So pleased were we, and so limited the other prospects in Old Sukhothai, that we elected to stay at the Legendha for dinner, and the show...
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| Bridge to the restaurant |
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| My Tom Yum Goong, best ever, so far, until I cooked my own in Chiang Mai |
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| Her pork chop |
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| Little did we know we'd be slicing these pretties ourselves in just a few days... |
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Lost in translation: the Tom Yum was great, but I also ordered something else,
more substantial, which never appeared; an hour later (they were busy with
turbusses, which take priority over everything), they brought me this, minced
pork and basil and blue dye #4 rice, and some broth; Vicki was cool-headed and
face-saving, and the evening was preserved |
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| And the show began...the kid on the boatish marimba was great |
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And they brought us fruit as a consolation prize for the meal not delivered (and
not charged for) |
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| And the show went on |
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| Women with baskets and men with poles |
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| The symbolism was not lost on some of us |
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The real drama was in the grass--but not splendor--where a poor chameleon was
nearly trampled but then made his/her way to safety in a bush beneath our table |
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| Tending our baskets |
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| Together |
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| The production values were diminished only slightly by the washing crew, stage right |
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| The turbussers all had left by this point but the rest of us cheered and applauded |
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