Startled awake by a voice in broken Mandarin. Squinted eyes. Instant noodles? Reality slowly setting in, the image on our retinas solidifying. We stare right into Sunday’s friendly face as he wishes us good morning, lights the stove and sticks the kettle on. He points the packages of instant noodles with beef flavour and announces with an apologetic gesture that he’s got to go. We gather our stuff and thoughts as he shuffles out. The lawn outside the building is covered in brittle frost. Our breath forms woolly clouds in the morning chill. We munch pensively on our noodles before re-arranging the monk’s living quarters and, failing to find him, buying 100 RMB worth of karma through the monastery’s donation box.
