Wat Tamwua

This weekend I finally realized my year-long dream of going on a meditation retreat. I am not sure if only a weekend can be considered a “retreat”, but it was all the time that I could spare. On Friday I packed a bag and headed to Mae Hong Son on a personal pilgrimage. Wat Tamwua was about an hour north of the city and an easy bus ride away. I had noticed it coming back from Pai and decided to check it out.

Wat Tamwua is a beautiful forest monestary set close enough to the road to be reachable but far enough away so that you are officially in the middle of nowhere. After getting dropped off I walked through a serene forest for about thirty minutes until I came to the place. Described in the Rough Guide as a “country club”, I don't think that the description is really fair. But I can see why it was described as such, for the place was really beautiful and seemed much nicer then simple monks should be allowed to enjoy. But it is a natural beauty that haunts the place, and one can hadly blame a monk for having good natural taste.

Right when I arrived, I met Miguel. Miguel is a Spaniard who came to spend a few days at Wat Tamwua and wound up spending more then ten days there, with no plans for leaving until his visa runs out. He and I became fast friends. His strong, friendly Spanish accent made me smile and quickly bite my tongue before I asked him if he came to the place seeking a six-fingered man.

The Monestary had a rule agaist eating after the noon hour, and I expected that this would extend to drinks, like Ramadan for Mulims. I did not-- I was brought to the main house where I met Laung Thai, the main monk, and Sanaa, a secondary Monk. Sanaa's name was really east for me to remember, Laung Thai told me with a laugh that he had his name for “a long time”, and that's how I remembered it. I had a coffee and was then shown to my room, or rather my mansion. Although there was plenty of room, I was put into a massive space with a private toilet, which was hardly what I was expecting. I was ready to move in permanently at that very moment.

The schedule was also a nice surprise. I had expected to be woken at 4, but instead we were allowed to sleep in until 7. We were immediately fed a light breakfast, after a ceremonial offering of food to the monks. Normally, monks will leave each morning with their begging bowls to collect alms-- a monk can not eat anything that is not given to him. We would gather with bowls of rice in a line and the monks would come and walk down the line as we would spoon rice into their bowls. They would say a prayer and we would head to the kitchen to eat.

There were four westerners-- Miguel and I, plus an Israeli women named Tamar and a dreadlocked Californian hippie named Adam. (When asked what country he was from he said “California”. Oh, how I don't miss America.) In addition, there was a group of women who came from Burma. None of them spoke English or even Thai, so their story I got third and forth hand from Miguel, who told me that they had slipped over the border and staying here rather then at a refugee camp. They were extremely sweet women, ranging from a little girl who looked about 12 to an older women whose teeth had long fallen out. These women would cook meals, wash, and when they were feeling generous they would let me help.

There were also two other monks whose name I did not catch. One was a little boy who was given the option of being a monk or a soldier. I felt that he chose correctly, but it's a hard decision for someone so young to make. He also was learning Thai and Miguel was teaching him enough English to greet the foreigners.

There were three guided meditations every day. In the morning we would go to the “Buddha Cave” which was a short hike up the nearby mountain, and it pictured here. There was a panorama of the Buddha's life complete with a statue of his enlightenment under the Bodhi tree. There we did standing and walking medications. In the afternoon we had guided meditations and personal instruction, and at night there was chanting and more meditation. I can't say that I had any miracles of enlightenment while I was there, but it was really relaxing. What was most interesting was learning about monastic life. Although I am not sure how authentic it was, it was probably as authentic as I will ever be able to see. I was grateful to the monks for opening their home to us and especially to me, a woman.

Back in Yemen, I used to complain at two of my Muslim male friends, Tamar and Derrik, about women covering. If they couldn't handle looking at women, I would tell them, then that was their problem and it was wrong to make women cover head to toe in black or spend their lives in the kitchen just because men can't control themselves. I suggested that their either wear veils over their own eyes or lock themselves up rather then doing this to the women.

In the monestary I discovered that this is exactly what the men did. Because they were worried that feelings of desire would arise, monks live away from society in groups of men and don't allow women to touch them, sit close to them, or allow themselves to be alone with a woman. Unlike my Yemeni friends, men would take the burden on themselves and women were allowed to frolic lustfully around Thailand, provided that they left the men in orange alone. I also discovered that this was just as annoying, if not more, then the alternative that I found in the Middle East.

Rather then being hidden, I was treated as a leper. And because this was their house I had to abide by their rules, which meant that many areas (the best areas) were off-limits to me after dusk. So while Miguel was able to hang out with the monks all night-- typing up translations for westerners and chilling with them in the meditation cave-- me and my feminine wiles were banished to my mansion to sulk. During the day I could talk with the monks but only if another man was present and only if I sat more then an arm's length away. If I wanted to give something to a monk (like a pen) I had to place it on the floor or give it to Miguel to hand to them. It was enough to make me think about digging out my scarf, veil, and balto just to sit among them as a big black meditating blob.

What I didn't understand is how the monks (one of which had meditated for three weeks without sleep and the other having meditated for ten hours a day for ten years) had strong enough minds to maintain mindfulness for days at a time and yet could not be with me for three hours after dark without losing control. (Especially ME, with my gray hair, sweaty, smelly clothes and bug-bitten legs.)

I am planning to go back soon. Next week I have to do a visa run (has it been a month already?) and I think that I will visit the week after. It was truly a home away from home. I just hope that I get a smaller room.