Over the Rice Fields and through the Woods

With Ajahn Bounxay, at 1:00 on Tuesday, after the ceremony, we went over the bridge from his town to his Wat. The bridge is about 200 yards long, 5 feet wide made of bamboo pipes covered with woven bamboo that has been washed out in places. Each year, during the heavy rains, the bridge is taken out by the swollen river. It is the only access the town has to the Wat and the Wat has to the town. Often, I am told, the monks are separated from contact with the village. Many plans have been developed over the years to build a proper bridge, but there is no money to make it happen. The monks at the Wat are often stranded during and after the monsoon season until the bridge can be repaired. The village all comes out to repair the bridge.

We stop at the Wat to pick up two monks who join us in the walk. We will be catching up with a group of novices, who have gone ahead and will meet us at the hot springs. We are prepared for a nice walk in the woods.

We began walking through the woods in a stand of towering bamboo. I have never been in a forest of this kind. As the soaring bamboo trunks wave in the wind, they made a distinctive crackling sound. It is beautiful in the bamboo forest.

We left the forest and forded a stream. The water was warm and the stones under foot were smooth and made a sturdy path. We climbed up onto a rice field and walked along the mud walls that divide the areas to be planted into distinct rectangles to be flooded as necessary or not. The walls are amazingly strong; they are handmade out of mud and there are miles upon miles of these wall throughout the village. I want to know more about rice farming. I know so little about the food that feeds much of the world. These fields are planted with sticky rice. In Laos, sticky rice is revered most of all.

We left the rice field and walked along a rock wall that divided the irrigation ditch on the right from a precipice on the left. Balance was everything here, and I kept my weight to the right so I didn't fall down the steep hill on my left. It began to make Ajahn Bounxay, Disty, and me very nervous, so we walked through the irrigation ditch. The ditch was filled with running water and amazingly true in its dimensions—about 3 feet wide and 8 inches deep, with a mostly silt bottom. My sandals, leather-thonged flip-flops, protected my feet from the occasional sharp stones. We walked along this way for 15 minutes or so, until we crossed another stream and climbed up and down rocks. It is difficult, but no impossible, climbing.

This hike reminded me of hiking in Maine, something we do often with our cousins and friends when we are at our house in Mt. Desert. In fact, there is so much about this trip that has reminded me of Maine: our boat picnic to a Wat on the other side of the Mekong in Luang Prabang; a supportive village filled with cousins and extended family; and this walk through the woods. But this walk was turning from a lovely walk into one that was quite arduous. We've had these hikes before: a walk sprinkled with fear that we don't really know where we're going and that we may never return. We talk as we walk about many things. It is outrageously beautiful. And though I am reminded of hikes in Maine, I realize I am in the jungles of Southeast Asia. That is not lost on me.

We met a small river that seemed impossible to ford and we stopped. One monk jumped across the rocks with ease, but he seemed to fly—like Peter Pan or the heroine in Crouching Tiger. There must have been wires under his robe. The rest of us decided it was too difficult to try, surely one of us would slip into the rushing stream. We found rocks to sit on, ready to abandon the goal of finding the novices and the hot springs. It's been invigorating. It was not too hot. On the opposite side of the stream is a small waterfall. There are surprisingly few signs of animals or birds. As we are sitting on the rocks, I noticed the bag of one of the monks who is with us. It is a black hanging back with "Pirates of the Caribbean" written on it in silver and a wide chain that is half punk/half Barbie. He and the other monk have been hopping along the walls, ever sure-footed, agile. They are both in their twenties, are fit, and are game for adventure.

Disty tried the river and decided we should try to cross. The monks found a bamboo pole, and we all jumped in and crossed the river by holding the pole that was steadied by the two young monks. We continued our hike, which was getting a bit more strenuous as the trail was getting narrower. The monks ahead used a stick to machete through the path. Ajahn Bounxay stopped and pulled a 3-inch leech from his foot. This now became the nature of the walk: walk a few yards and take a small 1-inch or less leech from your foot or from between your toes. These little leeches would attach themselves quickly. They were slippery and hard to pull off. Also, once pulled off, they would attach themselves to your hand. I found that I needed to remove them by using a rock to rub them off.

It didn't get much better for a while, maybe half an hour. We were, of course, a little concerned that we weren't going in the right direction. I saw what looked like a dog track, and I asked Ajahn Bounxay if the novices might have a dog. They did, and I knew we were heading in the right direction. The monks would call out in a distinctive holler, and I suddenly felt like I was hiking with the Boy Scouts. There were no answers to the calls for quite a while, then from the forest the dog appeared, and we knew we were close.

A short distance along the path and we came to an opening where there were a dozen young novices frolicking in the small hot spring. I jumped in and it felt good. I was surprised at the muddiness of the small pool—maybe 8 feet wide and 6 feet across—and the softness of the water and the pungent smell of sulfur. I stayed in for a while and then clambered out . Disty was not really prepared for swimming, as she was dressed in her new simple sinh that she had made in Luang Prabang. She pulled it up between her legs and waded around in the hot spring. It was nice to be rid of leeches.

The way back was more arduous than the way there. However, we had our troop of novices guiding us and helping us. I got stuck in the mud a couple of times and was lifted out, like some huge semi stuck in quicksand being extracted by powerful tow trucks. One of the monks handed me a walking stick, and that was a big help. About five minutes into the walk, my left flip-flop had its thong torn from the sole. I pushed the thong back through the hole and tied it to itself, but the shoe was almost worthless. We struggled back, and about half-way home I broke the other sandal and did the same thing to it. When we reached the irrigation ditches, I took off my sandals, but the sharp rocks cut into my feet, so I alternated between wearing them and carrying them.

When we got back to the rice field, the sandals had failed me entirely, so I sat down to see what could be done. The monks jumped into action and Ajahn Bouxay set about to repairing them with vines and sticks, and then the monk with the Pirate bag took out a very sharp knife and proceeded to repair them with a piece of a tire that he had found. Good as new.

After passing through the stand of bamboo, we took a slightly different path to the Wat than the way we came. We passed through an orange grove and walked by a small dilapidated open house in the woods. Mother of the house was brushing her teeth while the five children played around the house. They were the poorest people we have seen. Mother had nothing but a toothbrush, as far as we could see, and the five children.

We arrived at the Wat, five hours later, tired and dehydrated. We sat and had a few glasses of water and went back on our way to Phoumy and Kham's. As we got to the bridge, a farmer was leading his water buffalo down the path. Disty paused and took pictures, but I was too tired to stop. Normally, I would have wanted to be near the animals. I headed across the bridge. I heard a shout and looked back and Disty had almost fallen through, her walking stick going through a hole. She was safe, but we realized even more than before that the village needed a new bridge if anyone was going to safely walk between the village and the Wat.