I was plastered to the bed. The Romans were trying to rouse me. I told them to go on without me and they did. I fell back into a nightmare in which the bed spun round and round and I was strangled by some invisible force.
When I finally dragged my dehydrated carcass of a body out of the bed it was almost noon. I took an extra-long shower and got locked out of the dorm with nothing but a towel round my waist. All because my key-card suddenly decided to stop working.
Thanks a lot Loyy!
Once I’d found some cleaners to let me in, I dressed and hit the streets of Chiang Mai. I was headed to the temple of Wat Suan Dok.
The temple of Wat Suan Dok was significantly greater than the first Buddhist temple I visited in Bangkok. It was a wide and airy hall with three buddhas positioned at the end. The first was slightly larger than a human and flanked by two other buddhas – both wearing armour. The pillars were decorated with what looked to be gold feathery flames. Studded blue jewels flashed and glittered against the gold.
After kneeling on the carpet, admiring the three great Buddhas and the numerous gifts and adornments in front of them, I noticed a monk sitting near the window. I immediately felt that I should try and speak to him, so I awkwardly approached and gave it my best shot.
I put my hands together and bowed my head in greeting. Apparently, your thumbs are supposed to touch the gap between your eyebrows. I completely fumbled it; I doubt if the guy even heard my half-hearted ‘Phra’.
The monk pointed down the road, indicating that I should go to the next building on. Not ten minutes later, I was seated at a table with three monks on my left. They were monks from Myanmar I was told. A Nepali guy sat opposite me. His name was Rahm, and he was an ex-monk. Rahm was a smooth-looking handsome chap with incredible hair. His face was friendly and eager and I quickly learned he had a genuine love of talking to and meeting new people. Next to Rahm sat Rahm’s mother who was visiting him from Nepal, though she spoke no English.
I told Rahm and the other monks I was from London and struggled desperately for something else to say. I should have had a tonne of questions. But I felt incredibly put upon and hadn’t felt this daunted since leaving the U.K.
Fortunately, Rahm had more than enough to say for himself. He was raised a Hindu in Nepal but transferred over to Buddhism and went to live in Chiang Mai. Buddhism is a part of Hinduism, Rahm explained. Therefore, transitioning wasn’t as radical or surprising as it may seem. He told me that Buddhism is not a religion but a philosophy.
I eventually managed to ask the monks about their daily routine, their anger management tactics and even learn a little Burmese from them. Myanmar is in the middle of a civil war. I tried to bring up the subject of its political situation with the Junta, however the Monks didn’t respond to me. Either they didn’t understand or they didn’t want to talk about it.
Jon Wan – the only monk whose name I can remember or pronounce – gets up at 6am, goes to the river to collect water, then returns to the temple and chants throughout the day. The older one, whose name completely escapes me, gets up at 5am to take care of the temple. I was quite surprised then, to discover that their favourite part of their routine is ‘watching YouTube videos and podcasts’.
In answer to my question about anger, the older one said to be quiet and not speak. To become like water. To speak when you are angry is to add wood to the fire, he said. To make the fire bigger. Be more like water, he told me. And Rahm told me the same. Although Rahm also told me that if you’re angry you can always get an object and bash it against the wall – not quite the answer I was expecting.
When our conversation finished, the monks told me they would be there again tomorrow. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing tomorrow.
I managed to strike up conversation with Rahm again outside, or maybe it was he who struck up conversation with me… He took me back round the temple of Wat Suan Dok, bombarding me with its history. He told me about its brother temple which sits up in the hills outside Chiang Mai, and even pointed it out to me, a tiny spec of light in the mountains. I loved how talkative Rahm was, but he talked so fast it was hard to hold on to what he was saying. I was hearing snippets of history I knew nothing about. A monarch called Kue Na and a dynasty known as the Mengrai. I feel like I need to read to crack open some Asian history books and read them cover to cover.
I walked with Rahm back to his restaurant – the only Nepali restaurant in Chiang Mai he told me. I already knew I was going to eat there. There was no coercion on his part. It simply felt right. Far from waving a menu in my face and trying to recommend me dishes, Rahm was giving me a rundown of the Hindu gods. And I only had time to look at the menu once he left me to my own devices.
I quickly opted for pork curry. It was salty and delicious, and came equipped with a plate of chilli spice which – after a risky taste – I mixed into the main body of my meal. Rahm’s restaurant is called Everest. There was no sign of Rahm when I was paying the bill but that won’t be the last I see of him – at least I hope so. I definitely want to return to Everest before I leave Chiang Mai.
I reunited with the Romans at the food stall from last night. They were just sitting down to their dinner. Caligula passed me a bottle of mead and we exchanged accounts of the day. Their quad bike outing had been much less of a safari than they’d expected, and they hadn’t really seen any animals. They all disagreed over who had been the fastest on the quad, and of course by asking the question, I had just created another argument.
E-Scooters and quad biking, that’s two road adventures I’ve managed to avoid. Operating vehicles – any type of vehicle – on the road is simply not something I’m comfortable with. But perhaps I ought to bring that to an end. Bring it firmly to an end…
