Wat a Wonderful World

 "...Yes the world is the best place of all
for a lot of such things as
making the fun scene
and making the love scene
and making the sad scene
and singing low songs and having inspirations
and walking around
looking at everything
and smelling flowers
and goosing statues
and even thinking
and kissing people and
making babies and wearing pants
and waving hats and
dancing
and going swimming in rivers
on picnics
in the middle of the summer
and just generally
'living it up'..."

-The World is A  Beautiful Place, Lawrence Fahrlengetti

 Wat Chalong is the largest temple complex in Phuket, though any aspect of the sacred is utterly overwhelmed by the carnival that's grown around it like weeds choking an untended garden. Walking through the gate I feel more like I'm entering the fairgrounds of the annual Red River Ex than a place of meditative worship.

I push through the crowds, past the hawkers and their stalls filled with every conceivable consumer good from beach balls and sandals to kitchen pots and pirated DVD's. The late afternoon heat steams up from the asphalt and molders amidst the sticky human throng but if I keep my face turned towards the peacock blue sky there is a great red and gold spire pointing towards the heavens.

When I finally reach it the gates are closed, only monks are allowed to enter, and I find I suddenly have a lot of space around me as I'm the only person interested in the temple or the neglected lotus pond beside it.

I play with my camera until the smells from the food stalls and the setting sun remind me of dinner. I wander around the perimeter, past the massage and karaoke stalls, past the carousel and mechanical swings, to the food alleys where practically every creature that can be dregged up from the ocean is being roasted on a stick and offered up on a plate with an infinite selection of accompanying sauces.  There are earthly critters too, pan fried beetles and catepillars alongside frog kebobs and mysterious meat stews. I settle for chicken sate, fresh squeezed mango juice and a bag of popcorn to enjoy with a movie when I get back to the hostel.

Neon lights are flickering on, the electricity that moves through the frayed wires filling the air with a cicada like thrum as I wander back to the gate. I approach a mini bike driver standing awkwardly by the road and point to the giant buddha sitting atop a distant ridge silhouetted by the greying dusk sky.

"How much?" I ask.

"400," he says, hopping from one foot to the other, adding, "long way, very long way."

"Okay," I say. "Let's go."

It's a two minute drive down the highway before he turns off onto a gravel road that passes through a small town where he stops for gas. He hops with a nervous energy even as he uncaps the water bottle full of fuel and dumps it into the tank. The owner of the convenience store, round and serene as Buddha himself, says to me, "You go Buddha?"

I nod and he nods quietly back. My driver says something in rapid Thai, slaps his thigh, then hops back on the bike. Even though he chatters for most of the drive, I like him. He doesn't make me wear a helmet and he speaks mostly in noises, trying to convey to me that the road is very dangerous and we may, at any moment go flying through the air. I suspect that the odds of this occurring are becoming exponentially greater every time his hands leave the handlebars to make the universal gesture of being airborne and crashing but it makes me laugh all the same and my laughter seems only to encourage him.

The road twists up the side of the hills and the air cools quickly as we climb past cafes, restaurants and viewpoint bars. We round a bend to find elephants grazing and a sign offering rides for only 1500 baht. I've never seen an elephant in nature and have always thought of them as slow, melancholy creatures but here they swing their trunks in a seemingly playful wave, they grin mischievously and I half expect them to wink as we pass.

By the time we reach the top, the sun has almost disappeared. Still, standing at the foot of this mass of stone carved in the image of the most benevolent being I am awed. I walk up the steps, wander around the monument, still under construction, and watch the last rays of dusk disseminate over the city below.

I consider how utterly fortunate I am to not have missed this moment. It's corny to the point of treacle, but whenever I am struck by moments like these- left breathless from the blows of amazement at my life since crawling from the valley of shadows-I recall the people I've met and their stories, the people who still love me in spite of me, the places and creatures I've seen, and I can't help but concur with the sentiments of a certain jazz singer, the world really is pretty freaking wonderful.