Last two weeks in Asia

Whizzing across the Philippines on a jeepney, I saw a quote painted on a school that said “the difference between wealth and poverty is education”. Singapore is a marvel of engineering intellect, prompting friends I met up with there to exclaim “it’s the future!” every time they came across a new innovation. The same card is used for the metro, parking fees, and even entrance fees some places. The tallest, most prominent building, Marina Bay Sands, is actually a cantilever, the top deck grounded to one stand but only resting on the other two; right next to it is the world's first & longest DNA bridge. There is a general air of efficiency with marked bus lines, designated taxi wait areas, and high rises.

The Philippines is something else entirely. Whereas you get the impression after a while that every major project in Singapore is geared toward tourism (the ubiquitous shopping malls, preserved natural areas turned into paid-entry parks), tourism isn't a huge market in the Philippines - so it seemed like the best way to see the islands is by using transportation.

After flying into Bohol, my cousin Tina and I took a bus to the Chocolate Hills, an area with several thousand eery hills in the middle of the island. With my bag, there was absolutely no way I was walking up the hill the hotel was on, but after getting off the bus, it looked like our only option was... a motorcycle. Straddling my 45-pound bag, the driver slowly putted up the hill, me and Tina behind him, holding on for dear life. Thank goodness it was a 5-minute ride.

In Cebu City, we used primarily jeepneys, trucks where the riders sit on seats on the truck bed under an overhang. On Bohol, we dealt with a stubborn tricycle driver, who insisted on a 20-peso ride and mentioned after arrival that it was 20 per person (we came to find out that that's a pretty typical ploy). Ferries ranged from car-shipping boats to push boats. As annoyingly cumbersome as my bag was, it brought out the best in everyone we met, from those that helped bring my bag into congested buses, to those that moved over to give me a bit more space, smiling all the while.

From the vantage point of buses, jeepneys, and ferries, we saw dense tropical forests, towns celebrating their annual festivals, amazing views of beaches, and plenty of parents pointing out to their kids the strange-looking foreigners. That took getting used to!

Eating was always an experience, although (fortunately) not the kind I had the first time I went to the Manila airport. Our first meal in the Philippines was.. pizza. There were all the typical American chains and somehow we managed to frequent a lot of them: McDonald's (we had to try the spaghetti), California Pizza Kitchen, Pizza Hut. There were bakeries in even the small towns, serving all kinds of things that couldn't often be described in English.

"Vegetarian" seems to be a flexible word in the Philippines. The vegetarian part of the menu usually included such dishes as "crabmeat with stir-fried vegetables", and dishes that sounded meat-free would come with gratuitous pieces of chicken or pork. So getting traditional dishes, like chicken adobo and squid, was the most predictable way to go.

Food was a lot more straight-forward in Singapore, prepared with the advertised ingredients, but different enough to push my culinary limits. Since I was there for a little over 2 days, my friend Esther's family was convinced that I had to try all the available varieties of food in that timeframe. Somehow we managed to eat pork rolls for breakfast, dim sum, Indian food, Malaysian-influenced food, sting ray, and all sorts of brightly-colored gelatinous desserts. So pretty much all the weight I lost in the temple in Thailand came creeping back. But it was delicious.

Both countries, though, as polar opposite as they are, were amazing in their own ways. Singapore's botanical gardens highlighted a number of amazing plant species, especially orchids (which, of course, they created their own varieties of); Esther (who took the photography class with me at Cornell) and I enjoyed honing our macro shots on all the orchid varieties. The Philippines was a great place to jump around and soak up the last bit of my adventures in Asia, and the spa time we got at the end was the perfect treat after the craziness of traveling.

I'm now enjoying the beautiful weather and amazing food in Hawaii with my aunt & uncle before I head back to the States on July 2!

Applicant Must Leave the Kingdom

I was told that in the first 7 days after the meditation retreat in Chom Thong, I would feel the effects of the practice. And what a week it's been.

Instantly I was overwhelmed by the frenetic pace of the traffic just outside the temple. Motorcycles and drivers whizzing by in a country where pedestrians definitely don't have the right of way. Market stalls set up in the temple parking lot selling food and clothes and knock-off goods. A fair just opposite the small marketplace full of bumper cars and games. Life in the temple is certainly slower paced!

One of the skills I've been honing in Thailand is the ability to bargain, which seems to be one part disinterest and another part downplaying. The tuk-tuk drivers constantly over-bid the routes I came to know in Chiang Mai, and a mix of laughing at the price and suggesting I’d walk instead seemed to be enough to get the price down. But then again, I’d realize that I was getting a 100 baht ride for 80 baht, a savings of about 60 cents.

I remembered back to when I was reading Shantaram, when the author talks about negotiating in India, an time-consuming task that often results in heated arguments and severed ties, with little won in the end. Sure enough, sometimes paying extra – especially in a country where extra is not comparably much – has its benefits. The tuk-tuk drivers who overpriced rides to the train station were more patient when I took my time deciding on when I’d head down to Bangkok again, and were more likely to reveal that ubiquitous Thai smile. The travel agent who offered “special price for you” on the trip I took to the Chiang Rai province was the same one who called around when I asked how to get to Chom Thong.

And it was the travel agent, after a discussion of the overwhelming number of temples in Chiang Mai, who recommended visiting Wat U Mong. Built as a sanctuary for monks to study Buddhism, it is an other-worldly retreat just 4 km outside the city, covered by bamboo and dotted with small temples. The maddening traffic just outside the gates was hardly audible as I walked past moss-covered sculptures and bilingual signs claiming that “today is better than two tomorrows”.

Of course, as I found out, a fair amount of skepticism is also necessary. After meeting up in Bangkok, my friend Esther and I headed to the train station to get overnight tickets down southern Thailand. On arrival, we learned from the information desk that the 7:30 train was full and the 11:30 train would arrive at the transfer point too late to grab the morning bus to Phuket, where our plane leaving Thailand would take off. We were directed to a travel agent to get bus tickets that not only would be faster than the train, but would get us to Phuket more directly.

Night trains are bearable, with their fold-down beds and pillows, but sleeping in the “VIP” bus left a lot to be desired. While there was air-conditioning as promised, the fold-down seats hardly got to 45̊ and there were no blankets available. Sitting in the only space in front of the toilet were two buckets full of hand-washing water, making an already ungainly trip to the bathroom that much more difficult.

We arrived at the change-over point in Surat Thani at 5 am, and our bus finally arrived at 7 am. On our way through the city, we stopped at a travel agency, where we were told to wait for our bus to Phuket, arriving at 8:30. Confused, we talked to the agent, who said that, no, of course we wouldn’t be arriving in Phuket at 10 am, since it takes 5 hours to get there – only the direct bus from Bangkok reaches Phuket that early. There was a direct bus?

As the bus pulled in front, we were called into the office. Where would we like to be dropped off? They recommended staying outside of Phuket Town, preferring other areas of the island. We showed an interest in Karon, a small beach town on the Andaman Sea, and the travel agent types in her calculator: 400 baht. But isn’t it more cost-effective to get a bus or taxi to the smaller towns from Phuket Town? Oh, the buses don’t go that way anymore and the private taxis are even more expensive. Exhausted and fed-up, we paid and got on the bus.

Karon on the island of Phuket is a small beach town with little to do and little energy to do it because of the heat and humidity. This translated to a lot of walking on the beach but stopping partway to enjoy the shade, pausing for ice cream, and chatting over cool drinks. After the craziness of transportation, I wouldn't have had it any other way.

The night before leaving, we had the full Thai experience. First we got Thai massages, and my masseuse must've had a bad day because I ended up being twisted and cracked with great force. Afterward, we went to a popular local restaurant and ordered a "medium spicy" meal of a pad thai-like dish and green curry, which prompted us in the first few bites to order water and rice.

At this point, my extended visa in Thailand is expired, with a friendly stamp in my passport that says "APPLICANT MUST LEAVE THE KINGDOM NOT LATER THAN 15 JUN 2011". So onward to Singapore.

Vipassana Meditation at the Wat Phrathat Sri Chom Tong temple

4 am: Wake-up

In the early hours of the morning, the temple bells chime, the dogs howl along, and, gradually, the roosters pick up on the fragments of daylight. There is something sacred about doing the meditation practice in the morning, knowing that monks, nuns, fellow meditators, and even the 88-year-old enlightened head monk, Ajahn Tong, are all drowsily following the same rituals.

There are 8 moral precepts (rules of conduct) that each yogi agrees to in the opening ceremony, guiding behavior during the meditative period. My favorite, #8: “I undertake the precept to refrain from lying on high or luxurious sleeping beds.” Sure enough, the mattress on the floor was stiff and far from luxurious, but with 6 hours of sleep, I never had an issue with it.

One of the ideas behind the meditative experience is that there are a lot of things we grow dependent on, creating a need out of a want. Alcohol, electronics, reading, and music, it is viewed, help distract us from what we don’t want to face (all those, too, were covered by the precepts); they help achieve a different state of mind that’s not the present moment and postpone the feelings that will inevitably surface. Vipassana meditation promotes awareness, so the temple proactively removes those "obstacles".

6 am: Breakfast

There’s nothing stranger than sitting in a cafeteria, everyone in all white slowly – mindfully – eating their food (talking is discouraged because it takes away from the present moment of food-eating). It’s the kind of situation where you’d expect Nurse Ratched to walk through, or perhaps Willow Smith.

Listed on the wall is the prayer for food. Like with all the prostrating and vows, I just went along with it, and there was always something that stuck out as well-put or fascinating. In the food prayer, there's a line that says “I will use this food to get rid of the old feeling [hunger] while avoiding a new feeling [overeating]”, amusingly-put but realistic way of looking at it. And so I enjoyed my morning soup one slow slurp at a time.

7 am: Meditation practice

Vipassana is essentially mindfulness meditation, a method of gaining insight about yourself and learning to be content in the present. It’s hard to remember a time when I’ve been fully present, always distracted by random memories or plans, emails or books. But the idea behind Vipassana is that all we really have is the here and now: the past contracts to biased impressions and fragments of experiences and the future is uncertain, so the only thing that’s real is our current state of mind and body.

Each of the three parts involves slowly repeating 3 times the thought, action, or description that comes to mind. For the walking part, it can be “standing, standing, standing” or “lifting, lifting, lifting”; similarly, it could be “hearing, hearing, hearing” or “anxious, anxious, anxious”. Later, I had to repeat intention, such as “intention to move” (3x) before walking. The sitting part is similar, but with more of a focus on the “rise, fall” of the breath.

The mind, it turns out, is rather fickle. Sometimes it focuses too much on one topic or feeling which leads, generally, to frustration. But more often than not, it just forgets. Within a 10-minute period, mine skipped from calm to anger to disappointment to resolve. Or sometimes a bird would start chirping, and since the practice promotes awareness, after naming “hearing”, I’d completely forget the topic I was so focused on. Go figure.

11 am: Lunch time

Despite the modest nature of nunhood, Thai Buddhist nuns still love their spice. Of the 3 lunch dishes, there was always one with a substantial kick. Sometimes it was obvious, like red pepper flakes. But sometimes that green bean turns out to be a mouse-shit chili (read: painful). One meal, all of the dishes were especially spicy – one of the nun-cooks must’ve been having a particularly bad day – and I tried in vain to hide my shock, only to hear a number of Thai yogis sniffling, too.

I couldn’t always decipher what I was eating, and it was probably for the better. I ate more eggplant and mushrooms than in my entire life – I generally avoid both, since eggplant usually turns out soggy and I have an irrational fear of mushrooms. Communal dining eradicated that fear, as well as my newer fear of rambutans (straight out of Monsters, Inc., I swear). I also got to try lotus seeds and cactus fruit, more of the Dr. Seuss-like plants that Thailand seems to be full of.

12 pm: Meditation practice

This was usually the worst practice of the day: trying to practice on a full stomach during 90-degree heat is a recipe for disaster. Usually it translated into me getting really flustered or nodding off.

3 pm: Small snack break

The precept I was originally the most concerned about was #6: “I undertake the precept to refrain from eating at the wrong time”, which essentially means after 12 pm. Anyone who’s gone afternoon shopping with me or has traveled with me can attest to the fact that I get insanely cranky without at least a snack to tide me over (I guess I got Grandpa Ben’s sugar-low gene).

Fortunately, the rule only applies to solid food. Soy milk and chocolate (allowed since it melts in your mouth) became my best friends.

6 pm: More meditation practice or the occasional distraction

I really enjoyed practicing in the meditation hall at this time for whatever reason. The red carpets faded to maroon as the sun went down, and there was always a calmer energy in the room, everyone’s enthusiasm fading to resolve.

Buddha Day falls once a week, a date marked on Thai calendars with a little Buddha head in the corner. As would be expected, it’s a big deal in the temple. Everyone gathers to one of the meditation halls and proceeds to repeat Pali verses after the monks, prostrating countless times in between. After listening to a monk give his speech, we all headed out to the main temple area, a bouquet of flowers, candles, and incense in hand.

The tradition goes that you walk around the temple three times, repeating a wish for someone. We circled in silence, deep in thought, our faces lit from the candles below, the golden temple from above. Setting the offering in front of the temple, we returned to the meditation hall to meditate en groupe, which somehow added to the already communal feeling of the evening.

Thai people can be overwhelmingly generous, donating significant portions of their money to the temple in hope of good karma. At the end of the ceremony, we were greeted by nuns serving warm soy milk, one of the many donations. Drinks in hand, we all walked back solemnly to our housing in the jasmine-scented night.

10 pm: Sleep (finally!)

Well, most nights. But the last two nights I was instructed to reduce my sleep. I was dreading the 4 hours of sleep the final night, but was resolved to get a final practice in. It was the strangest feeling that night, being so intensely present in the moment, aware of the crickets chirping outside while the cows mooed in triads, the placement of all my things in the room, the lightness of my steps, and my complete lack of anxiety. And right then, I was completely accepting of everything about myself and with how things are.

The most lasting concepts of Vipassana are anatta and anicha. The first describes how we can’t have complete control over everything, while anicha is the idea that everything changes – and trying to control change leads to dukkha, or suffering. Similar to the biblical idea of “this too shall change”, happiness, like sadness, is temporary. The best we can do is achieve contentedness, the “middle way”, as Buddhism teaches. So one good practice doesn’t ensure good ones to follow, but at least indicates the possibility.

As my teacher said, meditation doesn’t require a huge leap of faith, just one thoughtful step at a time. Intending to move, intending to move, intending to move.