Tang Dynasty, New York

Chuang Yen Monastery on a crispy winter day.

I first heard about a place called Chuang Yen Monastery from a group of friends. They were planning to visit for the occasion of the Lunar (Chinese) New Year. I was quite interested in tagging along and after making the plans, we made the trip there. It was January 2004.*

The trip from NYC took about two hours. The monastery is normally closed during the winter  months as the often treacherous weather can make traveling a bit tricky (and dangerous). The monastery does, however, open for the Lunar New Year. Once we were on our way from the parking lot to the temple complex, I was astonished by what I saw.

Before my eyes, in the middle of a scenic, rural area in upstate New York, was a large series of temple buildings built in the traditional Chinese style. I was immediately filled with a sense of bizarre wonder. To me, it almost felt as if the buildings were copied and pasted straight out of Tang Dynasty China.

The Great Buddha Hall of Chuang Yen Monastery.

My friends and I weren't there simply for a leisurely visit, however. We were actually volunteers for the day and would be helping out with the various tasks that needed to be done. Lunar New Year is one of the most important festivities in Chinese culture, a fact that doesn't depend on geography. Even in the middle of a frigid winter day in New York, the place was buzzing with (mostly Chinese) devotees making offerings of various sorts. As my Chinese language skills were (and as of press time, remain) nonexistent, I was assigned to a post that didn't require much Chinese: the kitchen.

Working with a dozen other volunteers to prepare food for literally hundreds of people was quite a fascinating experience, to say the least. The whirlwind of jovial chopping, boiling, frying,  and baking left a lasting impression on me. The image of one fellow stir-frying a massive amount of vegetables with a shovel in the biggest (~1 m/3 ft) wok I'd ever seen is not something I'll soon forget. My experience in the kitchen wasn't so much profound as much as it was just damn fun. I resolved that I would learn how to cook and, unlike my halfhearted desire to learn Chinese in the ill-defined future, I eventually did learn my way around the kitchen.

After lunch and cleaning up, my friends and I were basically finished with our tasks and we had time to explore the environs of the monastery. Before describing the rest of my visit, however, I should probably explain just how a large, Tang Dynasty-style temple complex in the middle of New York came to be.

Chuang Yen ("majestsically adorned") monastery, is the home of the Buddhist Association of the United States (BAUS), a non-sectarian Chinese Buddhist organization. With the help of Dr. C. T. Shen, a prominent figure in the establishment of Buddhism in the U.S., construction began in the early 1980s and was finished in 1985.

A view of the Kuan Yin Hall.

One of the main buildings is the Kuan Yin Hall, which, as the name implies, is dedicated to the bodhisattva Kuan Yin. Used for smaller-scale ceremonies and as meditation space, the hall contains a number of artistic treasures. Centrally placed on the main altar is a porcelain Kuan Yin statue dating from the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644 CE). To the left of the this statue is a large wooden statue of Kuan Yin that actually does date from the Tang Dynasty (618-907 CE). I don't know the exact story surrounding this statue except that it was donated to the monastery and required much restoration work. These days, the calm, effortlessly blissful expression and the elegantly postured figure make a powerful impression on those who view it up close. When I first entered the hall, I was all alone and it was very quiet, which made the experience even more calming.

The porcelain, Ming Dynasty-era Kuan Yin.

The wooden Kuan Yin, which really does
come straight out of the Tang Dynasty.

The Bodhi Path facing the
parking lot.

The stone Bodhi Path (also shown as the second image in this post) guides visitors from the main parking lot to the Main Hall. Statues of the Buddha's arhat disciples flank the route. The path ends in front of the entrance to the Buddha Hall. One of my friends and I walked the path and paid our respects to each enlightened master. The fact that it was freezing cold and a bit slippery didn't both us all that much (I think).

The Bodhi Path facing the Kuan Yin Hall (right) and the
Great Buddha Hall (left).

The Great Buddha Hall is as massive as it looks in the pictures. Visitors enter it through side entrances since, according to tradition, the main entrance in the center is reserved for special guests as well as for the abbot of the monastery. Although I was technically indoors, I definitely felt a sense of expansiveness. Perhaps it was because there are no columns standing in the middle of the hall which would make one feel cramped.

Inside the Great Buddha Hall.

The buddha statue that is the focal point of the hall depicts Vairocana Buddha making the vajra mudra. This statue is also thought to be the largest buddha statue in the western hemisphere. The pedestal on which the buddha sits is adorned with reliefs of various bodhisattvas, all of which display the blissful elegance that characterizes much of Buddhist art. Directly opposite the reliefs is a colorful mural showing various buddhas in a heavenly realm surrounded by celestial beings and bodhisattvas. On top of this mural lies a host of 10,000 small buddha statues. In contrast to the vibrant and other-worldly images on and directly opposite the giant buddha's lotus pedestal, the artwork facing away from massive statue gives a very different impression.

The path below the great
buddha statue.

Some of the 10,000 buddhas

Manjushri Bodhisattva.

A stern, black and white mural shows the 500 Arhats, a popular subject in  East Asian Buddhist art. If I remember correctly, C. T. Shen himself, the benefactor of the monastery, is supposed to have painted some of the figures on this mural. Reflecting on the two different murals was a useful experience for me. In terms of dharma practice, it's easy to swing between the two extremes of strict austerity (as exemplified by the arhats) and attaching to wonderful ideas of a perfect realm far away from our own troubles (shown in the celestial mural). But as the buddha himself taught, we should always aim for the middle path.  

The 500 Arhats Mural.

The cosmic assembly.

A closeup of the arhats.

The rest of the buddha hall is filled with things you'd expect to find in any other main hall; smaller altars, prayer books, shrines dedicated to specific buddhas and bodhisattvas, etc.

A view of the main hall.

The final stop of the trip was the Seven Jewels Lake. The traditional list of the seven jewels includes gold, silver, colored glaze, crystal, coral, pearl, and agate. This area of the monastery grounds includes a garden and some pavilions. To say this was a tranquil place would be a serious understatement. The frozen water, the cold yet crisp air, the cold yet gentle breeze, the sound of nothing but he wind, and most of all, the beautiful Kuan Yin Bodhisattva statue overlooking the lake all reminded me that in such busy times, places of quiet solitude can still be found. Sometimes they can even take the form of ancient-looking Chinese monasteries in upstate New York.

   

 


*Although this trip took place in the winter of 2004, the pictures shown were taken in February, 2005. As not much changed (including the amount of snow and ice), I decided to use the photos from my later trip to illustrate my first visit.

Exploring the World, One Sip at a Time

Tea, according to Wikipedia, is the world's most popular drink after water. It's no surprise then, that the consumption of camellia senensis has taken on various forms over the millennia.  Below is a selection of my own encounters with a few of the world's tea drinking traditions.

Matcha (Japan)

"Meanwhile, let us have a sip of tea. 

The afternoon glow is brightening the bamboos, the fountains are bubbling with delight,
the soughing of the pines is heard in our kettle. 

Let us dream of evanescence, and linger in the beautiful foolishness of things."

-Okakuro Kazuko in "The Book of Tea"

Monk and teaware, by the very talented Wu Wei Hai.

By far, the most common way in the world to prepare tea is simply to add hot water to the tea leaves and drink the resulting brew. Things work a bit differently, however, with the powdered green tea drink called matcha (Japanese: 抹茶). Originating in China, the practice of drinking powdered tea was spread to Japan by way of Zen Buddhist monks. While drinking matcha eventually fell out of favor in China, it never lost its popularity in Japan and over the centuries became very popular even outside of the monasteries. The Japanese tea ceremony, in which the preparation of matcha is an integral aspect, still remains an important cultural activity.

The art of tofu cuisine at
Fujino Kyotofu.

Although I had heard of matcha and had even eaten various pastries containing it, it wasn't until  I was actually in Japan that I had to chance to sample the legendary drink itself. After a wonderful but exhausting day running around and exploring the southern and central parts of Kyoto, I was starving. Low on energy and patience, I wasn't in the mood to wander further in search of a decent meal and thus popped into the sleek Central Railway Station. On the upper floors, high above the tracks of this massive structure, I came across a nice little vegetarian restaurant called "Fujino Kyotofu".

In Kyoto, the local culinary specialty is a style of cooking called shojin ryori, which is a strictly vegetarian cuisine that originated under the influence of Buddhism. Kyoto is known for its many shojin ryori restaurants and I had set aside some funds in my travel budget for a nice, fancy shojin ryori dinner. One of the most amazing dinners of my life was concluded with an unexpected item: matcha. I was excited. As the waitress started to prepare the matcha, I said to her, "Oh wow, matcha!" She was a bit surprised and amused but also a bit impressed and replied with a heavily accented, "oh yes...matcha!" After a few delicate sips of the frothy green suspension, I was hooked. Fortunately, I would encounter matcha a few other times during the rest of my time in Japan. The story did not end there though.

A bowl of matcha as prepared at Fujino Kyotofu.

The basic implements for preparing matcha.

I decided that I would invest in tools for making my own matcha. During a visit home, I managed to find a cute little shop in NYC called Kyotoya, which specializes in Japanese souvenirs, particularly from the Kyoto region. I picked up a bambo whisk, a stone bowl, and a special scoop for the powder. Though not nearly as elaborate as a full-blown tea ceremony, I now enjoy matcha whenever the time allows.

Ostfriesischer Tee (Germany)

"Wait and see and drink some tea."
 -East Frisian proverb

"Teelke" in the East Frisian city of Leer. Photo from photos.bilderblog.org.

When you put the words "beverage" and "Germany" together, your first thoughts probably jump to beer. Indeed, beer, also half-jokingly called flüssiges Brot (liquid bread) in Germany, has a long tradition in central Europe. Modern Germany may have only become a unified country in 1871 but its Beer Purity Law (Reinheitsgebot) dates from the 1500s. After beer, however, coffee is Germany's second most popular beverage. Tea ranks a distant third but in the northern region of Frisia, it actually reigns supreme, having developed a unique local culture.

Frisia (German: Friesland) is a cultural region that spans the northeastern part of the Netherlands and the northwestern part of the Germany.  A detailed history of Frisia's interesting history is way beyond the scope of the this post although this link has a great discussion on these topics as well as its tea culture. Over the centuries, the Frisians developed their own regional identity and were, at various times, caught between Dutch and German (Saxon or Prussian) influences. One of those influences was tea drinking, introduced by the Dutch in the 18^th Century. These days, tea drinking is a prominent part of East Frisian culture.

An East Frisian-style tea set (Wikimedia).

East Frisia's tea culture does not seem to be as widely known as some of the world's other tea traditions and I was actually quite baffled to learn that tea is so popular in (at least one region of) Germany. I was determined find out more.

At this point, let me say that while I've traveled to many different regions throughout Germany, East Frisia is unfortunately not one of them. At press time, I have still not actually had "real" Frisian tea in but I hope to experience it at some point. The story below should certainly be taken as a curious experiment instead of a real encounter with East Frisia's tea culture.

East Frisian Black Tea.

Not knowing any actual Frisians, I nonetheless asked around about how to prepare tea in the Frisian style. It all seemed quite manageable. I would need a strong black tea (obviously), some milk (or heavy cream), and special rock candy called Kluntje. In the supermarket, many brands market "real East Frisian tea" and not knowing any better, I decided to go with the oldest company I could find. My choice of brand, Bünting Tee, was a good one, as I discovered it's East Frisia's oldest and most well regarded tea trader. Kluntje are readily available at any larger supermarket. I was set for the experiment.

A traditional Kluntje.

There is a very specific method for preparing East Frisian tea. It begins with placing a Kluntje in the cup and then pouring the strongly brewed black tea, typically an Assam blend similar to an English breakfast-type tea, into the cup. I used a single, big Kluntje but supposedly one can hear the sugar "crack" when smaller pieces are used.

The next step involves slowly adding drops of heavy cream to the tea, which is supposed to create the appearance of cream "clouds" as they disperse through the liquid. I used milk instead and couldn't get any "clouds" to form but this blog has a great demonstration of the proper technique.

After everything has been added, there remains one final procedure. Do not, under any circumstances, stir the tea. With the milk and sugar at the bottom, as shown in the picture below, the first sips of the tea are actually quite bitter. As one continues drinking the tea, the taste becomes less bitter (and better!) and at the end, it becomes very sweet. Enjoying this sweet end is supposed to be the best part of tea drinking ritual.

It was very interesting to drink tea in this manner and I did enjoy it. Now I know the first thing I'll order if I should find myself in a cafe in East Frisia.

The difference between the upper (bitter) layer
and the lower (milky, sweet) portion is easily seen.

Masala Chai (India)

"Come oh come ye tea-thirsty restless ones -

the kettle boils, bubbles and sings, musically."

-Rabindranath Tagore

A chai wallah in Tamil Nadu (Flickr Commons)

In a country with a so many different languages, religions, and cultures, tea is perhaps one of the few things that all of India's people, regardless of social status, enjoy on a regular (if bordering on excessive) basis. Although tea was long known in Indian history, particularly in therapeutic and medicinal contexts, it wasn't until the British colonial period that tea drinking became widespread and it was only in the mid-20^th century that the tea drinking finally became an established part of Indian society. Tasveer Ghar: A Digital Network of South Asian Popular Visual Culture has a fascinating article on Indian tea's transformation from colonial luxury to popular drink. Indeed, Indian tea culture has spread far beyond the sub-continent's borders and one can find "chai" at pretty much any modern-style coffee or tea shop on the planet. The name "chai" is a bit of a misnomer though, as in India it is simply the generic word for tea. Outside of India, chai is taken to mean the traditional drink masala chai (Hindi: मसाला चाय). Here, masala refers to the mixture of spices that are used; most commonly cinnamon, ginger, cloves, and cardamom. In typically Indian fashion, masala chai recipes are as varied as you can imagine. Ask 20 Indian people for their masala chai recipes and you will get 50 different answers. But that's the beauty of the drink, actually. There is no formal ceremony or ritual surrounding its preparation. There is no "correct" way to make it and I think this point is one of the reasons for its widespread appeal.

A cup of masala chai with some
of its ingredients (Flickr Commons)

Myself being part Indian, I have drunk many, many cups of masala chai in my life, however, the best chai I've had the pleasure of consuming was in the southwestern Indian city of Cochi, in the lovely state of Kerala. Kerala is very different from the rest of Indian in many ways. It boasts the highest literacy and development rates in the country and has had a democratically-elected Communist state government for decades. They call Kerala "God's Own Country", in part because of its natural beauty but also because of the relaxed lifestyle and high quality of life enjoyed by its inhabitants.

The Teapot in Fort Cochin.

Traveling with my mother, we had arrived from Delhi in the late morning and were completely beat. Anything you may have heard about India's big, chaotic cities is probably true. The crazier the story is, the more likely it is the be true. Although we had a great time, we were in desperate need of some recovery time, hence the trip to easy-going Kerala. My mother and I definitely needed some relaxation after traveling around the Delhi region and after getting settled in our hotel, we went for a stroll in the historic Fort Cochin area of the city. Still tired and now hungry, we stumbled upon on cute little restaurant called "The Teapot". With a name like that, we couldn't pass it by.

The Teapot's cozy interior.

The fact that it wasn't a quite a "real" restaurant didn't matter a bit. The food was fantastic and the atmosphere was great. And then there was the tea. My mother and I both ordered masala chai and we were both blown away. It was amazing. As of press time, I have never tasted a more wonderful cup of chai. It wasn't just the wonderful mix of flavors from the fresh spices, that it was served in an awesome, traditional clay cup, or that it had the perfect amount of milk. After any long, tiring day, a good cup of day can really help you unwind. After a particularly exhausting day, a cup of tea this good was simply bliss in liquid form.

Me enjoying the most amazing masala chai at The Teapot.

***

"This cup of tea in my two hands,

mindfulness perfectly held.

My mind and body dwell,

In the very here and now."

 -Thich Nhat Hanh

P.S. Although I didn't write about it above, I'll take this opportunity to shamelessly promote my own recipe for Afghan chai.

Oi! There's the Old Time-Space Line!

The Shepherd Gate Clock at the Royal
Observatory, Greenwich

If aliens from outer space happened to swing by the earth and had to guess what the most important city on the planet was, what do you think they would they pick?  OK, perhaps that question was overly broad so let's be more specific.  What city do you think they would choose as Earth's center of time and space?  To an alien visitor, a town just outside of central London called Greenwich may not the be most obvious choice and yet this place is indeed our planet's officially designated "center of time and space". 

During a visit in 2007 to London, one of my favorite cities on Earth, I decided to check out this so-called "center of time and space" for myself.  In early October, England's infamous "non-weather" was mostly sunny during my time there although the clouds had crept back on the particular day of my visit.  A convenient and as is turned out, extremely scenic way to get to Greenwich from central London is via ferry.  I hopped aboard a "river bus" at the docks in Westminster and enjoyed what at first seemed like a leisurely trip down the Thames River.  As we made our way closer to Greenwich and I observed the various sites along the way, I realized I wasn't just on a boat going from point A to point B.  Cruising down the river also turned out to be a cruise through British history.

Tower of London

The Globe Theater

Canary Wharf

The decommissioned HMS...
something or other

On one side of the river stood the majestic dome of St. Paul's Cathedral.  On the other side was Shakespeare's (reconstructed) Globe Theater, where I had watched "The Merchant of Venice" a couple of days earlier.  The Tower of London kept careful watch over the iconic Tower Bridge and further along we passed an old battleship, an obvious reminder of the age when Britannia ruled the waves.  The glitzy sky scrapers jutting out of Canary Wharf symbolized the country's modern-day financial clout.  Starting from the year of the Tower of London's construction (1066) and ending with the completion of 30 St. Mary Axe (aka "The Gherkin") in 2004 gives a total of 938 years and taking into account the travel time between the Westminster and Greenwich piers (let's say 35 min) gives a total of 26.8 years/min.  Not too shabby, unless you happen to be an alien who time travels in a blue box.

Once we landed at the Greenwich Pier, I took a short stroll and I found myself standing in the midst of the Old Royal Naval College.  At my feet was a plaque stating that on the very spot my Chuck Taylors were planted on once stood a royal palace in which the queens Mary I and Elizabeth I were born.  Wow.  This plaque, and all the other things I mentioned earlier, were part of what appealed to me so much about London.  Aside from being a big, lively, cosmopolitan city, it was also the kind of place bursting at the seems with history.  As someone from a young country (US) and a history buff, I couldn't help but to be impressed.  I could easily imagine a tour guide with a slick BBC accent walking down a random street in London, pointing out things like "over here, a rather inebriated Oscar Wilde once vomited out his innards and just round the corner there, Samuel Johnson is said to have beaten a would-be robber half to death with a fish".

The Old Royal Naval College

The Old Royal Naval College was, as the name implies, one of the locations where British naval officers once received their education.  Although it stopped functioning as a learning institution in 1998, the the college, along with the various other related sites in Greenwich, are museums now part of the Maritime Greenwich UNESCO World Heritage Site.  The interiors of the buildings were elegant examples of the famous Baroque style of Sir Christopher Wren.  I had been completely blown away during my visit to his life's work, the iconic St. Paul's Cathedral, just a few days earlier, and was glad to encounter his handiwork once more.

The Old Royal Naval College as

viewed from the Royal Observatory.

My ultimate destination, the Royal Observatory, lay atop of a hill overlooking the Naval College.  The contrast between the old college and the flashy buildings of Canary Wharf just across the river made a for great contrast.  The path leading up to it was lined with trees as well as with statues of famous pirates and sea captains.  The lovely red brick architecture (again courtesy of Sir Christopher Wren) evoked images of mad tinkerers from ages long past toiling away with intricate gears and gadgets.  It turned out my initial impression wasn't so far removed from reality.

The observatory was established by order of King Charles II in 1675. He also created the position of "Astronomer Royal", which is a post once held by the likes of Edmond "the comet" Hally and still exists today.  Aside from being in charge of the observatory, the job description states the Astronomer Royal must:

...forthwith to apply himself with the most exact care and diligence to the rectifying of the tables of the motions of the heavens, and the places of the fixed stars, so as to find out the so-much desired longitude of places for the perfecting the art of navigation.

While the mission as stated above may sound like a perfect fit for the ivory-coated halls of academia, we can rest assured the real intent was more along the lines of:

...stay up until ungodly hours of the night gawking at specks of light in the sky, meticulously measure these things with funny-looking instruments, and apply this arcane knowledge in a way that we can use to improve our naval power and thereby bring back untold riches from the farthest reaches of the planet.

 


 









 
Although the actual buildings themselves weren't very large, they did contain a wealth of funny-looking instruments, miscellaneous gadgets, and, of course, many telescopes and clocks.  On the side of one building was the famous dividing line itself, the Greenwich Meridian.  I, and every other visitor there, took a moment to straddle the eastern and western hemispheres.

Me and my Chucks on
the Meridian

Although I started out using the phrase "the center of time and space", I can't take credit for coining it.  Actually, I'm not sure where this phrase originated from but I do have to compliment the folks at the Royal Observatory for making good use of it.

Perhaps the Royal Observatory placed this sign
to clear up any confusion about just where
visitors are in the world

As interesting as I found all the technical information, the highlight of the visit for me was an extremely knowledgeable and very entertaining tour guide.  By chance I wandered toward the circle of people standing around her and after a few minutes, I too was both enthralled and entertained at her wonderful narration on the history of "the CENTER of tiiiiiiiime and spaaaaaaaace!", a phrase she comically emphasized throughout her talk.  The story concerning the Greenwich Meridian, Greenwich Mean Time, and it's modern successor, Coordinated Universal time, is one beyond the scope of this post but BBC Magazine has a great article on the subject.  One thing I found quite amusing was the history of disputes regarding the meridian.  While some countries objected to making Greenwich the planet's center of time and space on practical grounds, other objections were less scientific.  To quote the tour guide "...and the Irish objected to Greenwich because they 'did not want to have time after the English had finished with it' ".

A good guide can really make history come
alive...and make it really funny too!

The meridian, of course, is an imaginary line, an agreed upon designation for the sake of convenience and practicality and this point actually made me think about so many other things in our everyday lives that are just conventions.  For example, is there anything special about this particular day that makes it Sunday and not Monday?  "Sunday" is just so because it fits into a calendar system many others have decided to follow.  For people using a different calendar system, this particular day may not be "Sunday" at all but something else entirely.  Another obvious example of a convention is language: the words, constructions, and strings of sounds we make are agreed upon to mean something.  Different groups often have different agreements.  For example, the sounds that make up "mala" would mean "bad" or "harmful" in Spanish but the very same sounds in Hindi (written out as "माला") mean "rosary" or "garland".

For all of the conventions and designations we use, they are, at the end of the day, just that: conventions.  Or in the words of Immanuel Kant:

Science is organized knowledge. Wisdom is organized life.