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That Old White Magic


That Old White Magic…..
Sujin collected his hand baggage and made the short way to the
back of the aircraft and the open rear door. It seemed that cargo
had been stored in the front of the aircraft and the forward do or
would be used to off-load it. Sujin had flown on Bangkok Airways
for supposed economy and had expected to fly on an Airbus A-319
and was disappointed. Instead the aircraft was a propeller driven
ATR72. He was further disappointed to find that an air bridge had
not been used and that the passengers would have to board a bus to
take them to the terminal building.
Standing on the tarmac Sujin smelled the air. Apart from the
kerosene smell of the various aircraft and other airport related
mechanical odors, Sujin also smelt Thailand – flowers, a nearby
town and people. Perhaps it was a good omen but still – Strasbourg
and France, his adopted home, was a long way away and Kerala on
the Malabar Coast of south-west India, his birth home, although
closer – still far away.
Sujin was quite short and had some difficulty hopping onto the
first step to board the bus. Eventually he succeeded, found a seat
and retrieved his old baseball cap from his hand baggage to wear.
Although he had to wait for a while for his checked bag to appear
in the baggage hall – his passage through the airport was fairly
quick. He had visited Thailand before and done a lot of research
into Chiang Mai where he planned to stay. He arranged an airport
taxi, which did not seem too expensive to take him to his guest
house.
The taxi drove through the busy streets and crossed what looked
like a moat. The driver pulled up and told Sujin that he could not
drive up the Soi, where the guesthouse was located, as it was too
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