Up Close and Personal: From Massage to Tigers!

So last time I wrote was just about to go for my massage course in Chiang Mai and it's taken me all this time to recover in order to be able to write again! Give me a three pair men's tennis match over Jangira massage any day, I swear it could make grown men cry. Was somewhat dubious about what I had booked myself into when I arrived at the centre and was shown to a dark room with a solitary mat in the middle and Jane (she later told me that was the name she gave herself to make it easier for students to pronounce) closed the door behind us and began stripping off with her colleague, Nin! I was slightly reassured when they both started bowing prostrate on the floor towards a small buddha shrine I hadn't yet noticed in the corner and something which I imagined wasn't entirely compatible with the more downtown "massage" parlours. Jangira, the particular form of massage I was learning, is a holisitic combination of massage techniques, meditation and breathing - in short it is mainly practised by Buddhists as a way of communing between masseur and massagee that identifies with the central principles of enlightenment. It was at this moment that I realised I should have perhaps read more seriously the introductory book on Karma I had been given when I booked my course in order to understand what I had let myself in for rather than flicking through it during the changeovers of the French Open first round. I proceeded to spend the next seven hours being contorted and contorting Jane and Nin. One of them would lie on the mat while the other demonstrated, then it would be my turn to lie on the mat and have it done to me (so that I was able to gauge strength of pressure and where the energy lines were) and then finally I would try it out on one of the women. We worked our way right through the body from feet to head. It was difficult not to be self-conscious, especially when some of the positions required of you to perform certain parts of the massage involve all sorts of combinations of bodily contortions I would never have thought possible with various limbs pressed up and wrapped around other limbs leading to the frequent comments by Jane that "I should relax" - something easier said than done when she is pinned between my straddled legs while I "palm circled" her chest! Bizarrely I found that I really enjoyed giving the foot massages - a lot of what was said really made sense with my innumerable experiences of foot injuries through tennis and I could feel how the stimulation of the blood and tendons was actively working on those parts of my feet that have been through the wars and I apparently had a natural aptitude for finding those parts on the foot - one of my more peculiar talents it has to be said! Conversely, I hated giving the head massages and was hopeless at finding the pressure points; about the only part I was any good at was the finger dotting whereby you randomly poke the person's face all over!! (And yes, it is actually quite relaxing!) It was surprisingly extremely hard work. Not only did some of the positions involve me hauling the person about and performing physically exerting positions but having inherited Dad's sublime suppleness I struggled even to sit myself on the mat with my legs folded under my bottom (the traditional position to best apply pressure - through the straight of your back rather than your arms should you be wondering!) without deadening my leg much to the amusement of my yoga-fiend instructors who kept urging me to bend them as far as I could despite my fears that I was about to snap them in half. It was also a bit like being at school as I had my workbook with all the diagrams that I had to annotate with extra notes as I went along and was continually spot-checked throughout the day, being tested on leg massages while simultaneously performing an abdominal massage! The girls did look after me though, making me lunch and letting me play with their house-rabbit who hopped about the sessions the whole time, while slipping in and out of playful teases and serious Buddhist philosophies so that I was frequently confused as to whether they were joking with me or telling me something I should be listening to with my most earnest face.... I was, suffice to say, thoroughly exhausted by the end of the day but it was worth every drop of sweat. They told me I had very good hands and a great instinct - perfect qualities for the job - and I did feel that with every instruction I was beginning to become attuned to how different bodies, and indeed body parts, respond to different actions - must have inherited some of those physiotherapy genes! It's all about the practise-makes-perfect application now, though I don't imagine Hiren will be willing to let me hurl him about a Thai beach while I pour over my little annotated book wondering if I'm applying the right pressure on the right line! Still, it gave me something to practise on myself as I took the nightbus from Chiang Mai back to Bangkok and ease my own weary muscles. I arrived back in Bangkok the following morning and met up with Liz who was bronzed and full of outrageous tales from her couple of weeks in the southern part of the country full-mooning it and hanging out on the shore where they filmed The Beach...Hiren had left unexpectedly for Hanoi and so Liz and I decided to see the sights of Bangkok for a couple of days before heading to Vietnam. Knowing what to expect from the city this time I wasn't so taken aback by the brashness of its touristy side and we actually managed to sidestep this scene and explore the more cultural parts. First off this required an afternoon in Chinatown (culinary forays are perhaps the most important aspect of being a culture vulture and definitely the most rewarding!) where we pottered about the various food stalls and street markets watching hapless little fish being barbecued into the most extraordinary dishes and needless to say gorging ourselves in the essential task of trying to sample from every conceivable vendor! The following day we decided to walk off our Chinese expedition and take in the Temple of the Emerald Buddha and the Royal Palace, abandoning the ubiquitous tuk-tuks for our trusty map and inbuilt compasses accompanied by the immortal line "we just need to follow the river"...Having tried to find the palace the previous day and been directed around the whole building, so large that by the time we reached the gates it had closed for the day, we weren't about to make the same mistake and got up bright and early to try and avoid the midday sun. Having been somewhat sated of temples it's a testament to the Emerald Buddha and Royal Palace that I was mightily impressed by these particular buildings which share the same grounds. They have the decadence and ornateness of medieval Europe combined with the meditative relaxation that seems to emanate from eastern architecture. The murals that told the story of the birth of the royal family (we think) were incredible in their pictorial mythologisation and the sheer grandeur of the golden bejewelled pagodas were as breathtaking as the prayerful scene inside the temple where you can simultaneously listen to the monks chant and watch the Buddhist tourists come in to offer their blessings was moving (unless that is you point your feet towards the Buddha - my inherited lack of suppleness stalling me for the second time in three days - whereby you are hauled up by the security guards for your blasphemy... - feet are the dirtiest part of the body and an offence therefore to direct at the Buddha icons) The Royal Palace was unfortunately closed as there was a state ceremony being performed; given that the King (to whom there are effigies everywhere in Bangkok: next to road signals, in the cinemas, on billboards) spends only a couple of weeks a year there we were extremely unlucky, but were consoled by being allowed to walk around the gardens and try to peek inside when the armed soldiers weren't looking:) On leaving the Palace and trying to negotiate a boat ride down the river we accidentally stumbled across the craziest flea market selling everything from (presumably) stolen trinkets to old postcards and dentures - I kid you not, there were at least two stalls devoted to secondhand dentures...It was a market for Thai people and we caused much amusement to the locals who didn't speak a word of English as we tried to outbarter each other for the most ridiculous item. Liz won with a collection of semi-nude postcards (apparently she bought them for artistic reasons though the grins of the market sellers seemed to beg to differ!) On our final day we booked into a day tour to get round all the sights we wanted to see that lie beyond the city edges in one fell swoop. A rude 7am start saw us herded into a minibus and driven to the Floating Market - a remarkable spectacle that seems to cross the food of Borough Market with the waterways of Venice in which you have to hire a punt and be navigated down the water alleys. Should you emerge with all your fingers intact you would have done well given the bumper-cars style of progression adopted by the punters (all for some reason middle aged women with Vietnamese hats) and the long hooked poles used by the vendors to literally haul you alongside their boat.

After the floating market we headed to the Death Railway, the track built by the WW2 POWs. The Japanese wanted a railway that would link Thailand to Burma and provide them with potential access to India and used their POWs to construct it. Not only was the process of building the track and bridge dangerous but the POWs suffered the additional threat of being bombed by the Allies who were trying to destroy the track. There were some heartbreaking stories of incidents where the Japanese knowing the Allies were approaching sent the POWs out onto the track and bridge in an attempt to stop the Allies dropping their bombs but under strict instructions to bomb regardless of the cirucumstances many POWs were killed by their own countrymen. These stories, told in their strange didatic Thai-English with overt moralistic conculusions, were far more moving than the museum itself which is a haphazard collection of artefacts from the war with little narrative and randomly lumped together in a building that doubled up as a worksman's yard! The bridge across the river was far more impressive: a wraught black iron construction that sticks out against the greenery of the countryside. Empty and barren it seems almost haunting in its legacy much like the hollowed out death camps at Auschwitz.

After that sobering experience and a quick lunch it was on towards the Tiger Temple. Liz's friends had recommended we visit the sanctuary whereby you can frolic with the tiggers and we were sold by their photos of hugging adorable cubs. The Temple is a monastic place of meditation but several years ago local villagers brought an injured boar to the monks who having no knowledge of animal care nursed it back to health and released it into the wild only for it to return to their temple with ten of its family the following day! Seen as a sign the villagers have continued to bring a variety of injured wild animals to the Temple's grounds so that boar mix with buffalo and peacocks with goats. Most recently some poorly tiger cubs were brought to the Temple and since these could not be released back into the jungle they remained with the monks who have seen their collection added to so that it totals nearly fifteen tigers and has become a major tourist attraction.

I confess I have a Life of Pi attitude towards tigers, verging between total fear and an almost hypnotic awe and respect and so found myself drawn to the Temple with a mix of trepidation and excitement. Although the tigers are chained in the grounds they have enough leeway to turn around and bite your head off should they choose so being escorted into their complex I was filled with visions of being mauled to death by the animals while the monks sat by insisting they were just playing with me. You are taken around the complex by a guide who positions you next to each tiger so that you can stroke and play with them while having your picture taken. While we were queuing up the guide told us that the tigers are pretty lethargic in the heat but tend to wake up and become more aggressive in the rain when it is cooler. As we got to about ten people from the front of the queue it began to rain....

No matter how many times we were assured that it was perfectly safe the first time you crouch down next to a half-ton beast and see the paws the size of your head and the rows of teeth as it yawns lazily there is no amount of reasoning to convince you and so it's down to a quick prayer to emerge unscathed with the promise you will never do something so reckless again!

There is something completely majestic and mesmerising about tigers and to be able to sit and lie with them is such a surreal experience. The older ones command such poise and grace combining immense strength with a dangerous charm while the younger playful cubs that grab your arms between their paws as they lie on their backs or snap at your ankles once your back are turned are completely adorable.

Having started out with so much apprehension I was dismayed to leave the complex, it felt like it had all passed in the blink of an eye when I could have easily passed the whole day with these incredible beasts. Fortunately this wasn't the end of the experience as because we were amongst the last visitors of the day we were given the privilege of "walking" one of the tigers back to their cage. Given that it took four burly guides to unchain the said tiger and marshall it into position with the instruction that the tiger will do what it wants regardless of your behaviour when they hand you the lead to patrol her up the hill towards its cage it's hard to imagine that the fragile chain of metal that separates you and the tiger will allow you to do much leading! It's even more alarming when the guides back away from you so that you can have your picture taken walking the animal and you're left trying to smile for a once-in-a-lifetime picture without revealing your innate terror.

Somehow Liz and I managed to arrive about 45 minutes late for our bus having dawdled far too long with our new striped friends and so were not the most popular people on the way back to Bangkok but given the experience of being allowed such intimate proximity with these animals it was well worth the glares and cold shoulderings!

FAVOURITE PLACE: Green House hostel - although we had to change rooms because our shower flooded and then the ac didn't work it had a great airy restaurant and a superb travel agency who sorted everything out for us.

FAVOURITE FOOD: The street markets are incredible. You can eat homemade, authentic Thai food for 50p, with huge portions cooked fresh before your eyes. We gorged ourselves on these every night usually followed by a banana roti for dessert:)

WHAT I'M GOING TO MISS: Street stalls and tiger cuddling!

WORST PLACE: The overnight bus from Chiang Mai to Bangkok where I made the fatal error of taking the back seat thinking I could lie across the seats only to have those seats taken by a Japanese couple midway through the night forcing me to sit up for the duration of the rest of the journey and rue not having taken one of the normal recliners where everyone else was happily snoozing....

WORST FOOD: Liz's bizarre addiction to dried peas....The revolting Guava juice in Chinatown

WHAT I'M NOT GOING TO MISS: Palace sentries that send you in the wrong direction to their own entrance gates, boozy Brits abroad on the Khao San Road...

MOST BIZARRE: Cuddling a tiger?!?! Second-hand denture markets!

FAVOURITE QUOTES: "I'm just going to have to sit it out" (Liz), "it" being her hunger! "Read not only books but man also" (Buddhist proverb in one of the Chiang Mai temples)