There's no denying that Wat Pho is an attractive temple complex, but since it is situated just beside Wat Pra Kaew - the grand palace with the revered Emerald Buddha - it is really just more of the same.
What Wat Pho has which the other temple complexes don't however is a chance to work off the stresses and strains in the massage parlour, and then wash away the anxiety by having your future foretold from the lines in your palm. Exhausted tourists wait in line to have their backs and shoulders massaged. They sigh with relief when small steaming sacs of herbal remedies are pressed against the knotted muscles in their backs, then flinch in agony when the masseurs stab them in the shoulder with a well hardened knuckle. It seems calculated to catch the unsuspecting victim by surprise. There's no chance of dozing off on the massage table in Wat Pho.
I watched (and listened) to this spectacle for a while before deciding that I could probably handle any aches I had at the moment. My mind however, could always do with a workover. There were a couple of wise looking Thais with intense looks of concentration on their faces, reading the palms of anxious travelers and reassuring them that life would work out just as they expected. Those of you who know me know me as a skeptic. But I have one question I ask my self when I am out here and I see something that looks interesting to try. I have asked it of myself at the foodstalls, in the silk markets. I asked it of myself when I was approaching Mahachulalongkorn University on my monk-hunt. It's a simple one and usually spurs me on to try something new. I ask myself 'what would Michael Palin do?'
Unquestionably, the travelling Python would go for it. I have a long journey ahead of me. Even if the palm reader cannot tell me what will happen, some reassuring words spoken in the sun in comfortable Bangkok might come in very useful in the rain or the snows of Western China. An armoury of reassuring words is great to have when times get tough.
I fully suspect that what my little friend told me he did not glean from the creases in my hand. Let's face it, he ain't stupid and he was looking at more than that. Well, knock me down, but he told me I was indecisive! Could this be to do with the split at the end of my brain-line? Or was he just watching me deliberating before I got to him. My sensitivity and lack of true business acumen might be something to do with the shape of my head, or maybe he could guess from how badly I negotiated a price after I sat down in front of him. The rest though, was speculation. It's nice to know that I won't die in an accident. Now that one will be useful next time I'm squashed into a fast moving biscuit-tin-on-wheels. A long life of good health, hampered of course by indecision. Not a good idea to open a business (I'll fail to negotiate a good price on anything, he knew that well). I'll travel, probably a lot more, but I'll always return home at some point. I will marry late and if I'm careful (!) I will only have three children. And no, he ruled out Mongolian shepherdesses, but he could not get more specific than that my future bride might be older than me, or possibly younger; shorter, though that was not too important and she might even be the same height. Most likely though she will have the same colour skin. Maybe an albino Mongolian shepherdess then?
My employment prospects look good and I should really consider studying more. I let him stew in this one for a while without commenting. He reassured me that I might be able to get a PhD if I applied myself. I 'hmmmed' at this: 'really?'. 'Oh yes' says he, you could surely get one, you have a long brain line and a round face. I told him I already had one and he almost popped with joy! He was thrilled! He nearly danced! He called over all his friends and introduced me as his friend 'the Doctor'. I couldn't help thinking that this was his first spot-on prediction in a long time, probably ever. Now if I had the business acumen I could have asked for a price-cut. I missed the opportunity.
Reassured by long life and happiness, though still indecisive, I left my grinning fortune-teller. What made me think he had got more out of it than I had? Whatever career doubts he had were quashed for a while by his success. He would keep a lookout for round-faced Irishmen in future. They're a walkover when it comes to bargaining. Just get them sitting down and they're too polite to leave if the price is not right. Unperturbed, I thought of Michael Palin. I donned my broadbrimmed hat, winked at the nearest tourist camcorder and announced to all who were listening that I was off to look for my albino Mongolian shepherdess!