One of our favorite places in Thailand is Kanchanaburi. It’s like a little piece of northern Thailand, but only three hours outside of Bangkok by train or bus (unless you accidentally take the four and half hour local bus, which we have done). It was also a convenient weekend trip last semester when we were living in Ratchaburi, since we could hop on a yellow bus and be there in two hours. We know of a cheap riverfront guesthouse with good rooms, delicious 45 baht hamburgers (a real blessing when you’ve only had Thai food for months), and equally affordable beer. And, Kanchanaburi has plenty to entertain our inner tourist.
From the Bridge over the Rive Kwai and its accompanying Memorial Cemetery and Jeath Museum (one of the world’s most absurd assortments of antiques, poorly worded signage, and bizarrely positioned mannequins) to waterfalls and elephants, Kanchanaburi is a one-stop tourist destination. But, simply a notch above the rest, it also has the Tiger Temple.
The Tiger Temple remains, among all the things we have done and seen, a completely unique experience. It’s no wonder that with friends visiting we figured it was a good touristy experience for them as well. I mean, how often do you get to pet one tiger, let alone a dozen of them?
A chartered sangthaew (pickup truck with benches and a covered back) carried us seven New Mexicans to the Tiger Temple outside of the main town. For the admission fee (“donation”) of 600 baht, approximately 20 dollars, we get about two hours of tiger fun and a bunch of “free” photographs. By Thai standards, this is a pretty absurdly high price – the equivalent of about 20 meals, between 12 and 15 beers from 7-eleven, or a 12 hour first class bus ride – but they are using it to feed about forty tigers, and I can’t imagine they are light eaters.
The Tiger Temple is a Buddhist monastery-turned animal refuge. Originally graced with injured tigers only, the temple now breeds the greater portion of its striped inhabitants. This has made them the target of some controversy, as they are accused of swapping tigers with other temples in Laos and Burma in order to prevent inbreeding. I have to say that there are worse things you could be doing, and that seems like the right reason to break international law if you’re gonna do it.
According to their staff, around 95-percent of the tigers have been born at the Tiger Temple, and have been constantly in contact with humans. There are programs where, for the right price, you can bottle-feed tiny cubs, play with four-month old tigers using a gigantic version of a cat toy (think fishing pole), and participate in various feedings and walks throughout the day.
When you enter, the tigers are lazing about in the shade, about a dozen females around eight-months old (and still plenty big) and six or seven full-sized males. Tigers, like many small housecats, spend a vast majority of their day in various states of repose, jumbo cat naps if you will, especially during the day while it’s hot. So, contrary to much of the controversy about the temple and the comments about our photos, the tigers aren’t drugged; they are sleepy.
Even though they are napping, the tigers do wear a chain around their neck, to prevent any unintentional bolting. In the process of becoming a full-blown animal sanctuary, deer, horses, pigs, buffalo, and an assorted menagerie roaming about, a tempting snack to even a sleepy tiger.
The staff members lead you around by the hand, always having you remove any purses or bags first, and walking you around the backs of all the tigers as the front is the dangerous end. You sit there and pet the tiger while another staff member takes pictures with your camera. Then you stand up and go pet another one of the big cats.
To see the monks interact with the tigers, you would think they were, in fact, common housecats. The monks will sit on the backs of the full-grown males massaging and pounding on their backs. The monks and staff alike reposition them as needed, pull on their tails and ears, ruffle their fur, entice them with sticks and strings to chase, thump them on the nose, and occasionally stuff their entire hand in their mouths. It’s like they are playing with kittens. Very big kittens.
This time, we got some bonus tiger time. While walking around to where some of the younger cubs are kept, we happened upon a monk towel-drying a tiger cub, treating it exactly as if it were a small child who had just gotten out of a hot bath. The monk told us to pet the tiger while he leaned back to smoke. The tiger cub, let’s call him Stripy, was wearing a dog leash attached to nothing and just sat there chilling with the monk. The monk pushed on Stripy’s back until he lay down, and then gestured to us once again. Pet. Take Pictures.
Now, one of their big rules at the Tiger Temple is that you never, ever pet them above the middle of their back. What if they decide to turn around and bite you? This monk, cigarette in hand, tattoos (okay, holy tattoos) on display, couldn’t have cared less about the rules. And he just kept pushing it farther. Pet him. Sit down with him. Lay down. One by one, which each of us, he just kept having us go one step farther.
My turn came. Kiss him, the monk says. I just stared blankly. The monk pointed at a spot on top of his head. Kiss. And when one kiss wasn’t enough, or wasn’t romantic enough I suppose, he said, Kiss again… slow. Oh, yes sir, I kissed Stripy. Right on top of his fuzzy little head.
I always knew that tigers were beautiful, but something about seeing them up close, and maybe doing it twice, made me realized just how incredibly gorgeous the animals are. Their soft underbelly with its lighter fur, how muscular and solid their long, sleek tails are (although, they feel like a baseball bat when they hit you, trust me), their deep orange eyes almost matching their stripes, the large, white spots affixed to the back of all their ears, it borders on surreal.
Certainly an experience worth twenty dollars. Even the second time.
