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.