Around the World in 80 Dinners - Bill Jamison [58]
The temple dates back to the fourteenth century, when the discovery of a new relic of the Buddha required the building of a wat to honor it. According to official lore, the King of Lanna decided that a sacred white elephant should pick the proper site, so he sent one to wander freely with the relic. The elephant climbed to the summit of Doi Suthep mountain, trumpeted three times, and lay down, indicating his selection. The relic went inside the arresting gilded-copper chedi built on the center of the site.
On the drive back to town, Vithi notices an elderly couple on the side of the highway making traditional tubes of rice, an item he had pointed out to us this morning in the market. Unable to resist an instructional opportunity, he pulls over to show us how it’s done. The man stuffs rice soaked in coconut milk into a bamboo tube, about eight inches long, sealing it at each end with coconut-husk plugs. The woman roasts the tubes in an upright row over a wood-coal fire. When the rice is cooked, she strips away the charred outer layer of bamboo, revealing a pretty green carrying case for the simple meal. Vithi buys one to share with us—a toasty and succulent snack—but we have to leave Pheng out of the tasting because his vows prohibit him from eating after noon for the rest of his life. “Yikes,” Bill exclaims, “that’s as tough a choice as chastity.”
After a quick circuit of two other wats in the old walled city, Vithi drops us back at our hotel around sunset. He offers to take us along with him and Pheng tonight to a temple fair and a transvestite beauty pageant, which we should have done, but instead we want to see the Night Bazaar, always described as one of the city’s main attractions, and check out the street-food stalls at the nearby Anusarn Market. Within five minutes, the stifling bazaar appalls us. Every vendor seems to be peddling the same T-shirts, pirated DVDs, and cheap trinkets, and the maze of narrow, crowded passageways is lined with small booths too tall to see over, creating a sense of confinement and leading to disorientation.
Lost after a while, we never find the food stands and finally stumble, as a last resort, into one of the touristy Thai restaurants Vithi has warned us about. From the English menu, each of us orders a whole deep-fried fish in different preparations. The “sweet, sour, and spicy” sauce could be better described as insipid, and the other dish’s “spicy” mango salad fits its name only if you classify sugar as such a seasoning. “Ugh,” Bill says. “That’s one of the worst meals yet in a month of travel.”
“And some of it even stuck with me,” Cheryl complains, pulling a Tide to Go stick from her purse to dab a red spot on her blouse.
The next day is devoted mostly to visiting Lampang, Vithi’s hometown, with an intermediate stop at the National Elephant Institute. For the road trip, more than an hour each way, Vithi recommends we rent a van, figuring it will be more comfortable than his small car for four adults, including Pheng. The rental agency is out of standard vans, but Vithi negotiates a deal for an oversized one, complete with driver, for the same price. Able to really spread out now, we can hardly even see one another.
Organized sightseeing excursions from Chiang Mai often take tourists to various elephant camps that offer a pony-ride atmosphere, but the government-funded institute exists for the benefit of the giant mammals rather than entertainment. The elephants roam freely in an enormous forest reserve, returning to the central area at regular times for food, health monitoring, and training. Many of them suffered abuse in the past from private owners, and others endured serious injuries in the wild.
Vithi, a patron of the program, shows us the elephant hospital, the first in the world. It reminds us of a do-it-yourself car wash with a dozen or so