Buddhist Monks, Water Monitors, and My Wildest Thai Golf Round
You know those rounds of golf that start normally and then take a turn into the twilight zone? This was not one of those rounds. This one started weird and got weirder. By the 9th hole, I was questioning whether someone had spiked my morning coffee with something recreational.
It began at 5:47 a.m. at Ayutthaya Golf Club, when I arrived to find thirty Buddhist monks in saffron robes standing on the first tee. Not practicing their swings, mind you. Just standing there, chanting, while the head professional looked like this was completely routine. Which, as I’d learn, it absolutely was.
The Blessing That Changed Everything
“Cannot start yet,” my caddie, Khun Malee, informed me with the kind of smile that suggested she was enjoying my confusion. “Monks blessing the course today. Very lucky for us!”
My playing partners – an Australian couple named Bruce and Sheila, and a Thai businessman named Khun Prayuth – were equally distributed between bewildered (the Aussies) and delighted (Prayuth).
“Happen maybe one time per year,” Prayuth explained. “Today special day. Course get blessed, we play better!”
I watched, mesmerized, as the monks walked the entire first hole, chanting and sprinkling water from silver bowls. The grounds crew followed behind like a respectful entourage. The sunrise painted everything gold and orange, matching the monks’ robes so perfectly it felt staged.
“Do we… wait for all 18 holes?” Bruce asked, checking his watch.
Prayuth laughed. “No, no. They bless first hole, Buddha take care of rest. We follow behind. Very special round today!”
Teeing Off in a Spiritual Slipstream
At 6:15, we were given the go-ahead. The monks had moved on to their blessing breakfast (even holy men need fuel), but the atmosphere they left behind was… different. I can’t explain it properly, but the course felt charged somehow. The morning birds seemed louder. The dew sparkled more. Even my pre-round stretches felt more meaningful.
“See?” Malee said, watching me stripe my drive down the middle. “Buddha help your slice today!”
She wasn’t wrong. That drive was pure as morning prayer. Of course, my second shot found the water, because Buddha helps those who help themselves, and my 8-iron swing wasn’t helping anyone.
The Lizard King Cometh
The 4th hole at Ayutthaya is a par 5 that runs along an old canal. I’d just hit my best 3-wood of the year and was feeling pretty blessed myself when Sheila let out a scream that probably woke up sleeping monks three provinces away.
“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT?!”
‘That’ was a water monitor lizard roughly the size of a small crocodile, sunbathing on the cart path like he owned the place. Which, judging by how the caddies reacted, he basically did.
“Oh, that Godzilla,” Malee said casually. “He live here long time. No problem if you no problem him.”
Godzilla – apparently that was his actual name among the staff – was a good six feet long, with a tongue that flicked out to taste the air and probably our fear. He looked like something from Jurassic Park had taken up golf.
“We… play through?” Bruce asked, gripping his 7-iron like a weapon.
Prayuth was already taking photos. “Very lucky! Monitor lizard mean good fortune! Maybe hole-in-one coming!”
Godzilla, for his part, seemed utterly unbothered by our presence. He watched my approach shot with what I swear was judgment in his prehistoric eyes. When I came up short of the green, he did this thing with his head that looked suspiciously like disappointment.
The Monkey Business Begins
By the 7th hole, I thought we’d hit peak weird. The monks were a distant memory, Godzilla had wandered off to terrorize another group, and we were settling into something approaching normal golf. That’s when the monkeys arrived.
Not one or two scouts. I’m talking about a full troupe of macaques, maybe twenty strong, including babies riding on their mothers’ backs like tiny, furry golf spectators.
“Oh no,” Prayuth said, suddenly serious. “Monkey come means someone have banana.”
All eyes turned to Sheila, who was frozen mid-bite, banana in hand, looking like she’d been caught robbing a bank.
“Drop it!” Malee commanded with the urgency of a bomb disposal expert. “Drop banana now!”
But it was too late. The monkey scouts had communicated back to HQ. The invasion was on.
The Great Banana Heist of Hole 8
What followed was the most surreal five minutes of my golfing life. The lead monkey – clearly the Don Corleone of the troupe – approached Sheila with the confidence of someone who’d done this before. Several times. Probably that morning.
“Just… give… banana…” Prayuth advised through gritted teeth.
Sheila, bless her, tried to break off a small piece. Big mistake. Huge. The monkey general made a sound that clearly translated to “Do I look like I want a sample?” and three of his lieutenants flanked her cart.
“JUST GIVE HIM THE WHOLE BLOODY THING!” Bruce shouted.
She tossed the banana. The monkey caught it one-handed, peeled it with the expertise of a Michelin-star chef, and began eating while maintaining eye contact. Power move.
But here’s where it got properly mental: The other monkeys started investigating our bags. One found Bruce’s energy bars. Another discovered my pack of crisps. A baby monkey somehow unzipped Prayuth’s bag and emerged with his rangefinder.
“No, no, no!” Prayuth pleaded. “That new Bushnell! Very expensive!”
The baby monkey held it up to its eye, mimicking what it had seen us do. I swear on my handicap, it looked through the viewfinder at the flag, then at Prayuth, then threw it in the bunker.
“See?” Malee said, trying not to laugh. “Monkey know you need more practice reading distance.”
The Spiritual Interlude
After the Great Monkey Raid (losses: one banana, three energy bars, various snacks, one rangefinder, and our dignity), we needed a moment. That’s when we noticed the small spirit house behind the 9th tee.
Prayuth immediately went over with flowers he’d apparently been carrying for this exact purpose. “Must make offering,” he explained. “Say sorry for disturbing monkey. Ask for good back nine.”
We watched him place the flowers, light incense, and wai to the spirit house. The caddies nodded approvingly. Even Bruce and Sheila, not exactly the spiritual types, seemed moved by the simple ritual.
“You try,” Prayuth encouraged me. “Make wish for no more slice.”
What the hell. When in Ayutthaya, right? I approached the spirit house, placed my last golf ball as an offering (seemed appropriate), and made my wish. Malee helped me with the proper wai form.
Did I feel silly? A bit. Did my drives straighten out on the back nine? Actually, yes. Coincidence? Maybe. But as Prayuth said, “Buddha works in mysterious ways. Sometimes through monkey. Sometimes through Godzilla. Sometimes through better shoulder turn.”
The Back Nine Zoo
If the front nine was weird, the back nine was absolutely barking mad. Word had apparently spread through the animal kingdom that there was entertainment on the golf course.
Hole 10: A peacock decided to display his full plumage just as Bruce was putting. Have you ever tried to putt while a bird is basically staging a Broadway show three feet away? Bruce four-putted. The peacock looked satisfied.
Hole 12: Godzilla made his return, this time with what I can only assume was Mrs. Godzilla. They were… well, let’s just say they were making little Godzillas. Right on the fairway. We took a very wide detour.
Hole 14: The monkeys returned for an encore, this time interested in Sheila’s pink golf balls. She ended up donating three to the cause of monkey entertainment. They juggled them. Actually juggled.
Hole 16: A massive golden Buddha statue watched over the green. As I lined up my putt, a monk appeared from nowhere, observing silently. I made the putt – a snaking 20-footer for birdie. The monk smiled, nodded, and disappeared back into the trees. Prayuth nearly cried with joy. “Monk approve your putt! Very auspicious!”
The 18th Hole Convergence
As we approached the final hole, it felt like the universe was preparing its grand finale. The monkey troupe had assembled in the trees lining the fairway. Godzilla and his mate were sunbathing near the water hazard. The peacock was strutting around the green. And in the distance, we could hear the monks chanting their evening prayers.
“This,” Bruce said, teeing up his ball, “is absolutely mental.”
“No,” Prayuth corrected. “This Thailand golf. Same-same but different!”
My final drive of the day was perfect. Dead center, good distance, Buddha and all his creatures apparently approving. As we walked down the fairway, the whole menagerie watching, Malee summed it up perfectly:
“Today you play golf with all Thailand. Monk give blessing, animal give lesson, Buddha give experience. You very lucky man!”
The 19th Hole Debrief
In the clubhouse, over Singha beers that tasted like liquid enlightenment, we tried to process what had just happened. Other golfers listened to our story with knowing smiles.
“Ah, you get the full Ayutthaya experience!” one said. “Last month, python on 15th green. Very exciting!”
The pro came over to apologize for the “disruption” of the morning blessing. We nearly choked on our beer.
“Disruption? Mate, that was the best bloody round of golf I’ve ever played!” Bruce declared.
He was right. We’d shot terrible scores (the monkey incident alone added five strokes), but none of us cared. We’d played golf in a living, breathing ecosystem where monks blessed our drives, lizards judged our approach shots, and monkeys provided commentary on our course management.
What I Learned from Thailand’s Wildest Golf Course
That round taught me more about golf – and life – than any lesson ever could:
Respect the Locals: Whether they’re monks, monitors, or monkeys, you’re in their house. Act accordingly.
Flexibility is Key: Your pre-shot routine means nothing to a peacock in full display mode. Adapt or suffer.
Every Round is Sacred: Those monks weren’t just blessing the course. They were reminding us that golf itself is a kind of prayer – a walk in nature, a test of spirit, a practice in patience.
Animals are Honest Golf Critics: Godzilla’s head shake at my mishit was more truthful than any playing partner’s “nice try.”
Offerings Work: Whether to Buddha, the spirit house, or the monkey mafia, a little respect goes a long way.
The Return Pilgrimage
I’ve been back to Ayutthaya four times since that day. Never quite caught the monk blessing again, but the animals are always there. Godzilla recognizes me now (I think). The monkeys have accepted me as a regular source of accidental entertainment. The peacock still times his displays for maximum disruption.
Each round is different but somehow the same. Nature and golf intertwining in ways that would seem impossible anywhere else but make perfect sense in Thailand.
Your Thai Golf Safari Awaits
If you get the chance to play Ayutthaya or any of Thailand’s more “natural” courses, here’s my advice:
Go Early: Not just for the heat – the animals are most active at dawn
Bring Offerings: Flowers for the spirit house, fruit for the monkeys (but hide it until you’re ready for chaos)
Respect the Monks: If you see them blessing anything, wait quietly. The karma is worth the delay
Don’t Fear the Wildlife: They’re not interested in you, just your snacks and occasionally your golf balls
Document Everything: Because no one back home will believe you otherwise
Embrace the Chaos: Your scorecard will suffer. Your soul will soar
That day at Ayutthaya, I didn’t just play golf. I participated in a living meditation where birdies meant actual birds, where hazards included prehistoric lizards, and where the real blessing wasn’t breaking 80 – it was breaking free from the idea that golf should be predictable.
So next time someone tells you Thai golf is just about perfect conditions and beautiful courses, tell them they’re only half right. Tell them about the morning the monks blessed your driver. Tell them about Godzilla’s course management tips. Tell them about the monkey who stole your rangefinder but gave you a story worth its weight in Bushnell gold.
Because that’s Thai golf at its absolute finest – where every round is an adventure, every hole is a mystery, and every creature, from monks to monitors, is part of the game.
Cheers from the spiritual fairway, Nick
P.S. – If you do encounter Godzilla, don’t try to pet him. I know he looks friendly in a prehistoric sort of way, but Malee assures me he’s “same-same crocodile but different.” Also, if the monkeys surround you, just surrender your snacks immediately. Trust me on this one. The rangefinder can be replaced. Your dignity? That’s gone forever. Mai pen rai!