Monastic Wilderness

The Korean Temple, Lumbini: A wonderful, donation only, oasis in the middle of Buddha's birth place. Nepal now; India then.

A great morning despite another crazy night – this time filled with very vivid dreams (despite being now at sea level) and wild noises rising from the savanna like grasses outside. I have just finished my yoga practice on the roof: Plenty of cement dust and poky pebbles causing havoc under the clouds of my yoga mat, but still it was possible to find a nourishing silence. The view in front of my sun salutations was of another temple in construction. The temple rose from a field of long grasses, nursing an equal amount of spider's webs.

The day took hours to rise above the foliage, leaving my asana's free from the sweat of the sun. It was only during the finishing poses that the resident old American woman called a Namaste out of the bars of her bathroom window. A few moments later two Indian ladies took their seats on the wall; observing, giggling and the shouting into their communal mobile phone. Their presence was preferable to the audience of Nepali men who had been pulling their chairs at six o'clock every morning in Kathmandu – front row seats from the roof opposite my guest house.

Now I am sitting on a large wooden bench (or maybe it is a low table or bed?!) outside of my down. My view is of the rubbley courtyard and then to my left stands the newly constructed Korean Temple – the reply to the massive Chinese Monastery recently completely opposite. The Temple appears like a ghost – void of all life and colour as it still waits for the funds to be raised for it to be painted and decorated. Its grey facade reflects the grey robes of the monks and nun, who also appear slightly lifeless as they creep around camouflaged by the walls, and wearing the same shadow uniform of a 'seeker', devoid of an individual identity or even of a sex. Heads shaved and voices lowered to what seems to be a constant 'physical and verbal bow'.

In contrast, or rather to balance, there is so much wild life around here. Perhaps because the Lumbini complex is protected from busy roads and trucks. Transport around the inside is limited to ones own legs – or those of someone else's - as bicycles and rickshaws bump up and down the sandy roads. The only buildings are monasteries – which still appear to be carefully planned and set in their own lush gardens, full of flowers, watered grasses and the coloured streaks of prayer flags.

It is a pretty unique place, which so far seems to have been spared the commercialisation of religion to the extent that there was not a 'charge' to entre the complex and the only 'souvenirs' for sale are piles of wooden malas and even a visit to the birth place of Buddha – the Maya Devi – cost only fifty rupees and came with a complementary history of the area by a keen park attendant.

Yesterday we rented bikes from the builders who work at the Korean Temple. Fifty rupees for the day and a perfect way to explore – peddling around, dodging potholes, rocks, baby cobras and small children. My little red bike was like am arm chair. It was comprised of a large padded seat, a rusted red frame and a highly erratic steering, leaving me swerving at every pile of soft sand (of which there were many). The horizon of long grasses and marsh land was interspersed with the maroon robes of the young monks, which flew and bumped across the mud roads as they raced each other on their own rented bikes. By far the most entertaining were three monks who had hired an entire rickshaw while the owner jogged along next to his hijacked carriage.

I am left wondering what sort of people visit this place? Foreign tourists seem to be limited to Chinese and Korean visitors. Or maybe they are just more visible as they tour in packs and with a united 'flash' as their cameras light up their curiosity . There are also an incredible amount of Indian visitors, as Buddha is considered to be the ninth reincarnation of the Hindu God Vishnu. According to the ticket seller at the Maya Devi, there are between 200-300 foreign tourists per day in comparison to the 2000-3000 Nepali and Indian visitors. I suppose that this ratio 'protects' the complex from certain development, as at the moment all that needs to be 'watered' are the lush gardens of the complex rather than people like me who demand gallons of water each day, waste disposal and a 'variety' of foods. For example, three times a day the Korean Temple provides a spread of food for a small donation. Everything from wholewheat rice with beans to curry, daal, three types of spinach, fruits and even sushi are served. But last night Bruno still complained that he wouldn't be able to eat at the Temple for more than a few days – he would need more of a 'choice'...

Meanwhile, I feel really grateful to have found the Korean Temple rather than to stay in some typically overpriced windowless room. Ironic as it may seem, it almost feels as if this is one of the few spaces left, where spirituality can be explored rather than exploited. Without its fancy churches or famous mosques, the entrance fees for the sacred sites are minimal, while if luxury resorts are present, they are well hidden. In fact, I feel really lucky to have 'found' Lumbini' before Buddhism explodes in popularity.

As the visitors to Dharamasala demonstrated, the search for an alternative style of spirituality is appealing to both the young and rich; Buddhist literature is exploring intellectual debates which the monolithic religions hide under the label of 'faith', while the Dalai Lama's dedication to peace and compassion highlights the failures of Western leaders. Yet with this continuing interest in Buddhism comes new incentives for religious commercialization through the vehicle of spiritual tourism. However it is not the Western countries who are solely responsible for this new 'development' of ancient Buddhist sites. Eastern countries are also beginning to explore the market of 'Buddhist package tours'. One particular example is of Korea. In the past nationalistic Koreans were encouraged to spend their vacations exploring their own country; yet now more and more of the younger generation, as well as the wealthier social groups, are beginning to explore foreign destination, with religious sites holding a particular appeal.

Whatever the direction of the hypothetic future, I feel privileged to be here now. I have really felt a sincere peace and moments of Reality in Lumbini. Moments where I have been able to feel the silence and energy of the nature, and this is a sensation which it is actually difficult to find even in the most 'remote' places. Even in the Himalayas where just as you taste tranquility it is shattered by an offer of a lodge, or a question forcing you to remember 'where have you come from' and 'where are you going?'

I have loved the absence of vehicles, hotels and the lack of other 'explorers'. I have loved the presence of beautiful places well visited by seekers searching for a spirituality guided by humanity. I have loved the presence of nature and the wild within a community of human animals.

A special place. To be returned to. At some point...