Scammed. Twice. Only one thwarted. Trying to put it out of my mind (it was less than £1, but he managed to get over double the price out of me) but it irks me and creates such a negative impression of the place. Cancelling my ticket at the train station (I’ve decided to fly to Hanoi tomorrow), she gave me a refund of 612,000 VND. Luckily, my hotel had called to check the terms and I knew I was due 646,000 VND. I showed her the value on my phone. She didn’t even try to argue. She was just going to pocket the difference. Just bad practice, and it gets really tiring constantly having to look out for yourself. Glad I’m leaving tomorrow.
I remember, on Michael Jackson’s birthday, someone saying: “Michael is 50 today. Well, bits of him are, anyway”. Same goes for Hue’s Imperial City. Built between 1804 and 1833 by the Nguyen dynasty (reign: 1802-1945), it was bombed in WWII and the Vietnam War so not much of it is still alive. And even that looks pretty dead in places!:
And in the Vietnam way that I’m becoming used to, it’s been completed renovated and restored. Fairly often. So whilst some of the buildings were good to see:
… I was looking at the new version, which isn’t quite the same. But then a flattened citadel isn’t much of a tourist attraction. Thai Hoa Palace (meaning “supreme harmony palace”) is the most important building in the collection of residential, religious, commerical and educational buildings on the site, which is, unsurprisingly designed to “well-proportioned principles”:
Used for royal occasions, such as birthdays, coronations and receiving foreign visitors, it was spared by the two wars, but has still been rebuilt. Twice. Only 20% of it is original.
Rehearsals in the theatre were the most interesting thing – it was great to see the place was alive:
… along with some displays of musical instruments:
… although, as warned, the information was limited:
Perhaps it would have been more impressive if it wasn’t grey with rain:
Then I spied this little thing (it was only about 2cm in length, which is tiny in these parts):
Design inspiriations obviously came from far afield. Try telling me that this designer hadn’t seen a London phone box and the Tardis:
Disillusioned with moto drivers, I decided that the rest of the day would be spent walking. And glad I did, as I stumbled across the real part of Hue:
The real houses:
And, er, toilets (sorry, couldn’t resist snapping him):
As I walked towards a lady using a stick artfully, I thought she was painting. Reality check. These people don’t have hobbies – they spend their time living and working. Like mountain biking, the idea of doing something purely for the joy of it is a privilege they don’t have. But their mobility still amazes me:
Ong Pagoda was my nominal destination, but not only did it appear to be closed, it didn’t appear to ever be open. A monk came to check me out, obviously decided I was harmless and wandered off. It was clearly a working temple and I include this picture of what seemed to be their cafeteria because it’s so unremarkable. Which is, in itself, remarkable:
Passed a Co-op Mart, and their version of home delivery based, of course, on scooters (what did you expect?!):
And hit rush hour as I walked over the bridge. With few “rules of the road” everyone was just getting stuck in. The traffic was at a standstill. Couldn’t help but think there was a better way of doing things…
Came back wet and tired, but feeling like I’d seen a little bit of the real Hue 🙂
Ken learnt his (rather good) English from the Harry Potter movies. “You talk like Harry”, he enthused. I’d got to the Grand Palace before the crowds, bought a ticket and spent some time with the “Emerald Buddha” (those who discovered him thought he was made of emerald as they’d never heard of jade, and the name stuck). He has three costume changes: hot season, rainy season and cold season.
I decided to get a guide. The place was huge and, unlike Wat Pho, information boards were non-existent. Signed up for the free tour (which wasn’t advertised), and I was the only one. So it was just me and Harry. I mean, Ken.
The temple of the Grand Palace has no monks as it is a royal temple, so is a mixture of religion (ordination room, Buddhist shrine) and royalty (buildings to house the accoutrements and remains of past kings).
It was originally built in wood, due to lack of funds, by King Rama I. By the time his grandson (King Rama III – they display a distinct lack of imagination when naming their offspring) reigned, Siam was more prosperous due to trade with China, and he had it covered with gold leaf (which only took three years to complete because everyone came to help), and then “jewels” (glass). Four colours of glass represent the four elements: red (fire), blue (water), silver (air) and yellow (earth):
Around the temple are galleries (much like “cloisters”) with “the world’s longest painting” (according to Ken; according to Google that’s in Eritrea) depicting the story of how the queen was captured by demons and humans enlisted help of monkeys (who could make themselves super-strong and grow three extra pairs of arms) to defeat them and rescue her. School children learn the story and study sections of it much like our nativity story and the Bible.
There was also a rather impressive model of Angkor Wat (the main attraction in Cambodia) as it used to “belong” to Siam (when they invaded Cambodia; it was then subsequently invaded by the French):
The main residential building of the Grand Palace itself is built in the French style, supposedly to show more developed nations that “they could do it, too”. At this point Ken also referred to Buckingham Palace.
The princess doesn’t live in the main building, but a plainer edifice behind it, as she married a commoner, thus diluting the royal blood line – whilst she retains her title, none of her offspring have royal status (in fact, her son was killed in the tsunami, and did not get a royal burial).
And then Ken pointed to it – an imitation Buckingham Palace… but it’s in Thailand, so the king had a Thai roof put on it. And it has a French interior.
And it comes complete with guards (with a different hat because our furry variety is way too hot for here) and tourists:
Seriously, you couldn’t make this up!
I also saw the throne room. It actually has two thrones because the original (by Rama I), is triangle-shaped and uncomfortable to sit in so Rama III had another one made. When ordained, the new king is given five things by his predecessor:
Crown (power)
Sword (military victory)
Staff (longevity)
Fan (health – to bat away disease)
Shoes (care of the people)
The gold crown (7.3kg) and shoes (6.5kg) are heavy, so he keeps all this stuff in his bedroom!
A museum of coins, medals and royal paraphenalia was mediocre. When I emerged at about 1:30pm the main palace entrance was absolutely heaving – so glad I got before all the tour parties arrived. Then to the “Queen Sirikit Textile Museum” that was also included in the ticket price. Clothes aren’t really my thing (if you hadn’t already worked that out!), but it was actually quite interesting (no photos allowed for obvious reasons). And the exit, as per usual, was via the gift shop. But this was like no other I’ve seen – instead of the usual tat of pencils, jars of jam, branded poor-quality chocolate and plastic stuff, it was filled with fabrics, clothes and a variety of items made using Thai silk, supporting a charity that supports local Thai craftspeople. Quality items from table runners, toiletry bags and picture frames to scarves, hand bags and key rings:
Then I wandered back to my hotel, via Khao San Road, to further cries of “Tuk-tuk?”
Unofficial contracts are often stronger than official ones. Breaking the latter usually has a defined financial penalty that is clearly stated in writing, whereas breaking an unofficial contract jeopardises the fabric upon which it is built, with potential social, reputational and/or psychological implications. The agreement between Bangkok and its tourists seems to be: You shall not take advantage of the numerous opportunities to walk off without paying (because a £1.80 dinner bill is not worth negotiating the Thai legal system for); and we shall not overtly steal your stuff… but apart from that, you’re fair game including, but not limited to, gratuitous overcharging and luring you into compromising situations.
And so to “The Grand Palace” amidst cries of “tuk-tuk?” and “Where you going?” (the last word pronounced with only one syllable). It’s hot here, but I like to walk – you don’t just see more, you feel more. But it’s unusual… and it means you’re fodder.
I aborted the Grand Palace plan when I saw the throngs outside – inside could only be worse. It was already late (jet lag and a poor nights’ sleep having caught up on me) and I didn’t think I’d get round – it looked big. Postponed until tomorrow.
“Wat Pho” (Temple of the Reclining Buddha), on the other hand, was round the corner, smaller and open til 5:30. He’s big, he’s gold…
and he’s currently having a pedicure.
He was impressive, but not as much as the building he was in: intricate paintings, ornate with bling.
Many visitors buy a dish of coins, dropping a coin in each of a line of larger bowls along the wall. It’s for good luck. It’s amazing what people will do for “good luck”. I believe you make your own luck 😉
But it’s the diagrams and their associated medical descriptions for which the temple most respected. They form the basis of Thai massage and herbal medicine and are still referred to today.
The main Buddhist shrine was relatively calm, albeit with a touristy vibe.
Shoes off, and if you want to take them in with you, they have to be in a bag (feet are considered “dirty”, as opposed to the head which is revered – never touch a Buddhist’s head without permission). For females, shoulders and knees are to be covered (nothing mentioned about chesticles/cleavage though, which was odd), so there was a supply of shawls and skirts outside. I’d done my research and knew the etiquette… and then had totally forgotten. Wasn’t best pleased with myself (although, to be fair, I’d planned to visit the Grand Palace).
For men, anything goes (and did!).
A Buddha’s hat top, ears and hand position give away the era in which they were made. For example, this one is fairly recent as it has a pointed hat top (as opposed to more rounded), long curved ears (earlier versions’ are less exaggerated) and curved palms (not straight fingers):
And notably for a monastery, there weren’t many monks and very few natives. Decorations were ornate and impressive. Not my style, admittedly, but you don’t have to like something to be able to admire it 😉
Three things gave away that I was in a non-touristy area:
Only official signs were translated
Shop owners didn’t hassle me as I walked past (although I clearly wasn’t the target audience for the one selling twice life-size, spray-painted gold Buddhas)
Only a few tuk-tuks went past, and those that did were either carrying locals or didn’t shout at me
Starving – it was now 4:30 and I’d only had a slice of melon all day (afterwards, I realised, that I paid double the going rate for it – you can’t let it get to you, but it does leave a bad taste). Stopping at a stall with appetising fish cakes, I asked how much they were. “One is 5 baht (9p)”, she said, holding up a splayed hand. I nodded and said, “Three, please”, holding up three fingers. She hesitated, then gave me my lunch. She thought I was haggling with her! I realised as I sat and ate. If you, gracious lady, have the courtesy to quote a fair price, I will have the grace to accept. They were delicious.
I stumbled across Saranrom Park. London could learn a lot from Bangkok. Free, open-air gyms like this one were clearly well-used:
There was a fully equipped outdoor weights’ area, too. A running track round its circumference had a steady stream of walkers, plodders and runners and there were also activities for the more sedate:
And there was interesting wildlife (sorry, no bugs this time):
And here’s the “car park”:
On the way back into town, I stopped at a cashpoint as I was running low. What do you mean, transaction not authorised? Maybe it’s the machine. New machine, same message. Oh dear, oh dear. I started to work out whether I could survive on what I had left. Just, but I couldn’t actually do anything. Pants. Don’t panic, don’t panic, I thought. Perhaps it’s just coz you’re out of town and they’re not used to foreign cards.
“Where you from?”, Red Shirt asked. I’d arrived outside a temple.
“London*. Where you from?”
“Chiang Mai.” He proceeded to tell me about his holiday and warn me of pickpockets in the area. “It’s free after 6”, said White Shirt, coming to join us. I looked at my watch – it was 5pm. “That’s a long time to wait, I think I’ll just go in.”
“You see the big Buddha?” asked White Shirt.
“Wat Pho?”
“No Wat Pho,” he scoffed, “The Big Buddha. It is 45m high. I show you on map”. I handed it over and he drew a rectangle on it. “I take you there. Forty baht, and I bring you back here”. Right, so you’re offering to take me to an amazing temple that is not marked on any map, not mentioned in any guidebooks, happens to be open until 9pm (other temples seem to close to visitors at 6pm), is just out of town and you were able to pinpoint it without actually looking at my map? And despite the distance usually costing 150-200B, you’re offering to do it for 40B? What a lovely man… or an unscrupulous little sh*t. Despite a tendency (to a fault) of seeing the best in people, I concluded the latter and went into the temple. It later dawned on me that Red Shirt was similarly-intentioned but had been much more subtle – trying to build rapport and gain my trust, before suggesting something “not in my best interests”. I would never have got in a vehicle with either of them, but it shook me a little.
If Buddha was offended by my shoes and knees (no bags or skirts available), he didn’t show it. I’d like to think, however, that he liked the fact that in his temple I found very welcome respite to sit, think, cry, smile and wonder. How different this temple: the same ornate decoration, but peaceful. Only me, Buddha and a few natives. Oh, and quite a lot of monks about the place (no photo out of courtesy; I was fed up with being a tourist and felt the deal was two-way).
*It’s just easier – trying to explain more precisely is time-consuming and unnecessary. And I think I’m close enough to London to be fairly accurate. On a global scale, anyway.
Getting money was now top priority – if I couldn’t use my card I needed to think of Plan B fast. I had other options, of course, but they weren’t ideal.
Are you happy that we apply this grossly unfavourable exchange rate and also fleece you £3.92 for using this service?, the machine back in the tourist area asked.
Yes, very happy, very happy… JUST GIVE ME SOME MONEY!
It spewed out two high denomination bank notes (worth a grand total of about 40). I relaxed and went for another massage.
Later that evening I had to make a call to sort out some finances. I was worried – I’d received a text from Vodafone when I arrived in Bangkok saying, “Welcome to Thailand. As you’re in our Rest of World Zone it costs 80p/min to make a call and 75p/min to receive one.” It then detailed the text and data changes. But I thought I’d signed up to Vodafone World Traveller meaning I could pay 5GBP per 24-hour period to access my UK allowances. So why the text message? I was confused… and really concerned I’d return home to a huge bill. So I called Vodafone. It took a while – David confirmed I was signed up, but couldn’t confirm if/how I’d been billed the one time I’d used the service thus far. Eventually, he made a note on my account, then explained that I could use my UK allowance for 5GBP/day and recommended that I keep the text with the charges. “When you’ve run out of your allowance, these are the rates that you’ll be charged for making calls…”
“… err… I’m on an unlimited voice, text and data package.”
There was a pause. “You’ve just made my day,” he said.
