Monk Mystique

LUANG PRABANG, Laos – Despite the tell-tale dress, those orange or red robes draped ever so perfectly, Buddhist monks stop catching your eye the more time you spend in Southeast Asia.

You grow accustom to them on the streets. You see them hailing a cab at a busy Bangkok intersection, checking their e-mail at an Internet cafe or chatting on their cell phones waiting for the bus.

But here in Luang Prabang their presence once again captivates. There’s mystique in this grand old village of a city that feels stopped in time. Gleaming gold-roofed wats pop up behind white walls on every street, and the light here bounces delicately without anytime of day lending harshness or glare.

Early each morning, just before the sun wakes up and as the city is basked in a silver glow, processions of monks leave their wats and walk the streets. They're greeted by locals sitting on blankets, waiting for them with rice and other goodies. It’s the collection of alms.

Seemingly endless orange robes slowly swish by and gold buckets clink with each offering. The smell of baking baguettes warms the air as they walk down main street. The monks appear to be lined up from tallest to shortest or oldest to youngest, but it’s the amount of time spent in monkhood that determines the order. The young novices at the back seem a little shy about the reverence offered along with the rice.

One morning I followed one procession from the main drag to the smaller streets on their route. I was silent save for the distinctive click of my Nikon. So I was startled when I heard “Good morning, Megan.” I had meet one of the monks the other afternoon. The 20-year-old had entreated me to come into his wat as he saw me walk by, and we spent the afternoon chatting. He and others like to practice their English with a native speaker, and I imagine, break up the typical afternoon with new entertainment. He peppered me with questions and told me about his life. The monks are up at 4 a.m. Many of them are from over the border in China and only go home once a year or so. Some chose this life and some were instructed by their family.

That morning as I followed along and watched the alms offering, he asked me asked me how much longer I was going to be in Luang Prabang. Sadly only another day or two, I replied. He said that I should stay and be their English teacher. I wish I had.

Tigers!

KANCHANABURI, Thailand - What a rush.

What an incredible rush, sitting with a tiger's head in my lap and then playing with a four-month-old cub. And I mean really playing with him. No bars, no restrictions. Just running around with this tiger like he was a labrador retriever.

These tigers are raised tame by monks at a large temple compound about two hours outside Bangkok (near the Bridge over River Kwai). For a reasonable donation, you can spend the afternoon with the majestic cats.

First you visit a canyon where the tigers, after a morning of play and a very large lunch, go to laze and snooze in the afternoon sun. Handlers lead you around to each cat and take photos of you petting them. It's very controlled and a bit touristy. But it's tigers! Huge, 440-lb. tigers!


Their fur is stiffer than a housecat's, but they're still soft and like to be nuzzled in the same places. For an extra donation, which I happily paid, you can sit with a tiger snuggled with his gigantic, heavy head in your lap. I stroked his chin and traced his stripes down his long body. The tigers are pretty sound sleepers. Had he not opened one eye and peered up at me, I would have sworn he was drugged. But he was just a fat, happy cat enjoying his siesta. Another cat slept not too far away with her four huge paws in the air.
Sitting on the cool canyon floor with the tigers is amazing but a little stilted as the handlers are pretty hands on. The real fun came with the cubs. Basically, the young ones were allowed to just run around as they pleased - as long as they left the compound's roaming boars and peacocks alone.

I was free to interact with the cubs however and how much as I liked. They have this low, purr-like growl and their powerful paws can easily knock you over if you're sitting a little off balance. The feel of a tiger's muzzle in your hand is amazing. I fed the cubs milk tablets, which they happily lapped up from my palm.

My favorite cub had the naughty sensibilities of Curious George. The colorful colors of the peacocks and roosters arrogantly stalking around were too much for this tiger to bear. It was facinating to watch him sneak away from his babysitter monk and steathily stalk the birds. When the monk would notice what the cub was up to, he'd run over and grab him by the tail. Then the monk would jokingly jump around the tiger, teasing him in the lovable way one does a toddler. At one point, the monk picked up the cub and threatened to toss him over a wall into the enclosure with the big cats. The cub scrambled up the monk's torso, over his head and down the other side, leaving the monk with a pretty good scratch.

The tigers seem so domestic, but instincts don't disappear just because some peaceful, saffron-robed men raised them. As the tigers were being led back to their enclosures after the afternoon tourist visits were over, one male decided to do a little grocery shopping on his way home. He took after a boar. About four handlers had to scramble to hold him back. The tiger relented, but he paused for a good while and looked hard at that boar, as if to say, "you would be dinner if I really wanted."