The sound of boat engines starting and dying, hands rustling through boxes of goods and souvenirs, and the fusion of unfamiliar languages fill the thick, humid air.  The boat driver steers towards a booth hanging over the polluted green river.  An elderly man with drooping dark skin and a striking white beard takes his long hook and slams it down onto the side of the boat, reeling us in like a school of fish.  Shiny gold elephants, wooden Buddha heads, an impressive array of handmade toys, and key chains reading “I heart Thailand” are all displayed neatly on shelves.  The wood creeks and bends as he walks towards us with an elephant in hand. 
     “You want buy?” he asks.
     “No thank you.”
     “Cheap, good price.”
     As we shake our heads, the boat engine starts up again and the elderly man is already onto hooking in his next costumer.  Floating beside our boat is a woman wrapped up in a colorful kimono with a bamboo hat strung tightly onto her head.  She reaches onto our boat with her hand and pulls us in.  Her boat is filled to the brim with exotic and colorful fruits.  Bananas, mangoes, coconuts, durian, and dragon fruits.   As she flips sizzling cakes of bean curd, she asks,
     “You want buy da coconut?”
     “Um… No thank you.”
     “You like banana?”
     The slightest shake of our heads has her pushing away our boat in disappointment.  We slowly make our way through the crowded river, stopping occasionally when another hook comes flying down onto our boat.  Boats pass by in all directions, filled with sunscreen covered tourists snapping pictures of everything they see.  Each boat has its own local driver wearing dirty slippers and stain filled clothes.  Every booth is filled with desperate families trying to earn some money in this third world country. 
     We hear the boat engine die down and out from the crevices comes a hand.  It reaches down and pulls in the boat.  A dark-skinned man kneels down wearing bright red shoes and a fancy looking scarf.  A cigarette hangs from his lips.  His scarf slowly begins to move and then slither as he grabs a hold of it and sticks a snake’s head in our face.  It glares at us with its beady eyes, while its long pink tongue slithers back and forth. 
     “You want to hold?” he asks
     “No, no thanks!”
     “Friendly. No bite!” he exclaims as he opens its mouth to reveal the extracted fangs.
     We wave our hands frantically to signal the driver to move along.  We make our way into a village where small wooden houses are built over the river.  Hungry children peer at us as we float along the disease infested waters where their homes rot away.  Children fill buckets of water and lug them over creaking planks of wood into their homes.  Their eyes follow us as we pass by.  Mothers sit on their knees, scrubbing clothes and hanging them up to dry.  We watch families complete their everyday chores as if they were a bunch of zoo animals behind a glass cage.  They look back at us the same.