On a treasure of a day with wrong turns that were right, I meandered over mountains and on backroads by motorbike. As I turned a corner, a grove full of buddhas appeared. I wondered and wandered and found an orange-robed monk at a small dwelling. His eyes were clear and bright. He offered water. We sat quietly in the shade and spoke few words. He gave directions to return to the main highway: turn left, turn left, turn left. All right.
The intended destination of the big white buddha on the mountain was meant for another day. Wrong turns are right turns. All right.
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View related post here: "What is the way?"
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