A haunting jaunt among the ruins of a Thai school

This week's column is a continuation of last week's column (you can find all of my previous columns at www.watertowndailytimes.com/section/grownlocalgoneglobal), in which I began sharing a story of a photo shoot that took place in the canals and along the banks of the Chao Phraya River in Bangkok. With the help of some cash and a password, the photographers and I had just made our way past the guard and into the allegedly haunted ruins of an all-boys school ...

The photographers began setting up their equipment, and we took a collective deep breath.

Whispers turned to conversations, and smiles spread across our faces — we were standing in allegedly inaccessible ruins on the banks of the Chao Phraya, surrounded by gorgeously weathered walls and windows, unexplored stairs and hallways.

We had been granted the opportunity of a lifetime. What were we waiting for?!

I tiptoed to the center of the courtyard, the dark walls of the ruins looming behind me. And a wave of fear washed over me.

What if something or someone appeared in the windows, behind my back?

I have never been much of a superstitious person, but Thailand is a land of many superstitions and many more haunted tales. And that day, in those ancient ruins, I was hoping to not become part of one ...

But then, in the same way that it happened in the boat, the shoot seemed to sort of just unfold in an effortless way. And again, I felt like a part of something bigger — the photographers, the harsh and uninviting setting, and me — somehow all wrapped up in the moment together.

After some time, Oat decided a wardrobe change was in order. Since we were in the ruins of a school, teacher's attire seemed appropriate.

But before I had a chance to change, a crippled old woman leaning on a walking stick appeared. She was muttering indistinguishable things in Thai and her voice seemed to rise with each word she spoke.

Fear again struck me, and I sat down next to one of the photographer's friends. I tried not to look at the old woman and lowered my head to appear nonthreatening and respectful. Oat and Oph spoke with her, and I imagined she was scolding them for being there, warning them of the curses of the ruins.

While they talked, I asked the friend what was going on. It seems this old woman was the overseer of the ruins. A local, passing by the riverside gate of the ruins, had seen us and reported to her.

Despite the fact that we used the password to get in, the old woman was convinced that we had somehow jumped the fence, sneaked in and were trespassing. Oat and Oph reassured her that we had been let in at the gate. But given that no one should know the password, she didn't believe them.

She hobbled away, still muttering and swinging her stick. Oat and Oph collected some money from the group and followed her down the hallway. The guys returned within a few minutes to report that the cash had momentarily satisfied the woman, but we wouldn't have much longer to shoot.

I changed quickly and asked where they wanted me. They pointed down the dark hallway that the woman had exited through ... and another shiver rain down my spine. But wanting to make the most of the shoot, I shrugged it off.

After taking a few shots in the hallway, we decided to move outside to the sunshine-lit staircase. The ancient staircase was weather-worn and dilapidated but beautiful in its natural decline.

I was thankful for the comforting warmth of the sunshine, but found that it wasn't long before the warmth turned to overwhelmingly heavy heat. All of us, drained by the excitement and fear of the day, decided it was time to head out.

As we exited the ruins, we passed by the old woman and several others. Remembering her angry mutterings, a part of me thought we had better find another way out.

But then, unexpectedly, the sagging lines of her face softened. We all stopped, "wai"-ed her, and offered our sweetest "Khop kun mak ka/krab" (Thank you very much). She smiled and reminded Oph and Oat that if we wanted to return, we must ask her permission first. After the haunted day we'd had, I can't say that any of us were planning to take her up on her offer!

We retraced our steps through the narrow walkway, back toward the boat dock and discussed shooting at one last location, the high school Oph had attended as a teenager in Bangkok.

Dizzy from dehydration, we opted to take a break in an air-conditioned coffee shop first, regroup and then shoot at the school.

Although Oph's school was beautiful in its own right, it lacked the magic and mystery of the ruins and the river. Weary but satisfied, we wrapped up the shoot just as the sun set on another indescribably surreal day in the heart of a brilliantly unpredictable country.

The unexpected and exciting weekend with hangingpixels reminded me of what I had once loved about the modeling industry — the art of capturing and creating something beautiful, the collaboration between model and photographer, the sheer fun and exhilaration of it all.

And I decided that maybe I wasn't through with modeling just yet...

To uncovering and rediscovering,

Ashley

Ashley M. Fitzgerald was a teacher, model and program coordinator in Thailand until December, when she left due to political unrest. She is now the international student adviser and registrar at Intercultural Communications College in Honolulu, Hawaii. She is a 2000 graduate of Harrisville Central School and a graduate of Middlebury (Vt.) College. "Grown Local, Gone Global" is published every other Sunday. You may send your questions and comments to her at afitzgerald@wdt.net.