Buddhas, Bananas, and Bathrooms
- mmhaslett
- Feb 9
- 4 min read
As expected, I haven’t exactly “won” with blog posting. Time change, poor internet, and the sheer enormity of experiences, thoughts, aromas, tastes, sounds, etc., has led to repetition of the phrase “There is just really no way to describe this.” Four days in Thailand, followed by 8 in Cambodia, back in Thailand via Chiang Mai, and now in Laos. Each location has been unlike the next. Of course, this is part of the wild ride of discovery.
Bangkok, the most developed of our locations, yet still in an entirely different world infrastructurally. Like most things, if you haven’t studied history, or attempted to walk in someone else’s shoes, things don’t make sense. If, however, you open your arms to receive knowledge, you are a bringer of peace. You metamorphasize. You are no longer a tourist. You are a traveler.
In Bangkok, as in Laos, and parts of Cambodia, Buddha is everywhere. The temples, known as Wats, are a melange of elegant, extravant, kitchy, and sometimes simple. No matter the structure, solitude and quiet are at the heart of Buddhism. Of course making noise is what I do for a living, but I do love me some good silence. When approaching a Wat, you remove your shoes and hat, and walk in to a room that has a large center space for meditation. Believers approach the Buddha. Their weathered hands carry dyed-orange flowers in offering, and they supplicate fully on the ground. Legs crossed, they put their hands to their heads and heart and bow all of the way to the floor, and repeat the action three times. Some sit for seconds, some for much longer. None use a neighbor or a hand to the floor to help them stand afterward. They use their strength. All ages, young and very, very old go all of the way to the ground. While Buddha teaches the 7 layers of enlightenmight, Buddha also teaches that to live is to suffer. I cannot help but to think that Buddha is also thinking about suffering when entering the Temple.
Bangkok, like Rome, is full of the grandest of temples to honor generations of holy people who have led their religion. The Wats are stunning. Indescribable, really. Covered in gold, mirrors, gems (precious and not), ceramics, paintings, and thousands of years of history. And then there are the monks, who take vows of poverty, eat only two meals a day, and are at the mercy of those who give alms. Monks make their morning pilgrimages, going to local business, neighbors, etc. and receive food, sometimes in exchange for a prayer. I like the idea. I can take all of the help I can get, so if a monk were to approach me for food, I’d gladly barter for prayers. I can always make more food (what a gift), but I wish I had more people who prayed for me.
Bathrooms. Now, this was a new one for me, and it took a little while to figure out. As I stated, the infrastructure is on another level here. Southeast Asia, I love you, but you need to figure out waste management. Seriously, this is one of those modern conveniences you’ll love, once you get used to it.
So, here’s the deal. I’ve dealt with squatty potties before. It’s fine. However, they have been (forgive the pun) in passing. Our hotels have had western toities, so that’s all good, but “as with all of Southeast Asia” you put toilet paper in the garbage can. Like. ALL. Toilet paper. This is because the septic system, pipes, water treatment, just cannot handle the paper. Mamma just has not liked this. But about five days ago, JB said “I think I’ve figured out what the hose is for?” Yes, there are hoses in every bathroom. I’ve seen signs: Don’t take a shower, don’t wash your feet, but never a sign as to what you are supposed to do. And then JB explained the obvious. You use the hose to wash…um…the places…BEFORE you use the toilet paper, and then you put the, basically clean, toilet paper in the garbage can. LIGHT BULB. I felt so dumb and so relieved (ahem)! And then I tried to use the hose. I was all proud of myself, got the hose ready, and released the trigger. That thing shot cold water all over the place, in the shower, the toilet, all over me, etc. I squealed with shock and embarrassment, and then roared in laughter. I’m still a work in process, and I giggle in the public bathrooms; but I’m a lot happier with the process.
In Bangkok, we nourished our love of smoothies. JB has been obsessed with banana shakes, and I with mango smoothies. They are everywhere. And what a gift. The fruit is ripe and gorgeous. Dragon fruit, which has zero flavor in the states, is mild and bright red here. Mangos, oranges, and bananas are cheap and sold in abundance, and we take a moment everyday to enjoy the bounty. For it is bounty. Food is spicy and flavorful. Every part of the fruit, vegetable, or animal is used, and nothing is wasted. We are lucky to have meals with rice and noodles, and an endless source of food that we cannot pronounce, nor do we want to know what it is.
What we know is that Bangkok was good to us, but our real reason for choosing Bangkok was the airport. It was a gateway to the real reason we came: Cambodia. After four days we were off to Cambodia, and what a different world it was. Better told next time, and not in the same post as Bangkok, politically or culturally.
Good night.
M