Writer, Publisher, Retired

Tag: Khaosan Road

Luck

Perpetual good or bad luck is something that seems to follow some people you meet on the traveler or expat circuit. It is not something all or even many possess, but a few seem to just be gifted or cursed with it.

Bernard was not a lucky man. Maybe not as unlucky as British Steve, but unlucky nevertheless. Nearly everything he did turned to disaster. Now some will say that luck – good or bad is something you make for yourself. And in Bernard’s case this may be true to some extent. Maybe it was his criminality that had an effect on this; maybe it was his belief in how smart he was that had an effect. It was true that Bernard thought he was smarter than most, and that he could always get one over on others. It was not, however, a trait that sprang to mind when others thought of Bernard whoever those others were. But one thing all would agree on, was that Bernard was unlucky.

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Jesus

When I was a child my sister had this picture bible for kids, which had been given to her by her god mother. It was a large hardback book with many pictures and some chosen stories extracted from the bible such as Moses and the parting of the waves, some parables, Jesus and the feeding of the many, and ones like that. But what I mostly remembered it for was the picture on the front. The hardback book had one of those glossy front and back covers that tucked into the front and back book covers. On the front of this was the name and a picture of a young man in sandals and flowing white robes with a hand held out with long blonde or golden locks, a light beard and blue eyes. Behind him was a blazing sun that left a halo round his head.


I was sitting at one of the stone tables at Mr. Bow’s just off of Tanao Road looking down the soi past the dogs, motorcycles and the occasional worker who were drifting in and out of the shophouses. It was hot, but the sun was falling and the temperature would soon drop. For now, though the sun was blazing lower into my eyes causing me to squint and think of moving bench. But the benches round the table were taken by the others sitting with me, but they were chatting to each other. I was both alone and surrounded at the same time, but in one of those late afternoon thoughtful, quiet periods that hit you in the tropics just letting my mind run over whatever came into it as I looked away from the table and around where I was but not really taking in the run down shophouses, wooden buildings and greenery or the little alley off the side that led back to where I had come from.

At some point my wandering gaze caused me to look back down the soi towards the road that ran past the distant post office and barbers and on towards the cheaper guest houses where some of the growing African community stayed. There was someone coming towards me. At first, they were a silhouette or shadow with the sinking sun right behind them. The intense light caused my eyes to struggle at first. I squinted as little drops of water ran from my eyes. But this quickly passed and I saw the figure near with a vast light around their head. The closer they came, the more I saw. The approaching figure was a young man in sandals and flowing white robes with long blonde or golden locks, a light beard and blue eyes. Behind him the blazing sun still left a glowing golden halo around his head.

This was my first ever encounter with Jesus.

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