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Wat Pho, peace, security and the stay-put Buddha


At Wat Phra Kaew, you see the utmost expression of the Thai fondness for jewels and gold leaf. At Wat Pho, you see their fondness for embelishment and, er, swimming pool tiles. Four stupas at Wat Pho are tiled, foot to pinnacle by ceramic tiles and roses. It's prettier than you'd think.

As opposed to the Grand Palace, walking around Wat Pho was pleasant. Lacking huge, blinding structures, it sprawls rather than intimidates. And the air today was more like a fair than a tourist show. There's lots to do for the Sunday worshipper - create mini sand stupas and top them with roses. Line up for a blessing from a monk seated on a high chair.
One mother approached and whispered something to the old, robed man. He looked away, seemingly thinking really deep. Then started to fumble around in a secret pocket. It took quite a while for him to extract whatever it was, so a small crowd gathered to find out what he'd reveal. Finally, he carefully slipped out a..business card, and handed it to the mother, pointing out certain things on it. Could that have been the number of a good stock broker? Is that what they meant by getting a secure and peaceful life? Should i have lined up as well?
Anyway, one could also sound a gong, meander from food stall to food stall, pour oil on the Buddha of your choice or just sit back and enjoy the canned music in the air.

I chose to see the enormous Reclining Buddha.
To impress talaga, all you have to be is reeeaaallly huuge. You can't just be big. No, that falls short of inspiring awe. You have to be 153 feet long and 50 feet high. Then you have to be lying on your side. Like a senorita about to siesta. That way, it's like you don't care. And so people get even more impressed. I of course thought, well, a big man must have big feet. So i took a look. Well, yes, they were big. Inlaid with mother of pearl too. But intact. Which means he doesn't walk around much. Pah.

What grabbed me was a constant many-clinkings sound coming from somewhere in the hall. It turns out, behind the Buddha, there is a line of 100 black bowls. There was a line of people parallel to the bowls, dropping a little coin into each one, careful not to skip. I joined them. I had no idea what it was for, but it was nice and therapeutic. I felt part of a community. I felt an affinity for everyone in my line. So much so that when the girl in front of me used up her coins I offered her some of mine. I liked the thought that I was contributing to the sound of many little coins falling into many little bowls.