Who needs a winning lottery ticket when you’re lucky enough to have an umbrella in Thailand?

And you thought I’d already finished beating the Let A Smile Be Your Umbrella pun to death this week . . .

Huh. Who (besides Jabba) ever thought umbrellas in Thailand would be as ubiquitous as the ever popular Plastic Stool? Not me. At least not until I was stuck coming up with a subject for today’s post and turned to my collection of photos I’ve taken while in Thailand for some inspiration. And suddenly, umbrellas were everywhere. And here I thought they were just used by diminutive elderly local women slowly plodding along crowded Bangkok sidewalks where they can unfurl one without warning with the intent of poking some farang’s eyeball out.

But no, it turns out that umbrellas crop up in the Kingdom even other times when you least expect them to. Which would be when it is raining. Not that a major downpour is an unusual experience in Thailand, but seeing someone armed with a good umbrella during those times is scarce. You see a lot of cheap umbrellas. The kind that turn inside-out with the first gush of wind. And all the street markets are still festooned with umbrellas during the rains too. The vendors have just been smart enough to unfurl lengths of plastic sheeting above those umbrellas to keep them dry. In fact, you can’t hold a street market without umbrellas. I think it is in the Thai Constitution. Even when it is a night market and there is no rain. Or sun.

Flipping through my stock of photos, I got all excited when I ran across a Monk Shot! that was an Umbrella Shot! too. Until I ran across the next one. And another one. And another. There are quite a few wats featuring a Buddha sitting or standing under an umbrella too. And again, my heart began beating faster when I found a photo of Buddha statue carrying an umbrella. Huh. Evidently one of the mudras I forgot to include in my post on that subject was Carrying Umbrella. ‘Cuz I found several shots I’d taken of that not-so-unusual example too. Even if in that particular pose the umbrella is closed. I’m not sure how enlightened you have to be to walk around with a closed umbrella over your shoulder when it’s raining or high noon. But then I’m pretty sure I’ll be coming back in my next life umbrella-less.

Rumor has it that some Russian spy, like back in the ’70s, assassinated someone in London by using the poisoned tip of an umbrella. I think there was a Bulgarian involved too. Because that’s the kind of thing Bulgarians would be involved in. Not that that has anything to do with Thailand. Other than with the recent collapse of the ruble Thailand is becoming Russian-less once again. (Shame that.) But I do wish I’d been carrying a poison tipped umbrella on that day I met the bastard who started this whole 7 Shots thingy off. Trying to cull through my umbrella shots for just seven has been a chore. Even after I threw out those from Bali, Cambodia, Laos, Malaysia, and Singapore. On the plus side, that means I can do a 7 Shots post for each of those countries in the future. Just featuring umbrellas.

Ditto for a 7 Shots post on umbrellas at wats. Because what surprised me in the number of umbrella shots I’ve taken is how few were photos specifically of an umbrella. At least in SE Asia, umbrellas photobomb your shots frequently. Of course the huge metal umbrellas often seen at Thai temples are an iconic shot and qualify as specific umbrella shots. But evidently the Buddha is quite fond of umbrellas too because they pop up at wats frequently. I even have a photo of a line of bells from a wat in Chiang Mai, each with an umbrella over it. ‘Cuz if an umbrella is good for the Buddha, it’s gotta be good for his bells too. I’ve taken specific shots of umbrellas at the Umbrella Village in Chiang Mai too. ‘Cuz you kinda have to. And I kinda had to include one of those photos in today’s post too. Which made for a much better photo than my friend Helena’s ass with a freshly painted elephant on it, a shot from our day spent at the Umbrella Village that should warn you away from taking that excursion yourself. But don’t worry. I’m pretty sure a 7 Shots post of lesbian ass is not in your future. And since she is my friend, I won’t mention some of the similarities her ass and an umbrella share in common either.

Even sticking to those photos just from Thailand that include an umbrella numbered in the hundreds. Seriously. Ubiquitous Umbrella Shot! may become my new photographic meme. I don’t even have to snap any additional ones. So despite Jabba swearing he’s never seen umbrellas for sale in the Kingdom, unless the government gives them away like it does with rice, someone must be offering them somewhere. That or I have an umbrella photo fetish that I wasn’t aware of. So yeah, winnowing my photos down to just seven for today’s post was difficult. And while there were many I liked better and many that were better composed, since I may be starting a new trend my final shot for the day will be an almost unbelievable Ubiquitous Plastic Stool Shot! featuring an umbrella. I know. It’s a good thing it’s Friday so that you have the weekend to recover.

Now if I can only find a photo of a monk sitting on a plastic stool holding an umbrella, my life might be complete.

With me it’s the proverbial question about the chicken or the egg: Do I dislike children because I’m gay and therefore (traditionally) not supposed to have any of my own? Or is it that I detest rug rats so much that the universe decided that It would be better off if I was gay and childless? Not that it really matters. Either works, both keep my life free of despicable mini-humans and their runny nose lifestyle. If I really needed someone in my life who craves constant attention while giving little to nothing back, I’d get a cat. At least you can train a cat to use a litter box.

But as with the elderly, who are equally as useless and best avoided at all times, when I have my camera strapped around my neck, invariably I find some little tyke who’d make for a good photo. So they’re not completely useless. And those photos serve as a quick reminder when one of my friends wants to bore me with pictures of his kids that I have vacation photos I can bore him with too. Plus, in doing so, there’s always the unspoken message that it’s because of his brood that he spent his two-week vacation at Disneyland while I took a month to travel the world. That goes down as a win-win in my book.

The one cool thing about kids is that they have not yet learned how to hide what they are feeling, their emotions are always on the surface, and their unguarded expressions were made for the camera. Their world is filled with wonder, new things, new experiences. And the look of a child can help you remember, while you’re bitching and moaning about your plane being delayed, your hotel reservation being lost, the taxi driver who tried to scam you, and the Thai/Farang dual pricing scheme at some attraction you just had to visit, that the reason you travel in the first place is to recapture that sense of wonderment with the world. At least until that kid’s runny nose reminds you that you caught a cold again because nothing breeds germs faster than the recycled air on a plane.

Seeing what their parents did to them, like their latest hair cut, is often good for a laugh too.

Thanks to that bastard I ran across in Malaysia who started this whole 7 Shots thingy off, photos of the little ones don’t often make it through my final cut. Some though are still too good to completely delete. And then there are those that I’ve discarded in favor of a shot of that particular child that I liked better. Some time ago I posted a Bonus Shot – Curiosity At The Wat – that perfectly fit that theme. It was only recently while cleaning through a bunch of old files that I ran across some of the other shots I’d taken of that kid (the opening shot in today’s post). He was such a cool, stylish little dude. I coulda done an entire 7 Shots post of him alone. And may still do so. The one of him when he ran over and punched his dad in the nuts is priceless. Although that shot was more about the dad than the kid. Since I missed honoring Father’s Day in Thailand last Friday (aka the King’s birthday) maybe I’ll remember next year and post that photo. Considering the Crown Prince’s recent antics, it might be appropriate.

Several years ago I also posted one of a series of photos I took of the kid above. I say kid, instead of boy or girl ‘cuz I usually can’t tell which is which at that age. And some slightly disgruntled parent once corrected me when I used the non-gender specific ‘it’. My bad. In any case, I took a lot of photos that day and while the one I previously posted was probably a better composition, I’m still hooked on these shots for two reasons. First, no others from that excursion better reminds me of that day, even though the photos of this kid have nothing to do with where we were or why we were there. Second, it was my first experience with one of Thailand’s bathroom buses. Which are kind of a group-hug, Thai version of a porta-pottie. Only more disgusting. The kid, and I assume its father, were up front in the driver’s seat. Which made for a better shot than what was going on in the back of the bus. And explained why Take Your Child To Work Day has never really caught on as an event in Thailand.

As is usually the case when I’m choosing my last of 7 shots, I wish that bastard had rounded up to an even 10. I’ve got several good candidates for today’s post of little kids who were selling postcards at every place I’ve ever visited in Cambodia; knowing poverty sells almost as well as sex (and I am NOT going there) those kid’s handlers usually make sure they are appropriately dirty and urchin-looking so that tourists will over-pay for their worthless stock. I’ve a handful of photos from Bali too of future massage shop workers, little girls on the streets of Kuta who you know will be headed that way as soon as they learn how to pronounce, “Massage, mistah?” correctly. But as endearing as photos of the plight of kids in third world countries can be, I’ll wrap this one up on a higher note and post this one to remind you that sometimes in life the best thing you can do is jump on a lamppost and enjoy the ride. ‘Cuz as disgusting a children can be, acting like one when you are an adult is always the preferable way to go.

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I’m not particularly a fan of either kids or old people. Extremes have never been my thing. The young and the old both tend to have the same problems – they get grumpy for no apparent reason, drool unexpectedly, have trouble forming a coherent sentence, and occasionally need their diaper changed. In my book, it’s best just to avoid the experience. But when it comes to photography either the very young or very old make for a good shot. They’re very expressive. Kids don’t know how to filter what they are thinking yet, and old people can’t be bothered. So I end up taking a lot of shots of both age groups. With kids I’m usually a bit more circumspect thanks to the fans of Sunee Plaza and my not wanting to appear to be one. But old people are fair game. Plus they don’t move quick enough to avoid my camera lens.

They say that life is the road to death; all you choose is your speed. Aging is inevitable, getting old not so much. There is a quiet dignity in old people’s faces. At least in those who age gracefully, who wear their wrinkles like a badge of honor. I think part of what attracts me to the old ‘uns as photography subjects is that there is so much life in their faces too, representing both the life they’ve lived and how much youth remains. And while I’ll generally snap shots off of faces in a crowd that interest me, I tend to engage the old folk I meet when I travel and often end up taking far more than my allotment of 7 shots of just that person alone.

I could have easily made this a 7 shots post all of the lady in the first photo above. I ran into her in Bali, indicated I wanted to take her picture, and then watched, amazed, as her face transformed itself through an entire gauntlet of emotions. This one – the first I took of her – looks like she’s giving me stink-eye, but instead it was a look of disbelief, questioning my sanity. Even though she spoke no English she’d understood my approach. I told her how beautiful she was. ‘Cuz flattery works in any language. And by the time she managed to affix a smile to her face, she really was beautiful. That’s a great shot too. But afterwards, when I showed her the shots I’d taken, this one caused her to laugh. So it ended up being my favorite.

From the old backpacker local in Luang Prabang, to the possibly a nun lady keeping a minor temple clean in Cambodia, to the old man taking tickets (from farang only) at a wat in Laos whose decrepit face mirrored that of the temple’s crumbling facade, it amazes me how willingly the elders in SE Asia are to spend some of their time interacting with a visitor, when nine times out of ten the two of you share no common language. And yet you manage to carry on a conversation anyway. Maybe it’s that my own age is advancing to a point where they feel I’m almost a contemporary. Or maybe it’s just they have nothing better to do with their day.

Considering what the Khmer Rouge did to the people of Cambodia, life could not have been easy for the old pseudo-nun who posed, beaming a glorious smile for me at Angkor Thom. Her smile was a testament to how enduring the human spirit can be. And the advanced age of the veggie seller at the morning market in Luang Prabang should be what sticks in my mind, but it was her pride in the produce grown on her family’s farm that came through. And while the last shot of the two women at the Burma boarder may not qualify as oldies in the ancient sense, that contemplative look of what tomorrow may bring fits well with the other shots in this post.

More recently during my travels I’m finding myself being stopped and asked to pose for some amateur photographer. I’d like to think it’s because I look so much like Brad Pitt. Or even that it’s just the strangeness of meeting a farang. But fear that it’s those wrinkles that have begun appearing on my face, those badges of honor that attest to the life I’ve lead, instead. I hope, at least, those photographers sensed my youthful spirit, or the dignity of my years. Because if they just thought it’d make for a funny shot then all I’ve managed to accomplish is to have become an old fool. Even if that may be closer to the truth.

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Often I pick a photographic theme for a trip to force my eye to pay a bit more attention to what surrounds me. It’s usually some innocuous idea that flittered across my mind that also allows me too play around a bit with which photographic subjects qualify. You’ve probably seen some of the resulting shots here before, even if they were never identified as being part of a specific trip’s theme. Others, like the Ubiquitous Plastic Stool Shot! have become legendary. There are also recurring themes that exist for no better reason than they tend to always draw my eye. People’s hands are one of those. They say that the eyes are the mirror to your soul; for me someone’s hands tell a much fuller story. And if you’ll quit thinking about that last happy ending you had at your favorite rub and tug shop, these shots might show you what I mean.

Since I have a few hundred pictures of people’s hands, abiding by the 7 Shot Rule, as usual, was a difficult chore. Even trying to cull through the lot and select only the best still left me with far more than seven. So I needed a sub-theme. And the idea of hands from an employment perspective seemed to work. As long as I wasn’t too strict with what qualified as employment. Think more along the lines of life’s work. Or the work that finances you life. Or that feeds your soul.

Even those of us who travel off the beaten path (and I don’t mean visiting those places everyone else who worships Lonely Planet visits too) primarily meet locals at their workplace. Which must suck for them. Not only because that often means they have to deal with farang all day but that it is a constant reminder that everyone else is on holiday and they are not. It’s kinda like being a bank teller. You spend your day watching hundreds of thousands of dollars pass through your hands, while earning minimum wage. But there is work and then there is work. Those who manage to snag a job doing something that they are passionate about are lucky. Even if they don’t make a lot of money, they still reap rewards. Even if at the hands of farang.

As I sorted through the mass of photos that fit within my sub-theme, that thought (working at a job you enjoyed, not the happy ending that is still hovering at the forefront of your thoughts) was on my mind. And while I can’t guarantee that everyone of these photos represents someone who loved the work they did, I think if there were accompanying shots of their smiles you’d probably agree I hit the mark. Thais are known for their smiles. Frequent visitors tend to learn just what the hundred of smiles every Thai had mastered actually mean. And those beamed by each of these folk were honest ones; they had more to do with their contentment with life than with the little bit of cash meeting me brought their way. Especially the old guy challenging one and all to a game of checkers on Khaosan Road. I wouldn’t call him a hustler. But unless you were an idiot you had to know you were gonna lose if you took him up on his challenge. And his smile was worth every baht I lost to him.

The photo of ticket taker on the Chao Phraya express boat is the only one in this group that immediately says work, and the only person who you could not immediately feel joy radiating from thanks to the work she was doing. Not that she was grumpy. She was just busy. The boat was packed and part of her job is tracking which customers she’s already collected the fare from and which she still needs to hit up. I was with some friends and already getting tired of being the tour guide so rather than being the one to say which pier we’d get off at, I made one of them ask the girl to let them know when they’d arrived at their destination. Needless to say, there was little joy radiating from my tour group thanks to that job either. And while being a tour guide is probably not part of the express boat ticket takers’ job duties, as busy as she was, she did manage to make it back to our group in time to tell us when to disembark. I tipped her a hundred baht. And there was nothing fake about the smile that 100 baht note bought me either. That my travel companions all now thought it was customary to tip ticket collectors was an added bonus.

Come to think about it, I coulda named this post 7 Shots: Hands That Have Been In My Wallet. Not that I feel obligated to pay everyone whose photo I take. But each of these seven did, either as a tip, donation, or payment. And it wasn’t just because I was visiting a temple, or buying a snack at the Sunday Night Market in Chiang Mai. Rather my hand went to my wallet because of the obvious enjoyment or pride each showed in what they were doing, in what their life’s work entailed. That tends to set someone apart from the pack. And while each, I’m sure, was appreciative to have a few baht handed their way, I like to think that someone recognized their pride in and love of what they were doing meant more.

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