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By Benjamin Malcolm
I had a dream at the Rachamankha.
It was a powerful reverie, filled with sights, sounds and sensations,
melding the hush of a Japanese temple with the majesty of a Chinese
nobleman's house and wrapping my wife and me in a five-star hotel's
arms of comfort and luxury. Such a dream cannot last forever; indeed,
this one lasted for only a weekend.
It begins with breakfast, a bountiful display of food and hospitality
that almost trumps our Shan-themed dinner of the night before. A
buffet of breads and all number of choices of muesli and fruit are
combined with a strong, fresh cup of coffee. I look at the menu
and order a stuffed omelette, keeping the coffee flowing over a
long, leisurely meal. Other guests begin filtering in and I have
to push my plate away. I am stuffed with food, happy and ready to
begin the day.
A new character enters our dream, Rooj Changtrakul, the soft-spoken,
affable owner. He is about to give us a tour, guiding our explorations
in the confines of the Rachamankha, which is located near the holiest
temple in the walled city of Chiang Mai, Wat Phra Singh. Mr. Rooj
tells us how he had always been inspired by his travels, especially
through the temples of Japan, through the peaceful, elegant and
simple designs that evoke a powerful and meditative sense of quiet.
"We just want it to be a home, not a hotel, not something
trendy," he said. "We just want something very simple.
Even in the front we plan to put a very small sign."
There is most definitely simplicity here and it must be said, elegance.
We can see this from outside the restaurant in the gravely confines
of the hotel's parking lot. There are three building clusters in
all spread out over five and a half rai of land, interlocked with
courtyards, which create a sense of privacy and cool bedrooms and
pathways naturally with low overhangs. It is very much like a classic
Chinese house, with Lanna-style and even Lampang temple architecture
added carefully. As in Chinese temples, stone statue pairs of lions
and horses act as guards at doorways, supplementing the human staff
which quietly goes about their business.
The overall architectural concept is by Ongard Satrabhandu, the
same architect who designed Tamarind Village. The Rachamankha was
completed in April 2004, after two years of building and is undergoing
finishing touches on its two bedroom suites for its grand opening
in late November.
All of us are now walking in the dream, continuing into the hotel,
turning this way and that past white stucco walls, the sound of
Thai classical xylophone in the background guiding us to the small
reception room, a very simple desk. Above this office, at the juncture
of the ceiling, is a Laotian fresco, a depiction of the life of
the Buddha, painted sometime in the 1950's. Clothes and styles from
that era are part of this fresco and we spend several minutes admiring
the touches of the artist.
The Rachamankha is a historical treat. Sprinkled all about, in
rooms and sitting areas and even outside in hallways are Lanna,
Chinese, Indian, Japanese and Burmese antiques. Mr. Rooj has selected
a bounty of antiques over 15 years of travelling. Each room has
something interesting; our bedroom holds a collection of Chinese
bureaus, chests and tables, the latches a simple metal rod inserted
through the holes of handles. Outside our bedroom is a 19th century
Shan storage chest, a huge piece of dark, intricately carved wood.
There is even history behind the construction of Rachamankha.
"It's like a historical site," explained Mr. Rooj. "When
we dug the foundation we found artefacts, some 700 years old, like
a Ming Dynasty bowl. On the second floor, above the restaurant,
we plan to put a museum to show all these."
Mr. Rooj explains the importance of colour and construction within
the hotel, the concentration on classic Chinese colours and his
personal preference for red, white and black.
Thai and English language mix during our tour as the heat rises
in the morning and my wife and I pepper him with questions as we
wander into the main area of the hotel, deliberating over certain
antiques and noticing the details which have been laboured over
in construction. There are sounds of hammering and other building
noises coming from the set of two-bedroom suites, noticeable but
not loud enough to wake us up from our ongoing dream-walk. When
these are completed, there will be 30 rooms in all.
We walk into an open-air living space and eventually head out to
the pool, which is tiled dark blue. The water looks especially inviting.
Later, we will manage a night swim, finding the temperature amazingly
warm and soothing for the depths of the rainy season. The tour ends
in the library, stacked high with books of all description, a perfect
place for a business centre, which is one of its intended purposes.
As with all first-class architecture, the Rachamankha has been
designed with its environment uppermost in the architect's mind.
The numerous courtyards are the most obvious signs of this, but
there are others. Toward the entrance, a section of the building
has been cut into, to allow a tree branch a free outlet. In another,
kitty-cornered to the reception area, a banzai-like tree with red
flowers is set off in its own alcove. It's hardly any surprise that
the symbol of Rachamankha, dotting brochures and hotel glass everywhere,
is a lotus bud opening to the air.
Our dream's guide, Mr. Rooj, is off on other business and we are
left alone to enjoy the confines of the hotel, free to wander, to
eat, to swim and to simply relax. It ends all too quickly the next
morning with us departing with our bags for the bus ride back to
our home in Chiang Rai.
Was all this really a dream or reality? Perhaps a bit of both,
for the line between these two states seems so malleable at an extraordinary
hotel like the Rachamankha.
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