Buddha Park

I've been hanging with three other solo female travelers for the past couple days and we all agree that there's just something about Laos that slooooows you down. The pace of life here is so slow, people are so relaxed, that you can't help but chill out yourself. So none of us has done much of anything here, until today when we all grabbed a tuk-tuk together out to Buddha Park, about 25 kilometers from the center of town. It was the weirdest place, just statue after statue of different Buddhas and Hindu gods. There was one giant structure you could enter, through a big mouth, and climb up to the top for a view of the whole place. It felt a little like Raiders of the Lost Ark inside. And at the other end of the park some guy had climbed up into the temple and was playing the flute, which for whatever odd reason just seemed to fit. It was definitely one of the strangest tourist attractions I've ever seen.




Remnants of an offering on one of the statues.

Nothing is sacred

For the first time in a long time, I woke up while it was still dark out this morning to go observe the offering of alms. Every morning here in Luang Prubang, as in many cities and villages across Southeast Asia, the monks come out en masse. They form a long line and proceed to advance through the streets where locals, and now tourists, line up to give them food. From a hygiene perspective, it's kind of a nightmare as everyone uses their hands. But then, that is still my over-sanitized American mind at work.

It's a cool ritual, one that a friend of mine participated in, as a monk, when he lived in Thailand. It was quite a sight to see - hundreds of monks, young and old, shuffling down the street in silence. It was beautiful. At the same time there was something not beautiful about it as well, and that was the fact that the tourists just about outnumbered the monks. I had seen signs around town showing pictures of obnoxious behavior - camera-happy tourists standing too close to this procession to get that "perfect shot". The posters serve as a plea to "please respect this tradition" by not doing this. Sadly, some folks had missed these signs. I never got closer than the other side of the street. In a way it was a missed opportunity as I don't have a good enough zoom lens to get the kind of shots I could picture in my mind. But at the same time, there's something to be said for sitting back and observing with your own camera, your eyes, sometimes. At one point, overwhelmed by the spectacle of it all, I decided to turn the lens on the tourists. It was almost as interesting as taking pictures of the monks themselves.

Don't get me wrong, by my mere presence alongside everyone else I was anything but above the fray. I wonder how the monks feel about it. I wonder if any other tourists felt the way I did. I wonder why I was born with such a keen sense of observation. It's a blessing and a curse.




Nearly empty baskets of rice wait to be picked up after the procession.


Unfortunately this shot is a little dark because I didn't want to use my flash. I just think this is the epitome of cluelessness and poor form. She even had a point-and-shoot, most of which have ridiculous zoom capabilities.

Time flies when you're having fun

I didn't realize it had been so long since I last posted. There's something about this place that seems to make the time go by faster. Yesterday was Thanksgiving and I celebrated with... hold on to your hats... Indian food! It was homemade, though, and quite tasty. I was also given a couple pointers on how to eat with your hands and once you know how to do it, it's not so bad.

Yesterday I went down to Dharamsala, a pretty big city compared to McLeod Ganj. You can pretty much get anything there, including Western-style clothes. In one store I almost felt like I was back in the U.S. Also in Dharamsala is the Norbulingka Institute, another Tibetan Buddhist site. It is very beautiful there, and peaceful.


Outside Norbulingka, a sheep chows down... or up.


Oh my God this place needs to stop being so beautiful or I'm never going to get out of here!

The Dalai Lama

This afternoon I got to hear the Dalai Lama teach to a group of Russian Buddhists on the concept of dependent origination, basically that everything depends on everything else in order to have meaning. I was vaguely familiar with this concept before, so I was able to follow most of the talk. His Holiness spoke in Tibetan and I listened to the English translation on an FM radio. I was able to snag a fantastic seat and he was in my line of sight. My friend who went to the morning session as well couldn’t believe it, as he was sitting outside the temple. About halfway through the talk, the monks came around and filled up our cups with Tibetan milk tea, more milk than tea really. Apparently they usually put salt in it as well, but this wasn’t salted. I’ve tried salted tea and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Another interesting moment was when the monks came around and distributed 150 rupees to all the monks in attendance. If I had the red robes on, maybe I could have passed.

At one point during the talk the Dalai Lama sneezed and shortly thereafter chuckled heartily as he noted the translator’s surprise when he did this. Then he joked that if anyone was falling asleep out there, he could wake us back up by sneezing. He’s very affable. I got to see him get into his car; tomorrow I think I will try to position myself in this area so maybe, just maybe, I could shake his hand or at least make eye contact. Talking to some of the other tourists in attendance I learned what a treat it really is to be here and see him talk basically for free. Apparently people pay hundreds of dollars to see him speak in other venues. This, of course, does not take into account how much I’ve spent on this trip, but nevertheless it feels pretty cool.


I wasn’t allowed to take my camera in, but I took this picture of a monk outside the temple the other day.

Altitude adjustment

Wow, just when you think things couldn't get worse... they get better! I am happy to report that I think I have found a place in India that I could totally fall in love with. It is the McLeod Ganj/Bhagsu/Dharamsala area, way way way up north in the Himalayas. It's nowhere near Mt. Everest or the top of the world, but in some ways it feels like it. I rolled into the train station at Chakki Bank around 3 a.m. and wasn't exactly sure what would transpire after that, as in how or when I would reach my destination, or what that destination was to be exact, but somehow everything just seemed to fall into place. I soon met up with a young German couple who are traveling with their 3-year old daughter (brave!) and we split the cost of a taxi up to Bhagsu, just north of McLeod Ganj. The taxi driver happened to have a friend who has a guest house and so we ended up getting rooms there. My room is huge, there are actually two double beds in it, and the best part of it is that there is a hot shower. This is key because there is no heat in the room and it is really really cold here. I am thankful for the down jacket that I just got in the mail before leaving Varanasi (thanks Mom!). I may also be investing in a hat and some mittens and more wool socks while I'm here. I'm tempted to buy myself a lovely pashmina scarf... hmm... these are not cheap, especially by Indian standards, but they are soooo fantastic.

I think I slept for 4 or 5 hours on the train, so when I got into my room around 6 a.m. I slept for another hour or so. Upon waking I reveled in the hot water until it ran out and dried off as quickly as possible before layering up and heading out to check out my surroundings. Breathtaking would be a good way to describe it. Here is the view from the guest house:


The mist is almost magical here.

I hiked up into the village for a bit, admiring the scenery, when I was joined by this little fella and other members of his family:


Talk about a welcome committee! They followed me around the whole time and even accompanied me back into town. One of the reasons I love this place is because even though there are street dogs here, they are not abused and actually seem to be very well taken care of. This is likely due to the influence of the Tibetan Buddhist community here (yay for Buddhism!).

So I've spent the day wandering around, eating, drinking chai... you know, all the things you're supposed to do on vacation. I love having only a vague sense of what time it is, being able to read for hours on end, and just seeing where the wind takes me.


Heading into McLeod Ganj, a 2 km walk from Bhagsu.

Hooray for infrastructure

On Thursday we went to Sarnath, the “birthplace of Buddhism,” where Buddha gave his first speech after enlightenment, his discourse on the Four Noble Truths. Although we got to see the site of this event, we went to Sarnath for other reasons. In this city there is also a school that was founded by an Italian man, a friend of Kamla’s and Loknath‘s. The teachers at the ashram school are all graduates of this school and they use the same teaching methods. One of Valentino’s approaches is to bring the students inward. They do yoga and meditation every morning, and there are moments of meditation throughout the day. It seems to be quite effective and the students were impressive. In addition to learning English, they have also begun to learn Italian. After only four months of study they were able to carry on a basic conversation with the Italians from the ashram. Not bad.

Equally impressive, or maybe it just left quite the impression, was the bus ride to and from the school. Two buses transported all of the students from the ashram school, some of their parents, the teachers, staff, and volunteers. This does not mean that there was one seat for each body; often there were three or four people in a 2-seat row. It was a bumpy ride and in both directions kids were throwing up left and right. Madonna. Sarnath is 13 kilometers from Varanasi. The ride there took about 45 minutes, but the ride back took two and a half hours! The bus driver took the “bypass,” bypassing what I’m not sure. The way to the ashram? Perhaps they did this on purpose as they were getting paid extra for each hour after 3 p.m. Also, this ride didn’t include door-to-door service as the buses couldn’t reach the ashram because of the roads. The whole gang had to walk or get a ride about a half a mile on either end. Picture a group of schoolchildren weaving in and out of rickshaws, cows and buffalo, cars and motorcycles. Crazy. Yet somehow we all made it there and back. What an adventure.

It usually takes me a day or so to process what I experience here. Some things are just so bizarre that while they are going on it’s hard for me not to judge through my western eyes. Just today, for example, as I was waiting for Kamla to run an errand, I saw a woman “taking out the trash,” which meant just tossing it out the window onto the street. That was in one direction. In the other was a boy about 4 or 5 years old squatting and doing his business on a pile of rubble, some of which he then used to clean himself afterwards, right there out in the open. What I know and what the reality is here are two completely different things, so it’s challenging on many levels.


Waiting for the bus.


The Italian take on the Tibetan prayer flag. Valentino is a Buddhist and actually knows the Dalai Lama, who has visited and given his blessing to the school.


They cooked us an amazing lunch at the school. Here one of the young men prepares a chutney.