I gazed into the horrified eyes of the monk and wondered, when will this nightmare end? It started out so peaceful, calming – enjoy a serene breakfast on a Thai monastery in the northwest corner of the country. How incredible does that sound? For a girl who has never really had much inner peace, never really felt truly connected to anything, it sounded like an amazing opportunity.
My friend Christopher and I arose VERY early from our Bangkok beds and were driven up to the monastery, detouring a few times to pick up ‘breakfast’. I thought we were picking up breakfast that we would enjoy – so this figured heavily into my selections. I envisioned us sitting on bamboo mats, chowing down on fresh fruit and pastries with these Buddhist monks who were imparting the secret to peace and happiness in between mouthfuls of croissants. Just before we reached the gates of the monastery our Guide outlined the protocols that needed to be followed in the presence of the monks. Eager to please as always, I readily lapped them up. 1) Appropriate dress – long sleeves and pants, no hats and no red clothing – check. 2) For females, NEVER touch a monk. In fact never even get close enough to accidentally brush up against the monk. 3) Before we eat, it is respectful to give morning alms – after placing your items in the offering basket clasp your hands together and bow slightly. 4) Never sit in a fashion to that the soles of your feet are in the direction of the Buddha in the temple. This was getting quite complicated for a nervous and uncoordinated girl such as myself, but with the promise of everlasting peace at the end of it all…I would muddle through.
The initial alms presentation went remarkably well. There were several instances where I bowed too soon or forgot to clasp my hands right, but no one seemed to mind, I think they could tell I was a rookie. The only real blush-inducing moment came when I looked up to carefully ensure that I placed my gifts in the basket, taking great pains to not touch the monk, and I inadvertently made eye contact. Now there were no rules ever presented to me regarding eye contact, I thought it was just implied. It wasn’t the eye contact that made me blush however…the monk that I made eye contact with was about my age, and unbelievably good looking. My mind unconsciously went the way of any single girls mind and my thoughts became inappropriate – especially considering the target of them. I have no idea how, but I swear this monk could see right through me…he smiled this adorable lopsided grin and carried on. I stood there, bright red, ashamed and wondering if I should just turn and flee into the Thai jungle behind me. The next monk, older and a tad more cankerous, cleared his throat and snapped me back to reality. He gave me this disapproving glance, took his alms and moved on. Why must everything I do have an element of humiliation involved?
After alms, the monks made their way to a private temple for some private reflection while the guests were shown around the grounds and the protocol was reviewed again. Finally we enter the building where breakfast will be served – I am now starving and my mouth is drooling at the thought of the delicious treats that I have selected to enjoy. I imagine all the monks praising me on my fine shopping skills and raving how this is the best breakfast ever, surely my fantastic selections can make up for my inadvertent fantastical thoughts of earlier. I come out of my daydream to realize that the monks have entered the building and seated themselves, soles away from Buddha, in a half circle on the bamboo mats. It is pretty clear by the arrangement that they are seated in, that there is no room for me. It seems I and my fellow guests are going to enjoy a different breakfast not directly with the monks, but in their presence. Slightly disappointed but somewhat relieved that I won’t have to face the cute monk or the cankerous monk again, I take a tin tray from the makeshift buffet line and survey the options. I did not recognize a single thing, except rice, but given my adventurous spirit and love of food, I helped myself to some new treats.
I take my tray over to a chair (probably the best way to ensure that the westerners don’t inadvertently point their feet in the wrong direction) and sit, preparing to be infused with serenity through osmosis while sampling some new culinary treats. Everything went well until the ‘dessert’ – that was the portion of the meal that Christopher has subsequently referred to as ‘the incident’. I sampled the ‘dessert’ a flat cookie shape item. Imagine gelatin, corn and sea salt all mixed together. Does it sound vile? Well it is. So vile in fact that I immediately started to gag. I tried to swallow it down, just to have it over with, but that only made it worse. Now I was gagging louder and louder, tears were welling up in my eyes. Christopher began to slowly distance himself from me while I just prayed that no one else would notice. Do you have any idea how quiet a monastery it the middle of nowhere is? The more I tried to be quiet the nosier the gagging became. The peak of humiliation came when I made eye contact with one of the monks. I will never forget the horrified look on his face that a tourist might vomit all over the floor of his temple. I gazed into the horrified eyes of the monk and wondered - when will this nightmare end? As inappropriate as it may be, given my location, I said a quick prayer to God and asked for some divine intervention.
Realizing that there was just NO WAY this food was going to go down and sensing no impending miracle...I was forced to regurgitate, in very ladylike fashion, the offending dessert in question back on to my simple tin tray.
You know for a peaceful religion I was quite shocked by the murderous looks I received from the monks...however I did check the rules again, no where does it say "do not vomit on a monk". I guess they thought that was implied.
