GOLDEN TORTOISE, THE

II: Thailand

23 II: Thailand Like so many GIs during the war, I retreat to Thailand for “R&R.” I find lodgings in a simple guesthouse perched above a dirty river in Ayuthea, the medieval capital of Siam, one hour north of Bangkok. There I meditate on my journey, on war and the human condition. Teak wood porch rotting above the current, empty chair rocking R Ayuthea is studded with Buddhist temples called wats. I explore numerous wats, both ancient and in use, sparkling and eroding. Red dragonflies buzz crumbling stone Buddhas in gold silk robes R The golden Buddha stares at the steady current of the muddy river. Boats, branches, debris float by. R Buddha’s half torso steadfast in the noon swelter — sweet burning incense R I wander back streets of the dirty, crowded village. Bucket of turtles in the sweltering market— the toothless vendor grins 24 The Golden Tortoise R Staring at this slow-flowing Thai river reminds me of My Lai. Village water ditch— the dead stretch their arms to me— hum of dragonflies R It is my last night in Southeast Asia. I sit under the full moon that is also the Vietnamese goddess of beauty, and prepare to return home: A cloak of moonlight hangs from her velvet shoulders— footprints on the sea ...