I have been interested in spirituality, meditation and mindfulness since my mid-teens. Before backpacking in South-East Asia, I had done some online investigation into ways that I could learn about Buddhism and have some formal teaching in meditation. To my dismay, everything I found was obscenely expensive and highly commercialised – everything that Buddhism stands against, and certainly not the experience that I was after. However, never lose faith my friends, as the universe works in wonderful ways, and she somehow always finds a way to give you what you need.

I was solo-travelling for a few weeks following a couple of months with two of my closest friends. I woke up early in my small hostel nestled in the mountains. While out for a morning walk, I stopped a passer-by to ask for recommendations of things to visit or see. Through google translate he told me about a Buddhist temple at the top of a nearby hill – I needed no more convincing, and set off immediately. A motorbike taxi ride later, I was at the gates of the temple.

I acknowledge how cliché this sounds, and I understand the likely scepticism, but the energy of this place felt charged with something powerful, divine even. There was something tangible in the atmosphere connecting me to the temple and I knew instantly that I had to become part of it in some deeper way.

There were lots of monks milling around, so I stopped the first one who came my way. In what was most likely a practically incomprehensible, and likely over-excited ramble, I attempted to articulate how desperately I wanted to learn more about meditation and Buddhism, and that I had to do it here. He paused for a moment, and apologised, stating that if I wanted to learn about meditation then I would have to stay for an extended period and live in the nunnery. Before I had even processed what he said I blurted out how perfect that sounded and that I would love to stay.

The next thing I knew I had handed in my phone and my passport (I’m still not sure why this was a necessity) and was being welcomed into the nunnery and dressed in robes. A kind nun gave me an orientation and talked me through the routine. She told me that having visitors stay for short periods was extremely rare, and non-Vietnamese women almost unheard of. She prepped me on how to meditate and gave me an assortment of books to read to learn more. I had a final window to ask some questions before beginning the silence that I was bound to honour until I left. As a chatty, inquisitive soul this was a mighty challenge to take on. Despite my many efforts, the nunnery refused to take any money so I was fed, clothed and given a bed completely for free. Also, for my fellow vegetarians, Buddhists tend not to eat meat so the food was all veggie, and delicious might I add.

The routine was as follows:

3:00AM – Awoken by bells

3:30 – 5:30AM – Silent Meditation

5:30 – 6:00AM – Chanting + Stretching

6:00 – 7:30 – Breakfast

7:30 – 11:30 – Work (chores such as cleaning and gardening)

11:30 – 12:30 – Lunch (The final meal of the day!!!)

12:30 – 1:00 – Chanting for Repentance

1:00 – 2:00 – Break (I would read my Meditation teaching books)

2:00 – 4:00 – Silent Meditation

4:00 – 6:00 – Learning the Dharma

6:00 – 7:00 – Chanting for Repentance

7:30 – 9:30 – Silent Meditation

9:30 – 10:00 – Chanting and Stretching

10:00 – sleep

I stayed for just shy of a week, and the experience though exhausting, was one of the most valuable of my life. Some of my key takeaways were: that two-hour bouts of observing your breathing, and forcing your attention back to your breath every time you have a thought is at times agonisingly frustrating; that having to harbour burning questions and being prevented from vocalising your internal monologue is a mental feat; and that the mind is truly amazing, and more powerful than we could ever understand.

I got far more than I was looking for, and I am exceptionally grateful for this experience. When I was walked out on my final day, by the nun who welcomed me several days before, she couldn’t even touch the gate, let alone exit. The permanence of all of these women’s decisions really struck me in this moment. At first, I found the notion that they had decidedly cut themselves off from the outside world completely impossible to understand; however, on reflection I see that they are simply seeking something different, deeper even, from life.