Chapter 2: Adhisila

      "Student or teacher?" I finally ask my escort as we're leaving Glasgow and heading into the southern uplands.

I'd been silent to avoid exposure since exiting the terminal. She'd been equally quiet while negotiating the old Lotus 7 through evening traffic around the beltway south of the city.

"Some of each," she answers, hazel eyes fixed on the darkening road ahead in the long dusk of late spring. "As a bhikkhuni I mostly practice samadhi, but I also teach adhisila to beginners."

"That would be me," I play along without understanding a word while sensing sparks emanating from the fine hairs along her left arm holding onto the stick shift.  

"Then your first lesson is to abandon lust," she cautions with a wink that could have been a blink since I couldn't see the right half of her face. 

"My wish is your command," I laugh, risking my first night's lodging on a cheap juxtaposition.

     It was a little thrilling knowing my ruse for a ride would be over the moment the driver picked up her cellphone. Sketchy reception as we entered the slopes of the Ettrick Forest was on my side, as was my Buddhist nun's absolute concentration on driving the expensive and sexy green sports car. 

     She was taking us to her monastery in one of the most remote and sparsely populated regions of Scotland. The upper reaches of the Esk River also had the most rainfall in all of Scotland. The sure bet of daily rain was why I had sought out the best in British rain gear for the trip.

     "Barbour and Danner," she nods toward my high-end waxed jacket and leather hiking boots. "Those are brands to desire."

"When in Rome..." I shrug, seeing a small smile play at the corner of her fine unpainted lips.

"You'll need them sooner than you think," she warns, leaning forward to peer at dark clouds looming over the hills east of Lockerbie.