Back to Bangkok, and the search for a worthless trinket.

At the end of my last post, I had met the lovely ghostlike Buddha, but was yet to explore the old city of Sukhothai. And what a treat that was.

The old city is now a World Heritage Site, safely preserved behind the remains of its walls. The rough-and-tumble of the modern city is left outside; there are acres of scrubby grass, a few (mercifully shady) trees and stone pathways all containing the remains of the old city. And I loved it - as this is slightly off the main tourist highway it was easy to stroll from one site to another, to stand and stare without being in the way of those taking photos, or waiting for the onslaught of tour groups. So there was space to look and to think. 

Many people cycle around. Not on a bike like this, but I like the photograph!

For those who have been to Angkor Wat, or know the pictures, the construction of some of these temples will be  familiar. 

One day, I need to research the history of the area, from the north of Thailand and into Cambodia. Some of these temples were ransacked during an invasion from Myanmar, so it seems likely that there are cultural links there too. (Would I like to visit Myanmar to find out? Of course I would. But common sense says it’s not the best idea for me to go walkabout in Myanmar!)

In hindsight, would I have liked longer in Sukhothai - yes. But for once I’ve planned this trip, had transport booked to a room at a resort outside Khao Yai National Park. However, the resort was further from the Park than I realised, and visiting was going to be a challenge. I could, says the woman at the hotel, get a taxi and walk in the Park on my own. I had another burst of common sense: walking on my own in a Park with wild elephants isn’t the greatest idea. And a tour? I could be picked up at 7.00, go rafting and trekking in time for a quick lunch and then so many activities it was tired just looking at the list, finally returned to the hotel by 8 in the evening. I saw young people stride off, and good luck to them. I’d rather not be the poor old soul at the back they were always waiting to catch up. 

Did that matter? Here is where I spent most of my time, reading, writing, and watching the world go by:

And so, with just three days before I fly home, I’ve come back to Bangkok. 

On a shelf at home, I have a collection of worthless trinkets: small mementoes that carry great memories from many great journeys. And so my task, while I’m here, is to find another trinket to join them to become another part of my travelling journey. Do I need a little Buddha? A Chinese cat that waves, perhaps? Another painted elephant? 

Or maybe I’ll sit in this courtyard a little longer …

The White Temple

 This is the reason I came to Chiang Rai:

Some years ago I took a hop-on-hop-off trip through Northern Thailand and into Laos. The purpose of that trip, for me, was to go to Laos. But we hopped off for about half an hour in Chiang Rai to visit this temple. Just long enough to be amazed, but not long enough to really look at it. So this time I had a taxi that agreed to wait for me, and I could take as long as I needed.

It is astonishing. And not only from a distance; here are a few close ups of curly bits (they have a proper name; I hope someone will tell me what it is.)

It is also, predictably, heaving with tourist. There is a stall outside for hiring Thai clothes. They are beautiful, and so of course people want to have their photo taken at every opportunity, preferably with no one else in the picture. I do understand that, but when I’ve stood aside for the fiftieth time, I began to wish someone would put the camera down for a second to let me pass.

Churlish? Possibly. But with no photography inside the temple itself, most people walked straight through without looking at the Buddhas or the paintings on the walls. Not even a nod of the head and hands together in prayerful acknowledgment, so eager were they to get to the next photo opportunity. But the inside of the temple is equally stunning: the walls are all in shades of yellow/orange/gold. At one end, what looks like a skull gazes down from above the doorway and below that are wide, terrifying eyes. Facing this: glorious Buddhas. I’m no Buddhist, but I edged out of the crowd to sit on the carpet for a while. I can’t say I meditated (I can’t shut my mind up) but did seize some reflective moments. This temple is astonishing; it is also a working temple. Somewhere there are monks with quiet work to do. What do they make of the hordes? 

I hauled myself up, eventually, and carried on. Whichever way you look, this is extraordinary. Was this fountain designed to have a rainbow, or was I just lucky to catch the light.

Finally, I needed to leave. With a pit stop at a golden toilet …

From Chaing Rai, a long bus journey from Chaing Rai to Sukhothai. This is the ancient capital of Thailand; tomorrow I will explore its magnificence.

But already I have found this one, very modern Buddha, made from wires. I thought I’d had my fill of Buddhas, but this one has floored me. From a distance it’s almost ghostly. I’m not sure I know why I like it so much. Maybe it’s simply suggesting that the faithful fill this apparently empty Buddha for themselves: it becomes the Buddha they need. Or maybe you’ve got a better idea?

What is the collective noun for Buddhas?

I’m in Thailand, and of course Buddhas are everywhere. But I hadn’t realised, till I started looking, that Buddhas come in so many shapes and sizes.

I think this is the Buddha that is most instantly recognized by those of us in the West?

Many of the older, stone Buddhas also have him in the traditional pious pose:

And then today I found something that made sense of some of the differences: Buddha, it seems, strikes a different pose for each day of the week. Wednesday looks like hard work:

Maybe to make up for Tuesday:

I hope the Thai information below this cheerful Buddha suggests he can enjoy himself any day:

And this wandering Buddha doesn’t seem attached to a day either:

It was a passing comment in a book I’m currently reading by Thubron, on his travels in Northern Nepal, when he describes a ‘generous field of salvation and a hint of variegated Buddhas, bodhisattvas and Hindu deities in disguise.’ Given that Thubron was struggling to disentangle it all, I don’t suppose I’m going to get very far in one month, Oh well. 

And this is still my favourite (in a temple in Ayutthaya): a stone statue fell and the head became entangled in tree roots. I can’t help wondering what this Buddha makes of all those magnificent gold images:

 In 

So, it seems I can only observe all these magnificent Buddhas - I’ve seen a few on my travels, marveled at many, but still have only a flimsy understanding of the depth of feeling he engenders in his followers. 

And for now I’m Buddha’d out. What next …?

Noooooooo! I can hear my daughters from here. ‘Mum, you’ve been trying to cook for over 60 years and still can’t produce a decent omelette. What makes you think you can make a Pad Thai?’ They are right. Perhaps I’ll save myself the embarrassment.

So, do I go to an ‘ethical elephant experience.’ Of course, all the elephant parks describe themselves as ethical. So I’ve tried to unpick what’s on offer: all the parks invite tourists to engage with the elephants in some way. We can feed them, bath them, roll in the mud with them … apart from the mud bit, it all looks very inviting. But I spotted the small print at the bottom of a news article the other day: a tourist in Southern Thailand, at one such experience, has been killed by an elephant. I don’t know the whole story, but the postscript included a warning that engaging with different groups of tourists day after day is not normal elephant behaviour, and can be stressful for them. They should be foraging, in matriarchal groups, protecting each other from all comers. Why should they have a bath to order? or roll in the mud just so someone can get a good photo? (To be honest, I don’t think I’d be too impressed if half a dozen strangers tried to jump in the bath with me every day and offer to scrub my back.)

I know elephants have been used in tourism, one way and another, for a long time. At its crudest, they need to earn their keep. And I’ve been privileged to see elephants in the wild, doing normal elephant things; many have not been so fortunate so I understand the appeal of an ‘ethical elephant experience.’ But I think I’ll pass.

Maybe I’ll just sit by a lake with a mango shake… 

Why would you want to get your eyelashes permed?

Bangkok is a wonderful city. Oh I know it's polluted - diesel hangs in the air like soup, and there's the endless hiss and smell of frying street food. I know it's noisy - the honking of car horns, the music blaring from restaurants and bars. I know it's exploitative, of tourist and Thai alike. But I still love it.

There are so many things to do. On Saturday I visited the Palace - all gold and glitter and, to western eyes, possibly over the top, but even so it is sumptuous and there are unexpectedly peaceful corners. The city has parks - maybe not as green as those at home, but still places with scrubby trees where you can find shade on the hottest days. There are vast, air-conditioned shopping malls, though you won't see me there.

Instead I'm lurking in the backpackers heaven of Khao San Road. And here you can buy anything. You can choose material and have a suit made. You can have a foot massage, a shoulder massage. You can have your fungally feet nibbled by fish who have, just five minutes ago, been nibbling at someone else's fungals. You can buy skirts, t-shirts, baggy trousers, necklaces, pirated DVDs, scarves, knickers. You can buy a driving license and a degree certificate.

Go to Chinatown and, in the tiny market stalls, you can find wigs, fabric, gold (possibly fake), remedies for everything from alopecia to athletes foot.

Go to the Amulet Market and you can find old coins, artefacts (possibly fake), glasses, dildos, false teeth.

Make it back to Khao San Road in one piece and you can get a piercing, a tattoo, get your hair cut.

You can get your eyelashes permed ... What??

Why would anyone want to get his or her eyelashes permed?

And then, should anyone decide that his or her life is not complete without curly eyelashes, what is involved in the procedure? A smelly lotion and tiny curlers? (Pause to savour that image for a second.)

Am I missing something? It my life really incomplete without permed eyelashes?

(Sorry if I'm letting the side down heading for Malaysia with none of this stuff!)

The year has turned. Time to pack those bags again.

The decorations are in hiding for another year. We are launched into January, a little older, no wiser, but hopefully with dreams intact after all the festive excess.

It's not an easy time of year. Winter stretches in front of us - the weather can delight or depress us, but always makes life hard work. All that putting in and taking off of clothes. The lost gloves. The heavy coats that get even heavier when they are wet. Soggy feet.

Hang on a minute - what am I complaining about? I'm off to Bangkok on Wednesday.

I'm not actually complaining - I'm trying to be empathetic. To show that I do understand that life isn't all log fires and crumpets while I'm away. That you are all keeping the show on the road while I'm ... swanning around the Far East.

You are unconvinced by my empathy? All I can say, in my defence, is assure you that I've done my share of British winters and know I'm just rubbish at them. I hate the cold, the dark, the wet, the lack of colour.

And I'm privileged - I know I am - to be able to turn my back on the seasonal horribleness and head for the sun.

Why the Far East again? Because I love it. Cuba was hard work (as some of you know) so I want to go somewhere I feel at home, where I know how to get about and look after myself, and maybe to look up a few of the people I met on my long trip.

Will I write about it - I know I say, every year, that I won't make promises. And then I come home and write. This year feels a bit different, because I know more or less what to expect and it doesn't include adventures like cyclones and tigers, nor the trauma of a terrifying history. This is a journey just for me, going somewhere I love.

Having said that, I shall carry on blogging, and there will be plenty of photos when I get back. And if I do stumble into an adventure or two (which is definitely not in the plan) I might revise my ideas about writing another book.

(Forgive me for rushing off, I have packing to do. And I hope you all have excitements of one shape or another to cheer these dark days.)