But the jet lag, heat, and satiated bellies proved too much for us so and so we decided to save Chatuchak Weekend Market for another day (or for an another trip!); perhaps the last day of the tour was better since we would be back in Bangkok. A drive-by snapshot of an entrance would have to suffice until then.
It had seemed strange that I had a hankering for the pineapple displayed at one of the street stalls we passed while walking back to the nearest metro station. The plantation camp in Hawaii where I was raised was surrounded on three sides by fields of the serrated fruit. Both parents and most relatives worked with the plant, whether planting, picking, or packaging. I detested pineapples the way I imagined a long-time MacDonalds prep cook hated McNuggets.
Maybe because they were so cute-looking. Maybe because they were served spiral-cut in a plastic bag with a long skewer. Or maybe because they were accompanied with a mysterious packet of powdered seasoning. Whatever the reason, we had to buy some. They made me honestly love pineapple again. Incredibly sweet (not artificially) and made more delicious dipped in the powdery blend of sugar, chili powder, and salt (which we tried to recreate at home to no avail). We found out from our tour guide the following day that they were called Phu Lae pineapples and grown in the northern Thai region of Chiang Rai. If only I could find a way to smuggle a pineapple crown or two back to my parents’ garden!
A peculiar thing we also noticed as we stared out the metro train windows, more than eager to reach our room for a much deserved nap, was that many of the fences, doorways, and buildings we zoomed past were festooned in black and white. We would find out on day 2 of the vacation why this was so.
