Sunday Bloody Sunday
It really encapsulates the frustration of a Sunday, doesn’t it? You wake up in the morning, you’ve got to read all the Sunday papers, the kids are running round, you’ve got to mow the lawn, wash the car, and you think "Sunday, bloody Sunday!"
I wake up early on Sunday morning in my now dry bed and look forward to lunch with my new doctor friend and a couple of the teachers. I head into town to meet them wearing a Scotland rugby jersey and feeling pretty good, despite the sore ankle.
She arrives late (I'm used to this with women) although she had a good excuse: one of her patients had gone into shock or something and he had to be rushed to the emergency room. I decide to let it go and don't call her a liar. Lunch is nice, I have some sort of spicy noodle thing with egg in it and rice and kimchi on the side (there is ALWAYS rice and kimchi on the side). It takes me quite a while to eat it as I am still pretty poor with the metal chop sticks (much more difficult than the wooden variety).
We head off from the restaurant and go to her car, she asks how my foot is and I lie saying that its OK because I'm really hard and saint and cool (remember that Barry?). After driving for 20 minutes we arrive at buddhist temple site that is just on the outskirts of town. Wandering around I forget about the ankle and am taken in by the sheer strangeness of this place. Everyone walking around seems very subdued and the whole area is steeped so much in history that I feel quite insignificant. I am taken into the main temple which has some monks in solemn prayer inside and I am asked if I would like to join them for a short while (not by the monks, but by my friend). I agree and spend the next 10 minutes genuflecting and asking that my family are safe and wishing well of others (as well as asking for some more selfish things).
After leaving the main temple we walk up some steps past a vast pile of roof slates covered in writing. Each one written by someone different and sending good wishes to others and their family, these are to be used when building the next temple in the complex. I am handed a slate (heavy as hell) and I set about writing my wishes. I won't bore you with them here.
We move on up some very old steps and blocking the sun at the top is a massive Buddha about 200ft tall made out of some green rock. I am asked to take a drink from a natural well that is supposed to give long life and happiness, at the same time my doctor friend telling me she is worried about parasites in the water so don't drink too much (Pamela, is it true that the more you know about what can go wrong, the more worried you are about it?). We walk on and I ponder whether it is the parasites that give you happiness and long life, it certainly makes more sense that way.
On the way back down to the car I look back up at the massive temples, seeing inside even from this distance the massive solid gold Buddha which takes up a large portion of the inside of the main temple. I think about it for a short time, and realise that I AM significant to the highest degree, and am annoyed at myself for the self doubt. You knows it!
posted by Alanowski @ 2:38 pm
3 Comments:
Funny that, because just the other day i happened to stumble across several Monks in solemn prayer at the foot of a massive 200ft Alanowski statue.
I shit you not.
Keithy
THAT I can believe.
The following is a message from David F. Porteous:
If you've ever noticed that the Buddha worshipped by hundreds of millions of people around the world looks a bit like me, there's a reason for it. I also am fat. It all makes sense now, doesn't it?
What I want to know is, do they have take-a-way European food in Korea like we have Asian food here? Can you buy traditional Scottish foods like sausages and mash, curry and chicken fried rice?
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