Mai dee dtaa muan ee lee duhr (not finished with story, first thing that i can elaborate on)
4 days removed from my visit to Wat Pim'only remember the nickname' in Ban Phai, I hope I can still document my experience in detail. I took notes in a composition book during the time i was there and elaborated on them in the days following. Unfortunately, I forgot to retrieve the book when I flipped my motorcycle on wednesday, mistakenly joyriding through a pothole at top-speed (not really all that fast in my rented 100-CC not-mean looking red and white Suzuki).
I managed to divert the impact of the crash from my helmetless skull, deftly shielding the concrete from doing more serious damage with my ample thighs ( now deeply bruised and minimally mobile) and unfortunately destructable hand/forearm/elbow/foot. I was surprised to be able to walk away from the unwitnessed accident with relatively superficial injuries, remembering to collect my license plate as i stumbled to the side of the road to check where blood was coming from. I was overjoyed to find that the bike, already somewhat of an antique, still functioned, albeit with a few new quirks in the gearshift and ignition.
The book, which must be somewhere out near the road, is no big loss.
The particular circumstances of my monastic experience leads me to believe that some of the interactions and consultations that i witnessed within and without the monastery were highly unusual. In some cases, the deftly clouded explanations i received regarding these events can be regarded as 'shady', or suspiciously unholy behavior, but perhaps that is what one would expect from a 'disgraced?' popular politician turned monk.
As stated earlier, I was picked up from my apartment at 6:45 a.m. by a KKU professor's sister (who i later learned is enrolled as a freshman business english major at the age of 32). I do not understand why we left so early, and I still don't, because the trip to rural Ban Phai was no great distance. Maybe my flawed morning punctuality can be blamed for this confusion. Accompanying the sister was a friend who was never formally introduced (or if she was, i didn't notice in my sleep-deprived daze).
Hungry and tired, we stopped at the beginning of the trip to get breakfast at 7-11, consisting of a green syrup bun and a tiny styrafoam cup of coffee was packaged in an intensely sweetened (as most Thai drinks are) prepackaged teabag.
Some of the intense flavors favored by the thais, especially the penchant for fermented fish, assorted entrails, and drinks that can only be described as syrup with a splash of water that come in flavors ranging from coffee to pickled plum (tastes and has the consistency of duck sauce at a chinese restaurant), are too much for me to handle in excess, although i enjoy testing the brawn of my tastebuds when i get into chili eating contests with my local friends (i previously held the belief that isaan people had evolved to be invulnerable to the searing pain that sometimes endures for hours).
I managed to divert the impact of the crash from my helmetless skull, deftly shielding the concrete from doing more serious damage with my ample thighs ( now deeply bruised and minimally mobile) and unfortunately destructable hand/forearm/elbow/foot. I was surprised to be able to walk away from the unwitnessed accident with relatively superficial injuries, remembering to collect my license plate as i stumbled to the side of the road to check where blood was coming from. I was overjoyed to find that the bike, already somewhat of an antique, still functioned, albeit with a few new quirks in the gearshift and ignition.
The book, which must be somewhere out near the road, is no big loss.
The particular circumstances of my monastic experience leads me to believe that some of the interactions and consultations that i witnessed within and without the monastery were highly unusual. In some cases, the deftly clouded explanations i received regarding these events can be regarded as 'shady', or suspiciously unholy behavior, but perhaps that is what one would expect from a 'disgraced?' popular politician turned monk.
As stated earlier, I was picked up from my apartment at 6:45 a.m. by a KKU professor's sister (who i later learned is enrolled as a freshman business english major at the age of 32). I do not understand why we left so early, and I still don't, because the trip to rural Ban Phai was no great distance. Maybe my flawed morning punctuality can be blamed for this confusion. Accompanying the sister was a friend who was never formally introduced (or if she was, i didn't notice in my sleep-deprived daze).
Hungry and tired, we stopped at the beginning of the trip to get breakfast at 7-11, consisting of a green syrup bun and a tiny styrafoam cup of coffee was packaged in an intensely sweetened (as most Thai drinks are) prepackaged teabag.
Some of the intense flavors favored by the thais, especially the penchant for fermented fish, assorted entrails, and drinks that can only be described as syrup with a splash of water that come in flavors ranging from coffee to pickled plum (tastes and has the consistency of duck sauce at a chinese restaurant), are too much for me to handle in excess, although i enjoy testing the brawn of my tastebuds when i get into chili eating contests with my local friends (i previously held the belief that isaan people had evolved to be invulnerable to the searing pain that sometimes endures for hours).
posted by Max J. Karagnarok at 11:30 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home