A haphazard chronicle of my inevitable misadventures during a year in Vietnam and points east.

p.s. I'll be pitifully grateful if you send me email during my exile: TravelerKaty@hotmail.com

October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 February 2006 March 2006 May 2006

 
Chang Mai, Thailand

Before Amanda and Geoff arrived I gave some thought to how to keep them entertained in Chang Mai, and I couldn't help but notice all the signs around the city advertising the weekly Muay Thai, or Thai boxing matches. In orther words, Friday Night Fights, Thai style. It seemed like it would be right up Geoff's alley, as an afficionado of Asian movies and a male besxides. As for myself, I figured I could sit through anything for two hours, and could leave if things got too bloody. As it happened though, it was interesting and impressive for all of us.

Muay Thai is not like American boxing, which is probably a good thing since I don't care for that sport at all. It is similar in some ways -- they fight in a roped ring, they wear shiny shorts and boxing gloves, and compete in a series of three minute rounds, but in Thai boxing they don't merely pound the bejesus out of eachother with their fists, they also use feet, knees, elbows, and aren't above tripping their opponent to get him to the mat. And whereas in Vegas it would be common to see 250 pound behemoth slugging it out for millions, these guys are barefoot teenagers, skinny, unbelievably fast and flexible, and they often do it to earn money for their families. According to an American law student we met who came to Thailand to train in the sport (and lasted just two weeks), most fighters burn out before age 20.

We arrived early (as usual, I am incapable of arriving anywhere late), unaware that the real action doesn't occur until later. We were in a legitimate "stadium" rather than one of the more sketchy boxing venues available, but the setup was pretty basic: large room with concrete floors and very high ceilings, brightly lit ring in the middle, and bleachers around the perimeter that for some reason were separated from ringside viewing by 20 foot chain link fences. In the bleacher seats there were maybe 25 Thai civilians, mostly kids, and a platoon of maybe 100 military guys from the outpost next door, who marched in in matching army green t-shirts, shorts and knee socks. They enlivened things by doing chants and splitting into two rooting sections for each fight -- losing section did pushups on the bleachers.

Down in the expensive seats on the floor, each side of the ring had a slightly different setup. On the side where the foreigners massed, we had nice plastic deck chairs with arms, maybe 10 rows of them going all the way back to the fence. To our left was a section shared by foreigners, upscale Thai fans and the constantly shifting entourages of the fighters in the Red Corner. To our right was all Thais, including the Blue Corner trainers and entourages. This group was far more lively than their compatriots across the ring, possibly because they had three long uncomfortable wooden benches in lieu of nice folding chairs. Directly across from us there were no chairs, as the frantic minute-by-minute betting process and money exchange among the 40 or so Thais over there would just be hampered by the presence of seating.

There is a great deal of ritual involved with Muay Thai, and despite its violence, much of it is Buddhist in nature. The fighters enter the ring wearing their shorts, a highly decorated robe showing what boxing school or club they're from, and a modified headband that looks like a stringless squash racquet with tassels on the handle. From their respective corners, the fighters remove the robe and slowly walk around the ring, right had always touching the top rope, and slightly bowing as they touch their forehead to each corner mat. After the perimeter walk, they wander aimlessly around the middle for a while, studiously ignoring the other guy, then each does a salaam-style full bow and starts some weird stretches and Native American ritual dance moves. When both are done, a trainer for each comes up and annoits the fighter with water, prays with him briefly, and removes the squash racquet hat. This whole routine takes about five minutes -- in one case about twice as long as the fight itself.

Our first two fights were Thai rookie league -- 57 pound fighers who looked about 9 or 10 years old. Muay Thai is a hard core sport, however, and they weren't pulling any punches. They were dancing around the ring, almost in perfect step with the snake charmer music coming from the 4-man band, and were incredibly quick with the kicks. Geoff was certain that any one of them could kick his ass.

Naturally, the older fighters were even scarier, as they were bigger, stronger, and could hit harder, so much so that you could hear the sickening thud when a particularly good move was made. The three of us were sitting in the front row (ringside seats!) but we had carefully checked for any signs of dried blood spatter before we sat down. There wasn't a whole lot of blood involved, actually, but I'm willing to bet all of those guys were seriously hurting after those matches.

Although the kids only fought three rounds each, the older fighters (still no older than early 20's) went five unless there was a knockout, something Amanda and I were rooting for, as it would move us more swiftly through the long list of fights. Between rounds trainers did the usual dousing with ice water and quick massage of limbs, but often started with the odd practice of bodily picking the fighter up so he could shake his legs out. Very strange looking once the fighters were bigger.

Although it was all very interesting, after five or six fights I was ready to go, but we wanted to wait for the big exhibition event, in which Paolo, a 132 pound Italian idiot, was to have gotten the snot kicked out of him by a Thai boxer. Unfortunately Paolo appeared to have backed out at the last minute, so we headed home, though I think Geoff could easily have stayed to the end. Amanda, on the other had, was falling asleep despite the incredible noise. Even Thai boxers can't fight jet lag.

Copyright 2003 Katy Warren

posted by Katy at 4:08 AM