Settling in

Yesterday, when I went to my usual internet cafe, first the electricity was off, then the phone lines were down.  The same problem occured this morning.  It is the way here, a sort of tenuous connection with the modern world.  I had Tibetan tea this morning, a tea consisting of butter, salt and water.  The monk who runs the monastery watched my face, as he does at every meal, to see my reaction.  He is quite convinced that I will quickly find a fancy restaurant to eat my meals, initially telling me that I couldn't eat here and then later, when Tamdrin, the lay man who co-runs the monastery corrected him; he assured me that I wouldn't like the food.  If only my mother could see me now.  I eat everything.  But there have been some moments.  The chilis are too hot for me and needless to say, I learned that the hard way.  Dinner, which I missed the first two nights not knowing when to show up the first night and being miss-informed the second due to an error in translation-is the same everynight, a soup with green, spinach like leaves and soy floating in it.  Breakfast is a dumpling like bread with peanut butter and jelly.  Lunch has variety; rice, some kind of sauce and chili.  

The day starts at 5:30AM with puja.  All the monks, there are 108 of them, attend.  Tomorrow I will try and join as today I woke at 5:45 and so meditated in my room while the sounds emanated out of the gompa.  I don't know how to describe the sounds.  Maybe tomorrow.  The monks come here at age 7 or 8.  After puja and then breakfast, they have classes, and then puja again in the afternoon.  In the evening they play soccer in the courtyard or a game in the alley outside the entrance which I haven't figured out yet.  They are quite curious about me, peering around the door when I am eating, smiling and then quickly looking away.  They all wear the red-burgandy robes with the yellow/orange shirts and have shaved heads.  But the eyes are so bright, the smiles so beautiful.  

Small steps, every day, settling, learning, walking, watching.  

I love knowing you are there, reading this.  It gives me a sense of connection.