day five

It seems I am finally over my jetlag, which has put me in a much better mood than I was in yesterday. Even in spite of the laundry mishap this morning—I took someone else’s uniform from the laundry room and had to rush back up and quickly strip and change, almost making me late for lineup—I have escaped this morning relatively unscathed. I think the adjustment is approaching its end, thank goodness. My body’s shock at the heat and humidity is subsiding, and my skin is still in panic mode but seems to be slowly calming down. My hair is loving the moisture and the break from the hot clutches of my straightener.

The dining hall experience at breakfast gets funnier every day. Two days ago, out first breakfast in the dining hall as opposed to the small separate room we’d had it in before, we were served faux cheeseburgers. The serving staff have made an exception for us and we are eating a “western style” menu. It is cute, and rather hilarious, to see what their interpretation of American food is.



Yesterday, we had breaded rings that tasted something like calamari and hot chocolate (in which they put cheerios that we had to fish out with our chopsticks, much to our amusement). And today, we had miniature faux hot dogs and French fries. I said nothing and ate diligently—I have no problem with French fries at 6:30 in the morning, though the very picky, selfish, bratty girl who I have come to hate sitting on my left did and gave me an incredulous look when I asked for more. Perhaps I shouldn’t speak ill of my breakfast buddy, but I think in this case it’s deserved. I caught her shocked look and shrugged.

Whatever, snotty Yale girl. You are no friend of mine if you turn down French fries.

I still can’t get over how much I love the rain here. It’s rain like I have never seen rain before. I think my positive association with it comes from the fact that it drives away the heat in a way that nothing else can. The noise is so calming, relaxing.

I think I take so much solace in the noise, whether ambient or melodic, because I haven’t listened to music since I’ve been here. I think of it the way Emma does in Bride Wars. (Yes, I am quoting it. Get over it. It’s a great movie.) “Running with iPods is for people who can’t stand running with their own thoughts.” As someone who can safely say that music is my life, I am surprised to find that I can so easily detach myself from it. My ears now, however, are drawn to other things. The breakfast chant, probably the most beautiful and melodic of the chants that we do, frequently gets stuck in my head.


Being here makes me desperately want to learn Chinese. It’s such an immensely complex language, more than I had ever imagined or appreciated before. For me, languages are like puzzles, and I crave to unlock the meaning of each word, each sound, each piece. Putting them together paints such a beautiful picture, and it is only accessible to those who possess that key to understanding them. Chinese intrigues me even more than most. The slight differences of stroke, the tiny inflections of pronunciation that can completely change the meaning of a word. It is a mysterious language, and even the monastics we meet here who translate sutras and consider themselves experts in Chinese often come to find that even their knowledge falls short.

The more you learn, the more you realize you don't really know anything at all.