Love and Loathing: Muay Thai in Chiang Mai

This bright March morning I find myself in the somewhat pleasantly anonymous environs of The Thaepae Gate Hotel in Chiang Mai. It is modern, minimalist and an example of what the architects used to call the international style. The rather odd idea, very popular in the sixties and seventies, was that architecture should no longer relate to the cultural heritage and materials of its location but be essentially examples of a style that could be found anyway. My own instincts would be against such a notion, I rather like hotels to reflect local materials and customs, but I have to admit that on this particular occasion the place does have a peaceful and pleasant ambience ideal for tapping away happily on a netbook (they also do a very reasonable breakfast with as much coffee and orange juice as one could desire for 100 baht ($2)....)

Chiang Mai has turned out to be a city of violent contrasts, and I use the word 'violent' advisedly. There are a huge number of Wats (Buddhist Temples) in the city, somewhere between 250 and 300 depending on whose estimate you read. These Wats are almost invariably beautiful in design and offer the weary traveller refuge from the sun and a place to sit and contemplate if one should feel the need. On the other hand, Chiang Mai is also a very active centre for the practice of the sport of 'Muay Thai', simply translated as Thai Boxing. It is not boxing as a Westerner would understand it however, as the practitioner is allowed to employ his feet, knees, elbows and fists and so therefore such bouts tend to be far more intense, and much more like a street fight, than the Western version.

Many Westerners come to the city of Chiang Mai in order to train in this most demanding of martial arts. It has the reputation of being one of the most effective fighting forms after a series of bouts in the last years of the 20th century pitched practitioners of various schools of martial arts against each other. Some proved more effective than others and Muay Thai won the reputation of being one of the most effective at a practical level. Some of the Westerners, after completing their training, stay and compete. Some of the more skilful and brave even go on to become Muay Thai champions.

Martial arts, as a study, is a strange thing to be attracted to. Naturally it has its dangers, one can get seriously hurt doing these things. It also has a degree of intensity that is difficult to find in other sports. Being involved in direct competitions using these martial arts skills can produce a certain adrenalin rush. In my far distant youth I was a fairly proficient judo practitioner (judoka) and even competed in championships at a national level. I remember the nervousness experienced before one competed, but also how quickly that nervousness dissipated once you were actually on the mat. Such things as having a fairly large opponent intent on doing some fairly serious damage to you does tend to focus one's attention wonderfully!

These days I usually find myself averse to such extremes and tend to be a much gentler soul. Still, at times, I do enjoy watching boxing although I have to admit to a certain degree of moral ambivalence. I dislike the idea of the possibility of people getting hurt for my entertainment but, on the other hand, I find it hard not to enjoy the displays of courage, skill and character that are intrinsic to such sports. So it was, after thinking about it for a week, that I decided to take the plunge and watch my first Muay Thai bouts at the Thaepae Boxing Stadium near the gate of the same name in the old city.

On entering, I found the inside of the stadium to be quite unlike any Western equivalent save for the presence of a well-lit ring at its centre. The venue probably held around a thousand people or so seated on wooden benches with makeshift tables in front of them. The reason for the tables was that here, unlike in the UK, drinking was not only allowed it was positively encouraged! One could, if one so desired, also order basic meals which felt to me to be slightly incongruous in such a situation. Touts offering bets on the bouts were also actively encouraged. The odds are always “one one” or evens, as it would be expressed in Western parlance. The trick was merely to choose the fighter you felt most likely to win without the need to haggle any further. Getting one's bets on may prove difficult though. Those you would wish to take the bet have a good eye for the action and so, apart from pre-fight bets, it can be hard to get a bet matched once the fight is in progress.

The audience themselves were an eclectic admixture of all sorts of nationalities representing the cosmopolitan make up of the city of Chiang Mai itself. There were also a fair amount of Thais who seem to love their own form of martial art deeply. Perhaps slightly more surprisingly, the audience was made up of at least 33% of females, probably more, almost all of whom were Westerners. It reminded me of something I had read about the ancient gladiatorial games in the days of the Roman Empire. Apparently, even back then, women were some of the most enthusiastic spectators for such 'sports'.

The evening began with a demonstration bout with two practitioners dressed in traditional attire showing some of the more spectacular moves from the sport. Although merely a demo, they seemed to exhibit a degree of enthusiasm and commitment that threatened, at times, to spill over into a genuine fight such was the intensity.

The first fight proper was between two very lightweight practitioners, the match being made at 100lbs. My original thought as I watched these two tiny mites was that at least they won't do too much damage to each other. How wrong I was! The fight started cagily, the two combatants circling carefully around each other bouncing on the front foot seeking openings in the opponent's defence. Then, suddenly, one of the fighters lunged forward with a high kick to the head. The second fighter caught hold of the out-flung leg and pulled the kicker onto his blow. He struck with great power and the sound of glove thudding against head drew an empathic groan from the audience. After a flurry of such blows and several knees to the ribs, the fighters were separated by the referee. The rest of the round took a similar course, cagey circling followed by sporadic bursts of speed and power.

To watch such a display is a strangely compulsive experience. At one level, one feels a little horrified and fears for the well-being of the contestants. At another, there is a compelling quality which one may not particularly approve of but which is undeniably powerful at the same time. I have to admit that I found myself drawn into the intensity of the experience.

The second round started at a much higher tempo. The fighter in the blue corner seemed to forever be smiling at his opponent. Not just a sly grin either, but a huge toothy and apparently friendly smile that made it difficult not to like him. There was no artifice in his expression. His opponent would acknowledge the smiles with little nods of his own. One of the aspects that one could not help but note as the evening drew on was the implicit and explicit respect between these guys, so different from the 'bad-mouthing' that often mars boxing competitions.

Suddenly, in the centre of the ring, there was a lightning fast exchange of blows completed with an awful thud as the smiler's elbow crashed into nodder's head. The audience gasped. It had happened so quickly that one could scarcely see it. Nodder swayed, attempted to straighten, swayed again and went down on all fours. The referee began counting but after three seconds nodder turned over onto his back and it became obvious that the fight was over. Smiler immediately came over and knelt beside his opponent, clearly concerned at the damage he had done, an oddly sweet gesture given the circumstances.

There were a grand total of seven bouts on the program for the evening. Each and every one of them ended with a stoppage. This ring was no place for faint hearts. Whether one approves or not, one has to admit that the courage shown by these combatants, knowing the cost of losing, was impressive indeed.

The final bout was between an impressively muscled French fighter by the name of Oumar and a Thai opponent. Oumar appeared to be beautifully prepared with scarcely an ounce of fat on his 150lb body. After just a few seconds of the bout it became clear that his speed would prove difficult for the Thai. The Frenchman was some four inches taller which allowed him to dominate from the early seconds. The Thai fought gamely but succumbed to a crunching kick to the shins (a common and effective tactic in Muay Thai) early in the second round.

As I wondered back through the still crowded, late-night streets of Chiang Mai to my hotel I reflected on the evening's experience. In some ways my response was ambiguous, paying to watch people fight each other is not something I have done often in my life but, on the other hand, I could not deny the intensity and immediacy of the experience. I had, it must be admitted, enjoyed it. Muay Thai does not need my approval or disapproval, it will go on whether I agree with it or not. Westerners of a more adventurous disposition will still be drawn to learning these skills and the more successful ones will want to prove their prowess in the ring. I will pass no judgement but will express my admiration for the skill and bravery of these people. Such qualities, I think, have to be admired.

Back in the Thaepae Gate Hotel yesterday evening's excitement seems a world away. All is quiet now save for the trickling of the ubiquitous fountain on the balcony outside and the occasional tip-tapping of the waitresses shoes echoing in the minimalist interior as she clears the detritus left by yet another customer. Thailand seems wonderful and awful in turn. Cruel and kind, loving and callous, deep and facile; it has a way of making one examine even one's mostly deeply held beliefs. There is an intensity to life here, a vibrancy, a colour that stands in sharp contrast to the place I originate from. Love it or hate it, it is difficult to be indifferent to this land and this culture.