Wat Rong Khun

Wat Rong Khun, known as the White Temple of northern Thailand, is a contemporary Buddhist temple near Chiang Rai, Thailand.

The brainchild of Thai artist, Chalermchai Kositpipat, it is a work in progress with additional buildings to be added in the future.  Construction began in 1996 and is expected to be ongoing for another sixty to ninety years.

The temple is a dazzling, brilliant structure of white plaster with embedded, glittering mirror chips.  I'd highly recommend sunglasses when approaching it on a sunny day.

An eclectic mix of Buddhist tradition and modern art permeates the temple and its grounds.  A Roman Catholic would likely risk stern papal condemnation for employing such novel juxtapositions in a place of worship.  Here, Buddhist monks serenely stroll the premises.

Ghoulish heads hang in trees, and murals depicting contemporary woes and ways, off limits to obedient photographers, adorn walls.  There are surely lessons to be learned and morals to be contemplated, but that would best be left to the unique intuition of the individual visitor.

The devil's brew.
A whiskey bottle perched on a representation of evil.
Fine with me, I never was big on whiskey.
As A.E. Housman so glibly noted years ago,
"Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink..."

The temple grounds.

Approaching the temple, visitors pass over a bridge
as a multitude of sculpted hands
reach up pleadingly from the depths of Hell.

Tourists and Buddhist monks in front of
the approach to the temple.

Back to earthly delights, chickens sizzle on a grill
across the road from the temple.

Hill Tribe Boy

Hill tribe boy.
Northern Thailand.

Tha Pae Walking Street

In Chiang Mai, Thailand, Ratchadamnoen Road is closed to traffic every Sunday evening, and a huge, vibrant, outdoor market comes to life.  Throngs of locals, tourists, and expats file into the area stretching from the plaza outside Tha Pae Gate, down Ratchadamnoen Road, and into the heart of the Old City.  

Over 700 years old, the Old City constitutes the part of Chiang Mai once surrounded by fortress walls and a moat.  Remnants of the original city walls remain.  The entire moat is intact.

The Sunday walking street market attracts street performers, and features a tempting array of street foods, as well as exquisitely crafted, indigenous goods to peruse and purchase.

Awaiting the masses.  Late afternoon, before
the arrival of  a sea of people.

Outside Tha Pae Gate.

A table of wares.

Street food.

Street crossing at Tha Pae Gate.
Songthaews, like the red one pictured here, are share taxis
that shuttle people about the city.

Street performers in the Old City.

Ratchadamnoen Road looking toward Tha Pae Gate.

Vendors and shoppers.

Street performer as darkness closes in.

A flurry of feet on Ratchadamnoen Road.

Wat Pantao is situated along the market route.

Hanging lanterns at Wat Pantao.

Reclining Buddha

In Chiang Mai Province, Thailand, worshipers
encircling the chedi at
Wat Phrathat Doi Suthep pass behind a reclining Buddha.

Beerlao

I was delighted when, on our drive from Chiang Mai, Thailand up to the Golden Triangle, our tour guide informed us that we would be able to buy Lao beer when we crossed the Mekong River into Laos.  She praised Lao beer as being "the best beer in Southeast Asia".  I thought to myself, who better to judge such a claim than the man sitting in my seat.

Sure enough, vendors in the Lao border market we visited were peddling both Beerlao Original Lager and Beerlao Dark Lager.  I was especially interested in sampling the dark.  I purchased a can of the original and a bottle of the dark which I cushioned carefully in my backpack.

Back in Chiang Mai, and before I got around to sampling the bottle I had bought in Laos, I came across Beerlao Dark at The Duke's on the Ping River -- a restaurant noted for good American food.  I was craving a decent burger and fries, and what better to accompany my meal than an unfamiliar dark brew to savor.

Duke's Swiss mushroom cheeseburger was tasty.  I ordered it with onion rings and snitched some of Stacey's fries.  All good fare.

The Beerlao Dark Lager was a pleasant surprise with a smooth, malty sweetness.  At 6.5 percent alcohol by volume, it doesn't fit the definition of a session beer, but, definitely not heavy or thick-bodied, it does go down quite easily.  I couldn't resist having another with my meal.  All in all, very satisfying.

According to RateBeer, Beerlao Dark is a Vienna style lager.  The style was developed in Vienna in 1841, and was an improvement on the dark brown lagers of the day.  The achievement was overshadowed by the first production of blonde pilsner lagers in 1842.  Even though pilsner lagers caught on rapidly, the Vienna style remained popular at Oktoberfest celebrations for years to come.

For drinkers in the upper Midwest of the USA, which has become a hotbed of quality craft brewing, another good lager in the Vienna style is Capital Brewery's Winter Skal out of Middleton, Wisconsin.  It was a big hit with family and friends at Christmas Day festivities in Spooner, Wisconsin back in 2011.  I've read there are changes afoot at Capital Brewing.  Hopefully, Winter Skal is kept in the lineup.

Travel Poster

A poster in Chiang Mai  lures travelers south to
the resort island of Phuket on Thailand's western coast.
The island's tourist trade rebounded quickly
following the devastating tsunami of  December, 2004.

Girl at Wat Phrathat Doi Suthep

Young girl at foot of steps leading to
Wat Phrathat Doi Suthep.
Chiang Mai Province, Thailand.

Rooftops

Looking out over rooftops of a contemporary Hmong hillside village
in northern Thailand.
Hmong houses are not set on stilts, like many other hill tribes, but
rather constructed at ground level.  Floors are typically dirt,
although concrete is sometimes utilized.  Thatched roofs
are traditional, but corrugated metal roofing is common today.

No Shoes Allowed

Shoes are left at the door when entering a Buddhist temple.

Shoes outside the main worship area of
Wat Phrathat Doi Suthep,
a Buddhist temple founded in 1383 on the side of
Suthep Mountain overlooking Chiang Mai, Thailand.

Hippopotamus

The gaping maw of a hippo at feeding time.
Chiang Mai Zoo, Thailand.

Ping River

The Ping River looking north toward Nawarat
Bridge.  Chiang Mai, Thailand.

Maesa Elephant Camp

At the Maesa Elephant Camp near Chiang Mai, Thailand,
handlers known as mahouts are assigned
to the care and training of 78 Asian elephants.

The Perils of Thailand

"Honey, how would you like to spend part of our vacation in a remote, lawless, border region notorious for drug smuggling, piracy, and human trafficking?"  If the question had been put to me in those terms, I would probably have suggested we stay home and play canasta with the neighbors.

It was not.  Rather, the holiday prospects my wife was researching were presented to me as an idyllic retreat to a beautiful land of waterfalls, winter warmth, mystical temples, and splendid orchids and butterflies.

Oh!  And elephant camps!

"We can even work in the camps and ride the elephants!", she exclaimed.

"They'll let us care for and bathe them," she cooed longingly as though elephants were cute, cuddly critters.  That's where I drew the line.

"I'm not shoveling dung the size of soccer balls while on vacation," I protested.  "And I surely don't want to fall off an elephant's back.  That's a long way down.  Sounds dangerous to me."  Envisioning herds of stampeding, rogue elephants, I informed her I'd stick to sniffing orchids and photographing rare butterflies.

She tsked me and carried on with the planning.

"We should sign up for a Thai cooking class," she suggested as she gauged my reaction.  That sounded safe enough.  I've been cooking for years and still have all my fingers.

"Do we get to eat what we cook?", I queried.  She assured me that was the case.  Sign me up.  The class was a real bargain as long as it included supper to boot.

She continued to peruse the tour company's offerings on their website.

"Here's a day trip north to Chiang Rai that includes lunch," she proposed.  Now you're talking.  Food along with an opportunity to see some picturesque Thailand calendar shots in person.

"That sounds grand," I offered gleefully.  Her enthusiasm for this trip was contagious.

Our flight into Chiang Mai (not to be confused with the aforementioned Chiang Rai) arrived at 11 pm.  Our guesthouse staff had advised us to go to the airport taxi desk to secure a cab ride into town.  Simple enough.  We arrived at the airport to find the airport taxi desk shuttered for the night.  The airport closes around midnight.  I envisioned us sitting on the curb outside the terminal all night long.

That may sound dreary, but I actually relished the notion as the air temperature was about 70 degrees warmer than up in Seoul where, just a few hours earlier, we had stood curbside shivering as we awaited the bus to Seoul International Airport at Incheon.

Luckily, we discovered when we moved to Seoul that if we stand idly, looking dumb and confused, when we are indeed dumb and confused, someone will 100% of the time offer assistance.  I have no problem looking dumb and confused.  It comes naturally.  For Stacey, who is well educated, it's more of an act.

It's best to have her stand behind me so we can put our worst face forward.  It worked.  In no time, we were directed to the domestic arrival hall where, sure enough, the airport taxi booth was still open and somewhat manned by someone sleeping in its hidden depths who we rudely awakened.  We secured our taxi ticket and headed outside to the comfortably warm curb to await our ride.  We'd sleep in a bed after all.  Maybe.

We were told by guesthouse staff that, since we were arriving late, the front gate would be locked and the night security guard would let us in and direct us to our room.  Believe it or not, I've worked a few night shifts through the years, and I know the natural tendency of any sane human being is to slip away from your post and find a cozy place to curl up for a nap.  I thought, if this security guard is someone I want to deal with, he'll undoubtedly have shirked his tedious duties and sought out a comfortable nook in which to doze.  And where would that leave us?  You guessed it.  Outside looking in.  At least it was warm.  And, hopefully, a neighborhood free of banditry.

The taxi dumped us off in the wee hours of the morning, and, lo and behold, the guard was on duty and seemed a nice enough fellow.  We would be well rested for the commencement of vacation activities the ensuing day.

                                                                   *****

The evening of day one, we were booked into Thai cooking class.  A songthaew would pick us up and deliver us to the school.  The songthaew is a pickup truck with a covered bed and wooden benches running parallel along the inside of the side panels.  Eight to ten people can be packed into one, and a couple more intrepid souls can hang off the back.  It's not as uncomfortable as it sounds.  It's a little like picking multiple hunters up in the field at the end of day or, years ago, heading out in a crammed pickup bed across farm fields on the way to a high school kegger.

Before being songthaewed, we went to the front desk and signed up for the all day road trip to the northern extremities of Thailand.  It would be an early start and a late finish the following day.  Good thing we'd eat well tonight.

Cooking class was all it was billed to be.  We were given a short, outdoor food market tour where we were introduced to kaffir limes, pea eggplant, and mouse shit chillies (I shit you not).  Then, it was back to the kitchens.

I never fail to impress myself.  My knife handling skills while chopping and dicing were exemplary.  A modern day Jim Bowie of sorts.  I became a master of the mortar and pestle.  It was pure wizardry as I poured a quarter rounded spatula of oyster sauce while reaching for a teaspoon of sugar.  I thought I heard murmurs of  "how does he do that?"

A dash of this, a pinch of that.  It was fast action.  We had four courses to crank out during our allotted time.  I glanced up and down the row of gas burners at my toiling classmates.  I became a bit concerned for the mere mortals alongside me.

A sauce pan in which I concocted a frothy, rapidly boiling, hot and sour prawn soup was somewhat warped and wobbly and unsafe.  Not a highly litigious society, I thought to myself.  I clung tightly to the pan's handle as flames from the gas burner lapped at my knuckles.  Turning the control knob and reducing the flame, I declared my soup finished although the lemongrass had a little crunch left in it.

It was during the third course when things went sadly awry.  I was in a kitchen making papaya salad with others who had opted for that course.  Stacey was with a group in another kitchen working on fried spring rolls.  A third kitchen group was cooking up deep fried fish cakes.

A student cooks in close proximity to the next pupil in line.  We had become acquainted with a couple cheerful young women from Amsterdam who had accompanied us to class in our songthaew.  In Asia, it is customary to leave your shoes at the door.  A youngster, who was deep frying food alongside one of the Dutch girls, tossed a fish cake into boiling grease which splattered all over the unfortunate girl's hands and bare feet.  You and I have either experienced or can imagine the pain.  A doctor in the class administered to her burns.

Needless to say, this mishap put a damper on festivities.  Alongside the dining table there stood a small fridge where a diner could help oneself to beer or soda throughout the evening, keeping a mental tab to pay at night's end.  When the time came, Stacey and I owed for four beers (me three, her one).  Curry and chillies have a kick best moderated by drink.  The Dutch girls owed for five, consumed largely after the mishap.  The perfect anesthetic -- beer.

                                                                  *****

Early the next morning, we were in a van headed north out of Chiang Mai.  There was a driver, a tour guide, and several of us tourists.  Out of the city, we entered big hill country.  The road is good, but steep and curvy in places.

I think our driver wanted to make time.  He could have whipped Richard Petty's ass.  The steering wheel's on the right and you drive on the left.  You pass anything moving slower than you -- anytime, anywhere.  Crown of a hill.  No problem.  Blind curve.  No problem.

Here's how it works.  There's a vehicle moving slower than us ahead (in our case, this was just about every vehicle on the road).  Petty bears down on its rear end and gives a slight tap on the horn.  Mind you, only a slight tap.  Drivers in northern Thailand don't use the prolonged, annoyed honk.  The incessant honking in snarled traffic of cities elsewhere is deafening.  Throughout urban and rural areas alike, silence reigns in the north of Thailand.

So, Petty taps his horn so lightly it's nearly inaudlble.  The slower driver ahead moves one meter left.  Petty pulls out, guns the engine, and straddles the centerline zooming past the slowpoke.  Oncoming traffic, usually coming very fast, moves to their left, quite often at the last instant.  Remember, we're talking hills and curves here.  A head-on collision is narrowly averted, allowing Petty clear passage down the middle of the road.

This can all be quite unnerving to a passenger seated behind Petty with a clear view of the windshield.  Not to Petty.  He has nerves of steel.  I learned I could trust him with my life.  As a matter of fact, I did.

And it's not just Petty.  This is the way of the road.  In America, road rage would abound.  There'd be screaming red faces, cussing, people flipping people off.  Maybe even bullets flying.  As one tour guide told us, "People in Lanna country (northern Thailand) are relaxed.  Not so in Bangkok."  I can honestly attest, I've never been anywhere that I've witnessed "relaxation" carried to such an extreme.

                                                                 *****

Our first potty stop en route north to Chiang Rai (not to be confused with our point of departure, Chiang Mai) was billed by our tour guide as "hot springs".  Now, I wasn't expecting Yellowstone Park, but I did visualize an acre or two of bubbly, steaming water.  Turned out, it was pretty much a pipe coming out of the ground spouting warm water about eight feet into the air.  I think after a couple beers, a man could lie on his back and piss an equivalent geyser.

Leaving the puny hot springs behind, we pressed on destined for the infamous Golden Triangle where poppy fields once dotted the hillsides.  To the drug trade, this land, where the Ruak River flows into the mighty Mekong River, and the countries of Thailand, Laos, and Myanmar converge, was the late 1970's version of contemporary Afghanistan and the remote, tribal areas of Pakistan.

During the heyday of the Golden Triangle, drug lords operated in the region with impunity, and opium brought gold to a remote, lawless area.  And we were about to go for a boat ride on the Mekong, smack dab in the middle of it all, armed with our cell phones and Canon SureShots.

No need to worry though.  Through a joint effort of Thailand and the United Nations, the opium poppy fields were, by and large, eradicated some years ago.  Hill tribe villagers who tended poppies were encouraged to grow cash crops such as cabbage and potatoes.  Markets were established where tourists could browse tribal handicraft stands.

In one Hmong village we visited, a male tribal member demonstrated the usage of a homemade crossbow.  Tourists were allowed to try out the weapon for a ten baht fee (about 33 American cents).  I couldn't help but think the guy probably longed for the good old days of harvesting poppies.

Our boat ride was uneventful but exhilarating.  The Mekong is a large, brawny river.  It's the tenth longest river in the world.  Its headwaters arise in southern China and it flows south forming the border of Myanmar and Laos, then Thailand and Laos, down through Cambodia and Vietnam, eventually emptying into the South China Sea.  It serves as a corridor of commerce and transportation.  Barges and riverboats ply its surging waters.

Where Thailand, Myanmar, and Laos meet in the heart of the Golden Triangle, there's been a building boom.  A huge Buddha looms over the Mekong river on the Thai side, there's a casino upstream across the Ruak in Myanmar, and a new Chinese operated casino called Kings Romans sprawls along the opposite bank of the Mekong in Laos.  The Laotian government granted the Chinese a 99 year lease and created a special economic zone to allow construction of the casino.  Chinese gamblers can access it via the Mekong River by riverboat.

Our tour boat made a stop at a Laotian village where more handicrafts were offered for sale.  The natives were friendly.  Attribute it to the power of the purse.

The only danger the tour guide presented was running the boat aground on a shoal, but the boat's navigator was much too savvy to make such a rookie error.

Upon arriving home, I thought to do a little research into the area to heighten our travel experience.  Good grief!  As recently as October of 2011, thirteen Chinese sailors were murdered on our visited stretch of river by drug runners and corrupt Thai border soldiers working in cahoots.  I'm not sure if all the messy details of the brazen attack have been sorted out or brought to the light of day.  Supposedly, all the miscreants and evildoers have been brought to justice.

A mother lode of methamphetamines was found on the Chinese vessel.  According to news reports I've read, meth has replaced opium in the area as the drug of choice.  The drug trade is reported to be robust.

Since the murders, which have come to be known as the "Mekong River Massacre", river patrols through a joint effort of China, Myanmar, Thailand, and Laos have been stepped up.  That maybe contributed to the calm on the river the day we visited.

I haven't read of any tourists encountering difficulties in the Golden Triangle.  Tourists come armed with their pocketbooks which are definitely welcomed by all in the area.  In a new twist on gold for opium, tourists can pose alongside poppy heads which are a remnant of a bygone age.

                                                                       *****

On days following our Golden Triangle outing, we visited the Maesa Elephant Camp where there really was no peril other than an elephant stepping on your toes.

Then came the pilgrimage to the must see Wat Phrathat Doi Suthep, a renowned Buddhist temple set on the side of Suthep Mountain, overlooking Chiang Mai.  About the only danger there would be if you took a tumble down the 306 stairs leading to the temple.  I held tightly onto the handrail.

On a visit to an orchid and butterfly farm, butterflies were flitting about all around me.  Thank goodness they're not elephants.

And then there was the lady with the British accent at the guesthouse breakfast our first morning.  I overheard her complaining to her meal companion that she was still recovering from the pummeling she had received at her Thai massage the preceding day.  Every other storefront in Chiang Mai is a massage parlor.  I knew to give them wide berth.









                                                          

Riverside House

We're just back from northern Thailand where the Riverside House, a bed & breakfast by the Ping River in Chiang Mai, served as our home away from home.  It's a cozy, inviting place brimming with interesting people from around the world.  The days were sun drenched and warm, which was a pleasant respite from the chilly, winter winds of Seoul.

Courtyard at Riverside House.