Sunday in Patong

Green Season:  We are in what is called the “green season” here.  It extends from June to September, and it is the monsoon season.  It has just begun.  Obviously, it is not the tourist season, but I get the sense that Phuket is doing everything it can to up their visitor totals this time of year.  80,000 people on the island work in the tourist industry.  The European languages are heard everywhere; now, it seems the Thais want to encourage more Asian tourism.  Here’s a riddle for you:  A new Center for Language Skill Development has just opened up here on Phuket.  It is offering free language classes to those 80,000 workers.  What five languages will initially be offered?  (I’ll tell you later.)  My assessment is that English is neither well-understood nor well-spoken here.  Part of the problem, I think, is that so many languages are spoken by the tourists who populate this island.  English, though, is spoken by more than Brits and Australians; it is spoken by everyone else who visits (a slight exaggeration) as a second language.  Then, there is the international language of the global corporations which communicate in signs and symbols.  They offer a heavy dose of Western culture but often try to tailor it to local sensitivities.  What is difference about Ronald here on the beachfront in Patong?

They Fed Me:  This was the hardest Sunday for picking a church to attend; in fact, I was first told there were none in Patong (the largest town on the island).  I couldn’t believe that, though, so I hit the Internet and found the House of the Lord Church, which advertised itself as an international church.  It was close, half a block from the beach in an arcade of shops and restaurants.  It had occupied this space for a year, and there was room for maybe 40 people.  The service lasted two hours (yes!).  In fact, we stood to sing for so long that half the congregants sat down half way through.  It was spirit-filled singing with a guitarist and song leader up front.  Words were projected onto a video screen (including their English translation).  I had a surprise, though.  All visitors were called one by one to the microphone to tell a bit about themselves.  I was the first.  Then the Australian woman, then the Swiss man married to the Brazilian, then the Finns who were on their honeymoon.  Then, the Australian man said he would pass; I talked to him later, though, and he told me to call him when I got to Australia.  He didn’t seem to be shy.  No one seemed to be in a rush, including the preacher.  The sermon was on Jehoshaphat, but I caught only bits and pieces.  It was delivered in Thai, then translated into English by a Thai man who goes by ‘Joseph.’  This is the first church that handed out lunches (fried rice with fried egg on top) after the service, so we all sat around and talked for a while. 

Geographically yours,

D.J.Z.

The Anadaman Sea

Monkey Cave:  As you know, monkeys thrive in this part of Asia.  Near Phang-Nga (on the mainland) is monkey cave, the site of Wat Sawan Kuha.  In the cave is a huge reclining Buddha made of gold.  (Why am I suspicious that all these Buddhas are made of real gold?)  Of course, a temple requires a monastery, so monks are around to tend to the needs of their lord – and the monkeys.  Geographers know that caves indicate limestone lithology.  Here in the wet tropics, there is plenty of water to dissolve calcium carbonate and huge pockets form underground.  Roof collapse often opens the caverns to the outside world.  That’s what we have here, a huge cave with two fine entrances and an abundance of stalactites and stalagmites.  Actually, I found the cave much more interesting that the Buddha.  Am I allowed to say that?  The monkeys seem to know enough not to go too far into the cave, but they love the trees outside, though they seem to be a little scarce when it is pouring down rain, as it is today.  Yes, today is proof that we are in the monsoon season.  Not that it rains all the time, but there are always clouds in the sky and today there has been complete cloud cover and periodic rain.  The advantage of thick clouds?  It is cool and pleasant. 

007: I got on a long-tail boat at the port town of Phang-Nga.  It was propelled by a powerful motor and captained by a skilled mariner driving from the rear.  Out into Phang-Nga Bay we went.  Much, if not most, of the bay is part of Ao Phang National Park.  One of its 42 islands became world famous in 1974:  James Bond Island.  Go back and watch Man with a Golden Gun; you’ll see it.  I walked that beach today and saw the offshore islet, Ko Tapu, standing tall and proud.  You wouldn’t believe the number of long-tail boats that visit each day; it has to be one of southern Thailand’s most famous attractions.  Fortunately, everyone docks on the opposite side of the island and visitors walk to the famous beach.  Khao Phing Kan (the real but never-used name of James Bond Island) along with the others were formed from the same processes that created Monkey Cave.  The bay is studded with limestone islands, remnants of a karst landscape that was drowned by the sea.  Each island (really, large sea stacks with vertical sides) is covered by tropical forests and fringed by mangrove swamps.  It is magnificent and mysterious looking in the rain and mist that enveloped our boat on this afternoon’s voyage. 

Koh Panyee:  None of the islands have enough of a coast for settlement.  Their sides plunge into the sea.  Nevertheless, a village of about 200 homes has developed off the island of Panyee. Every structure is built on stilts and they are all connected by boardwalks.  As a fishing village it is several centuries old, but now it is also a tourist destination you can even take a room here for 500 baht.  Panyee's population is Muslim and they are raising funds to build a mosque (though they have always had a masjid, or praying place).   It must be wild to be a kid here.

Geographically yours,

D.J.Z.

Into the Hills

Excursion Day:  Chiang Mai is geared up for travelers.  You can rent bikes and scooters, take hiking excursions into the mountains, or arrange shorter bus tours.  Today, it was time for a brief excursion into the mountains to visit a hill tribe village.  It turns out the tribe was the Hmong, one of five or six tribes living in northern Thailand.  Until a few decades ago, the basis of their economy was poppies.  After all, this is the ‘golden triangle.’  Now, they have transitioned to tourism and handicrafts.  In fact, to get to the real village everyone must pass through a gauntlet of shops offering lots of embroidery, traditional clothing, hats, and some jewelry; food, too.  I spent a few bhat on handicrafts in the hope of quashing any idea of returning to poppy cultivation, especially since the village had very few visitors today.  But, again, this is not tourist season here.  

We were fortunate to see a funeral taking place in the council house.  A body I could not see, but I could see the crowd of people gathered around the opposite side of the room.  Not much mourning, and I suspected a ‘celebration’ would come later because food was being prepared in lavish quantities on the back patio and decorations (I suspect for a funeral procession) were being made down a side alley.  The Hmong here are Buddhists, but they came to Thailand centuries ago from China.  So, they practice Chinese burial customs:  they bury their dead.  Thais follow the Indian burial customs: they cremate their dead, the Hindu practice. 

In Doi Pui we were maybe15 miles away from Chiang Mai, but you get to the village via a switch-back road that climbs and climbs into a rainforest.  It is both cooler and mistier in the mountains; I can see why we passed one of the King’s palaces on the way; it’s a relief being up in the hills.

Wat Prathat:  On the edge of the mountains that overlook Chiang Mai was Wat Prathat Doi Suthep temple.  A wat is a monastery temple. I cannot vouch for all these facts but essentially this is the story.  A monk discovered a relic of the Buddha and took it to the Lanna King.   The king put the relic on the back of a white elephant which was sent into the mountains around Chiang Mai.  The elephant stopped and died at what became the site of the temple here.  The first shrine built was to house the relic, a bone, but lots of other temples have been added to the site.  The aspect of the story that does not get mentioned prominently is that the monarch who commissioned the elephant and built the first part of the temple complex was the King of Lanna.  Any use of the word Lanna here in Chiang Mai hearkens back to the time when northern Thailand was a kingdom of its own.  When you visit Wat Prathat, you are seeing Lanna history, not Thai history.  The people of Chiang Mai take pride in their royal past. 

The most interesting part of the temple compound was the “cemetery” that surrounded a bodhi tree.  Remember that most Buddhists in this part of the realm are cremated, so the cemetery provided individually-size cubicles for the ashes.  The cubicles were arranged around the tree trunk.  The names of the individuals, including some Americans, were inscribed on the “front door” to each compartment.  Now, their souls are in heaven with Lord Buddha.

Geographically yours,

D.J.Z.

It Tickles

I chose to stay in a hostel here in Chiang Mai, but I took a private room with air conditioning.  Breakast on the front patio is included.  It is inside the moat, meaning in the old city.  Most of the tourist hotels are well outside the historical core.

Doctor Fish:  My feet took a leap into the deep today.  I couldn’t resist a fish massage; that is, I let a tank of fish massage my feet.  I had never heard of this before arriving in Chiang Mai, but on the very street where I am staying, I discovered Fish Spa.  I read the sign, walked past, laughed out loud (lol), went back.  In the window was a tank full of ‘guppies’ that looked like tiny catfish; they were the doctor fish.  First, the proprietress washed my feet on the front step.  In I went, hopped up on a bench behind an aquarium, and dangled my feet in the water.  The little guppies started a feeding frenzy.  It tickled.  They scoured all dead skin and who knows what else off my fleshy phalanges.  Especially the areas between my toes did they like.  This lasted half an hour.  Now truthfully, I can’t say my feet felt any better, but it was an experience I will never forget.  I wonder if a franchise in Virginia Beach might find a market.

Serendipity is wonderful.  A fish massage was not my objective this morning.  Getting a haircut was.  Be assured, though, that I did get my hair cut right outside the main gate to Chaing Mai.  (Yes, all the old gates survive!)  I was the only customer.  I got a shampoo, a head massage, and a haircut for $5.  Now, I look Thai and I have added to my international collection of haircuts.  Remember:  “The haircut is the souvenir that doesn’t take up any room in your luggage!”  Where did you get your last haircut?

Chiang Mai:  Chiang Mai is a big city with a small town atmosphere.  I can see why Americans like it here.  There are thousands.  I hear they get together and celebrate July 4 every year (sponosred by the VFW).  I met a teacher who had given up on California (where he wasn’t even a teacher), moved to Thailand, and got a job in a government school.  Instruction is in English.  He says there is a plan in the offing to provide all instruction in English for all students.  Not verified, but it does make sense.  Thailand has its own hill tribes that do not speak Thai, plus none of the neighboring countries speaks a mutually intelligible tongue.  English will help modernize and knit the region (southeast Asia) together.  If you need a job teaching English as a second language, come to Thailand.  You will need a certificate, but you can get one here.  There are flyers all over.  In India, the role of English may be explainable by England’s overly long colonization.  In Thailand, however, there was no colonial period, and English has no history.  I suspect the first infatuation came during the Vietnam War when Thailand meant R&R for American troops.  The Thais learned that English meant money. 

The cost of living here is very low, and the city has apparently become a mecca for retirees, from both the US and Europe.  Housing is cheap and foreigners can own property (but not the land).  Plus, all the amenities are here or a quick hour-flight-to-Bangkok away.  Coffee shops, pubs, restaurants, sidewalk food vendors are ubiquitous.  I am finding free wifi here much more easily than in Bangkok.  I like this laid-back town.  Judging from the newspapers available, so do the French, Germans, and Italians.  The newspapers look like they have been printed on a large-format printer and stapled together.  News stands abound, and there are at least a dozen used book shops.

 

Geographically yours,

D.J.Z.

Emerald or Jade?

Ascension Day:  The Roman Catholic Church seems to be thriving here in Bangkok.  I attended the English-language mass at Assumption Cathedral this morning.  It was Ascension Day, the 40^th day after Easter Sunday.  Even though it was a huge basilica-style church, there was standing room only.  Amazing, considering there was no air conditioning, just fans overhead and along the side aisles.  The priest sounded like he came from the United States.  At other times on Saturday and Sunday, there are also masses in Thai.  In addition to the cathedral, there is Assumption College, where children of Bangkok come for an education.  Just for your information:  in much of the world, the word college means a school you go to before you go to University.  The children at Assumption College wear uniforms, but so do all of the kids in government schools.

The Emerald Buddha:  On the grounds of the Royal Palace is the temple of the Emerald Buddha.  But, the effigy is really made of jade.  To confess, I went through this temple and didn’t see a Buddha at all, so I figured I had the wrong building.  I checked my map and discovered it was the right one.  I went back in and looked up.  I had expected to see a figure that was more than life size, but this one isn’t.  It is torso-sized and sits atop a pyramid of gold that lifts it almost to the ceiling.  For a single piece of jade, however, it is huge. As usual, though, all you get in the official narrative is a bunch of bland facts.  So, why is the emerald Buddha the central focus of the monastery that surrounds it and why is it in the royal palace at all?  Here is my far more interesting (though hypothetical) story line.  The jade image comes from Thailand’s far north.  It once graced the royal palaces of the King of Chiang Mai and the King of Laos.  Both were conquered by the southern Thai kingdom, and the unique green image of Buddha was installed in the new capital of Bangkok.  To me, it is all symbolic.  When you conquer territory, you need to advertise how powerful you are.  As monarch, you find the most treasured artifacts of the conquered lands, and you bring them in your own capital city.  The emerald Buddha is in Bangkok as booty, the spoils of conquest.  If you are an Anglophile, think Stone of Scone, now repatriated.  But on the part of neither Thailand nor Laos is there a repatriation movement.  I see no reason, though, why Laos should not call for a return of their patrimony, since the image resided in Vientiane for 226 years.  Besides, asking for your treasures back seems to be a theme of 21^st century cultural geography.

You still don't know why they call this jade Buddha, the emerald Buddha, but that's an interesting story, too.  One you will have to look up!

Geographically yours,

D.J.Z.

Socks and Sea Shells

It was raining this morning and showery this afternoon, so a down day it was.  I did accomplish three things, however.

Red Curry:  I love Thai food in the United States but the only thing I ever order is red curry.  My objective was to compare authentic red curry here with what I can order at home.  At noon I stumbled upon a sit-down restaurant serving “authentic” Thai food, so here was my chance.  The red curry I ordered had three of the same ingredients I am used to:  tomatoes, basil, and bamboo shoots in a coconut-milk broth, served with white rice.  Alas, it paled in comparison to Bangkok Gardens in Norfolk!  Yes, we have the world’s best Thai restaurant at home.  By the way, don’t do what I have just did when you travel:  compare everything to what you are used to in the States.  It’s very bad practice, very ethnocentric, and not endearing to the locals.  But, I sometimes do it anyway.  Far better was the hot-and-sour coconut soup I had in the evening.  Where? At Jameson’s Irish Pub.  Forgive me.  I had to eat there because my favorite Celtic band in the United States is “The Fighting Jamesons.”  You should look them up on Facebook.

Holey Socks:  I guess I am hard on socks because I’ve got some holes appearing.  One I had mended in Delhi.  Two others I had mended today here.  Sidewalk culture is vivid in Bangkok.  If you want to start a business, you start on the street and maybe eventually get a shop.  Among the entrepreneurs are women who sit at sewing machines (the old Singers with foot pedals) spending their day mending.  They usually have a big plastic bag of clothes beside them, but I have no idea where all the mending comes from.  I interrupted one seamstress today, presented her with my socks, and in front of my eyes the holes disappeared.  She was slick.  The difference between Bangkok and Delhi?  Man vs. woman.  Here, women working in the shops (and elsewhere) are as common as men.  The old sewing machines were pretty much the same vintage, however.  My regret?  That I have to wear socks at all, which means that I have to wear long pants (anathema), so shoes and socks complete the outfit.  Short pants just don’t cut it here or in India.  In fact, I asked my hotelier in Delhi if he thought I could get away with wearing shorts.  “No,” said he in so many words.

Shell Nostalgia:  When I was a kid I had a pretty good seashell collection (thanks to my dad).  So, I had to visit the Bangkok Seashell Museum, all three floors of it.  These micro-museums I often (maybe usually) find more satisfying than the huge showpiece varieties that are de rigueur for tourists.  (Remember my trip to the Museum of Garden History in London?)  For me, seeing seashells was a trip down memory lane.  I had shells from all the major groups I saw today, and can still remember how I struggled to identify them in the days before Web technology.  I also remembered that the prettiest ones came from the Indian and southwest Pacific Oceans.  So, thought I, Bangkok is the perfect place for such a show. The displays were well proportioned and well lighted, and photography was allowed.  My discovery:  there is a cone shell called Conus geographus, I guess because the squiggly brown lines reminded Linnaeus of a map.  I would adopt it as my personal shell except this cone shoots a poisonous venom into fish and then eats them.  Not good symbolism.  So, since everyone should have a shell to incorporate into their personal coat of arms, I will keep looking.  Conus mercator might be a possibility.  No, that one is poisonous, too.  Plus, the Mercator projection is a cylindrical projection, not a conic.  I also learned how porcelain got its name: it comes form the Roman name for the cowrie shells (porcellana, from the word for pig) that Marco Polo brought back from the East.  They were both shiny.  My shell collection?  I have no idea whatever became of it, and now I feel bad about it.

Geographically yours,

D.J.Z.

Canal Lizards

The Chao Phraya:  Bangkok sits on the Chao Phrayha River, opposite the former Thai capital of Thonburi.  It was moved there by Rama the Great whose dynasty still rules.  You know the fictionalized account of Rama IV, “King of Siam,” and his quarrels with Anna.  I had a chance today to see Thonburi on a longtail boat via a khlong (canal) that arcs through the city. 

There’s a perplexing array of ferries and private-hire boats that run the Chao Phraya.  With a little observation, though, the system becomes legible enough.  I stepped onto my boat at its southern-most stop not far from Silom Road and rode it to a stop I had identified as the Flower Market. Here, sidewalks and streetsides are crammed with flower arrangers and wholesale vendors in every direction. Garlands of marigolds and jasmine flowers were being sewn together with needle and thread.  (The whole experience made me think of the pathetic flower market in Amsterdam, and how good it could be.  Yes, the Dutch should come to Thailand to see how to fluoresce in flowers.)  Here in Thailand, there is a good climate for flowers, cheap labor for growing them, and a ready market for selling them.  Although Thais seem not to have much money, there always seems to be plenty for posies.  It reminded me of an old Persian proverb: ‘If you have two pennies, spend one for the body and with the other buy hyacinths for the soul.’  Indeed, in Thailand, a large segment of the flower market seems to be for salving for the soul.  All over the city are temples, shrines, and spirit houses at which people stop to pray.  To them, they often bring offerings, and flowers are the most popular.   Thus, around every big temple, there is a small flower market, and these small flower markets make their wholesale buys at the central market I visited today.  It is one block away from the Chao Phraya, and I understand that many of the stalls are operated by people who come by boat from Thonburi on the left bank.  To me, it looks like the original flower market was not along the street but on the sois (a soi is a side street) and the interiors of blocks.  That space now is taken by the wholesale produce market, which is also a fascinating operation, to which everyone comes to buy their fresh fruits and vegetables in large quantities.  Here’s the pattern:  main streets: flowers; side streets and block interiors:  fruits and vegetables.  All streets:  packed with people.  In fact, because there are so many people, street food is available everywhere:  from fruits and drinks to hot foods in kettles and on the grill.  I just wish I knew the names of these palate pleasers.  If labeled at all, the names are in Thai, and most of these vendors do not speak English.  I discovered a way to figure out fruit names, though:  go into a modern supermarket, find the same fruits, and read the English names.  One of the most intriguing fruits was one I wished I knew the name of.  Using my supermarket technique, I discovered it was the Vietnamese Dragon Fruit.  Don’t you just love that name?  It reminds me of Virginia Beach and its very own dragon – but more on that later.

From the oh-so-interesting wholesale markets I ventured into the Bangkok’s temple precinct and tourist mecca, the quarter where you find the Royal Palace and Emerald Buddha, the museums, and government offices.  Very beautiful, but I feel sorry for tourists who make this their only view of Bangkok.  I will go another day.  But another market was flourishing outside the temple precinct: the market in Buddhist amulets, little charms whose popularity is associated with a monk whose temple is across the river. 

In my attempt to find my way back home, I asked a man waiting with me to cross the street where the Metro was.  Take the ferry back was his advice.  But we got talking and then spent the rest of the afternoon together.  He teaches sociology at a secondary school associated with one of the temples.  He was a former Buddhist monk (for about 10 years, until age 22), and is still intent on practicing Buddhism, not just ritualizing it.  Most Thais, he hold me, don’t really apply Buddhist teachings to their lives; they just go through the motions.  Same everywhere, said I.  He was quite proud of the city, especially of its over 200 temples, and suggested I go on a canal ‘cruise’ that would take me through the oldest parts of Thonburi.  If I didn’t do it in the afternoon, the flood-control gates would close and the boats would not be able to get in.  Did he want to go with me?  Yes, he did, so off we went on a huge boat, and just for us. 

The canal-side built environment is deteriorating; it’s an historical preservation project just waiting to happen.  Perhaps it has already started, as a few new teak houses have sprouted up along its shore, but most of the housing is badly deteriorated.  What isn’t deteriorated are the temples, of which there were too many to count and so many different styles.  We stopped at a majestic and colorful one I would characterize as a “mixed-use” community center.  There was a multitude of individual shrines, a troop of boy scouts sitting for lessons, a pair of crematoriums for disposing of the dead (but save a bone fragment).  One boxed-body was in repose and in a pavilion next door a prayer vigil was being kept.  This goes on for a few days, and then the body is cremated.  There were other boats in the canal, but not as many as I expected, though I did buy a small model from one of the boat women.  What my friend reveled in pointing out were the monitor lizards that lived along the canal:  huge ones!  It made me nostalgic for my home in Virginia Beach, where we have our own Komodo Dragon, and for my favorite Starbucks where Komodo Dragon is my favorite coffee.

The Cute Mute:  Without saying a word today, I bought a small silk print showing three elephants.  I usually don’t buy such things, but the man who sold it to me was a mute (and maybe deaf).  He did all his bargaining with body language supplemented with pad and pencil.  His cart (all kinds of silk prints) was all by itself, he had no customers, and he provided the most interesting side show of the day.  Once we settled on a [too high] price, I gave him a big bill for a small purchase; he took it and ran (of course, without saying a word).  He had to get change.  It is the universal story in most of the world:  nobody has change!  I figured I had his cart as collateral.  Had anyone been nearby, I would have tried to sell them something.  I got my change, but was reminded of the time in Morocco when I wasn’t so lucky.  That vendor knew that all he had to do was be off with my big bill and stay until the bus I was riding departed.

Geographically yours,

D.J.Z.