[Play] Playing With Tigers, Wrestling With Bears {Cut, 1 of 2}
For somewhere that's just had a military coup Thailand is far too chilled out; for me it was a box of marvels:
Despite a mad day at werk, fears because of the coup, an early fatality in the form of Matt needing to stay in Singapore for werk, flying into an international airport opened just that morning and a taxi driver who had no clue where things were, Wendy and I arrived at The Royal in the Banglamphu district of Bangkok in fine fettle on Thursday night. Pausing only to check in and drop bags, we wandered out into the heat of the evening and the hustle and bustle of Khao San Road - infamous for backpackers as a place to eat, drink and buy skimpy clothes
It's a loud and vibrant street, swarming at either end with tourist police, garishly coloured taxis and tuk-tuks and between said ends with hawkers and stalls and people from a hundred cities. Young travellers with old jaded eyes stride through narrow gaps between the sauntering old hippies with youthful laughing eyes, intermixed with oily Western men with either porn-star moustaches or over-young girls or both. Occassionally a fiercely pretty lass with nothing but a little black dress and a large Adam's apple pauses from looking sultry and smoking Malboros to eye up the crowd
We wander aimlessly, taking the measure of the place, and find a little local restaurant hidden at the top of four flights of stairs where there's a cover band practising U2 for a time. Generous portions of tom yamm, green curry and shredded crab curry. Beer comes in big bottles and then evening passes in commentary on the backpackers below
Early to rise o Friday, in habits ingrained by start of day checks and support calls, and meet Wendy for a far too Western breakfast whose theme of eggy bread and ham will continue the rest of the trip. On the recommendation of Christine, Rai and Linda we're off on an organised private tour and - we're lucky to find - with the same witty and friendly guide they had, Boo. Our tour is into the province of Kanchanaburi, a mix of cute furry things and sorrowful places filled with unquiet ghosts
Our first stop is Hellfire Pass Museum, on the site of one of the more notorious cuttings on the Burma-Thailand Death Railway. It is a quiet place, the museum respectful and informative without falling into rhetoric. Thoughtful and introspective we head into Konyu Cutting itself, which has a melancholy much like Glencoe. For me, the place is mournful and only a sharp edge from tranquility; for Wendy, it is the beaches of Dunkirk or Flanders - a central part of Australian schoolgirl history. We chat about nationality and humanity for a while, quietly though
After the pass - and a lunch filled with conversation on cameras and memories - we pause to feed a troupe of wild monkeys in a muddy clearing where they know tourists will come with nuts and fruit. We arrive as another group are leaving, the monkeys in plain view, and proceed to coax them to take food. After a time I have some of the younger members of the troupe eating out of my hand, literally, and brave enough to hold onto one of my fingers whilst they snatch at the honeyed crackers in my palm with the other. You can feel the strength in their fingers, but it is hidden beneath very soft skin
Eventually we depart and carry on to a cave near Whampo Viaduct, used as an air-raid shelter by the POWs forced to build the railway and now the site of a small shrine. Beneath the entrance to the cave is our first glimpse of the River Kwai Noi, far to peaceful and serene for it's past, and our route to the cave is along a still active portion of what was the Burma-Thailand Death Railway
Our next stop is perhaps the main reason for the trip: Wat Pa Luangta Bua Yannasampanno Forest Monastery, or the Tiger Temple. Primarily a Buddhist monastery the site is also an animal sanctuary with deer, water buffalo and wild pigs roaming free. It's main attraction is the pride of tigers they have raised from cubs however; whilst not roaming free the tigers are not permenantly caged and seem content to live in relative harmony with the monks. Wandering into their exercise canyon, tourists are separated from these marvellous creatures by a rope partition (to control the tourists more than anything else) and the fact that each beast is on a twelve foot chain. Believe me, this permits them significant freedom of movement. Tourists are ushered into the the roped-off area with a handler (for the tourists, not the tigers) who directs them where to sit, where they can stroke the tigers and - if needed - to whisk they out of harm's way
Crouching beside eight foot of sleet muscle and wiry fur is a priviledge; scratching the belly of the Lord of the Jungle is an honour; looking into their eyes with your hands feeling the breath in their throat is beyond words
*pause*
We walked back out of the canyon's shade suitably awed
Outside, in the shade of the trees, we were introduced to the newest 'donation' to the temple - an eight month old moon bear, named for the crescent on their chests. An orphan, the bear was in the care of one of the brother novices and eager to play. Everyone else was more inclined to photography so I wrestled with him, extremely glad he was playing when he nipped my calf; he seemed much more inclined to play once the crowd with cameras had left and when I rejoined Wendy and Boo they both had an 'Aww, bless'-pat-on-the-head kind of look!
Although I hope otherwise, I suspect the Tiger Temple will have to lose the intimacy with the tigers soon: it is becomming too popular to remain otherwise
Our final stop of the tour was the Bridge On The River Kwai. Like the Whampo Viaduct it seems at odds with it's history - too pretty for bombs and fire and POWs; too pleasant for torture and slavery. We walked across the bridge with a sense on unreality, the vortexes spinning off the bridges supports and the nearby rank on rank of headstones in Kanchanaburi War Cemetary the only echoes to the past
Scams and palaces to follow tomorrow night; in the meantime, photos
Catching up on LJ is suffering in the face of coursework, an iMac-rebuild, a plethora of emails and preparing to wander back to the UK on Friday
Point me at Stuff That Matters :)
Despite a mad day at werk, fears because of the coup, an early fatality in the form of Matt needing to stay in Singapore for werk, flying into an international airport opened just that morning and a taxi driver who had no clue where things were, Wendy and I arrived at The Royal in the Banglamphu district of Bangkok in fine fettle on Thursday night. Pausing only to check in and drop bags, we wandered out into the heat of the evening and the hustle and bustle of Khao San Road - infamous for backpackers as a place to eat, drink and buy skimpy clothes
It's a loud and vibrant street, swarming at either end with tourist police, garishly coloured taxis and tuk-tuks and between said ends with hawkers and stalls and people from a hundred cities. Young travellers with old jaded eyes stride through narrow gaps between the sauntering old hippies with youthful laughing eyes, intermixed with oily Western men with either porn-star moustaches or over-young girls or both. Occassionally a fiercely pretty lass with nothing but a little black dress and a large Adam's apple pauses from looking sultry and smoking Malboros to eye up the crowd
We wander aimlessly, taking the measure of the place, and find a little local restaurant hidden at the top of four flights of stairs where there's a cover band practising U2 for a time. Generous portions of tom yamm, green curry and shredded crab curry. Beer comes in big bottles and then evening passes in commentary on the backpackers below
Early to rise o Friday, in habits ingrained by start of day checks and support calls, and meet Wendy for a far too Western breakfast whose theme of eggy bread and ham will continue the rest of the trip. On the recommendation of Christine, Rai and Linda we're off on an organised private tour and - we're lucky to find - with the same witty and friendly guide they had, Boo. Our tour is into the province of Kanchanaburi, a mix of cute furry things and sorrowful places filled with unquiet ghosts
Our first stop is Hellfire Pass Museum, on the site of one of the more notorious cuttings on the Burma-Thailand Death Railway. It is a quiet place, the museum respectful and informative without falling into rhetoric. Thoughtful and introspective we head into Konyu Cutting itself, which has a melancholy much like Glencoe. For me, the place is mournful and only a sharp edge from tranquility; for Wendy, it is the beaches of Dunkirk or Flanders - a central part of Australian schoolgirl history. We chat about nationality and humanity for a while, quietly though
After the pass - and a lunch filled with conversation on cameras and memories - we pause to feed a troupe of wild monkeys in a muddy clearing where they know tourists will come with nuts and fruit. We arrive as another group are leaving, the monkeys in plain view, and proceed to coax them to take food. After a time I have some of the younger members of the troupe eating out of my hand, literally, and brave enough to hold onto one of my fingers whilst they snatch at the honeyed crackers in my palm with the other. You can feel the strength in their fingers, but it is hidden beneath very soft skin
Eventually we depart and carry on to a cave near Whampo Viaduct, used as an air-raid shelter by the POWs forced to build the railway and now the site of a small shrine. Beneath the entrance to the cave is our first glimpse of the River Kwai Noi, far to peaceful and serene for it's past, and our route to the cave is along a still active portion of what was the Burma-Thailand Death Railway
Our next stop is perhaps the main reason for the trip: Wat Pa Luangta Bua Yannasampanno Forest Monastery, or the Tiger Temple. Primarily a Buddhist monastery the site is also an animal sanctuary with deer, water buffalo and wild pigs roaming free. It's main attraction is the pride of tigers they have raised from cubs however; whilst not roaming free the tigers are not permenantly caged and seem content to live in relative harmony with the monks. Wandering into their exercise canyon, tourists are separated from these marvellous creatures by a rope partition (to control the tourists more than anything else) and the fact that each beast is on a twelve foot chain. Believe me, this permits them significant freedom of movement. Tourists are ushered into the the roped-off area with a handler (for the tourists, not the tigers) who directs them where to sit, where they can stroke the tigers and - if needed - to whisk they out of harm's way
Crouching beside eight foot of sleet muscle and wiry fur is a priviledge; scratching the belly of the Lord of the Jungle is an honour; looking into their eyes with your hands feeling the breath in their throat is beyond words
*pause*
We walked back out of the canyon's shade suitably awed
Outside, in the shade of the trees, we were introduced to the newest 'donation' to the temple - an eight month old moon bear, named for the crescent on their chests. An orphan, the bear was in the care of one of the brother novices and eager to play. Everyone else was more inclined to photography so I wrestled with him, extremely glad he was playing when he nipped my calf; he seemed much more inclined to play once the crowd with cameras had left and when I rejoined Wendy and Boo they both had an 'Aww, bless'-pat-on-the-head kind of look!
Although I hope otherwise, I suspect the Tiger Temple will have to lose the intimacy with the tigers soon: it is becomming too popular to remain otherwise
Our final stop of the tour was the Bridge On The River Kwai. Like the Whampo Viaduct it seems at odds with it's history - too pretty for bombs and fire and POWs; too pleasant for torture and slavery. We walked across the bridge with a sense on unreality, the vortexes spinning off the bridges supports and the nearby rank on rank of headstones in Kanchanaburi War Cemetary the only echoes to the past
Scams and palaces to follow tomorrow night; in the meantime, photos
Catching up on LJ is suffering in the face of coursework, an iMac-rebuild, a plethora of emails and preparing to wander back to the UK on Friday
Point me at Stuff That Matters :)