Om

I love visiting Buddhist monasteries.

For me, the main attraction isn’t the quiet charm of a peaceful courtyard, or the humbling awe of seeing an enormous gold statue. No, for me, the best part is seeing the monks themselves.

With their shaved heads and long robes, monks are easy to spot. More often than not, they are wandering around the monastery, or perhaps trying to keep annoying tourists like me from snapping photos of holy images. But if you’re lucky, you can spot monks engaging in un-monk-like behavior. I am always on the watch for these moments.

The other day, I hit the jackpot. Not only did I spot an elderly monk enjoying a cold bottle of Coke, and a younger monk sporting a stylish Nike t-shirt under his robes, but I also happened upon this:

It is exactly what it looks like: a group of monks struggling to move a giant Buddha across the monastery. As the group made their way across the courtyard (“You! Watch the head!” “Okay, now turn! Turn!”), one monk happened to lose a shoe in the shuffle. Ever on the lookout, I spotted this immediately, and rushed to help. After delivering the shoe to its rightful owner, I was treated to a bunch of goofy monk grins, a hesitant “thank you?” in English, and embarrassed giggles all around.

No sirs, thank you.

The very next day, I headed out to Shaolin Monastery, famed home of the…wait for it…Shaolin monks, known worldwide for their amazing kung fu skills. Because of their glowing reputation and commitment to excellence, many parents send their sons to the monastery to be trained from a very young age.

Lots of young monks, of course, means lots of unruly behavior. My hopes were high, and as it turned out, I was not disappointed. During my visit, I saw several teenage monks playing a heated game of basketball, including one show-off who kept stealing the ball to engage in some fancy dribbling. Even more exciting, two young monks, apparently late for dinner, decided to skip the stairs and instead “surf” wildly down the stone ramp next to the stairs. After they’d gone, I noticed that the ramp was worn completely smooth, I can only assume from hundreds of years of young monk hooligans trying to make it to meals on time.

The highlight of my trip to Shaolin, however, came right as I was leaving the compound. I was walking down the road leading from the monastery to the visitors’ parking lot, when suddenly a motorcycle zipped past me, going well above the speed limit. As I looked to see who could possibly be driving so fast, imagine my joy at seeing two monks at the wheel, their orange robes billowing in the wind.

The perfect end to a perfect day.