Wat Chaiwatthanaram

Listen first. A long-tailed boat drones somewhere on the river behind you, and the sound fades into the trees. Under your feet the path is warm and gritty. Ahead, a tower of dark red brick rises out of the grass, layered like a mountain carved from clay. The air smells of cut lawn, river mud, and a little incense from somewhere you cannot quite see. This is Wat Chaiwatthanaram, on the west bank of the Chao Phraya River, just outside the old island city of Ayutthaya.

The temple was built in 1630, during the reign of King Prasat Thong. He was a king who came to the throne through palace intrigue rather than simple inheritance, and he wanted monuments that would make his rule look permanent. Two reasons are usually given for this temple. One is that he raised it to honour his mother, on land connected with her residence. The other is that it marked a claim of victory over Cambodia. Historians still discuss which mattered more. Perhaps both did.

That Cambodian link explains what you are looking at. The great central tower is a prang — a tall, rounded spire shaped a little like a corn cob. This form came to Thailand from the Khmer world, the civilisation that built Angkor in what is now Cambodia. By the seventeenth century, Ayutthaya had mostly moved on to other styles. So this temple was a deliberate look backwards. It borrowed the grand old language of Angkor to say something about power and legitimacy.

Now look at the whole layout, not just the tower. The central prang stands on a raised platform. Four smaller prangs sit at its corners. Around them runs a rectangular gallery, and along that gallery stand eight smaller structures shaped like chapels with pointed tops. Together they make a map of the universe as described in Buddhist cosmology. The central tower is Mount Meru, the sacred mountain at the centre of everything. The smaller towers are the continents and peaks around it.

It helps to imagine the building as it once looked. Today you see bare brick, worn and red. But that brick was once covered in white stucco, carved and moulded into fine decoration. Some surfaces were gilded or painted. Under strong sunlight, the whole complex would have shone pale and bright against the green of the riverbank. What you see now is closer to a skeleton. The bones of the temple survived. Most of its skin did not.

Walk to the gallery and look at the rows of seated Buddha images. Many of them have lost their heads. This is one of the first things visitors notice, and it is not natural weathering. In 1767, a Burmese army captured and burned Ayutthaya, ending its four centuries as a royal capital. Temples across the city were damaged. In the years that followed, many Buddha heads were also removed by looters and treasure hunters. The quiet rows of headless figures carry that whole story without a single word.

Here is a detail many people walk past. Inside the eight chapel-shaped structures around the gallery, there were once relief panels showing scenes from the life of the Buddha. They were made from moulded stucco and lacquer. Only fragments survive today, and you need patience to find them. Look closely at the inner walls. You may pick out a faint figure, a fold of robe, or the edge of a scene. It is easy to miss — and very rewarding when you spot it.

After the city fell, the temple stood abandoned for a long time. Trees grew from the brickwork. Treasure seekers dug into the towers. In the twentieth century, Thailand's Fine Arts Department began serious restoration, and the site was cleared and stabilised. In 1991, the Historic City of Ayutthaya was listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Since then, this temple has become one of the most photographed places in the old capital.

The river is part of the story too. Ayutthaya was a water city. Canals and rivers circled the island, and boats carried kings, monks, merchants, and foreign traders. This temple faces the Chao Phraya, and in its time royal processions could arrive by water. Turn around and look at the riverbank. Small traces of the old ordination hall stand on that side, closer to the water. The temple was designed to be seen from a boat as much as from land.

Water has also tested the site. In 2011, severe floods covered large parts of central Thailand, and this temple stood in water for weeks. The lower brickwork and the grounds were damaged, and more repair work followed. As you walk, notice where newer brick meets older brick. The colours and textures are slightly different. These patches are the honest record of a building that people keep choosing to save.

You may notice something else here — people dressed in flowing traditional Thai costume, posing between the towers. This is a newer custom. Shops nearby rent out these outfits, and the trend grew strongly after a popular Thai television drama set in the Ayutthaya period, called Love Destiny, aired in 2018. Some visitors find it charming. Others find it surprising. Either way, it shows that this ruin is not only a museum piece. People still use it to feel connected to their past.

Light changes this place completely. In the middle of the day, the brick looks flat and orange, and the heat comes up from the paths. In the late afternoon, the sun drops behind the temple from the west. The towers turn into dark shapes against a gold sky. That is why so many people wait for sunset here, and why evening boat trips on the river often pass this bend. If you can stay, watch how the red brick slowly turns brown, then grey.

Before you go, find a quiet spot along the gallery and stop for a moment. Look up at the central prang. Count the layers of its tiers as they narrow towards the top. Listen to the birds in the trees and the boats on the river. Nearly four hundred years ago, a king built this mountain of brick to make his reign look eternal. The reign ended. The city fell. But the mountain is still here, and right now, you are standing at its foot.