Back from our Songkhran getaway, I’ll give you the first of two entries, this one dating from last Friday. 

Roka’s best friend Stacy arrived on Thursday from Portland, Oregon.  About a month ago Roka asked if I’d take Stacy sightseeing, since Friday would be the one day when Roka was still working and would be unable to show Stacy around.  I agreed and met up with Stacy at lunchtime.

Also, in a bit of serendipity, I met up with another friend who is visiting from Phoenix, back after an eighteen month absence.  The three of us had lunch before Marc headed off to run errands and Stacy and I caught the canal taxi into the old city.

It was hot and sunny on Rattanakosin Island but with a stiff breeze.  The air was unusually clear, not only for this normally smog-choked city but also when considering that a landfill fire had been burning for five days in an adjacent province southeast of the city.

To take advantage of the clear air, we headed to Wat Saket, also known as “Golden Mount”.  This is the highest geographic point in the city, a man-made hill and the only hill in Khrungthep.  The current chedi dates to the reign of King Rama V, who enshrined a Buddha relic belonging to the royal family there in 1877.

Right: View of Wat Saket from San Saeb canal.

In the temple grounds at the base of the hill  there was a Songkhran festival underway, a display of traditional new year’s activities.  Students from a nearby school were wearing traditional outfits, pouring jasmine-scented water over the hands of their elders, washing Buddha images, and playing jump rope and other games.

A reporter and cameraman from channel 7 news was on the scene, filming the water blessings.  As I stepped behind the cameraman to try and get the same shot, the reporter said to him, in Thai, “Why don’t you move for that farang behind you.”  To which I repled, “mai pben rai” – no worries!

As soon as she realized that I understood Thai, she decided that she would interview me.  Camera rolling, Stacy and I participated in the water blessing ceremony, pouring water on the hands of the seated elders and wai‘ing them.  Then the reporter asked me a series of questions about why I was interested in these traditional ceremonies and what I though about Thai culture.  I stumbled my way through the short interview, amusing everyone as I went along.  Tawn will be checking with his media clipping service to see if I made the evening news or not.

After making our media appearance, we climbed the double-helix staircases to take in the view.  The breezes were very cooling at the top of the 100-meter tall hill.  Standing in the shade, all of my sweat dried up.  While not nearly as impressive as the view from the top of the Banyan Tree or Baiyoke 2, there was still a nice view of the old city.  Below, my telephoto lens is maxed out to take this picture of the residence portion of the Grand Palace.

We enjoyed the view for a while, took some pictures, and watched as the temple assistants strung strings around the chedi so people could attach bills as part of a special collection for charity.  Temple bells, prayers written on the copper clappers, chimed in the wind with a hundred different voices.

Staying in the shade as much as possible, we walked down Ratchadamnoen Avenue (the Champs Elysees of Khrungthep) past the Iron Pagoda, Democracy Monument, and October 1973 memorial, before catching a taxi to Wat Pho, the Temple of the Reclining Buddha.

Since it was already late in the afternoon, the crowds of tourists had gone and monks and laypeople were busy setting up the temple grounds for the Songkhran festivities. 

A pair of novices, aged about eighteen and ten, took a break from shoveling sand to shore up the poles holding the fluttering flags and were making sand sculptures. 

“What are you making?” I asked.  The older one traced a pair of eyes and patted a nose, answering, “The Lord Buddha”.  The younger one smiled as he worked on his mis-shappen hill.  “A chedi!” he responded, confident that his claim could not be disproven.

We continued on, visting the main statue hall where the 46-meter long Buddha in repose never fails to amaze, his serene expression inducing a similar response in most visitors. 

Dwarfed at his side, an artisan made repairs, carefully adding leaves of gold.  Working at no particular hurry, he added one small square after another to the Buddha’s right thigh.

Ignoring the touts and vendors outside the temple, we walked to the nearby pier and jumped aboard the next river taxi.  Dozens of tourists, afraid of missing their stop, stayed crowded at the rear of the boat.  We pushed forward towards the bow, where the crowds were thinner and the breeze more enjoyable.

We eventually made our way back to my condo for a quick chance to freshen up, and to give Stacy an opportunity to meet Tawn.  Then we were on our way via motorcycle taxi to meet Roka, Ken, Markus and Vic at a nearby Thai restaurant.  The motorcycle taxi was a bit of a cheap thrill for Stacy.

It made for a very pleasant end to the afternoon.  Unfortunately, Tawn did not join because he had dinner with his school friends.  After I finished dinner with my friends, I walked 100 meters down the street to the Chinese restaurant where Tawn was eating.  Their food was just arriving so I stayed and visited, although did not eat.  Pim had brought her daughter Tara with her, who was enjoying playing with her Uncle Tawn, below.