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Published: April 9th 2008
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Peek-a-boo
Just cute, plain and simple. We caught the overnight train from Bangkok, on a rickety hulk of decaying metal, in a second-class, fan-cooled, seated compartment. I slept pretty well, despite the usual hullabaloo caused by the deluge of vendors pacing up and down the train, selling dried, salted squids, fried chicken, preserved fruits and beer Chang among many other things. Behind us an old woman whose deeply creased brow formed an impenetrable scowl, breathed in disconcerting rattles, suggesting imminent respiratory breakdown. In the morning a delightful toddler engaged both of us in a relentless game of peek-a-boo. Such were the memorable elements of any long distance train journey in Thailand in anything less than first class travel.
Nong Khai was not particularly remarkable. As little more than a stop off point for foreigners on Visa runs or heading into Laos, it consisted of little more than a market of token Laotian bits and pieces and foreign run bars and restaurants. The most remarkworthy thing about the place was the guest house we stayed at and it’s bizarre sculpture park.
Set at the end of a verdant, leafy cul-de-sac, lined on either side by charming houses, with small balconies and colonial style shutters, the Mut
Sculpture
The sculpture park left quite an impression. Mee guest house was calmly set on the banks of the mighty Mekong. Suited to the traveler seeking calm over adventure, it’s guests wondered shoeless or lounged in hammocks interspersed among the greenery, reading, sipping green tea and dozing. It was as peaceful as any where I had been in a long time. Unfortunately, we were only able to stay for a day and a night, but I could have stayed for a lot longer, had we been able. We read, played cards, wrote and lounged around, as we waited for Zac, a teacher we had been friends with in Chumphon, who would accompany across the border and beyond. The morning before he came we went out to the reputable sculpture park to check out what else Nong Khai had to offer.
Built in the 1970s by a well-to-do Laotian venturing away from the oppressive Laos Communists, the park was constructed entirely out of bricks and cement, creating an eccentric bricolage of Buddhist-Hindu inspired sculptures. Referencing numerous deities and icons, the park was filled with strange figures contorted into all manner of strange positions, furnished with peculiar gestures and facial expressions. This tribute set itself in an interesting juxtaposition
Into the mouth
Abundant weirdness.
with the other religious iconography and structures that Thailand is strewn with: the generic, unreserved approach to religion, the ostentation, grandeur and exaggeration, was here contrasted with the unique interpretation of the artist, set in the crudest and most versatile building material to hand. Religion is a dominant force in Thai culture, to the extent that criticism can be treated as a crime: monks and other icons are treated with the utmost respect in all areas of society and this is scrupulously expected of all Thai people and visitors to the country as well. And there was nothing ambiguous about the motivation behind the construction and organisation of the park. It is reverential, respectful and celebratory in it’s own eccentric way. The Grand Palace in Bangkok- as I understand it, the most extravagant of all of Thailands religious centres- houses the highly revered Emerald Buddha, is resplendent with ornate buildings, fixtures and murals, and it’s use of gold leaf far exceeds that of any other temple that I had ever seen in the country. But in the sculpture park one could climb through the concrete jaws of a giant stone toad, and walk around an enclosure, confronting a bemusing array
Zac and the Mekong
We met this man in Nong Khai, and he convinced us to smuggle him over the Mekong. of figures, proceeding later to stand with a puzzled look at the foot of one of the numerous ten or more feet tall sculptures, for a long time, baffled. There were concrete representations of all kinds of weird creatures the like of which only served to baffle me further. The Grand Palace and all the other temples are impressive, all the more so because they are a modern expression of a nations fervent religiosity: in secular Britain there aren’t places like that. The experience of the Sculpture Park was all the more poignant for that reason. However, what it also demonstrated was the extent to which Thailand was so comfortably aligned with the West. For, along with all of the tacky, cheap souvenirs aimed at roving tourists throughout Thailand, of which it’s religious heritage was the subject, the Park demonstrated that it’s religiosity was an integral part of it’s identity and that it would adapt to use whatever materials- in this case concrete- to express this important aspect. This was Thailand, no matter what the world dealt it.
For me, this was reassuring. What it suggested was that whatever idea Thai people had of who they were and what Thailand was could survive under changing circumstances. Or something like that anyway! Again, this I will explore more elsewhere, for it’s not really the traditional talk of travel logs. Bear in mind also that I am writing this in China, more than two weeks later! Ok.
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