A Ferry to Nirvana
The first morning passenger on the BTS – that’s me, on a Sunday. For the first time I found myself in a completely empty skytrain car. All because I woke up at 4.45 to head for the river, to the Tha Tien district. Ah, that forgotten feeling – traveller’s excitement, the anticipation of exploring a new place. Well, not exactly new, but I had not been here in a long while, and had not wandered like this, camera in hand, through empty morning streets.
To reach Wat Pho, where my walk begins, I change to the MRT at Sala Daeng, catching on the run a glimpse of Lumpini Park waking up with its runners. On the metro I am no longer the only passenger – a couple of sleepy Indians and a few Thais are also going somewhere. I get off at Sanam Chai, ride the escalator up and find myself among white walls and golden roofs, the rising sun reflected in their chofas.
The rented telephoto lens makes the camera feel weighty in the hand. I intend to go photo-hunting for the boats strolling up and down the river. But, as usual, a charming temple cat crosses my path, and the boats are forgotten. The model poses, practices the most intricate yoga asanas, and I try to capture them. The lens clearly does not favor such experiments, and I quickly bow out.
Wat Pho Pier is still closed, no crowd yet. Wat Arun rises over the river. I never stop marveling at the harmony of its forms, especially fine in the soft morning light. Not many boats either – the river is resting. I study the Temple of Dawn through my telephoto lens and wonder how anyone could have conceived a work of so many elements.
Then I change the lens – I miss width and context; this focusing on details is not my territory. And I set off for Tha Tien Pier. Tha Tien means “the leveled landing” or “the cleared pier.” Legend has it that the yaksha guardian of Wat Arun across the river and the yaksha of Wat Pho quarreled here and got into a battle. Everything was swept off the face of the earth and razed clean. The more prosaic version: a huge fire in the reign of Rama IV burned the dense riverside quarter to the ground. But I like the yaksha story better.
Meanwhile a lot is going on at Tha Tien Pier. Turns out I am not the only one up before dawn. Local influencers have hauled in speakers, turned on the music and set about advertising sneakers against the backdrop of Wat Arun. How romantic! The pier building, meanwhile, is filling with monks returning from the morning bindabat. Their robes drink in the sunlight and glow. The little boat that shuttles between Tha Tien and Wat Arun takes them aboard, and off they go on their short every-morning voyage. A ferry to Nirvana.
I decide to join the next orange group. The ticket costs five and a half baht, cash only. Most of the monks on this run are boys, novice monks. They look me over and smile. Five minutes – and we dock. Arrived. Wat Arun has its own rulers: the cats who reign over its lawns.
