Day One: The Grand Palace, Wat Phra Kaew, Wat Saket, and Wat Suthat. Day Two: Wat Pho, and Wat Arun. Day Three: Caught a head cold. What better way to start the speedrun than taking the passenger ferry down the great and muddy Chao Phraya River? Damn. I look at these old photos from early 2015 and have to both laugh and cringe a bit at my younger self. How different I used to look! How chubby and sweaty. That unfortunate haircut and inelegant pose. What kind of a small boy, half-man, soft animal I was, both outside and within! Funny what the years can do to my perspectives on things... The Grand Palace and Wat Phra Kaew The Grand Palace: the official residence of the King of Siam. An organic jumble of halls, courtyards, pavilions, gardens, lawns. And an inorganic jumble of tourists, both foreign and Thai. But that aspect of the visit is easy enough to ignore. It's stunning. It's so bloody stunning. And as for Wat Phra Kaew, situated within the palace complex, it's the most sacred Buddhist temple in all of Thailand. Also commonly known as the Temple of the Emerald Buddha, Wat Phra Kaew houses a green gemstone Gautama that's considered the nation's most sacred image of the Enlightened One. Wat Saket Wat Saket. The Temple of the Golden Mount. A panoramic view from atop an 80-metre high artificial hill. It was a steep and winding 318-step climb, hence the photo of a damp and dumpy me posing against the hot and smoggy Bangkok cityscape. Wat Suthat Wat Suthat Thepwararam. Another elegant structure. Endless images of Buddha. The iconic Giant Swing stands in front of the temple, a towering and crimson gate-like structure. Come and enter, it says. Come and look further. Wat Pho Wat Phra Chetuphon Wimon Mangkhalaram Rajwaramahawihan, to give it its official title. What a great name! The Temple of the Reclining Buddha. 46-metres long goes its golden repose. There are 108 bronze alms bowls in the temple. Go ahead, grab some coins and drop them in. The sound rings sweetly and good fortune is sure to follow. Wat Arun Wat Arun Ratchawararam Ratchawaramahawihan. This is probably my favourite temple of the bunch, named for the Hindu god Aruna, charioteer of the Sun God Surya. Encrusted ceramic complexities. Dazzling architectural richness. Its structures spear into the pale, cloudless sky. Hours could be spent here, walking and gazing, gazing and walking. Its striking centrepoint spire, or 'prang', symbolises Mount Meru, the sacred peak of Hindu, Jain, and Buddhist cosmology and the nexus of the material, metaphysical, and spiritual realms. Climb up this tower of porcelain puzzle pieces. Don't be shy. Climb up it and take in the wide and languid Chao Phraya. It's not quite the apex of the multiverse one might hope for in a Mount Meru, but at least the electric rush of Bangkok seems to fade away from this vantage point. If only for a few moments.
0 Comments
George Town, Penang I arrived on Penang Island, off the west coast of the Malaysian Peninsular, by a clunky old ferry in late 2019. My first stop was Penang's capital of George Town, named after King George III back when the island was controlled by the East India Company. It was the first-ever British settlement in Southeast Asia and that colonial legacy is certainly still visible. But these days, Penang is more famous for its generous splash of both colour and gastronomy. It's affordable. The food's great. It feels safe and secure. And while it's touristy, it's not obnoxiously so. What's not to love? A painfully common cliche is to describe a location as a melting pot. But with George Town, I have to be frank: this city is a goddamn melting pot. It positively sizzles, in fact. The general architecture is eclectic. The cultural and religious aesthetics are heterogeneous. The street food is wildly and deliciously diverse. You can't walk down around the corner without seeing a confident commingling of Chinese, Malay, and Indian influences, among many others. The Clan Jetties Now for a change in perspectives. Just slightly adjacent to George Town are the Clan Jetties, a group of stilt villages founded by 19th-century Chinese immigrants. And many of these clans still live and work here. It looks picturesque at high tide, with its rustic stilt houses. Come low tide, however, it looks (and smells) like a classic example of slummy, developing country squalor. I generally have quite a high tolerance for stuff like this (e.g. open greywater gutters, trash piles festering on the roadside, open-air restaurants next to truck fumes, rats the size of small cats) and have seen much worse examples outside of Malaysia, but others might find it less bearable. Penang Hill One morning, I decided to take an exhausting hike to the top of Penang Hill where I spotted snakes, monkeys, giant millipedes, and the chunkiest ants I’d ever seen in my life. After a while, I emerged from the bush like a sweaty, delirious wild man onto a very touristy hilltop. Everyone else either drove or took the funicular to the top like respectable members of society. Such is the way I like to do things sometimes. I refuse to regret it. Penang National Park I also did a much less exhausting hike the following day through Penang National Park to Turtle Beach. After my killer Penang Hill hike, I permitted myself to be a bit lazy and took a bumpy boat ride back to the park entrance. Kek Lok Si Temple Now, I’ve been to a few Buddhist temples in my life (as well as previous lifetimes) but this is quite possibly the largest complex I’ve ever visited. It’s so large you need to take a funicular to see the temple’s incredible, 36-metre high bronze statue of Guanyin, the so-called “Goddess of Mercy”. The Cheong Fatt Tze Mansion and Pinang Peranakan Mansion There are two famous historic mansions in Penang: the deep blue Cheong Fatt Tze Mansion and the gentle green Pinang Peranakan Mansion. While the bluey former was pleasant (and a filming location for Crazy Rich Asians, not that particularly care for that grossly overrated flick), it woefully pales in comparison to the splendour of the green-hued latter. The Peranakans are a distinct multiracial ethnic group with Southern Chinese heritage and were, during the colonial period, an elite community in Malaysia. And the Pinang Peranakan Mansion is a stunning showcase of this prosperity. It houses a vast collection of items from the upper crust of Peranakan society. The best furniture. The fanciest ceramics and glassware. The swankiest clothes. The sparkliest watches and jewellery. Fun fact: during my visit to the Pinang Peranakan Mansion, I met an American gentleman who told me that he was in Penang to buy antique opium paraphernalia and erotic ceramics. Apparently, there's a good collectors market for that sort of stuff in George Town. So now you know. Doors of George Town I briefly considered doing a more extensive “doors of Penang” photo album but got bored a few minutes into the attempt and gave up. Touristy street art of George Town Ditto with a “touristy street art of Penang” photo album. "Gorge town" Now for the obligatory food remarks:
Epilogue Ah, yes. The awkwardness of eating alone in a nearly empty food court in Penang. You’re here because Anthony Bourdain ate here. You’re partly in Penang because you liked that episode where he came here. You plan on eating at many of the George Town restaurants Bourdain ate at. Because he was cool and you are not. Well, guess what you uncool idiot. He also probably ate mouldy leftover burgers while deep into a methadone program. Is that something you want? The beer arrives like minor salvation. Finally, something to do: get drunk in the syrupy, malaise-mongering heat while the overhead fans nuzzle your back. You’re not even nursing your beer, you’re slamming it like a speakeasy regular with burnt-out eyes. You see a thin blonde with a strawberry smoothie half her size. Probably an influencer. You watch a stocky white man order a bucket of Tiger beers all for himself. Also probably an influencer. You’re not even a normal person who follows the pied piper of social media. You’re following old-school television recommendations like a Neanderthal. Oh, look. A baby cockroach just scuttled across the tabletop and sipped on some of the beer you spilt. A curious sesame seed with antennae. Wonder if it’ll get as drunk as me tonight? And feel as goddamn awkward. Shit. Now a large Malaysian Chinese family with children have settled at the tables around you. Why did they have to flank you when there are so many other empty tables? And now you find the place too busy. And bad Christmas jingles are playing over the speakers. Too many patrons! Too much humanity! When will this constant tension, the inexorable forces of aversion and craving, end? Time to make your choice. Get up and order some chicken skewers. It’s better than nothing.
|
AuthorMing is an economist, traveller, and creative writer from Melbourne, Australia. He’s a nebulous collection of particles on the lookout for a good corner to sit with a book and a cup of coffee. Archives
September 2023
Categories
All
|