In 1986, a sad metamorphosis of Chiang Mai’s town centre had been completed. A huge and extremely ugly brick wall had arisen along Mun Muang Road, while a small pleasant park had been replaced by a dull tiled square that reminded me of East Berlin. One evening a crowd had gathered at the new Tha Phae Gate in front of a meditating monk. Other monks were selling his portraits and amulets and many visitors were offering candles and incense. This monk, I realized with excitement, was no one less than Khruba Si Wichai. A friend of mine, who was a dealer in amulets, had always praised highly this greatest of all northern monks. He had told me that Khruba Si Wichai possessed all kinds of supernatural powers, like mind-reading and enduring fierce sunshine without showing any signs of perspiration.