A Day of Wats

Not shiny enough, I said.

You know, the one thing Angkor was missing, in my half-kidding opinion.

And then I arrived in Thailand.

One of the benefits of being in the backpacker ghetto known as Khao San, aside from the very cheap spa services, and non-stop shopping and eating, is that it is very close to the historical sights.

It ususally takes a twisting of my arm to stop wandering, shopping, and tasting long enough to get me to absorb some history, but guilty having not seen even a fraction of what Angkor had to offer, I felt compelled to devote a day to Wats (Buddhist temples.)

I get started later than I should have. I start walking towards what I think is Wat Po, the closest to me and the home of Thai Massage. I make the wrong left, and although I haven't figured this out yet, not one but two tuk-tuk drivers yell out to me "Wat Po!!" and point in the correct direction.

I ignore them, although I'm sure they are right, I've learned to ignore tuk-tuk drivers. They are obnoxious in Vietnam, persistent in Cambodia, and although until today I had no basis for comparison, I decided they were best avoided.

I turn around, and stop in front of this beautiful statue: I don't remember it's name, but she's twisting her hair, the hair serving as a fountain. There's a man there, and isntead of getting me to give money for an offering, he starts to tell me that the water coming from her head is holy, and that I should pour some on my head for luck. I can't say no to him even if I tried... he's already poured some of the water into my hand to put on my head. His smile invites me to listen, knowing that soon I'll probably have to tell him I'm not interested in his fucking tuk-tuk.

He asks the typical questions: where I'm from, what I'm doing in Thailand, how I like it, etc. He asks me to take out my map, and starts furiously circling all of the places he thinks I should go. The Golden Buddha, the reclining Buddha, the Golden Mountain. All these things are free today, as today is some special Buddha day. Also, he tells me, the government recently put out some kind of charge: people have been coming to Thailand in droves because of recent cataclysmic weather patterns elsewhere in Asia... they've been compelled to "take care of toursits." He tells me a special tailor to go to for Thai silk, a government travel agency that doesn't charge a commission for when I go to Chaing Mai. He tells me to take a tuk-tuk, as it is way too far to walk. 30 baht (less than a dollar) for the whole adventure, no more, he says, and he takes me to the tuk-tuk drive he claims not to know. He'll talk for me, he says. I am taking everyting with a grain of salt.

The tuk-tuk driver says 50 baht, and my new friend negotaites to his promised 30. I agree. My friend tells me to enjoy Thailand, and to come back. He asks for nothing in return.

Everything in Bangkok seems so close on the map. I'm wrong. This driver takes me to wat after wat. The golden Buddha is covered with 24K gold mosaics and is as tall as a lighthouse.

Shiny I wanted, shiny I got.

I love Mr. Tuk-Tuk guy... he speaks plenty of English and is very warm... even up until the point where the scam starts in. Tuk-tuk drivers are notorious for talking you into shopping trips- for no extra fee they'll take you to this special shopping place and that one. I told him that I got a lot of stuff in Vietnam, and I didn't really want to do any more shopping (although this itself is a little white lie) and the guy tells me how it is- for every customer he brings to this particular shop, he gets a coupon, and after a certain number of coupons they give him shirts, which he gives to his daughter. He promises me I don't have to buy anything, I jsut need to go in and look.

I was so delighted by this little bit of honesty that I obliged. It's an exhorbitant jewelry shop, I meander for a couple of minutes, say "thanks" and leave.

He drops me off at the Royal Palace, after I told him "no more shopping."

The Royal Palace has a strict dress code, stricter than Angkor. I saw a ton of people walking aruond Angkor in shoulder-bearing tops, and I was surprised, as I had read that that wasn't permitted. Here, shoulders had to be covered, women had to wear pants or skirts that went below the knee, men had to wear long pants.

Guards inspected your outfit before you bought your ticket. I was wearing the long skirt, but my tank top didn't pass code. So you pay a deposit of 100 bhat for each piece of clothing you have to BORROW. I take a particularly unflattering shirt and hope no one else had worn it that day.

I buy my ticket, walk around to the gate, and the new guard tells me my shoes are no good, and I have to go back to the front.

Now I'm pissed. It was tiring enough getting here... I forced myself to come here after too long of a morning (however pleasant) of wats, and I knew if I didn't do it today I wouldn't. I hardly slept the night before, my energy was fading.

Even more pissed I was when I get to the front, and they have no idea what I'm talking about, and can't explain the guard's behaviour.

I'm visually pissed. Not particularly Buddhist or Asian of me.

I sson lightened my mood: the Royal Palace, not Angkor Wat, is the Disneyland of Holiness.

I'm sad that my pictures cannot convey how shiny and opulent these buildings were. This might be one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen in my life.