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.

Risky Business...

Today the joys of nomadic flaneurie have brought me to a quiet and pleasant little guest house in the Northern Thai city of Chang Mai. Sarah's Guest House lies just a couple of hundred metres from the the moat and city wall of the old town. The place has a pleasant, although slightly run-down ambience of the sort that one often comes across in Thai cities. In such a hot country, the architectural emphasis is often on maximising air-flow and coolness and so it is that I find myself sitting beneath the stilted verandah listening to the sounds of water trickling from a small fountain whilst enjoying the first bowl of porridge that I have had the pleasure of consuming for many a month.

Chiang Mai is Thailand's second city and lies in the extreme North of the country. At the time of writing there are still some uncertainties as to how the current political turmoil here will pan out and the future looks somewhat uncertain for this beautiful land. One of the possibilities that has been mooted is the division of the country between the North and the South. If this did indeed come to pass then the city of Chiang Mai could, one day, find itself the capital of Siam. Oddly, the name Siam was originally used to denote people with dark brown skin (from Sanskrit) and was meant in a slightly derogatory sense. The people of the north are indeed slightly darker than those further south. Present day Thailand is a curious mixture of various ethnic groups held together by the oft asserted notion of 'Thainess'. Much work is done in schools to reinforce the idea of this identity but there still exists tensions between the different groups that all too often flare up in political strife and sometimes even violence.

Thailand does, at times, feel like a dangerous place to be, despite its undeniable beauty. Not only do the politics appear to be potentially problematic but day to day life in Thailand can be risky in itself. I read only last week of the very common practice here of injecting formalin (a form of formaldehyde) into fruits and vegetables to maintain their freshness longer. It does indeed have that effect, but unfortunately also leads to health problems of various sorts, some relatively minor such as skin irritation or sneezing, but long term ingestion can lead to consequences the details of which are far too gruesome to go into here.

There is a fairly loose and patchy application of the law in this land, an attitude that permeates life from the highest social strata to the lowest. An obvious example would be the law requiring the wearing of crash helmets. This was passed in 1979 in view of the high number of fatalities in motor cycle accidents suffered by the people of Thailand. Standing on any street in a major city in this country one will mostly notice crash helmets by their absence. In a very short time hoards of motor cyclists will pass by but only about one in four will actually be complying. You may even notice a nearby police checkpoint but very little actual in the way of a response from the policemen inside. I originally heard that the law only applied to foreign nationals. An understandable misunderstanding as they seem to be the only ones who are stopped; there normally follows a stealthy financial transaction quite costly for the poor tourist involved but more profitable for the representative of the local constabulary.

One would think that travelling by bus would be a safer option in Thailand, and one would be right but... it is merely a relative safety; buses in Thailand cannot be considered safe per se. The drivers, particularly of the mini-buses, have to work long hours to make a living. Rumour has it that they often imbibe yaba, a substance that enables them to keep going for extended periods but also produces a certain psychological intensity that leads to feelings of being 'bullet-proof', perhaps not the ideal state to be driving buses in...

My own personal experiences of travelling by this mode of transport in Thailand has lead me to revise much what I thought I knew about the laws of physics. Certainly it would seem that buses can get around sharp bends at far higher speeds than I had previously considered possible. Also, my perception of space would seem to be somewhat awry as often these self-same buses manage to squeeze through gaps that appeared to be almost narrower than the bus itself (at speed, naturally). Such driving does indeed take minutes off the journey but one feels it may be a pyrrhic victory as it feels as if it may also take years off of one's life in terms of the stress entailed.

Before I was privy to much of this knowledge I rather naively hired a motor bike from one of the numerous shops supplying this service in Kanchanaburi. The day itself proved to be an excellent adventure whilst I rode around the hills and mountains of West Central Thailand near the border with Myanmar. Unfortunately, the return to the city lead to a change in my relationship to surface of the planet from the vertical to the horizontal when a white van (some things never change) pulled out from the side across two lanes and into yours truly.

Nursing eleven abrasions, three large bruises, two egg-shaped contusions and a bump on my head (luckily I had insisted on having a crash helmet) later that evening, I could not help but notice similar casualties amongst my fellow travellers in Kanchanaburi. One chap was so swathed in bandages that he looked almost mummified. Understandably, he was moving with the slowness one associates with the role; one could almost feel his pain just by looking at him.

Many years ago a very famous Greek mathematician who went by the name of Pythagoras, although at the time he was known as much for his philosophy as for his mathematics, pointed out the shortcomings in our approach to risk when he said: “Self chosen are the woes that befall man.”

We are indeed all too often the architects of our own downfall. A more modern quote, oft cited by my brother in regards to his flying activities, seems apt: “There are old pilots and there are bold pilots, but there are not many old, bold pilots!”

The avoidance of risk is often decried in our modern world but, as one matures, one begins to understand that brash risk taking is better left to the brash. Again, Pythagoras had something to say on the subject, advising that it would be better to avoid such misadventures and instead to “live quietly in the constant light of truth.” Deeply unfashionable maybe, but then again so many of the best things in life are.

Truth itself, of course, is often hard to come by. When faced with the truly alarming road traffic fatality rate in Thailand the politicians decided to do something about it. The measure taken did indeed lead to a halving of the fatality rate in just one year. I hear you ask 'what could they have possibly done to lead to so successful an outcome?' The measure they employed to reduce the appalling figures entailed changing the way they collected the statistics. Now in Thailand if you leave the scene with a semblance of a pulse you are not considered a fatality. No matter if you die thirty seconds later in the ambulance you are no longer deemed to be a road traffic fatality but are lumped into some other, less controversial, statistical category instead. This solution, if one may call it that, did indeed work but one cannot help but feel that it rather misses the point...

 Back at Sarah's Guest House I seem to have been befriended a couple of wandering felines. Such debates about the nature of risk taking are of no interest to them it seems, but a soft scratch behind the ears or a full length stroke to the tip of the tail is far more to their liking. Soft Thai music is playing in the background and this place remains agreeably cool and pleasant despite its proximity to the centre of Chiang Mai. 

Shortly, I will have to head out into the frenetic chaos and mechanised madness that typifies the roads around the old city. Beyond that though, there are areas of surprising calm inside the walls themselves. Within these precincts a local Wat (Buddhist Temple) offers massages for the princely sum of 140 baht ($3) for an hour. So far on this trip I have forsaken the temptations of such therapeutic interventions due to some of the more compromising aspects that are involved in some of the commercial establishments. This injured body though would appreciate some tender loving care at this point, so I think that a visit to the temple would indeed be in order. So, without further ado, I think I will take my leave for another week with a final, apposite thought... take care out there!

A short and rather sad addendum to this post. Following my massage I was strolling around the old town when I came across today's Bangkok Post. It told of yet another bus accident, this time leading to the loss of 15 passengers, mostly children, with 45 more injured. The driver of the bus was unlicensed and fled the scene. The unpleasant details can be seen here: 

http://www.bangkokpost.com/news/local/397583/school-bus-tragedy-kills-15-injures-45