When I’m traveling, I have a rule: always say yes. Clearly, this doesn’t apply if it’s going to put me in obvious danger, but otherwise, I like to take advantage of every opportunity presented. So when my friend (whom I had known for a total of two days) asked if I wanted to stay at a Buddhist monastery, I agreed without hesitation.
After minimal research and a fast google map inquiry, we hopped on the back of her motorbike and headed to Wat Ruese Pa Saeng Tham Buddhist temple on the island of Ko Pha-ngan, Thailand. They apparently take anyone because Luang Por (the lead monk) invited us to stay without hesitation. Shortly after receiving our invite, a gaggle of nuns our age in white robes and sporting shaved heads beckoned for us to follow them to the supply closet. I thought we’d be given some sort of official garment but the girls rapped us in literal bed sheets and called it good enough. Following this, we were shown to our room. I wasn’t anticipating the Best Western, but I also wasn’t expecting that we wouldn’t have a mattress. Nor did I realize we’d be sharing the room with a lizard the size of my forearm, but the nuns barely acknowledged it—this was business as usual.
The next morning our intensive schedule began with 4:30 am meditation, followed by “exercise” in the courtyard. There isn’t much working out you can do in a cotton sheet wrapped and pinned into place, so this ended up being less about us moving our bodies and more about moving our mouths. Turns out nuns also like to bend the rules so we sat in a circle pretending to stretch but mostly gabbing. Due to the nun’s limited English and our complete lack of Thai, the conversations had hurdles, but we made the most of it. One thing I’ve learned through traveling and dating a man in Ecuador who only spoke Spanish is how to get creative with communication.
After our exercise of running our mouths, we began chores. I was taught the art of the one-handed sweep and to view it as a meditation. To make the most of it, I visualized the sweeping away of my worries—each swing of the broom brought me closer to peace. It also brought me closer to breakfast.
A lot of people assume that all Buddhists are vegetarian especially if they’re dedicated enough to live in a monastery. To my surprise, it was just the head monk and I who did not eat meat. Our meals were buffet style and most of the food displayed on the table was hard to identify. I went through each dish pointing and asking, “no meat?” In the end, I ate noodles and rice. I was sure to eat a lot of it since there is no eating past noon.
After breakfast, we had a brief recess and I took a fat nap. If there is one Buddhist rule I can not get down with, it’s how you are not supposed to overindulge in sleep. Following the break was more meditation and after that more chanting. Although I thoroughly enjoyed meditating, the chanting proved to be difficult for me. My friend and I had English-translated books to follow, but the sounds still came unnaturally, and my general lack of rhythm hindered me. At a certain point, I gave up and used the lip-syncing trick: saying, “watermelon,” over and over. Nonetheless, the chants were beautiful to listen to.
Much like my cadence, my bowing needed improvement. I couldn’t seem to get my forehead to the floor while keeping my thighs together. Luang Por was not pleased. I tried to explain how my thick thighs restricted me from curling into a ball in the same way that their slender, two-meal-a-day bodies could. This only resulted in Luang Por shamelessly announcing, “your friend can do it and she’s bigger than you!” My friend and I couldn’t help but laugh knowing that he didn’t mean to be rude.
The rest of our days went something like this: more chanting and meditating, lunch, chanting and meditating, teaching, final chant and meditation, and ended the day with a reflective conversation among the group. If you’re keeping track, that’s a total of five meditations—not including the meditating we did before both meals. At home, I feel good about myself if I manage to get one fifteen-minute session in and these were each an hour. Basically, this was the longest day of my life and by the end of it, the wooden bed awaiting me sounded strangely attractive.
As far as cool experiences go, this is in my top five. However, I’d definitely classify it as type two fun—hard to do, fun in hindsight. It has also left a lasting effect on me and I continue to challenge myself in meditation. The day after we left the monastery we found ourselves drinking Pina Coladas at a beach party. Luang Por would be disappointed but in my opinion, life is about balance.
