VISION IN WHITE(clock wise) The immaculate façade of the Wat Supattanaram., THE elegant and informative Ubon Ratchathani Museum., GOLD-COATED balls of luck and faith, Wat Payai., SHADES of Quiapo, anting-anting for sale., THE Mun River., THE wooden har thai of Wat Thung Si Muang., FEEDING  the pidgeons, Wat Payai.

UBON RATCHATHANI. A long, enchanting name and—to use that travel-brochure cliché most-often employed to describe Thailand—exotic. v Oddly, I wasn’t feeling particularly excited about my first visit to this northeastern Thai city. Ubon, as the Thais call it, was merely a stop on our way to Laos’s southern provinces. It was to be a brief visit—exactly one morning—before we were to cross the border to Laos’s Wat Phu and its pre-Angkor temples.

We had arrived in Ubon the night before, and the city exerted no strong pull for exploration. Even the guidebook we had brought along listed no major sights of interest. 

Ubon in the soft-morning light reminded me of Philippine provincial capitals. Iloilo perhaps. The flatness of the landscape and the gentle pace of life were somehow reminiscent of the city I grew up in. And faced with a few hours to kill, I thought to myself that, just like Iloilo, Ubon might hold up some gems if only one would care to scratch the surface, so to speak.

I promptly sent an SMS to a well-traveled Thai friend with a query as to the more visit-worthy places in Ubon. His reply was prompt, yet kilometric—a long list of temples, some museums and a weaving village a few miles from the city. How now to whittle down the long list to a few hours of sightseeing? 

Pressed for time, we spoke to a tuk-tuk driver hanging out right outside the hotel, settling on three temples and the Ubon Ratchathani National Museum, all within the city limits and all for 300 baht.

Our first stop was the Wat Supattanaram, which sits on the banks of the languid Mun River. Of noteworthy interest is the main temple, painted a monochromatic white, uncharacteristic of Thai temples in its understatement. There was also an impressive giant wooden bell carved from a single block of wood, a few paces from the main temple. Unfortunately, apart from a gaggle of school children sweeping the temple grounds, there was no one to ask about the sights. 

And so we moved on to two more temples, the Wat Thung Si Muang and the Wat Payai.

The former is significant for its wooden har thai, within which are kept important religious manuscripts, built under the supervision of a monk from neighboring Laos. The extensive temple grounds were quiet and apart from an overenthusiastic monk who kept waving us into the wooden building, there were no other visitors.

Wat Payai, in contrast, was abuzz with activity.  Clearly, the Wat Payai monks were more adept at courting local patronage. Behind the main hall filled with prayerful devotees, vendors of anting-anting had staked their places in a small park shaded by tall trees. Laminated medallions, small brass icons and even diminutive wooden phalluses were laid out on tables for tourists and cognoscenti to scrutinize and buy. “Parang Quiapo,” I thought to myself.

Clearly, the highlight of the morning’s sightseeing was the Ubon Ratchathani Museum. Right smack in the center of the city, the museum is housed in an elegant 1918 building which used to serve as the city hall.

The museum had visual treats aplenty—in and out of its elegant home. The building itself was delight—a single-story structure now painted a trendy pale yellow still sporting many of its original features. It was un-air conditioned yet airy, with light and breezes filtering freely through the elegant tracery of the transoms above the doors and windows.

We realized too late that the museum, with its informative overview of the history and culture of the city and the surrounding areas, should have been our first stop. We learned that—surprise!— the city, despite its temples and air of history, was, in fact, founded only in 1792 by settlers from what is now present-day Laos. We marveled at the folk arts of the area—from ikat textiles to betel-nut serving dishes to bamboo glutinous-rice containers with elaborate wood finials—authentic art forms that our cities, some even older than Ubon, may have once had, but have now all but lost.

Our morning in Ubon was in sum a pleasant and enriching visit, spent in a tourist destination I had originally tagged as “unlikely.” These days a visit to Thailand, or any of our other Southeast Asian neighbors, almost always evokes that familiar sigh followed by a comment on how far our neighbors have surged ahead. Good roads, massive airports, convenient bus and air connections—these are the sights that greet us and make us envious. My sigh is reserved for how the traditional culture of Thailand, despite the country’s modernity, seems not only better preserved, but clearly put out for visitors to enjoy.  

We capped our morning in Ubon with a lunch at a roadside stall. Spicy sausages, papaya salad and sweet, roasted bananas. Native, yes, and delicious. Where, I challenged my friend, might a tourist wandering into the Iloilo of today, sample the pancit molo of my childhood Sundays?

A Morning in Ubon

UBON RATCHATHANI. A long, enchanting name and—to use that travel-brochure cliché most-often employed to describe Thailand—exotic.  Oddly, I wasn’t feeling particularly excited about my first visit to this northeastern Thai city.

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