The bike, the heat, and the blessings: part 3

I got a late start on Sunday.

It was overcast when I set out, my bike clanking away as it does and me wondering if it would last the day. It’s not a very long ride to the archeological park, to Angkor Wat a bit further, and from there another few minutes to Angkor Thom.

I could have started at Angkor Wat, but had discovered sometime during the week they had elephant rides in Angkor Thom, and I thought only in the morning. They normally go from the south gate of the city to the east gate of Bayon temple, but when I got there they had moved up to the east gate already, and so just cycled the rest of the way.

They were now doing loops around the temple, and I parked my bike. The people running the rides were very friendly. They can’t do rides for just one person, but quite fortunately there was a friendly Malaysian guy who was also by himself, and so it worked out perfectly. We waited for the elephants to come back and chatted amiably.

I bought a pineapple to give to the elephant, and they cut it up into three pieces for me. Most people seemed to be afraid of the elephants, kind of dropping the fruit and running, but I know they’re very gentle and tried to wait while the trunk – so delicate for such a big creature – wrapped around the fruit.

The ride itself was bumpy, the little platform to hold us rocking back and forth as the elephant shifted its weight, and not entirely comfortable. But it was really cool. Afterwards, I set off to the temple, which turned into a much longer adventure as I realized there were many more – Angkor Thom was, in fact, a whole city – and it was going to take a lot more exploring than just checking out Bayon.

The adventure took me the entire morning, each again totally different from the previous day and from each other, today an experiment in climbing very steep stairs. The clouds had gone away, and the day was sweltering hot. The shade – wherever I found it – was welcome, and by the time I started trying to find my way back to Bayon, I realized I’d wandered very far.

There was one thing of special note in this adventure, a stop by one of the huge shrines surrounding the temple with the enormous statues of Buddha. I found one empty, three ancient women sitting around with shaved heads and a great lack of teeth. They smiled at me and waved me over, and I came gladly. I took the incense and one showed me how to do the three bows, which I already knew, but let her show. Then, she pointed me to her two colleagues, and one tied another bracelet around my wrist. As she did so, all three came over, touching my hand with theirs, and intoned the blessing together.

At the end, the one put my hand to my head. They pointed me on to the next temple, and I went, feeling quite touched.

When I finally found my way back to my bike – taking a wrong turn and unnecessarily wandering around the entire dang Bayon temple – I found the elephants gone, the table gone, and a small plastic bag with some mysterious foodstuffs in my bike basket. Wondering if they had been thrown there or left for me purposefully, I headed off to the next stop, Ta Prohm, stopping to buy a one dollar pate sandwich along the way.

Curiosity killed the cat, and however much I had no clue what was in the bag, I had to try it, finding it to be something fried, with some veggies in the middle. I didn’t trust it, but had a few bites, and went off to explore.

By the time I was on the road to Angkor Wat, I wasn’t feeling very well, though whether or not that was the heat, a lack of water, the sun, or the mysterious foodstuff, I’m still not sure. It was a full 7km to return to Angkor Wat and by the time I got there I was seriously dragging. The sun was really overwhelming.

I parked the bike and bought a cold water. I didn’t stay long. The temple looks like it does in the picture, and is impressive for its sheer size – and I guess the bas-reliefs, which I said I wasn’t much interested in. It was crowded, and under construction, and I stayed long enough to feel the stones and then went off in search of a rest and water.

Following this, and feeling a bit better, though still hotter than I’ve ever been in my life, I got back on the bike and dragged myself home, my body protesting the entire way, and wasted no time in cranking the AC and going to bed.

Traveling alone was nice for the freedom I had, though the day was a bit of a struggle, most for the heat. I suppose I could have spent more time everywhere, but I just didn’t feel the need. It was enough, as I said, to see them, and to feel the stones.

By the evening when the rains came, they were heartily welcome, and I again had dinner with my new friends, this time joined by a couple of Dutch girls, as they were sitting next to us and we just started chatting.

It set the stage for Monday dinner, which is currently one of the fascinating experiences I have ever had, and I guess that’s saying a lot. To be continued…

Blessings and Buddha

In the past week, I've found myself looking for some kind of cleanse and restart for many reasons. Getting settled in new life here, of course, but I think it's goes back to the end of the chapter of my life that was university and the transition into life, in a new and very foreign place. Figuring out what I want moving forward, and how to forgive and let go with what's past.

I am not a Buddhist, or a Christian, or anything religious. I am, in fact, an atheist to the core, though neither cynical nor militant. However, when my friend Nettra said her mom was urging her to go the temple and get blessed before her return to school in Paris, I immediately asked if I could come, feeling in it the opportunity I had been looking for.

We went this morning, very early, leaving the house at seven. The temple was just outside the city and we were going to meet a specific monk, who apparently knew the family and had blessed their house when they bought it. The temple was like the rest of them, the entrance a big, ornate gate and behind it the beautiful, curling architecture so markedly Asian. I had never been inside one before, only seen the pagodas of the temples here in the city.

There was a main sanctuary, if I can call it such, closed by a gate and clearly the heart of spirituality. It was built up, steeps steps going up with the bannisters covered in the sculptures of naga, a mythical seven headed snake, acting as guardian.

The entire compound is covered with those curled architectural flourishes and colors, gold and red and grey. Nearby there are small pagodas tombs, grey and ornately carved with their tall spires, though I never actually figured out for whom. Wealthy benefactors of the temple, maybe. In the back, tucked away behind the main building and another two story building, are the monks' quarters. They are nothing special, little blue bungalows with washing hung on the balconies. You could see them, walking around in half-togas of orange.

The monk in question was out getting food with several of his brothers, so we looked around a bit. Despite the construction on one side, the whole place was vibrating with peace and calm. There were stretches of grass, plants, and birds, a few lazy dogs. No one was hurrying, or rushing.

A few carloads of monks returned. These wear deep red robes, apparently a signal of what temple they're from. Our monk was very old -- I later learned he was ninety -- and was being helped by a younger monk. We did not go into the main sanctuary, but into a smaller, two-story building nearby. Inside was a room with a Buddha statue, covered with gifts, offerings, and candles, and then a small bench for the monk, covered again with offerings.

We had bought some bread to offer him, and presented it on a gold plate, seating ourselves on the carpeted floor. The monk's secretary began asking the sign of the year we were born, and the day we were born -- apparently there are certain days that are better to be blessed - if you do the whole nine yards - than others. Of the three of us, the two born in 1990 and the year of the Horse -- me and my friend Nettra -- were advised to be blessed. Our friend, a year of the Dragon, was told Sunday or Monday would be better.

I had been worried they wouldn't agree or it wouldn't be a good day for me. I was up half the night thanks to a dodgy dish of fried noodles with "Tofurkey" meat from a Chinese vegetarian dive and was feeling more in need of a blessing than ever. However, with my year accepted and Saturday apparently a good day for me, I followed Nettra into another room, with small tiled rooms.

In each were a couple short stools, barely five inches tall, and a tiled pool of water about a foot and a half by a foot. I had known there would be water involved but didn't realize how much, as Nettra handed over a sarong to wrap myself in and said to take everything else off.

Completely naked under the sarong, we sat on the stools to wait, our backs to the door. One of the guys working there brought some hot water to warm up the pool, and then the monk arrived. We bent our heads, hands together and touching the nose.

He began to chant in sanskrit, his older voice wavering slightly as he murmured the words, a sweet chant that faded at the end. He took huge bowlfuls over the water and poured them on us, our backs, necks, and heads. The water had been perfumed by flowers, and after two bowls Nettra said to wash my face. By the end -- five or six bowlfuls later -- we truly were drenched to the bone.

I don't know how to properly describe it. I didn't know what he was saying, but closed my eyes and felt the waves of encouragement pouring over my head with the water, and imagined it running down with dirt and confusion and everything else I wanted to let go of. I don't know why, but my eyes were full and my throat tight.

After, lacking towels, we dried off the best we could and got dressed, returning to the other room. I lit some incense -- eight sticks, following the advice of Nettra's mom, and placed them in the smaller offering to the Buddha just outside.

Because our friend hadn't gotten the full blessing, the monk blessed the four of us again, this time just sprinkling water and chanting. Following instructions, we bowed three times to the monk at the end, and then three times to the Buddha. "You can pray too, ask him whatever," Nettra's mom said.

To bow, by the way, you put your hands together by your head, then touch them to the ground, usually with the body bending as well. I did, and with my head on my hands, asked the Buddha for what I ask every god, regardless of whether or not I believe in them: strength, and courage.

As far as I can tell, one can never have too much of that.

The East, and the West

Had a conversation with my friend about some key differences between eastern and western philosophy that I thought I would pass on, as they were really interesting.

We got on the subject because I was asking about monks. They are very common here, in robes of varying degrees of orange. On the backs of motorbikes, walking along, giving a blessing after someone gives them food, or quietly, patiently standing in front of a shop, waiting to see if the owner feels like giving them anything. In Buddhism, I learned, monkhood is not just forever. Some people, perhaps following the death of a close family member, will shave their heads and go to the temple for a couple days as a sign of respect.

We then moved onto female monks, nuns, as I haven't seen any Buddhist nuns. They're rare, my friend said, but often becoming a nun means forever, as in Christianity. She didn't have an explaination for that, but I thought it was interesting. In any case, she mentioned that sometimes when a mother has lost her husband, she'll live in the temple for the rest of her life.

I don't think I'd ever get to that place, I said. Even then there'd be things to do.

My friend paused, then remarked that this was a fundamentally western thing to say. She explained that Buddhists believe in reincarnation, and thus the endless cycle of living and dying. In that case, to keep on doing things is kind of pointless, because no matter how much you finish there will be more, and then you'll have to do it all again in the next life.

Well. In my thoughts, this life is all you get, and while some western religions include a paradise (or inferno) in the picture, we all agree that this time on earth is what you get, and just disagree on the following proceedings. Besides, it is a very fundamentally western outlook to just keep doing and living.

So the east looks at the west and thinks, what's the point?

And the west looks at the east and thinks, why are you wasting your time?

Funnily enough, both are equally valid and understandable, given their background.

The last thing I wanted to note was a quick revelation about Buddhism that my friend told me about. I had always thought that Buddhism and meditation was about pushing away feelings, so you don't want anything.  But no, she said, because the point is to not want anything, so if you push things away, it means you don't want to feel.

Therefore, you let yourself feel the emotion or the want fully, but then let it go. I don't think I'll be turning Buddhist anytime soon, but the thought was enough to make me start meditating and practicing that before I go to sleep at night!