Zev

Yesterday we ventured out of the city, taking a tour to one of the floating markets and seeing a show in a traditional "Thai village" although it was a totally set up village for tourists. Lots of fun and good shopping and adventures to be had by one and all.

The bus already filled with people picked us up at our hotel in the early morning and headed into the countryside. Our guide filled us in on what we were passing, but it seemed like she only knew the word for "right" so everything was on the "righthand side." I was looking out the window, thinking, "Wait a minute. There's nothing on the right. But there seems to be something similar to what she's describing on the left. Does she want us to keep looking right until we circumnavigate the globe and turn up left?" (Jordo was listening to his ipod during this ride so he missed it but I filled him in later while I was climbing a coconut tree. Listening carefully to the guide, he concluded she was saying "left" sometimes but it sounded like, "ref" so the r-sound was throwing me off.)

Our fellow travelers were a mildly interesting bunch, including a group of three we called the "Romanian Dance Team" (RDT), which appeared to featured two parents and a daughter but whose relationships with each other were clouded later in the trip. (On the ride back to Bangkok, the alleged father and daughter were holding hands in a way I've never held my father's fand. "Dad" also kissed "daughter" fondly at one point during the ride.)

But the most memorable fellow tourist was Zev.

Zev was from Israel. He was travelling with a blond woman wearing sweatpants that said "Brasil" across the butt. He was completely bald, tall and husky, but in shape. He seemed a bit too suave for school.

We, of course, concluded he was Mossad and spent the rest of the day trip 1) trying to determine his mission and 2) thinking up ways to trip him up so he'd blow his cover: "Wow, Zev, check out that guy over there with the 'I (heart) Iran's Revolutionary Guard' shirt. Kinda crazy, eh? Where would someone buy one of those?" Then when Zev followed the man into the bathroomm then emerged smiling moments later while he put an "Out of Order" sign on the door, we'd know.)

Everything Zev did, we tried to tie back to his days fighting terrorists for his home state. When we met people with snakes around their necks who offered to let us hold the pythons for a small fee, Zev got as freaked out as someone with his military training would allow themselves to get. He walked away from the snakes while his companion laughed and kept saying, "Oh, give him the snake. He likes snakes" while Zev shook his head and, probably, readied the knife in his pocket. Jordo and I pondered this fear: Earlier mission gone awry? Overemphasis with Indiana Jones?

When we talked to Zev, he told us of the many places he'd visited in the US, including both coasts and Las Vegas, which kept us busy trying to remember if any world leaders had been assassinated lately in any of those places. He told us he lived outside Tel Aviv, but note he didn't say exactly where.

You have to be careful if you're Zev.

Jordo wondered if the woman with Zev was his wife and I guessed it was his girlfriend, partially because high-flying James Bond types don't have wives and, if they did, they left them at home to take care of the house while they toured the world with their dalliances. (Sorry, I'm standing in the way of your jet-setting lifestyle of espionage, Jordo.) We then turned her into one of Zev's missions: Her Brasil-loving pants revealed her familiarity with South America, her blonder than blond hair meant she could have been of German descent. Could Zev's relationship with her be part of a long-running mission to bring the woman's Nazi father to justice? "He's just like Eric Bana in that movie," Jordo whispered to me at one point, referring to "Munich."

Zev, of course, was completely unaware of our wackiness and did not notice the way we followed him around the Thai village. As we prepared to watch a Muy Thai and dance performance, we realized we had to move into the center seating area, but to do so would have put us right next to Zev. "He'll think we're following him," J said, even though we were. We chose to sit a few rows behind Zev and Eva Braun, amazed he even let someone sit in his blind spot.

When we parted with Zev, he told us he was leaving the city to go to the north of Thailand. God knows what will happen there. Please note:
Zev arrives in Bangkok = Formerly peaceful protest turns deadly and violent.
Zev goes to Northern Thailand = Myanmar border skirmishes? Declaration of war with Cambodia?

Stay tuned.

Fortunately, we are leaving today and heading south for the beach area of Phuket, which promises to be calm and soothing, even if it was hit by the tsunami. At least Zev won't be there.

But I wonder where he was in December 2004.