I was struggling more than usual.
I had gone on a photo outing not too far from our home, hoping to take advantage of the “Golden Hour,” a favorite time of photographers, the hour just before sunset (and just after sunrise) when the light is warm, angled, and a bit soft.
But the outing wasn’t going well. I kept getting “cold shoulders,” people declining to have their photos taken.
This happens, and I always respect the person’s wish with a warm nod and move on. Generally people smile and nod as well. But that evening it was happening far more than usual, and without any warm acknowledgements. Maybe I was throwing off a bad vibe.
Then a dog growled at me. That never happens. Bangkok dogs are docile, unperturbed by humans. I was walking down a narrow public road I’d walked multiple times in the past without a problem from dogs or people.
I retreated toward a small park nearby, feeling like the outing was a bust. The park sat shaded under two highway overpasses, covered mostly with gravel and a few plants, and holding a couple small soccer goals. A short paved track wound its way through the gravel and around the perimeter of the park, less than a tenth of a mile in total.
As I rounded one of the pillars supporting an overpass, I noticed an older man reclining on a bench, clearly resting after his workout. My mojo meter was pegging empty, so I intended to walk past and perhaps offer a quick smile if he made eye contact. But he returned my smile, and said, “Good evening.”
My meter climbed just above empty, and I asked, “Can I take your picture?”
“Sure.”
He pulled on his mask, probably in courtesy to me, but I would have preferred the photo without it. I also preferred the reclining pose I found him in, but he sat more formally, looking seriously into the distance. I was still happy to take the shot.
He asked where I was from. I answered the U.S., and that I lived in Bangkok now.
He smiled, and replied, “Welcome to Thailand.”
I needed that.