A Bit of Meditation

The screeching of the tired old bus engine is replaced by silence of the mountains as we jump off somewhere between Pai and Mai Hong Son. We are directed towards our home for the next days by a path lined with yellow Buddhist flags. Entering the perfectly kept grounds we watch as the people dressed in white pyjama-like clothes embark on the endless task of sweeping the forest's discarded leaves into piles. We meet Luanta, the top monk, and with a smile that appears to have grown into a constant reminder of his happy personality we are welcomed into the arms of the monastery and the comfort of some baggy white pyjamas of our own.

Waking up as early as the sun we are part of a ceremonial offering of food to the monks. Only being permitted to take what is given and not being allowed to handle money goes some way to explain the humbleness of these people. The idea of religious leaders leading by example is indeed refreshing. Having dined ourselves with plenty of rice, vegetables and fruit (with the added luxury of hot chocolate) we are strengthened to join the morning walking-meditation. Silently putting one leg ahead of the other whilst trying to clear the thoughts lets me encounter an hard enemy: the own mind. Having difficulties to calm down for more than 3 seconds I have a hard time imagining how monks are capable of meditating in silence for 7 years 7 months and 7 days. An unbelievable task made only more unbelievable when facing a tiger who is checking out his potential snack as Luanta tells along his many stories. Happily he shares his repertoire of adventures with us .. after all he is human and since finishing his silence years he talks like a waterfall. Ava herself makes an own encounter with the wild life during forest walking meditation - having a snake nearly falling on her head from a tree- hopefully not some kind of omen!

Not enough that I had to survive on only vegan food, I wasn't allowed to eat even that after 12 noon (although I admit cautiousness obligated us to be prepared with a bag of crisps and some emergency peanuts)! But huge portions of food for breakfast and sessions of group-meditation lets you quickly fall into a routine without thinking much about food at all. Indeed worries faint if you are surrounded by an environment that doesn’t care much about money or anything else treated so holy in our world. And so we manage to grasp a tiny impression of what reality looks from a different light – a view that is based upon actual reality ... rather than the interpretation of our chaotic minds. An unimaginable long but rewarding track must lie ahead for the young monks and I deeply find respect for the elder monks as it gets clear why they are honoured so much throughout the people. Its a way of living that requires the individual to work on themselves and to actually understand what you observe. A giving up of desires and extremes along this neutral path. The effect on the whole society must be enormous, with most of the Thai experiencing a monastery in their lifespan, including 20 Thai-woman during our stay. A way not only chosen by locals but also attractive to Westerner of whom some stay for months and maybe years. 

 

Down the Mekong River to the Kingdom of Smiles

After three or so weeks in Laos, we plan our escape to Thailand by slow boat along the Mekong River. Andi makes a last minute dash for supplies for the eight hour journey, and comes back with four donut-like objects containing a bright orange fluid. Not particularly being a fan of donuts, I buy some snacks from a vendor, which turn out to be more donuts, this time with sugary noodles inside. Mentally prepared for the starvation ahead, we board the boat and set off at a steady pace, along with plenty of other foreigners and a few South-East Asians. Passing eight hours through hilly forested landscape with the odd village on stilts, we are occasionally overtaken by the notorious Lao speedboats. By sticking a huge engine onto the back of a canoe, you can make a two day journey in only six hours, if you manage to survive that long. A few hours into our very sedate journey we gained a couple of passengers mid-river, as three very green looking Germans evacuated from the bone rattling speedboat, swapping crash helmet and life jacket for a more favourable Beer Lao.

Finally reaching our stop, we find ourselves unexpectedly on the road less travelled, as everyone spare a few Laos and some chickens stay firmly in their seats. We hop off the boat and are ushered to a waiting pick-up truck, which after being pushed up the hill by the men, is somehow crammed with 22 people and all kinds of luggage. Having a twisting mountain road made purely of sand, we accumulate a nice coat of brown dust before reaching the nearest town. After retreating there for the night we finally reach the border town of Boden, and walk two kilometres across into Thailand.

A lot can change in two kilometres and we find ourselves in a blacked out, air conditioned minibus heading for the provincial capital, travelling at a speed and smoothness unimaginable in Laos. Nan, characterised by the friendly happy people that inhabit it, proves to be the perfect welcome to Thailand. With never enough time, our journey takes us quickly onwards to the North-Western city of Chiang Mai. A pleasant town, with a walled old town at its centre, but bearing the undeniable scars of tourism in Thailand with special 'Farang' prices, western restaurants outnumbering Thai's, and bar girls (or boys) entertaining men old enough to be their grandfathers. We end up staying longer than expected as Andi cant to resist the temptation of getting a tailored suit. With a full day spent annoying every tailor on the map with a bombardment of questions, he finishes with a good deal, some broken tailors and a newly found expertise on the trade.

After some measuring-up we head off into the mountains to the hippy town of Pai while the beloved suit comes into creation. Away from the pollution of the big city, we cross a rickety old bamboo bridge to find ourselves living in a small wooden hut complete with hammock. With all the necessary facilities of restaurants, bars, shops selling hippy attire, and of course free wifi, its not hard to see why this quiet, laid-back, little town is a haven for the backpacker kind. Its a place where you could relax for weeks, months, or even years (and many in fact do), but on advice of a good friend met previously in China, we leave after a few days for a very different destination- Wat Tam Wua, The Forest Monastery.

Stories of the City of Drunks

After a lovely week relaxing we head for the Anti-Christ of Luang Prabang: Vang Vieng. Known as the Mekka for drinking, partying, drugs and complete idiots we decide to check out the place for ourselves.

We arrive to find that the rumours have overshadowed an amazing limestone landscape with dramatic towering cliffs along the river side. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on the observers view) its not the only thing along the river side. Armed with canoes and an international crew of compatriots we drift silently along the beautiful scenery as out of nowhere faint but rhythmic drum beats reach us from the distance. As we draw closer hordes of half naked barbarians crowd the river banks, armed with glass bottles and what appears to be buckets filled with whiskey as legend tells. To our misfortune we get stranded on some rocks in the river right in front of a main bar, which draws great amusement upon the intoxicated dancing mass. Slowly surrounding us in their tractor inner-tubes we do not have a chance left but joining their obscure rituals. Before we know it we find ourselves comfortably perched on the bamboo bar, watching the escapades below. All seems right again with a beer Lao in hand. Even better with two.

Back in town reality quickly conquers back its territory as we encounter an American limping along - foot surrounded by bandages - injured during his excessive river adventure. A typical appearance indeed, with plenty of others hopping around wearing nothing but their swimming attire and a plaster cast. In fact the place seems to have mutated into an outpost of hedonism. For those that are partied out there is bar after bar screening hypnotising episodes from 'Friends' or 'Family guy' (selling happy shakes, space pizzas and of course banana pancakes as well). Not all bananas should be allowed to get pancakes and so, after some discussion on the big white telephone, we take some days off for adjusting to the delicious local food. Being cured first from the travellers illness I use the time for trying to help at the local voluntary 'community' project. Claiming to be aimed at supporting local organic farms and schools by promoting a sustainable community this project invites travellers and their money to make a contribution by building in rural Laos an – as I would describe it – Italian pizzeria. A future guest-house that will offer the controversial 'Eco-Tourism' or more general and better described by some words that slipped out from the owner himself: a possibility to “make money from tourism”. There is not just black and white in this world and the volunteers seemed to be happy to be doing something – whether or not its for the good of the Lao people, themselves or somebody trying to procure a free work force.

We rent a scooter to explore the nearby valley and some of the many caves. On the way we stop along the dirt-road for a necessary tyre-check. Having never been charged for air I react surprised to the mechanics' demanding words after the finished 30 seconds of 'work'. A tiny girl – most likely just having learned her first words – clarifies the confusion: “Money money!”. A phrase that is later also screamed after us by a women attempting to charge us for crossing a tiny wooden bridge over a river we might as well have driven through. In the peaceful back end of the valley we find young children playing in the water and diving with their self-made harpoons for fishes. One of the boys demonstratively shoots the metal arrow, which rams its way into the stony ground like into butter, assuring me of the efficiency of his deadly device. We stop at the rather hidden 'gold and silver flower' cave, passionately and perfectly maintained by an old but surprisingly nimble local and find ourselves surrounded by stalactites shimmering indeed in those precious colours - a fairytale scenery if you wish so. Being called Mister and Misses from a man reminding me strongly on the little boy from Indiana Jones (just 60 years older) gives the event the whimsical feeling of being in a strange film. We stop at another lagoon for a swim, to which a bizarre amount of Americans get transported before heading back to the centre of noise.

Stories from the City of Monks

 

A lot of blessings richer we head down to the former royal capital Luang Prabang. We arrive at night and battle our way past “TUKTUK?” shouting motor-taxis towards suburban areas. With an exchange rate of 1/10,000 even being millionaire would not allow us to rest for long in the upper class tourism that is all present in the centre. We stop at a fine guest house with one of the typical at the entrance placed shrines - a symbolic home for the house spirit and place of daily offers to keep the good luck going. Covered in magnificent temples and occupied by monks and tourists, the city emits a contrasting feeling of modernity and antique. Amidst the chaos and serenity, I meet three young orange-robed novices – bright and remarkably aware personalities for an age where I still spent more time on the Nintendo than in the sunlight. After some cheerful 'monk-eying around', as they put it, I head back into the town, amazed at how little the seemingly unstoppable expansion of tourism impacts upon the path of the young Buddhists. In the morning we rise with the sun to watch the long procession of monks walk through the town, accepting food offerings from the devout Buddhist citizen for breakfast. The event is joined by tourists as well as locals who make their profit out of the former by selling little offering-food-baskets. Later at a temple we watch an American – proper fed and with shorts better described as a belt – heading up a ladder towards a novice reading his book on the balcony. He politely stands up while the woman is placing herself for a camera shot right next to him. A thank-you gesture later she is down the ladder and heading back out of the temple. Left behind in a mixture of amusement and disbelief, he watches the stamping march of the lady, who just about ignored almost all social rules. 

 

During the days we wander through the dozens of temples, learning more about the unique stencil technique and style and exchanging chitchat with the inhabitants. To maintain these excessive walks we finally take advantage of the invention of bread – a deliciosity introduced by the French colonials and arguably their best contribution to the world (except wine of course). Ava - coming from the country of Lord Sandwich - welcomed this nice surprise. Strengthened we head for the seemingly endless night-market where legions of handmade silk-scarf stands line up together with snakes swimming in liqueur and other bits and bobs. 

Using another perfect sunny day we hire together with a Swedish-Slovakian couple a TukTuk towards Kuang Si waterfalls – a magnificent collection of travertine terraces and indeed the most paradise-like natural swimming pool we have been to. Amidst the ranks of tourist we see the odd monk, out on a sight seeing day with video camera in hand, stopping for a casual break with a cigarette in hand. Monks are people too.