Cut to Sam Chuk in November 2005, and the town is an entirely different entity. Street traders line its roads,
plying wares typical to the region such as dried fish and kiap bau, a sweet, flat bread. Cars with Bangkok plates
pull up, disgorging curious tourists. And the market is unrecognizable. Having been given a clean-up by the
town’s residents, it is bustling, its food stalls attractively arranged, the shiny concrete floors spanking clean. On a
street leading off from the market is a handsome two-storey home with wooden louvres, which once belonged to
the town’s richest person. Converted into a folk museum a year ago, the wooden walls now hang old black-andwhite
photos of the town’s residents.