Monastery Mayhem

As human creatures, we are equipped with radar systems designed to tell us when danger is lurking. (My mother has a well-tuned built in one) Of course, on the other end of the spectrum, there are others who know that danger lurks, but choose to ride it out calmly without alarm bells going off. (My father possessed no bells once he had made up his mind to follow through with an adventure) Got the picture?

Now, let's continue in making this point regarding human behavior by venturing back to the year 1971. My parents, brother, sister and I went on a vacation to Hong Kong. We had a well-planned agenda and we were excited about the wide array of excursions and sight-seeing tours we would drink in daily -- until one fateful day. We had planned a trip by boat to Lantau Island.

At the top of the island was the Po Lin Monastery which was our ultimate destination. The monastery was founded by three monks in 1906. There are three bronze statues of the Buddha. It is representative of his past, present and future lives. The brochures portrayed the image of his right hand raised and his left hand with an open palm. So, the prospect of seeing the Buddhas was definitely a drawing card. His facial gesture had an image of total peacefulness as if to say, "Chill out. There's nothing to worry about." Little did he know that there was, in fact, "worry" for that particular day, or as I have come to call it "Monastery Mayhem."

Now -- depending on your nature, you will be able to either identify completely with my mother or you will connect with my father's attitude concerning this day. So, begins the trip that is embedded in my mind for posterity's sake. It all began innocently enough with a simple junket that led us to Lantau Island.

As we were stepping off the junket, we couldn't help but notice the man-of war that were floating freely in the water below'"hundreds and hundreds of them. Perhaps, they should have been our first warning sign that even more terror was lurking.

We were expecting to then be loaded on to the advertised air-conditioned luxury bus shown in the lovely brochure. Instead, however, it was a "rickety, un-air-conditioned jalopy-thingie."

We then loaded up on the "thingie" and laboriously started on our adventurous journey. My brother, sister, mother and I found a seat at the back of the bus. There was not enough room for my father, so he found a seat in the middle.

The winding, curvy road that circled the mountain was in actuality not a road at all'"no asphalt, no lines, no fence, but instead a "trek of mud" and sheer harrowing drop-offs '"straight drops to the awaiting hungry man-of-war. Talk about living life on the edge! (literally) Let's not even talk about the radiator problems that called for three stops along the way to drown it with water. The guide kept us updated with a primitive megaphone.

We encountered an occasional truck or bus coming down the mountain which meant that it met us head on. So, our only alternative was to back up on a thin, thin, thin, sliver of road/mud.
We were told that only one bus had ever taken the plunge over the side. How very comforting??

We finally reached a plateau halfway up the mountain when my mother realized she had reached a pivotal point and needed to end this perilous journey'"right then! So -- she stood up from the back of the bus and yelled out, "Let me off of this bus right now!" My brother, sister and I automatically stood up and marched behind her to the sound of the whispers coming from the astonished passengers. As we passed my father, he calmly looked up at my mother and asked, "Do you want me to come, too?" Too which my mother replied, "That would certainly be nice of you!"

The bus driver told us that we had made a very dangerous choice because there were bandits that roamed the mountain. '˜Hmmmm, my mother weighed the options thinking, '˜Now would I rather plunge over a mountain or take my chances with bandits. I'll take the bandits. Let us off now!'
We sat on the side of the mountain for several hours and waited for the bus to pick us up on the way back from Buddha. Somehow, I'm suspecting that Buddha would have understood and with open palms said, "Whatever works best for you."

Now, mull it over. How would you have behaved?