Stonehenge in Bangkok
New Englanders are relatively starved of archaeological ruins other than frost-heaved stone walls from vanished farms snaking through the woods or the smooth walls of the Quincy Quarries. Not one of the Seven Wonders of the World was on our side of the Atlantic. None from Africa or the Far East graced list either thanks to the Eurocentricity of the 19th Century’s tomb raiders.
My 7 wonders of the world are the Potala in Lhasa, the funereal Ghats of Varanasi, the Brooklyn Bridge, the Sanctuary of Truth in Pattaya, the Chartes Cathedral, the moon-lit combs atop Tikal’s pyramids in Guatemala, and Sophie’s Bar in Phnom Penh.
Antiquity is not a requisite nor is size.
I suppose I could have substituted Stonehenge, since recently archaeologists have uncovered a vast network of Neolithic villages on Salisbury Plain in England suggesting the earthworks at Stonehenge were part of a much larger religious complex.
British authorities have ropes off the stone circle from the public.
Previously you could drive up to them in the middle of the night and have a drunken party with a fire. Too many beer louts in the UK for that now. Football fans would probably attempt a form of cow tipping with the 4000 year-old monoliths.
Bangkok had its own Stonehenge in the Hopewell Project.
Billions of baht spent for a commuter rail system.
Hundreds of years from now there will discovered by future inhabitants of the world who will wonder what was the Hopewell Project’s purpose. Same as anyone driving past them today.
A road to nowhere or Thailand’s attempt to rival Stonehenge.
I’ve only been to Stonehenge once.
With my friend AJ on a Neolithic tour of the Salisbury Plain.
Avesbury Circle, Stonehenge, and then the Silbury Mound.
Archaeologists have argued over whether the Druids, ETs, the devil, Merlin, or drunks with time on their hands built the massive monuments. As a descendant of Celtic blood I prefer the Druid theory.
On my visit I intended to strip naked, however the Avesbury Circle and Stonehenge were swarmed by tourists. Not so the Silbury Hill.
The ancient mound rises over the treeless plain. No one else was at the site. AJ and I climbed 130 feet to the top. AJ explained the mound had been built by thousands of workers over scores of years in different periods dating back over 4000 years.
Older than Stonehenge.
Older than me even on mornings after I’ve drunk a lot.
The day was sunny. AJ and I stripped naked.
We vowed not to believe in gods.
Neither of us glanced at the other’s body.
Better that way, because straight men should be naked in the same room together. Gay men. No problem. Naked all they want.
Straight men?
Only in a locket room and no peeking allowed, which is why Michelangelo’s DAVID is also a Wonder of the World. Firstly no one talks about the nudity or that the penis is so small. About as small as mine after a night of blow.
Ask GW Bush he knows.
But there’s no chance I’ll get naked at the Hopewell ruins.
Have to wait another 4000 years until they deserve such an expose. Thankfully by that time I will be dust in the wind and any thoughts about naked men atop the Silbury Hill are forgotten too.
sic transit gloria.
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