And my mother asked me over the phone, “How is Bangkok right now?”
A reasonable enough question. Last time we were here, the red shirts were still in residence but the protests had yet to turn bloody.
One day a chunk of the city centre was shut down for marches, with shiny new black pick-ups heading into the financial district across traffic, their red-shirted occupants waving amiably, scarlet banners and bandanas waving in the breeze.
A few weeks later, and only a month or so ago, great chunks of the city were in flames. Not long ago a remarkably well-timed bomb was discovered inside a cart of pineapples outside the offices of the ruling coalition.
This time? Continue reading