extinct volcano.
These days Sukhothai's former ruins have been heavily restored, and are surrounded by parks. I have not been. The bus was going too fast.
It was a semi luxury bus. The kind that offers bottled water and an anonymous bread roll as you board, then stops for an all included lunch of rice and local food. After eating there was a bad American movie dubbed in such a way that only the explosions and martial music remained intact. Looking up I saw it was another M_____ C____'s franchise. Another excuse to transpose a stilted 1950s adolescence into computer graphics and barely plausible plotlines.
The bus was going too fast. I was reading at the time. We braked hard, then harder still, and the great wheels locked and shredded rubber down the road. My book flew forwards. My shoes, water bottle, shoulder bag, mobile phone followed, continuing their terminal trajectory. Somehow I braced, slamming sideways into the seat in front of me. Everything tore lose of its moorings. The seat next to me ripped across my shin. We stopped.
It was silent. Someone moaned. Two passengers took hammers and destroyed a window. Others pulled aside railings and stepped slowly, gingerly, down the stairwell and away from the ticking, dripping, crumpled ruin of the bus. We were 50 km short of Sukhothai.
