The lure of marrying an American

On Sunday, I attended a most unusual wedding. A 43-year-old California man married a 22-year-old Tibetan woman. The two had only met ten days earlier. Arranged marriages like this are typically done for immigration purposes only, but this was, by all accounts, a love marriage that happened to be arranged. The arranger was a prominent Tibetan Buddhist teacher. The woman was his niece and the man was his close disciple. The man looked just like Johnny Depp and taught meditation to juvenile offenders in Oakland. The woman was stunningly beautiful with a million dollar smile and a joyful demeanor. She was still studying at the high school level at a Tibetan refugee camp in Northern India, but spoke English with ease.

A wild, old Tibetan man officiated the ceremony with a series of prayers, mantras and well-wishes to the couple. The groom’s brother, who looked like a Madame Tussauds Wax Museum replica of Brad Pitt in his Seven Years in Tibet role, then led the couple through the exchange of vows and rings (minus the kissing the bride part, which would have been culturally inappropriate). They did cut a cake and put pieces in each other’s mouths, which was viewed with puzzled amazement by the Tibetan family of the bride.

The Tibetan word for wedding can literally be translated as “setting for drinking beer” and so, naturally, we then commenced with several hours of beer drinking and merriment. After the feast, we settled down for a series of animated games of Uno, the classical Mattel card game of numbers and colors. Luck was on my side that day, and I managed to win five games.

I have been asked to marry people in South Asia for immigration purposes several times. The first happened in 2000, when I stayed at a Tibetan refugee camp in South India. I became well-acquainted with a married Tibetan couple and their young son. We exchanged phone numbers and addresses and when I returned to the U.S., a strange letter awaited. The man had managed to get refugee asylum in the U.S., but his wife was not able to join him. The wife therefore wrote me directly to ask that I marry her so she can come to the U.S. too. She included a sexy photograph of herself as well, which struck me as a little strange considering she was already happily married and wanted to marry me only so she could be with her husband. After consulting with some people, I decided against the proposal.

When you marry someone for immigration purposes so they can come to the U.S., you invariably have to do a lot of lying, some of which is at the felony level. I have several friends who have gone through with it anyway, knowing they can divorce after five years and still help the foreigner out. To have the marriage accepted by the Department of Immigration, both parties have to go through intense grilling and scrutiny. You are sometimes asked intimate questions about the other’s genitals and sexual prowess to see if you hesitate or answer as naturally as someone who is already married. If they are convinced you are lying and don’t really know or love your supposed spouse, they may reject the marriage and send the spouse back to their home country. The American could also get jail time if their lying can be proven.
Someone I know recently arranged an immigration marriage between an American and a Tibetan girl. When the two met, they decided that they liked each other and would try it out as a legitimate love marriage. A friend of mine who used to live in the same house with them said they do a lot of quarreling, but they are still together.

Sometimes, foreigners will marry Nepali women for their own immigration purposes. My European friend has a fake Nepali wife arranged through an agent whom he has no relations with. Thanks to the arrangement, he can get a year-long Nepali visa for only $10 a month that can be renewed each year. A typical visa costs $60 a month and is only valid for 5 months. For her trouble, the Nepali girl receives a salary and can be granted a divorce when she is ready to settle down for real.

One of my friends on the Nepal program in 1999/2000 married her Nepali trekking guide after they fell in love. She moved back with him to Milwaukee, where they fell out of love after a few months and separated. Both of them later remarried and lived happily ever after in the U.S.

Many people here have an obsession with going to the U.S. to work. In their minds, it is glamorous and lucrative and as soon as they touch down on U.S. soil, they will be able to start raking it in. Most of them don’t realize that working illegally on a tourist visa can get you deported and rarely pays above minimum wage. They also don’t tend to factor in the astronomical cost of living in the U.S., which is easily 10 times that of Nepal. (You can buy a meal at a restaurant here for 70 cents and get a decent hotel room for $2.50). The airfare to the U.S. is also around 5 times the annual income for a Nepali (not an exaggeration). The success stories of “a friend of a friend” who went to the U.S. on a tourist visa and is now thriving are enough to keep the American dream alive and well in the hearts of Nepalis and keep immigration marriage requests coming for Americans throughout the Nepal.

In memory of Jeanne Larson

January 14th marked the three year anniversary of my mother’s passing. I happen to live near one of the most sacred sights in the world for Tibetan Buddhists, the Boudhanath Stupa, and to mark the occasion lit 200 butter lamps in her memory. Butter lamps are similar to candles, consisting of a copper base with butter as a fuel instead of wax and a wick in the middle. They are not tall like regular candles, but rest sturdily in their bases. They are offered for the benefit of the living or the deceased at sacred Buddhist places around the world.

My mother’s name is Jeanne Larson and she left a lasting legacy in the fields of nutrition, environmental activism, and peace work in the region where she lived, Northwestern Wisconsin.

In the field of nutrition, she held a Master’s Degree from the University of Bridgeport and worked as an allergy nutritionist at an ENT clinic. She wrote a prolific amount of literature on various topics related to nutrition in a series of pamphlets that asserted that eating whole, healthy foods is the most effective medicine to prevent and treat illnesses. On January 14th, 2007, she asked my father, Lynn, to drive to a friend’s house 12 miles away to deliver some nutritional literature the woman had requested to help her manage an illness.

In the field of environmental activism, she wrote countless letters to the editors of local newspapers to speak out against polluting SUV’s and snowmobiles in the area and promote environmental awareness and living in harmony with nature. She had a popular series of note cards called Down to Earth which paired her own photography of nature scenes with quotations taken from poets and philosophers. She launched her note card business from scratch and made sure to use recycled paper and biodegradable packaging at every stage. They were sold at stores throughout Bayfield County, Wisconsin. On January 14th, 2007, she stepped out of the house onto the deck for her daily ritual of greeting the sun and breathing in the fresh, clean air of our Cable, Wisconsin farm.

In the field of peace work, she was a founding member of Stop Project ELF and several local peace groups. Project ELF (ELF stands for extremely low frequency) was a communication base that gave orders to the U.S.’s nuclear-armed submarines by sending electric signals through the ground to receiving towers in remote areas. It was based near our home. Jeanne spoke at and helped to organize annual Mother’s Day rallies at Project Elf for over 20 years. All that worked paid off when Project ELF was shut down about five years ago. Jeanne also worked with her friend Marge to create a book called Seeds of Peace: A Catalogue of Quotations (1986), which was featured at the United Nations Book Store in New York. On January 14th, 2007, she traveled over 20 miles with my father to attend a meeting of Peace North, a peace advocacy group based in Hayward, Wisconsin. Later that year, Peace North dedicated the bus trip they took to Washington, D.C. to Jeanne, and marched at an anti-war rally in her memory.


On the evening of January 14th, 2007, after a full day that included attending my father’s church service and singing some of her favorite hymns, Jeanne sat down in her favorite chair and gazed out the window one last time at the apple tree in our front yard. She looked around her office at pictures of her favorite people and her favorite images from nature, and closed her eyes for the last time. She died peacefully with a smile on her face, knowing she had lived a full life and made a difference in the lives of countless people. I think of her every day as I, too, try to realize that peace of mind and foster the compassion and skill necessary to help others.

1.6.09 from Kathmandu: Snowy Paradise

Helambu is heaven on Earth. In the book I put together called Compassionate Action, I have a chapter on this region, which the Tibetans call Yolmo. It is considered a paradise for Buddhist practice. Ian Baker discussed this region with Chatral Rinpoche, and he wrote, “Beyond Yolmo’s visible terrain of mountains, streams and forests, (Chatral Rinpoche) said, lies an inner level corresponding to the flow of intangible energies in the physical body. Deeper still, the subtle elements animating the environment merge with the elements present within the practitioner—the secret level. Finally, at the innermost level lies a paradisiacal dimension revealed through an auspicious conjunction of person, place and time. Chatral Rinpoche contended that this is not merely a metaphor for the enlightened state, but an ever-present, if hidden, reality.”

Chatral Rinpoche wrote about Yolmo, “…Surrounded by moats of water and walls of earth and rock, graced perpetually by clouds, mist and rain, the valley is naturally sealed from the outer world. If from among hundreds there are a few endeavoring to practice Dharma from their hearts, I say ‘Come to this place for the attainment of Buddhahood in this life.’”

It sounded like a perfect place to spend my New Year’s holiday.

On December 31st, I woke up at 1 a.m. to a strange sound—a heavy downpour. It only rains in December in Kathmandu “once in a blue moon.” Sure enough, on the blue moon day, it rained heavily. This was great news for me, because it meant that up in the mountains, where I was headed, there would be plenty of fresh snow to greet me.

I left the monastery at 5 a.m. and walked an hour in the dark to the bus stand. I had no idea what was in store for me. It turns out the $1.50 for the 5 hour bus ride was like putting six quarters into a mechanical bull riding machine at a bar in Texas. The single-lane mountain road descending into the mountain valley of Helambu had gigantic ruts and potholes throughout, made worse by the fresh rain. I bumped my head on the bus ceiling no fewer than five times. Once, when the guy next to me got up from his seat, the seat itself flew up about 3 feet in the air and onto the bus floor.

I survived the ordeal and met a local man who was going in the same direction as I, a village called Tarkegyang. It was 3 straight hours of uphill climbing, but the waterfalls and spectacular mountain scenery eased the pain in my legs and lungs. I was delighted to discover plenty of snow in my village, and after checking into my hotel, got to work making a snowman. I usually try to build an epic snow creature at least 9 feet high (one of which made the front page of a local newspaper in Northern Wisconsin two years ago), but since dark was fast approaching, I scaled it down a bit.

My quaint lodge, called Mountain View, offered a room for $1.35. I was the only guest and become well acquainted with the lodge owner, who thankfully spoke Tibetan. (Most people in this mountainous area speak a unique dialect that combines Tibetan and Nepali). He cooked up a New Year’s Eve feast for me that included steamed dumplings stuffed with cabbage picked fresh from his snowy garden, an omelet, and a pint of Everest beer. I am quite fond of games, especially around the holidays, so he taught me a popular Nepali card game called Marriage. The game involves three full decks of cards and took me three full nights to learn. By the end of my stay, I became quite adept at the game and managed to score a 45 in one game, which was considered by the hotel owner to be quite an achievement.

That night it descended into single digits Fahrenheit, but I stayed warm with six layers of clothing, a heavy-duty sleeping bag, and a thick blanket to top things off. The next morning, I set out on a steep, snowy trail that would take me to Chatral Rinpoche’s famous three-year retreat center in a place called Lhakang. The trail was very peaceful and quiet, with the only disturbance coming from the machine-gun fluttering of a family of mountain grouse. As I reached the mountaintop and began my descent to Lhakang, I met a menacing-looking local mountain man with a curved machete prominently displayed on his belt. He confirmed I was on the right trail and I soon arrived at a cascading stream, where I had my lunch. I entered Chatral Rinpoche’s compound and was greeted by a huge black yak. Must be the security guard. As I came close, he threatened me with his horns, and so I took a detour to get around him.


As I circumambulated the temple, I saw something strange in the distance—a couple of large white monkeys! I didn’t think there were monkeys in the Nepali mountains and was quite perplexed. I heard some people chanting prayers in the distance and continued past the helicopter landing area to a row of ancient stupas. Below me, a large herd of goats ran over to their feeding troths. As I descended to the edge of the compound, I was greeted by a wild-looking Tibetan man with a dragon shirt named Sangye (Buddha in Tibetan). He was very friendly and invited me for lunch. When I gave him a copy of Compassionate Action, he jumped around joyfully like a leprechaun. He made me a delicious dish with fried potatoes, vegetables and yak cheese and introduced me to the other retreatants there. One man, who looked very much like a young Chatral Rinpoche, had been there 10 years. He told me that Chatral Rinpoche last came here in the spring of 2005 and that there was no longer a lama in the compound, so they were more or less doing their 3-year retreats on their own.

My new friends asked me to take some pictures of the thriving goat herd to give to Chatral Rinpoche, and they gathered all 88 goats from their respective fields for the photo shoot. They were all male goats, and so did a lot of head butting as they sparred at the feeding troth. We then walked up to the temple and they gave me a tour. Chatral Rinpoche’s portrait was painted on the wall along with his root teacher and the main figures of the Longchen Nyingthig lineage. There were also Buddhist figures important to the region painted on the wall. Chatral Rinpoche is known for embracing the local culture in addition to flawlessly preserving his own Tibetan Buddhist lineages. The Hindu/Buddhist shrine he built in Pharping in 2008 is an example of that.

My friends built a small snowman and we all posed for a photo in front of it. I hope to return next fall for a one-month retreat if I can get the necessary permissions. They gave me one of their goat herding sticks and it seemed to possess magic powers to prevent fatigue. The same hill that had taken me 45 minutes to climb down took me 30 minutes to climb straight up.

That New Year’s Day Evening I took a photo of the full moon that I had no idea my digital Powershot SX10 camera was capable of. I admit, I am quite proud of my 80x zoom. To celebrate the photographic achievement (and the New Years of course) I invented an exotic mountain drink that combined hot chocolate and a locally made coffee liqueur called Mustang Roksi.
The next day, I climbed to the top of the highest mountain in the area, and thanks to the magic stick was able to climb it one hour faster than local estimates. A Guru Padmasambhava stupa topped the peak of the mountain and circumambulating it, you could see mountain ranges in every direction. I have captured that on video here. I spent four hours doing meditation and prayers there (and taking pictures of course), the best of which you can see here.I made a smoke/incense offering in the large burner by the stupa and repaired a number of prayer flags that had been knocked down by the wind. This mountaintop felt like home to me and may very well be my favorite place in the world.


The next morning, I descended toward the river to visit a cave that Milarepa had meditated in. Milarepa is the most famous Tibetan-born Buddhist of all time and you can read about him here. I meditated in his cave for ½ hour after offering a large butter lamp (Buddhist candle) and it was easily the most poignant meditation of my life. Thanks to being supercharged by this experience (and with the magic stick of course), I made it from the cave to my destination (Thimbu, where I caught my bus) in less than half the time estimated by the locals.

Yolmo is truly a paradise for Buddhist practitioners and I will do whatever I can to return in the fall.

12.28.09 from Kathmandu: Monks and Blood-Guzzling Dogs

Many people have asked me what a monk is. Do they get married? Are they highly evolved spiritual beings? How do they become monks? Who supports them?

Monks are by definition celibate and live in monasteries away from society. Some of the monks here are orphans, some of them were sent by their parents to receive an education, and a handful came here because they wanted to pursue the spiritual life. They are supported by local and foreign patrons of the monastery, and some by their families. They receive spending money when they are asked by a sponsor, for instance, to say prayers for a deceased or ill family member.

Monks are students in a same-gender boarding school, which happens to focus on religious topics such as rituals, prayers, meditation, and philosophy. As you know, I teach them English and they sometimes receive other kinds of secular instruction as well. As with any school, you have your students who would rather play than learn, and those who have an insatiable intellectual curiosity. The former often times become householders when they reach their 20’s and they have received an education. The latter may stay on and get the equivalent of a Ph.D. in Buddhism at a Buddhist University or a monastery study program and become teachers or leaders for the next generation of monk-students or Western Buddhist students.

Every Friday is song day in my middle school class, and over Christmas I taught them such classics as Frosty the Snow Man and Jingle Bells. Along with singing the songs, we had highly animated dance moves choreographed for every verse. If I would’ve brought my video camera, it may well have become the biggest YouTube sensation since the Philippino prison workers did the Michael Jackson Thriller dance. Maybe next time.

The most notorious resident of the monastery is Kali, a ferocious black dog that bites pretty much everyone not wearing a monk’s robe. The dog’s name comes from the Hindu Goddess Kali, who is considered to be the most avid blood guzzler in the universe. In Nepal, Hindus kill many thousands of goats, sheep, buffalo, and chickens at her shrines and spray the blood on her statue to satiate her thirst. In the movie Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, all of the blood sacrifices that go on, including human sacrifices, are done in her honor.

Kali the dog has seen me many times per day every day for about two months, but still can’t resist lunging at me for a good leg munch once in a while. I thought we had a truce going until I came home one evening last week from my friend’s house. The other three dogs recognized me and didn’t bother getting up from the chairs they were laying in. About 3 feet from the hallway of the building I lived, Kali jumped up and clamped her chompers right into the back of my knee. I yelled at her and took a swing with my foot. My shoe was not all the way on, and flew off my foot about 30 feet into the air to the top of the monastery roof. The monastery caretaker intervened and helped to subdue the seemingly rabid demon-dog, but not before I had a painful wound on my leg. I now carry a stick to ward off attack.

12.23.09 from Kathmandu: Pharping

I first heard about Thinley Norbu Rinpoche in 2004 from my friend Adam in Nepal. I was told he was an other-worldly, amazing spiritual master, but kind of scary at the same time because of his dynamic energy and powers. It was rumored that it was nearly impossible to meet him now days, because of his advanced age, reclusive nature, and protective students. I was intrigued. Thinley Norbu Rinpoche arrived in Nepal last month, amidst much fanfare to inaugurate a monastery. An arch was constructed over the main highway in Kathmandu next to the airport to display a message welcoming him. Even though he was at the monastery leading ceremonies, it was still “not possible” to meet him according to various sources. I basically gave up on the prospect and assumed that he left the country while I was in Malaysia. While at my Tibetan friend’s bookstore last week, however, I heard from my British friend that he was still at the monastery for a few more days.

Last Friday, I hopped on a bus to Pharping, the town where I lived during the fall of 2004. The bus was packed and the roof was only 5’10” tall (plenty high for the average Nepali), so I had to stand in a bent position for the bumpy 2 hour ride. I was very happy to see my old town again and went to the guesthouse I had stayed five years earlier to get my $4/night room. I then walked to the home of one of Chatral Rinpoche’s close disciples to get some advice on the best way to make offerings to Chatral Rinpoche (who no longer meets people). He kindly asked his wife to drive me to Chatral Rinpoche’s home to set up an appointment with Chatral Rinpoche’s daughter.

Later that evening, I walked to the spectacular new monastery with offerings in hand and joined about 200 others in the beautifully decorated temple. We read through a Tibetan offering prayer that went on for about 90 minutes and featured melodious chanting and many prayers I was familiar with. Thinley Norbu Rinpoche had not made an appearance during these nightly prayers for three days. As the ceremony neared the end, I looked to my left and an elderly man walked into the monastery wearing large trekking boots and a huge poofy jacket. He had amazing long hair that made him look like a mystical wizard. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that this was the great Thinley Norbu Rinpoche. He walked around for a while to inspect the offerings and sat for a few minutes in his throne in the front before leaving through the back door. We all assumed that was the last we would see of him that day.

After the ceremony, I asked one of his assistants if I could meet him, and naturally, was told it was not possible, but I could get my mala blessed if I put it in a bag. I filled the bag with an offering, ceremonial white scarf, and a copy of my book on Chatral Rinpoche to accompany the mala and gave it to the assistant. As I walked into the courtyard, I noticed everyone was frozen and looking in awe at something in the distance. Thinley Norbu Rinpoche was talking with some friends of his close disciples. His five person security detail was not pleased with all the loitering students and asked them to “keep it moving.” I managed to drift back and wait for the right opportunity to meet the great master. I made it through a few layers of security and then spoke in Tibetan with one of his guards to ask if I could listen to the Dharma talk he was giving to one of the people he was meeting. This was the “secret password” and got me within a few feet of the legend.

I managed to get in line with some “special exceptions” to the doesn’t-meet-anyone rule (such as a child with a terminal illness) and prepared my offering. As my turn came, I introduced myself and presented him with a copy of my book, which featured old photos of his father Dudjom Rinpoche, and a chapter on the relationship his father had with Chatral Rinpoche. He seemed genuinely interested and asked me where I was from. He made a joke that my name Zach sounded wrathful. I shook his hand and pressed it to my head for a rare blessing and he put a white scarf around my neck. I thanked him and floated the two miles back to my guesthouse in the pitch dark.

The next morning, I get up early to meet with Chatral Rinpoche’s daughter and delivered 25 copies of the book Compassionate Action for her to distribute to his English-speaking disciples. She asked for my help publishing a few books of one of Chatral Rinpoche’s Western disciples and I gratefully received a protection cord, blessed pills, a holy text, and other sacred objects.

After breakfast, I hired a local man to take me to all the monasteries and holy sights in Pharping. Many spectacular photos can be found here.

I took the bus home in a way more accommodating to my height, by riding on the storage rack on the roof with about 50 Nepalis in their 20’s. Aside from the tree branches that regularly brushed our heads as we descended the mountain road, it was an enjoyable ride that offered a beautiful view of the Himalayas and the countryside.

12.14.09 from Kathmandu Part Three: Malayasia

We had an early flight to Malaysia and I decided to enjoy the Hong Kong nightlife instead of sleeping. I developed this tradition in Norway when I was visiting my relatives there in 2003, deciding to party all night with friends and relatives instead of sleeping prior to an early flight.

I was put in charge of supervising 8 monks and keeping tract of their whereabouts during the 9 days, taking them to restaurants for their meals and making sure they got to various places at various times. The problem was, we were staying at a hotel attached to one of the largest shopping malls in the world and the monks wanted to explore the entire 4 square mile, 4 floor complex on their own. Many of them did not know English and I felt it was pretty much guaranteed they would get hopelessly lost if they wandered as they wished. Therefore, I had to do a lot of monk-herding, which incidentally, is similar to cat herding. The only advantage I had was their maroon robes, which caused them to stand out from the typical teenage girl shopper crowd.

The second day I was there, I found out I was being appointed the Master of Ceremonies for the two-day teaching and that the crowd was expected to exceed 600 people. I had to write my script the next day (introducing and transitioning the various teachings and activities planned for each day), learn it, and then report to the venue at 7 a.m. the following morning to practice with my counterpart, the Chinese language emcee. We worked well together, despite the fact that she was 18 inches shorter than me. My opening line, “gooooood mooorning laaaadies and gentlemen” was a favorite among the monks and they would repeat it back to me in their best Zach impersonation throughout the trip.

One of the speakers the first day was Grand Feng Shui Master Yap Cheng Hei, who was a beautiful old man with a sharp sense of humor and a comprehensive knowledge of the ancient Chinese art of Feng Shui. After his talk, I went around the audience with my cordless mic and took questions. Somehow, the topic quickly turned to ghosts, as Master Yap was a “ghost whisperer.” People asked him about his experiences, and he described seeing “zombies with their eyes and half their brains hanging out” causing havoc in a house. He said he would say prayers for the ghost and then “give them a passport to heaven” after which they would no longer bother anyone.

During the day, I kept reminding the audience to submit questions for the evening Q&A session and boy did they respond. As the emcee, I sorted out which questions to pose to Master Yap and Shyalpa Rinpoche among the 50+ submitted. Some were very personal, such as “what do you do when your husband cheats on you and beats you but you don't want to get a divorce because it might harm the children?” Some were very abstract, “what is the difference between the experience and the experiencer?” And some were controversial and timely, “What is your view on same-sex marriage?” I managed to keep the questions coming to both teachers for 2 straight hours while keeping the audience engaged.

The next day featured a long life empowerment, which is always a big draw. Fortunately, in terms of crowd management, the people of Kuala Lampur are generally not devout Buddhists and were therefore not as eager as, say, devotees in Nepal to get such a blessing. Sometimes in Kathmandu, when crowds are not carefully contained for long life empowerments, near-stampedes occur when the blessings-starved people make a mad rush to the temple to receive the empowerment at the conclusion of the ceremony. This time, everything went smoothly. As the day was coming to an end, I orchestrated a group of 15 local Malaysian volunteers to hand out the blessed food (fruit and cookies) to the 650 people in the crowd.

The next day, the monks went to the homes of two wealthy patrons to perform ceremonies for their continued success in business and life. At one of the homes, I got a chance to watch my favorite football team, the Minnesota Vikings, perform live on television. Unfortunately, it was their worst game of the year by far and they lost in disgraceful fashion.

After 7 days in the mall, we were ready to get out and see Malaysia. We chartered a large van and went on a 12-hour tour. The first stop was a major Hindu pilgrimage place featuring huge caves that had temples and images of the gods inside. Many pictures of this awe-inspiring place can be found here.

At the top of the climb to the stairs, a man with two large snakes awaits for those looking for photo props. I was such a person and the 30-pound yellow boa was placed around my neck. It was pretty nerve-wracking at first as it came toward my neck with its slithering tongue, but then became more relaxed and we were buds toward the end. You can watch a video of it here.

We then went into the heart of Kuala Lampur to the famous “Twin Towers”, which unlike the former Manhattan versions, are connected near the top with a walking bridge to enhance stability and functionality. They reigned as the highest in the world for a few years last decade.

After lunch came the highlight of the day, a trip to the beach. The monks changed out of their robes and into their beach shorts and we frolicked in the ocean. We then hired a speedboat to pull us on an inflatable device made for 7 people. One of the older monks was terrified but agreed to give it a try after much re-assuring that it was perfectly safe. We played a few games of beach soccer and enjoyed ice cream and cold drinks under the hot sun. We then headed back to the city for an hour and a half of laptop computer shopping for 3 of the monks in a chaotic technology-centric mall. Dinner didn’t come until after 9 p.m.

I was the group leader for the trip back to Nepal, so naturally continued my tradition of staying up the night before our early flight to be on the “top of my game.” Fortunately, though, the trip was without incident and a group of us even got a complimentary business class upgrade. We arrived in Nepal in the morning, and I spent the day sleeping and dreaming of my Southeast Asian adventure.

12.14.09 from Kathmandu Part Two: Hong Kong

We arrived in Hong Kong after a sleepless red eye flight via Dhaka, Bangladesh. As the plane touched down, we were quite surprised at the beautiful steep mountains and ocean bays that compose the city. Another surprise came when I saw how all-out our hotel was celebrating Christmas. Christmas music on loop, trees, lights, decorations everywhere. It apparently became an entrenched part of the culture during the 150 year British occupation, which ended in 1997. (China had given Britain a “lease” on the territory). We then enjoyed what is the Hong Kong uni-meal, enjoyed for breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks—“dim sum.” A multitude of small dishes are shared by the group. Unfortunately, Hong Kong is not a vegetarian friendly city and if you don’t eat exotic sea creature body parts (squid eyes anyone?), you don’t have many options in certain restaurants.

It took me a few days to recover from the sleeplessness/over-eating at Thanksgiving party, just in time for a spectacular tour of the city. We started at the ocean-side convention center and then climbed (by bus) to the highest point in Hong Kong. continued past Jackie Chan’s castle-like mansion and to the beach. Then came the marina and a fun boat ride (several pictures on my flickr account) to a floating restaurant aptly named Jumbo. After lunch, we proceeded to a nunnery and a lovely garden area, where we had grand views of the full moon. The evening concluded at the Walk of the Stars along the ocean, which features a life-like statue of Bruce Lee, Hong Kong’s most famous star.

The next day, we were in full event preparation mode for the launching of a nonprofit organization named after the Chinese Princess who was instrumental in bringing Buddhism to Tibet in the 6th century (Wencheng Gongzhu). The dinner took place at a fancy hotel ballroom and was designed to bring in large crowds of celebrities and influential Hong Kong residents. I could no longer get away with flip flops to match my suit and tie, so had to get some dress shoes. By some miracle, they had a size 13 available in the clearance section (though I had to settle for size 9 dress socks, which is as large as they come there).

Before the dinner started, I joined a team of 5 Tibetans to fold up 500 ceremonial silk scarves, which would be offered later to the Buddhist teacher. I was then informed I would be the teacher’s bodyguard, along with my Tibetan friend. I picked the teacher up at his room and brought him down the stairs onto the red carpet area, which was teeming with models, actresses, businessmen and even China’s top golfer. The tabloid photographers snapped away on the red carpet and the next day over a dozen carried photos and a short article on the dinner.

The dinner program started with a series of Tibetan dances. A group from India came to lend their talents, which was especially impressive during the snow lion dance. Two performers team up inside a snow lion costume and dance around the room while doing a comic routine. It has to be seen to believed and left many with their jaws on the floor. You can see the video here.

After the dances, Rinpoche spoke to the crowd about the organization and all came up to offer him traditional white scarves. We then worked until about 1 a.m. to clean up and pack up the stage decorations.

The last night in Hong Kong, I went out with my friend to the tourist bar district. There were hundreds of freelance prostitutes there from the Philippines and some from Thailand. At the bar, they would swarm the rich American and European businessmen, often 5-6 prostitutes per person. They got about 50% commission for each drink purchased for them at the bar and tried to arrange additional services beyond that as the night progressed. Fortunately for me, I was not dressed like a businessman and it was evident to the savvy prostitutes that I was not worth much. Some of them frowned in disgust when they found out I was a Buddhist helping out with a teaching rather than a CEO on a business trip. Despite this strange dynamic, the dance club we went to was fun and we met some nice people there.

Many good pictures of Hong Kong at my Flickr account.