I didn’t know where to begin, but I was handed a bucket and happy Retriever. Gently, she rolled onto her side and her driver, the mahout, showed me through the use of signs where I should put my efforts. If she were a dog, they’d be flea spots, but I’m not sure what you call them on an Asian elephant.
Then the elephant, whose name I didn’t catch, lifted her trunk, sprayed me with a long stream of river water and I swear I saw a delighted smirk on her face.
I don’t work in a Thai car wash, nor do I aspire to, but I wasn’t going to miss this for anything. Before you can put a saddle on an elephant, all the grit and dirt has to be removed and you do it the old fashioned way by scrubbing it off. The elephants (and travellers) enjoy it thoroughly.
We were preparing for a day long trek from the Mae Sa Elephant Camp through the jungle of the Mae Taeng Valley. Before mounting up, one of the opportunities offered is the chance to get right into the spirit of things by joining our mounts in the shallow river. We weren’t allowed to do the actual saddling, that’s exacting work best left to those who know what they re doing.
Our next step was to board the mighty beasts and head off into the jungle.
This trip had taken me from the wilds of Bangkok to the placid hills of northwestern Thailand, into the heart of the fabled Golden Triangle. Once renowned for its opium fields and bandits, the Golden Triangle has a much different reputation these days. It’s safe for Canadians and is still a place where you can make some amazing discoveries and meet some of the world’s most interesting people. Chiang Mai is the closest big city to the Mae Sa Elephant Camp and was my gateway to the Golden Triangle. This ancient city, founded in 1292 A.D. when King Mengrai made it his capital, is home to a quarter of a million people who are a mix of Thai, Burmese and ethnic Chinese. Markets and wats (temples) are good reasons to make the trip north. Chiang Mai is Thailand’s second most important city and is a cultural centre where history, arts and crafts are prized almost as highly as international business. Working on the medieval premise that good moats make good neighbours, the founders of Chiang Mai made sure they had a really good moat. It still surrounds the old city and is a large part of the city’s daily life. Kids swim in it and it’s the scene of festivals and celebrations throughout the year. None of these is more important than the Buddhist New Year: Songkran. The festival takes place from April 12 to 14 and is a combination of religious festival in which elders and monks are symbolically bathed for purification. Statues of Buddha are also washed and adorned with offerings of food, flowers and alms. But, the real festivities are the ones taking place in the streets. Songkran becomes an excuse for the Thai – normally among the politest and most reserved people on the planet – to blow off steam. In the days leading up to Songkran, the family inventory of super soakers and water balloons starts to grow. Then when the twelfth hits, so does everyone – from happy old grannies to deliriously delighted kids. The concept of a water festival and ritual bathing is taken to the extreme and anyone passing by is inundated. Unsuspecting tourists – a.k.a. farangs – are a favourite target. Star Trek borrowed this name for a race of big-eared, big-nosed alien traders called Ferengi. My friend and go-to guy, Sidiphan, showed up at my hotel on the morning of the twelfth with a big grin on his face, a Toyota pick-up truck containing a 45-gallon drum of water and a schedule only a fun-loving madman would want to follow. He had warned me that shorts and a t-shirt were the order of the day. Within minutes of his arrival we were screaming down a six-lane highway heading for the smaller villages outside Chiang Mai. As in Canada, where Halloween is celebrated with more effort in small towns, Songkran really hits flood tide in the smaller centres. Riding in the back of the pick-up, we hunkered down in the bed of the truck trying to avoid being bounced out at 120 klicks. After leaving the highway, whenever we stopped at a light or stop sign, the cars and motorcyclists who pulled up beside us were fair game and we soaked everyone from nuns to businessmen – and they gave back as good as they got. Along with the moat, a broken wall surrounds Chiang Mai’s old city centre. The wall was the city’s second line of defense and stood unsullied until the Second World War when Allied bombing took its toll. Now all that remains are a few broken sections of wall and piles of brickwork.
Still, the residents of Chiang Mai pay homage to their history by referring to the city gates that once closed off the old city from the hostile world by their gate names, even if some of the gates no longer stand.
Like a lot of countries, Thailand is made up of a number of different kingdoms. People from around Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai think of themselves as Lannas.
Chiang Mai was the capital of the Kingdom of Lan Na, which lasted 600 years until 1774 when the region was conquered and incorporated into the Kingdom of Siam.
Kham Muang or Lanna is still spoken at home; but business, education and government work is conducted in the Central Thai language spoken in Bangkok. English is also widely used throughout the city making it easy for travellers to enjoy the town with confidence.
Chiang is Lanna for a city that is large enough to be fortified and associated with royalty, and Mai means new. Historic Chiang Mai still exists in the old city and this is where you find the greatest cultural treasures in the form of historic wats.
Despite being considerably smaller than Bangkok, Chiang Mai has almost as many historic wats. These date from the city’s heyday in the 15th and 16th centuries. Thailand is predominantly Buddhist and roughly 90 per cent of the population practices Theravada Buddhism, so it’s no wonder there seems to be a wat on every corner. In Chiang Mai, the wats are the keepers of the Lanna architectural style.
Architecture is a mix of Lanna and Burmese. The Burmese conquered, lost and reconquered the Lanna for several hundred years, leaving an indelible mark on the culture.
One of the most splendid wats is the Wat Chedi Luang with its triple-roofed wihan (the main gathering hall in a wat compound). Located just off of Phra Pok Klao Road, Wat Chedi Luang marks the spot where King Mengrai was killed by lightning in 1317.
Taking my shoes off – a mark of respect – I enter the Wihan at Wat Chedi Luang. The doorposts are exquisitely carved and gilded. Inside there is a silence, which is a good thing because there is so much to see, and the tranquility makes it a good place to think about things, if you’re so inclined.
Closer to the river, just beyond the Tha Phae gate the Warorot Market and the Night Market offer shoppers a range of products from custom tailored clothing to wooden sculptures, leather goods, silverware and hill tribe crafts. The two markets are an ideal place to shop for souvenirs, but your hotel can arrange a trip out into the countryside to visit hill tribes like the Karen.
A day trip out from Chiang Mai has its own rewards. Although it’s situated in the mountains 700 kilometres north of Bangkok, Chiang Mai can get hot and sticky. A trip to the Doi Suthep – Doi Pui National Park is a brilliant cure for the heat.
Near the summit of Doi Suthep is northern Thailand’s most revered shrine. Wat Doi Suthep is a cool respite a mile above sea level, and one of the most spectacular temple complexes in the country.
Travellers can reach the temple compound by climbing the Naga Staircase, a 304-step stairway bordered by carvings of Nagas, mythical guardians that look like dragons. For the less energetic there is a funicular, which will haul you to the top in minutes.
Shops and peddlers selling everything from t-shirts to a chance to take their photograph in ethnic costumes ring the compound’s wall. I meet two young Hmong sisters who were posing for the farang’s cameras in their tribal gear. The older of the two tells me in broken English that this is how they raise money for school. Always an admirer of the entrepreneurial spirit, I part with 100 baht (Thai currency) and started clicking away.
Bidding them goodbye and moving on, I notice a monument sitting almost unobtrusively in one corner. It is the White Elephant Monument.
The legend behind the White Elephant is that the elephant belonged to King Ku Na and one day it headed up the mountain. Eventually, it stopped its forward march, trumpeted in the air and turned in a circle three times thereby selecting the site for the temple.
The elephant did a good job. Wat Doi Suthep is a magnificent island of beauty and tranquility in the cool air of the mountain’s summit.
From outside the walls, the spire of the Central Chedi hints at the magnificence. A chedi is a solid tower containing some relic of Buddha or the ashes of a king and are part of hundreds of wats around the country. Years ago in their ignorance, Westerners called these towering fingers pagodas.
Wat Doi Suthep’s Central Chedi gleams in the sun from the tons of gold leaf that covers it. Hundreds of travellers visit the temple every day, but it is still an important and active centre for religious learning and spiritual renewal. It’s not unusual to meet the orange robed priests, nuns and monks as they go about their daily business and rituals. In the main wihan, they offer blessings to everyone who approaches and those who take part in the brief ceremony come away with a simple piece of string tied around their wrist.
Somehow, for me, that piece of string came to symbolize a lot more than a two-buck donation to the temple fund. I ended up wearing it until it fell off of its own accord.
Doi Suthep’s White Elephant reminded me that I had a date the next morning with a pachyderm.
After scrubbing down our elephants, we climb a scaffold that takes us high enough to board the two-person saddles. Once seated, we head off back across the river and into the bush.
At one point during the day a woman from New York complained about being nauseous from the motion – which was like a sailboat bucking the wind – and the mahout turned around to grin at her. “Missy cannot walk. There are tigers and cobras here. Much safer on the elephant.” After which, it would have taken a substantial amount of dynamite to pry me out of that saddle.
Bathing The Elephants
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