The procession of the beggar monks of Luamprabang
It was so early when we went out to the street that the light still remained calm from its last goodbye. Nothing was heard because nothing was rocking in that narrow street of Luamprabang, Laos. As soon as we went out into the street we thought we saw a shadow pass by and behind it, already in front of our eyes, two elderly women in retirement offered us to buy some cookies that they kept in baskets. We decided to buy some packages and sit there, in a retired and dying corner, to wait for their arrival, buddhist monks, that every morning at dawn they go out to the streets to collect alms through the streets of the town.
As no one was passing there we decided to go to the main avenue. I remember it was a little cold, that we clasp our shoulders with our eyes still loaded with a dream in debt, and that we are disturbed by the idea that that procession of men was nothing more than a story that only exists in the world of shadows.. But it was not like that, other boys sat near us, foreign, in a respectful and tired silence.
A long line of monks appeared carrying their orange robes
Suddenly, when dawn was already creeping in the day, between the dark and the light, a long line of monks appeared carrying their orange robes as if the cloth were coming from their shoulders, in an absolute lack of noise in which only the footsteps were heard, breathing and the twinkling of their baskets. I found it a beautiful image, serena that I soon lost and turned into a camera operator at the feeling that I had a unique photo in front of me.
And they passed by and that line of men disappeared down the street as if they were going to wash away the fears and desires of all of us who were there in the waters of the nearby Mekong. By then the light had already taken over everything and when we thought it was over, that men should return to the vulgarity of the world, we saw that those young people who were next to us were making their way towards the old temples of the main street.
It looked more like a tourist show that had the opportunity to practice voyeurism
We decided to follow them without knowing very well if at that time the illogical should be reasoned and we reached a corner where all spirituality was dissolved into a reality with less prose. Because there were dozens of tourists and vendors waiting again for some monks who passed repeatedly receiving their alms.. We saw few locals, although it was easy to differentiate them: They were sitting, they delivered food and did not take photos. And the generous story of a people who pay their religious at first light with respect and food was less clear and seemed more like a show of tourists who had the opportunity to practice photographic voyeurism..
I guess it's not one thing or the other and I guess I don't care. The parade is older than the arrival of us, other, and the monks walked as if sliding between our amazement. This is how they passed over and over again until they decided that it was enough and they again penetrated their beautiful monasteries not to return until the next light that follows the next night. And we also go to our accommodation, walking among abandoned dogs and other tourists, with the image of that first appearance, in that total silence, with the opaque world and the innocence on.
