At around 12.45 pm I reach the Wat Ton Pho Sri Maha temple in Prachin Buri, in the north-east of Bangkok. The road conditions had very quickly changed for the worse and the impression of northern Europe at the height of summer had now completely disappeared. The towns along the road were dusty, large and busy. The buildings, often up to 20 metres high, were now often in a desolate state and the above-ground power cables hung everywhere in a chaotic tangle of wires. Beautiful was something else.

After the satnav had guided me off the main road, the streets and buildings became smaller, but the conditions hardly improved. I turned right, followed a kind of small bypass and drove past the temple. ‘Thanks sat nav, next time please let me know a little earlier”. After turning round, I spotted a small entrance in a white wall. I steered my car, now completely covered in yellow-brown-grey dust, onto a gravelled area and stopped in the shade of a tree. In front of me was another large temple area with lots of big temple buildings. However, this time without a soul. The whole place was very well-kept and the temple buildings were all open. But there was no one here. It was totally deserted here. Like a backdrop, without actors. I wasn’t even sure if I was actually standing in a car park, but there wasn’t anyone here who could be bothered by it.

There were no display boards. Not even in Thai. Once again, it was an extremely warm day with a clear blue sky and over 35 degrees. The grounds were mainly paved with large stone slabs or consisted of gravelled areas. There were only a few sparse trees between the buildings, with a few larger trees at the back. I wandered around the temple grounds somewhat haphazardly. I walked past large wooden bungalows, some of which had orange fabrics hanging on the veranda to dry, but they were almost falling apart. There were some service buildings and something like a canteen, but no people. The temple buildings themselves were very impressive, very gilded, finely decorated, clean and well-kept.

Near a large temple, I came across a tree of a special size that was wrapped in colourful fabrics. The tree had twisted around a stone, a bit like the Big Tree in Krabi. This time, however, the monks had carved a shrine for praying out of the stone. It was an impressive sight, but I somehow had the feeling that this would not be the oldest tree in Thailand. Finally, I came across a man who was about to climb onto scaffolding to paint the wall of a building. I asked him about the old tree using the translation app and he immediately pointed to the exit. Was I in the wrong place? But the address had been correct. ‘Other side of the road,’ the man told me with a hand signal.

There was also a wall and an archway on the other side of the road. However, this was much smaller and only passable for pedestrians. Behind the archway, I could already see a green meadow and a large trunk. I looked round and looked up. Only now did I realise that a tree, mushroom-shaped, almost like a lid, had spread its crown across the entire width of the wall. I entered the archway and saw a circular square that was closed off from the outside by a wall. The only entrance and exit was this small archway in which I was standing. Along the wall, in a kind of veranda, dozens of Buddha figures had been erected and countless large bells were attached to the gable of the veranda at regular intervals. There was a bit more going on here. I had already seen three women selling incense sticks from their vendor’s shops outside the entrance. Now, inside the courtyard, I even discovered six Thais spread out in the courtyard, praying in front of the huge tree. This was also the first time that I had seen Thais actively praying to and in front of a tree!

This tree stood in the centre, was not a secondary object, but THE magical institution worthy of worship. A Buddha statue had even been erected directly in front of the tree and a special area had been paved to give people a space for their prayers. However, the tree itself is not so easy to get to. Similar to the Tamarind tree in Suphan Buri, the people here have erected a massive fence made of rusty iron around the tree. But here it was not constricted by heated stones, instead a green protective ring of fresh, living green grass was placed around it, as well as some signs in Thai and English urging people to please only approach the tree respectfully, i.e. barefoot. I found it remarkable that this tree, similar to the old tree in Suphan Buri, but in stark contrast to the trees in Ko Yao Noi and Krabi, had grown alone, without the protective environment of other trees. While the large trees seemed to achieve their sheer size through the support and protection of the other trees and the rocky surroundings, and even integrated other trees into their inner circle, these old trees were apparently loners. Or was it because they had simply lived much longer than the other trees? That they had simply outlived them and had not tolerated the ‘offspring’ of the other trees, or perhaps these had even been removed by humans?

Thailand’s oldest tree

Kind: Ficus religiosa; Bodhi Tree

Size: 30,00 m

Grith: 25,00 m

Age: > 2000 Jahre

Place: Prachin Buri; Wat Ton Pho Sri Maha Bodhi Tempel

The tree itself was large and quickly alive. Similar to the Legendary Tree in Suphan Buri, some of the branches had been stabilised and secured with supports. But this time there were more delicate wooden supports and there were nowhere near as many of them. This tree and its branches didn’t really seem to need it either. Rather, the supports seemed to be a safety device in strong winds. Unlike the Big Tree in Ko Yao Noi and Krabi and even the Legend Tree in Suphan Buri, this Bodhi tree hardly had a real, solid trunk. Instead, it consisted of many different trunks that were intertwined and branched out. The special thing about this bodhi tree was undoubtedly its crown. Almost like an oversized bush, a multitude of thick ‘branches’ grew directly out of the ground and formed a filigree firmament of branches. The trunks themselves were not just smooth, like the Tetrameles Nudiflora in Ko Yao Noi, or as ‘scaly’ as the tamarind tree from the legend. The trunks here were intertwined and twisted. Almost a little like snakes or giant worms intertwined with each other. This created a mystical, dynamic effect and at the same time a calm one due to the actual lack of movement. Some tribes undoubtedly looked very old and frail, while others looked very young, vital and healthy. And in still other trunks, young and old parts had apparently even merged into one another. The branches and leaves, which formed an impressive, filigree canopy, were vital, young and in full green. They were such a stark contrast to the old, gnarled structures at the heart of the collection of trunks. This Bodhi tree lived polarity, lived and united apparent opposites and brought them into harmony. As is usual in these climatic zones, there was no real autumn in which the tree would shed all its leaves. Individual, old and thus withered leaves were continuously shed from the tree, while new, fresh leaves were also constantly being formed. I dare to doubt a little that the whole tree has experienced the enormous lifespan of over 2000 years. It is probably ‘only’ the core and the old wood inside that has resisted death for so long. The majority of the tree will, it seems to me, have grown back again and again and thus extended its lifespan for over 2000 years. An existence almost longer than the current horizon of human consciousness.

‘Strength through renewal’ comes to mind again. Renewal, for over 2000 years. As a basis for survival, change and adaptation during an incredible time. Like us, as humans and humanity, but much more slowly. It has constantly grown and expanded, after all, it didn’t always look like it does now. A perpetual cycle of constant growth and constant death – of individual branches, leaves and entire trunks. A constant up and down. How many phases of this must this tree have already experienced? How much decomposition, destruction, death, suffering, weakness? How much strength must it have experienced? New growth, development? How much change around it? But the tree itself has always been here. Always just there. It has always carried on and renewed itself again and again. In stoic frugality and passive presence. Just on and on. Unimpressed by the fleetingness of life around it, calm and steadfast, every day, in all weathers. Seemingly motionless and passive, yet so present and with a somehow powerful, graceful and mystical effect.

Now I was sitting here, by the tree, experiencing an important moment in my life. But for this tree, this situation wasn’t even a moment. My entire life is the blink of an eye compared to the tree, this enormous span of time.