A Day of Visiting Buddhist Monuments in Krung Thep (Bangkok)
A Holy Day
The sky is periwinkle when our boat docks at the sacred site of Wat Arun.
The temple’s famous pang, or spire, towers above us, side-lit by the setting sun. The tower's golden details glisten with new sparkles each moment the sun dips farther into the horizon.
The whole scene is glimmering in gorgeous light.
It's a Saturday evening and from our view on the boat, the temple grounds seem quiet and serene.
I follow the lead of my three friends - Margaret, Sarah, and Rowena - who hoist themselves out of the khlong boat and onto the wooden dock above. We tip the boat captain in baht and thank him with wais (the traditional display of respect: bowing with your palms pressed together.)
With sea legs, we lift up the hems of our skirts and maneuver across the wobbly dock. We pass two giddy children playing tag - their parents watching fondly from afar. This Thai family is probably waiting for a ferry to take them across the water, to the bustling eastern part of Bangkok.
When watching the Thai family, I realize that we could have taken a ferry to get to Wat Arun. In fact, a ferry would have been the simplest option. Wat Arun after all, sits royally on the western banks of the Chao Phraya River, almost directly across the water from our original point of departure, Wat Pho. To reach Wat Arun, many Thais - as well as tourists like us - take a cheap and straightforward ferry ride across the river.
However, as eager farangs (western foreigners) fairly new to the city, the four of us had decidedly fallen into a tourist trap.
Hours before, we were stopped on the sidewalk by a local man, who claimed to be a professor at a university in the area. He amiably warned us that the Grand Palace, which we were headed toward, was closed because of a holiday. He recommended that we redirect to Wat Arun, which he could guide us to.
Without skipping a beat, the friendly professor promptly waved down a tuk tuk for us. Then, speaking in rapid Thai, he secured a "locals deal" with the driver. He instructed the tuk tuk driver to drop us off at a particular pier on the river and to request yet another "locals deal" with a boat captain.
"They will tell you it costs 1,000 baht. But you should pay no more than 800 baht with the locals deal," our new friend professed to us.
The tuk tuk driver nodded. The professor nodded. They looked expectantly at us. After hesitant stares at each other, we finally nodded back. "Ok, ka," we replied.
So we went - speedily down the road in a tuk tuk that a stranger had ordered for us. We debarked at an unfamiliar pier, where we were then ushered onto a khlong boat. For 800 baht, we purchased a boat tour of the Bangkok waterways.
A Happy Accident
The boat tour was absolutely worth it.
We whizzed up the Chao Phraya River, zooming past wats and other boats. Though the river is usually busy with crowded commuter boats and huge dinner cruise ships blasting American music, the river seemed quiet on this Saturday. The whole city has seemed quiet this month, hushed by the lull in tourism during the pandemic.
The backway canals were quiet too. We floated down the creek-like waterways, passing riverfront homes. We passed hanging laundry fluttering in the breeze. We smiled at local schoolboys eating lunch at the waterfront, and waved back at local children swimming in the canal.
Eventually, the boat captain dropped us off at the Tailing Chan floating market, where we had 30 minutes to find snacks from various vendors. We drank iced coffee and ate kanom buang (sweet, stuffed Thai crepes) and phuek thod (deep fried taro) by the river. With stuffed bellies, we returned to our boat.
We completed the final stretch of the boat journey with a gentle breeze hitting our faces. When the we docked at Wat Arun, we had whole-heartedly accepted our role in this specific "tourist trap."
The fact of the matter is that we are tourists right now. We are full fledged foreigners, with American passports, and the American dollar on our side. We take up space, are sometimes ignorant of cultural norms, and cannot successfully communicate with locals in their first language. All this to say - spending 800 baht on a memorable and thrilling adventure with friends, is a small price to pay for the chance to experience this country as western tourists.
Hopefully we will not be full fledged tourists forever. The dream is that, in the next ten months, we will all become sufficient Thai language speakers and listeners. We will communicate with locals - like our new friend, the professor - with more understanding and gumption. We will be exponentially more aware and knowledgable about Thailand, as well as less naive to tourist traps.
But for now, we are simply grateful for being "led astray" from the day's original itinerary. The khlong boat drives off into the distance, its rainbow tarp disappearing from sight, and we turn toward the famous temple.
Temple of Dawn
I had never been inside the gated grounds of Wat Arun. I had seen it glowing golden in the nighttime before - its famous spire lit up by spotlights. And I had stood outside its gates before, and admired its figure against the backdrop of the sky.But I had never seen it up close, in its natural glory.
Wat Arun is worth seeing up close, especially at sundown, when the air is cooler and the sky is pink. The temple was renamed Wat Arun, meaning "Temple of Dawn", because the old King Taksin vowed to restore it when he noticed its beautiful, abandoned ruins at dawn. The royal palace was soon moved from the fallen capital of Ayutthaya, and to the grounds of this temple. Wat Arun's name is fitting for its beauty at sunset.
Wat Arun's central spire has three levels to it, each one dedicated to a symbolic level in Buddhist iconography. The spire is detailed with intricate porcelain flowers and carvings of both Buddhist and Hindu figures. Ancient Chinese warrior statues hold up the different levels of the spire, each character baring a different facial expression.
The second level terrace, reached by a set of steep stairs, encircles the spire. With each corner you turn on the terrace, there is an expansive view of the temple grounds. Margaret, Sarah, Rowena, and I marveled at every glimpse we had of Wat Arun. We stayed until the sun had fully set and the artificial lights illuminated the towers in gold.
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Fit for the King
Before our boat ride and our visit to Wat Arun, Margaret, Sarah, Rowena, and I had a full day of exploring the historical district of Bangkok.
The day's adventure started when we left our hotel in heat of the afternoon, with the goal of visiting Bangkok's famous Buddhist temples. We jumped on the MRT subway at Queen Sirikrit Station and took it all the way to Sanam Chai. From there, we crossed canals and hopped curbs before reaching the eastern banks of the Chao Phraya River.
The royal temple, Wat Pho, sits on the eastern side of the river. It's a common destination for farangs, and a holy and historical monument to Thai people.
That Saturday, the four of us roamed the luscious, expansive grounds of the temple complex. We meandered past colorful, porcelain chedis, which are beautiful, cone-shaped pagodas commemorating the first kings of Thailand.
We craned our necks to admire shimmering, gold plated roofs, and we restrained ourselves from running our hands along meticulously crafted stone statues.
We also paid our respects to the gigantic,150ft long Reclining Buddha, who is housed in a tall-pillared chapel filled with auspicious characters of Buddha. We walked along the stretch of the big Buddha's body, from its tranquil head to the soles of its feet, which are intricately illustrated with mother-of-pearl.
After visiting the Reclining Buddha, we sat in the shade of a courtyard tree. We listened to the sound of falling water and the chatter of birds perched above.
A Few Notes on Wat Pho
Wat Pho is one of the oldest temples in Thailand and is considered #1 in a list of six first-class royal temples in the country. Wat Pho gained its national significance when the former Thai capital, Ayutthaya, fell to Burmese powers in 1767. The king at the time, King Taksin, temporarily relocated the national capital and the royal palace to the area of Wat Arun in Thonburi, which is directly across the river from Wat Pho. Because of its proximity to the new palace in Thonburi, Wat Pho became a royal monastery. From that point onward, the temple has maintained its royal prestige, despite changes in the capital's location, which is now in Krung Thep (Bangkok). Like many wats (temples) in Thailand, Wat Pho continues to be an active monastery where Buddhist monks live, study, and practice. It is also known for housing a school of traditional Thai medicine and massage.
As Thai American
There are very few places in this world that I allow myself to love with a sense of possessiveness. I have had the privilege to travel to very special, and some holy, sites around the world. I’ve admired beautiful, historical monuments, with my eyes watering and my mouth gaping at their awesomeness and meaning. I’ve also lived in places, have memorized and adored specific streets and landmarks. These places are hard to say goodbye to.
However, for most of these places, my love falls short because I am not inherently or historically connected to them. I do not share the struggles, or identify with their traditional cultures, or have anything related to them in my blood. I haven’t spoken the languages of these places, been raised on their food, or have had a longstanding sense of community with the people.
In Thailand, however, I feel proud, forever connected, and a bit possessive. When I walk around a sacred place like Wat Pho, I cannot help but think "this is a part of me, this is my family's culture, this is my people's history."
These feelings are powerful, important. I have never felt these feelings anywhere else in the world.
I confront all of these thoughts as I stand at the base of a chedi at Wat Pho, and look up at its spire, detailed with porcelain flowers. People around me gawk with “wow”s and catch photos with the towers. I take a moment to be grateful that I finally get to live in, and fall in love with, a place that I am inherently, forever connected to.
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