Buddist Monks

We spend the day in a Laos village and meet some gorgeous Buddhist baby monks, early teens, who are delightful and who let us take their photo, at their temple.

Their photo is a post card, five little, smiling faces all in a row.

Then it deluges with rain and we run home in it, getting saturated. We stop at a little shop for shelter and where we feel we are being cheeky using them for shelter, they bring us chairs and water and make us feel at home. I'm surprised that the poor seem so happy and, dare I say, content with their lot, while rich Australians seem to get meaner and more unhappy with every year.