Buddha Nature in the Thai Jungle

Letter home about Thailand on July 3, 2008

Dear family and friends,

Three weeks, three countries, three cultures. A journey that ends not with a bang or a whimper but a monsoon and a kiss.

I'm writing from my soft, warm bed in San Francisco.

I took one of the hottest showers of my life, luxuriating in the ability to crank up the heat and feel something other than a trickle of cold water.

I enjoyed my first uninterrupted night of sleep in weeks because no mosquitoes were buzzing around my ears. (Not buying a mosquito net before I left was probably my biggest travel mistake. By the time I got to Southeast Asia, I couldn't find one, in spite of several wild goose chases around the markets.)

When my friend, Sujata Mody, picked me up from SFO and I saw her familiar, welcoming face, my relief was palpable: I was actually home.

I would have written this final e-mail from Bangkok but the Internet connection at my guesthouse was infuriatingly slow (in 30 minutes, I was only able to read two e-mails and send one) and then a monsoon started and lasted most of the evening while I was hand-scrawling these travel notes until I keeled over from exhaustion.

*************
The ancient capital
My final photo shoot was at Sukhothai, one of the ancient Thai capitals, and her sister site, Si Satchanalai.

For most of my journey throughout Cambodia, Thailand and Laos, I'd been visiting temples.

No other temples can compare to Angkor, so what was special for me about Sukhothai and Si Satchanalai were the colossal Buddhas.

Following my Angkor model, I hired a private tuk tuk driver for the two days that I was shooting. The sweet little garden guesthouse where I stayed in New Sukhothai City, Ban Thai, referred me to Mr. Vinay.

(For future trips, I would stay in the Old City. Guesthouses there are across the street from Sukhothai Historical Park. I was concerned that the tiny Old City wouldn't have enough resources but it had plenty, and a lot more ambiance than the New City.)

White-knuckle tuk tuk ride
At 5:30 a.m., when Mr. Vinay pulled up, I was baffled by the layout of the tuk tuk.

In Cambodia, the motorcycle and driver were in front and the open-air passenger seats were in back.

This northern Thailand tuk tuk was rear-wheel drive with the motorcycle in the back.

Horrified, I did the math: I would be facing the open road with literally no barrier in front of me.

Envision the back of a pick-up truck with no tailgate. Now flip it around so that's the front of the vehicle.

No seatbelts, no windshield. Nothing between you and freedom ... or imminent disaster.

The first time we got on the highway, I was clutching the sides of my seat bench so hard that my forearms strained. I was convinced this was the end of my life and I had done this to myself.

My only regret was that all of my exposed film was back in my bungalow at Ban Thai and, having left no specific instructions with the staff there, what were the odds that it would get shipped back to the United States so that someone could develop it?

The drive from the main Sukhothai Historical Park site to the more remote and, hence, less-visited Si Satchanalai is approximately 70 km along a paved road through the jungle.

Banana trees, coconut trees and glorious tropical flowers lined the route, creating a verdant jungle landscape as far as the eye could see.

Monsoons consumed most of the days but during the breaks, the sky was a giant puff of white clouds and blue sky reminiscent of ancient Greek paintings.

A few minutes into the ride—and a lot of soul searching later—I started to enjoy myself.

The open-air vantage point of riding in a tuk tuk like this is pure freedom.

I had committed to two days of shooting at Sukhothai and Si Satchanalai. I wasn't going to ride a bicycle between these long distances, I'm too clumsy to ride a motorcycle, and renting a car was cost prohibitive for me, so rear-wheel drive tuk tuk it was.

Colossal Buddhas
Within Sukhothai, my favorite giant Buddhas were the colossal seated Buddha at Wat Si Chum which appears through a keyhole; Wat Sa Si, which is surrounded by pillars and a moat; and Wat Saphan Hin, which requires a short hike up a rough stone path to a hilltop view.

Mr. Vinay's English was limited and my Thai nonexistent (I found it harder to pick up than my bits of Cambodian and Lao), so we worked through ideas with a lot of sign language and laughter. He was good natured and knew the sites to perfection.

Understanding that I'm a photographer, he was mindful of lighting conditions even though it was almost impossible for me to explain those concepts to him verbally given our language restraints.

While in Cambodia, I had worked with a separate tuk tuk driver and a cultural guide. In Thailand, Mr. Vinay helped me perfectly as a hybrid of both skill sets.

During the first sunrise, we visited Wat Si Chum, and I was absolutely enthralled by the serene colossal Buddha seated in the calling the earth to witness pose (signifying the Buddha's enlightenment), with its giant right hand reaching toward the ground.

The fluid, boneless, Sukhothai style of Buddhas is my favorite. I halfheartedly took some shots but the light was very gray and flat so I told Mr. Vinay how much I loved the site but that we'd have to try again another time when the light was better.

Next, he drove me to Wat Saphan Hin, and we laughed as we hiked up the stone path while most of the city was still asleep (except for the monks in their orange robes making the alms circuit).

It was around 6, and the heavy cloud cover opened up just enough to let some soft gold sunrise light through.

By then, I was positioned on the hillside looking up at a giant standing Buddha with a hand positioned facing out and forming a dramatic contrast against the sky.

I only had a few minutes of good light before the sky closed up again but I told Mr. Vinay that because of that good few minutes, the trip was already a success.

He could tell from my expression and by my pointing out what I loved about the scene what I was after.

That set the stage for our two days working together.

I scouted all of Sukhothai Historical Park pretty quickly and, on account of the rainy weather, only stopped to shoot a little.

By the afternoon, I asked Mr. Vinay what more I could see there and he communicated that I had seen it all, so I asked him about Si Satchanalai.

He was willing to drive there and knew the sites there very well, but he said it was a long drive and that we should wait until the next day.

It was around 2 p.m., and I calculated that we still had a good four hours of light l left. It was about an hour's drive to get there.

For several minutes, we bantered back and forth about going that afternoon or waiting until the next day.

Sensing an end game, I pulled out my pocket calendar and pointed to the current day, June 29. Next, I pointed to June 30 and said that was my last day at Sukhothai. Then I pointed to July 1 and said I was taking a bus to Bangkok.

Finally, I pointed to late at night on July 1 heading into July 2 and said "airport, fly to America" and gesticulated the signs for the flight by laying my left hand out flat, running my right hand across my left palm, and making the motion of the plane taking off into the air.

He understood my urgency and, in spite of his being tired, laughed at my determination and gave me a big smile and nod.

We were off to scout Si Satchanalai.

Echoes of Angkor
The temples at Si Satchanalai were larger than those at Sukhothai, more untouched and in better condition. Hardly anyone else was around.

I felt twinges of Angkor because the temples were grander and had more echoes of the Khmer architecture. Actually, the Khmers did build the oldest structures at Sukhothai and Si Satchanalai.

During the height of Angkor power, the Khmers controlled much of present-day Thailand, though they overextended their reach so that didn't last for long.

Since I left Angkor, I've missed it, so it was nice to feel a bit of its presence right before I left Southeast Asia.

Just before sunset, Mr. Vinay drove me to an offsite section of Si Satchanalai, called Wat Phra Si Rattanamahatath Chaliang.

There, I visited three of the most beautiful giant Buddhas I saw throughout my entire trip.

One platform pilgrimage site was a double Buddha image with a larger one seated protectively behind a smaller one. Adjacent to these was a powerful colossal Buddha looking up at the sky and encased between two tall pillars.

I loved the double Buddha platform but the sunset light was directly behind them and the light was very flat. I knew that sunrise would be perfect, much to my delight and Mr. Vinay's chagrin.

When I pointed this out to him, he gave me a look as though he knew that was coming. He belly laughed so hard I thought he was going to cry but he smiled and nodded that yes, he would drive me back here at sunrise.

When we left at 5:30 a.m. on my last shooting expedition day, another monsoon started.

While I was being pelted with rain throughout the hour-long tuk tuk drive back out to Si Satchanalai, I wondered many times what I was doing.

Was the monsoon going to last 20 minutes or three hours? Was I dragging myself and poor Mr. Vinay to this remote site in vain?

What was I doing risking my life again on this totally dangerous tuk tuk through the jungle of Thailand?

By the time we got to Si Satchanalai and drove directly to the double giant Buddhas, the monsoon had finished.

I hiked through the temple clearing and started to set up my tripod and get into position to capture the hints of sunrise light on the Buddhas, both in the calling the earth to witness pose.

No one else was around. I looked at my favorite Buddhas and the sweet offerings of food and water that worshippers had left in front of them.

I watched the sky. You have to trust the sky—it will tell you everything you need to know.

Waiting in silence, I watched the sun start to break through the clouds.

In the stillness, with no one else around, I reflected on my trip, and all of the events, good and bad, that had brought me to this remote spot in Thailand at this particular moment in my life.

I reflected on how lucky I was to be alive and to have experienced everything that I had throughout my trip. I was thankful for the good things in my life and mindful that the bad things are temporary.

And then I was rewarded as gold sunrise light broke through and cast soft, even light on the Buddhas from 6:30 to 8:30. I celebrated this bit of good luck but knew that I had so much more to be grateful for than good photography shooting light.

Mindful of the time and weather (another monsoon was starting), we headed back to the main Sukhothai Historical Park so that we'd be close to town and resources. I asked Mr. Vinay to drive me by Wat Si Chum for the fourth time.

Each visit, I made a little pilgrimage but the light was never more than a dull gray. Mr. Vinay apologized for this and said that he wished that the light was better for me these past two days.

I told him that the sites were beautiful and I enjoyed my visit in spite of the monsoons and gray light.

I thanked him for his knowledge of the sites and for his understanding what types of temples I loved the most. I told him that I couldn't have seen and learned what I did without his knowledge.

Cultural exchanges
My cultural exchanges throughout the trip consisted of baffling incidents in addition to the more clear ones.

During that last Wat Si Chum visit, I ran into a Thai film crew shooting some footage of the colossal Buddha.

A monsoon was under way so I visited the site one last time under the cover of a borrowed umbrella, and the crew didn't shoot for a long time. It consisted of a lead videographer, a camera assistant or two, and a woman with notepads who appeared to be a producer of some sort.

They looked at me in my bandanna and giant backpack and spoke amongst themselves in Thai.

The men left to return to their crew van with Thai signage on the panels but the woman stayed on to speak to me in limited English.

After explaining that they were filming a cultural documentary on Thailand's history, she asked what I was doing in Thailand.

I pointed to my backpack, said it contained some big cameras and that I was a photographer. Then the clarity fell apart when she tried to ask me about my work and I tried to explain it.

Two-thirds into my trip, I had run out of business cards so had resorted to handwriting my Web site information on little scraps of paper. I handed her one and pointed to my Web site URL but it's hardly as self-explanatory an experience as seeing one of my business cards emblazoned with the mini photo of Patagonia.

After some more broken conversation in the rain, she went into the film crew's van and I went back to my tuk tuk to finish waiting out the monsoon (this one lasted a couple of hours and it's no use driving in rain like that).

After a few minutes, she appeared at my tuk tuk and asked me to come with her. Baffled, I asked her why.

Hamstrung by the language barrier, she couldn't answer why, exactly, but kept saying that I should get all of my things together and go with them—that they wanted me to join them.

I explained to her that I was leaving soon to return to America and that I wasn't sure that I could help them at all. Were they looking for another photography expert?

I really had no idea, and with the language barrier, I couldn't ascertain their interest in me. She repeated her request for several minutes but without a clear sense of why they were asking me to join them, I didn't feel right about getting in a van with a bunch of strangers right before I was due to leave the country!

*************
Oh, and as for that kiss? My flight home departed Bangkok at 6 a.m., so I had to leave my guesthouse at 3 a.m. While making my way through the dark lobby, I almost crashed into two discombobulated Frenchmen who asked what on earth I was doing up at that hour. While pointing to my expedition duffle, I said that I was going to the airport.

I asked what they were doing and they communicated in limited English that they'd made a mistake about something, where they were supposed to be or when they were supposed to be somewhere.

Unsure of their circumstances, I tried to clarify, "You had the wrong date?" And Frenchman No. 1 replied, "No, he's not my date." They disappeared down an alley. I shrugged and figured we just weren't meant to understand each other.

Then Frenchman No. 2 reappeared and asked me, "Can I give you a kiss?" In response to my deer-in-headlights look, he went on, "I love to kiss beautiful girls."

Who can resist a French accent in the middle of the night? I pointed to my cheek and then hailed a cab to the airport.

*************
My Asia travels complete for now, I've turned my globe at home to my remaining two continents: Africa and Australasia. Namibia and the South Island of New Zealand beckon.

Be brave, be adventurous and be honest. I will do the same.

Love,

Leah


Leah C. Lau
Photographer, Writer and Philanthropist
Silent Light Photography
www.leahlau.com