...though some, I know, would say it's the same thing.
It's a strange day. We have planned, at my instigation, to find out more about Buddhism, which is followed by 70% of Vietnam's population. Having reviewed what we have learned about what it is like to live here, it seems we have gaps in respect of Buddhism and Communism. In a bid to find out more about the former we have formed the brilliant plan of visiting four pagodas, (Buddhist temples) in the hope that we might glean something of an understanding and bump into a monk or two who might be willing to talk to us.
I add to this genius by suggesting that I should be the appointed navigator as M normally takes on this responsibility and it didn't seem fair that I leave him to do it while I traipse along gormlessly in his wake all the time.
The four pagodas are spread quite far apart. The day is especially hot. And I am on a mission.
I probably don't need to say any more. You can see where this is going.
By the third pagoda, I am soaked through with sweat. We are even filthier than usual, I have a thumping headache and we have walked approximately twenty miles (it feels like) in the searing heat. I, in particular, being essentially a polar bear when it comes to preferred temperatures, am increasingly irritable and a little despondent. We have not found enlightenment.
We have, on the upside, found the pagodas. Apart from a couple of small detours, I have proved to myself that I am in fact, capable of reading a map. Albeit a Google one with GPS.
The trouble is that the pagodas, though beautiful, have not imparted any understanding of Buddhism, particularly as practised in Vietnam. "But is Buddha a God?" I ask M, perplexedly, "or a teacher? Is Buddhism a religion or a philosophy?"
"I don't know," replies M, "is there only one Buddha? Or are there multiple?"
"I don't know." I say, "and when people light insence, and bow their heads, are they praying? So Buddha must be a God."
"I thought Buddha was in everybody and everything." Says M.
Wherever Buddha is, this afternoon, he is not in me. We have not really seen any monks except one presiding over a service which seemed to involve a lot of harmonious but impenetrable chanting. And the majority of the day has seemed to have been spent walking about on the edges of crazy roads, dodging cockerels, puddles, pot holes and motorbikes which seem to rule, not only the roads, but also the pavements.
The nearest we have come to a handy Buddhism for Dummies style tuition, is when we are met by a couple of insistent ladies, who take us by the forearm and whose English is comprised purely of "Madam come. Come now." They press some insence sticks into my hand. I am dubious. "How much?" I say. "Free" they assure me.
How nice, I think. Maybe this will enlighten us. For the next twenty minutes I and a very suspicious M are herded rapidly from alter to alter to place the insence sticks. When I start to hang back, realising M's cynicism may have in fact been realism, the chastening, "Madame, Madame" follows me everywhere. I am made to bow my head three times at an alter to someone or something that I not only do not necessarily believe in but that I do not even know the name of. I feel like a terrible hypocrite. That British politeness I was talking about the other day? "Ignore everything I said", I think savagely, watching M escape into the distance, the ladies having given up on him, "it's a curse." Eventually, and to my relief, we reach the exit and the inevitable happens. The insence and accompanying persecution, was not in fact free.
In fairness, the ladies have provided some service, albeit one we didn't ask for, in showing us around the pagoda, and I don't think we would have found every corner of it left to wander to our own devices. I pay them 50 thousand dong and am deaf to their protestations that it costs 500 thousand.
We leave quickly, and I wait till we are just out of sight before I yank out the flowers which they have pulled from one of the alters and put in my hair. I don't know much about Buddhism but I am pretty sure you are not supposed to nick the offerings in order to accessorise your outfit. It has been the least peaceful experience I have ever had in a place of worship.
"I know nothing about Buddhism," I say despondently, "I've seen some pretty things but I had no idea what I was looking at."
"Internet?" suggests M. We repair to a cafe.
After a restorative cheesecake smoothie (I kid you not) and some WiFi, we have discovered that the type of Buddhism practised in Vietnam is generally more ceremonial than theological. It is also sometimes mixed with Taoism. Everyone practices it differently and if we want a theological discussion we are more likely to get it in Thailand. We then read some other completely conflicting articles and some fairly confusing outlines of the concepts of Buddhism, which also contradict each other.
We walk rather less enthusiastically to our fourth pagoda. M reads the guide book which tells him about the architecture and the statues. I spend a long time watching the turtles.
"Beer?" suggests M.
I want nothing more.
In the cool of the beer house, which is German themed, making me feel even less culturally aware, we drink a large flagon of dark beer. We eat some cheese.
I feel better.
I have not achieved enlightenment. But I know a few things.
1) I can navigate
2) You can't always understand everything and everyone practises their faith in a different way
3) It's best, if you can, to spread your experiences over a sensible period, not hoon it all over the city at fifty miles an hour on foot
4) You can trust people in Vietnam, but if you're being offered something you're really not sure about, its OK to say no.
5) If waved in your face a lot, insence can really get into your eyes.
6) Beer is the answer
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