"On the Trail"

The Journals from the Road

Friday, July 6, 2001: A monk for an hour and 10,000 Buddhas! Shen's home near Denfeng - Longmen Shiku - White Horse Temple - Luoyang city, Henan province, China (24 kms by bike)

Tad here...

I woke up first at about 5:00am and remembered I was on the roof. I watched out of one sleepy eye as Xiang Ming and his wife got up and went downstairs. I watched a few couples hoeing their fields, already up and at 'em, and after weighing the options I decided to hit the snooze button on the concrete next to me. A bit before six Xiang Ming crushed my snooze button with his foot and told me it was time to get up so I dutifully packed up sleeping bag and mattress and followed him off the roof and down the stairs.

He got some water for me to wash in and soon his wife had prepared us all a large breakfast. We ate mia (corn porridge), and a green, leafy, salty, vinegar mix that gave flavor to the mia. We also had a sort of fried toast with this. Once they showed me that I could slurp away at the mia and didn't need to scoop it with my chopsticks I quickly downed the whole thing. As a side note, slurping here is very appropriate. Noodles are loudly slurped and when I decided to try it, just throw my bari-slurp into the chorus, I discovered why. When one slurps the air passing through the noodles cools them off just enough to enjoy without them burning your taste buds.

We the took pictures of the family and I promised to send them a copy. This is something I rarely do but they asked and I knew that they have few if any family photos so I made a special note to print out the pictures and send them to them.

Xiang Ming took me out to the highway after I said goodbye to his daughter and his wife. In a few minutes a bus going to Luoyang had stopped and Xiang was talking with the conductor. However, I am not sure if he was describing my wealth or telling her to give me a better price. He came back and told me 40 yuan, (5 dollars) which I figured was a bit steep for an hour ride but my options were to wait for another hour or take "the deal" and pay the quai (another name for yuan). I gave her a 50 quai bill and she gave me no change. I told her our deal was forty and she laughed and gave me 5 more, I laughed in both frustration and slight amusement at the exchange and then repeated myself. She handed me the last 5 and it was settled and I hopped on.

The ride to Luoyang was uneventful except that a magician-gambler-profiteer came on the bus with 3 metal pins and a string. He would do a little "wave the wands" trick and people would bet against each other as to which rod had the string on it. About all I can say for the deal is it made a lot of people mad. I asked one guy if he thought it was good or bad and he said "bu hao" which means not good. When the guy got off a number of the of gamblers got off at the next stop. I wonder if they were all involved in the con. Big, white no-speakum (that's me) said it looks like "a little game and a little thief" and others nearby seemed to agree.

When we got to Luoyang the conductor helped me put my panniers on my bike and we left each other on a friendly note.

I rode for about 100 feet to get away from the din of the station and found a clear spot to set my bike next to some breakfast stands. I had some fried bread and almond juice and read about the places to see nearby Luoyang. I was feeling a bit light headed so I just sat down for a while and pondered my navel.

Once I felt better and got a few directions from some locals I was off on Peacehorse One toward Longmen Shiku, the caves and grottos along the river that were home to thousands of Buddhist carvings.

At Longmen Shiku a teenage guard found his moment of valiant duty when he grabbed my handlebars as I was riding towards the entrance. No bikes beyond this point he shouted. His manner angered me but I complied with his wishes and rode back about a km to another guard station where they graciously watched my steed. On a positive point for that same teen guard, he told some overzealous hawkers to leave me alone after the 10th time I politely said I didn't want their goods.

The caves of Buddhas were impressive in number and in size and I will describe it more in the pictures.

After going to Longmen Shiku I stopped at a little restaurant for lunch and a nap and asked them if they could watch the bike. The ride out to Longmen Shiku was about 16 kms and it was one big urban-suburban strip so I thought I would take a bus to my next destination which was Baima Si (White Horse Temple). It turned out bike would have been quicker because the bus back was just one of three that finally got me there. But, once again, it is the journey along with the destination that is important. On the last bus I hopped on toward Baima Si I noticed two fellows in their 80s or 90s who both had smiles on their faces. They were wearing straw farming hats but the rest of their garb looked like off duty monk wear, loose and flowing and light brown. Then out of the blue one of them handed me a bead bracelet and motioned to me it was like his, which he had around his wrist. I thanked him. He asked me where I was going and I told him I was headed towards the temple. Then they both nodded and said that was their home.

The other one gave me a small plastic necklace and I put in on immediately, honored by the gift.

A few minutes after this beautiful experience I saw a tragic one. We came to a traffic accident...a couple rickshaws and a jeep were damaged. What was eery was the pairs of sandals lying around the scene as though the people had just disappeared out of them. There was water on the ground, either to clean up or leaking from the jeep. I couldn't tell which. I hope all involved are ok but I doubt each is. It makes me think about how quick things change, how many risks we take, how much we expect to go just right, and how small my everyday concerns are in comparison to these events...

I got off with the monks and they helped me find the entrance. We said goodbye there and parted ways and I paid some younger, not so smiley monks my admission fee.

Once in the temple I started to wander around. I felt a bit overwhelmed by the recent accident, being alone, and not being able to understand the place I was at and it being so significant (no English guide). I did know that Baima Si was the first Buddhist temple in China. Two representatives from the Han dynasty, in the first century, went on a search for Buddhist scriptures. They met two Indian monks in Afghanistan and brought back some scriptures and some statues on two white horses, hence the name White Horse Temple. (According to Lonelyplanet China Guidebook)

I decided that without a guide I would not worry about missing something and I would play a moment by moment game, following my curiosity of each moment without concern for the distance covered or sites seen. I first wandered over to a horse statue and took its picture and then wandered to what seemed like a dining hall for the monks. By the way, I saw about 80 monks here, and there were probably many more I did not see. Back to the dining hall....I stuck my head in and one of the monks came over and said I had to pay 3 yuan for food or I must go. I quickly turned around without thinking and left. I just wanted to see not eat but then I thought that 3 yuan was nothing to be able to sit down at the same table with these monks even if I wasn't hungry...and Frank knows I can always eat. (I miss that guy.) I gave the 3 yuan and they gave me two bowls, one to fill with veggies and a soupy rice and the other for noodles. The seats were all facing one direction and besides that consuming was serious business so there was little opportunity for talking. These guys slurped as loud as anyone here in China. Why would not the holy men loudly slurp up their noodles? So I slurped along and then washed my own bowland chopsticks, following the monks' routine, and thanked the fellows for the meal. I asked if I could take a picture but they rathered I did not.

I asked for some water and they filled my bottles out of their large, cooling cauldrons. Then, while I was communicating to one of the monks in Mandiberish and broken English a bell rang and all the monks started heading to a building. I asked if I could come and the fellow I was talking to said yes.

Before I knew it I was in the inner chambers with a bunch of real, sanctified, fully garbed Buddhist monks in the oldest Buddhist temple in China!!!

I became a monk for 40 minutes, bowing when they did and singing along with the chants...I added my own English words but kept the tune the same. I actually got into the rhythm of the beating drum. Then I slyly pretended I was a bit tired and got out my camera...a dilemma...shoot and risk their trust and our rapport or not shoot and not capture this moment for thousands to co-experience. It was tough but I choose an inconspicuous video that got the sound at least. After about 40 minutes they all headed out and walked around the garden, still singing, and I followed. I realized it was getting dark and time to get back to my bike, still at the lunch spot so I pealed out of the line as they headed back into the temple for another prayer session. I was flying high! It felt like my "moment by moment" method had led to the perfect experience for me!

That night a bus and taxi just barely got me back to the lunch restaurant. I had dinner there and then they helped me find a hotel! The dirty, slimy shower was wet at least so I just closed my eyes and enjoyed!

-Why would not the holy men loudly slurp up their noodles?

TAD

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