The allure of monks.
One DVD, one CD, and two memory cards' worth of pictures later - I'm on the plane going home. Returning to life. Parts of me look forward to it. Other parts of me dread the very regularity and predictability of normal life that I simultaneously miss. My last week in China was taken up by Xiahe and Whitney. I learned a few things.
1) I need to learn Tibetan 2) I find both Tibetan and Mongolian men extraordinarily attractive 3) I don't like Tibetan food but 4) I do like Tibetan monks.
There's something about a man who has a higher calling in life than the pursuit of booty and/or money. We picknicked with 2 Tibetan monks, 1 Mongolian monk, and the Mongolian monk's sister by Dar Zhang Tso lake near Xiahe. It all happened rather casually. Whitney and I forgot to pack lunch and were trying to ask the Tibetan ticket taker where we could buy food. The Mongolian girl heard us and brought us over to their picnic site near the bushes, and there we hung out with her and the monks. Despite the tourist trappings of everything China, the chats with the 3 Labrang monks and the Mongolian princess were some of the coolest experiences I've had in China. Punctuated of course by my attraction to the Mongol monk. They asked about 9/11, I asked about their opinions on the Chinese government. They fed us, and we threw prayer papers with them, adding to the paper litter around the lake. The wind blowing the papers around are supposed to represent opportunity coming to you without your having to do anything. Harup, Noro, Buke, and Jia Tai were their names. Most of all, the encounter showed me that monks (or lamas as they're called) are still normal boys. They like their cell phones and mp3 players. They play soccer, they beat each other up, and they make fun of each other. And they feed 2 exhausted American girls who had passed out by the lake after the hike up, oblivious to the tufts of animal fur around them, the grazing cows, or their personal safety. And we'd hitchhiked to get there.
I'm ending this trip with 4 bathroom trips within a 1 hour span this morning in the hotel to puke, throwing up twice in the airplane bathroom, starving myself of food so I don't puke again, and carefully sipping on apple juice in an attempt to get some caloric content into me. I'm looking forward to home, if only because it means close proximity and immediate accessibility to a bathroom. My window seat in the airplane mocks me. Most memorable portions of my trip:
motorcycle riding in Yangshuo
boat ride/hike along the Li River
trekking with Marc in Xishuangbanna
RCEF
picnicking with monks at Xiahe
So my 2 months in China sums up roughly to that. I've learned not to follow boys or assume they know more than I do, as both times I've felt like my life was endangered was 1) in the ravine with Marc and 2) walking along the shoulder of Chinese highways in the dark with Jiang Yue in our search for Yinjialing village. Both times, it involved going against my better judgement and trusting a boys' "better" judgement. I think my language capability has improved and it's inspired in me a desire to come back and study Chinese for a year. But not a desire to travel in China again. To live here is okay. Preferably in rural western China. I'm surprisingly devoid of reflection on my return trip, but that may be because I'm concentrating so hard on suppressing my nausea. I'm ready to go home and have dreamt about my new Thinkpad waiting for me.
A brief review of the contents of my daypack and journal back pocket has revealed a plethora of business cards and email addresses from people I no longer remember meeting, a lot of boarding passes, and lists of important numbers.
As I start a new school year, here are a list of things I vow to do this year in an attempt to be a better person and keep a hold of the sense of identity I get when I'm travelling. For my improved mental health next year:
1) relearn guitar
2) dance again at Koresh
3) take still life art classes
4) bike to Dana's more often to see her and Tom
5) see more of Ken and Josh, if possible (difficult since I think Josh is somewhere in Turkey right now)
6) APAMSA mentoring for Chinatown kids. I have a weak spot for kids, even when they're being terribly horribly bad and making me tear my hair out.
These things are important to me, and for reasons known or unknown to me - they tend to balance me out and be good influences. Largely because I feel complete and whole when I'm doing those things or hanging out with those people. Must make concerted efforts to keep better grip on remains of self despite the overwhelming influence of med school. And with that - zai jian!
One DVD, one CD, and two memory cards' worth of pictures later - I'm on the plane going home. Returning to life. Parts of me look forward to it. Other parts of me dread the very regularity and predictability of normal life that I simultaneously miss. My last week in China was taken up by Xiahe and Whitney. I learned a few things.
1) I need to learn Tibetan 2) I find both Tibetan and Mongolian men extraordinarily attractive 3) I don't like Tibetan food but 4) I do like Tibetan monks.
There's something about a man who has a higher calling in life than the pursuit of booty and/or money. We picknicked with 2 Tibetan monks, 1 Mongolian monk, and the Mongolian monk's sister by Dar Zhang Tso lake near Xiahe. It all happened rather casually. Whitney and I forgot to pack lunch and were trying to ask the Tibetan ticket taker where we could buy food. The Mongolian girl heard us and brought us over to their picnic site near the bushes, and there we hung out with her and the monks. Despite the tourist trappings of everything China, the chats with the 3 Labrang monks and the Mongolian princess were some of the coolest experiences I've had in China. Punctuated of course by my attraction to the Mongol monk. They asked about 9/11, I asked about their opinions on the Chinese government. They fed us, and we threw prayer papers with them, adding to the paper litter around the lake. The wind blowing the papers around are supposed to represent opportunity coming to you without your having to do anything. Harup, Noro, Buke, and Jia Tai were their names. Most of all, the encounter showed me that monks (or lamas as they're called) are still normal boys. They like their cell phones and mp3 players. They play soccer, they beat each other up, and they make fun of each other. And they feed 2 exhausted American girls who had passed out by the lake after the hike up, oblivious to the tufts of animal fur around them, the grazing cows, or their personal safety. And we'd hitchhiked to get there.
I'm ending this trip with 4 bathroom trips within a 1 hour span this morning in the hotel to puke, throwing up twice in the airplane bathroom, starving myself of food so I don't puke again, and carefully sipping on apple juice in an attempt to get some caloric content into me. I'm looking forward to home, if only because it means close proximity and immediate accessibility to a bathroom. My window seat in the airplane mocks me. Most memorable portions of my trip:
motorcycle riding in Yangshuo
boat ride/hike along the Li River
trekking with Marc in Xishuangbanna
RCEF
picnicking with monks at Xiahe
So my 2 months in China sums up roughly to that. I've learned not to follow boys or assume they know more than I do, as both times I've felt like my life was endangered was 1) in the ravine with Marc and 2) walking along the shoulder of Chinese highways in the dark with Jiang Yue in our search for Yinjialing village. Both times, it involved going against my better judgement and trusting a boys' "better" judgement. I think my language capability has improved and it's inspired in me a desire to come back and study Chinese for a year. But not a desire to travel in China again. To live here is okay. Preferably in rural western China. I'm surprisingly devoid of reflection on my return trip, but that may be because I'm concentrating so hard on suppressing my nausea. I'm ready to go home and have dreamt about my new Thinkpad waiting for me.
A brief review of the contents of my daypack and journal back pocket has revealed a plethora of business cards and email addresses from people I no longer remember meeting, a lot of boarding passes, and lists of important numbers.
As I start a new school year, here are a list of things I vow to do this year in an attempt to be a better person and keep a hold of the sense of identity I get when I'm travelling. For my improved mental health next year:
1) relearn guitar
2) dance again at Koresh
3) take still life art classes
4) bike to Dana's more often to see her and Tom
5) see more of Ken and Josh, if possible (difficult since I think Josh is somewhere in Turkey right now)
6) APAMSA mentoring for Chinatown kids. I have a weak spot for kids, even when they're being terribly horribly bad and making me tear my hair out.
These things are important to me, and for reasons known or unknown to me - they tend to balance me out and be good influences. Largely because I feel complete and whole when I'm doing those things or hanging out with those people. Must make concerted efforts to keep better grip on remains of self despite the overwhelming influence of med school. And with that - zai jian!
posted by ink at
12:05 PM
1 Comments:
A most excellent adventure
By
Unknown, at 9:03 AM
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