Wat Saket and The Golden Mount

In the evening, Wat Saket looks like a glowing castle hovering over Bangkok. From a distance the gleaming gold chedi appears as the conical tower of a fortress, conjuring a Fantasyland image.
 
In reality, it is a Buddhist Temple that sits atop what is known as The Golden Mount. A steep and winding staircase will take the visitor to a terrace at the top that offers some of the best views of Bangkok.
 
Wat Saket is a spiritual place where you will find people meditating and making offerings. Buddhist monks, in their orange robes, frequent the terrace. There is a small gift shop selling trinkets and ice cream.
 

To be sure, The Golden Mount is an artificial hill. In the early nineteenth century, King Rama III commissioned a large chedi to be built here using materials from the ruined walls of Ayutthaya, the former capital. The soil proved to be too soft and the chedi collapsed. For fifty years it sat undisturbed as Thai law states that a Buddhist structure cannot be destroyed. As shrubbery and vegetation began to grow around the structure, it began to look like a hill. King Rama V decided to fortify the hill and build a more sensible-sized chedi atop, and that is what exists today.
 
In addition to The Golden Mount and it's landmark chedi, there are also other structures on the temple grounds such as a chapel, ordination hall and library. ♠
 

Wat Pho

The Reclining Buddha.

Worshipers make offerings in the Temple of the Reclining Buddha.

Bangkok is one of the most beautiful cities in the world. One of things that sets it apart are the amount of temples that dot the landscape. Most pertain to Theravada Buddhism, although some originate from Chinese religions such as Taoism.
 
Located near the mighty Chao Praya River is a royal monastery and temple complex dating back to the era of King Rama I. It is home of The Reclining Buddha, and is said the be the birthplace of the Thai massage (which I, for one, am grateful). Within the complex are many religious buildings, pagodas, plants, fountains, and the omnipresent Buddha statues. It's official name is Wat Phra Chetuphon Vimolmangklararm Rajwaramahaviharn. Luckily for all of us, it is more commonly known as Wat Pho.
 
Being a sacred place of worship, the visitor must dress appropriately. Shorts and sleeveless shirts are inappropriate. The cost to enter is 100 Baht.
 

Pagodas and temples of Wat Pho.

Schoolkids on a field trip to Wat Pho.

Chinese Stone Doll.

Stone statues "bear the weight" at the base of a pagoda.

The Reclining Buddha is enshrined in a temple of the same name. The figure is 46 meters in length and 15 meters high, laying on it's side with head propped up on the hand, which is called the Sihasaiyas posture. The Buddha in this position is said to be a lion reclining. The image is made of brick and stucco, but lacquered and gilded to give a divine look. The feet, especially, are of interest. These gigantic appendages have designs in the toes that almost look like true prints. On the sole of the foot are “the mother-of-pearl inlaid patterns,” which are supposedly the same patterns found on the original Buddha shortly after he was born.
 
Many claim The Reclining Buddha to be the finest of large Buddhas around the world. Adherents, including both Thai and foreigner, believe that worshiping the image will bring them peace and happiness.
 

A colonnade of Buddha statues.

One of the curiosities at Wat Pho are the Chinese stone dolls that decorate porches, artificial hills and other spots within the temple complex. Originally they were used as ballast to stabilize ships returning from trade with China during the reign of King Rama III. During this era, trade was prosperous and merchant vessels returned to Siam heavy with commodities.  They used the stone statues as weight to stabilize the ship. They come in various forms, including warriors, nobleman, sages, lions, tigers, horses and pigs. Now they are used as decorations in the temple.
 

Joss sticks and lotus flowers are used for offerings.

Phra Buddha Chinnaraj, depicting the Buddha giving his first sermon.

In the South Assembly Hall is an image depicting Buddha giving his first sermon. It is known as Phra Buddha Chinnaraj, and was brought from Sukhothai, the former capital, by King Rama I. The image represents a key moment in the life of Buddha when he set the wheel of Dharma in motion. In his sermon he taught of the middle path to reach Nirvana, which means to avoid the extremes of pleasure and self-mortification.
 

An artist focuses on his work in a backroom of Wat Pho.

This small statue depicts the Thai Massage, which originated at Wat Pho.

Phra Ubosot, an ordination hall used for monastic rituals.

The greatest enjoyment, from a visitors point of view, is just to wander around the complex and take in the majesty of it all—the colors, ornate decoration, smell of incense, and literally hundreds of Buddhist statues. It is pleasant to watch those who are visiting, those who are worshiping, and perhaps some of the artists who are restoring artifacts. ♠

First Hour in Krung Thep

The fragrance of fried garlic, pork and raw fish, mix with the smell of the canal; and a whiff of sewer floats in the air. It is early morning, but the industrial Thai are already setting up market along the narrow alley, across the canal from our hotel.
 
We cross the bridge and and walk through the shaded alley, taking in the aroma. Opulent vegetation creeps over the walls and oozes through the fences. Cats roam through their own ground-level labyrinth. At a table eating breakfast sits a Buddhist monk dressed in orange robes. A crew of five in yellow shirts float the canal on a small boat and use a long pole with a net on the end to fish trash from the water.
 

We come up the stairs from the canal and find a cacophony of motorist traffic, with horns and spewing exhaust. The buildings are dingy with soot. Electrical wires seem to stretch everywhere.
 
We pass many stalls already selling food. One sells freshly-squeezed orange juice and another fresh fruit. We only have large bills and end up buying a drink at the 7-11.
 
Even at this morning hour, Khao San Road is full of people. We quickly learn the aggressiveness of the Thai. Every twenty feet we have men look at us and ask, “Tuk-tuk?” I shake hands with three swarthy individuals, all of them seeking my business. One of the drivers asks my name, and then Jenelle's. She says, “Sue.” He marches us for two blocks to the tourism office, where we sit down with a salesman who tries to sell an excursion package. We politely tell him that we don't wish to make a decision now. I'm sure the tuk-tuk driver gets a cut for anyone he can drag in.
 

Finally we make our escape back to the street and find that the heat is turning up. Abruptly, the food stalls end, and after passing over a small canal lined with trees and pink flowers, I pull out a map and we reorient our course. We pass temples of unknown names and homeless people lying on the sidewalk. A man sits on a plastic chair and reads the paper in front of a colorful wall of dragon graffiti. We see red buses that look thirty years old, with windows down and dripping with people. Two rats, the size of a shoe, crawl along the curb.
 
Needing to eat, we find a lone vendor who sells skewers of meat for 10-20 baht. The 10 baht skewers look like chunks of lung, and the 20, chicken. He, nor his wife, speak English, other than to say “ten” and “twenty,” and “chicken” and “rice.” He also sells something rolled in a banana leaf, which we wish to buy, but they don't understand and we leave it at that, only buying skewers of chicken and sticky rice in a bag.
 

We find a park with a bench where we can sit down and eat. The park is relatively quiet compared to the chaos of the city. Flowers bloom, birds play on the grass, and the trees look like gnarled lengths of yarn.
 
We use our fingers for the sticky rice, and wish we had brought hand-sanitizer. Mine comes with a pasty hot sauce that has a hint of curry, leaving my eyes watering. On our way out, we stop at another vendor and buy a bag of pineapple and melon. Everything here seems to come in bags. He can't speak English, and likes talking to himself.
 
As we walk toward the southern entrance of the sanctuary, a tuk-tuk driver looks at us, asks where we are going, and then says, “This way,” pointing north. So we turn around, but quickly encounter another driver who asks the same question, but points the other way! We ignore both and decide to follow our intuition. Five minutes later we find our destination—Wat Pho. ♠

Hike to Observation Point (album)

The Puzzle of Life

Our family recently completed a 750-piece jigsaw puzzle. I bought it as a Christmas present and it is the first time I can recall that we've worked on a puzzle together as a family.
 
The image—Mont-Saint-Michel, the beautiful castle on the coast of Normandy that becomes an island at high-tide. Likely taken near dusk, the picture shows the medieval fortress softly lit up, and the waning color of the sky in different hues of purple and pink. Additional excitement (for me, at least) was that I hoped to take my wife and daughter there in just a few years.
 
We cleared off our kitchen table, wiped it down, removed all the chairs (so we could move around more freely), and scooted it away from the wall. For the next two weeks we would eat at the bar, and the table was solely used to work on the puzzle.
 
We began with the rectangular border, finding all the straight edges and locking them into place. This alone was no easy task, exhausting much of our first evening. Then we moved to the castle, with its tower, abbey, fortifications and rocky shoreline. The most troublesome portions of the puzzle were the placid water that surrounded the castle, and evening sky, which had no distinguishing features other than different hues of purple. The further into our task, the more laborious it became.
 
But as I struggled to find pieces that would lock together, my mind began to contemplate the similarities of assembling a jigsaw puzzle and living a life. I began to realize that life is, in reality, a jigsaw puzzle. We spend our days wrestling to figure it out. One of the key differences is that at least with a jigsaw puzzle, we have a perfect key to refer to. In life, it is true that we have examples and guides, but to know how the final outcome should look, is largely a mystery.
 
It is also true that the final image of our lives is yet to be determined. There is a heavy debate over predestination vs. self-determination. Do we choose what our final picture will look like, or is it already determined? I don't know. But from my experience, life is a combination of chance and choice.
 
The first lesson I learned: there is a lot of trial and error. How many times do you place a piece where you think it might go, only to find out it doesn't belong? That's basically what you're doing 95% of the time! Does that sound familiar in life?
 
Second, we must have patience and persistence. If we quit the first time we got frustrated, the puzzle would never get done. Sometimes, especially when we got to the monotonous stage of the sky, I became bored. If you're ever going to succeed in life, you have to endure to the end.
 
Next—teamwork. When others are pitching in and removing some of the burden, or lending their expertise, or encouraging, or perhaps synergizing with your own efforts, then the work becomes much easier. I found it was beneficial to have my daughter, Jenna, help us with the puzzle. She had assisted her friend, Macy, with several puzzles at her house, so she had a little more experience than the rest of us, and could teach us a trick or two.
 
I learned that we must refer to the key often to remember how the picture is supposed to look. Like I stated earlier, there is no perfect picture in life that will show us exactly how to arrive at our final destination. But we can look at grandparents, or read classic literature, or study theology, or whatever it may be, and learn from others who have already trod this path called life. It might just make it a little easier.
 
Sometimes I found that I had to try the same piece several times, on different days. Maybe I was trying to fit it in at a slightly wrong angle, or didn't try every side. I don't know. I just know that there were some pieces that didn't fit one day, but then fit another.
 
On the flip-side, there were a couple of times we had a piece that we thought fit, and even left it there, but later, upon further examination, we learned that it didn't belong. When this happens, it can throw off everything! How many times does this happen in life? We think we did it right, but have to humble ourselves and change a habit, correct an action, right a wrong.
 

Now, almost three weeks have passed since we completed the puzzle. It is still sitting on our kitchen table, pushed to the side and surrounded by dirty plates, left-out ketchup, envelopes of junk mail, or anything else. We scooted the table back against the wall, but haven't replaced the chairs yet. (We're waiting to do that after we mop the floor.)
 
So, what have I learned? I would have thought that all those life lessons would still be on the forefront of my mind, circulating with other heavy topics as things to ponder. Perhaps, I would have thought, that I would begin to apply them, and use them to improve my life.—Yet, the truth is, I can't even remember what they are! I can barely remember if I fed the dogs this morning! How can I apply something that I have already forgotten? Now THAT may be the most puzzling aspect of all! ♠