Writers and Monks

So I just finished reading this book called Blue Like Jazz, which was a good book. I found it even more interesting at this point in time, though, because the author, Donald Miller, talks a lot in the book about being a writer. He talks about waking up around noon and stumbling into the kitchen to fry some eggs (the only thing he can afford because writers make so little money) after which he usually reads a book for a while before throwing it across the room, muttering about how it must just come so easily to that writer, and then feels bad and ashamed because he threw the author’s book across the room. He says that he then sits down and tries to write, but usually to no avail.

I found this all very amusing, because I’m starting to understand what he means. Being here as a journalist, I do a lot of waiting … a whole lot of waiting. And I do a lot of reading, and wishing that I had something to write about, and then wishing I could find the words to write it when I finally do have something to write about. I found a translator a few days ago, which is great. My translator is also sort of my cultural interpreter and feeler-outer. The problem is that, now, I have to rely completely on her … something I’ve never been good at.

“So, did you talk to so and so today,” I will say, seeing as my entire existence here focuses on whether I can set up new appointments and have interviews. “Oh, no, not today, but I can do it tomorrow.” “Sure, that’s fine,” I reply, knowing that I now have another 24 hours to burn. It’s good though … definitely the kind of down time I never find at school. So here’s some advice: If you ever find yourself desperately in need of time to read, write and think, most of the time staring at blank walls, stick yourself in the middle of a foreign country where you don’t speak the language. You’ll have lots of time to talk to yourself all of a sudden!

Chiang Mai is still great, though. I got up early yesterday morning to go observe something that happens on the northeast side of the city every day. This, apparently, is the fasting season for monks here in Thailand, and they won’t eat anything after noon or so. But what happens is that every morning, starting at about 5am, they take their little food pots and walk up and down a 1/2 mile stretch of road. People stop on the road and buy things from vendors set up just for this purpose, and give the monks food, after which the givers kneel and the monks chant a blessing for them. I walked up and down the road for a while, snapping a few photos. Lots of the monks were just kids of 12 or 13 years old. Almost all Buddhist boys here enter monkhood for about three months, and then often later return. This happens to be the time of year that is taking place.




So, I continue to learn a lot, and am just soaking in the culture here. There’s quite a lot of it to go around. I’ll try not to wait so long before my next post. We all know I have enough time to write!

P.S. > Another book I can recommend if any of you are looking for summer reading material: Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracey Kidder. This is an inspiring and heartbreaking book about a doctor who does the majority of his work in Haiti. It’s the kind of book that will push you to reevaluate the way you look at poverty and the way aid is distributed around the world.