Day 9: Ayutthaya
Another up-before-dawn day. This time to catch the 6:40 train to Ayutthaya, the second Thai Capital. It was sacked by the Burmese in 1767 and contains a whole series of ruins and temples. This time I travel solo. It’s a nice change from the past few days: outdoors again and definitely less disgusting. All that violence safely far in the past.
Upon exiting the train station there was a moment of uncertainty: there were no big signs, no obvious road. Just a town like any other I had passed by on the train; nothing to distinguish it from all the others. I did what anyone would do. Ask a local? Nope. Follow that westerner with the big red backpack. Good call. She goes down to the a ferry station and I did enough research to know that the island with most of the ruins is on the other side. She even has my Lonely Planet Southeast Asia on a Shoestring book — in German.
Right off the ferry I commit a minor error: I jump at the first bike rental offered, no negotiation. I’ll need to get ahold of these impulse buys. Anyway, it turns out that ฿40 is the going rate for bicycle rental, so it wasn’t a very costly mistake — though there were better bikes to be had for that.
It was nice to be under my own power exploring. Thanks to Lorraine I had the top 4 Wat’s to investigate. This was good, because I ended up spending all day on just the 4, so I’m glad I didn’t visit any filler Wats.
Wat Mahathat
The first ruin I visited, appropriately enough, was a palace. It’s vital to present yourself to the court when traveling in a foreign land, lest you be thought a spy. It was mostly empty. The mid-morning sun was strong and harsh and it made my photos of it unsatisfying, but it was nevertheless an impressive structure. Especially the central tower or prang.
Next, breakfast. I’d intended to pedal back to town to get some street food, but I noticed a small restaurant filled with Thai people. Gotta check that out. When I ask for the menu, she recites it from memory in its entirety. Chicken and Rice. Period. When it arrives, it’s delicious and comes with more than the starring ingredients: a great spicy sauce, cucumbers and a wonderful soup. A deal at ฿30, though she did get an extra 10 from me for water.
Wat Ratchaburana
The next Wat, the royal temple right next to the Wat Mahathat palace, is famous for a sandstone Buddha head entwined in the roots of a tree. In contrast to the previous Wat, this one is pulsing with tourists who are brought in by the motorcoach-load. Each group is set down in front of the head, takes their snaps then leaves to see the rest of the site. Here’s what it looks like from the back of the tree.
The rest of the site is as impressive as Mahathat. The ruins are extensive and imposing. The thoroughness of the Burmese in decapitating Buddha statues is remarkable. Row upon row of headless Buddha all over the complex.
It was difficult to avoid the tourists to get good shots and I remain too lazy to learn photoshop, so I packed up and headed to the next one.
And that’s where the traffic accident happened.
Wat Chaiwatthanaram
Traffic, which had been light earlier was picking up. There were increasing numbers of tourists everywhere. The elephant rides had stated up and a small clutch of visitors were lurching atop the amazing animals as they marched slowly down the street. My driving school did not cover elephants, but I figured when they began slowly to cut me off I had only one option: to swerve to avoid planting my bike in the elephant’s calf. Unfortunately, that gave the scooter I was unaware of behind me two options: take me down or swerve even more acutely.
They chose swerve, happily for me. Unhappily for them: they skidded to the ground. These two sweet girls in school uniforms in a wreck behind me. No broken bones or machines, but some road rash and freshly-cleaned uniforms messed up. It felt terrible: embarrassment and helplessness. I couldn’t even say sorry since I didn’t remember the words and fiddling with my phrasebook seemed even more awkward. They were uninterested in me in any event, maybe putting up a mask on anger or embarrassment. After I while of standing around useless I just left.
On to the next site. Traffic was really starting to pick up now. They’re setting up for something big. A festival. A marathon. The route is long and crosses a busy bridge. In the west I know the rules of the road, but here the rules are less stringent. Cars mostly stay in their lanes, but scooters and motorbikes and tuk tuks obey only Ficks’ law1. My main protection however is my white tourists’ skin and though there’s stress and heat, I feel no real danger. It feels ugly to accept this privilege. I depend on it regardless.
Finally I make it to Wat Chaiwatthanaram. It’s a vast compound, in much better shape than the previous Wats and Prangs. It’s beautiful and very well proportioned. You can climb up on it, which I always enjoy. It’s very spacious and peaceful. Its best aspect is at sunset, viewed from the river. My harsh daylight photos are the best I can get without staying overnight.
So far, it’s easily my favorite. More intact, and far less busy. That is, until Wat Yai Chai Mongkol
Wat Yai Chai Mongkol
Getting to the next and final Wat took some effort. It’s on the train station side of the island. So I returned my bike and headed back across the river. A pedestrian again, I start walking. It looked to be a short distance according to the fun cartoon tourist map. About 3Km or 1.5miles later, I arrive, skin beginning to pinken and able to down 1.5L of water without feeling any less thirsty. I promise myself to take some form of transport back.
It is totally worth the roasting walk. What wonderful place! Instead of a dead ruin, this was a real temple. Locals were making offerings and praying to the large Buddha in the former ordination hall. The Buddha statues where clothed in saffron robes, row upon row. The little ones and the huge ones, none naked. Tourists were fewer and more respectful, outnumbered by the devout and cowed by their example. It was wonderfully peaceful way to end the day.
The stone stairways of the temple were worn down by centuries of monks treading them. The feel of the cold on my feet as I climbed these same stairs, adding my tiny contribution to our common project of turning brick to dust made me feel a sense of humility and a bit of awe. Feeling the tiniest part of the story of so many years of such soft flesh wearing down the hard steps.
The best for last indeed!
Negotiating my Way Back
At the Wat’s exit, they sell water under a sign for ฿10. The lady asks for ฿20, saying the rest was a tip. After I turn away I think she says ‘sip that’ — 10 Bhat, but I’m not sure so I keep walking.
By now my fantasy of walking back to the train station was dispelled from my mind. Unlike Bangkok, taxis and tuk tuks do not swarm around tourists in Ayutthaya. The one Song Theaw waiting in the parking lot wanted ฿80 to go to the train station (where my ticket back to Bangkok, a trip lasting 2-3 hours, would be ฿20). I bargain, but he only goes down to 60. Bummer. So I walk back to the train station, looking over my shoulder every few minutes to note the continued distinct lack of taxis. Thirsty. When was that last train again? Hot. Uncomfortable.
About halfway back, a mini-Song Theaw stops by me. Looks like a man driving his daughter back from school. I get him from 50 to 40, which is enough of a victory in my weary state to climb with my pride into the back of the truck.
It looks like I still need a lot more practice negotiating. The first Song Theaw’s firmness should have clued me in that he had the upper hand. I should have acquiesced instead of taking it as an insult. Oh well, plenty of time to improve. At least I got to learn the Thai for train station. Which as I write this, it turns out I’ve forgo. Oh well.
