This realm of death...

I'm sitting down to a breakfast of intense coffee from the Thai Highlands, and a plate of fruit that was delivered to the hotel by motorbike several minutes after I ordered. The sweet and bitter flesh will hopefully balance the excesses of yesterday evenings encou8nters with deep-fried foods of various complexions: crispy pork fat, chicken gristle in batter and sesame seeds, small fish fried whole and bursting with roe, and several plates of tempura-style prawns, each of which cost no more than 60p. The night bazaar was bright and busy, with beautiful local silks and dubious 'silver' jewelry for sale. On one sidew of the market area was was a plaza with comfortable wooden benches and burning mosquito coils, a ladyboy show on the stage and menus in English. On the other side was a much wider space crowded with yellow metal tables and chairs, surrounded by small stalls where the various creatures on offer were displayed before being chosen by customers. Thais sat at tables sharing bottles of whiskey and portable dispensers of draught Singha. The same ladyboys came to the stage for a short show, and were replaced by local musicians who sang western-style pop songs in Thai through the huge soundsystem. On many tables were portable braziers beneath pots of soup, into which are put the raw ingredients to complete the dish: cabbage and beansprouts, pork flesh and liver, and an egg which is cooked at the end, thickening and flavouring. The steam from dozens of these hotpots wafted across the plaza, mingling with the smell of a hundred red-hot woks where food sizzled and popped, before being served smoking-hot to the crowds whose appetite seems endless.

Earlier in the day, after arriving from Pai, we'd been unimpressed with Chiang Rai's functional, service-industry feel. The journey had been uncomfortable: the first driver threw the small bus angrily into the bends in the road between Pai and Chiang mai, pushing past the traffic at every opportunity. We passed monks collecting alms in the early morning light, their orange robes flashing past as we sped along. Increasing speed through a village that lined a long stretch of straight road, we came to a sudden, jolting halt, the sound of screeching tyres almost lost beneath that of the blaring horn. A barefoot monk looked on as the bus approached a dog, frozen in fear in the middle of the road. Their eyes shared a widening look of horror before the dog disappeared undert ehy front of the vehicle as the driver slowed too late to a stop. As the monk stooped to look under the wheels the driver accelerated and drove off, leaving the dog to its uncertain fate.



After we found a place to stay in Chiang Rai, and were served spicy papaya salad by an amused vendor at the bus station, we hopped on a hot and crowded bus to Wat Rong Khun, about 13 Km south of the city. The temple is almost beyond description: a vision placed perfectly between heaven and hell. The bone-white structure blazed in the sun, but everywhere the eye was drawn by the realized imagination of the temple's designer. Traffic cones of cast iron line the road, the red and white topped with skulls that face in four directions, grinning into infinity. Dragons and monsters stare down from every surface, and everywhere are reminders of human mortality. Impressed into the skeletal white structure are millions of tiny mirrors that catch the reflection of the heavens and pierce the eyes, blending together the power of the skies with the hard realities of the earth. White fish swim in the moat, and even the barriers erected to prevent access to unfinished areas are topped with ornamental lotus flowers that mimic the roofs of the temple buildings. The causeway that leads to the temple is guarded by monstrous creatures who fight back the denizens of hell whose hands reach up from the ground, clutching towards the faithful as they ascend towards heaven. Inside the crystal stucture itself sits a serene Buddha who gazes out towards the sun. The back wall of the temple is decorated with a fantastic mural that is a riot of the imagination. The entrance and exit is through the mouth of a vast skull, the window above the door its empty nose, its wild eyes looking down at the Buddha who gazes calmy back. At the apex of the roof Buddha is seated on yet another skull, quietly conquering death. Below him spacehsips fly through the cosmos, aliens destroy city buildings, and a cast of unexpected characters appear: Superman, Spiderman, Neo from The Matrix. In the north-east corner Darth Vader stares irresistibly up at you through his dark mask.

Despite the potential for meaningless absurdity, the combination of traditional Buddhist imagery and post-modern science fantasyu somehow creates a profound sense of temporal movement, an impression of the modernity and relevance of Thai Buddhist belief. In the seriousness of the symbolism of death is a great humour that laughs openly at the reminders of mortality that are everywhere. It's at once the strangest and most beautiful place of worship I have ever seen.

On the way home, having foolishly neglected to fathom a means to return to the city, we wandered up the highway towards Chiang Rai. An unpromising stretch of road, we turned back towards the temple, when a policeman stepped out of a small building as we passed. 'Chjiang Rai?', he asked, before taking out his mobile phone. We heard the inevitable 'Falang', and 'Chiang Rai', before he snapped his phone shut and said, 'Five minute.' We asked ifd the bus stopped there, and he said, 'No bus, my friend.' We assumed it would be a taxi-driving acquaintance, but  his friend duly arrived in a crowded pick-up, and we climbed into the back for an open-air ride. When we arrived back at the bus station they were uninterested in petrol money for journey, but later I discovered that I'd left my hat in unintentional payment...