Chapter 7
“It’s nice to be together when there’s no crime to solve,” commented Chantal while raising a glass of water to her lips.
“I don’t know,” Krishna responded, “I sometimes think that I would like to live closer to you folks so that I could be in on the adventures.”
David Gold broke into a half smile. “With all my years on the police force, the most unusual and bizarre cases I have encountered have been with some of you people. There’s always that tinge of the supernatural.”
“My late husband used to look at me as if I were from Jupiter,” Flo quipped with a nostalgic grin. “I can’t imagine why. I guess energy medicine and Registered Nursing just didn’t go together for him.”
Francis added, “I was just listening to some audiotapes by a neurobiologist on the flight here to LA and got a huge laugh out of something she said in her lecture. The scientist said that when researchers get older they tend to ‘go mystical.’ Funny. I started out that way!”
The college-age Asian appearing waiter came over with a large tray heaped with pizza and salad and began to arrange the food on the table. He seemed to pick up on the warmth and openness of the group and felt free to ask, “Are you people on your way to someplace exciting?”
“Tibet,” Francis answered, “by way of Nepal on the way in, and Bangkok on the way out. We are actually going to spend much of our time in Lhasa but will travel beyond there many miles into the highest parts of the Himalayas.”
The waiter’s hand trembled as he poured red wine into a glass and he splashed some red stains on the snowy white tablecloth. “Please excuse me, please excuse me, and please excuse me. I will clean that up right away.” In a flash the waiter was gone. He was back momentarily with a large white napkin which he unfolded and placed over the stains.
“Will this be acceptable ladies and gentlemen?”
“Certainly, certainly,” the group murmured and nodded. They were more focused on how upsetting their itinerary was to this young man than on the wine stains.
The waiter left and the group continued on in a lively and jovial fashion. They shared stories, catching up on the months in between when they had not all been together.
“Of course I want dessert,” Brother Francis said. “It’s my favorite vice.” Everyone in the group enjoyed a dangerously delicious ice cream sundae, various flavors selected by each person.
As they were finishing their luscious desserts, Flo asked the group if they were all taking their Ginkgo. Everyone nodded in the affirmative. Flo continued, “Francis, that was a wonderful message you sent to us. I was glad to get the information you provided. The last thing any of us needs is Acute Mountain Sickness. That can even result in death I understand.”
David chimed in with, “Yes, I wish I had brought my copy of that e-mail post along.”
Chantal pulled a paper out of her bag and stated, “I have it right here.”
The following material is offered as informal information only, not as a professional medical or psychological consult. While we care about the well being of everyone going on our journey, and will be as helpful as possible, each person is ultimately responsible for his or her own health during our trip.
We will be spending time at high altitudes (Tibet is often referred to as “the top of the world”) and our bodies need to acclimatize to thinner air. There are certain normal physiological changes that can occur during adaptation, e.g., hyperventilation, increased urination, etc. One possible adverse reaction to decreasing oxygen can be Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS). Symptoms may include loss of appetite, nausea, fatigue, dizziness and more.
Additional helpful information about acclimatization and AMS can be found at www.high-altitude-medicine.com. You may find the Ginkgo Biloba study for the prevention of AMS especially interesting. Check with your Doctor before taking Ginkgo, especially if you are on blood thinners.
We encourage you to:
1) Consult with your health care provider;
2) Get on a healthy food plan;
3) Do some exercise to stay / get in shape;
4) Practice some qigong (e.g., Bone Marrow Cleansing, pp. 194-199, in The Way of Qigong by Ken Cohen (NY: Ballantine, 1997);
5) Meditate regularly, e.g., the Microcosmic Orbit or another meditation you may be familiar with;
6) Smile!
The friends stood up as if reading one another’s minds. They gathered together in a group hug and departed for their rooms, knowing that tomorrow would provide the next step on their Asian adventure. Francis was too wound up to sleep so he went back to his room, picked up his bathing suit and made his way to the gym in the hotel. To his delight there was a bubbling whirlpool waiting for him, illuminated by soft green lighting. Swaying with the swirling water, Francis drifted into a semi-sleep. He awakened sometime later, as a young man and woman giggled their way into the whirlpool. They looked like honeymooners. He gave them a silent blessing.
Francis began his journey up the stairwell to the thirteenth floor, firm in his belief that elevators and moving stairways in airports were health hazards. As he climbed the stairs, the monk thought about the young waiter and his startled reaction in the restaurant. His clinical curiosity was starting to get the best of him. Maybe I can find him tomorrow and gently ask if everything is okay.
As he got closer to his room, Francis pulled out the plastic key card and put it in the slot above the handle on his door. Green lights flashed and the door opened easily. More electronics he thought. Today we always seem to be getting beeped at or have little lights flashing in our eyes.
As he entered his hotel room he did what he automatically does in his office. He looked to the phone to see if the message light was flashing. He certainly did not expect a message here, but to his dismay and surprise the red light was indeed flashing on the telephone. In a new-fangled electronic way he was told to press a few keys and the soft voice of a recorded message eventually whispered into his ear.
“Dr. O’Neil, this is Ang Nyi-ma , your waiter from earlier this evening. I am so very sorry to bother you sir, but it would be most helpful for me to speak with you. Can you call me on my cell phone? Again, I am very sorry but your assistance would be greatly appreciated and I cannot be very public about what I have to share.”
Francis keyed in the cell phone number and received an immediate “hello” from the other side. “This is Brother Francis, aka Dr. O’Neil, returning your call.”
An intense voice responded with, “I have some information which might be helpful to both of us if you have a few moments to spare. May I come to your room, Doctor?”
“Yes, that will be fine. I’m a little too excited to sleep this evening, and our flight out is not until tomorrow afternoon at two-thirty.”
“Very good, sir, I am just getting off work. I will be at your door in about fifteen minutes if that is acceptable.”
Francis assured the young man that it was and they hung up. The monk took out a black leather bound zipper case containing his Office Book through which he celebrated the Liturgy of the Hours when traveling. He sat quietly in a corner and silently prayed the Office of Compline, Night Prayer. As he prayed the final prayer of this part of the daily Office, the words which he had sung or said thousands of times over the last forty years seemed to be more alive to him than ever.
“Let us pray: Visit this house O Lord, drive far from it all the deadly power of the enemy. May your holy angels dwell here to guard us in peace, and may your blessing rest upon us always. Amen.”
As the traveling monk whispered his last “amen,” of the day, there was a soft rap on his door. Francis peered through the viewer on the door and saw a nervous young Asian man standing in the hallway, complete with the white shirt and black pants of a waiter with which he was dressed in the hotel dining room. Francis unchained the door and welcomed the young gentlemen in. They sat at either side of a small round table, which held a lamp. The young man introduced himself as Ang Nyi-ma.
“Can you tell me, sir, how I might address you? I saw from hotel records that you are listed as Dr. Francis O’Neil, and yet you referred to yourself as ‘Brother Francis’ on the phone.”
“Both names are correct my friend. I am a Catholic monk and have no desire to hide that fact. When I travel to Communist countries I sometimes use ‘Dr. O’Neil,’ because it just makes things simpler moving through airports and security. I am what I am and will take whatever consequences entail wherever I go. If I can avoid it, however, I don’t want to wind up being interrogated or sitting somewhere in a room with an airport or police official for hours unnecessarily.”
“Truly the Buddha has sent you to me.” The young man spoke with astonishment. Mixed with his expression of astonishment was joy and relief. That is what I have come to talk to you about Brother Francis.”
“I’m sorry; I’m not following you. What is it you want to talk to me about?”
“I want to talk to you about some monastic people. My two aunts are Buddhists nuns in Lhasa. I myself am from Nepal, my parents being from Tibet originally, but leaving there when the country was being taken over in the late fifties.”
“I see” said the Abbot. It is most interesting to speak with you and I am happy that we have made the acquaintance of one another, but I’m not sure what your family tree has to do with me.”
“My father, after a hard life, is now deceased. My mother lives in Nepal very quietly and scratches out a living by guiding people to various temples and shrines in Nepal. My two aunts, her sisters, are in Lhasa. One of them lives in a nunnery and another lives in a tiny house by herself, though both are nuns. The latter has been politically active and very vocal about human rights issues. For this she had been in prison for a number of years and after her release finds it most appropriate to live by herself, not trying to draw attention to her larger nunnery.”
Francis listened with the ear of his heart. “Your two aunts are in some danger then. I take it that your mother is also in danger.”
The waiter’s head bobbed vigorously, “Yes, Brother Francis, all three are in danger I believe. You see, there is a small metal object used in Tibetan Buddhist prayer services called a Dorje. One particular Dorje has been the property of my parents for many years and was taken out of Tibet with them when they fled.
“Through Internet searches I have learned that the Dorje, which is kept in my mother’s house, is of great interest to many people. I myself do not understand what the attraction to this family Dorje is. Whatever is going on, I am wondering if it will attract unsavory characters to my mother.
“I do not know how much of this is simply all in my head and how much is real danger. I would certainly leave at once to be with her if I thought danger was truly at hand. Working as a waiter and going to graduate school, I just about have airfare back to Nepal if it becomes necessary.”
“Your aunts live in a type of chronic danger I suppose,” Brother Francis ruminated out loud.
“That is correct, sir, but when my mind starts to wonder about the matter, I wonder if that Dorje would bring bad luck to not only my mother but to her sisters as well.”
“If you write down the names and addresses of everyone I will see what I can do to find some information for you. I have never been to this part of the planet before and don’t know if I will even be able to find them, but I will gladly do what I can. Please write your name address and cell phone number down as well.”
“This relieves me so very much, Brother. How can I thank you?”
“Just hold us in your thoughts and prayers, Ang. Our group of six friends is going on a pilgrimage to learn about Tibetan medicine and the spirituality of Asia.”
“I am so pleased,” said the young man, with a look of relief on his face and even more of it in his voice, “to have met you. I am also pleased to learn about ecumenism, and now to experience it personally. I have been to some Christian churches with friends of mine since I’ve been here in the United States. I hear them talk about respecting the differences in spiritual traditions and celebrating and enjoying all that we share in common. This, to me, is what the Buddha talked about. I believe, if I am correct, that Jesus spoke in much the same fashion.”
Francis smiled. If only the rest of the world could understand this and have the wisdom of this young person. All would truly be well.
The events of the day danced through Brother Francis’ dreams during the night. By dawn, even though he had a three-hour jet lag, Francis was wide-awake and ready to face the day. He threw back the heavy drapes in the hotel room and greeted the rising sun and a Los Angeles expressway far below.
After a shower and shave, Brother Francis did a little yoga and prayed his Liturgy of the Hours. He then sat in meditation for about an hour.
The phone beeped at him. He picked it up, only to hear Mani asking him where the heck he was. He would be right down for breakfast he assured her.
Breakfast was quick and delicious. The travelers ate well because they wanted to have lots of energy for the arduous journey ahead. On the way out of the dining room they each took a piece of fruit from a large crockery fruit bowl in anticipation of eating that when food might be scarce. As Francis picked up a pear, he saw Ang out of the corner of his eye, just leaving a table he had served. Ang gracefully joined his hands together in front of his heart and gave a slight bow in Francis’ direction, then moved on to take the orders from another table full of breakfasters.
The hotel shuttle van was packed with luggage and people. An additional four people joined Francis and his five companions. Francis couldn’t help wondering if he had seen one or two of them somewhere before. Maybe it was just around the hotel, he thought, trying to reassure himself. Within minutes they were on the grounds of one of the largest airports in the world, commonly known as LAX. The international terminal looked like the Epcot Center at Disney World. People spoke a variety of languages and were dressed in various garbs. The travelers stood in several long lines and had their luggage searched and x-rayed.
The fascination with the lively and colorful atmosphere of the international terminal made the time go by quickly and it was even enjoyable. Once the group had passed through security and found the gate from which their Thai Airways plane would leave, they found a restaurant and had a light lunch. Several people in the group ordered a type of Asian noodle soup, which was consumed through a process of using chopsticks and drinking from a bowl.
“Might as well practice” smiled Krishna, who was quite comfortable eating with his hands and drinking from a soup bowl as he did in India during his youth--and still did with his family. They wandered back to the gate and very shortly began boarding. The plane was quite visible through the gate windows and it looked to be the size of a football field.
Brother Francis smiled to himself as he thought of his dear sister-in-law who claimed that flying is “unnatural.” She resisted doing it whenever she could.
The flight attendants were more than enough to put anyone at ease. Their gentle Thai mannerisms and smiles melted one’s heart instantly. The women were dressed in traditional Thai garments, colorful and simple. The male flight attendants had gray blazers on with the emblem of Thai Airways--a small orchid embroidered on the pockets with orchid colored thread.
The movie screens lit up with information about what to do in the event of an emergency. This was followed by something unusual for Western travelers. A video about various exercises of the legs and feet was presented. In the video people were encouraged to walk around and to drink lots of fluids. Clearly the health of those who were flying was an important issue for this airline. Asian music wafted through the cabins as the plane taxied down the runway. Almost imperceptibly, the enormous aircraft lifted off the ground and soared into the silver / blue sky.
After chatting and napping for a while, Francis took out his Walkman and began listening to a Mrs. Pollifax mystery book on tape. Little did he know that he was about to star in his own next mystery.
Day and night began to merge into one as Francis felt that somewhat familiar feeling of being half awake and needing a shave. I must be going to Asia again. As Francis walked up and down the aisles periodically, he spotted some Buddhists monks and nuns on the plane. He recognized by their maroon garb and shaved heads that they had vowed their life to seeking Buddhahood by developing compassion for all sentient beings. This indeed was the quest of all Buddhist monastics.
The monastic life is found in all cultures, Francis thought. Even though my master is Jesus and theirs is the Buddha, there is a deep bond between us. There is also a respect for the masters of one another. Thank God for Vatican Council II which encourages such mutual respect and common bonding.
The people in the aircraft did various things to help the time pass. Some people slept, some people tried to immerse themselves in the movies that were being shown. After a few hours, there was not much talking. There would be a brief layover in Bangkok, and by the time they got to Kathmandu, they would have been on the road or in the air for about twenty-four hours.
After a series of meals and movies, interspersed with Mrs. Pollifax, breakfast dishes were cleared and the announcement to prepare for landing was made. The female flight attendants had exchanged their Thai garb for simpler suits of clothing by this time and were stationed throughout the aircraft to assist with passenger exiting.
The six members of the mystery team commented to one another that the flight went well as they exited. Flo, however, said, “It’s okay if you don’t mind feeling like you’ve been hit with a truck several times over.” They all had a good laugh, even though as a group they felt light-headed and half asleep.
They moved through immigration without incident. Their passports were stamped and given back to them and they made their way into a sea of people in the airport lobby. Many people held cardboard signs up in the air with the last name of travelers or groups. Eventually Mani spotted a man in his forties with mahogany skin and a bright smile holding a cardboard sign with beautiful script spelling out: “Healing Journey to Tibet.”
They gently elbowed there way through the crowd and over to the man who would be their guide in Nepal for nearly a week. The smiling gentlemen introduced himself as Karma. He explained that his name means “work” but the group knew that there was a much deeper meaning to Karma and let it go at that for the moment.
Each of the members pushed individual steel carriages with suitcases on them. Once in a while they would collide with one another, or with another traveler going in the opposite direction. They found a medium sized and very well used van in the parking. Karma unlocked the van and helped them load. They rumbled along the parking lot and Flo mumbled something about them not believing in shock absorbers in Nepal. Clearly this woman needed a shower and a nap!
The hotel was simple, but warm and welcoming. Located on a busy street in the heart of the capital of Nepal, it was clean, had running hot and cold water, and very well used beds.
Karma suggested that the group try to stay up until evening so that each person would begin to get into the biorhythms of this part of the world. If one were not able to manage that, he suggested that the nap be very brief. The six weary travelers made their way up to the second floor.
Dave and Chantal found their room easily. Across the hall was a room for Flo and Mani. Next to that Krishna and Francis had a room.
A shower and stretching revived Krishna and Francis. They thought alike in many ways and their biorhythms were similar as well even though they were separated by some twenty years, Francis being the elder. Some tea drinking and chatting followed a brief walk. Then it was time for sleep for everyone. The next day held much in store. Francis slept uneasily, still trying to adjust to yet another time zone—this one half way around the world.
The group met in the lobby after breakfast the next morning and Karma took them in the van to the holiest shrine of the Hindu culture in Nepal, Pashupatinath. They drove through a broad valley at the edge of the Himalayan range. The architecture was a blended manifestation of Hindu and Buddhist spirituality. Before long they reached the Hindu temple.
The temple was located on the Bagmati River, where many prayer services and cremations are carried out. If one is not a Hindu then one is not allowed in the temple. In his usual caring style, Krishna forsook going into the temple, even though as a devout Hindu he could do so. He stayed with the rest of the group on the opposite side of the river, which looks over at the temple. Looking down across the river a group of people surrounded the corpse of a woman clothed in red. Her son was dressed in white robes and chanted the appropriate prayers for the cremation ritual. The body was ignited.
We watched the flames and wondered to ourselves. Are we really here watching a cremation? In that frame of mind a monkey suddenly leaped out of a tree and landed on a large platter full of fruit being carried by a woman dressed in a beautiful rose sari. She screamed as the monkey grabbled the banana and toppled the tray of fruit. The monkey screamed back and hopped up into a tree before anyone could react. Everyone nearby helped the woman gather her fruit offering and dusted off her clothing and feelings as best could be done. She smiled gratefully as her startled response turned into laughter. Though we did not speak the language of one another, except for Krishna, we were one during that incident and shared the common language of laughter.
We saw a variety of holy saddhus praying and meditating. Some of them appeared genuine; others appeared to be putting on a show for travelers to make some money. One saddhu of indeterminate age let his long hair fall down practically to the ground when he saw us. He raised up his left leg and wrapped it around the back of his neck somehow, and balanced himself by holding on to a sword which touched the ground to his left.
After our morning experience and a brief lunch we headed for the holiest shrine in the Buddhist culture in Nepal, known as Boudnath. This is a place of pilgrimage for many devout Buddhists, something like Jerusalem for people of the Jewish tradition. In the center of town is a large stupa, a white washed dome as large as several city blocks with a point on the top. Such stupas contain the remains or relics of famous Lamas. Devout pilgrims were circumambulating, walking around the stupa over and over again. Some prostrated themselves repeatedly.