I don’t think I’ve ever been in Asia this long without visiting a pagoda. I got up before six this morning, all filled with jitters for a timed environmental journalism exam that I may or may not have passed. I’d work for ENB, the service that takes verbatim notes at every major climate and environment UN conference. It’s a great gig for doctoral students because you can attend international policy discussions for free — plus this is all part of my elaborate plan to follow Flavia on her future UN work missions and scoop her stories.

So by two thirty pm I’d collected archived documents from the Ministry of Animal Health (ten years of annual reports, posters, copies of contracts, biodigester feasibility studies) and I’d taken my test, managed my way to the Russian market where I picked up godchildren gifts and bargained for some chintzy purses, and was home. Figured I deserved a swim and a photography walk. Stumbled into a monk village, all orange and gold.

The monks unlocked the pagoda for me and turned on the buddha disco lights — truly the most gruesome Buddha display I’ve ever seen - but I got to do a short meditation which must have impressed them. They clarified that I am Buddhist, and then took incense sticks, dipped them in water, and splashed the water on me while chanting for a while. They took my hand forcefully and just kept splashing and chanting and nodding. I gave some money which only made them chant harder. At the end of it all they bowed to me, and I bowed back, and they said “good luck.” I had been thinking this was some kind of monk prank but the good luck wish seemed sincere, and the water splashing was actually really welcome in the tropical heat.

Such a surprising city. I feel I’m grasping about 15% of what happens during my day.