Comparison of Buddhism and Islam

The longer I stay in Thailand, the more I learn about Buddhism, the more shocked I am to find such close comparisons between Buddhism and Islam.

To begin with, when I was back at University I spoke to a professor of Sufi Islam. He told me that the Prophet Muhammad was looked up to as a man who had attained spiritual greatness. 'Like the Buddha', I said. He had answered that he had never before made that comparison, which I was very shocked by since he said that before becoming a Muslim he had been greatly interested in Buddhism.

During my retreat the monk told us that we had to step with our right feet first when doing sitting meditation, and put the right hand over the left on when doing sitting meditation - just-like-Islam! He gave us a vague explanation that it had something to do with the left and right brain co-ordination but I was not completely convinced.

Moderation of food is very important in Buddhism. Monks don't eat after 12 and they should eat only to nourish their bodies, nothing more. Lay people are also encouraged to adopt this controlled approach to eating.

In Islam the Prophet Muhammad said that people should eat until they fill a third of their stomach with food, another third with water and leave the final third for air. Ramadan is also a holy month in Islam where Muslims fast during daylight hours, to remind them, amongst other things, of the need to eat only as much as you need to sustain yourself, and not over-indulge (although Ramadan these days is definitely more about over-indulgence than restraint with many Muslims flipping their days round so that they sleep during the day - the fasting hours- then feast at sunset - definitely not healthy!).

In Islam, during prayer, Muslims prostrate until their heads touch down onto the floor, to show the utmost respect for God. They do that in Buddhism as well. They both also use the lunar calendar to chart their religious holidays.

Of course there are also differences. The ideal Buddhist diet is vegetarian, however Muslims have to kill a sheep or a goat during their major festival Eid-el-Adha (Festival of sacrifice, which symbolises how out of his love fro God, Abraham was prepared to sacrifice his only and hard-begotten son).

Buddhist temples are adorned with statues and images of the Buddha and other highly spiritually-developed people, whereas Islam forbids images and statues in its mosques so that no claims to pagan/idol worship can be made.

In general men and women in Buddhism are treated equally, however nuns are definitely inferior to monks. One rule to be a nun is that 'if a nun has been ordained for even 100 years she must bow to a monk who has been ordained for even a day'.

Beginning of the rains retreat in Thailand

I didn't have many plans for today. All I wanted to do was go to a temple and meditate for most of the day, to get back into the meditation mind set.

I woke up early (the monk said it was best for health and retaining a certain bodily energy, to wake up before the sun rose). I had intended to wake up at 5am but instead woke at 4.30am. I had a shower then went up to the roof of the hostel. I practiced walking meditation for half an hour until the sun came up, then practiced sitting meditation for just over half an hour.

I went down to have the hostel's breakfast of porridge topped with bananas, then I headed out to the temples.

I caught the usual bus that I take to get me to the 'centre' of the city, or at least the centre for foreigners. But for some reason I got off 4 stops too early. I saw that I was near a temple, not the one I had been shooting for, but a temple nonetheless, so in I went.

I sat on the plush red carpet in the half-lotus position, closed my eyes and began to meditate. I found it very easy to concentrate on my breath, but to my dismay I was startled by noises all around me. I watched as people came into the temple and put money in the donation box. Others put paper money through a wooden skewer-type thing and pushed it into what vaguely resembled a Christmas tree.

Then the monks came in and began chanting. I recognised the chanting from my meditation retreat so I could have joined in, but I prefered to play the ignorant foreigner instead, and save me breath. After chanting was over, one of the senior monks sat on a high chair facing the lay people (us/non-monks). He held up a large fan over his face, with the image of the Buddha, whilst he recited words in Pali - the original language that the Buddhist teachings were recorded in. It took me a while to figure it out, but I guess its as if the monk becomes the Buddha for the time he covers his face with the mask.

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I walked the distance I would have ordinarily covered on the bus, and went to the temple that I had most often frequented. Inside it was teeming with people. I was so confused (I hadn't yet learnt that this was the day before the Rains Retreat).

As an outsider some of the rituals were so difficult to understand. In one corner of the temple forecourt, people were putting some kind of yellow oil into their bowls then forming a queue, whilst simultaneously holding the bowls high above their heads. They were queuing up behind a long metal column and one by one they poured the oil down the column.

Another ritual involved people taking large silver bowls filled with rice, then spooning the rice into different silver bowls, around a table. In another area, people were buying gifts for the monks. These were large bundles of toothpaste, fizzy drinks, shower gel, umbrellas, biscuits - basic amenities that the monks would use. The people would then offer these gifts to the monks in exchange for blessings from them.

Inside, the temple was full to brimming. I tried to find a seat and when I sat in what looked like a vacant space, I was quickly ushered out by an angry Thai man. People were waiting their turn to sit at the feet of an elderly monk to receive his blessings. The chanting I had witnessed in the first temple was being continued here.

After a while of standing, I decided to move on. I'd heard that there was another temple close-by which gave meditation instruction to foreigners, so I decided to check it out.

To get to the centre, I had to cross a very busy road that was made up of many fast-moving lanes of traffic. Along with me were 2 or 3 Thai people and a few Japanese tourists. We were all looking helplessly at the speeding cars and at each other for at least 5 minutes. In the end, I'd had enough. Using my Cairo-acquired road crossing expertise, I strutted out past all of the other road-crossing wannabes and confidently observed the passing cars. I saw a potential opportunity, and I went for it. The others were hesitant, but in the corner of my eye I saw that they were running after my lead. We got to the middle island, and I felt that they were now watching me, instead of the passing cars. Their road-crossing, slightly suicidal, chaperone. Bang. Next section done, my 'friends' following me.  Finally, the last section of road had been traversed. We made it. Thank you Egypt!

I reached the temple I had been seeking. Inside were a group of awkward-looking foreigners. I side stepped them and headed for the masses of Thai people in the temple forecourt. They were making queue after queue for...food! So much food, and it was all free. I wasn't hungry so I contented myself with watching the hungry Thai people. It's actually really nice to watch people's facial reactions to food and eating, without tainting it with your own desire for the food.

My quiet observing didn't last long. Kind Thai people one after another brought me all manner of food. I was overwhelmed by their kindness and generosity.

A closer look into Thai culture

I took the night train from Chiang Mai to Bangkok this morning. It took 15 hours but I was asleep most of the time.

For the first 3 hours I had an entire berth to myself - four beds. I was so confused because the rest of the train was jam-packed. After having left the silent retreat in the morning I was quite keen to speak to people, but the powers that be seemed to want me to stay on my own a little longer.

We pulled into a small station and a large family of travellers were waiting there. I sensed my period of isolation was over. I was right.

I stared out of the window, now wishing I can remain in isolation, afraid of the awkward social situation that may present itself, when one of the family slid the cabin door across. Damn!

In walked in a very good-looking, and physically fit couple. Their four children had already installed themselves in the next cabin along. It turned out they were from Belgium, but the Dutch-speaking part.

It was actually very easy to talk to them, and I found out that they had missed their train from Chiang Mai by 10 minutes. They then had to jump into a taxi to take them to a station one and a half hours away, before our train got there.

I had to ask them what was the secret to keeping such a close family. Their kids were all over the age of 14 and they got on so well. It turned out they were a 'reconstructed' family - both parents divorced then married each other and brought their children along with them. It was the first time I'd heard of that.

Their children kept coming up to our cabin and talking about some music and dancing that was going on in the train bar. I didn't quite understand and I didn't let this information penetrate deep into my sub-conscious but sooner or later I was compelled to discover what they were talking about. I walked through the train kitchen and reached the bar. There sure enough, were a group of middle-aged foreigners dancing to that song that repeats the name 'Barbara Streisand'. It was the funniest thing ever.

When we got to Bangkok I went in search of something to eat. There was a really cheap food stall just outside, so I sat down and ordered a bowlful of congee. I had this once in England, and they had called it porridge. But here, after I asked a French woman about something else on the menu, she turned her attention to congee and described it in a much less appetizing manner.

'It's the boiled off bits of rice that they scrape into a bowl'. Nice. But that's what my heart yearned for, so that's what I had. I swear all I eat here is rice. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. I eat very few vegetables and no meat, so my diet really does consist of rice and water.

At 8am a line of police officers formed across the width of the waiting area. Then, the national anthem came on and everyone had to stand up and look in the direction of a large portrait of the king. The family from Belgium had gone on a trek in Chiang Mai and their guide had told them how much the king was beloved by Thai people. His successor (his son) however, was not so well-loved, and since the king is currently living in a hospital, the succession may happen fairly soon.

On my taxi ride away from the train station I saw for the first time monks receiving alms from market vendors. I couldn't believe it when I saw the market vendors prostrating themselves on the road in front of the monks' feet. They had large saffron-coloured bowls that they were filling up with food, one that I saw next to my teacher as he gave his many talks to us. Remembering him, even though it had been less than 24 hours since I'd seen him brought pangs of anger, sadness and confusion to my mind. His apparent lack of sensitivity to my questions still hurt me.

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Later in the day, I went to the famous backpacker's street, 'Khao san road' to get myself some personalised bracelets to remind me about the key points I'd learnt from my meditation retreat, whenever I looked down at my wrist.

As they made the bracelets I went into the nearby temple and caught up on my meditation. It was incredible, because I hadn't meditated for the whole day I was grouchy and angry at everything. After half an hour in the temple, I walked out as if I'd had the best shower of my life.

Later as I walked to the bus stop I decided to take a look at a Chinese supermarket. I don't know what drew me to this strange shop that I wouldn't usually frequent, but what I found at the back of the shop was a number of tables and chairs - a restaurant. But that wasn't the interesting part. This restaurant in this supermarket had a karaoke! The Thai man who was singing was the sweetest thing I've ever seen.

Meditation in a temple

I have just returned to terra firma after one week of meditation. My daily routine during this week involved getting up at 5am to go to a Dhamma (Buddhist teaching) talk at 5.30am. After that we had breakfast at 7am (but I'm sure most of the meditators there were shocked to find it wasn't the breakfast they were accoustomed to - a plateful of rice of pasta was our usual fare). We had 4 hours until lunch at 11am, in which you were supposed to practice meditation. Lunch was our last meal of the day. We were not allowed to eat after midday. At 1pm we had to report to the teacher and finally at 6pm we had group chanting.

The gap between the report at 1pm and the chanting at 6pm was the killer. Often I would have happily meditated in the 4 hour gap between breakfast and lunch, then again between lunch and the report. But the five hours between the report and chanting were the longest five hours I could have imagined. Some days it was better than others. I got into the meditation and the time went quickly. But the days when I couldn't get into the meditation...

You see, we were not allowed to read, write, listen to music or talk. At times of boredom at home I would usually turn to food. Nope. No food allowed after 12. There was only so much concentration left in me to meditate and once that concentration had been used up there was little to occupy myself. Fortunately I took to walking around the temple grounds and observing all the wildlife there. I found that the longer I looked at a line of ants of a colony of termites, the more I understood and learnt about the world. I started to think of myself as an ant in a huge ant colony and this thought was strangely liberating. Most of my life I'd been thinking only I had my problems, that they were somehow unique to me, but in fact, millions of people share my problems. I'm not alone.

The Meditation

The concept of the ego is also known as the 'false self'. It is the part of us created by society and it feeds on approval from others, judging things and controlling things. As most people on this planet, my ego was very strong at the start of the retreat. I was quick to judge the teach as incompetent. His English was below standard, the report was more of a lecture than the 2-way conversation I had expected, and I didn't like the meditation technique he prescribed.

His technique included sitting, walking and lying meditation. When sitting, the meditator would silently say, 'rising', 'falling', (as their breath rose and fell), then 'sitting' (at which point they would concentrate on the contact they made with the cushion beneath them).

When walking, the meditator would walk very slowly focussing on lifting the left heel, lifting the left toes, placing the left toes on the floor then placing the left heel on the floor. Then repeat with the right foot.

When lying, the meditator would put their hands on their stomach and silently say, 'rising', 'falling', (for their breath), 'lying' (and become aware of the contact their entire body made with the ground/bed beneath them).

I had been meditating for almost a year, and I really started at University. I had my own technique that I had learnt from University and I persistently stuck to it. I would pretend to take in what the teacher told me during the report, but then go away and do my own thing. My ego had judged his method as inferior.

Let me paint a picture of the job this teacher of ours has on his hand. He is a monk. I don't know how old because monks who have been meditating for many years are often deceivingly older than they look. The deep breathing and lower stress levels from meditation help keep them healthier. But at this centre (in case you'd like to research it, the temple is in Doi Suthep; www.fivethousandyears.org) people can come and go any day they wish. This monk therefore is constantly welcoming and bidding farewell to meditators everyday. The centre can house 40 meditators. He is a busy man.

I had brought my idea of Western teaching methods to the centre. When I went to report I expected we would have a deep, meaningful discussion about my meditation experience and other questions on Buddhism. I was shocked by my first report when he just talked at me and expected me to keep quiet and listen. When I tried to speak he made it very clear that the 'report' was over and I should leave.

I was angry and frustrated. I tried to calm myself down by thinking how many people he had to go through, but in my opinion I would rather not have reported at all, than be talked at so impersonally, especially with something so personal as meditation.

The next report I decided to try a different tack. Before he had the chance to open his mouth, I blurted out, 'I'm very happy with the technique, I'm going to just practice it more, but can i ask you about....' He seemed quite startled but brushed my question off to the side and proceeded to tell me the next step of the meditation technique. He was just saying the same thing to everyone and at this point I had decided to stop listening. I tried to interrupt him but this agitated him.

The next report I asked a question about the technique which he had assumed was clear during the previous report. 'You don't listen' he said to me. Anger, welled up inside me.

The next report I didn't attend. (I'll explain what I learnt from this towards the end of the entry).

Emotions

Someone is dieting. They tell everyone around them not to let them eat chocolate or cake. But when there is cake or chocolate in front of them they can't help themselves. Why? The monk told us that this is because people are slaves to their emotions. The dieter sees the cake and knows that whilst they are eating that they will be happy. Usually the dieter is not happy before they have eaten it. But the happiness lasts only as long as the time it takes to eat the cake. The what follows are feelings of sadness, anger etc. etc.

The monk told us that we look for happiness outside of us all the time. A friend, family member, new car, new clothes, food.... But this happiness, he said, was always temporary. It always depends on something else to make you happy. Real, happiness comes from inside of you, and it is generated by meditation.

He likened happiness with energy. When we reach for something that we think will make us happy, like cake, we are taking energy from the cake. Meditation on the other hand, allows us to generate this energy ourselves, so we are not dependant on our next 'fix' of happiness from an outside source.

In a relationship, he said, problems usually arise because the people in the relationship are trying desperately to suck the 'energy'/happiness from the person who once used to make them feel so happy. Instead, he said, meditation means you don't have to take anyone else's energy from them.

I am one who derives a lot of my happiness from food. If I eat something that tastes good I want more and more and more. Hell with what my body needs for nourishment, I just want to eat because I want to be happy.

During one lunch at the centre, I made a breakthrough. We had the most delicious banana frittas for dessert and I took my allocated 2 pieces. Eating them was like being shot up to the moon and back, they made me feel so happy, so naturally I wanted to keep this feeling going and the only way to do that would be to take more. But, I stopped myself. The happiness I would get from eating another one would last a lot less time than the sadness and guilt I would feel at having been so greedy that I took more than my fair share. And with that I picked my plate up and went to wash it. On my way out I saw one last banana fritta. But I kept walking.

I have to generate my own happiness.

This was an important lesson for me. We are blind to our emotions. An emotion comes up and we think we have to obey it unquestioningly. But by meditating you realise that emotions are not you. You do not have to obey them, you can make them obey you.

When you meditate, you close your eyes and focus on your 'inner world'. The monk told us that much unhappiness in the world is a result of a huge imbalance between our outer and inner worlds. We do not know ourselves.

The technique he prescribed was during meditation, as you are concentrating on your breathing/ a certain part of your body, you should become aware of your thinking. When you become aware of this you repeat 'thinking, thinking, thinking', 'let it be', 'come back home'. Why home? Most of the time our minds are never 'at home', they are never in our bodies. Instead they travel time and space, they are in the past, future, on holiday, at work, at University, but rarely 'at home'.

When you feel an emotion surfacing, you repeat that emotion, for example 'sadness, sadness, sadness', or worry, anger, hate... Then you let it be and come back home.

It's hard at first. But the more you do it the faster you are able to realise that you are thinking and the faster you are able to spot your emotions. It's really powerful stuff.

Negative emotions

So what's wrong with fear, anger, hate... They're natural emotions right? We shouldn't bottle them up, we should express them. The thing is, these negative emotions are like poison. Inside of you, they wreak havoc. The monk said that he knew very old monks, in their nineties, who looked like they were in their forties and were as fit as a fiddle.

Meditation helps you keep a check on these negative emotions, and allows you to destroy them before they destroy you.

Buddhism has a remedy to these negative emotions which is called loving-kindness, or metta. Imagine you are feeling seething rage towards someone in the street. You notice this rage, and before you let it fester inside you, you wish loving-kindness to that person, 'May he be well, may he be happy, may he be free from suffering'. Immediately you begin to relax and the negative effects of your negative emotions begin to lessen.

The silence

Back to my meditation experience, let's talk about the silence. It was nice at first, not having to think of meaningless chitchat to fill the awkward silences, but soon I began to have really meaningful realisations that I was just dying to share with someone. Eventually, I snapped.

When I had got so angry with the teacher during the report, I asked a girl (who I had caught talking to someone else the previous day so I knew that she was not too strict about the silence) about her opinion of the reporting process. It felt so good to let some things out.

After that, a few words passed between me and other people, but on the last day I had an explosion of emotion and luckily had also located someone to share them with.

What ended up being the last day

The second to last day I didn't go to the report. I thought it would be better for my meditating not to deal with the anger I knew I would generate after being talked at by 'teacher'. But that day I had some strange experiences whilst mediating. I heard strange sounds and I wanted to ask the teacher about them. I was a little worried.

After chanting I tried to approach him, but as always he was busy. In a desperate attempt for attention, I said, 'I have to leave tomorrow'.

'OK, report at 8am tomorrow'.

'Maybe he doesn't understand', I thought. 'I'll try a different approach'.

'I have to stop meditating'. I thought surely this would be a cause for concern. Why, meditating was his very life. If one of his students has just said they were giving up surely he should talk to them.

'OK, up to you', he said very shortly, 'and tomorrow report on time'.

Outside there was a thunder storm (it's the rainy season), and I ran out to a girl I had spoken to previously. The emotions that had surfaced during meditation coupled with teacher's seemingly heartless answer to me, caused me to burst into tears. I thought he was mad at me for missing my report.

The kind girl broke her silence and comforted me. The tears kept coming, but eventually I began to see things more clearly. For the first time in my life I saw how immature I really was. How ignorant I was, really. I had thought that I knew everything I need to know. I had deemed the teacher to be incompetent and although it had seemed like I had shown him respect, in my mind I was showing him the worst disrespect imaginable. He didn't deserve that. He was just a hard-working monk, trying to teach as many people about meditation as possible.

I remembered how I had shed tears when the Thai girl who was in the room next to me had finished her retreat. We hadn't exchanged a single word but what had really touched my heart was how whenever she passed in front of me if I was sitting in front of my door, she would bow her head down as a sign of respect. She was clearly older than me, but this show of respect hit me in the heart harder than a lot of the sadness I'd felt before.

These two things came together. I realised that what I value most in life is respect. I complained in an earlier entry about the lack of respect of men in Egypt towards women. But in actual fact I do not respect people. Although my actions may appear respectful, inside is a malicious torrent of negativity aimed at many, many people in my life.

That was the greatest realisation I made during my stay. I know people may not be able to relate to what I mean exactly because I think everyone has a different definition and understanding of what respect is, but this little key unlocked so many of my troubles. By respecting people (in my mind) I will ultimately be respecting myself and hate-filled, anger-filled and malicious thoughts will slowly disappear.

After this realisation, I was ready to leave. It felt right.

Friends

So, the place where I was most likely to make friends - this meditation centre - was the place where I was not allowed to speak. Fate though, allowed me to cross paths with a few people at certain times, which forced us to speak and this resulted in an exchange of e-mail addresses. Although we weren't able to find out anything about each other during the retreat, maybe our relationships will develop via e-mail.

Mindful Farm

I got to Chiang Mai, in Northern China, at 11pm. I had been on the train for 14 hours and I was happy to put my feet on solid ground once more.

I thought it would be a good idea to walk to the hotel. This was foolish for many reasons. Number 1: It was dark. Number 2: I had never been to this city before. Number 3: I did not know where I was going.

And so I began walking in the dark. I saw rats scurrying into the sewers under the pavement but I kept my head high and continued to walk confidently. 'What a stupid idiot you are, I mean seriously? What are you doing you idiot?' Thoughts of this nature swirled round and round my head. To be honest, I was being pretty stupid.

After 20 minutes of walking I still had no idea where I was so I flagged down a rickshaw and got on. He took me to my guesthouse (which looked exactly like a colourful prision) and charged me more than the rickshaws had asked for back at the train station. I was furious. My introduction to Chiang Mai was not a good one.

The day after I looked for the songtheaw which would take me to Mindful Farm. A songtheaw is a pick-up truck with a roof on top and its the main mode of public transport in Chiang Mai. I circled the place where they were supposed to be for a good hour before I found the right one. The driver told me to come back after an hour because he was picking up supplies for the village. It really bothered me how helpless I was because of my ignorance of the Thai language.

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The journey to the farm was horrible. The roads twisted and turned faster than I could blink and I had to sit outside on the step to avoid getting so sick. With me was a German and Japanese boy, both going to Mindful Farm. The German boy had spent 9 weeks there because he had loved it so much. He told me about a monastery close to Chiang Mai where he had spent 21 days in a silent retreat. And just like that, my second destination had been decided.

I spoke with the German boy mostly since the Japanese boy had a very limited grasp of English. It was refreshing to find someone who shared my enthusiasm about meditation and self-improvement.

Finally we got to the farm. We had to cross a very unstable bamboo bridge that creaked and groaned with every step we took, but finally we arrived.

I had no idea what to expect. After climbing a small hill we arrived to the sound of knocking and banging. A group of five volunteers were working on building a cement wall on one side of what I later learnt to be the meditation hall. There were 2 English volunteers, 2 Australian, 1 Czech, 1 Brazilian and 1 Canadian. A lot more than I had expected there to be. Naively I thought they were all as interested in meditation as I was, so I had assumed that I would get on with all of them like a house on fire. Although there was no real friction between the others and myself, I definitely did not feel the connection I had taken for granted that I would feel, purely based on the fact that these people had also ventured out to the middle of nowhere to work on a farm and meditate.

But it was interesting meeting English volunteers that were really active about self-improvement. Throughout my 15 years living in England, through school and University, I had met very few people who shared my passion for self-development. One of the volunteers had brought a small English dictionary along with them.

During my stay at the farm I built a mud-brick wall, planted some tamarind, chilli and eggplant, helped out in cooking, made soy milk and peanut butter and learnt a bit more about Buddhism. My favourite thing about the farm was the little baby girl - Nobara- daughter of the farm's owners. It's been so long since I saw and interacted with a baby and I found it fascinating watching her endless curiosity at life, her imitation of everyone around her and her boundless happiness. She is 19-months old but can not yet speak. We all wonder when she does speak, which languages she will know. Her Japanese mother speaks to her in Japanese and she is constantly hearing English around her. The Thai workers on the farm obviously speak Thai around her. One of the Russian volunteers who will have stayed at the farm for a total of 2 months speaks to her in Russian, and I spoke to her a little in Arabic. She's an incredibly intelligent girl, so we'll see what happens.



After a few days at the farm I was getting a little complacent. I'd heard rumours of a nearby farm called 'Happy Healing Home'. I wanted to visit it because I'd heard they do reiki there and I secretly thought of abandoning Mindful Farms - you know what they say, the grass is always greener!

Many days I'd think to myself, I want to see Happy Healing Home, but I'd never had enough determination to see the thought through. One day I was walking back to Mindful Farm from the local shop when a motorbike slowed up ahead of me.

'How many volunteers at Mindful Farm?', a Thai man in a vest with a shoulder-length pony tail and tattooed arms, said to me. We talked for a while and I found out that he was the owner of Happy Healing Home. On an impulse I asked him if I could see his farm and after a little hesitation (although I felt it was mock hesitation) he agreed.

I was quite terrified on the motorbike ride down to the farm because the road was very muddy, narrow and had many turns. I was contemplating what life would be like after I lost the use of my legs due to their being crushed under the weight of the motorcycle. Thankfully we made it back in one piece.

The first difference I noticed was that they had many chickens on the farm. Mindful Farm was vegetarian, so we didn't have any animals except a stray cat and dog. The second thing I noticed was how spaced out the first few volunteers I spoke to were. It seemed as though they had been smoking something or other. In Mindful Farm there is no smoking.  The owner took me into the main social area to introduce me to the rest of the volunteers. The third thing I noticed was how unbearably loud they all were. The social area appeared to be much smaller than the open plan area we had at Mindful Farm, and it had the effect of forcing those sitting in it to be very close to one another.

I knew it was not the right place for me. I sat for a good 10 minutes, smiling and pretending to enjoy the show their inflated egos were performing. After being pressured to sample some 'organic coffee' (which smelled so strong I had to seriously hold myself back from vomiting), which I declined countless times, I stood up and asked for the directions back to Mindful Farm. The owner looked offended that I wanted to leave so early, and there was some awkward tension but finally he let me go. I can not explain the elation I felt. I began to breathe easily again.

I couldn't shake the thought that I could have ended up at Happy Healing Home instead of Mindful Farm. That would have perfectly suited the pattern of my life so far. At school and University I was surrounded by loud, brash people who cared little for other cultures or ways of living that weren't there own. This had caused me to feel increasingly isolated and alien in England, which was one of the main reasons I fled as fast as I could.

I counted my blessings that I had found Mindful Farm instead, and for the rest of the day no one could wipe the smile from my face.

2 weeks in Thailand

I've been over 2 weeks in Thailand now. It feels like I have been here much longer. Finally the heavy weight I had been carrying during my time at University has lifted, and I am able to breathe easily once more.

Thailand. The first thing I noticed was how much more women are respected here than they are in Egypt, the Middle East or even western countries. Call me old-fashioned but I was particularly shocked by the fact that women wear whatever length of trousers they want and walk down the streets without so much as a quick glance from the men on the street. After the time I've spent in Egypt and other middle eastern countries, this freedom afforded to women was one of the happiest things I have ever discovered.

The truth is I hadn't realised how much I had been affected by the disrespect I'd received from men, especially in the Middle East, until I came to Asia. The disrespect had left me with some sort of social anxiety which I had taken back with me to England. It was very uncomfortable walking down the street and being constantly worried that someone would run up behind me and attack me, or just hurl abuse at me for no reason.

I am happy to report that since being in Thailand I have not had the thoughts that had plagued me for many years of my life. I think I will probably stay in Asia until I have allowed these mental scars to completely heal, and only then will I leave Asia, the continent of respect, to more hostile climes.

I have thought a little about the origin of this respect in Thailand, and I think that a large part of it is tied up with Buddhism. Buddhist teachings are not dogmatic as other major religions are, they follow common sense and are simply designed to help people live the best life they can. It frustrates me in Egypt how men and women think if they dress in a certain way - cover their hair or grow a beard - then that makes them religious. It doesn't matter what sort of person they are just as long as they sport these tokens of religiosity. Then they go ahead and abuse their wives and children and harrass women in the streets.

It was my social anxiety along with how miserable I was at University, that led me to Buddhism. The main purpose of following Buddhist teachings is to free yourself from suffering. That's it. It's not to please some divine creation that may or may not exist, it is simply to alleviate our suffering in this life, here and now.

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When I arrived in Thailand, I spent a week in Bangkok. I was looking for a job teaching English and I thought that I would get a job in Thailand. Thailand immediately enticed me by the respect I saw between all people, as well as the beautiful smiles that beamed from any Thai person you passed. Although Bangkok is such a large city, the Thai people have not forgotten the cohesive power of the smile. Just one smile and both the smiler and the smilee's day has been improved immeasurably.

But although I was entranced by Thailand I didn't apply for a single job here. Instead, I applied to China. Why China? I think it was more of a subconcious decision but ultimately it was motivated by the better job prospects there. I had lost a lot of money through my indecision and erratic flight booking that I felt I needed a job that would give me a good income, and fast.

I couldn't believe how fast the process was. I sent my resumé and CELTA certificate to a company and on the same day they replied to arrange a skype interview. The day after I had a 10 minute interview and boom, I was hired. I think he was checking that I could speak English and that I was vaguely interested in the prospect of teaching, rather than exclusively using the job as an excuse to travel.

To work in China I needed a medical check. For this medical check I needed an X-ray, an ECG and blood tests. It was very comprehensive. And expensive.

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I didn't have any plans after Bangkok so I just stayed in my hostel. One day I was out walking around the city when I saw a girl looking at a map on the other side of the street. I was a little lost but nothing I couldn't have fixed myself, but something told me to talk to this girl. I asked her for directions, she looked at her map and it turned out we were heading in the same direction. What resulted was an instantaneous friendship and we spent the next few days wondering Bangkok together, riding boats and exchanging life stories and philosophies.

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One day in my hostel I overhead a loud American girl talking to 2 British girls (that I was working hard to avoid because they reminded me of the narrow-minded people I had so often encountered at University) about a farm she stayed in, in Northern Thailand. I quickly scribbled down what she said to them then headed up to my room. But something was telling me to talk to this girl. I didn't make it back to my room, instead I turned back round and sat next to her. She told me all about the farm (called Mindful Farm) and how she had enjoyed her stay there so much. My next destination had been decided.