Monastery of Jumping Cats

I just about spit coffee all over the computer screen at work this morning.   I work for a company in the travel industry, and I was researching a tour to Myanmar (Burma).  The itinerary for Day 6 of the journey looked something like this: “Fly to Heho, then travel to Inle Lake.  Check-in to the hotel. Relax and marvel at the beautiful scenery from a private boat cruise.  Also visit Phaung Daw Oo Pagoda and the Monastery of Jumping Cats.”  What the?!?!

Yes, you read that right … Monastery of Jumping Cats.  Flabbergasted, I entered the incongruous phrase in my favorite search engine and found this article from the LA Times.

My eyes skimmed the first dozen lines, looking for an explanation, before another absurd claim caught my attention.  As if the name of the destination wasn’t enough … the third paragraph of the article mentioned “some unlikely local residents — Madonna, Leonardo DiCaprio, Brad Pitt and Tina Turner, among others.”  Again … what the?!?!

"The High Jump"

Finally, on the middle of the second page, I learned that Nga Phe Kyaung, an 18th century Buddhist monastery built on stilts in Inle Lake, located in northeastern Myanmar.  For over 20 years, the monks have trained their cats to jump through hoops over a meter high, earning the monastery its curious nickname.    These agile felines and their trainers now attract about 200 visitors a day.

According to the monk interviewed in the LA Times article, the celebrity names are just for fun.   Many of the names, though, do have a connection to their famous counterparts.    James Bond “likes to watch, but if we try to catch him he always escapes.”  Another is called Michael Jordan because he’s a natural jumper, and Arnold Schwarzenegger earned his title as the biggest in the bunch, and somewhat of a show-off.    And Leo … he’s just pretty, like the Titanic star.

Photograph taken by Serena Bowles.

Casper the Friendly Cat

I wrote this post more than a week ago … somehow it never got posted, so here it is:

Four hours into my workday … in other words, once my coffee kicked in … I discovered that my cat found a new perch.

Not sure how it got started, but in the last several months I’ve been collecting cute little stuffed animals. Maybe I’m subconsciously trying to make up for the fact that I’m not allowed to have a real pet right now (I’m allergic, they’re very time-intensive, and we’re on a budget that doesn’t allow for our apartment’s $300 deposit). Anyway, I have thus far accumulated four cats, two dogs, a caterpillar, a snowman and a reindeer. I brought one of my cats, Casper (yes, like the cartoon ghost and no, he’s not pure white ), into the office to spruce up my desk. Most days, he sits placidly on a shelf protecting my few notebooks.

This is Casper.

Apparently though, Casper didn’t feel his guard duties were enough of a challenge, so he presumably scaled the wall to explore my neighbor’s cubicle. Finding all is well, he’s perched on the top of the divider keeping an eye on me. I considered relocating him to his original post, but I think I’ll wait and see where he lands tomorrow.

UPDATE:  Before I left the office yesterday, I set Casper back on his original shelf (two days after his adventure above). I didn’t want him to fall (and I’ll admit, I was curious to see if he’d wander again). It’s a little after noon, and I just found him on the divider behind me when I came back to my desk. I don’t know if he jumped overnight or if he scampered across real quick while I was across the office. But yeah, he’s definitely living up to his namesake.

Stateroom 13

Today at work I had a project image mapping the deck plans of various cruise ships. Kind of a boring, repetitive project but it meant I could listen to my music without it distracting me, as it usually does when I’m trying to write. I was so immersed in my routine that understandably I found myself into autopilot mode.

Then my eyes started playing tricks on me. They convinced my mind to see numbers that continued the sequence in a logical pattern, but weren’t actually on the blueprint I was following. Apparently, the designers had something against consistency, because their system of numbering the rooms only occasionally followed a pattern. I rolled my eyes at being forced to conform to such inconsistency, then forced myself to slow down and study the plans more carefully.

Half an hour later, my sluggish brain put two and two together (or is that one and three?). Anyway, I realized I was making almost the same mistake every time … my methodical side always wanted to add a number into the sequence ending -13, but there weren’t any on the deck map! And I’m talking about every map, every deck, every ship. After stateroom 6009 was 6011, then 6015, then 6017, but no 6013. On another, the numbers were 7111, 7115, 7117, 7119, but no 7113. It reminds me of that book … Tales of a Fourth-Grade Nothing? … no, something about “sidewalks” … oh, I don’t remember the title … but it had a crazy teacher and no 13th floor, just an empty landing. And aren’t there some famous hotels that jump floors from 12 to 14 too? Goodness, the world is full of triskaidekaphobics.