Tales From The Crypt

March 17
Chiang Mai

Chiang Mai, one of the oldest areas of Siam and once boasting its own king, is rich in history, both Buddhist and political. The outlying mountains have the highest peak in Thailand and the kingdom was once a force to be reckoned with. It has more wats in a concentrated area then Bangkok, and the center of Buddhist teaching in the country, the monastic university, is here. Needless to say, the place is teeming with monks..

On my first full day in town, I I decided to take it easy, visit some of the important wats, walk around and get a feel for the place. I was pretty agendaless save for finding the Air Asia office (easily located across the street from my guest house) to change my ticket to Kuala Lumpur to an earlier date, so that I could have more time on the beach (a decision I would live to regret).

The thing about Thai cities is that the streets are not always clearly marked and maps, for the most part, are incomplete and rarely to scale. It's easy for foreigners to get lost and the tuk tuk drivers know it. So, when any farang walks around with a map in hand, there is the constant bother of “tuk tuk?” or the other, more annoying tactic, whereby the drivers fall into step with you and try to make innocent conversation, “Where you from, you like Chiang Mai? Where you go? I drive you, good price.” It is a minor nuisance, though is much less forceful here than in Vietnam, so I tried to ignore it and get on with my day, chuckling every time I was called “sir.” Must be a Thai language thing. In Laos and Vietnam, I was always called “madam.” Not sure if I liked that title either, but it beat “sir.” I'd read my map wrong and ended up in an area of town I had no desire to visit, but found an interesting wat with a monk who was on his day off , hanging out and hoping to practice his English. So I sat down and talked with him for awhile. Gotta hand it to those monks, man, they know how to study. He'd only been studying English for 18 months and he made zero mistakes. I'm not sure if he knew the subtle differences between sweet and suite, but he probably did. It was definitely a pleasant way to get lost and I did not have to hire one of the pesky tuktuk guys.

The main highlight, if you could call it that, was wat Chiang Man. It is located smack dab in the city center and its foundations date back to the 1300s (though they look more ancient than that to me). It is shaped like a pyramid and the ruins appear old enough to be in company of those in Giza. Buddha sits in alcoves on 3 of the 4 sides, high up in the air (40 stories, maybe) and is unreachable. Stairs are blocked off. He is flanked on all sides by larger than life elephants as well as fire breathing 3 headed dragons. As this is sacred land, there are naturally other wats on the grounds. I spotted a reclining buddha, a fat jolly seated buddha, an altar with tens of golden buddhas.

There were two temples that stood out from the rest. They were dark from the outside, probably teak, and with very ornate decoration. Inlaid mother of pearl details adorned the entrances. The first temple was devoid of any sign in English, but I assumed it had to be of some importance to have a sign at all. I removed my shoes and walked inside, greeted by strange faces on the people exiting. I wondered what their deal was, until about a moment later. Inside, I was struck by shock, disbelief and mild horror. Upon the altar, seated in a glass case, was a monk. I'm not talking any old monk – this guy was austere, commanding. He looked downright mean. His eyes were open, so I figured he was in some sort of deep meditative state that allowed the eyes to remain open yet see nothing. It was creepy, but I got closer. I wanted a look into those eyes. What I got was a deep stare into a black abyss. Then it dawned on me. The deep meditative state had a name. It's called death. This guy looking back at me was a straight up corpse (propped up by what, I don't know. Enlightenment?) At first, I didn't believe it. I searched for signs of breath. None. Blinking? Nope. Eyes were glass. Then I though wax. Could this be Ripley's donation to buddhism? I got close. Ear hairs, check. Unkempt cuticles and dead skin on the fingers, check. A pimple on his neck, check. Scratch, probably from a rusty razor, on the back of his head, check. If it was wax, it was a damn fine piece of work. The groundskeeper said he was real, embalmed, and I tended to agree with him. It was still a stunner, and I left probably looking much like the people I'd seen on my way in.

I scurried next door hoping to see a giant sparkling golden buddha, and bam! Another dead monk in a glass case. This guy was more my speed, though. He was markedly older, with white head stubble, and his eyes were half closed. His face looked much more peaceful but I still was feeling ill at ease. I made a small donation and got the hell out of there, leaving a little spooked. There were 2 more temples to visit, and I decided to leave it to the loud Germans behind me to exploit. Maybe one of the monks would be alive and hiss them into silence.