Frenchmen – Chapter 5

 [Frenchmen is a book written in 2015. It’s a story about desire, Buddhist theory and the ultimate results of death and rebirth.]

Frenchmen – Chapter 1 

Frenchmen – Chapter 2

Frenchmen – Chapter 3

Frenchmen – Chapter 4

 

Chapter 5

Fang

I found myself getting off the bus in Fang at Wat SriBoonRuang. My second choice.

Compared to temples I had just been to in Chiang Dao, Wat SriBoonRuang is much larger.

It looks a bit worn.

The main Ubosot, or chapel, is over two hundred years old . It is presently used for ordinations only. The main Wihan (temple) though not as old is really a lovely building. It has heavily, artfully carved gold-gilded windows and doors depicting the life of the Buddha, his trials and triumphs.

 

The main gate to the temple compound is flanked by two large and very stylized lions. Lions like these can be found flanking every entrance to all the temple compounds here in Northwest Thailand. It’s humorous that these lions always have a stylized, asterisk asshole. But then, who doesn’t want to have that?

 

 

High and thick walls ring the entire compound. Set in relief to each section of the wall are large Dharma Wheels, the most ancient of Buddhist symbols. They are used throughout Thailand as a symbol of the dharma, the wheel to take on the path to Nirvana. The eight spokes represent the Eight Precepts to follow on the path. Next to the lions, and to show that this is a temple compound, are bright yellow flags with the Dharma Wheel in red and next to them fly the red, white and blue striped national flag of Thailand.

 

Entering the gate the temperature instantly drops as massive and ancient shade trees cast their shadows over the courtyard entrance. The entire area is paved with bricks. With so much shade, they have been completely covered with the growth of a stunning, bright green moss. The largest tree, a most ancient Bodhi (you can almost always spot one in every temple compound, it is the species of tree under which the Buddha attained enlightenment) is surrounded with decorated poles. They are  brightly papered with gold and silver foil. These tree trunks and smaller bundles of branches are all in a a vast array of sizes and lengths. They all lean into and on the massive trunks and spreading branches of the Bodhi tree.

There are hundreds of them!

Read about the Bodhi tree - Trees in the World

A Quick Scot

As I walked through the gate into this lush setting, the compound Wihan glittering beyond the trees, I heard,

“Aye! Gairry!”

I was greeted by a tall, thin, redheaded Scot named Graham. With him I was introduced to yet another Frenchman, Florine. Graham had to depart the very next morning for Laos, to renew his visa. They had been anxiously awaiting my arrival.

After we dropped our bags in an upstairs building, Graham gave Florine [he insisted that we call him Flor, as he felt no one, for some odd French reasoning, could remember or pronounce Florine correctly] and I a quick tour of the temple buildings. Then he gave an even speedier lesson in Thai temple etiquette and what to do when entering a Thai Wihan.

Though I appreciated the instruction I couldn’t help but feel Graham’s sense of urgency and the need to get things over with ASAP. Fortunate for him that his Scottish accent was so affectingly cute that it eased the urgency with a spot of humor.

It was really rather funny, this Scotsman rushing through kneeling procedures, bowing and wai-ing three times to the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha and, even though rushed, I did appreciate his philosophical bent on Buddhism:

Noot A Guud

“Ya see guys, Flor, Gairee, we not be bowin’ to dis stachoo o’ Buddha to be askin fur anythin, that’s noot the pearpice ere. Da Buddha ayes noot a Guud. Y’re noot be bowin’ tha be e’fectin’ anythin! It tis simply ta be remembrin im n’ ta tank im for givin us Is teachins, da Dharma. So wee c’n fiend ur oon way.”

Florine and I were inextricably linked from our very first introduction. I don’t know if either of us particularly liked the fact, but we both knew and felt it from the onset. Graham’s leaving early the next day made us feel even more connected by virtue of needing to learn as much as possible. He was throwing a lot of information our way so we could help each other remember when the other one lapsed.

After our basic introduction and in order to purchase our white outfits, we were zipped off in Graham’s car. These we would wear for the remainder of our stay.

We All Notice

He parked and led us into a small maze of clothing shops. We went directly to one that he must do a brisk business with. He was in a hurry. He rushed us through the choices. There were all of two. I ended up translating most of the sizes and deals. Graham had been in Thailand many more years than I had been yet I felt our language skills were on par with each other. But that was just a simple, self-elevated guess.

Not that this was a competition mind you, but in such situations both parties notice such things.

While walking back to the car Graham quipped,

“Will, Gairee, Aye cudn’t elp but nootice tha’ yur language skils r’ purtty impresive. Aye’m guessin aye can be leavin ya wit Flor eer. Y’lads moost be ungrai soo aye’l be lettin yoo oof eer at dis wee place to be geet’n sum fuod. Den ya kin wook bach o’er to da tempill und aye’l meet yoo in theiarty minoots r’soo.”

He dropped us at this little side road cafe across from the temple compound and sped off.

And that was that. I ended up sitting face to face with yet another better-than-average-looking Frenchman.       

What’s was going on here?

__________________________

 

Parisian

 

Florine came from a Parisian suburb the name of which I don’t recall. I think he was twenty-four or so. He was currently living in Singapore, where he had recently graduated from business school.

When he sat down across from me and took off his perfect designer, movie-staresque sunglasses, his pupils dilated down from the bright light. As the area of irises increased, I couldn’t believe the clarity and blue stillness that his eyes seemed to transmit. For that is exactly what they did, they transmitted their color rather than their color coming from the usual physics of reflected light.

And again, that perfect luminous skin with that painterly depth. I hadn’t seen that skin -type luminousness since the last Frenchman I met got up and walked away, leaving me alone on the train.

Frenchmen – Chapter 3

Control

Unlike Francois though, Florine was mature. Though some coquettishness still surfaced in his demeanor, as happens with most French men I’ve known, he knew how to control himself. In fact, it was a bit disconcerting, almost oppressive in someone so young, this absolute knowing and control.

I ordered some fried rice, a basic that everyone can love. We ate, making the usual small talk that strangers thrown together make to fill in the blanks of their now cross-worded lives.

Crossover

Florine’s brilliant blue eyes were made all the more clairvoyant by the contrast of his blue-black hair.

It was the kind of hair and color that I usually associate with men from the Mideast. I wondered about his family history. Just when and where, say during the Crusades, his ancestors had been.

His shirt was unbuttoned. In order to keep it at bay, the thick black mat of hair protruding up toward his neck had been trimmed. Looking back at his eyes, his lashes had that almost so-curled-to-be-fake look. This is something I’ve only seen in certain Tunisian men or on life-sized dolls of baby Jesus in Mexican curios shops. Lashes and lids so thick and dark that, for all I could tell, he used kohl to line them.

He hadn’t shaved for a day. Unlike me, where I can skip a day or two and no one would know, his beard came in thick and fast. It cast a shadow that deepened as it curved around his jawline then crept down his neck. Here it intercepted the hair reaching up and out from his chest. His arms, even the backs of his hands, had that fine but long hair that make an almost painted on-like pattern as it wraps around to the outer arm. He had little tufts of hair that cropped up between each knuckle and first finger joint.

That brought a smile to my face, I don’t know why.

Imagine

I could only imagine where and how this hirsute festival ended. It trailed down and around places and things that only those on the most intimate of terms learn to travel through and navigate.

But, we were here to learn of other things. To meditate. To look inside.

We walked back to the temple compound to meet up with Graham and to also meet the rest of the group. Florine asked me if I was married. A sometimes awkward question for a gay man. I began cautiously with I have a boyfriend. Then I realized that this was a young, well educated, well traveled man from Europe. He could probably understand the underlying social politics of it all better than I could.

So then I said,

“Just last year we actually got married. After they legalized it in our state of Arizona. So, after 25 years of being together, we could finally make it legal.”

He congratulated me. Then he asked,

“So what do I say, how do I call im?”

I said, “He’s my husband!”

He said, “Mais oui!”

And that was that.

________________________________

 

Strangers in the New World

We went back to the temple compound where we had dropped off our bags on the second floor of a lovely old teak building set aside to receive incoming foreigners. There we met several people who we’d be spending our time with:

Ketty from the Maldives now living in London

Bruno from Brazil now living and working in Singapore

Phil, a retired American who had worked in Japan for the past 30 years

Hiroko, a Japanese woman married to Phil

Three foreign novice monks –

Tony from Chicago

Barry from Australia

Aukhun from Hong Kong.

A large bell sounded.

Looking out the window I could see a young novice monk. With a three foot long knobbed branch he beat on the Rakhang. (Rakhang: a large brass temple bell. Added note: Rakhang is one of the consonant letters in the Thai alphabet. KHaw raKHang – much like our B is for Baby). As the novice struck the Rakhang every dog in the compound ran toward the bell barking. With rapt attention, they then stood or sat near the novice. Because at least twenty-five dogs howled in a chorus, the likes of which I’ve never heard before, it marked the beginning of a new chapter. A time that I will never forget.

With the bell still resonating along with the high pitched howl of dogs, we all headed over to the main sala of the temple compound. Pali chanting is held here every morning and evening with the monks, novices and congregation.

Just then, I felt like I was finally about to learn something.