Dear Friends and Family,

During the CELTA, there was one particular “boy” that drove me rather batty because he was utterly unorganized, he wouldn’t look me in the eyes when forced to talk with me, and he was always late - even late to his own teaching sessions. He also failed to engage myself (let alone the students) in his lessons which often resulted in my spending a lot of time calculating the distance from my chair to the ladies room or writing lists of things to do - although I duly tuned-in long enough to search for something, anything positive to say to him during our post-teaching feedback. And yet, as my father says, what goes around comes around. While I taught, he spent the time scratching his nether regions or sleeping or skipped class altogether (although this wasn’t particularly personal… he did this to us all and we all eventually learned to just ignore it). Unfortunately, there also was a time when he and I seriously butted heads… which I found regrettable but I knew, just knew that that I had to stand up for myself. I didn’t come all the way to Bangkok to be let fear nor an obnoxious man rule me. Anyway, the result of that skirmish was that I won the point but was punished with days of cold shoulders from the united boy front until we all enjoyed an unofficial truce over a few friendly beers.

Anyway, three weeks into the CELTA, this particular boy finally taught a lesson that I managed to stay engaged throughout. News indeed! Having resided in Chang Mai for nearly four years, the boy utilized a situational presentation to teach a grammar point… and the situation that he wrote involved Chang Mai and a visit to Doi Suthep. While the students were obviously familiar with the wonders of Doi Suthep, I learned that this was a mountain outside of Chang Mai with a famous temple. I was intrigued and resolved that a visit to Chang Mai meant a visit to Doi Suthep. On Saturday, I kept my resolution.

During my first day in Chang Mai talk with a friendly Thai waitress, I was advised that any “sawngthaew” could take me to Doi Suthep. Sawngthaews – don’t ask me how to pronounce this word – are red trucks that have bench seats lining the sides and a canvas roof to ward off sun and rain. I think of them as super tuk tuks and please don’t waste any effort in asking me to pronounce sawngthaew. Anyway, although I hadn’t been in a sawngthaew since my arrival in Chang Mai, I knew that it would be simple process to flag an empty one down and negotiate a price to drive me into the hills. I did this… and found that my foreign face cost me dearly as I flagged down 3 different drivers before agreeing to the outrageous price of 300 THB. I smiled at the driver in the blue plaid shirt, climbed into the front seat (I like this because I fear car sickness and because I can see better from the front seat; drivers like it because they can attempt to sell me things), was driven over the moat, through the sprawled, modern, obviously less ascetically regulated outskirts of Chang Mai and up into the beautiful hills. Almost immediately, our sawngthaew’s nose started pointing upwards at a steep angle and necessitated a low gear and we ascended the mountain on a road with 2 lanes for up and 1 lane for down, around sharp twists and turns, twisting and turning, turning and twisting for something 13 kilometers (~8 miles). Interestingly, along the way, we began to pass groups of young men in flesh-colored polo shirts walking up the road. Some had taken their shirts off… I winced on their behalf as I realized that they had to be walking to the same destination that I had paid for a ride to. I was very curious about them and many returned my curious looks… Their mission was not so obvious, nor was their age (university?). I hoped that the driver had enough English to give me a hint of what was up… but even my best graded language questions failed to elicit any clues although he chuckled several times when at my astonishment regarding the number of men walking. We arrived well ahead of the group and my driver went out of his way to drop me off at the foreigner’s entrance – which provides a tram ride up to the Wat for 20 THB. I muttered under my breath that not all fat Americans are lazy while smiling and waving good-bye to the driver before turning on my heel towards the stairs.

I passed through an archway with pictures of the Thai King and Queen and began to ascend 306 brick stairs. Up I went, winding my way up past a “gauntlet,” mere child’s play after the wonders of Angkor – the Thais are less desperate and politer for it. After about 50 stairs, I arrived at the base of an enormous staircase lined by two ceramic-tiled Nagas – whose heads reside at the base, whose bodies sinuously border the stairs, and whose tails I failed to notice but are undoubtly reside at the Wat entrance. I took a deep breath and steadily climbed the stairs – which were not as bad as I anticipated (another debt I owe Bangkok stair training, no doubt!) although I was a bit out of breath when I stopped to pay my 30 THB entry fee and respectfully cover my shoulders. Up a few more stairs, through a magnificent two-story carved, gold-leaf entry way and I was in.

Dead center of the Wat Phra That Doi Suthep is a complex of buildings that surround an enormous gold stupa pagoda – but I decided to save the best for last and first explored the outer courtyard which has several altars for devotees pray with lit sticks of incense. A helpful map had been provided and I wandered past a large jackfruit tree, past several pavilions with enormous bells, past a row of bells that had a sign that said “do not push the bells” – but this must not preclude actually ringing the bells as many other tourists and Thais rang the bells. The bells were deep and not particularly musically resonate (to my ears) but nonetheless wonderful. I spent a few minutes chasing this adorable dog with short Corgi legs around for a picture before turning my attention to a large bougainvillea, a marble balustrade, and a slightly clouded but all spectacular view of Chang Mai and the hills beyond. I was a mite astounded by the size of the city… population 200,000, really? And reminded that the city does exceed the moat boundaries. Huh. Anyway, after staring and enjoying the natural photographic moment, I continued past a small rose garden with a gold Buddha and silver turtle, past a coffee stand, past a gift shop, and back to the entrance of the Wat. I smiled at a wooden, blue-painted, many-armed elephant as I took off my flip-flops and stowed them on a rack. One does not enter Wat sanctuaries with one’s shoes on, which I find counter-intuitive as Thai culture finds feet the lowest of the low. Wouldn’t it be better to cover them as we do our knees and shoulders? Speaking of which, monks don’t cover their shoulders. What is that all about? Just curious. Anyway, I actually enjoyed the feel of the cool marble under my bared feet and took a few celebratory steps before climbing up a metal-carpeted staircase and into the sanctuary.

Almost predictably, I found the square, open, outer sanctuary lined with pedestals with shiny gold statues of Buddha. Admittedly, I’m getting a bit blasé regarding gold Buddhas. But what I really enjoyed were the painted scenes behind the statues – one reminded me a bit of Da Vinci’s Last Supper, another was of the golden chedi stupa of Doi Suthep which prompted me to take a picture of the stupa and then the painting. After the painting began to pall, I walked around the stupa itself which is surrounded by more temples and countless Buddha statues in all shapes and sizes. Buddhism finds the day of the week that you were born on sacred and there are traditional Buddha statues for each day of the week i.e. Buddha with hand extended, palm out (Monday), Buddha reclining (Tuesday), or Buddha with Naga (snake - Saturday). I passed several day-of-the-week Buddha sets and stopped at an emerald-colored Buddha. Very nice. Ever-interested architecture and crystal chandeliers, I respectfully knelt with other worshipers in a side temple filled with paintings and differing-sized Buddhas on an alter with candles and flowers and found myself included in a saffron-robed monk’s blessing on the crowd – which entails muttering that I never catch and being splashed multiple times with big drops from a bamboo switch. Out in the open again, I had soon been around the place once and as I turned to do a second round, I noticed worshippers hanging bells on the fence that protects the golden stupa. I turned and turned in a circle and realized that there were small, bronze bells, some larger, some smaller, some hanging from the roof in long groups, all with writing and labels that I assume were requests for good-fortune. The bells didn’t ring to announce their presence but I wondered what the place sounded like in a windstorm. I was also reminded of the Christian cliché that every time a bell rings, an angel is born. I liked the bells. In fact, later on my way down I seriously contemplated the purchase of a musical, beautiful brass bell… but couldn’t rationalize the expense. But I’ll admit that I plan to keep my eyes open at the Sunday market. Anyhow, I also noticed that there were a myriad of different collection boxes squeezed between the Buddhas in the back, their pleas mostly in Thai with the occasional “please donate for the poor peoples” – I placed 10 THB coins in a few there were too many to donate to all. The need never ends, does it? Anyway, after a bit more gawking and photo snapping, I went back down the stairs to notice a tree surrounded by cremation boxes and to visit a tiny, odd museum with a statue to an omniscient cock (we’re talking chicken here, people) and filled with Buddhas plus currency from surrounding countries. There were no labels in the museum… so I made it a short visit.

After a lingering final examination of the 79 foot-high, 39 feet across engraved gold-plated stupa (really, reading the brochure can be so informative) and a good-bye to the now-clouded view of Chang Mai, I made my way back down the Naga staircase. I resisted a purchase at the gauntlet, noticed that the flesh-colored crowd of men had collected and were standing in orderly rows with an all Thai-banner (I concluded vaguely that they were protesting or proudly representing something), and I ascended to the crowded parking lot to negotiate a ride to my next destination: the Phra Tamnak Phu Phing palace.