Page 82 of The Big Race
"Almost there," I said, feeling both relief and regret. The forced stillness of the journey had been exactly what I hadn't known I needed.
As the bus pulled into the small terminal, Ray squeezed my hand. "Ready to get back to racing?"
I looked out at the ancient city waiting for us, then back at my husband's familiar face. "With you? I'm ready for anything."
We exited the bus, stretching after the long trip. It was twilight, and we hailed a taxi to take us to the Golden Temple. We pulled up in front of a barred gate, where we saw the other two teams already set up in tents. “Are we sleeping here?” I asked.
“The direction card will tell us,” Ray said.
It read, “Driver Switch,” which meant that one of us had to begin the challenge and the other had to complete it.
“At 5:30 AM, arrive at the Golden Temple to participate in a traditional alms-giving ceremony with Buddhist monks,” I read. I looked up. “So we’re still in this. There’s no way the other teams were able to do this today.”
I continued reading. “The first team member will prepare the offering basket, while the second will carry it down a street lined with monks, distributing the offerings. If any monk rejects the offering because it isn’t correct, the team must return to the start and repackage it.”
“You’re the meticulous one,” Ray said. “I’m more likely to jump ahead and miss something.”
“And you’re good with people,” I said. “You can charm those monks out of their robes.”
“Not sure I’d want to do that,” Ray said, with a laugh.
It looked like we had to camp out in front of the temple to be sure we would be among the first to perform the offering, which our guidebook said was a popular activity for tourists.
“I’m heading to the hotel,” Cody said. “Don’t do anything camera-worthy in the middle of the night.”
Though we liked him, it was nice to be free of him. A tent and sleeping bags had been provided for us by the producers,and as we set it up we laughed about our trip to the Everglades and the video we’d taken. Then Ray went off and got us plates of something calledkua meefrom a street vendor, which was the Laotian version ofpad Thai. We ate the stir-fried rice noodles and pork and then settled into our sleeping bags. None of the other teams were talking—it was a chance for all of us to rest up for the early morning.
I pitied Zoe, who woke us up at five so that we could all be ready for the challenge at 5:30. She led us to an area on the side of the temple where we would assemble the baskets to give to the monks.
A monk in a gold robe explained that we were “making merit,” an important part of Buddhist practice. Giving alms to monks was considered a way to gain spiritual merit and good karma.
I was provided with a basket and directed to a preparation area where various offerings were laid out—rice, fruits, candles, incense, and small bottles of water. A diagram showed how to arrange them properly, with specific positions for each of the ten items.
“Hurry up, Jeffrey,” Ray urged from behind me, shifting his weight impatiently. “Adrienne and Fletcher are already halfway done.”
“If I get this wrong, we have to start over,” I replied, not looking up from the task. “Trust me on this one.”
I studied the diagram carefully, noting the precise arrangement. The sticky rice needed to be wrapped in banana leaf with exactly three folds. The mangoes had to be positioned with their stems pointing east. Each incense stick required a specific angle of placement.
My fingers worked methodically as I arranged the items one by one. First, the wrapped rice at the center of the basket. Then the mangoes and bananas in a semi-circle around it. The lotusflowers needed to be slightly elevated above the fruit. Water bottles positioned at the north, east, south, and west points of the basket. The candles and incense sticks had to be arranged in a specific pattern that symbolized the Eightfold Path.
I double-checked each item. The diagram showed the lotus petals should be facing upward, not outward as I’d placed them. I corrected this, aware of Ray’s increasingly restless presence behind me.
“We’re falling behind. The models are the only ones behind us,” Ray whispered urgently.
“Almost there,” I said, adjusting the final pieces. The candle’s wick needed to point toward the incense, symbolizing the connection between light and fragrance. The water bottles’ caps needed to be loosened but not removed.
I checked all ten offerings one final time, mentally reciting their symbolic meanings as taught by the official. The rice represented sustenance, the fruit represented impermanence, the flowers represented beauty and purity, the incense represented mindfulness, and so on.
Finally satisfied, I nodded to the official who inspected my work with a critical eye. After what felt like an eternity, he gave a small nod of approval.
“You must remove your shoes before approaching the monks,” the official instructed Ray. “Keep your head bowed at all times.”
Ray nodded, removed his shoes, and took the basket of offerings from me with surprising gentleness. I watched as he walked down the street where ten monks in orange robes were seated at intervals, each waiting to receive a specific offering from the basket.
The other side of the street was much busier. Temple monks sat close to each other as lines of tourists approached them, offering pre-packaged offering sets sold by vendors nearthe ceremony route. They contained sticky rice, bananas, and cookies in small bags.
From my position, I couldn’t hear Ray’s conversations, but I read his body language. He approached the first monk with his head properly bowed, but I recognized the slight tilt of his shoulders—the same posture he used when charming potential clients. He was trying to use his salesman personality on Buddhist monks.
