Phimai Historical Park

Start with your feet. The ground here changes as you walk. There is soft grass, then rough laterite, then smooth sandstone worn by centuries of bare and sandalled steps. In the late afternoon the stone turns warm under your palm. Its colour shifts from pale grey to a soft pink. Around you, birds call from the trees, and somewhere beyond the walls a motorbike passes through the small town of Phimai. Then the central tower comes into view... and the town noise seems to fall away.

You are standing inside Phimai Historical Park, in Nakhon Ratchasima province in northeastern Thailand. This region is often called Isan. The temple at its heart is usually called Prasat Phimai. The word prasat means a tower sanctuary, a stone shrine built to house something sacred. It is one of the largest Khmer temples in Thailand. The Khmer were the people of the empire centred at Angkor, in present-day Cambodia. For several centuries, much of this plateau looked toward that distant capital.

In old inscriptions, this place appears under the name Vimayapura. The modern name Phimai most likely comes from that older word. Most scholars date the main sanctuary to the late eleventh or early twelfth century. That is a little earlier than Angkor Wat. Here is the first surprise. Most great Khmer temples of this period honoured Hindu gods like Shiva or Vishnu. Prasat Phimai, however, was dedicated mainly to Mahayana Buddhism, one of the major branches of the Buddhist tradition.

Now notice the direction of the temple. Most Khmer temples face east, toward the rising sun. This one faces roughly southeast. Many historians link this unusual direction to Angkor itself. An ancient road ran from this town toward the imperial capital. Travellers on that road passed rest houses and hospitals built along the way. So the temple did not only face the morning light. It faced the political and religious centre of its world.

Walk toward the southern entrance and you reach the naga bridge. A naga is a sacred serpent in Hindu and Buddhist art. Here the serpent bodies form the stone railings of a raised, cross-shaped terrace. Their many heads rise at the corners like open fans. In Khmer belief, a naga bridge marked a crossing. It took a visitor from the human world into the world of the gods. Pause on it for a moment before you go on.

Beyond the bridge stand the gateways, called gopuras. They pierce a long outer wall of red sandstone and laterite. Laterite is a rough, reddish stone full of small holes, common in this region. Builders often used it for walls and foundations, and saved the finer sandstone for carving. Look closely and you can see the difference. The laterite feels coarse and bubbly. The sandstone feels close-grained, and it holds sharp, delicate lines.

Inside, a gallery surrounds the inner court. Then the main tower rises at the centre. It is built mostly of pale sandstone. Its shape climbs in stepped tiers toward a rounded tip, like a lotus bud. Many scholars suggest that towers like this one helped shape the later design of Angkor Wat. Whether or not that is the full story, the family resemblance is easy to see. If you have visited Angkor, this outline will feel familiar.

Now look above the doorways. The heavy stone beams over the doors are called lintels. At Phimai, many lintels show Buddhist scenes rather than Hindu myths. Some show the Buddha himself. Others show dancing figures and protective deities. Over one southern doorway, look for a seated Buddha sheltered by the hood of a many-headed naga. This image recalls a story in which a serpent king protected the Buddha from a storm while he meditated.

Here is the second surprise. The temple you see today was rebuilt. For centuries the tower lay partly collapsed, with blocks scattered across the ground. In the twentieth century, Thailand's Fine Arts Department led a long restoration, with French expertise. They used a method called anastylosis. In simple terms, it means taking a ruin apart, numbering each stone, and putting the original pieces back where they belong. New stone fills only the gaps. Look for slightly cleaner, smoother blocks among the weathered ones.

Two smaller towers stand near the main sanctuary. One is built of red sandstone and is often called Prang Hin Daeng, the Red Stone Tower. The other is known as Prang Brahmadat. Inside it sits a copy of a seated stone figure. Many scholars believe the original shows Jayavarman the Seventh, one of the most powerful Khmer kings. The original statue is kept in the Phimai National Museum, a short walk away. It is worth the visit if you have time.

The empire faded, but the temple stayed part of local life. Over the centuries, the Khmer influence gave way to Thai kingdoms. The town grew around the old walls. Today the park sits in the middle of Phimai, not out in an empty field. Houses, small shops, and noodle stalls press close to the outer wall. Monks from nearby temples sometimes pass through the grounds. Families come in the evening to walk and to sit in the shade.

The wider landscape matters too. The Mun River flows close to the town. It is one of the major rivers of northeastern Thailand. Water was central to Khmer life, and old reservoirs and moats appear around many of their towns. Just outside Phimai, locals are proud of a vast banyan grove called Sai Ngam. It grows from what is said to be a single tree spreading over a wide area. Every year the town also holds boat races on the river.

Before you leave, stand back from the main tower and look once more. Notice how the light moves across the carved surfaces. In the morning, shadows sit deep in the lintels. Late in the day, the sandstone glows. Listen to the birds in the trees along the wall. Feel the stone under your feet again, smooth where so many people have walked before you. Then walk out slowly, through the gateway, and over the serpents of the bridge.