Maybe There Will Be More Monks

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Geo: 18.8, 98.98

I have finally gotten to Chiang Mai! I wanted to come here from the very beginning of this adventure, but things just worked out differently until now. But here I am, finally! And after only one day I already love this city. It looks like Denver, nestled in the mountains (although the number of temples belies that), and feels a bit like Cambridge, Mass, the old Cambridge of the 1970s, when I lived in Harvard Square; it has that energy about it, although the people are quite different.

To get to Chiang Mai most people either fly, or take the train from Bangkok. I had read so much about the train that I decided to take a sleeper on one of the overnight trains. It takes about 14 hours to get to Chiang Mai from Bangkok, so I thought sleeping through most of that might be a good decision. It would have been, except that the sleeper cars are so cold that even with two blankets, and wearing all the clothing I brought with me, I still could not get warm. The attendants listened to our complaints, but said the AC was "automatic," that it would turn itself down when we went to sleep. Hmmmm. I did not believe that, and that did not happen. As Aesop said (this is a paraphrase), it is better to learn from someone else's mistakes rather than making your own. So if you ever decide to take the train either from Bangkok to Chiang Mai, or vice versa, make sure to bring a winter coat. And a blanket. And socks. And a warm hat. And maybe a sleeping bag too.

But I made it through the night, although my shoulders and neck still hurt today because I must have tightened them up so much during the long cold ride. This morning I was up before the others in our compartment. On sleeper trains in Thailand four people are put into one little space; ours had three guys, and me. Oh boy, I thought, and asked the large man who was sitting on his bunk, drinking his third beer (and putting his trash and empty beer bottles, his shoes, bags, on my side of the room) if he snored. My husband snores incredibly loudly, and I don't sleep well, if at all, with that kind of noise, so wanted to know if maybe I could ask to be put into a room with women, rather than all men, since I have never yet met a woman who snored as loudly as some men do. That wasn't possible, so I reasoned that maybe the sound of the train's moving would mask the snoring. This all happened before any of us was aware of the real problem: the cold.

Peter, my large first roommate on the train, was from Germany. He is maybe in his late 50s, and either a little crazy or already somewhat drunk by the time I met him. Then four younger men all stuck their heads in; they were traveling together, but quickly figured out they wouldn't all fit into the two bunks left in our compartment. So Laslow, 31, and Christian, 35, both originally from Hungary, stayed and the other two went next door. What great roommates! Laslow was very light-hearted, and was a perfect foil to Peter's increasingly dour mood. Christian seemed more serious, but we all had a hilarious time responding to Peter's strange comments about life in general. We laughed for hours, it seemed; such a funny grouping worked out very enjoyably.

Around 10PM we all decided to draw the curtains around our individual bunks, and turn in for the night. Peter gallantly gave me his blanket; "I'm from Germany," he said. "We have lots of cold weather and snow in Germany. I'm used to it!" I thanked him and wrapped myself up in a double cocoon, although I heard him later getting another blanket for himself. "Laura," Peter said. "Can you hear the snoring?" The guy in the next compartment was already asleep and snoring! We all had another good laugh, and then the three of them got quiet, and I tried to get warm. That never happened. At some point during the night I did sleep; my little area actually felt warmer. I found out later the train had broken down during the night, and the AC was off for three hours while they were fixing the engine! But then it got to be really freezing again, and stayed that way. So I got up and got dressed before any of the others were even awake.

Riding through northern Thailand in the early dawn is beautiful. The sun was a bright red ball, lifting over the green hills; the early morning mists were still rising from the valleys, obscuring parts of the sun from time to time. As I looked out the train window (still wrapped in my two blankets on top of my daytime clothing) I saw six monks walking in a straight line down an empty country road, carrying their bowls for their daily food. The colors were intense: red sun, green trees and hills, white road, brilliant pink flowers, bright orange monks. Such beauty! Because of the speed of the train, the monks were quickly out of sight, and I found myself hoping that maybe there would be more monks for me to see this morning; it was a internal happiness that I felt physically in my midsection, in my heart, I suppose. What joy! And I watched for more monks.

Nobody else in our compartment stirred yet, even though many other people were awake and moving about, and I did see another string of four monks with their bowls, but the time had advanced, and the colors had muted somehow, become more ordinary, so this time the feeling was not transporting. Ah, well, we never know when something will touch us so intimately, connecting us with the divine. So we can't look for it or anticipate when this will happen. But when it does, it is a gift that should be treasured as such. Maybe there will be more monks? I am certain of it.

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Comments

[lailasa]

Wow, great Mama! I mean, sorry it was cold but it's great that you met some fun travel buddies :) Have a great time!

[Ariel]

You need more fat on you, then you won't be as cold! See Ursa vs. Orange... Sounds like a good travel experience, after all, you've been too hot for weeks now. Glad you had windows and decent companions.