10,000 Buddha bellies

Sha Ting, Hong Kong

I sit here; digesting my lunch of vegetarian fried duck with greens, rice and tea; in a not quite fully realised cafe adjacent to the main temple of the Ten Thousand Buddhas Monastery on a suburban mountainside in Sha Ting, Hong Kong.

I know almost nothing about this place, to be fair precious little about Buddhism, much less Chinese Buddhism, and so I feel I lack any kind of academic insight through which to experience what I see. So I have kind of invented my own story a bit, which I think can also be quite cool.

I found out about this place by accident. I never really intended to stay in Hong Kong, but use it as a central hub for the places I wanted to visit in Asia. But it worked out I ended up with a couple of days here, and my accommodation (which is a story of its own) is not the place to just burn time. So I went to Google Maps, intending to put together some Google searches for dance clubs or food areas or whatever, and I was shown a list of other peoples' saved maps of Hong Kong. I clicked. It seemed to belong to a group adventure. I can't work out for the life of me what the occasion was, perhaps someone's wedding. The story I told myself is a group of English mates came over for a holiday. Anyway, it was marked on this map and I thought it looked interesting so I decided to go.

Not for the first time, I armed myself with far too little navigational support. Despite the omnipresence of English here, it is an incredibly easy place in which to get lost, at least for me. I'd love to portray this impulse as some kind of extreme traveller wanderlust, but I think it comes down to being a bit of a ditz and a boob.

I remembered the appropriate relationship to the train station, but adding that third dimension, lots of foliage, and armies of Chinese glyphs seriously tested my architypally male map parsing abilities.

I followed the most probable path, even spotting a sign and came upon the likely candidate. I remembered a note on the Google Map about hundreds of stairs and thought I was at the right place.



Being a worldly and sensitive guy, I put on my most respectful and reverent visage; I mean I know enough about Buddhism to know it's not like dashing into a water park, right?; and stepped through the gate.

Well, it wasn't the monastery, it was instead a sort of cemetary mausoleum thing (Po Fook Memorial Hall). Very impressive, peaceful, the smell of incense burning, out of respect, I assume, possibly marking some other purpose of which I am completely ignorant. As soon as I worked it out I stopped taking photos, I suppose out of assumed expectation of respect. I made my way back down the hill and rejoined the path and found it at last.

At the entrance point, I restored my reverent countenance, and was startled by the first impression. Neither here nor there in terms of what I expected (again, I confess they would have been based on nothing but fantasy). Either simple natural beauty and harmony or extravagent heart-stopping theatricality and opulence. Instead, construction-like gates and fences, dilapidated footpaths and restoration in progress and in progress for who knows how long but seemingly in no hurry to become complete.

There was a sign teaching you how to behave around wild monkeys, and that excited me. I made sure to study it, hoping to test my new savvy, but so far, no monkeys for me. Damn it.

The long steep climb to the main temple is flanked on either side sometimes both by a series of increasingly elaborate and well-made gold statues. Now by gold I mean wood or perhaps some other material painted gold.



I was surprised at the range of expressions and personalities. These are supposed to be Buddhas, right? Isn't Buddha pretty much totally serene, I suppose I have heard of Buddha laughing, but some seemed practically sacreligious, I thought, some clearly putting their egos on display, exuding pride, some completely moronic.

In my limited knowledge, I was thinking Buddha is supposed to be free of attachment, free from ego. I suppose it is a mistake of the rational mind, of brainwashing by our black or white, good or evil, this or that culture to assume free of attachment is the same as detachment. I can equate this to my current thinking about love, and fear creating the impulse to define, control, possess and tie down, limiting the loved one in the name of reducing the risk of experiencing pain. In this light, to give someone freedom is definitely not the same as apathy or not loving. I love someone, give them freedom, I feel all those things, love, joy, pain, yet try to maintain the freedom. And perhaps this is Buddha too. Free from attachment to worldly things, yet also completely present experiencing the full range of worldly feelings... But I digress.

As this thought passed by, I thought perhaps these aren't among the Ten Thousand Buddhas; these are instead, well, mere mortals or manifestations of the human foibles that Buddha has transcended? I just didn't know but pressed on.



I finally arrived at the main temple and at last saw the kind of Buddhas I was expecting. Seated, serene, almost meditating. And thousands upon thousands of them (apparently about 13,000). After spending some time there, I strolled around the courtyard and into the vegetarian cafe I also read about on the Google Map. I am a big fan of Buddhist vegetarian food, and I was not disappointed. As I sat, I started to ponder the experience so far and whether or not my expectations were met.

And I have to say at that point I was disappointed. And so I pondered that. I couldn't help thinking the whole thing was a bit cheeseball and cheap. Something akin to The House On The Rock in Wisconsin. Extravagent, ambitious, striking, impressive, opulent, but ultimately cheeseball. But The House On The Rock actually derives its cool because it is so unapologetically cheeseball. But surely, the Chinese, Buddhists aren't capable of cheeseball, right?

Well why not?

Then I felt like a bit of an elitist snob. Or some sort of inside out elitist. Where I operate from cultural imperialist guilt with this over-respect for other cultures, in my unconscious ethnocentric cultural superiority, I assume capacity for cheeseball is the highest evolution of civilisation and society (think The Big Pineapple), and that Chinese, Buddhist, whatever, it is just too pure in other words too primitive to do that (all of this sits outside my awareness, conscious mind, by the way). But there it is, maybe all cultures are equally drawn to kitsch. Perhaps it is a human imperative. As such, is it fair of me to expect Buddha to be above kitsch? No.

And so what am I left with?

Well, here it is again. A choice.

Or a choice and a paradox. Perhaps I can choose to let it be both, and take pleasure, amusement and even something transcendent from it. All at the same time. It is impressive, it is holy, it is fucking silly. It just is. Why not?



And so, in the end, I have been quite satisfied with my trek up the hill to see the Ten Thousand Buddhas Monastery. Now I'm off to find the gift shop...