Violence, calm and baldness in seven days (Ryan)

If the title doesn't give it away, this is probably going to be a reasonably entertaining and newsful post. Before I start this one, I feel obliged to fill you in with a few details about Koh Phi Phi and what you might say were some heroic actions on my part. Basically, I helped a crab off Isobel's head and I went to fetch a snorkel that Jenny dropped in the water. I'm being vague so as to let your imaginations run wild. Picture me playing a game of cat and mouse with a crab on a screaming girl's head (as opposed to quite tentatively poking it, at one point causing it to walk across her goggles, before finally grabbing the thing and disentangling it from her hair), and diving off our boat straight into dangerous crab-infested waters, straight to the bottom to get the rogue breathing tube (as opposed to twice coming up coughing and spluttering and only just managing to get it on the third attempt). As my mum always said, it's the taking part that counts.

So, onwards to Bangkok, skipping the unfortunate loss of mucho dosho on the way. That night, after recovering in the day the sleep we lost on the bus the night before, we tried out Khao San's two main clubs, Lava and Immortal. As ever, there was dancing, less drinking, due to overpricedness, and, surprisingly for myself, no sickness or hangover. Any of you who know me well will recognise a period this long, going out frequently, and not getting ill, as something of an achievement for me. I'm patting myself on the back on your behalf. Next day we went shopping in Khao San Road. Tonnes and tonnes of stalls selling a vast array of T-shirts, shorts, jewellery bits, belts (I could just, I suppose abbreviate to clothes), some weapons, CDs and DVDs. You name it, they seem to have it, although we have struggled to replenish our supplies of Immodium. Enough said. I myself bought a few new clothes, chucked some old ones, nothing too interesting. That night we went out clubbing in both of Khao San's two clubs, although quite lamely they both shut at two in the morning. Even so, it was all good. Sorted out our Visa for Laos the next day and went to try and sort out our stay at a temple. It turned out, when we got there, that we wouldn't be able to start the meditation course the very next day, as we wanted, because there was some kind of excursion going on. Very kindly, the monk we spoke to just invited us three along for the ride. It turned out we were headed to the Tiger Temple back up in Kanchanaburi, where our journey sort of began. That night, a couple of useful things sorted out in the day, which made a sort of pleasant change after weeks laying around on beaches, me and Tim took Rose and Amy to the bus station so they could get back to Ubon for a massive pig-out on all the Kanom (sweet things of all shapes and sizes, including the gorgeous banana pancakes we're coming to love) they could get their hands on. They'd given up for Lent, so you can understand the urge.

On the way home myself and dear Timothy decided that, if we got back and there was a barbers or salon or whatever open, we'd take the plunge and get our heads shaved. Shame Shaun wasn't there, but there simply wasn't room in the taxi. I think he's quite glad of that fact now. After being dropped off in completely the wrong place by our inept taxi driver, wandering down some random backstreet and then having to take a tuk-tuk to get back to Khao San, we found a hairdressers just outside our guesthouse, and are both, thus, bald. Apparently I look Hungarian, though I feel inclined to contend the point. I'd say I look more German. Either way, definitely not English. Tim just looks like a thug when he wears a hat, so perhaps I came off best. To cut a long story short, us two newly bald ones could find anyone at the guesthouse so we did what every responsible person of our age does: we got some grub and went clubbing again. All was well. We came home at half one to find Shaun rather worried about us, though this ended up being outweighed by his amusement at our new look, and possibly the fact that I had thrown my T-shirt away and was wearing a vest. I'm thinking mostly the haircuts, which, incidentally, only cost two quid (yep, they were that damn good) including a free shampoo of the three millimetres left over at the end. Bargain!

Moving on! We had to get to the temple, Wat Mahadhatu, for before six the next morning, which is when those crazy monks and nuns eat breakfast, so we got up at five. That was pretty strange, as less than a fortnight ago I was still out dancing like a crazy fool, and of course looking like on, at this time, let along being up and eating breakfast. Anyhow, we headed off to the Tiger Temple in good time. At the temple the basic idea is that they let the tigers roam pretty freely alongside the monks. It all started when the abbot took in one stray tiger and now they have a fair few, with idea being to train the cubs up so they can go back to the wild. As you do, we got our photos taken with the massive beasts. It's pretty easy to see, when you witness them up close, why Romatic poets and others had a bit of an obsession with them. You know that if you got one of their backs up you'd pretty much be history. Just solid muscle with a pretty fur coat, and not forgetting the massive teeth. We managed to come away from the encounter completely unscathed, aside from the fact that I stood in a puddle of what can only have been tiger piss. It was worth it, though. When the real escapade of the day began was when the three of us and one of the ladies we were with had already made our way back to the way out.

None of us really knew what was going on when Phra Suphat, the monk who had invited us on the trip and we assume the head monk at the temple we were at, was driven up on a bike and got off with his legs all bloodied and cut. It turned out that he'd been attacked by a stag! Not a tiger (thank Christ), but a stag! It had charged at him and after a brief tussle threw him to the floor and gored his leg, leaving a deep cut and this guy was no spring chicken. While he was on the floor, Holly, another American woman we met that day, ran down the hill towards the whole affair screaming and scared the poor animal off, probably scared Phra Suphat a bit as well by the sounds of it. We took the old boy to the hospital and got him patched up, all impressed at how strong he was. Most of the time he walked alone despite the nasty stag-wounds. And as I said, this guy is by no means young.

That adventure over, we went back to the temple, getting there in the late evening and pretty much just going to bed. The rooms were simple; a fan, a light, a mat for sleeping (monks aren't allowed anything luxurious in the way of furniture at all), a pillow (they are allowed those) and a towel rail (woo-hoo!). Next morning we got our clothes, a pair of pajamas to all intents and purposes, pale lilac pajamas. You know the kind of colour you get if you put something properly purple in the wash with whites. Yup, we looked that damn cool. What ensued was a day of meditation. Wake at five, breakfast at six, meditate seven til ten, eat at eleven, meditate one til four, rest, meditate six til eight, then rest and sleep. Rinse and repeat.

The day after we didn't exactly repeat that routine. The first half of the day was pretty much the same, but in the afternoon we went to a talk on Buddhism and learned about how, if we want peace and a happy life we have to have Mr Mindfulness, Mr Wisdom and Mr Concentration. To this hour I have no idea why the speaker referred to them all in this manner. Anyway, those guys are in the blue corner, but getting towelled down in the red corner are Mr Greed, Mr Delusion, Mr Craving, Mr Passion and Mr Anger. I know who I'd pick in a fight. After that somewhat enlightening hour hearing about happy families Thai style we moved our meditation to a house outside the main city, and it was some house. Really nice polished wood floors, co-ordinated furnishings and wood everywhere. Nice bathroom, too. A toilet we could sit on and that flushed! We met two American guys, Tim and Aaron, who were on the course with us. They're actually staying another five days or so at the house, so good luck to them. They live in Thailand so it's pretty cool that they're taking time to learn something cultural, outside of their walled American colony/community.

Worst thing about the whole affair, if there were that many bad bits, was that at the start we swore not to indulge in music and there was a lovely ebony upright piano sitting in the dining room and I never got to lay a finger on the bloody thing! That annoyed me intensely, but there are plenty more pianos in the sea, as Tim pointed out. At the house it was pretty much the same schedule as the temple. Meditation sitting and standing, eating, lying down and sleeping.

To fill you in on Vispassana meditation, the style we did, it is basically being 'mindful' all the time. When you walk, you are mindful all the time of your feet and you walk exceptionally slowly so as to be able to do so. While you walk you say to yourself 'Right-goes-thus','Left-goes-thus', until you reach a standing position, at which point you tell yourself three times that you are 'Standing' and then 'Intending to turn' and then, here's a surprise 'Turning', then 'Standing' again, 'Intending to walk' and after that back to good old fashioned 'Right-goes-thus''Left-goes-thus'. Sitting you have to focus on the rising and falling of your abdomen as you breathe and tell yourself as you notice it 'Rising-falling'. If you think anything at any point during either kind of meditation you say to yourself 'Thinking' three times and let the thought go. That's basically it, and that's been us for eight or nine hours a day the last few days. Eating is fun too. You have to do it 'mindfully', which means very slowly and closing your eyes whilst chewing, to appreciate the food fully and note all the tastes and all of your emotions. It takes ages to eat anything mindfully and I'm quite frankly looking forward to eating like a good old fashioned unmindful pig again in the near future. Also to do with mindfulness is talking. Apparently indulging in this activity reduces your mindfulness and is discouraged. I think Tipsuda, the nun who was with us all the time, gave up telling us not to talk eventually. While I'm giving you pretty much the full low-down on the Buddhist experience I might as well mention that there was a lot of chanting and sitting on the balls of your feet, much bowing and also much numbness whilst sitting down, which we note by saying 'Numbness' three times and it should go away. I actually find it just gets that numb you don't feel it's numb anymore, try to stand up, wobble momentarily and fall pretty much on your arse. Maybe that's just me.

Today we also had a different day. It was the birthday of the monk who got ravaged by the stag so the monks from the temple came to the house where we were and showed us how chanting is done properly. These guys were at it for ages. You think they've stopped, but the old one in the corner thinks of another good one to dredge up and off they all go again. Still, a heck of an experience and really nice meal with some delicious birthday cake. Halfway through I gave up being mindful and just gorged myself. Afterall, I'd finished all of the meditation I was going to do and I'd returned the Eight Precepts, which are the eight rules (including no music) that you commit yourself to following when you're ordained. After this experience I have begun to think I am pretty much an Atheist. Before I would always say, 'Oh yeah, I'd probably be Buddhist', but now I'm nowhere near so sure. It's like saying in an election, 'Oh yeah, I'll go Lib Dem, do the protest vote thing'. They you come to your senses. My religious views, sadly, don't have a place here so I'll keep them for another time, probably when I'm drunk and preferably whilst I'm ranting at someone who doesn't speak English and just nods at whatever I say.

So, here we are. Back in Bangkok and headed to Ubon in a few hours to meet Rose tomorrow morning. Maybe after the meditation it'll be easier to go twelve hours on a bus with no toilet.

'Desperate-Desperate-Desperate','Bursting-Bursting-Bursting','Wetness and Warmth-Wetness and Warmth-Wetness and Warmth','Shame-Shame-Shame'.

And with that thought, which was, by the way, me pissing my pants with my eyes shut whilst in a meditative state, I fondly bid thee all adieu.