I’m sitting on a plastic chair in a nondescript food canteen at the top of a jungle-clad mountain in Thailand. The air is thick and mist slouches low over canopy tops. It’s not condensation from the cold or altitude, even at this height, it’s still 35 degrees and the air is dense, humid and spicy.
I stare at my cold beer as it drips beads of condensation that succumb to the heat before trickling down onto the cheap plastic tablecloth. All the tables are the same… a quintessential visual hiccup that’s seen in so many Thai road-side eateries. Pink plastic containers holding condiments of soy sauce, chilli, vinegar and sugar hold down laminated tablecloths, stopping them from floating away on the mountain wind.
I’m exhausted. I’ve forced my 150cc Honda Scooter up Chiang Mai’s tallest mountain against its will to reach the incredible Doi Suthep.
It is one of the most peaceful places I’ve experienced on planet earth. Nothing offends the silence of the eerily mute jungle and breezy mountain here except for the sweet ding of Buddhist temple bells dancing in delight to an unpredictable (and much welcomed) breeze.
Even the jungle is nothing like what we have in Australia. These mountains aren’t a typical kids-drawing-style of trees with neat trunks and considerate leaves that burst symmetrically from branchy tops. Here, there is no separation between tree, shrub, plant, vine or cliff face. Instead, it all becomes one eclectic singular web of bright green growth that consumes everything in every direction.
I’m here to climb up to the temple today. I’m excited to reach the repetitive stairs that cut a neat and straight path to a golden, ornate gate that opens into an awe-inspiring temple spire with every depiction of Buddha imaginable.
But, I’m not ready yet.
When we travel, we often just move manically from significant site to famous landmark followed by a local bar without stopping to consider the sheer significance of the experience and appreciate how far we are from our geographic ‘home’.
Right now, I feel I need to stop, pause, honour the moment, appreciate where I am and make sure I take in all Doi Suthep has to offer, which I know, will be an assault on the senses.
I order a ‘large Chiang’ as a wise, elderly woman sits in the corner, smiling, watching and thinking. Thais, in general, seem to be able to quiet their minds and just be content with their thoughts. You’ll often catch them in what seems like a deliberate tableau, paused in thought with no distraction. A world away from my daily Sydney commute with the zombies plugged into reality-muting headsets and glued to reality-denying ‘smart’ screens.
I’m scared to simply go up there to Doi Suthep in this day-and-age. It’s all more complicated now.
I came here once in 2001 and again in 2009. It was simpler back then. There weren’t any smartphones or dominant social media enticing me to share every moment instantly. Now, we tend to share so much of ourselves and the experience that there’s nothing left of the moment in the end. Just a fragmented visual byte encoded in ones and zeros and scrolled over by frantic, impatient thumbs on news feeds.
The problem is that we now focus so much on footage for YouTube, Facebook and Instagram that we have become ‘experience collectors’ rather than travellers (let alone explorers).
I’ve arrived, frazzled and exhausted from Chiang Mai traffic and steep, hairpin bends that climb so steep you feel as though you’re defeating physics so, for now, I need to just pause.
I want this experience to change me. I want to learn from it and appreciate what it offers, not just ‘collect’ it and share it in curated travel highlight reels to the envy of friends back home.
Even now, I watch tourists shuffling up and down the ancient staircase. They shunt along this sacred mountain only pausing to erect selfie-sticks or purchase Buddha statues to display back home on plain shelves in mundane suburban homes.
After some time of rest, I wind my way up the initial hill past Buddha statue vendors and wind-chime-pushers and cross the road to find myself below the soft flutter of prayer flags and the staccato dings of bells beneath two giant Buddhas nested into the mountainside.
I start the stairs, pausing regularly to photography and film (as well as catch my breath). I had planned to film an ‘opener’ at the top, revealing the temple entrance but when I finally reach it, I’m overcome by the beauty of the temple that all cameras and gadgets (smart or dumb) lay dormant by my side as I slip off my sandals and tread the smooth, hot marble steps leading into the main temple. (For those playing at home, I went back again to film the opener in the video above! 🙂 )
I’m immediately struck by gold that seems golder-than-gold. Now, I know that sounds ridiculous, but somehow, these temple spires seem to shine brighter than the sun, constantly refracting and playing with sunlight as it flares back through camera lenses creating beautiful effects.
I circle the gleaming tapered spire, watched on by hundreds of depictions of Buddha from reclining Buddhas, to meditating Buddhas and many more. The surrounding temples frame the main forecourt with classic Thai-temple-roofs. Their layered peaks drip with golden bells, creating an enchanting melody that resonates throughout the whole temple.
People walk in slow-motion, eyes closed holding incense and lotus flowers as they chant and circle the spire.
I’ve always felt compelled to join one of these rituals but, I’ve also felt awkward. Like a Western tourist trying to be a poser in what’s meant to be something deeply sacred. However, this time, I decided to join in. For 30 Thai Baht, I purchase my offering of a lotus and incense stick and I’m told to circle the spire three times in a clockwise direction.
I’m nervous.
But, as I approach the spire, there’s a gleaming silver bowl filled with laminated cards. The cards contain chants and one of them is in English and includes instructions which puts me at ease.
The ground is hot underfoot from the midday sun but I begin my walk, holding my flower, incense and laminated card and begin to read the chant. It’s in Pali – the ancient language of the Buddha – I have no idea what it means but it sounds beautiful coming out of my mouth and feels good doing it. Almost like a walking meditation.
With renewed confidence and feeling very peaceful, I fall into a dark temple where there’s a crowd kneeled in front of a monk. I see other Western tourists kneeling so I join in. Well, I’m not at all flexible and I’ve never been a great kneeler but, I do my best.
A wise-looking monk sits on an elevated bench, eyes closed and chants. As he does, he places a bunch of wooden reeds into a bowl of water and flicks it over us for good blessing (so I gather). I’m used to other temples like in India where the only do this sort of thing for money in return (especially for foreigners) but, no one asks for anything as I go from kneeling to stand awkwardly like someone three-times my age.
I wander the spire again to the temple on the opposite side which contains a similar scene. However, in this case, people kneel in line before speaking with the monk who ties a string bracelet around their wrist and chants. Again, I decided to (try to) kneel in the queue.
I’m nervous as it comes to my turn however, the monk beams a beautiful smile. I greet him with sawasdee kap and bow and he smiles more.
“Where you from”? he asks
“Australia”
“Oh, lovely! Your Thai is very good”.
He smiles again and begins to chant as he ties the piece of string around my wrist. It ends with a “kaup kun kap” (Thank You) and he waves and smiles. What a beautiful experience.
I spent several hours at Doi Suthep. Apart from the main forecourt and surrounding temples, you can explore the gardens and the “lookout” where you can get a grasp of just how high up you are. I only put “lookout” in inverted commas as it’s so hot, humid and steamy that it’s hard to make out what’s beneath you. This simply adds to the mystique of the temple as you feel as though you’re above the clouds.
Doi Suthep continues to be my favourite global temple and a beautiful peaceful, spiritual place. Do not visit Chiang Mai without visiting Doi Suthep.
I go to leave the temple but, as I’m riding away, a moody Thai-oriental number blasted from oversized roadside speakers gets my attention. If I’m honest, the giant ‘Chiang Beer’ sign probably helps in terms of attention-grabbing.
I kick the side stand of my motorbike down, remove my sweaty helmet and make my way to the entrance.
A water-fountain deliberately but delicately overflows between grey-stone Buddha statues made in the welcoming pose… It’s too much to resist. I have one cold Chiang beer before the Honda and I descend the mountain feel peaceful and rejuvenated.
