The Durian Apocalypse

Ed. note: Looks as though the Internet situation here in Chanthaburi will be very not good. So, the footages I’d intended to share with this post will have to be delayed to a later time. Please thus ignore, or place on hold, all references to same.

Update: Internet situation not as dire as initially supposed; vids now embedded below!

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In Chanthaburi now, following two 4.5-hour bus rides and a 15-hour train ride. The latter actually left Chiang Mai two minutes early, and arrived in Bangkok only about fifteen minutes late – both to my great shock. Maybe there’s something to the old Fascists-making-the-trains-run-on-time wives’ tale after all!

Very sad to leave Northern Thailand — and its Mangoes, Lychees, and Watermelons — behind. (Since my last correspondence, the Mangoes have re-achieved, or nearly so, their former glory.) Of course, to replace them with Durians, Mangosteens, and Longkongs – not such a bad trade. Mangosteens are a bit pricier and less abundant than they ought to be for this region and this time of year (presumably owing to the unusually hot/dry conditions); but, Lord have mercy, are they fucking great!

A few more Chiang Mai notes, to begin. Firstly, some more funny signage.

Well, I guess the second one’s more cool than it is funny. This one is from day two of the City Pillar Festival:

Also, did manage to get some nice shots of the temple all lit up at night. (Can never keep straight the names of the various structures on the temple grounds. I think the main prayer hall is called the “Ubosot”.)

I know I keep going on and on about how gorgeous Chiang Mai’s temples are, but it really is true. Chedi Luang, the site of the Pillar Festival, is near the head of the class. Even the ancient, Khmer-style temple on the grounds is a knockout.

How to learn Buddhism? Well, for one, be ready to sweep away the water after a mid-Afternoon rain squall.

The second day was much like the first, but without the pomp and pageantry of the parade. Here’s a bit of the goings-on over at the Pillar itself. Mostly, I just like the pretty chantings of the monks.

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There was also a traditional dance program in the evening. Only took a little bit of footage, as I just can’t get into dance routines set to canned music. But, here’re a few seconds, for a little taste.

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So, that was Chiang Mai. Now, boy, if you wanna experience Northern Thai lifestyle, up in the mountains and away from the tourist throngs, skip Pai outright and head up to Mae Sai instead! (Kind of ironic, given that there are loads of tourists using the easy fifteen-dollar/out-in/no-visa entry into Burma to load up on thirty more days visa-free in Thailand. But…they leave the actual town to its own devices.)

Mae Saiians are possibly the friendliest of all Thai townsfolk – and that’s saying a lot. The mountains are beautiful. There’s a nice, peaceful little park down by the river. The motorcycles, while still annoying, are much less burdensome than in Chiang Mai or Pai. There are hiking opportunities. Massive storms roll in in the evenings. The Night Market is every bit as good as Chiang Rai’s or Pai’s. The Lychees are bumping. What’s not to love?

First evening there, went up the mountain to visit the Scorpion Temple. Where do these two rank in the list of World’s Longest Naga, I wonder?

Here’s the eponymous scorpion monument.

And some cool/weird Prayer Balls (or what).

Very peaceful up here (unless you don’t fancy the Cicadas’ call), with an incredible view.

Had intended to check out this Cemetery on the Burmese side, but then it totally slipped my mind.

Unfortunately, the mosquitoes began showing their stoopid faces, forcing me to beat a hasty retreat before I was ready to do. May’ve stayed up there all night otherwise, such was the enchanting nature of the surroundings!

Next morning, made the run into Tachileik to have a look around. There’s a very sleazy Border Market right as you enter; you can’t even beat the cigarette/Viagra/prostitute sellers away with a stick. At one point, three of them had me surrounded, and I held up my arms in a big X screaming, “You guys are crazy!”

One of them took offense, and spat back, “You are crazy!” But, they left me alone after that.

I dunno. I wasn’t so enamoured of Tachileik – though the temples are both numerous and impressive.

Wow, check out the drop-dead gorgeous chanting from the lady novices. Would’ve taken much more footage, but kind of had the feeling that they preferred me not to do so.

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If for no other reason than having briefly checked out a few of the temples, and having heard that chanting, I’m even more excited to visit Burma than I already had been. Stoked, too, that they’ve relaxed the land-entry rules somewhat, now allowing onward passage via Thailand.

By the way, the Burmese script is even more curvilinear than the Thai.

After lunch, returned to the Guest House to grab my headlamp, as there was a cave I wanted to visit. Ended up chatting for a while with the very friendly/helpful American expat running the place – and before long, the chat turned into an hour-long knock-down drag-out. Well, let’s just say we don’t exactly see eye to eye in re the merits of U.S. Foreign Policy. He does agree, however, that Mother Nature will exact her revenge, but soon, upon Humankind for its profligate ways.

So, up to yet another Mountain Temple. This one with not only the aforementioned cave, but also another Big White Buddha. Here he is as seen from the Scorpion Temple.

From the temple, a road leads up the hill towards the Buddha. There’s a fork, with a sign pointing onward.

Problem is, the two forks head in the same direction, except that one goes up and the other down. I just assumed that the former would lead to the Buddha, so up I went. And up, and up, and up. Very steep, very hot.

A scorpion crossed my path, answering the question I’d neglected to ask back at the Guest House. That kinda put the fear of god into me, considering that I was walking along barefoot, more less absentmindedly enjoying the jungle views and sounds. (Super-loud Cicadas here – even louder than at the Temples Of Angkor.)

Shortly after that, I began to suspect that this “Big Buddha On The Mountain” was some kind of Thai Snipe Hunt they liked to pull upon unsuspecting Farang. Sure enough, after having lost about thirty gigas’ worth of sweat, I got all the way up to the top — which was nothing but a little shack and a dude inside watching teevee.

He told me that to get to the Buddha, I needed to go back down and take the road to the left. I’d have liked to have roamed around the ridge-top for a bit, as the view was quite lovely. But it seemed he was somewhat eager for me to be on my way – though he was very friendly about it, and all; even offered me a cup of water.

Turned out, there were many roads to the left, all the way down the hill. They all led, after a couple hundred metres, to more little shacks; these ones all with monks’ robes hanging out on the front porch to dry.

Back down at the original fork, to the path leading down, which after a bit turned upward for a steep, short climb, which, within five minutes’ time, had me looking him in the eye.

Now I don’t know about you, but I’d hate to be the one who has to go in there and clean out his massive turds every day.

Well, I guess when you’re Low-Monk-On-The-Totem-Pole…

It was nice up here, but I personally preferred the ambiance of the Scorpion Temple. Anyhow, went back down to visit the cave — whose entrance was, unfortunately, locked…

Possibly for the best that the cave was closed; as it was just about this time that the clouds started to make their presence known. I’d just enough time to head down into town and over to the Night Market to grab a Watermelon to take back to the park and eat while the storm began to grow closer and closer. It was gonna be a good one!

And just as the rain finally arrived and pelting, some kids showed up in scooters to take shelter in my same Pagoda, ruining my little Nature Moment that I’d thought I was going to have. It turned out, though, that they were highly entertaining.

They were taking it in turns riding around on this ridiculously tiny pink skateboard, and trying to teach me some Thai words, and showing me their tattoos, and generally making mirth. Two of them were genuinely afeared of thunder, hitting the deck and cowering – bringing gales of laughter from myself and the other kids — whenever a particularly nearby lighting bolt would flash.

Eventually, I asked if I could take their picture…

…and then they commandeered my camera and took a bunch more.

On the bus back to Chiang Mai, I was seated next to an older Thai lady who spoke pretty good English. She peppered me with all the usual questions about my travels, and life back in the States, and I waxed far too enthusiastically about the glories of the Thai Mango.

Had enough time, in Chiang Mai, to scarf down a bunch more of the same, then score some Lychees and Cucumbers to eat on the train, and we were off. Always forget how nice that Northern portion of the ride is. It’s too bad the train doesn’t leave an hour or two earlier, to allow more daylight time to take it in.

In Bangkok, hopped onto the Skytrain right to the bus station, went to take a leak and then get my ticket to Chanthaburi, with the conductor urging me to hurry my dimpled ass up, or I was a-gonna get left behind. Talk about a short layover!

Was hardly in Chanthaburi for half a frickin’ hour, when I was spotted by some fellow fruit-eaters and fell in with them. Ah, Chanthaburi’s lousy with us freaks this time of year.

Part I: Welcome To The Jungle

[dc]T[/dc]he road from Chiang Mai to Pai, boasting 672 curves, was the most quease-inducing ride since the Luang Prabang to Phonsavanh bus. Thankfully, it was only half as long as that one. I must say, however, that it may have been worse. I’m getting cross-eyed now, just thinking about it. But, the old rule of thumb came in handy yet again: never ever, ever eat breakfast the day of a mountainside bus passage.

Pai is a very small village with an delightful view of mountains on all sides. About ten years ago, it was discovered by the hippies, and the tourist boom was on. There are now two streets in town. The one, for the tourists, is filled up with Guest Houses, Restaurants, and Travel Agencies. The other, for the locals, is filled up with hardware stores and such.

It’s a nice, chill, laid-back environment. But…it’s also a Hell-hole: completely and totally infested with motorcycles. Both the locals and the tourists use them for transport of even the slightest distance; and there is not a single location in town from which to escape the ear-splitting din. Even my guest house — which promised a peaceful country environment away from the town – was within earshot of the damned things (not to mention of farmers’ tractors’ own caterwauling roar).

Recommendation: stay the FUCK away from Pai.

But if one does find oneself stuck there for a day or three, it’s possible to escape the noise. A few days reaching only into the mid-90s rather than triple-digits gave an opportunity to get out and do some hiking. OSM was showing a trailhead quite near my Guest House, so I went to have a look. Arriving to the location was a road, not a trail. But there didn’t seem to be any motorcycles using it, so for that reason alone it seemed worth a try.

A fine little walk beside an aquaduct, and past many Guest Houses. Eventually the road became a lane, then a dirt road, then a broad trail, then a narrow trail, then a rice-paddy trail. And, finally, after a ford in the river, it plunged right into the jungle canopy, and on up into the hills.

A beautiful and very peaceful two hours’ respite from the motorised terror.

Got about three-quarters of the way to the end of the trail, and decided to turn around as it was becoming a bit too overgrown and (literally) nettlesome. Then, back down at the ford, passed a couple on the way up, who asked me if it was the right way to the waterfall. I didn’t know about this!, I explained, but guessed (and later confirmed) that they were probably right. Oh, well.

Wanted to check out this big white Buddha up the mountain a little ways out of town…

…and which appeared to be in the general vicinity. The road did, indeed, lead to the mountain temple.

While I didn’t notice anybody taking the car, everybody did take the motorcycle, the lazy fucks. Only other exception was a nice German fellow — his accent was so similar-sounding to Werner Herzog’s, that I wondered was he not Bavarian? No, but from right next door, he allowed — who complained that his wife and daughter just wanted to sit around all day doing nothing, so he decided to go stretching his legs. Up we went.

The weird thing was, while a fair number of tourists did ride up to the temple, shockingly few of them elected to make the additional 500 metre climb on up to the BIg Image Of Buddha.

The Buddha is actually not quite yet finished…

…which may be why it doesn’t seem to be listed anywhere in Cool Shit To See In Pai directories. A fun great Buddha! Plopped down right in the middle of the jungle, visited by only a few, it’s a very relaxing setting.

Must here wonder whether there’s a Buddha in existence privileged to witness a better view than this one has?

It’s a good thing, though, that they painted his dimpled ass white, ‘cause the way the sun broils down upon this location, sumbitch is a-gonna need all the albedo he can get!

By the way, best part about being in the tropics? It might well be the enormous/beautiful leaves.

Next day, made a fourteen-mile round-trip to the Mor Paeng waterfall. Had been led to believe that this would be mostly a trailside hike; but turned out that, save for a couple-mile side-hike up to a nice viewpoint…

…it was all on the road. Fuck. Well, at least the views were nice. Can you spot the butterfly in this first shot? Sucker’s very well camouflaged!

Best of all, it was Lychee-tree central all up in this area. And they were groaning with fruit.

Couldn’t help munching down a few overhanging pieces. Yowee! Hadn’t eaten straight-from-the-tree Lychee since way back on the farm. Daresay, ain’t much in this world can compare to straight-from-the-tree Lychee. Despite the sweltering heat, the people out harvesting seemed to be in a jovial mood.

The jakfruit trees were burdened as well.

The waterfall is actually nothing special. It’s really just used as a swimming hole for the local kids – they divert the water to slick the rock-face up real good one, and then use it as a waterslide.

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Given my history with slippery surfaces, there was no way in twenty that you’d find my dimpled ass clambering up that wall. In point of fact, a tourist cracked his head and died there last year. It’s no wonder they tell you to “Waterfall With Caution”!

It does look like fun, though.

Apart from the hiking, and the uber-delicious and uber-cheap Lychees, I can acknowledge that Pai has got some great signage – some of ‘em humorous, some of ‘em artistic-like.

Oh, and one thing more: Hear me now, and believe me one thousand times over, little tiny Pai is the Avocado capital of Southeast Asia. There was only one vendor selling them, and the seeds were overlarge. But they were cheap, ripe, and delicious. So if you need Avos, strap on your earplugs, and get your dimpled ass to Pai.

From Pai, the road continues on to the village of Mae Hong Song, near the Burmese frontier, before looping around back to Chiang Mai via Mae Sariang. As the former had recently distinguished itself by rocking out the country’s hottest temps on a few occasions, I decided to just head back to Chiang Mai instead.

The ride didn’t seem as bad to me as had been the outbound trip, though the driver was clearly a maniac. Must’ve just been me, though: I only noticed one person losing their stomach on the way out, while on the way back, it was a Barf-O-Rama all around me (including by some kids).

My reasoning paid off well, returning to a nice, cool ninety-seven degrees yesterday – a new record for the date. To-day, Sunday, was hotter still.

Worse yet, the Mangoes’ quality has taken a nosedive. They’re still available in spades, and still very cheap. But, while certainly still edible, the quality is not in the same ZIP Code as it had been just a few days before. If they are indeed on the wane, ‘tis a pity. But that was a truly unforgettable week of Mangoism. Has already got me looking forward to visiting India (where it’s not Durian, but Mango, which is considered the King Of Fruit).

Part II: Banana Republic?

[dc]S[/dc]o, how’s life under the Junta? Well…I think I saw a military man yesterday. Could’ve been a, like, bank Security Guard, though. Not sure. Did read an article in which some Israeli tourists lamented that they were probably going to leave Bangkok – not because they felt at all unsafe, but because the 10:00 PM curfew was adversely affecting their partyings. Was hoping that the Baht might drop down to thirty-five or forty to the Dollar – but she seems to be holding steady at thirty-two-point-five.

As for the Thais: if you think trivialities such as coups d’etat or hundred-degree temps are going to get in the way of their Festivalism, think again.

To-day was the official opening (though lots o’ stuff was up and running last night) of the weeklong City Pillar Festival, Inthakin. (Huhn, Wikipedia had the dates for this year wrong. Just made my first edit in many a moon to correct the error…) The Pillar dates from 1296 (!), and this is the festival to honour the city’s founding. To describe the Festival in a three words: Only in Thailand.

After only one full day, this is easily my favourite Asian Festival/Holiday since the 2012 Chinese New Year celebration in Bangkok. The Festival is situated on the grounds of Wat Chedi Luang – the site, since 1800, of the Pillar – and the surrounding street, which was blocked off to traffic.

Well, if it’s Thailand, and it’s a festival, it means street-food as far as the eye can see. But, of course, festival street-food is even wilder and crazier than the bewilderingly diverse offerings for sale each day in the cities’ many, many Street Markets. The desserts, especially, feature prominently at festival time.

Also, the signs – okay, banners — are much more elaborate.

Okay, here’s to it. An all-too-brisk, though none the less fascinating, stroll down the Food Row.

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And remember: that’s only the half of it. The other side of the street was, if anything, even weirder and more outre than this. And that doesn’t include the tables and chairs down the middle – a people-watching extravaganza. Plus, there was a whole other slew of vendors inside the temple grounds.

Also, down a little side alley – anybody else find this little loop hypnotically compelling? If the last word is “alloy” (seems to be), that’s Thai for “delicious”. So, presumably this is a description of his frosty concoction.

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The day’s primary points of order seemed to be, first, the Parade. An almost endless procession of colours and sounds…

…it appeared to be a troupe from each village in the District performing their ways down the street and on into the temple grounds.

The ladies were in charge of the dancing…

…and the joie de vivre…

…while the Gents took care of the musics.

Dig that Trad Thai Skronk, bay-bee!

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The few tourists on hand looked, for the most part, befuddled.

But save for one village – whose ladies were sourpussed right down the line…

…the mood was merry and gay. Afterward, performers rubbed elbows and chowed on down alongside ever’body else.

As did the Novices.

The other order of the day was the giving of offerings. So, some shrines were drug out onto the temple grounds…

…while the chandeliers inside were lit up bright (for the first time that I’ve ever seen). The Buddha looked particularly great, here – though I was unable to coax my camera into finding a satisfying representation of the light and colour.

This one Buddha in front of the temple (I think it’s maybe the most important Buddha in the city)…

…was all after getting pelted from below with flowers and water, poor guy.

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Call these goings-on opportunistical if you must – the purpose of the Festival is to “invoke blessings of peace, happiness, and prosperity for the city and its residents” – but it can’t be denied that Chiang Mai’s temples are hallowed spaces of incredible beauty and intense spirituality. Watching these simple acts, and hearing the wonderful music which accompanies, it’s easy for oneself to feel the tidal pull as well.

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But if you thought that music sounded wonderful, check this little girl, hammering out an absolutely mesmerising tune, somehow unnoticed by the passersby. This was, for me, the show-stopping highlight of the day’s activities.

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Not quite in her league, this dude was, I think, attempting to earn money for school.

So ended (my time at) the first day of the Festival.

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It’s not at all difficult, at times, to feel cynical about Thailand, apparently dead-set upon squandering its unbelievably bounteous natural endowments with rivers of plastic bags, plastic bottles, plastic doo-dads, and plastic surgeries; and oceans of traffic bringing deafening industrial clatter and wretched fumes of automobile exhaust. After many months traveling herein, one or two farang may possibly have even been of the mind that Thailand either has jumped, or is in the processing of jumping, that proverbial shark (but only after grabbing its fin to make soup with).

But then, it wins you over yet again, with its scenes of utterly wonderful beauty and camaraderie to go along with its innocent-if-completely-haywire over-the-top weirdness.

Hey, I’m the last person who’s gonna stump for a military dictatorship. But from where I’m sitting, John Kerry’s two-bit moralistic whining feels pitiful and ill-informed (er, just like everything else that ever comes out of his mouth…).

Yes, Thailand will be forced to deal with its ecological and economic contradictions just as surely as will the rest of Asia and the World at large. But it’s a culture that has persisted for century upon century. Ultimately, the Men With Guns will be required to conform to Thai culture, not the other way around.

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As for myself, I’m off to Mae Sai. On account of Chanthaburi’s having been postponed by a week, I gots to make a Border Run. Mae Sai will be more out-of-the-way (a nine-hour round-trip) than Poipet would have been. But the cost will end up being about the same, I’ll save a page in my Passport, and I won’t have to deal with the unmitigated nightmare that is the Poipet crossing – including that the interminably slow-moving line to re-enter Thailand from there might just, in this heat, be more than the body could bear.

Penultimate day in Nepal, I got my dimpled ass out of bed early, and made the one-hour walk to the Monkey Temple. At the bottom, a pretty good street band, rakin’ in the cash.

The temple itself is at the top of a mountain, up about a gazillion steps — Nepalis really love you make to climb up stairs to see the good cool sights! These ones were the worst, though, because the individual steps were inclined. You wouldn’t think that that would make it so much more difficult, but in fact, it does do.

Plus which, it was actually my second time making this climb. The first time, about a week earlier, I’d clumb all the god damned way up there, and at the very top there’s a ticket-seller booth, charging a 200 Rupee entrance fee. I’m still wanting to maintain my pretty strict policy of not paying to enter temples, so I elected to turn around and head back down. Seeing this, the dude frantically tried to wave me through without my paying; and another guest stopped me and pleaded, “Sir…you’d better go!”

But I said I didn’t want to upset the Apple Cart, and continued on back down. But then, practically every day, over the course of the next week, somebody at the hostel told me they’d gone to the Monkey Temple that day, and had just loved the shit out of it. And over that week, I’d fallen in love with Kathmandu’s temples more generally. So, up I went again, this time forking over the 200 Rupees without even trying to call their bluff and get in for free.

Right when you get in, there’s a performance space there, which at the moment had a choir busting a move. The second clip here is actually a the conclusion of the first clip’s song. Had stopped recording ‘cause it seemed it was going on for a while, but when the dude opened up upon the conch shell, I felt compelled to record some more…

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When one is walking around in Kathmandu, it feels more like a medium-sized city. But from up here top of the mountain, you can see that it’s truly massive. Seems to go on for ever and ever.

The temple complex here sprawls over a huge area as well; with religious sites and shoppes and guest houses and restaurants and those selling materials for offerings all jammed into nooks and corners around and about. There’s plenty of open space as well.

The main attractions, in addition to the monkeys, always watching, waiting…

…are the big stupa right at the entrance, with its million-and-one Prayer Wheels the pilgrims must each set spinning during their circumambulations…

…and this one small Buddha image locked away in a cage. Late in the morning, they opened it up for viewing, and a huge long line formed. At the head of the line were required not one but two security guards to keep people from camping out in front of the Buddha all the day long. …And also, to make sure there weren’t any jackassed tourists taking photos.

I got busted for attempting the latter (only noticed the signs afterward); but, really, this Buddha wasn’t so special anyway. But, here to tell you, this place is a treasure trove of sublime imagery.

Every time you turn around, there’s something like the above to set your eyes reeling. The ears, however, received the gyp-off:

How long you think that room’s been closed to the public? Fifty years? (Fucking would have loved to hear that, too.) Well, this Buddha image…

…dates from the seventh century.

And you just walk around for hours and hours, just marveling at all the cool shit to see.

And if this next shot looks exactly like out of Norman Rockwell, know that there are no photo-processing effects here: this is exactly how it looked to the naked eye.

And always the monkeys are watching, waiting…

People-watching is great, too, natch. From the ladies in their wicked-cool outfits…

…to the goofy faux-Holy Men camped out right next to the Ice Cream Cone salesmen…

…to the dudes rushing by holding aloft big flaming bowls (believe me, this looked amazing from up close – but they were going too fast to get a good camera-angle of)…

…to the little girl in her Sunday Best, checking out this fine string band that had taken up residence near the stupa.

Many of the Buddhas are locked away behind cages or plexiglass. This can be frustrating; but also, it can lead to some great photo-ops, set up, for examples, by unexpectedly gorgeous framings…

…or cool, multiple-exposure-esque reflections.

This same Buddha from above offered the ultimate, most appropriate (presumably unintentional) commentary upon the nature of religion that one is ever gonna see.

Cut, print, wrap. That’s all you need to know, right there.

Oh, and also: you need to know that wherever you go up here, the monkeys will be there, too. Watching…

Waiting…

Verdict: the Monkey Temple is not only worth the entrance fee, it’s almost certainly the most awesomest place in a city chock to the frigging block full of fucking awesome places.

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On my last day in Nepal, I figured I’d get my dimpled ass out of bed about 6:00 in the AM, and hoof it over to Boudhanath, which was about an hour’s walk in the opposite direction as the Monkey Temple. But an Israeli hostel-mate name of “Yael” asked me to share a cab with her, ‘cause there was a ceremony there every day, beginning at 6:00 AM.

I said okay. But then, there were like six people, all from the same dorm, making plans to go there the next day as well. And they had heard that the ceremony ends at 6:00 in the AM, so if you wanna see it, you needs must arrive at 5:00 in the AM. Which, they were all planning to get their dimpled asses out of bed at 4:30 in the AM, and cab it on over there. There was a Dutchwoman very keen on doing so, and she promised to make sure that nobody in the dorm pansied out and slept their lazy ass in instead.

Anyways, so Yael and myself both had our dimpled asses up out of bed at 4:30 in the AM, and got a cab over to Boudanath. We were surprised not to have seen any of the peeps from the other dorm. So, we got dropped off, paid the fare, and had been there for a half-hour or so, and we bumped into one of them, an Israeli name of “Nitzan”.

He related that he’d set his alarm, and that he’d gone and woken up the Dutchwoman, whom, he said, had told him to go ahead and go fuck himself. As, apparently, had all his other dormmates. So, he’d gotten a cab out there by himself. Too bad we’d missed him – could’ve saved us 100 Rupees off the fare, and saved him 500 Rupees off the fare.

Anyhow, so Boudhanath is the largest stupa in South Asia, and another World Heritage site. Let’s see if one can get a feel of the enormity of this sucker, just from some measly photos?

Well, probably not. But it is. Also, you can see that there are an assload of pigeons here as well.

That’s ‘cause, just like at Dhurbar Square, people are feeding them as though their lives depend up on it. (According to Yael’s guidebook, Hindus believe that feeding animals is pious behaviour. This is a Buddhist site; but there seems to be a fair amount of cross-pollination between the two religions, here.)

But guess what? Apart from maybe lighting a few candles…

…there was no fuckin’ ceremony! Loads of people there, to be sure. Like, already when we arrived at 5:00 in the AM, there were plenty. But an hour or so later, they were swarming the place.

It takes about ten minutes’ time to make one circumambulation; and you’ve gotta do three per day, I think. So, but, we never needed to get our dimpled asses up at 4:30 in the AM in the first fuckin’ place. Well, whatever. It was still pretty cool.

After, we went down to Pashupatinath, yet another World Heritage site, about half an hour’s walk away. There’re a couple of nice, small temples there.

And there are some wooded and grassy areas to walk around in. But the restricted area is a thousand Rupees to enter. It’s two very important Hindu temples – but non-Hindus are refused entrance, even having paid the 1,000 Rupees. Also, the cremation ceremonies happen inside the gates.

Yael and Nitzan ponied up the entrance fee – the former only after much convincing by the latter. I refused to pay, and walked back into town. Yael later said that she’d found the cremations disturbing – like barging in upon somebody’s private business. But Nitzan said that he’d found them quite interesting. If you’re curious, here’s a video somebody shot,  with an explanation of the ceremony.

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And that’s it for Nepal. So much more that I want to see there, even apart from doing more trekking. Super excited to get my dimpled ass right back. Can’t possibly recommend it highly enough.

In case you missed ‘em:

• Brilliant new post, “Scorecard”, from Steve Ludlum at Economic Undertow.
• Also a very good recent podcast with Steve, in which he lays in, but good, to the folly of the “Waste-Based Economy”.
• Guy McPherson interviewed by some heavy-hitters recently: audio, by Derrick Jensen; and video, by Thom Hartmann. In both, discussing the latest Climate Change news.

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News From Bangkok

News From Chiang Mai

Boy, am I glad my name ain’t “Ron”! (Hold your applause ‘til the very end, please.)

The Lychee Mongers down at the park are almost in full swing. It’s a whole line of vendors selling only Lychees, of varying grades. As of a few days ago, the metal frame for their awning/tent structure had been erected. Soon after, the tarps went up. Then the stall infrastructure. By yesterday, lots of ‘em were ready to go, waiting for their product. One vendor had even begun selling. Lychee season about to go into mothafuckin’ overdrive!

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It’s easy enough to be disdainful of Kathmandu’s temples – especially having witnessed first-hand e.g. the jaw-dropping beauty of those here in Chiang Mai, the bombast of those in Bangkok, the surreal weirdness of those in George Town, and of course the overwhelming scale and artistry of the Temples Of Angkor.

Kathmandu’s almost seem like an afterthought: dilapidated, defaced, nothing-special architecture, just jammed into the middle of the block (or even buried back in courtyard behind a street’s shoppes). They’re easy to miss altogether, as many are just quite small.

I mean, how would you like it if you were a goddam religious sculpture, and your face was all bashed in and covered in birdshit?

Or you were a goddam stupa, and somebody had written graffiti on the wall right behind you?

Or you were a beautiful little carving, and people’d rubbed red dye all over your face, and jammed a bunch of crap into your mouth?

You might think you’d gotten the pointy end of the shaft.

But the truth (or at least, one blogger’s estimation) is, the red/orange colourings make the carving and sculptures much more interesting and more aesthetically pleasing…

…While the general lack of respect makes the spaces feel more terrestrial, less hallowed. For those of us who consider Religion the more dangerous the more seriously it’s taken, this last is a welcome sight indeed.

This piece, for instance, was located off in a forgotten corner of a nothing temple far away from the hubbub of Thamel or the busy market areas or the famous World Heritage sites. Maybe, if it were all polished up and sitting in a museum, it would seem slight. But here, in its specific environs, it seems like practically the neatest thing ever.

Besides, having bird shit on you means having birds themselves on you. And that makes you look way the more awesome.

Anyway, the craftsmanship is undeniably gorgeous, no matter how battered and bruised, weathered and worn, downtrodden and demoralised it may be.

Anyway, it’s just cool: The architecture…

…the freaky/strange imagery…

…the juxtaposition with everyday surroundings…

…the trees invading the shrines’ spaces, and then being incorporated into the designs…

…All so frickin’ badass!

One neighbourhood temple worth seeking out is Bhatbateni. Just a small little nothing at the corner of a busy intersection. Walking around the outside are a bunch of great little mural pieces. I had read that some of the artwork in Kathmandu temples is pretty lewd, but hadn’t seen much evidence before this.

Both naughty and violent – somebody notify Tipper Gore!

And then, peering inside – the inside is almost too small to even enter – I had the breath knocked clean out of me. It’s these two big marionette things.

Don’t know what it is about them. So beautiful and terrible, and so unlike anything I’d previously seen or expected to see. My reaction was similar to that upon seeing, two years ago, the “Big Buddha” at Bangkok’s Wat Kalanyamit: just completely overwhelmed with…something kind of amazement.

You’ll look at the photos and think, “Well, that’s stupid.” Partly, that’s ‘cause I was still trying to manoeuvre to get some good shots when a man told me photos weren’t allowed there; and partly it’s ‘cause of the old photos-can’t-do-it-justice thang.

But, damn, it’s moments like those…

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So, Kathmandu’s Durbar Square is one of a handful of World Heritage sites scattered about the Kathmandu Valley. It’s basically where the various kings commissioned Big Impressive palaces and temples to be built. And they are big, and impressive, and cool. The really Big Huge temple, though, is only open to the public one day per year – looks good from the outside, at any rate.

And there’s one palace where the “goddess” lives. They select an eight-year-old girl, and she lives in this place. And sometimes, she sits in the second-floor window and brushes her hair or whatever. Then, at age twelve, she’s not a goddess anymore, and has to go live with the hoi polloi again. And they pick another eight-year-old to be a goddess now. Well, anyhow, she wasn’t brushing her hair when I was there.

Located on the grounds is the most amazing carving – possibly the most amazing I’ve ever seen. It’s Khairav (Shiva all duded up in his Destroyer mode), and it’s a crackerjack.

And the architecture, and the artwork, and the scene is very cool in the same way that Kathmandu’s temples generally are very cool. But apart from the Khairav there, the best thing about the Square is the pigeons. No shit!

Why are there so fucking many of them? ‘cause people feed them like there ain’t no tomorrow. And then, inevitably, some little kid runs in and puts the scare to them, sending them all flying madly off hither and yon. And if you’re standing close by, the verisimilitude is pretty astounding. It looks like they’re going to fly right smack into you; but then, at the last second, they don’t — but they’re still close enough to feel a surprisingly large force of wind generated by their flapping wings as they all rush by.

This-here footage kind of gives an idea…but not really. Still, it’s fun to watch.

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