Saturday, July 9, 2011
through the mud
Our little van bumped and swayed up the muddy, slippery road to Namo Buddha, through lush, green forests and past even greener rice fields. Prem, our trusty driver, truly a master of his vehicle, spun the wheel to the left, then sharply to the right, manoeuvring through the muck. At one point, half the passengers, including myself, were kindly asked to get out and start walking in order to lighten the weight of the van, which seemed content to sink deeper into the mud.
I have no idea how long the journey took— I refused to look at any time-telling device. Eventually, I found myself before the impressive, golden-roofed Thrangu Tashi Yangtse Monastery, perched atop a hill that anywhere else would be called a mountain. Clouds slithered over the dark crests of hills, lazily curling up among the rice paddies in the valley below. Somewhere, hidden beyond them, great mountains slept.