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.
*
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.
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.
*
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.
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