Inbox (1). A message from Phra Greg. He welcomes me to spend the weekend with him and a colleague, Phra Fred. I thank and accept. He tells me to get to his place as early as possible the next day.
Phra, pronounced a bit like Praa, means monk in Thai and I’ve just arranged to live in a Buddhist temple, Wat Sri Boen-Ruang, based in Fang, some 100 miles north of Chiang Mai learning the monks’ humble ways. I wonder about these Phras, sitting on their computers in their orange robes. Are they PC types or do they use Macs? Do their Iphones or Androids have orange covers?
Casting my eyes over Phra Greg’s blog I notice something not mildly terrifying. Eating allowed only between 6am and midday. I unashamedly base my life around food so on the bus to Fang I plan carefully. I'll have a probiotic multivitamin for a starter, a malaria tablet as a main course and if I feel like dessert I'll feast on a mixture of ibuprofen and paracetamol.
There are some 200 000 monks in Thailand and almost 30 000 temples. “Ordaining isn’t for life. Monks are allowed to disrobe and get married, for instance. If they want to return to their life as a monk that's fine, they can stay married but they must then leave their married home,” explains Phra Fred, a former member of the British Army who converted to Buddhism long before it became en vogue for soft media-types to come on these retreats.
My routine here is simple. I wake up around 4.30am to meditate. I sport a white loose tunic and cotton Thai fisherman’s trousers popular with the Southeast Asian travelling and temple communities. During my fortnight in Thailand I’ve learnt to wear these trousers the right way round but the string holding them up still doesn’t fill me with confidence. After my meditation I follow the monks on their alms round. As we walk past the village markets the locals donate food receiving a blessing and good Karma, and in return the monks get their breakfast. After the morning chants Phra Fred teaches Buddhism and Phra Greg advises with a meditation type called Vipassana. Practice follows until it’s time for the evening chants and retiring to bed early. 
I take a surprise liking to meditation, especially the walking kind, where you try to concentrate your mind on the present by placing attention on the movement of your feet. I heard the term monkey brain in London; it refers to distracting thoughts when trying to focus. It turns out I have about 70 monkeys in my brain; disappointingly they like to think about mosquito bites, Facebook and food. “It’s normal, ask your friends, everyone’s minds are full,” says Pedro, a vet from Portugal who has been practicing meditation for over three years. “But when you start getting those split second moments of no thought...” he pauses, looking – well – serene. “Just stick to it for now, they’re worth trying for.” So I do, moving my bare feet along the concrete floor in my ascetic room until a loud cackle from the ceiling makes me jump. Coloured like a rat, the sound source is a large lizard. It’s probably habited this room longer than I and is used to observing others exercising this strange routine. Mind in the present I note my disgust and continue my slow zombie walk. The road to enlightenment will be long.
I’m not sure what my religion is but I’m humbled by the monks for opening the doors to theirs. I leave my short stay in the temple with a sense of discovery about Thai culture as well as Buddhism. Also, I now know it’s possible not to eat after midday. It’s a small example of how we get attached to external factors to lead the lives we’ve chosen. Buddha said: “One is one's own refuge, who else could be the refuge?” A philosophy or religion – potato patata – that relies on the mind and encourages to love every living being, seems valid in our 24-hour urban razzmatazz, like it did 2500 years ago.
So what was the first thing I did on my return to life as I know it? Buy a beer? Eat a pad thai? No. I braided my hair and bought a new pair of Thai fisherman’s trousers. "You know you'll only be able to wear those here. Back home you'll look like that person who went soul searching in Thailand," says Rachel as I demonstrate my fashion enlightenment. Oh really?
Phra Greg’s blog is at http://watsriboenruang.wordpress.com/
