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Subject: Thai Tales (take 3)
Date: Wed, 24 Sep 2003 23:44:28 -0600
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<P>6am.&nbsp; Orange-robed monks with bare feet glide&nbsp;in and out of the fog drenched streets, accepting scoops of rice in silver pots&nbsp;from all the open doorways of the neighbourhood.&nbsp; The sun is hidden, but suffuses the mist with pearly light.&nbsp; Everyone goes about their business silently, like ghosts.</P>
<P>On the&nbsp;very edge of town, bordering the still waters of the wide bay, the temple mount rises into the clouds.&nbsp; Perched at the very top, coexisting peacefully, the shrines to Buddha and the monkey god gleam in the&nbsp;golden glow of dawn.&nbsp; At the bottom, an endless parade of monks and monkeys drift through the richly appointed temple compound, the&nbsp;overflowing rice pots of the first guaranteeing the loyal presence of the second.&nbsp; Kittens playfully chase the monkeys tails, or sleep alongside them in the shade of the opulent peaks and spires.&nbsp; I make my way through all these silently active figures towards the&nbsp;base of the shrine staircase on the side of the mountain in amazement.</P>
<P>At the foot of the mountain, I am engulfed&nbsp;by a multitude of curious simians.&nbsp; Most of the wiry, sand-coloured creatures are still babies.&nbsp; They come right up to me, hold out their tiny, perfect&nbsp;hands, but&nbsp;don't touch.&nbsp; I am mesmerized.&nbsp; </P>
<P>A french lady approaches me with great trepidation through the&nbsp;knot of fur, and asks about the mountain top.&nbsp; She tells me that she has been in the town for 4 days but is afraid to climb the stairs because of the monkeys.&nbsp; She thinks they are dangerous.&nbsp; I tell her that I have recently spoken with others at my hotel who have climbed without difficulty, and plan to do it myself right&nbsp;now if she wants to join me.&nbsp; At&nbsp;which precise moment one of the larger monkeys screws up his courage and grabs her bare ankle.&nbsp; Her shriek and swiftly running figure disperse the&nbsp;troop into the&nbsp;safety of the trees, leaving the stairs ahead of me clear and&nbsp;inviting.&nbsp; I take a deep breath, a little unnerved by her fear, and begin my climb.</P>
<P>At first I see nothing, although I know they are there.&nbsp; Then, half way up the mountain, misty ocean stretched out below, the hair on my neck stands up.&nbsp; Someone is watching.&nbsp; I hold my camera tight, turn around&nbsp;360 degrees, look carefully.&nbsp; There is no one there.&nbsp; I shrug off the uneasy sensation, laugh at my paranoia, continue climbing.&nbsp;&nbsp;The trees become smaller, scrubbier, obscuring less and less of the panoramic vista.&nbsp; My awe in the magnificent view is diminished by the furtive movement at the edges of my vision.&nbsp; I am being followed.&nbsp; I turn around slowly, warily.&nbsp; To find the entire troop of&nbsp;monkeys climbing the stairs behind me.&nbsp; Not only the babies now, but&nbsp;all of them.&nbsp; Hundreds of them.&nbsp; Monkeys everywhere.&nbsp; Blocking my exit off the mountain.&nbsp; I see&nbsp;a distant male figure climbing above, and set out determinedly towards him.&nbsp;</P>
<P>The man doesn't speak much English, but he stays with me regardless.&nbsp; Once I catch up to him, the monkeys disperse back into the trees, again invisible.&nbsp; He keeps pausing to show me unusual plants or better angles from which to take my pictures.&nbsp; He seems to know the mountain well.&nbsp; He leads me up through the tall, wire fencing around the shrines and allows me to wander slowly through the slightly dillapidated compound at will.&nbsp;&nbsp;Even with its flaking whitewash and cracked tiles, balanced there at the top of the world, it is breathtaking.</P>
<P>After a time, the man leads me to a low gate at the back side of the compound.&nbsp; A tiny dirt track seems to lead from there&nbsp;around the rocky hump upon which the shrines sit.&nbsp; "Very beautiful view," he tells me, "just there."&nbsp; Being not at all anxious to retrace my steps through the monkey horde, I follow him&nbsp;right to the cliffs edge, where he has disappeared completely.</P>
<P>Leaning over the scrubby ledge and peering long down the mountainside, I&nbsp;see that there is a pipe ladder wired into the&nbsp;rock face.&nbsp; First four rungs, then an indeterminate drop to the tree tops far below.&nbsp; The mans head appears, smile wide and bright.&nbsp; "No monkeys!&nbsp; Very safe!" he tells me as he shakes&nbsp;the ladder with all his might.&nbsp; It doesn't budge.&nbsp; I look at him&nbsp;like the insane man he surely is, and turn around to go back&nbsp;the way we came.&nbsp; He shrugs good naturedly and follows.&nbsp; A few steps however, and I am back at the ledge, contemplating.&nbsp; How many more times in my life am I going to&nbsp;find myself at the edge of such an adventure first thing in the morning?&nbsp; How will I feel if I go home without having at least tried this?&nbsp; I squelch down my fear, adjust my camera strap around my back, and with the patient help of the&nbsp;man, step off the edge of the world.</P>
<P>After the first rungs (which are not quite vertical), the ladder makes a downward bend and continues straight down for about thirty feet.&nbsp; In a couple of places the rungs are bent and rusted, but it remains steady to the bottom.&nbsp; Half way, I turn from the sheer rock face to survey the land around me, but mostly all I see are trees.&nbsp; I realize the shaking in my knees  has stopped and I continue the descent.&nbsp; It is a beautiful day.</P>
<P>Once I make horizontal&nbsp;land again, the man joins me, setting purposefully off in a zigzag pattern down the still-steep mountainside.&nbsp; He stays close enough to offer a hand of support when I have difficulties, but otherwise remains distant.&nbsp; I am glad of my sturdy hiking pants as I scramble over endless&nbsp;boulders, through endless thickets of thorn bushes.&nbsp; The man doesn't appear to be expending any effort at all, but I am drenched in sweat and breathing hard.&nbsp; The lower we get, the&nbsp;more dense the trees and the stronger the scent of&nbsp;the sea become.&nbsp; Also, the more circuitous our route.&nbsp; Twice he asks me to stay where I am while he explores potential routes.&nbsp; Twice those routes dead end on low cliffs.&nbsp; I begin to think he has no idea at all how best to get us down from where we are.&nbsp; The sea is so close, I can taste it.</P>
<P>Just when I think we are going to have to sit on the most conspicuous outcrop we can find and shout for help (by now,&nbsp;trying to retrace our steps back up the mountain seems almost as foolhardy as getting the rest of the way down looks to be), the man shouts in triumph.&nbsp; "A little climbing," he says confidently. "Many holds, no problem."&nbsp; I&nbsp;look warily at the route he is now freeclimbing, and decide that following him is preferable to waiting for rescue.&nbsp; It's not all that high, afterall, probably less than fifteen feet, I tell myself, and&nbsp;he seems to be having&nbsp;no problem.&nbsp; Summoning all of my wall-climbing experience from home, I take&nbsp;another deep breath and pick my way carefully to the bottom, muscles screaming.&nbsp; I feel like&nbsp;jelly, but I have arrived.</P>
<P>After taking a few minutes to catch our breath, the man leads me to a narrow opening in the rock face just a few steps from where we have come down.&nbsp; When I stick my head through, I see that it is an enormous limestone cave.&nbsp; Using the&nbsp;flame from his cigarette lighter as a guide, he systematically explores each of the three offshoot tunnels while I look around the main&nbsp;chamber in full view of the busy roadway outside.&nbsp; He says that one is so long he does not see the end.&nbsp; I have never seen anything like it before.&nbsp; </P>
<P>When we leave the cave, I thank him for his company and wish him good day.&nbsp; I am not sure what he will do - will he ask for money or follow me?&nbsp; He just smiles and settles himself onto a stone bench for a smoke as I set off along the beach towards the fishing village we are now near.&nbsp; I never see him again.&nbsp; The monkeys however&nbsp;join me again as soon as I am out of&nbsp;his sight.</P>
<P>This time the monkeys are&nbsp;all calm and friendly.&nbsp; A passing lady offers me a bunch of tiny bananas to feed them, and the animals come right up into my lap to eat the offerings one by one.&nbsp; Soon another man is there also, handing me peanuts to give them.&nbsp; Then a family with their own bag of fruit to&nbsp;pass out comes.&nbsp; We all sit together on the beach, sharing time.&nbsp; The sun beats down hot and bright, clearing the last of the mist.&nbsp; I feel like I have had a lifetime on the mountain, but it is barely 9 o'clock.&nbsp; Restaurants along the&nbsp;water are just opening and businessmen are making their way to work.&nbsp; The day begins.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</P></DIV></DIV></DIV></DIV></DIV></DIV></div><br clear=all><hr>Tired of spam? Get  <a href="http://g.msn.com/8HMAENCA/2734??PS=">advanced junk mail protection</a> with MSN 8.</html>
