TRAVELS IN THAILAND

Since my trip to Vietnam in March, it's occurred to me that maybe Japan has ruined me on international travel.  In two years I've grown accustomed to order, safety, politeness, quiet, and surgical-grade cleanliness in public spaces.  The problem is, the destinations I find most compelling are decidedly the inverse of the things that make Japan such a great haven.  After the debacle that was Vietnam, I was concerned that I might start limiting myself to the Swedens and Canadas of the world, simply to avoid being cajoled, hassled and discomfited.  In fact, the prospect of my trip to Thailand at the end of April made me anxious.  

It turns out, there's a lot to like about Thailand.  Children go to school instead of begging in the streets, and when school is over, they hang out at mom or dad's work or play with their friends. They have childhoods, in other words.  The majority of people seem to have a decent standard of living (or at least smartphones and tablet computers).  The streets are clean, free of litter, feces, or rotting foods.  Ditto on cleanliness in public toilets, which 95% of the time offer soap and toilet paper.  

Thai people know a lot about their culture and their history, and they are eager to share it with farangs (foreigners).  Day 1 in Bangkok we were stopped three times by strangers, all men.  They peppered us with questions: Where are you going? What will you do? How long are you in Bangkok? We were wary at first of their interest; experience had taught us that there is usually a catch (often monetary) to this kind of unsolicited friendliness.  We tried to be vague in our answers, but they pushed ahead, unfurling our map and pointing to places of interest, telling us what time we should visit these sites, and what we should see.  Towards the end they'd advise us on how much we should pay for rides around town and gave us tips on how to negotiate with drivers.  Then they'd give us a friendly wave and say, "Have a good day!" No money changed hands. 

Thailand is a sensory experience.  It's hot, so hot that we easily drank (and sweat out) a couple of liters of water a day.  The streets smell of garlands of jasmine being sold at temples, or vast vats of curries and stir-fries blistering with chilies simmering on the sidewalk. We saw exotic temples and giant Buddhas, elephants and monkeys, warriors and dancers, caves and crumbling ancient walls, and surfaces glittering and gilded. Here I want to give a shout out to the Grand Palace in Bangkok. It was, literally, one of the most dazzling places I've ever been...and I made the pilgrimage to Graceland.  Every centimeter is crusted with rhinestones, mosaics of brightly-colored glass, and lustrous gold.  Liberace would be green with envy.  

The bedazzled Grand Palace, Bangkok

The Grand Palace, Bangkok

The Grand Palace, Bangkok

If you want to live the good life in Thailand, it's fairly simple.  If you aren't the king (whose portrait is ubiquitous) or a foreigner possessing savings in a currency stronger than the baht, become a monk.  Of course, if you are female, forget monkhood. This is a boys only club.  Monastic life is commonplace in Thailand, and most Thai men are monks at some point. Indeed, one of the former kings of Thailand was a monk for over 20 years before he ascended the throne. Many male children are sent to monasteries to be educated, and some people consider men who have not been ordained or served as monks to be "unripe" for marriage.  

The perks of being a monk are manifold.  If you are a monk and a train station is packed with people, have no fear.  There is a special seating section for monks with ample space for you.  

Sign in Bangkok train station

You can often catch a quick ride (sometimes for free) on a songthaew.  There's a line for the bathroom?  No problem.  Monks get their own bathrooms, separate from men, women and lamers.

And when you pass away after having devoted your life to Buddhist mediation and good works, a silicone statue will be created in your exact likeness.  It's not a gold watch, but some might say it's better (and infinitely more unsettling).   

Plastic and eerily lifelike to a point that is creepy.

The following is an account of my top monk memory (TMM).  Our hotel in Chiang Mai was ideally situated; I came to think of it as the optimal triangle. It sat across the street from a beautiful temple, Wat Chedi Luang, and directly next to a well-stocked 7-Eleven.  It had become our custom to duck into any 7-Eleven we saw to buy Coke Slurpees, which for some inconceivable reason are not offered in Japan.  One night I was filling up and saw a novice monk, maybe 9 years old, who was awkwardly contorting his body  with his back to me.  It seemed strange, and had he not been a a novice monk, I probably would have investigated to see if he was trying to lift something from the store.  It wasn't until I made my way towards the register that I could see what the problem was.  In one small hand he had a wad of baht, and in his arms he was trying to cradle 2 large iced teas and 2 large Slurpees, none of which had tops.  He somehow managed to make his way to the cashier to pay (and have tops put on his drinks).  We looked at each other, checked out each others' Slurpees, and laughed.  

It feels good to know that monks are just like everyone else.  They drink juice boxes.  They arm wrestle with friends. They check their cell phones during prayer meetings when they think the adult monks aren't looking.  And apparently they make late night runs to 7-Eleven for Slurpees.  

This is a good life. 

Reclining Buddha, Bangkok

Reclining Buddha, Bangkok

Wat Chedi Luang, Chiang Mai

Long Live the King