Snakes and shorts
(Pete on the staircase of Doi Suthep Temple: Chiang Mai, Thailand)
It was approaching evening when we arrived at this temple; shadows were already long and the light was fading with our stamina. I have to admit that we took the easy route up the mountain on a cable car, but by sunset, the heat had dissolved and we left by the stairs. The long Naga (snake) flanked stairway was being washed and the ribbons of water were trickling down, following us right to the bottom. Each scale of the dual snakes either side of us is made from a single tile, tessellating just like real scales, the body undulating with an emerald clarity. This temple is one of the most incredible sites I’ve been to in my life; in its own way it is just as astounding as a landmark in any country and as beautiful as any place of worship.
I have learned that in Asia, if there is a chance to use a working, regulated toilet, do so. One never knows when another may appear; I have never faced the actuality of not finding one, but rest assured, it would be documented here as a warning to any fellow travellers. Before I left the mountain, as Pete is here, I did disappear to the ladies but quickly discovered that the lights had all either been switched off at the mains or were malfunctioning. The cubicles were pretty dark; that hazy dark where you can make out foggy shapes but no real solid forms. Don’t worry, nothing too obvious happened, but due to the complex nature of the shorts I was sporting that day, which inexplicably boast three buttons, each of a different size and location, it was difficult to manoeuvre in the murky dimness. Whilst I had tackled this hindrance effectively, I had not anticipated one of the buttons (of course, a transparent one) popping completely off the shorts and soundlessly dropping on the damp floor. You can imagine the rest. I emerged from the lavatories with Pete flicking the lights on, quizzing me on the duration of my visit and me replying by holding a grubby button in one hand.
