Wat Pho, Bangkok.
As I drew the stone giants that guard the gates, friendly locals explained that they date from Rama 4, and we were up to Rama 9. So they were old.
Behind me a buddhist priest was restoring a piece of furniture. Suddenly I felt a stinging pain.
The priest had managed to fire this from his nail gun into the small of my back. He rushed over. "You OK? You OK?" He lifted my shirt, examining the impact point, too far round for me to see. "You OK. You OK." he said with a mischievous smile and returned to his work. None of which seemed very buddhist. Thankfully he didn't break the skin.
Street Stall, Bangkok.
The fried rice was good but I think these guys were a little annoyed that I continued to draw while they packed up around me.