Monks and Drunks

It's funny, the connections one forms in life.  A chance meeting causes ripple effects through the cosmos, and thus I am trapped.

I did mention a while ago about having a favorite monk.  Well, he went AWOL from our regular walking route about 10 days ago, and I've been worried about him and very depressed ever since.  I've searched for him, scanning the faces of every saffron-robed figure I see (he doesn't wear the bright orange kind), with no joy.  The longer this goes on, the grumpier I get.  Do you have any idea how many monks there are in Bangkok?  Lots!  Wat Po is right next to a college for monks! 

He's just 5 feet tall, and weighs perhaps 70-75 pounds.  (That's 5.5 st to you Brits).  A strong wind would blow him away.  He's 70, or maybe a little older.  He has a cataract in his left eye.  He's adorable. 

Today, I saw him again, and it was as if someone switched a light on in my brain.  We were on a busy street, at the edge of a market really, but he was the only person I could see.  He blessed me, then we talked.  He told me that he had been worried about me because he hadn't seen me, and I told him that I had been worried about him too.  He was very happy to see me, as I was to see him.  He asked me for my address, because he wants to write to me when I go home.  I gave it to him.  I'm not allowed to touch a monk, being a girl, but I'd hug him (carefully) if I only could.  I don't know what it is, but I feel like he's related to me somehow, that we are family.

I know that all monks are the same, and all should be treated the same way.  When you give a gift to a monk, you are giving to all of them, and it's not wrong to gift the first monk you see.  To me, though, there is something special about this particular monk.

The oddest part about all this is what happened earlier this morning.  I left the hotel early, thinking I would stop for some food along the way and skip Ruesi Dutton, due to having a serious nose drippage problem.  Just as I turned down Phra Athit Road I was stopped by a couple of boys in their early 20's, who asked me for directions to Khao San Road.  I could tell the tall one was pretty drunk and the short one (the one that asked for help) was slightly more sober but was not processing the directions I was giving him, so I turned around and marched them to Khao San Road myself, deftly avoiding the tall one who was trying to cop a feel as we walked along.  I even helped them across Chakkraphong Road, rather than pointing them in the right direction and leaving them to cross that bad boy themselves.  When I got them to KSR I told them to go get some sleep and to please stop wandering around Bangkok off their faces drunk, then I ditched them.  They were younger than my daughter, and by far stupider.

I can't shake the strong feeling that had I not shown this random act of kindness to this pair of twats I would not have seen the monk.  I'm not just talking about being at the right place and time to put eyes on him, even though that is certainly a factor.  I just don't think I would have seen him, no matter where he was in relation to me.  I know this sounds a little surreal, and I'm not usually susceptible to such notions, but it feels...right.

All I can tell you for sure is that my blues are gone, and even though I have a nasty, dribbly cold I'm content.