Mooooo. Mooooooo!”
Wednesday morning, I awoke on my mosquito-netted pallet to the sounds of a cattle stampede.
“Feb?” I called, struggling to pull myself out of bed after what felt like a very short night of sleep. I guessed I was still out of whack from the time zone changes. “I thought you were working on a rice farm,” I said. “Not a dairy farm.”
When I pushed back the beaded curtain separating my bedroom from the main living space of the bungalow, I saw that Feb and Kelly were seated on the floor. Their eyes were closed and their legs were folded in this crazy yogic position. Just as I opened my mouth to ask where the cow pen was, both Feb and Kelly opened their mouths and let out a sonorous moooooo.
Oh. That’s where the cow pen was.
“Very nice. Keep breathing, the answer is within you,” a very soft male voice chanted.
I hadn’t even noticed anyone else in the room, but once my eyes fell on the small, round man in the corner, it seemed like an easy mistake. He was wearing a knee-length linen shirt and loose slacks, both the same color as the walls. His wrinkled skin bunched up to hide his features. He could easily have been a hundred years old. Who was this dude?
I tried to tiptoe toward the bathroom to brush my teeth, but the sound of my steps on the dirt floor caused one of Feb’s eyes to pop open. When she looked at me, she lost her balance and fell out of her meditation position.
“February, you have broken your nirvana,” the man said.
“I’m sorry, Guru,” Feb said, sounding more reverent than I’d ever heard her sound when she spoke to my parents. “I sensed another presence and broke my concentration.” She pointed at me. “This is my younger sister, Flan.”
I was starting to feel like all I’d done since I got to Thailand was interrupt my sister and her new Zen way of life. I was about to duck into the bathroom in shame, when Kelly waved me over to the floor.
“Come join us for the breakfast mediation,” he said. “You’re just in time for one last mantra.”
These two were substituting meditation for breakfast! But I guessed I wouldn’t be opposed to combining the two. The few times I’d gone to yoga with SBB had been really chill and relaxing, and you know what they say: when in Thailand …
I plopped down on the floor between them, trying to fold my legs up accordingly. Okay, I was just going to have to settle for preschool pretzel style.
The guru started walking in circles around our cluster on the floor. He was repeating the same Sanskrit phrases, so softly that it almost sounded like he was speaking to himself. Feb whispered occasional translations to me, and I tried to sink into the zone. But I was getting hungrier by the mantra—and eager to find an Internet café or someplace I could send Camille a real update. There was so much I needed to spill. I kept opening my eyes to see if anyone else was finished chanting. Every once in a while, the guru would catch my eye and give me a soft, smiling shake of the head.
By the end of the session, twenty pad-thai-on-the-brain minutes later, Feb and Kelly’s faces were beading with sweat. Both of them belted out the same final mantra at the same haunting pitch. When they opened their eyes, they looked at each other and shared a smile.
When Feb finally stood up to get a glass of water, I followed her to the kitchen.
“So what was all this moo stuff about?” I asked, grabbing a bottle of water from the tiny fridge for myself.
“Mu,” she corrected. “We were exercising our inner questioner. You use mu to respond to something irrelevant. Roughly, it means ‘un-ask the question.’ But, you know, in a groovy, peaceful sort of way.”
I nodded. “So, if I were to ask you if there was a good place for coffee and a New York bagel around here—”
“Mu,” Feb interrupted, cracking a smile. “I have to change the subject before I start thinking too hard about an everything with jalapeño cream cheese from H&H.” She sighed. “So how was last night?”
“Fun,” I lied, thinking about how lonely I’d felt sitting at the restaurant all by myself, and how even though there were all these cool street vendors to explore, I’d basically come straight home after having a bowl of soup.
“You’re bored,” Feb said, reading my tone. “Listen, I promised you a good time, and I’m going to show you one.”
I grinned. When Feb said that, it usually meant shopping by day to prepare for a killer party by night.
“Cool,” I said. “So where should we brunch? I know there’s no Orsay, but—”
Feb held up a hand. “Sorry, Flan. Our fast ends at sundown. And I have to work in the fields until then. Hey, quit frowning. We’ll throw down tonight.”
“But—” I started to say, imagining another day of wandering listlessly around town.
“Before you get all melancholy on me,” Feb said, “Kelly thought you might want to spend some time with our guru.”
“Huh?” What on earth would I do with a guru?
“He’s a really good listener,” Feb insisted. “Maybe you could talk things out.”
I looked over at the guru, who had Kelly lying on the floor with both of his legs in a pretzel position behind his head. It didn’t look like there was a whole lot of listening going on, just a whole lot of physical strain. But if Feb was going to be at the rice paddies all day, what else did I have to do?
“I’m not going to have to do any Cirque du Soleil–style positions, am I?” I said.
“Mu.” Feb laughed, and brought me over to the guru.
An hour later, I was sitting at the top of a cliff, looking down at all of Bangkok, which seemed so far away. After Feb and Kelly hosed me down with some crazy Thai mosquito repellent and outfitted me in a pair of Feb’s army green waterproof boots, the guru led me up a steep trail, through what felt like an enchanted forest, across two rushing streams, and finally to a clearing at the top of a cliff.
“This is a space of total serenity,” he said in the same even tone of voice. “I hope you will find it comfortable.” He motioned for me to take a seat on a rock facing the cliff’s edge, and together we looked out at the view. I was watching the slow movement of canoes and cargo boats down the river, when the guru took my hand and slid something inside it.
I looked down to find a red stone on a red rope. I’d seen a lot of these amulets for sale on the streets last night, but I hadn’t stopped to look closely at any of them yet. This one featured a carving of a small, smiling Buddha figure, who didn’t look unlike the guru. When I looked up at him, he took my hand and flipped the amulet over to the other side. I held it up to the light to read a tiny inscription on the stone:
Protection from your feelings of betrayal.
“You came here looking for answers,” the guru said.
“Actually,” I said, twisting my fingers around the necklace, “I came here because my mom thought—”
He put his hand up as if to apologize for interrupting. “But you are here, and you are seeking answers. Your sister says you have had a betrayal,” he said evenly, as if it were totally normal for my sister to fill in this stranger on the intimate details of my heart.
I looked out at the sun, which was starting to peek over the trees lining the river, and I couldn’t help wondering what kind of rare birds were perched in their branches. Alex would know. He’d have a book, and his binoculars, and … The guru was still staring at me.
“If you are looking for the fleeting hornbill, you’ll find him there,” he said, pointing a finger at the low bough of a tree where a wild black and yellow bird took flight. “But just like everything else in life, his perch is fleeting.”
“I really liked him, Guru,” I said softly. “Not the hornbill—my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.”
“Just as the sun and the stars are in motion, so is your pain. Relief will come.”
Clearly this guy had never met SBB. He might have been very wise in some circles, but he had no idea that in my near future, there was either a party—or an appointment with Berserk Bianca. I didn’t want to disagree with the guru, who had a really sweet disposition and an impressive grasp on local wildlife, but for my own sake, I had to disagree. Recalling the jpeg that SBB had sent me of Bianca—drawn cheeks, severe hairline, terrifying eyes—I knew I didn’t have time to give it time!
“With all due respect, Guru,” I said, surprising myself with my boldness, “I disagree. I can’t just let this heartbreak run its course. I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t be me.”
“‘Me’?” the guru repeated, seeming to mentally chew on the word. “That is not a Buddhist outlook.” He patted my shoulder. “But you have a strong will. I like that.”
“So you don’t disapprove of my trying to move on?” I asked.
“Mu,” he said, so solemnly it took me a second to realize that he was making a joke.
“Wear the amulet,” he said, standing up from his rock on the mountain. “You may choose not to take the Buddhist approach, but the Buddha will still watch over you.”
I slipped the amulet over my head and shook the guru’s hand. “Luckily,” I joked, “red is totally my color.”
After we parted ways, I decided to stay in the place of serenity for a little longer. I pulled out my phone and texted SBB:
WHIRLWIND WEEK. DIVERTED TO THAILAND TO HANG WITH FEB. BUT DON’T WORRY—OPERATION GET OVER JONY STILL IN FULL SWING. BETTER DUST OFF YOUR PARTY MANOLOS FOR MY RETURN. HOW’S THE WEIGHT GAIN GOING?
The speed of SBB’s response made me feel like the amulet was working already:
GREETINGS FROM IN-N-OUT BURGER IN L.A. JR SAYS I’M IN THE SEVENTIETH PERCENTILE FOR MY WEIGHT CLASS. I WILL NOT LET IT GET ME DOWN! GLAD THAILAND SEEMS TO BE BEEFING UP YOUR HEART. SHOULD I KEEP BIANCA’S NUMBER ON SPEED DIAL … JUST IN CASE?
Gulp.