From a NYTimes.com article I read this morning about the protests in Thailand:
"Bangkok has canceled traditional festivities on Khaosan Road, a well-known backpacker haven that was the scene of bloody battles Saturday night."
I cannot imagine blood or battles on Khaosan Road, a place I went to a couple of weekends during my time in Thailand. When I think of Khaosan Road I think of a crowded rooftop bar with a band playing heavily accented Western pop songs. I think of people clutching sweaty Chang and Singha beers, standing with my friends, sweaty and flushed from the hot air, while a heavy rain pours down on the awning above us. When I think of Khaosan Road I think of vendors selling bland versions of Thai food to all of the drunken backpackers on their way back to their hostels and guest-houses at three in the morning. I think of loud, booze soaked Australians and dirty, smelly backpackers freshly arrived wandering around with wide eyes in the place made famous by traveler's tales and movies like The Beach.
I cannot picture blood there. I don't want to. Lord willing, this all ends soon, because it breaks my heart to picture violence erupting in a nation I associate with so much kindness, generosity and peace.