Temples and Shrines and Such

Thailand is the called the Land of Smiles and while that is true, it could also be called Land of a Bazillion Shrines---sometimes three to a block. We toured shrines and temples in both Bangkok and Chiang Mai---although I confess I cannot tell a temple from a shrine. Are shrines the ones with the statues of Buddha? Do temples have Buddahs? Should I have taken notes?

Who knows the answers to these questions? Probably the very reason people speak of religion as being full of Mystery. Or maybe not. Anyway, that’s not my point.

My point is this: no matter how different the peoples of the world seem to be, how different their customs and beliefs are different from my own, we are all more alike than we are different.

I was raised in a very understated, mostly unadorned church. Most of the shrines—or temples-- I saw were incredible works of art: mirrored mosaics, hand painted tiles, gilt and gilding and decorations galore. Even the more modest buildings had intricate carvings and exquisite details. So, in that aspect, it was quite different---stained glass windows aside-- from the churches I’m used to.

Worship style---at least on the surface—seemed different as well. In Thailand, you remove your shoes at the door and many worshipers approached on their knees before prostrating themselves on the floor, making a low, humble ‘Wai phra’ as a sign of respect. I saw a mother teaching her very young son the proper way to fold his tiny hands in front of his face, then bowing three times, flattening his hands on the floor with each bow. Nearby, his two brothers---probably between 4 and 6 years old, were performing their own ‘wai phra’ with great enthusiasm. So much enthusiasm, in fact, that it began to resemble a game of Leap Frog more than sedate, adult worship. After they completed their offering, the mother broke out a collection of small trucks and Thomas the Tank Engine to keep the boys occupied as she finished her own prayers. I had to smile in recognition as, from my own experience, they were only a baggie full of Cheerios away from being a Sunday morning in a Presbyterian Church.

Some things, like smiles and small boys, seem to be Universal.

While the Gardner is Away...

While I was out of the country for 17 days, distracted by travel and delicious food, by religions not my own, by elaborate temples and shiny shrines and cats of all colors---and let’s be honest here: SHOPPING! BUY! BUY ALL THE THINGS!! PRETTY and MINE and MORE and “You’re kidding, that’s only that many Bhat? I’ll have TWO!” I don’t want to brag but I’m pretty sure I single-handedly insured that the Thai economy would continue to boom during my visit.

Anyway, while I was thus engaged, all manner of nonsense was continuing back home in my absence—and no, I’m not referring to the political landscape, but to my personal one. Grass was growing, weeds were rocketing, and the elk---ah, you’re thinking, NOW she’s going to get back to the business of kvetching about the elk! I’m sure you were beginning to wonder---but the TRUTH IS THE ELK SEEMED TO BE WELL BEHAVED WHILE I WAS GONE.

I know! I too, was surprised. And worried. Because it was TOO quiet, if you know what I mean. However, jet lag is a Real Thing and I spent my first week home napping unexpectedly on the couch and craving dinner at 4 a.m. So, I failed to take advantage of the lack of destruction and get preemptive with my defenses. My kids had been kind enough to come mow my grass a couple of times during my absence, but my neglect soon negated their earlier efforts. The elk were free to frolic, unmolested by my outrage and copious amounts of stinky spray. Once I had returned from my travels to take up residency on my sofa the game was back on.

The grass continued to grow, but the elk were, of course, uninterested in my knee-high lawn. As I slept, they crept, surreptitiously nibbling a daylily here and a phlox there. Very un-elk-like, the nibbling, and it fooled me into a state of lazy complacency.

Until I woke up.

Thai Cats

This cat can't even

This is a Thai cat---named Tea---who lives in the wholesale fabric shop in “Second China” (Chinatown) that is owned by a nice man from India. This cat speaks fluent Cat and does not care what you think. I love him.

I like cats. You know that. I met a lot of cats in Thailand and fell in love with them all; cats that live in Temples, cats that live on the street. Plenty of cats with three-quarter length tails with a kind of a knobby-nub on the end. Restaurant cats and shop cats, cats that went about their cat business, cats that were too cool to acknowledge my very existence. Or, you know, just cats. Being cats. In Thailand. Wearing fur coats in the extreme heat.

I very much wanted to bring them home with me, forgetting for a moment that I already live with two perfectly fine Rescue Cats---I prefer that term to “Box Kitties”—who would not be at all amused to suddenly have Siamese siblings. (See what I did there? A little play on words? Thailand was once known as Siam, so technically you could refer to all local Thai cats as “Siamese.” What do you mean - it’s not funny if you had to explain the joke? Pretty sure it’s still funny.)

Except for Tea, most of the cats I saw in Thailand were “strays”, but they were being fed by the local shop owners and treated with more respect than you’d expect. Perhaps the gentle treatment of alley cats has to do with the Buddhist ethical concept of “making merit.”

Restaurant cat

Per Wikipedia, Merit is the “beneficial and protective force which accumulates as a result of good deeds, acts or thoughts” and is an important part of Buddhist life. I’m formulating a plan that will turn “Crazy Cat Lady” into “Extreme Practitioner of Buddhism.” I think I’m on to something...

Temple cat

Cat Cafe

Cafe Cat

Shop cat

The cat I brought home with me

Land of Smiles: The Journey

Orchids by the fist full

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away---let’s call it High School—my best friend traveled to an alien place---let’s call it Thailand---and sent home tales of a beautiful place and people. And at that time, we swore we would travel there, together, and have many adventures.

Fast forward a handful of decades and an email landed in my in-box that read: “Have work trip to Thailand in April. Vacay time after---you in?” Oh, I was SO “in” and that’s the story of how I came to spend a couple of weeks in The Land of Smiles.

Flights to Thailand are surprisingly cheap, and, unlike most US carriers, I got free checked bags—2—free carry on, free inflight movies, a pillow, a blanket, excellent service, regular meal service WITH REAL SILVERWARE, lots of leg room and---I hope you’re sitting down for this part---all in economy class. Which is a good thing as your time in the air can range in the 15+ hour category. And there’s the small matter of crossing the international dateline so it’s difficult to know how long you’ve been in the air.

 The level of service you receive becomes less a perk and more of a necessity. My flight left at 1:30 a.m. on a Wednesday morning---which is an ungodly hour to have a friend drop you at the airport, but a great hour to fly as I was tired enough that earplugs and a sleep mask were enough to keep me sleeping until they started serving breakfast over Tokyo.

Hello Kitty O'clock

We landed at Taipei at 6:00 a.m. local time on Thursday---but if I’ve done my math correctly it was only 2 p.m. Wednesday. But lucky for me Taipei airport seems to be the home of Hello Kitty so I was able to check the Hello Kitty clocks to confirm.

I also made two new Thai friends at the airport in a beautiful example of East Meets West Cooperation. We worked together to decipher our next departure gate---it was too early yet to have our gate posted. I, as a brash Westerner, wasn’t shy about asking the staff for help. They, speaking both Thai and English, could overhear other Thais who were familiar with the workings of that particular airport and updated me with the next newest location of our gate: downstairs in the secret waiting room.

We also found a lovely indoor orchid garden and spent our layover in the time honored tradition of taking way too many selfies.

Yes. After 13 hours in the air that is exactly what my hair looked like.