Hey Hey We're The Monks

Ulan Ude

Met another friendly local on the train last night. The two of us had a compartment to ourselves and he was very keen on trying out what little English he knew as well as, inevitably, sharing his stash of vodka and teaching me to drink it Mongolian-style, flicking it about to ward off evil spirits. It was really good stuff whatever it was although the measures he poured were on the generous side. I was able to fill my mouth with one of the drinks and there was still some left in the mug.

Not surprisingly we were getting on very well before long but I was still surprised at what happened this morning. He got me to watch the bags then came back after a while in a taxi and beckoned me to get in. We went through the city and got out at the bus station. Then he found a small bus and we both got in, me jammed in tightly with my backpack on my knees. Despite that I managed to get a great view out the window of the sun rising across the mountains and sparse plains as the bus sped at worrying speed away from town. After a while we got to where we were going and it turned out to be... a Buddhist monastery. But of course! Just what I had in mind for half past seven in the morning.

Actually it was a great place, the Ivolginsk Datsan, centre of Russian Buddhism. The Dalai Lama comes and hangs out there once in a while. Seeing my first monk was a funny experience, they're bald and in dark red robes, just like on telly. We looked around the site which was still empty at that time of the morning, walking clockwise around everything and doing stuff three times. Then he took me into the main building where among other remarkable, colourful sights and icons there was a mummy in a case with a flag hanging out the bottom. When we approached a monk appeared and pushed my head into the flag (three times, of course) which was a bit on a baffling side. It was very peaceful, a spell broken only slightly by the sight of one of the monks answering his mobile after his ringtone of Dido's "Thank You" had sounded round the room.

Then it started to fill with monks, all sitting around three long tables in the middle. I took a seat on a bench against the wall and watched as worshippers started to file in and sit all around me. One of the monks had a headset microphone and started to lead the chanting. Everyone joined in, sometimes the people around me stood up and sometimes they sat down again. Occasionally one of the monks banged a big gong thing and some others bashed cymbals before the chanting resumed. Everyone around me (I was the only westerner) kept on closing their eyes, leaning forward, praying. I have to admit was exhausted by this point and so when I copied them it was more out of tiredness than religious respect, but they weren't to know. After two hours of this and with no end in sight I finally gave up on the service, got the bus back here, found a hotel and crashed out for the afternoon. It was quite a trip though, not something I thought I'd see, and a privilege to do so.