Wat - The only proper response to something that makes absolutely no sense. (urbandictionary.com)
What a 48 hours! After that last blog entry, I am grateful to myself for taking me out!! I started the day with a burst of drama - a mutual friend of Aaron and I had talked with Aaron and got the scoop on what his side of things were and the mystery of why I was tossed out in the middle of the night was solved.
Of course I'll share, albiet briefly. It was Miss Peacock with the whiskey bottle on the porch. Yes, that was for you Mom, after all of those many hours playing Clue with me. ;) And not too far off... The brief description I got via IM went along the lines of I had apparently chucked a bottle of whiskey at Aaron, struck him in the face, and he had a black eye for two weeks after. Now, if you've been reading the blog, in particular the entry regarding that night, you will notice I left out that detail and remained completely baffled up until yesterday. This which would indicate either a complete blackout lasting just long enough for me to go suddenly violent (unlikely), total lies from Aaron (less likely), or the bottle somehow ended up in his face by an accident and he thinks I did that with malice aforethought (likely).
I gathered my wits with Ativan and an hour plus phone conversation with my dear friend Kate, reviewed my maps, packed everything I would need for the day, and jumped on the Honda Click. Andale adventure! Traffic was thick in town and I practiced my motorbike ducking and dodging in a stream of college students on their way to University and all of the other traffic. One point I found myself using my left foot on the sidewalk edge as I ran the bike around a deep pothole, the only ridable surface between the sidewalk and the truck as wide as my tire. The secret to my motorbike prowess (which is decidedly lacking....) is to do whatever I see the locals doing, try to be more polite, and let the eager ones pass me.
I know statues are popular at Wats, but really????
I made it out of town with all parts intact and headed up a hill overlooking the city, the afternoon sun sinking lower into the sky and casting large, cool shadows over the winding road. It was a ride like the ride to Pai, but much, much shorter. And, like Pai, I stopped at a waterfall, paid tourist price for park entry, and got in the water. It was in lots of foilage, a waterfall of paradise with golden sunlight streaming through the huge leaves and casting warm patterns on the water.
Public toilet at park
sunlight through the forest
A short drive later, I stopped at a viewpoint and joined Thai, Japanese, and European travelers to look out over Chiang Mai. A few kilometers up the mountain, I pulled over to climb a bunch of stairs to a mountain-top Wat. In my imagination, it was just me, a couple of monks, a few more Buddhists, and silence in a holy place. Instead, a small town had sprung up at the foot of the Wat stairs where you could by any manner of street food, and the shops continued to crowd the area, even up to the first landing on the stair climb. I was winded and sweating when I reached the top along with hundreds of visitors. I started by walking around the Wat itself, admiring the cluster of buildings, stepping into smaller Wats around the perifery, watch children ring the rows of bells, faces alight with joy as they sent out a cacophony of sound.
so tempting!
hilltribe girl making baht
someone powered up for the stair climb
chedi walk
One Wat in particular was handsomely carved and decorated teak, tiny, and manned by a statue of a monk so lifelike I spent a minute figuring out it wasn't alive. (no blinking, hasn't moved, really an amazing meditator??) When I reached the front of the Wat again, I put my last (of two) pair of shoes in my bag, opting out of the huge pile of hundreds of shoes (you CAN rent a shoe locker, for a small fee right there too. Yup, Wat lockers). There were a few more stairs, a small opening, and then I was inside of a large courtyard reminiscinet of part of Italy, with an overhang shading many Buddha statues surrounded by detailed paintings of stories. I wanted to smack the farang leaning on one as his wife took his picture (oh, there's that violent tendency again!). The whole Wat was like a Russian doll of Wats in Wats. In the center was a huge gold chedi around which devotees would walk, holding a prayer card, a single lotus flower purchased from the nuns at the door and a prayer candle.
There were various prayer and plea practices, boxes under statues to put baht in, tons of stuff on fire, and lots of Buddhas watching us all serenely as the gold leaf stuck on statues to increase luck shuddered in the wind created from all of the surrounding fire. There was a nook where two men in wheelchairs prayed, and this was the first Wat I'd seen with wheelchair access and lots of folks in wheelchairs. For those of you who are thinking, but didn't you have to climb like 300 stairs to get UP there? Well brainiac, you are right! There's a tram. :) Gosh you don't miss much.
I cruised through the crowds, dodged as many cameras as I could (note to self: perfect photo bombing), and found a tiny Wat in the Wat in the Wat with a corner I planted myself in. Sitting as they do in Thailand (mermaid style), I sat for over an hour and watched. The room was tiny (10x10 meters max) and over 2/3rds was taken up by heaps of Buddha statues of all shapes, sizes, materials, and decorated with the same variety. A monk was seated on the opposite side on a small platform, his orange robe pulled back from one shoulder (the style of the monk at home - they cover up when they leave the Wat), exposing a remarkable amount of Sak Yant. Sak Yant is a tattoo given with a sharp piece of bamboo and comprised of tons of beautiful, intricate symbols, text, and images (typically animals), and is supposed to be amazingly powerful. One Sak Yant is supposed to protect against bullets, for example. Lots of farang get these tattoos as well - without knowing the meaning, in inappropriate places on the body (not below the belt folks.... sheesh), and it can really offend the Thai people.
You may know this already, but being a novice and/or a monk is practically compulsory for the men in Thailand and almost every man has served at a temple at some time in his life, often getting a Sak Yant at some point in his service. Now that's just not another pretty tattoo.
the real deal - not just a tattoo farang
lovely, not a photo op!
carved temple
so bright it's hard to look at
this elephant carried the chedi up the mountain, died there, and that's where they put it. Logical, really.
burn prayers, burn!
gold leaf
this thing is 10 feet tall
Back to the Wat... The monk received groups of devotees who would come in and do a variety of wais (bows). One woman did the most complex I'd seen and it was damn close to yoga - stand and bow, kneel and bow, head to the floor, stand and repeat and repeat... you get the picture. One man brought in his elderly father and patiently helped him go through one of these bow sessions, settled him in front of the monk, and carried him back to standing at the end. These groups, after giving proper attention to the monk and statues, would wait just a few feet away sitting on the floor until the monk motioned them closer, at which point he would dip a bound cluster of young bamboo sticks in holy water and sprinkle the group as he chanted. Everyone got the blessing, but the occasional group would be motioned closer and he would take a short length of white cotton cord from a sizable spool mounted near him and dip it in the water and tie it onto the wrist of the every person. Based on the expressions and wais that ensued, this was a very good thing.
After a few groups had gone through, I noticed an sign in English that read, "Holy water, holy cotton cord, good for everything". Can't beat that. One group of college students came into the wat, each bearing a monk kit - prepackaged goods you purchase at wats and gift to the monks. Most contain food, a monk robe, or medical supplies. Occasionally a farang would poke their head in, snap a few pictures, and wander back out. I remained tucked motionless in my little corner, passed on the blessing and cord (how could I be MORE blessed?) and left. On the way down, I stopped and purchased three reed bracelets from a hilltribe girl and had her tie them onto my wrist, every motion patient and careful, including snipping the long ends with a tiny pair of scissors.
The ride down was so fun, every curve of the road was a leaning, accelerating joy and I heard my father's voice many times as he had taught me when I first learned to drive, going tight into the curve and accelerating out. I weaved my way back to the Smile guesthouse and immediately ran into a ton of chatty folks! I spent the next hour chatting up a couple who had just arrived in Chiang Mai and Thailand (Korean air is doing a flight from SF to Chiang Mai with only a short layover in Seoul - yeah, I agree that's awesome too). This was followed by going out with Julia, a German woman travelling solo, to a raggae bar on a roof and crammed with young, loud European 20-somethings getting their drunk holiday on. There was a tuk-tuk ride to the college area of town and another bar crammed with young people, this time all Thai and pretty interesting.
I know statues are popular at Wats, but really????
My buddy is back and living in my sink. Teeth not brushed that night.
only 100 baht for stuff in a necklace.
Electric wire, Thai code style
chedi and moon
Today was a recovery from last night and a brief sojourn into the Sunday walking market for some cheap, good eats, and a few gifts to send home for Wesley and Foster. They are going to look sooooo cute in little Thai boy outfits! :) I am seeing an early bedtime on my schedule as well, tomorrow is moving from my dear Smile house to MiCasa near the night market and with wifi IN the rooms (plus fridge). Will take pics and share.
Which brings me to the end and one last observation. As you know, I'm a HUGE fan of the minivan (especially filled with cassaroles covered with potato chips...), finding it one of the best vehicles invented. And here, the minivan is the Honda Click (or any scooter/motorbike). Getting groceries? Honda Click. Shleping construction supplies? Honda Click (and your left hand or a complex bamboo constructed device). Getting that hog to the butcher? Honda Click. Picking up your four kids from school? You guessed it, Honda Click can handle it. Minivan of the east.
*I have seen all of these, usually daily.