The Case of the Buddihst Launderer
After 30 years of travel to 70+ countries, I have come to believe that the things that are special in a place are the really mundane, and the ones that are completely unexpected. Everything else just "is".I'm in New Orleans, Louisiana. I'm "passing through", traveling between our home in Arizona and Kathy (my wife) Dad's place in the Florida Keys. It's a 2400 mile trip that I'm doing over 7 days. Its about at mid-point now, and I'm on my 2nd evening in New Orleans tonight.
I've been to N.O. a dozen or more times. I can get by without a map. I know the good neighborhoods and bad. You'd think "Great! Time to expand the repertoire -- expand horizons -- new areas. New experiences". And I do -- but also find especially when traveling alone, that it is nice to "re-experience the old". I walked a couple of miles to a restaurant I've been to over and over -- "Mother's" and had basically the same meal I've eaten there 10 times before. It is sooooo good. Comfort food for the body and for the mind.
Wandering the streets, trying to take decent photos on a crappy day, at noon when the light is at its worst, one of the things I also needed to do is get laundry washed. Ever try to take pictures with a big SLR camera while carrying a bag of dirty laundry? I didn't think so. My bed & breakfast doesn't offer the service, but wash-dry-fold laundry services abound. Dropped off the bag and the proprietor told me in broken English that I should come back at 4:00. If I had know that school would be in session, maybe I would have arrived earlier.
I'd asked him "where his family is from". This is more diplomatic (and less ambiguous) than asking simply "Where are you from?" ("Cleveland") and it obviates any racial overtones ("Where are your people from?"). "Cambodia", was the succinct reply.
When I went to pick up the clothes, I asked the polite questions about his coming to the US. The relationship between the US and Cambodia has been tenuous at best (younger folks may not know that we bombed the crap out of them in Vietnam era, during my formative years). He seemed to have this serenity about him -- little did I know, he was the Buddhist equivalent of a born-again-Christian -- wait -- Buddhists believe in re-incarnation -- maybe he was born-again?
After I paid him, he launched into the Buddhist equivalent of "have you accepted Jesus Christ as your Savior?". It would have been interesting -- it was interesting but it would have been more interesting, if I had understood more than every 3rd word. He had unlocked the front door of the shop to let me in, and it briefly flashed through my mind "What if I'm locked in with this guy?". I listened politely for about 10 minutes but I guess he got the message that... I wasn't getting the message. But he was sincere so I try to be the attentive student. As I was listening I noticed that he had a glove on one hand -- he was missing several fingers. When he raised his arm I noticed the underside was all scar tissue, wrist to elbow. This guy had not had an easy life.
Tomorrow is another 500+ mile day, so I have to be a good boy ("party hardly" rather than "party hardy"). Photos to follow.
Labels: Buddhism, New Orleans, travel
posted by Scott & Kathy @ 3:29 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home