Wat Chaiwatthanarum, Ayuthaya

Ayuthaya Thailand (population 90,000), the royal capitol of Siam from 1350 to 1767, has a fascinating history.  It’s located an hour and a half north of Bangkok.  It’s a cheerful little modern city built in an around a beautiful but sad old city.  In its day, Ayuthaya had a population of 1,000,000 and had a reputation for being one of the most amazing cities in the world … and the most “glittery.”  According to Kosoom, the well-traveled Thai lady who owns the lovely 100 year old teak Baan Lotus Guesthouse where I stayed, all of the Buddha statues in the city (we’re talking tens of thousands) and many of the temple stupas (again, the numbers are quite high) were covered in pure gold.  Many of the smaller statues were made entirely of gold.  When the sun glinted off of them, I can imagine that the city must have looked like a giant disco ball.

Burma, historically never on fabulous terms with its Siamese neighbor, invaded Ayuthaya in 1767 and utterly sacked the city. Except for the one temple in which the invading army was staying, the Burmese burned the entire city and destroyed all of the temples. They looted the smaller golden statues and melted the gilded outer layer from the rest.  Kosoom tells me that the gold Shwedagong pagoda in Rangoon (now Yangon) in modern day Burma/Myanmar was manufactured almost entirely from the gold melted by the Burmese in Ayuthaya and taken back to Burma.  

In addition to burning and looting the city and doing unimaginable things to its conquests, the Burmese army did the unthinkable.  Despite also being Buddhist, they melted golden Buddhas and decapitated the majority of the remaining stone ones.  Kosoom contends that this act of utmost disrespect is the reason for all the sorrow and bad luck currently experienced by that most unfortunate country.  The temple ruins in Ayuthaya still house the headless Buddhas.  Oddly, despite being headless, the statues still seemed to me to retain a curious life force. They continually drew my eye (and that of my camera) even after seeing hundreds.  

decapitated Buddha statues

Ayuthaya is surrounded on all sides by water and for this reason was selected to be the then capitol.  The king believed that the moat-like rivers provided strategic protection, making the city was undefeatable (in fact, that’s what the name Ayuthaya means).  Obviously, and very unfortunately for the Thais, he was wrong. 

The water did allow me to take a boat tour of the island city, however, on the first evening I was in town.  Due to global warming, Thailand’s rainy season, which normally ends in September, has drawn on into early November.  The excessiveness of the rains was very evident as our quaint, low-ceilinged boat made its way through the swift brown current.  The waters had already invaded some of the low lying riverside houses, but apparently unsatisfied, was greedily licking its chops over others, already creeping inches onto steps and patios.  It seemed to me that this town was just a few rains away from a serious flood problem.  Sadly, more rain is in the forecast.  Yet, none of the the families seemed to be taking any visible precautions against the waters.  I saw no sandbags, save at Wat Chaiwatthanarum, one important temple ruin site.  Instead, the families of these houses waved and smiled cheerfully at our boat as we puttered past.  As children will, many were making great use of the river’s proximity to their door treating the waters like personal right-in-your-backyard swimming pools.  

kids swimming in the river

Besides getting a voyeuristic peek into the lives of the Thai families who lived on the river, the tour itself was quite interesting. More precisely, the stops were interesting.  Our guide spoke very little English so we didn’t get much in the way of explanation for the three temples we visited. The guide would only quip, “Twenty minutes here” before turning us loose to plunder with our cameras. 

Each of our three stops was on the non-island side of the river.  The first stop on the tour was Wat Phananchoeng, a very active and modern temple.  Before entering the temple, we amused ourselves watching about ten young monks attempting to retrieve a gangplank that normally connected one of the docks to the mainland but which had been submerged by the waters in all the heavy rains.  

the bright lights and "over the top" feel of this "shrine" made me feel like I was in a casino

I wandered around the temple which had at least six different rooms.  As best I could tell, one had nothing to do with another (pretty much “pick your worship spot”) although I noticed that each seemed to get more glittery as they progressed.  The last couple of rooms seemed to me downright gaudy and I immediately dubbed the temple “Buddha visits Las Vegas.” With all the noise and flashing lights, I expected to see slot machines.  The machines were missing, but the opportunity to put money in little slots was not.  

The temple was filled with Thais. All that I spoke with were from Bangkok there to make merit.  I observed them doing so by ringing bells, placing flowers in vases, lighting candles and incense, depositing money in slots and into little note holders that stuck out of a bamboo tree, even placing strands of flowers on and applying gold leaf to many of the thousands of Buddha statues around the temple.  Oh yes, and praying.  In between all the merit making, the dutiful Thais posed for photos in front of the various Buddhas.  The “shhhh, you’re in a church” approach we’re accustomed to in the West doesn’t come into play here. Thais easily and naturally intermingle merit making with merry making.  In the background of all the merit making in one room was the constant sound similar to mariachis shaking.  The source of the percussion was a group of sticks being shaken together in a container.  I’m told that these sticks somehow reveal the week’s winning lottery ticket number.  Undoubtedly, the magic number seeker had made merit in some way before consulting the sticks. 

100 Buddha statues at Wat Putthaisawan

Twenty minutes wasn’t nearly enough in this religious carnival.  Although I didn’t understand most of what I saw and heard, I was still fascinated and could easily have spent an hour or more photographing and chuckling with amusement.  But alas, that’s the pitfall of group tours.  Twenty minutes was up.  Time to move on.  

The second stop was Wat Putthaisawan.  Although it wasn’t more quiet than Wat Phananchoeng, it was less bustling and the sounds were of a different sort.  We had arrived at prayer time and a multitude of monks were cloistered away inside one of the buildings chanting.  I’m not sure how long the chants went on, but they were still audibly perfuming the air when we left twenty minutes after we arrived. 

This temple contained ruins from Ayuthaya’s golden age and the monks’ chants provided a lovely, peaceful backdrop as I took in the sights.  At least it would have if I had been leisurely making my way through the sights. The first stop had given me a reality check on how quickly twenty minutes zips by, so I didn’t linger.  Rather, I practically ran (respectfully of course)  through the vast temple grounds which contained even more camera candy than the first Wat, trying to collect as many visual memories as possible and still be back at the dock on time.  I’m not used to being pressured by time when I photograph.  Although I’m a prolific photographer and naturally shoot fairly quickly, I also like to take time to look around and contemplate what I’m shooting.  Because I didn’t want to keep others waiting, the contemplation element was missing at this venue, but such is life.

head of the large reclining Buddha

I didn’t have time to count and confirm, but I was told that a newer section of this Wat shaped in a square with an open air courtyard contained 100 Buddha statues.  I noticed that each of them had a string tied to one of Buddha’s fingers and running up to the ceiling. I’m not sure what this symbolized, but there was no one around to ask … and I didn’t have time anyway.  Such a shame to be in a hurry.  

I scrambled through the courtyard area (snap, snap, snap with my camera) to my main goal - some old ruins that I had seen from the river.  There I found a number of lovely surprises.  Remnants of an old brick wall stood in a grassy courtyard. Peeking through some windows in the wall were a very large reclining stone Buddha kept company by four smaller seated Buddhas all of which were decked out in the traditional orange yellow robes.    

Beethoven Buddha

I peeked around the wall and saw that I could walk back to the Buddha statues. I wasn’t sure if it was required here, but just in case out of respect I ditched my shoes and visited the Buddhas up close.  Most of the visitors to the temple seemed to be concentrating on the first courtyard so I had this area all to myself.  Although I was hurrying, the absence of other people did make me feel like I could be a bit more contemplative as I clicked away.  

In another part of the ruins, sitting rather unceremoniously in front of a pile of rubble and  behind what looked like a trash bucket (but was actually a sandfilled clay pot in which worshippers could place incense) was an armless, legless statue that looked more like a quadruple amputeed Beethoven than Buddha.  But he had the orange robe on so I had to show respect to the poor chap.  

Once again, twenty minutes flew by and it was time to get back to the dock.  Just as I was headed that way, I noticed a rainbow in the sky right behind one of the old stupa ruins.  I couldn’t resist.  Click, click.  Our boat puttered away to the sounds of the monks’ lovely chants.

Wat Chaiwatthanarum should have been our final stop on the tour but it was inaccessible due to a wall of sandbags placed there because of the threat of flooding.  These temple ruins are probably the most fabulous in all of Ayuthaya and are a favorite sunset destination for many Thais and tourists.  The views from the boat were lovely, but unfortunately we had to settle for just that.

Wat Chaiwatthanarum from the river as we floated by

Wat Kasatthirat became the sunset substitute.  A small, modern temple with no obvious outstanding features (other than it was the temple in closest proximity to Wat Chaiwatthanarum), it clearly paled in comparison to Wat C.  When I have my camera in hand though, I can almost always find some point of at least minor interest to enjoy and photograph.  Sure enough, a collection of orange and silver umbrellas caught my eye; more so a group of ceramic roof tiles on which things had been written (prayers perhaps) before being used.  

Sunsets don’t last long in Southeast Asia (at least not at this time of year).  We went from daylight to dark within fifteen minutes.  So the rest of the boat tour was by the light of lamps at various riverside houses.  Not being able to see much or photograph at all, I think we were all ready to wrap up the tour which ended at the night market.  My fellow tour and guesthouse-mates were a lovely young Swiss couple and delightfuly sweet and energetic Canadian family (Mom, Dad and their three extremely polite little girls).  We’d all spent most of the tour wide-eyed or noses in cameras so it wasn’t until we docked at the market that we actually introduced ourselves and began to socialize.  We all managed to find different things to eat at the market and I commenced a progressive dinner party, joining the Swiss couple first and then migrating to the family table.  

ceramic tiles with prayers written on them

We all shared food with each other so that we got to experience different tastes.  I experimented with a beautiful looking steamed “something” wrapped in a banana leaf.  I was never sure what it was exactly but the it had the texture of a hotdog so I’m assuming ground meat of some kind molded into the leaf.  Probably it was hot at some point but was “room temperature” by the time I got to it.  I finished it (“If it doesn’t kill the Thais to eat it, it won’t kill me” is my current motto.) but didn’t inflict it on anyone.  

Back at Baan Lotus Guesthouse, I got an interesting history lesson from Kosoom about Ayuthaya, Thailand, her neighbors (Thailand’s; not Kosoom’s) and her family (Kosoom’s; not Thailand’s).  When she learned that I used to be an attorney, she excitedly told me that her father had also been a lawyer as well as a judge.  The house that she now used a hotel had been in her family for many generations.  She even pointed out to me the room in which she had been born.  Her name meant Lotus after the gorgeous lotus pond behind the house.  

Baan Lotus lotus pond

Kosoom was very well traveled and spoke excellent English.  She had been all over Southeast Asia and had visited Europe and the United States on several occasions.  She currently has two brothers living in the US, both of whom are generals in the US military.   

She was a font of information regarding travel in Southeast Asia had definite opinions about Thailand’s various neighbors as well as their former colunizers.  She admired the English in part because they left great roads in Burma.  She did not trust the French, frequently describing them as “tricky,” primarily stemming from the current land dispute between Thailand and Cambodia that has the two countries almost at war.  Kosoom told me that when the French occupied Cambodia, they also wanted the Eastern half of Thailand.  “My very clever king,” she called him, “gave France four towns so that the whole of Thailand could stay in one piece.” Yet the French wanted more and drew their maps to reflect Cambodian ownership of a particular temple, Preah Vihear, and the land surrounding it.  Although the French no longer occupy Cambodia, their actions are having present day repurcussions.  Based on maps drawn by the French during the colonial era, the International Court of Justice declared the lands to be Cambodian in 1962.

“This is ridiculous!” Kosoom exclaimed. “The only door and path to enter the temple is on soil that everyone agrees belongs to Thailand.  If the international court had come here and seen this, they would have known that the temple and the land it sits on also belongs to Thailand and that the French maps were misdrawn.”  She got pretty excited and angry discussing the matter.  For a minute, I thought that this fine, well-bred lady was going to spit if either of us said “France” one more time.

Her distaste for the French was excerbated by the fact that Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam have bad roads which she blames on their former “landlord.”  Although I was delighted to let another country take the fall for once, in all fairness, I pointed out that my country probably had a bit to do with the holes in the roads as well.  Kosoom would hear none of it and ended the conversation, bringing it full circle shaking her head and saying “the French are tricky.”    I had done my duty in making my previous observation.  Fine with me to let another country take the hit for a change.

I headed to my room and settled in with my laptop.  I had enjoyed a lovely day in Ayuthaya, but, on reflection, decided I hadn’t seen enough of this charming city.  In particular, I wanted to see the temple that had been off limits due to flooding (there was an entrance on the road side of the temple).  As I drifted off to sleep, I was happy that I would be around a day longer than originally planned.

Additional photos for this and other blog entries can be found on the “Photos of Her Adventure” page of this blog.

Within minutes, a very nice young Thai couple pulled over in their pickup truck.  Through miming and my limited Thai, I conveyed the problem to them.  After trying a few different tricks with the bike, the young man also concluded I needed a mechanic.  We loaded the bike and my stuff in the bed of the truck. I was prepared to jump in the cab with them (an unusual opportunity to make new Thai friends, I thought), but they managed to convey to me that they didn’t have any straps to tie down the bike so I had to sit on the bike in the bed and just hold the brakes down to keep it from toppling out.  Basically, I was “riding” the motorbike in the bed of a pickup truck!  THAT was a little scary!  

About five minutes into our trip, my rescuers pulled over to a Buddhist shrine/spirit house on the side of the road and asked me to wait while they prayed. I took the opportunity to say a few of my own prayers … and to put on my helmet “just in case” (although I’m not sure that it would have made much difference).  

Murphy’s Law apparently works in full force all over the world because a mechanic was no where near and within a few minutes of us hitting the road again, it started to rain … hard.  The drops were pelting me as though they were small rocks, stinging my arms and face.  I was more worried about my laptop and camera gear exposed as they were in the truck bed.  I tapped on the back of the cab and shortly my bags were stored safely away and I had donned my not-so-stylish aqua blue rain poncho.  The poncho was semi-effective in shielding me from the driving rain, but we were cruising so fast that the wind whipped the oversized plastic cloak around, choking my neck and threatening to pretend it was a kite, carrying me away.  (My rescuer was probably driving slower than normal, but it still felt fast to me, exposed as I was standing on a motorbike in the truck bed).  

What a sight we must have been  to all the people we passed who stopped what they were doing and stared at the sleek new truck zipping past with a motorbike-riding foreigner in the back donning a windblown aqua cape, like some physically and stylishly challenged superhero-wanna-be.  A glance at my reflection in the rear view window of the cab sparked the realization that the color of my poncho matched my bike perfectly.  Great.  Thwarted superhero analogy complete.  It was an odd thing to notice at the time, given my need to stay constantly focused on balance, but one doesn’t get to choose the timing for most humorous moments.  Murphy was definitely laughing at me.  I was able to join in once I was safely on the ground.  

After thirty minutes of our circus act, we finally reached a mechanic.  My rescuers would not accept any money for their trouble, even though I noticed they drove away in the direction from which we had come so this stop was obviously not en route for them.  I don’t know what village they deposited me in; only that it was about 100 km from my destination of Kanchanaburi.  At the shop, we piled my bags against a pole and I went next door to buy sodas for myself and each of the mechanics (never underestimate a well-timed bribe!).  I sat and watched for 45 minutes as they took my bike apart, trying one thing after another to get it to start.  

They finally diagnosed the problem, but no one in the shop spoke a word of English.  All I could understand was 800 Baht (about $25).  Although this doesn’t sound like much by western standards (oh how I wish ANY of my trips to the mechanic with my car or trailer back in the States were $25!), by Asian standards, it was a very expensive repair. To put it into context, repairing a punctured tire cost $3; cleaning the carburetor $0.50 (probably a serious undercharge) and diagnosing and replacing a spark plug (including the cost of the new plug) $4.  I’m no stranger to motorbike repairs.  So an 800 Baht fix is probably on par with about a $500 one back home.  To justify the expense, the mechanics imported an English-speaking friend who explained that the owner either hadn’t put oil in for a while or hadn’t changed it or whatever you do with motorbikes.  Bottom line, “Oil all gone. Piston stuck.  Won’t move. Bike no start.” 

Although the bike still needed repairing, I was a bit relieved.  If lack of oil was the problem, then the owner was at fault as I had only been driving the bike for 4 days. I had explicitly told the English-speaking owner, Gail (a young, 30-something tiny Thai woman), that I planned to drive the bike over 500 km and asked if the oil was okay for the trip.  She had assured me it was no problem.  So whatever the costs, I should be reimbursed.  

The lawyer in me reared its head and I decided to call Gail before any repairs commenced to explain the situation and confirm that she would reimburse me.  I called both numbers I had for her and kept getting non-English-speaking people who would not put Gail on the phone (maybe she wasn’t there?) and would hang up on me.  So I handed the phone to the mechanic who called.  Eventually, we got Gail on the phone who agreed to reimburse me for the repair charges.  

The mechanic’s shop got very busy all of a sudden.  About five people came in with motorbike problems and my bike just sat there, like a sad exposed skeleton with all its pieces strewn on the floor waiting for some attention.  None came.  After 30 minutes of watching everyone’s bike get serviced but mine, I finally took some action.  After all, it was already 2:30 in the afternoon. The repair looked like it would take a while (it had taken them 45 minutes just to take the bike apart) and I still had to drive about 1.5 -2 hours back to Kanchanaburi and I had planned to stop at an interesting place called “The Tiger Temple” on the way. (The monks at the Tiger Temple began adopting orphaned tiger cubs in the early 90’s, and now had quite a collection of adult tigers on the grounds).  All this, AND I was trying to get back to Kanch before dark as I try not to drive my motorbike at night except in town.  

Somehow the mechanic managed to convey to me that “the company” told them to wait until someone from “the company” called back to authorize repairs (at least this is what I think they were saying.  I’ve discovered in my travels that language barriers often create interesting understandings and misunderstandings).  I had already been at the shop about 3 hours and was starting to feel a bit of time pressure so I handed them a 1000 Baht note hoping they would understand me to be saying  “I’ll pay for it. Just fix it please.”  They refused.  I guess authorization, rather than payment, was the issue at that point.  Who knows.  

So I called Gail back and explained the situation as I understood it and asked her to explain to the mechanics that she was from “the company,” that she authorized the repairs, that I would pay (with the understanding she would reimburse me) and that we needed to get this project moving as soon as possible.  No problem, she told me.  I handed the phone to the mechanic, who after talking to Gail for a while, handed the phone back to me.  

“We have a new plan,” Gail told me.  “The repairs will take a full day so I think you should take a taxi back to Kanchanaburi.  The mechanic has said he will find a pickup truck taxi for you that can also carry the bike and I will pay for it when you get here.”  “You’ll pay for the taxi?” I confirmed.  “Yes, I’ll pay for the taxi.”  

Well, Tiger Temple was definitely out of the picture now (bummer) but I had already gotten to play with tigers in Chiang Mai.  At least now, I’ll get back to Kanchanaburi and can continue with my other plans, I thought.  So we loaded the bike which was pretty much a skeletal frame and many (many many many) pieces at that point in the back of the truck taxi and took off for Kanchanburi. 

Gail runs her motorbike rental operation in front of a massage parlor (the legit kind, not the porn kind … in Thailand you have to specify) run by an old woman.  When I rented the bike, my recollection is that the two women were working together to seal the deal.  To the extent that I thought about it, I would have said the two were mother and daughter.   

When the taxi pulled up, Mom was upset when she saw the bike in pieces.  Gail was nowhere in sight.  At first, Mom and the other ladies (More family? Girls who work in the massage shop? Or maybe it’s all the same thing?) thought I had been in an accident with the bike and I had to slowly walk them through the situation so they realized a mechanic had taken the bike apart.  I showed them my hands and knees so they could see the absence of scrapes … i.e. no accident.

Finally, Gail showed up. The taxi driver was waiting to be paid.  Gail told me that her mother didn’t want to pay for the taxi because she didn’t understand the situation.  She told me that her own money was in her room which was not close.  “Would you please pay for the taxi and I will pay you back?” she asked me.  

My instincts told me not to pay.  After all, Gail already had 2000 Baht of my money that I had given her for a deposit when I rented the bike.  If I paid for the taxi (800 Baht) then she would now owe me about $100 US.  She didn’t seem to be making any attempts to explain the situation to Mom and it all felt very wrong.  

“Let’s have the taxi driver drive us to your room and you can get both his money and my money at the same time,” I suggested.  “He already told me that he won’t take us anywhere until he gets paid for this trip,”  she replied.  Now, the driver was a sweet-seeming 20 year old boy who didn’t seem the type to take such a stand, but Gail had a trustworthy looking face.  She was the only person on sight who spoke English so I didn’t have another interpretation of what the driver had said.  Still, my instincts told me not to pay so, for a while, I refused.  “Mai dai ka,” I said repeatedly (which is a very polite form of saying “I can’t” (which is the way confrontation-avoiding Thais say “I won’t”).  

With no one paying the taxi driver, we all just stood around very awkwardly for about 20 minutes.  I had decided on the drive back to Kanch that, without a motorbike to continue  my trip, I would just take a bus to Damnoen Saduak, positioning myself perfectly to go see the floating markets early the next morning.  The last bus left Kanch at 6:00 pm and it was already 4:30.  Based on the time pressure, I was the first one to cave in. “You promise you’ll pay me back?” I asked Gail stupidly. “Yes, yes. The money is in my room.  I’ll go get it as soon as the taxi is gone.”  I cringe to admit that I didn’t say “Get on your motorbike and go get it now.”  But I didn’t.  I paid the taxi driver and then waited for Gail to return with the money.  

The clock ticked away and it was 5:15 when she returned.  “I loaned the money to my friend and he’s bringing it at 6:00,” was all she said.  I’ve learned from watching others that losing your temper gets you nowhere in Thailand.  Thais won’t yell back if you show your anger. They just slow down if you’re in a hurry or ignore you altogether.  So, although I wanted to give Gail a piece of my mind (she had to have known that she didn’t have the money), I swallowed that reaction, smiled (I was raised in the South of the US after all which was excellent training for Thailand in this regard) and said, “That doesn’t work for me Gail. I would like to take a bus to Damnoen Saduak and the last one leaves at 6:00.  I need the money now. How about if we go to an ATM and you can get the money there?”   “Sure. Let’s go,” she replied, not exactly enthusiastically. 

We hopped on her motorbike and stopped at an ATM on the way to the bus station.  Really? I thought.  Was I REALLY going to get my money back?  I had very serious doubts.  Sure enough, “Not enough money.” Gail told me.  “I could only get 500 Baht.”  Again, in hindsight, I’m not sure why I didn’t insist she give me that amount then as a start.  “I’ll call my sister and she can bring the money.  She can meet us at the bus station,” was her next ploy.  

Hoping that a bus that was about to leave would provide a little extra pressure, I agreed.  We sat and waited by the bus until 5:55 with Gail on the phone every 30 seconds and looking around frantically.  Finally, she told me “My sister misunderstood and is in her room looking for the money.  Wait here and I’ll go get it. I’ll be back in 2 minutes.”  “Whatever” was my attitude at this point.  Actually, that was my attitude on the surface.  Seething anger that this woman was such a con-artist was my attitude underneath the smiling veneer I had learned from the Thais (and my fellow Southerners).  

At 6:15, the bus pulled away … and Gail had obviously stranded me at the bus station as she never reappeared.  Nor did she answer her phone any of the 7 times I tried to call her.  I caught a taxi back to Gail’s shop.  She was very surprised to see me get out, clearly thinking I would get on the bus without my money.  While waiting for Gail earlier in the day, I had befriended some girls who worked in the travel agency next door so I stashed my bags there and recruited one of them to interpret for me.  Although Gail spoke excellent English, her mother and the other women standing around outside the shop did not.  I was not above tarnishing Gail’s reputation at this point to get my money.  

So I told my story which was translated by the sympathetic travel agent.  In addition to outlining all the ways and times Gail had lied to me, I also tallied Gail’s expense list, adding to it some small items I had previously been willing to overlook (the money I paid the mechanic for his time and diagnosis, extra days on my bike contract that I had paid for but couldn’t use because the bike was broken and the taxi fee for returning to Gail’s once she stranded me).  At this point, I was furious (but managed to suppress it) and I was determined to squeeze every baht from this deceitful woman.  All told, she owed me 3300 Baht.  Although everyone else seemed to be sympathetic and Gail didn’t deny that she owed me any of what I outlined, she was also not affected by the pressure I was applying.  Not surprisingly, her reputation was already so low that this little bit didn’t matter at all.  “My friend will come at 9:00 with the money,” she said nonchalantly.  

That was the last straw.  “Gail, I am smiling, but I am not happy. In fact, I am very angry.  You have lied to me, left me at the bus station and now you are trying to steal from me.  I am smiling, but I am also calling the tourist police.”  Finally, some action.  But not from Gail.  Everything I said had been translated by the travel agent and Mom jumped to her feet.      

It turned out, according to the travel agent, Gail’s motorbike rental business wasn’t legit (what a surprise!), but because she operates it in front of/out of Mom’s shop, Mom would get in huge trouble and have her legitimate business shut down for allowing Gail’s illegitimate activities.  They told me that Gail is basically a liar who uses the family and doesn’t care what happens to them. You know the kind.  And “Mom” is actually “Mom-in-law.”  She despises Gail, but loves her son who’s married to Gail.  So I had managed to wander into a little Thai soap opera.

At that point, Gail had just wandered off to someplace.  She didn’t seem to care whether or not I called the police. Mom, on the other hand, was scrambling hysterically. She offered me 2000 baht of her own money as a settlement payment if I would just not call the police.  When I saw how panicked the old woman was, I made up my mind that I would not involve the authorities.  She seemed to be a decent woman who was caught up in a bad, co-dependant family entanglement and I felt sorry for her.  Who of us hasn’t known something similar?  But it irked me that Gail would walk away not paying a penny (or whatever the Thai version of a penny is).  So I countered by saying I would accept Mom’s 2000 baht if I could also have the 500 baht I saw Gail get out of the ATM only an hour earlier.  It was more about Gail contributing something than about the extra money itself although I also wanted to be swindled out of as little as possible.  

“She’s already spent the money on food,” someone said.  “FOOD?!” I exclaimed!  “What in the world could she have possibly bought for 500 baht?! Five hundred baht will feed me for more than five days here!  And she only took it out of the ATM an hour ago.  Get her down here.  She should be part of this.”  Well, it just wasn’t going to happen.  Whether Gail had already spent the money (doubtful) or Mom was just protecting her or had no control over her (likely), I’ll never know.  Mom borrowed an extra 500 baht from the travel agent and I agreed to accept 2500 in lieu of 3300.  Mom was clearly very upset over the ordeal (as was I) and expressed her appreciation for my willingness to work with her and her apologies that I had had such trouble.

Now that I was stuck in town for an extra night, I went to find a hotel while the travel agency gals watched my bags.  When I came back from booking a room, I found Mom sobbing in travel agency office, lamenting to the travel agents that Gail was such trouble.  Mom was upset because she had worked so hard for all that money. (At least that’s what I gathered between what I could understand and what the travel agent told me. Mom spoke very very little English.)  I gave the old woman a hug and she squeezed my hand … and broke my heart.  At that moment I decided that the money, although important to me, meant much much more to this old woman.  

I got out one of the 1000 Baht notes she had given to me earlier and handed it back to her.  She refused it, so I folded it and pressed it into her hand. She didn’t resist this time, but cried even harder and hugged me close.  After a minute, she wiped her tears away, stood up and took my hands.  “Foot massage,” she announced. “No charge. I give,” and she lead me by the hand back to her shop.   

At first, I found it hard to relax and enjoy the foot massage which is normally my favorite kind of massage.  My mind was racing trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.  Were Mom’s tears a scam? Would she really have been shut down or was she just protecting Gail from police involvement?  Why didn’t I think to insist that Gail give me the 500 Baht from the ATM? How could I have handled this entire situation differently so that I got all my money back but from Gail instead of Mom?  

Finally, I gave up.  I thought of my own mother who’s always so sensitive and compassionate toward others.  Although she and Dad would always insist that my brother and I take responsibility for our own actions, they have thankfully never been faced with needing to shield us from the police, although they’ve bailed us both out of sticky financial situations that we were dumb enough to get ourselves into when we were younger.  So I chose to look at the situation from that point and was glad I gave Mom the money.  I continued to think about my Mom as I relaxed into the foot massage (also her favorite kind of massage) and willed the yummy sensations to her feet in Kentucky.  So Mom, if your feet were feeling really good yesterday morning, that was a foot massage courtesy of me and “Mom” all the way from Thailand.  

As I let myself become completely relaxed, I realized that “Mom” and I had each shared with each other what we were able in order to ease our stresses caused by Gail’s bad character.  Although I wouldn’t knowingly walk into the same situation again, some good (and good lessons) came out of it.

———

If you’re traveling in Kanchanaburi and want to get a foot massage from Mom, have a taxi take you to Sugar Cane Guesthouse.  The guesthouse is tucked away down a little alley (and I would give it a 6 out of 10. Nice people. Good price. Needs some refurbishing.) and Mom’s shop (Fah Thai massage) is on the main street right on the corner at the alley entranceway.  The old woman there is … “Mom” … duh (I never got her real name, nor did she get mine).  

Avoid like the plague, however, renting one of the motorbikes out front though and spread the word.  Maybe this way Gail’s business will be adversely affected, without hurting Mom’s.  And if you see a skinny pretty looking girl named Gail, you don’t need to stick out your tongue at her for me or tell her “Shame, shame.”  Undoubtedly, given her bad character, she will have done something recently to warrant it so you can if you want to.  It’s enough for me to know that in her next life she’ll come back as a cockroach.

morning fisherman

When I peeked out my front door the next morning, mist was rising off the lake, partly shrouding a fisherman leaning out of his boat to collect the morning’s catch.  In the thirty minutes I took to shower and dress, the mist was gone, leaving the fisherman fully exposed to my voyeuristic lens.  I grabbed my camera and headed up the road, anxious to start my boat tour of the moody looking waters.  

Lek, my boatman, lead me to a long, narrow, wooden boat with a small engine in back.  Three well-worn woven mats were lying in the middle of the boat, inviting me to settle in and take a ride.  I eagerly accepted the invitation.

Kheuan Khao Lake was formed when three converging rivers were dammed.  In the process, an old Mon village that resided at the confluence of those rivers was flooded and submerged by the lake, a sort of mystical Mon Atlantis.  (The Mon are an ancient ethnic group in Southeast Asia whose territories in years past covered portions of Burma and Thailand.) I had heard that parts of an old temple peeked out of the lake and my imagination ran wild with the imagery I anticipated seeing and capturing with my camera.  

Thailand's longest wooden bridge

First, Lek and I headed for the long wooden bridge that Katrina and I had walked over the previous evening and then we motored out to find the underwater temple remains.   As we motored along the perimeter of the lake, I got a glimpse of families yawning and starting their day: women scrubbed clothes, little boys brushed their teeth.  All were perched at the water’s edge from their floating houses; the lake was deeply interwoven into their lives.  An enormous and elaborate golden chedi gleamed in the background.

The sky was dark and dramatic that morning.  The threat of rain was imminent.  Yet life continued.  Fishermen fished.  A grandfather and grandson made a beautiful team, each seated at extreme ends of a long narrow boat, rowing past rolling green hills dotted with what appeared to be tea plants.  The grandfather noticed me watching them and stopped rowing for an instant to wave and smile. 

As we traveled into deeper water, we passed a strange looking contraption made entirely of wood and ropes.  The floating bamboo platform supported log poles arranged so erratically to my eye that it could have been an abstract art installation.  To the contrary, Lek said it was used to catch fish. 

the "spirit house" looking pagoda protruding from the lake

I was surprised when we reached the underwater temple, which looked nothing like I had anticipated.  What appeared to be a white spirit house with a bright, golden pagoda was lifted out of the water by stone pillars and the wooden framework of something resembling a portico.  Had this once been the entry point to the temple compound?  About one hundred feet from the “spirit house” structure, crumbling stone remains of the temple walls emerged approximately ten feet high from the watery grave above the rest of the temple.  The roof had long since either decayed or been washed away.  The waters were dark on this particular day so my view of the temple consisted exclusively of the stone that managed to escape the lake.  As we puttered around to what had obviously been the front of the temple, the rounded top of a doorway emerged and beside it, a mosaic stone relief that resembled a pagoda. 

Something prompted me to leave my camera gear in the boat, dive into the water and through the door to explore the temple interior and parts of the temple that were currently out my sight.  Maybe it was the gloomy day that cast a foreboding shadow on the idea of such a bold move.  Maybe it was a remnant of my former fear of water that was born after a near drowning experience five years earlier.  Maybe it was the look of fear on Lek’s face when I bounced the idea off of him in charade format.  For whatever reason, I suppressed the instinct and remained in the boat, my imagination still churning with the imagery of crumbling stone Buddhas receiving kisses from multitudes of fish and lake creatures.     

Before heading back to the dock, Lek showed me some limestone cliffs that had been whittled away into beautiful formations by the water over the years.  One cave that had formed was now used as a natural temple. A bamboo ladder lead up to it allowing people to climb up, leave offerings for Buddha and pray.  In this area, there was a fisherman quietly pulling up his nets and stashing a fish or two in his boat.  I love watching the fisherman work.  At some point before my trip is over, perhaps I can convince one to take me with him one morning to either help or at least watch and photograph.  

successful fisherman

After Lek and I docked, I decided to go explore some of the local wats.  I was interested in trying to chat with the monks and learn a little bit more about Buddhism as it is practiced in Thailand. The first temple I went to seemed to be brand new and still under construction.  The door was blocked with plywood. Decorative concrete embellishments to be added to elaborate stone structures were set out to dry on the side of the temple. 

The monks at this particular temple, as in many others, varied in age from about fifteen to seventy.  I saw lots of them moving around in one area of the temple compound so I headed over to say hello. Several of the young monks were brushing their teeth and another seemed to be putting on his robes so I figured this was their living area.  I walked away so I wouldn’t accidentally catch one of them dressing and embarrass us both. 

Adjacent to the “living area,” an older monk seemed to be holding a small ceremony with a woman and her baby.  I waited for them to finish and approached to say hello.  The old monk immediately started indicating that his knees hurt (arthritis perhaps?) and then abruptly turned his back and walked away.  So I hopped on my motorbike and headed over to the other temple that had caused my jaw to drop when I arrived in town the previous day … the one with the very large reclining Buddha.  

man brushing dust from newly cemented pagoda before painting it

I stopped first to admire the nine larger than life (literally) Buddhas seated across the street.  Next to the gravel lot in front of those Buddhas, three new stupas were under construction in various stages, each of them surrounded with bamboo scaffolding.  One stupa received the attention of three workers who were covering the brick structure with concrete, smoothing the concrete and painting it.  The man painting at the top worked in his bare feet which seemed to mold to the concrete that had already been placed and dried.  The workers were friendly and we exchanged hellos and smiles. 

I walked across the street to the temple/monastery itself and found several older monks sitting on benches watching one monk weave some sort of basket onto a bamboo pole.    At first, they were shy but they warmed up after I spoke to the in the limited Thai that I know and invited me to sit with them.  Some younger monks joined us then too and a few began practicing their English with me.  

One asked me if I had seen the monkey and motioned for me to follow him.  Sure enough, I had not misunderstood.  Near the monks’ quarters were two monkeys, a baby and an adult.  Neither my Thai nor their English was good enough for me to understand how they happened to have acquired the monkeys.  Both monkeys wore belts around their wastes onto which a chain about fifteen feet long was clipped.  The baby monkey immediately sprang into action and climbed my leg and then my hair.  He sat on my head and tried to take my glasses off my face.  The monks clearly spent a lot of time playing with this little guy but he still had energy to spare.  He was cute but a handful.  

one of the monks with the baby monkey

The adult monkey didn’t take to me so much.  He was lying on his back enjoying a tummy rub from one of the monks when he spotted me.  His peaceful demeanor was gone in a flash as he jumped up, growled and started to charge me.  I stepped back beyond the length of his chain.  Recalling the monkey bite I sustained in Bali, I was thankful when his chain grew taut and forced a distance between us.  

Many of the monks had gathered around now.  Most kept a little distance from me and smiled shyly, but seemed to watch everything I did.  One of the young monks brought me a puppy to hold and play with.  Another had me write my name and address in one of his books.  He introduced himself to me as Somsit and handed me an envelope that he had pre-addressed to himself, care of the monastery.  He didn’t give me any instructions about what he wanted me to mail to him so I told him I would send copies of the photos I had taken at the monastery that day.  He seemed pleased and offered to give me a tour of the temple and monastery.  

Before we set off on our tour, Somsit unclipped the baby monkey from his chain.  “Don’t worry. He won’t run away. He’ll take the tour with us,” he told me.  Sure enough, the baby monkey stayed with us for most of the tour.  He would sometimes lag behind, distracted with a bug or a piece of string and sometimes he would run ahead and jump up and down on a railing as if to say, “Hurry up!”  So lead by a monk and a monkey, I got a personal tour of Wat Somoet.  Throughout our tour, several monks invited me to take their photos.  That was certainly new … and welcome!  

an older monk posing for his first portrait in twenty years

Seeing that they didn’t mind having their photograph taken, I asked an older monk who was lounging on raised platform whether I could take his picture.  He smiled and stepped into his room.  I took that to mean that he was shy and would rather not, but he re-emerged a minute later with a bright orange robe that he was wrapping around his upper-body.   He didn’t mind having his photo made. He had merely wanted to appear more modest in his portrait. 

He stood very formally next to the platform he had been lounging on just minutes before and posed with a very solemn look.  Another older monk walked up and the first monk grabbed him by the elbow and walked him over to a table where they both posed for me.  To look at the expression on the first monk’s face in the photos, you would think he was an unwilling participant.  He looks so serious, almost slightly scowling.  I thought it a very humorous contrast to know that he not only was willing, but initiated the second portrait with the two monks.  I never captured the first candid composition that had caught my eye when he was lounging on the platform.  In a way though, these portraits were just as good if not better because of our interaction.  

The older monk smiled when I showed him his portaits on my digital camera.  Somsit translated for me that it had been twenty years since this monk had had his photograph made.  It seemed to bring back pleasant memories for him.  

Somsit with the adult monkey

After thanking the monks for their hospitality, especially Somsit, I said goodbye and headed back to my hotel for a bite to eat.  On the way, I passed a group of brightly dressed Muslim children who were happy to pose for a photograph.  Back at the Burmese Inn while enjoying some delicious curry, I noticed some fabulous wooden puppets.  The owner told me they had been made in Burma and advised me to look at the Mon market held every day beneath the enormous gold chedi.  I was smitten with the puppets and was now on a mission to have some of my own.  

The next morning, before heading to the Mon market, I made a quick road trip on my motorbike up to Three Pagodas Pass located right on the border between Thailand and Burma/Myanmar.  On the way, I got a chuckle out of some cattle that walking alongside the road.  One of the cows had picked up a piece of blue cardboard and was carrying it in its mouth; not chewing or trying to eat it, just carrying it.  The other cows were trying to take it away but the cow in possession was defending its treasure.  Weird … and very funny.  

I arrived in Three Pagodas Pass and was surprised to see how small and understated everything there was, including the three pagodas for which the town was named.  Contrary to the information in my guidebook, the immigration officer advised me that the Burmese border was closed and that foreigners were not permitted to cross.  About fifty feet beyond the immigration office were some red and white barricades that stood only about three to four feet high.  No one seemed to stand guard around them.  Beyond the barricades, motorbike and car traffic passed within feet on Burmese soil.  As I was watching, three men simply walked around the back of a building that sat on the border, crossing without incident or notice from the Burmese side of the border into Thailand.  Interesting. 

the unintimidating albeit "closed" border crossing between Thailand and Burma/Myanmar

I walked closer to the barricades and noticed a sign that said “1. ALL FOREIGNERS  2.  WELCOME TO MYANMAR 3. NO VIDEO CAMERAS ARE ALLOWED.”  Of course, I took a photo.  Convinced I would somehow get across the border, I decided to put my rebellious thoughts on the back burner for the moment and did some souvenir shopping.    

I found a number of beautiful sculptures made from sandalwood amid the tacky plastic chotchkies that outnumbered them.  In the process of doing my shopping, I found my way to cross the border.

I noticed that many of the vendors’ stalls opened at the back as well as the front.  Although there were metal gates in the back, these gates looked easy to jump. Immediately on the other side was Burmese soil.  I began talking to one of the vendors who had such a gate in the back of his stall.  As we talked about the border situation, a Thai tourist from Bangkok named Darwed happened up and was also interested in crossing the border.  The vendor told us that Thai people were permitted to go across but foreigners were not.  He himself lived in Burma, but crossed the border each day to work in his souvenir stand.  He seemed to like my rebellious streak and suggested that Darwed and I pose by the gate in the back of his stall while he hopped the fence with my camera and took our picture from Burmese soil.  We happily agreed.  

yours truly on Burmese soil ... for 30 seconds

After he took our photo, he told Darwed, “You know, you can cross if you want to because you’re Thai.”  Darwed was a little nervous and reluctant, but finally did so and I took his picture with Burma as his backdrop.  The vendor then looked to the left and the right and told me, “If you hurry, you can cross too just long enough to have your picture taken.”  I didn’t need a second invitation.  I jumped the gate, had my picture made and crossed back.  Although I don’t have a visa stamp in my passport, I do have a photo to prove that I went to Burma/ Myanmar … at least for 30 seconds.

Darwed and I both thanked the vendor and hopped on our motorbikes back to Sangkhlaburi.  I had to hurry to check out of my hotel.  Darwed was obviously in a bigger hurry because he roared past me and waved.  I passed him when I got the security checkpoint where his bike was being searched.  I was waved through.  “Good luck” I called to him.

Back in Sangkhlaburi, I packed my bags and stored them with the hotel clerk while I ventured to the Mon market in search of the wooden Burmese puppets.  I looked for thirty minutes before I spotted them.  I picked out three that I liked and braced myself for the price.  I had seen some slightly larger the week before at a market in Bangkok where the seller was asking 3000 baht each (about $100). My jaw hit the floor when this vendor offered to sell me all three puppets for 1000 baht total.  “Wrap them up,” was all I said.  I was thrilled with my bargain.  

rustic Burmese puppet

While my puppets were being wrapped, I explored Chedi Luang Phaw Uttama, the temple connected with the golden chedi that loomed over the Sangkhlaburi landscape.  I marveled at the architecture and photographed the variety of sculptures of oversized Buddhas in the temple parking lot.  

Thirty minutes later, I was on the road waving goodbye to Sangkhlaburi and headed back to Thong Pha Phum.  Between the friendly people, interesting history, shared border and culture with Burma and stunning landscape, Sangkhlaburi is the kind of town I could easily live in for a year or so.  It was with great regret that I left after only two and a half days, but I was meeting a friend in Bangkok and had a few more stops to make on the way so it was time to move on.  The road was calling my name.

Additional photos for this and other blog entries can be found on the “Photos of Her Adventure” page of this blog.

Kanchanaburi Province (and beyond) motorbike trip plan

Kanchanburi province in Thailand lies west of Bangkok and butts up against the Burmese border. The province (similar to a state) gets few tourists compared with the rest of the country, but reputedly had beautiful mountains, rivers and waterfalls and, the further west one travels, a “wild west” kind of feel. So I rented a motorbike (what else?!) to explore. A quick note of gratitude is in order to Couchsurfer Melly-Mel who gave me the idea to take this fabulous trip. Thanks Mel!

The city of Kanchanburi (not to be confused with the province of the same name) is known worldwide for its famous Kwai River and even more famous bridge that crosses it. The town was the hellish home for a number of Allied POWs and conscripted Southeast Asians during World War II. From this base, thousands of prisoners built the railroad known as the Death Railway linking Thailand to Burma/Myanmar to provide an alternate supply route for the Japanese. More than 100,000 of those prisoners died because of the cruel, brutal treatment they received at the hands of their captors. A small number of those are buried at the Allied War Cemetary also located in Kanchanburi.

The day I arrived in the town of Kanchanburi (Kanch for short), it was raining so I didn’t get to see much of anything. I had given a temporary home to a woman I met on the bus who’s wallet turned up missing (she thought she left it at her hotel back in Bangkok). She was quite sweet … but snored so I didn’t get much rest that night. The next morning, after seeing her to the bus station, I caught a quick nap so I wouldn’t snooze on my motorbike. When I woke up, I was more in the mood to get moving than to do much museum-type sightseeing so, other than stopping to take photos of the infamous Bridge over the River Kwai, I postponed the War Memorial sightseeing for my return to Kanch the next week and took off for Thong Pha Phum.

TPP is about 150 km from Kanch with many opportunities between the two to pull off to see waterfalls, hotsprings and tigers. Well, actually, there’s only one opportunity to see tigers. In the early 1990’s, monks at Wat Luang Ta Bua Yanna Sampanno (aka Tiger Temple) began taking in tiger cubs orphaned by poachers who killed their mothers. Word spread about the monk’s unusual collection and now they have many adult tigers (babies do grow up!) roaming the property … supervised, of course.

THE Bridge over the River Kwai

I had enjoyed playing with the tigers in Chiang Mai last month and was curious to visit the Tiger Temple. I remembered the severe allergies I had to those tigers, however, and decided it was best to visit on my way back as the Tiger Temple is just on the outskirts of Kanch. Better to have a sneezing fit 30 minutes from my hotel rather than 2.5 hours away was my way of thinking.

I did plan to stop at some of the waterfalls though but the rain must have followed me from Kanch. It caught up with me about an hour into my drive and stayed with me for a full hour as well. My growling stomach made me finally call “Uncle” and I pulled over to an open-air roadside restaurant. The owner hospitably let me pull my bike under the covered area by the tables so that I didn’t have to unload all my gear which had previously been covered by my oversized, stylishly-challenged rain poncho.

My jeans and tennis shoes were completely soaked. I was famished. I was cold and feeling pretty miserable. A family already seated at one of the two tables took pity and invited me to join them. I waited and waited but no menus were brought. The owner, since inviting me to keep my bike dry, had disappeared. “Gin?” I asked. I forget if that means food or eat, but my tablemates got the point. They shouted something (to the invisible restaurant owner?) and held up their hands, signaling me to be patient.

I tried to be patient, but I had skipped breakfast that morning and needed something in my cold, wet tummy at that moment. As many Thai restaurants do, this one also had snacks in handy packages so I grabbed a few and passed them around the table. That took the edge off while we waited for who knew what. Well, to be accurate, my dining companions knew what we were waiting for but because of the language barrier, I had no idea.  It was pouring out and I wasn’t going anywhere anyway.

Four kids were sitting at the next table watching what appeared to be a knockoff version of “Little Mermaid” in Thai. Or maybe it was a sequel. In this version, it seemed that instead of being a mermaid who wanted to be human, Ariel was a human wanting to be a mermaid. A skinny version of the underwater octupus witch was busy trying to capture her soul. It was amusing. Since none of us adults could communicate with each other beyond smiling and sharing some snacks, we were engrossed in the shoddy cartoon as much as the kids were.

Finally, out of the blue, the restaurant owner appeared again with two bowls of hot steaming broth-based soup which she handed to the couple sharing my table. The woman kindly passed hers to me. I guess this soup was all that was on the menu for the day as the owner immediately returned with another bowl for the woman. The kids all got the same thing too. Fine with me. Hot soup is just what I would have ordered anyway.

They all watched in eager anticipation as I took my first bite, concerned it would be too spicy for me and ready to fall out of their seats laughing if indeed that was the case. But I love spicy food. So far, nothing I’ve eaten in Thailand has been too spicy for me, which has surprised and delighted me. So the soup was fabulous. Although my feet and legs were still cold and wet (why hadn’t I worn my quick dry clothes that day?) I was warm and toasty inside. Before Little Mermaid’s Thai sister was over, the rain stopped. The family and I all took that opportunity to leave. We hadn’t shared conversation, but we had shared food, shelter in a storm and bad cartoons so hugs were exchanged before we each motored on in opposite directions.

I passed a very tempting hot springs 30 km before Thong Pha Phum but knew I would only want to fall asleep after getting out. It was safer to drive on and spend the money for a hotel with a hot shower in town. I had a good imagination. A hot enough shower could easily be a hot spring.

view of the mountains driving into Thong Pha Phum

Between Kanch and TPP, the road was not curvy and mountainous as I had anticipated. It was straight and flat. The scenery was nice but nothing out of the ordinary either. All that changed when I arrived in TPP. TPP is a tiny town nestled in among some limestone mountains with jagged edges on top. There’s a lovely brown river (you’d have to see it to believe it) that flows through town, a golden pagoda sits on top of the mountain and the whole thing is just gorgeous.

Given my late start and the rain delay, I didn’t pull into TPP until 4pm. Although late October in Thailand generally feels more like August back home with its heat and humidity, the overcast skies and my still freezing feet reminded me of cold fall days when I just want to crawl under the covers. So that’s what I did. I found a hotel with hot water and tried to pretend I was in a hot spring while I showered. Unfortunately, the water didn’t get quite hot enough and the pressure left much to be desired so I toweled off, climbed into some clean dry clothes and burrowed under the covers in my bed. I napped a bit and journaled a bit until my stomach advised me it was time to stop being a hermit.

I headed for the night market anxious to meet some people and fill my tummy. I was successful in the latter but not the former. TPP doesn’t get many non-Thai tourists. One hotel owner was apparently so stunned to see me that she couldn’t comprehend that I wanted a room. I literally had to walk to a bungalow, point at myself, mime sleeping and point at the bungalow door before she caught on and opened the door for me to see. Alas, cold water. Mai pen rai.

border crossings and waterfalls ... all enroute to TPP

The folks of TPP, who I’m sure are lovely people, were no less stunned to see me. I was able to purchase food, but no one seemed to want to have anything to do with me otherwise. They didn’t even stare as often happens in less touristy places. They just looked away and ignored me. I didn’t get my feelings hurt, but neither did I have the energy that evening to try to break through this invisible barrier so I took my chicken back to my room and ate it there. Don’t feel bad for me! In the privacy of my room, I was able to lick my fingers and gnaw on the bone.  Yummy!

The next day, I was looking for internet access before heading out of town. It had been several days since I had checked in and I like to keep my family informed of my whereabouts and let them know I’m safe. The last they’d heard from me was that I was traveling by motorbike toward Burma in an area where few tourists go. Definitely needed to check in.

this view was about 1000 times more beautiful than I've managed to capture

I stopped at the Department of Tourism to ask about internet access. Here’s where the shiny happy people of TPP lived! They told me that the only internet cafe in town had closed, but that I was welcome to use their office computer to send email. When they discovered I had a laptop, they fixed me up with comfy space in their lobby and helped me tap into their WiFi. I had been there fifteen minutes happily downloading and reading the 600+ emails that had accumulated since I was last online when one of the employees turned on the fan behind me to make me more comfortable. Another fifteen minutes passed and a woman brought me a glass of ice water. Holy cow! These people were fabulous! They wanted to practice their English with me so between sending and receiving emails, I chatted with several of them. By the time I left, I felt I had a town full of friends. Since there was only one main road to the Burmese border and back, I knew I would have to pass through TPP again and looked forward to it.

The drive and views between TPP and Sangkhlaburi were stunning. Just outside of Sang, I stopped at a  “viewpoint overlook.” I accidentally walked up on a man using the overlook as a reststop so the view didn’t start out so great. After he was gone, however, the views took my breath away. They were nothing short of epic. There was a massive lake with many many bright green islands spread throughout. Mountains upon layers of mountains served as a steadily fading backdrop. For some reason, The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings came to mind. I still can’t explain why because they didn’t show this kind of scenery there. I just keep coming back to the word epic. It’s a strange word to use to describe landscape and yet that’s what seems to fit. I did my best to photograph it and I’ll share that with you, but will also tell you up front that I utterly failed to capture the gloriousness of what I saw.

the valley just outside of Sangkhlaburi

The eye candy just kept getting better and better as I got closer to Sang. Further down the road on the same massive lake were floating villages. Further beyond that I came to the edge of the lake where it seemed to turn to rivers or smaller lakes running through a lush green valley that reminded me of photos I’d seen of Ireland. It was certainly green enough to be the home of leprechauns. I was moved to say “Wow!” out loud more than ten times during that drive. I was so glad I was on a motorbike and could stop and enjoy it all at my own pace. 

All of this was merely a prelude to the giant photo opp that was Sangkhlaburi. As I pulled into town, I was greeted by a reclining Buddha that was at least one hundred feet long. Across the road from him were nine more very large seated Buddhas with different hand positions. The temple next to the reclining Buddha was the most beautiful I’ve seen to date in Thailand. The style was different than others I’d seen. Perhaps this is the Burmese influence being so close to the border, I thought.

Buddhist cemetery

Things like this are like a magnet for me and my camera. I easily get lost in them for hours. I forcibly tore myself away to go look for a hotel before it got dark. The Burmese Inn had reasonably priced bungalows right on the lake with a pretty view of bridge spanning the water. Sold. After dumping my bags at the Burmese Inn, I motored off to explore. I found another temple with beautiful structures I mistook for spirit houses and later learned they are a kind of Buddhist headstone holding the ashes of a deceased person. I had wandered into a Buddhist cemetery!

 While I was photographing the cemetery, a western woman walked past on the road and we waved hello to each other. On my way back down the hill, I came upon her and offered her a ride. Her name was Katrina and she was from Cleveland, Ohio. She was a nurse volunteering her time in the area for ten weeks. We immediately clicked.

We drove to the bridge viewable from my lakeside bungalow. From there, I could see more floating villages and also the longest wooden bridge in Thailand. I was inclined to stop and photograph, but was enjoying Katrina’s company so I kept my camera in my bag. That bridge isn’t going anywhere, I thought. After crossing the first bridge, we headed onto the second, longer wooden one. It was lovely in a quaint rustic way, but was also a twisted ankle waiting to happen. Each time I was tempted to look at the sights around me or at Katrina as we talked, I would be reminded by an ill-spaced board that my eyes needed to be fixed downward.

front view of the stunning temple

When we arrived on the other side of the bridge, men with solid color vests kept asking us “motorbike?” I thought they were offering to rent us a bike and started to decline since I already had one. Katrina knew better. She told me that these guys were moto-taxi drivers and were offering to take us to the top of the hill to see a temple. “We should do it,” she encouraged. “Sure! Let’s go!” I was happy to have some company after my last few days of solo travel.

We each hopped on the back of a motorbike and zipped off. The drivers took us to a different temple than the one Katrina had been expecting so it was a nice surprise for her too. The temple compound was huge and fantastic. Again, I noticed a different architectural style than I’d seen elsewhere in Thailand. We both snapped away with our cameras comparing notes about what we’d seen as we did.

At some point we wandered in different directions and I found a monk with a dozen or so temple boys. I chatted with the monk for a bit and then the boys asked me to take their photo. Sangkhlaburi, I love you! Their laughter caught Katrina’s attention who tickled them by also taking their photo.

energetic temple boys

The temple complex was so big there were actually three different temples in it. We made our way into the second temple which was still open. One man was praying so we looked around quietly. I was interested to find the tusk of a wooly mammoth on display. First, you just don’t see one of those every day. Secondly, why had they displayed it in a temple? Some of things I find in Buddhist temples amaze me … like large, plastic-wrapped Hello Kitty dolls sitting right up on the alter/shrine with Buddha. Strange. Comical.

Apparently the man praying was the temple custodian and was ready to retire for the evening so he chased us out and closed the doors. No problem. We found our way to the third temple where we both got tickled at a monk talking on his cell phone. After making the temple rounds for who knows how long, we were ready to head home but discovered our taxis were apparently only one-way as the guys had gone. On the walk back, we saw a number of taxis driving the many monks back to the monastery. We flagged one down as he came back down the hill and asked if he would take us to the bridge. He spoke no English, but motioned for us to climb aboard. It was the first time I’d seen a motorbike with a makeshift sidecar other than ones used by food vendors. Katrina and I hopped aboard.

I didn’t know my way around as I’d just arrived. Katrina felt that the taxi was heading in the wrong direction and kept trying to redirect him. We weren’t sure whether he understood that we wanted to go back to the bridge and at one point almost got off to find our way on our own rather than try to direct in a language that we didn’t speak or one that the driver didn’t understand. Out of nowhere, the bridge appeared. We cheered happily which pleased the driver. When we asked how much we owed him for the lift, he refused payment. Turns out, he wasn’t a taxi driver afterall; just a nice man who had said yes when two travelers had flagged him down and asked for a ride. Sangkhlaburi, you’re my kind of place!

Katrina and the "non taxi driver"

Katrina was about to finish up her 10 week stint shortly and was on the hunt for gifts to take back home. While she shopped, I chatted with one of the souvenir vendors who was closing up shop. I helped her put her things away and she gave me a cute little plastic ring. Good feelings were rolling all around.

I invited Katrina to join me for dinner and she in turn invited me to join her and her friend Kathy cook dinner at the team office where Kathy stayed. Girls’ night in! Excellent! Kathy pretty much had all the food cooked by the time we got there. Karma was definitely working in my favor. I had been craving roasted chicken (one of the flavors I miss from home) and that’s exactly what she was serving.

We made fruit shakes for dessert and then Katrina broke out some sweets from home. Her family had recently sent her a care package with flavors from the States that she had been missing. Apparently we think alike because she had a box of unopened Nutty Bars. That generous, generous woman sent me home that night with THREE of them, among other things (they didn’t make it through lunch the next day) justifying her gift by telling me that she would be enjoying those tastes a lot sooner than I would. What a gal!

We had a fun visit and I looked forward to my next day in Sangkhlaburi.

Additional photos for this and other blog entries can be found on the “Photos of Her Adventure” page of this blog.

quintessential Pai

Pai was a particularly magical place and I thoroughly enjoyed the two weeks I spent there. It’s such a small friendly town that after only staying two weeks, I felt like I had lived there for years. Everywhere I went, I saw someone I knew, both locals and fellow travelers alike. Pai and the people I met during my stay there awakened Thailand for me. Before I left town, Daniela, my German traveling companion, and I decided to launch some “wish lanterns” as I had seen people doing on the night I arrived in Pai.

As I understand it, wish lanterns originated in China, but are widely used in the northern parts of Thailand which are strongly influenced by the Chinese. The lantern is made of tissue paper which is wrapped around the sides and top of a wire frame. A flammable wax circle is attached to the bottom of the frame. When the wax is lit, it basically works like a hot air balloon capturing the hot air inside the lantern causing it to fly up, up and away. When it does, the fire inside creates a warm, mystical orange glow. People who use the lanterns believe that you can make a wish on them and send your wish to heaven or, alternately, you can put all your bad luck on them and send it far away from you.  To see video of Daniela and I launch our wish lanterns along with our friend Nook’s help, click here.

On the whole, I’ve been feeling pretty lucky lately (it’s not every girl who gets to take seven months to travel around Southeast Asia) so I made a wish on my lantern. It was enchanting to watch it fill with hot air and float away, high into the sky.

Soi One Grand Opening

My last night in Pai before heading to the elephant camp, I attended a party. A new boutique of shops was holding their Grand Opening two doors down from The Good Life (home of campucha!). Daniela had lent her graphic design expertise and designed the invitations which were distributed all over town. Not surprisingly, the hosts presented guests with delicious food, great music and exceptionally stylish ambiance. When the power went out (which happens frequently in Pai) the party continued by candlelight. So many of my favorite people that I had met in Pai were there, including a few of the guys from my Muay Thai boxing class who surprised me and showed up.

I thought it was especially fitting as I walked home that night (I had turned in my motorbike earlier in the afternoon) that a woman who had given me a massage a few days earlier stopped as she passed me on her motorbike and gave me a lift home. On the way, we passed people on the bridge sending off their own wish lanterns. It was all quintessential Pai.

open 7pm ... a fun sign found in Pai

Of course, not every moment in life is magical and I’m not always lucky. That evening began a series of seven sleepless nights which will drive even the sanest person a bit crazy. Among the funniest reasons for my insomnia (if you can find humor in not being able to sleep) … torrents of rain poured down starting around midnight my last night in Pai. Remember that charming thatched roof I had? Well, I discovered they’re not so charming when it rains that hard. Minutes after the rain started, drops of rain splashed intermittently on my forehead and cheeks. This continued torturously for the rest of the night. (And yes, it did the same on my feet as well so turning the other direction in my little twin bed was not an option).

Despite that incident, I was very sorry to leave Pai. I left on October 22 and headed to Mae Taeng to attend the birthday party of a lovely Thai woman, Yao, whom I had met and clicked with the previous week at my Pai guesthouse. She and her husband operate an organic cooking school and coffee shop (You Sabai) next to an organic farm where they frequently volunteer their time (Pun Pun). I took the bus from Pai to Mae Malai, a small town where Crit, Joe and Nate (Yao’s husband, Pun Pun owner and Joe’s brother-in-law respectively) picked me up and gave me a lift to the You Sabai/ Pun Pun farms. The gusy were in Mae Malai running errands for both birthday party supplies and materials to build a solar water heater at Pun Pun. In the course these errands, (which ended up filling the back of Crit’s truck to almost overflowing) we stopped at two of my favorite places … a food market and a hardware store.

While Crit placed his orders at the food market, I wandered, munched and photographed. Although I had eaten lychees before, I discovered what they look like in their “shell” … beautiful and exotic. To date, on this trip I have eaten six new types of fruit that I never tried or (many) never knew existed: salak, durian, jackfruit, mangosteen, pomello, and dragonfruit. Of course I’ve also delighted in many fruits that I already knew and loved; mangoes, passion fruit and pineapple being my favorites.

lychees in the Mae Malai market

At the hardware store, while Joe and Nate were measuring and debating on the water heater supplies, I browsed and found some delightful pieces of metal cut from recycled aluminum that are somehow used in roofing here. I loved both the shapes and designs on the cans from which they were cut … and bought all that the hardware store had! These will be perfect to use in some of my mixed media art pieces!

Several hours later, after the guys had finished all their errands (and they think we girls spend a long time shopping!), we finally headed for the farm. Due to space limitations at You Sabai, my home away from home was at Pun Pun. Joe and his wife Peggy who run Pun Pun have really put a lot of effort into making everything on their farm natural in every respect.

my adobe home for the night at Pun Pun organic farm

The bungalow that I stayed in was made of adobe and had a thatched roof. They built shelves into the adobe - some were hollowed out of the walls and others were built to extend out from the wall. Even my bed was made of adobe … with a mattress pad and mosquito net. They had cleverly installed old glass soda bottles in parts of the adobe walls that guests could use for hooks to hang towels, etc. In keeping with their “back to nature” mentality, the hut had no electricity. A hemp hammock hung from two posts outside for guest enjoyment. I found some quiet time to laze away in it and read a book. It was all very charming … and one step above camping. 

On the walk to the party, we had to pass through an orange farm that, interestingly, operated in a manner completely opposite to that endorsed and practiced by the two organic operations on either side of it. They planted crops in such a way that erosion was a big problem. Rather than planting a variety of crops to reduce pests, this farm utilized only one type of crop (mono planting) and, as a result, used pesticides heavily. The orange trees grown there were a new hybrid type that grew more fruit than the tree could support on its own and depleted the soil of its nutrients so that the land would be rendered relatively useless within a few years. Listening to the discussion among these people who were well educated about self-sustanance was certainly an education for me.  

with Michelle (my "bungalow mate") and Yao

The party for Yao that evening was lovely. Many very interesting and eclectic people from all over the world were there and I enjoyed visiting with so many of them. One of the guys, Justin, from Yao and Crit’s cooking school whipped up all the food for the evening so, no surprise, it was AMAZING!!! People had also brought red wine (which I hadn’t tasted in a while and had missed) and then someone broke out some homemade rice wine … wow! One of the guests presented Yao with a homemade passion fruit cake which was passed around and seemingly inhaled by the group. Could this get any better? This was easily one of the best meals I’d had in the past three months. It was a fabulous evening, but my previous sleepless nights were taking their toll so I decided to turn in early. It was dark and raining when I left the party, but someone loaned me a flashlight (which they call a torch here) and I was convinced I could find my way back to my hut.

Remember that erosion problem the middle farm was having? Well, I can tell you first hand that they have serious issues. The rain, which was steady but not pelting, had formed small rivers that were cutting deep ruts into the dirt road that was the path back to Pun Pun. I slipped and fell in the mud and water several times as I walked/slid down the steep hill. At the bottom of the hill, I came to a dead end which I hadn’t expected and, in the dark, I couldn’t find the path to my hut. Rather than risk getting lost, I headed back to the party a little frightened, but mainly frustrated.

A thoughful guy named Zach, whom I had met the previous week in Pai, escorted me home. The rain had gotten worse and we both slipped and fell in the mud even worse than I had done on my way down the first time. I concluded that falling almost face first in the mud is much more fun when someone else does it with you. Nonetheless, my jeans, shoes, hands and arms were caked by the time I got home. Somehow my one-of-a kind shirt that I had bought just before leaving Pai managed to escape unscathed.

I showered off, changed into my pajamas (ah, fresh and clean again!) and crawled under the mosquito net onto my adobe bed for what I hoped was a good night’s sleep. Unfortunately, the adobe beds, though quite natural, didn’t produce a very natural sleep for me. The mosquitoes that managed to invade my net didn’t help either. (I discovered in the morning light that there was a large hole in the net rendering it pretty ineffective). So, sleepless night number three. 

the breakfast gang in You Sabai cafe

The next morning, I headed back up the eroded dirt road which had dried considerably in the short time since I had made it my personal slide. Several of us gathered with Yao at her cafe for a leisurely breakfast and coffee. Yao reminded me that she had forty monks coming the following day for a class making soap, shampoo and other items by hand. As a result, they would need my room. Although I had been looking forward to visiting with Yao longer, I can’t say that I was sorry to give up the adobe bed.

A charming lady, Jah (far right in the “breakfast gang” picture), and her friend Mike (third from the right in the same photo) offered me a ride back to Chiang Mai … after they got their truck unstuck from the storm’s greedy mud. I had visited a bit with Jah and Mike the night before, but of course got to know them better on the ride back to the city. They are both teachers at Chiang Mai University. Jah is a full time tenured professor who teaches Thai to foreigners and English to Thai students. Mike, who’s British, is a part-time English teacher for Thais. Although we had just met, Jah generously invited me to stay at her apartment while I made my next travel plans. Her parents were visiting from out of town so she basically turned over the keys to her apartment to me during my stay. I greatly appreciated her trust and her generosity. We did have a chance to have some delightful visits before I left Chiang Mai and, in a short time, found a kindred soul and made a friend for life in this tremendously bright, independent and spirited woman.  

beautiful offerings for sale in the Chiang Mai flower market

On October 24, I took an overnight bus from Chiang Mai to Bangkok. Ten hours. Illadvisable. The flight between the two cities takes an hour and costs only about $40-50. I’m not sure why I didn’t do that … trying something new I guess. Chalk up sleepless night number five (the night before was my own fault … I intended to go to bed early but lost track of time catching up with friends and family on the internet). I blame sleepless night number six (Bangkok) on the karaoke blaring from the first floor of my hotel. Sleepless night number seven (Kanchanaburi) was due to my roommate … a girl I met on the bus to Kanch lost her wallet and didn’t have money for a hotel. Unfortunately, she snored. No good deed goes unpunished, eh?

But finally in Thong Pha Phum, my week-long streak of sleep-deprived zombie-dom came to an end. It also began my interesting week-long motorbike ride around the Kanchanaburi Province….

Additional photos for this and other blog entries can be found on the “Photos of Her Adventure” page of this blog.

a curious trunk explores for bananas

Some kids go to summer camp.  Some go to Spanish, Bible or Hebrew camp.  This kid went to elephant camp.  

I spent the majority of two days last week at Thom’s Pai Elephant Camp riding and playing with elephants.  Although the big guys (or gals in this case) were cool, I’m afraid I can only give elephant camp a 5 out of 10.  

Along with six other people, I kicked off the first morning feeding bananas to a group of four elephants, all girls.  The elephants go absolutely nuts for bananas and to get them, they performed many tricks, some orchestrated, some not.  One elephant would play the harmonica.  Another would stick out her tongue.  Anything for a banana.  I was trying to solicit a hug from one (just hold the banana behind your back and she’ll wrap her trunk around you in an elephant version of a bear hug) when her neighbor decided to get in on the action.  In a matter of seconds I had trunks swirling all around me, tickling and playing tug of war with me trying to get at the bananas.  Unlike the Balinese monkeys and despite the size difference, however, it was all in good fun.  I sustained no bites or stomped toes.

Then we climbed aboard and went for a two hour elephant ride.  To get on their back, some of the elephants permit you to stand on their trunk and they hoist you up over their heads.  Others extend a leg as your route to their back.  My elephant, Ot (which ironically means “Little Frog” preferred the former.  Ot earned her bananas that day giving 3 of us a lift for the tour.  Except for a blanket, we basically rode bareback.  

Ot gives me a quick lift to my room ... and a photo opp

Some things surprised me about the elephants. Their trunks, which they use playfully as well as to snatch food, are not soft as I’d thought they would be.  In fact, there’s nothing soft about an elephant (except for their tongues).  They are rough and scratchy with 3 inch long prickly hairs that feel surprisingly close to a toilet brush.  Imagine two hours of this toilet brush abrading your calves as every two seconds a rock hard spine bangs against one side of your tail bone and then the other … and you’ve got yourself an elephant ride.  Oh, I forgot the roller coaster portion where we headed down a steep slope with nothing to hold on to.  Although Ot was incredibly careful with her footing, gravity just didn’t permit we three riders to remain in our original positions.  We all slid down toward the head and ended up piled on poor Ot’s neck. I was convinced that we would all topple down her trunk at any second - it was really quite frightening.  Sweet Ot  was gracious about the whole thing allowing us to re-situate when we did finally make it to the bottom of the hill.  Although, later at the river, she was following orders when she repeatedly hosed us down with water and then shook us off her back, dumping us in the water, I’m not convinced that she didn’t do so happily as a little bit of payback.  

So I have to conclude that in general, elephant riding isn’t really all it’s cracked up to be.  As I reflect on all the photos I’ve seen of Asian kings being carried in regal style on a pachyderm, I find it hard to believe that monarchs would allow themselves to be so abused.  Needless to say, although the exorbitant funds I paid to attend elephant camp included as much riding as I wanted, the first experience was more than enough and I passed on the rest.  

banana tree snacks

As a result, playing with the elephants became the highlight of elephant camp.  I soon discovered, however, that in the absence of bananas, the elephants are generally uninterested in much interaction … and it wasn’t long before the camp ran out of bananas.  Looking for something to do, I was happy to accompany some of the camp employees who said they were going to chop down bananas.  That should be interesting, I thought. Turns out, they chopped down entire banana trees!  No surprise if I really thought about it - elephants eat EVERYTHING afterall.  I was interested to see that banana trees are really more of a large plant than a tree.  Their stems have large cells with lots of water; not woody at all.  I counted 27 banana trees that were loaded into the pickup truck.  The driver told me that what seemed like a large number of trees to me would only last the camp’s four elephants one day! 

Later in the day, I went with the mahouts (elephant handlers) to “put the elephants to bed in the jungle” (this is phrasing from the camp advertisement).  The girls were walking single file down a narrow path and I was walking behind them talking with one of the mahouts when I had the once in a lifetime (I hope!) experience of being farted on by the last elephant.  NOT one of the camp highlights!  I can tell you from first hand experience that elephant farts are WAY stinkier than dog farts … and we all know how bad those can be!  

Thom's Pai Elephant Camp

Smelly wind instruments aside, the elephants and the mahouts were great and I give them two thumbs up.  Thom’s Elephant Camp doesn’t fare so well.  I never got the “elephant training” instruction that I paid for and repeatedly asked for.  Additionally, the camp was amazingly stingy with their resources.  My fees included 3 meals a day.  By my choice, I only ate one of those each day, but was hunted down like a thief for 15 baht (about $0.40) when I took a soda from the fridge.  Also, despite there being many empty bunglalows available, Thom insisted I share her bungalow since a shared bungalow was what I had paid for.  Two other “long-timers” at the camp also expressed some displeasure toward the end of their stay regarding similar issues.  Bottom line … if you’re in the area, stop by and feed the elephants bananas (which you can do for free), go for a ride if the above description appeals to you but otherwise, save your money and skip the camp. 

Now that I’ve checked monkeys, tigers and elephants off the list, I guess I need to seek out some bears … or maybe the elusive Irawaddy dolphin.

Videos from elephant camp coming soon … I hope!