Temples are everywhere, like the omnipresent Buddha. You cannot hardly take them all in, but we spent a couple days trying. From Chiang Mai, it takes a commitment to get to the Wat Pha Lat, tucked into a wet ravine moderately high in the hills above the city. We chose the Monk’s Trail route, hiking through the rainforest. Not too steep, but the humidity had me sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. The temple is phenomenal, a spiritual experience, photos can’t do it justice as the feeling of being there is ethereal. Presence in every sense of the word is what makes it what it is. It’s impressive what you can do with concrete and the patience of a monk. Equally satisfying is that the few signs ask for quiet and it’s obeyed. The silence there has a musical quality, you can feel the trees around you and hear the singing of the birds and the murmuring of the creek that gurgles and slides down the rock between the structures and the sculptures. And if you are fortunate enough to adequately squeegee the sweat from your eyes, the sights are inspiring. To call it peaceful is an understatement.
Up the road in Chiang Rai there are several more. None as eloquent as Wat Pha Lat, but unique. We started at the White Temple, Wat Rong Khun. Like a fairytale: a perverse blend of Snow White, Alice in Wonderland with a certain Mordor quality to the setting. It’s dazzling to say the least. Dragons and beasts and tortured souls all surrounding the central Pagoda where Buddha sits cool and calm in the eye of the storm. White painted concrete beset with mirrored tiles, like an enormous disco ball, and the heat feels like a Saturday Night Fever. We did the Hustle through the ornate walkways and grooved and bumped and grinded with our fellow worshippers. With no rugs to cut, Tena found one in front of Buddha and paid homage. Stayin’ Alive we went to The Bus Stop and headed for the Blue Temple, Wat Rong Suea Ten. Spectacular in its own right, less blinding but with equivalent bling. A deep cobalt blue heavily accented in gold. There are two Naga serpents standing as sentries at the entrance to the main hall, giving it an air of foreboding. We slithered between them, shoeless and tip toed to eyeball a gleaming white Buddha, clearly at peace with the world. A little more touristy, this one, with its full complement of gift shops and coffee bars and shuttle vans dropping less amble able congregants at Buddha’s bare feet. Doubtless, worthy of worship, we found ourselves longing to be up in the trees creek-side saying our prayers. Insert here a quiet prayer or non devotional positive, loving vibe for Tena’s father. Rich you are on our minds and in our positive thoughts.
We have a spent a few days now in Chiang Rai, and the fascination has crawled up on us. With a sparse population of 1.2 million, it still has a rather small town feel. Our hotel room removed from the central part of town where we are continually attracted. The people are fascinating and both Tena and I are beginning to understand how drawn we are to the energy of being around people. Their kindness and gentle nature feels both foreign and discomforting, but certainly alluring. Why aren’t they angry?
There is not place where the absence of anger is more obvious than in traffic. The streets are busy. As a sidewalk observer, hectic and chaotic describes it best. So we decided to immerse, and after a couple days, the rules are clear, like a Chai Tea. We went to PP’s Motorbike shop and rented a scooter. Though lacking the thunder between the thighs, it’s a little 160cc job with plenty of zip to carry my fat ass. I still throttle that bad boy, just so Tena will hold on more tightly. If the roads are arteries, scooters are Heparin, a natural anti-coagulant that prevents clotting. Lane splitting isn’t just an app on your smart phone or a recently sanctioned practice, it’s the rule of the road. Bikes are prioritized with special lanes such as the shoulder and the oncoming lane, and temporary parking at the head of the line of cars at each intersection. You will see as many scooters as cars, some with a full complement of passengers, sometimes up to 4 humans who may or may not be holding on. Some drivers, fresh from the hardware store carrying lumber or pipe or a dozen bags of raw chicken in each hand. And yeah, you can get chicken at the hardware store. Can’t make this shit up. Humorous and mesmerizing to watch, and absolutely treacherous if you cut and paste that into an American context. We’ve yet to see an accident, though I have nearly caused a couple here in my toddler phase. We’ve only heard a few sirens, mostly at night and left to our own speculation, “Probably just another cantankerous American having a heart attack because his air conditioning stopped working.” And then you add that they drive on the left side here, which is the wrong side from the scope of my limited worldly experience. Right may be right, but right turns feel wrong when you are sweeping across 8 lanes of traffic with zero turn lane markings. Yet, no one seems to be in a hurry and everyone seems to have an uncanny awareness of others. Like the first time I turned into the oncoming lane of traffic, Hey Big Eyes but no birdies, no insults. And none from the other commuters either. The simple act of looking over your shoulder and the driver behind you slows and the space opens up. Wow, you can move cars with the power of intention? Is it possible that if everyone slowed down and practiced compassion traffic would move more efficiently? Is it possible that same model could transcend the gridlock? Perhaps I’ll apply for a grant to do some personal research. Perhaps I’ve already reached my own conclusions and will now work on the application to my own behavior.
We have not found a shower yet that has much water pressure, so if you have thick hair you should stay home. I vanquished that problem years ago, intuiting that I would end up here one day. The stays have all been pleasant. Plumbing seems to be a privilege here and air conditioning a luxury. When we step into a restaurant or massage shop, they recognize us for who we are and flip on the AC. Otherwise the sense that I get is that the inhabitants here are comfortable with what is, no grants needed for that readily available observation. Maybe Buddhism, in congruence with the Thai Chile, is the way. I’ve got the hair for it. I’ll meditate on it.
