Isn't it weird when some people just smell like, I don't know, a human you don't like. You think they're a nice person, and then you get a little too close, just close enough to be repulsed. This isn't the normal bad smell. Actually, it's not even 'bad' per say, or a particular smell known to man. It's their scent. And when this happens it really changes my mind. I become suspicious. Suddenly, I feel like all along we've been genetically programmed to be arch-enemies or something. "_____ must be destroyed", for whatever reason. I always relate the smell to pastrami, or vaseline, though I know it probably smells like neither of those things. Ahh, what a waste. Maybe they're processed people, maybe that's the connection...maaaayybe.
So so so, templehunt today. I went to two Buddhist temples, one 'inglesia' church, and a new alliance Chinese church. The Buddhist temples were beautifully colored reds and oranges, eye catching, elaborate. I felt curiosity, but not much else. I had a rather interesting (interesting in that anyone witnessing this event would probably be in disbelief) conversation, with an overly zealous Chinese man, who was definitely not getting as much a kick out of me as I of him. He was much shorter than me, I noticed while most of the time I stared at his tufts of white hair softly bouncing from the breeze throughout the room. The kind of man that looks you wide-eyed, and doesn't stop nodding his head, in a fidgety neurotic way. I love ticks. At first, I began asking basic questions that he would answer in Chinese, with an occasional English word thrown in. This is where I feel like a dumb American. But I kept asking, until inch by inch we came closer to understanding each other. We went from 0-50% in a matter of ten minutes, all was not in jest. I learned Buddha is the teacher, there is no representative but him, "Good Luck", the scams of other temples, much said about the dead, and some customary singing bowl stuff, among things like what he had for lunch. I praise him for dealing with my questions as long as he did. When it came time to ask if I could take photographs sometime he literally said, "ahh teacher (point to Buddha) no likey, no likey". I thanked him dearly, good man.
The Inglesia Church is a storefront deal. A lovely Brazilian woman openly apologized for her poor English which I prominently told her was great, especially since I just came from Mandarin 101. She told me her story without me asking, she just moved here with her husband, the pastor, from Brazil, and they're still establishing a base here near St Marks. I like this place immediately. The church has an old rusty feel, a nicely decorated small altar with flowers, and windows, light welcoming windows. I'm pretty sure I noticed a table with a coffee pot towards the back. The woman is a little awkward with me in her body language, I'm trying to figure out whether it's because my arrival and presence is strange to her, or if she's self conscious of her English. I smile. She asks if I'd like a prayer from the pastor. I'm not sure, but I agree. A young lively man comes out like a game show host and shakes my hand like I've won a million dollars. Carlos, Pastor Carlos. He asks me to cross my arms and hold them over my chest (think coffin-style), then to close my eyes. With his hand on my head he booms the most passionate prayer in Spanish, last thing I've heard that took me as off guard was the first time I heard tongues, well it wasn't that shocking, but let's just say, it was powerful. I thanked him dearly, I was really overwhelmed. I felt really good after this. So good I gave my phone number to Daniela, who will have the English speaking member call me. hmm. Well they're cool with me coming in, camera and all, I'm cool with them.
The most informative conversation I have is at the New Alliance Church at Eldridge, below Delancey. I ring a bell. The man introduces himself as Aaron, asking how he can help. He seems professional, in appearance and form of speech. For him I lay it all out, I ask and receive, answers to my questions that is. He's trying to setup when I can photograph a half English/half Cantonese service, and he wants to keep in touch by e-mail. Crazy, but I can't complain. He happily gives me a tour of a very simple, but large space, no windows though. This place isn't pretty, or even rustily quaint, but this man is extremely open, so I'll see what happens with this. He gave me his business card, his Pastor business card.
Yeah...day one.
For the record, the smell spat and religion project aren't related at all, this is just me, my thoughts, they intertwine and must be excused for not "categorizing" anything. Free flow man.
No comments:
Post a Comment