Julia Gulia Globetrotter

Homecoming

2008-11-28T12:03:00.000-08:00

Another painfully long bus ride got me to Bangalore to see Gingie before shipping off for good. Sad, but not all together surprising was that after a fitful night's sleep, I woke up Saturday morning with a splitting headache feeling horridly sick in general. I rested a couple extra hours essentially to no avail, but I wanted to at least attempt to enjoy my last day so I popped a couple more advil and Gingie and I headed out. Despite my aching and bouts of nausea, we managed to have a pretty fun afternoon spending my leftover rupees and seeing a Bollywood movie (obviously group dance scenes and melodrama were abundant and when they slowed and conversations in Hindi took their place, we cut out--it had been nearly 3 hours as it were and I had to get back anyway). A shower and a slightly teary goodbye and I was off to the airport for my 1am flight. My schedule home was pretty miserable, but the 6 hour layover in Mumbai in the middle of the night did have one perk--a star sighting! The lead form the movie I'd walked out of only hours before walked right past me talking on his cell phone--fame by association! I wish I'd reacted quicker but it was 3am and by the time my double-take, jaw-drop combo was over, he'd pretty much flown past.

30 hours of travel got me back to sweet home Chicago and before I could even realize the newness of my old stomping grounds I was accepting the Dora the Explorer welcome back balloons and a big hug from Mom. Being back is bittersweet--in some ways an easy adjustment--like sleeping in my fabulous bed--in other ways a hard one--like wondering why none of the outside has changed to match my inner growth. It feels almost as though I had one long lucid dream and have now woken up to find the leaves have fallen from the trees, the air has turned chilly and months have passed during my slumber.

It's strange the things I notice and I wonder if the same aspects of this world grab the attention of Indian tourists on arrival here. The traffic looks so streamlined to me--almost boring. Where are the cows? the carts? the rickshaws? the bikes? The streets look vacant, almost eerie like a ghost town--does anyone live here? And everything is so spread out. The space between the houses that I used to think were packed together like sardines in the aftermath of the rush of young families to our coveted suburb, now seem like vast vacancies; the wide streets make me feel unsheltered and exposed. Still the cool crisp air feels good in my lungs and I know with each breath that theses oddities will fade from my attention faster than I think. I'm nervous to reenter American existence and begin to write the next chapter of my life, but I know I will continue to carry my experiences with me as I go and they will help guide me in choosing my best path. I can only hope this next step will be as fabulous and fulfilling as the last. I feel so grateful for the support of family and friends and for the opportunity to have such an expansive and inspiring journey at so young an age; I can only cower at the feet of my good fortune and hope to be worthy of all its blessings.

PS Happy Turkey Day to one and all!

Balconies and Boulders

2008-11-26T10:05:00.000-08:00

Saturday afternoon, after some beach R and R, we had a closing puja in the shala--the energy was warm and happy. Everyone looked their Sunday best (even though it was Saturday)--Georgina and I wore the dresses we'd bought in Arambol together and many of the other girls had picked up something special as well. It was a treat to see each other out of our (now) grungy yoga ware, hair all did and donning a few pieces of jewelry here and there. We got our new forehead smudges and another red string round our wrists and chanted as we passed incense and melted ghee 5 times over the shiva portrait and threw frankincense into the fire for good luck. Our certificates were granted and then it was time to celebrate. Most of the crew went to a big night market after dinner, but me and 3 other of my favorite gals (Miriam, Corina and Jessica) hung 'round for a more relaxed night choosing to enjoy wine, desserts and a series of belly laughs that had us nearly rolling off our floor cushions--it was perfect.

Sunday, I went around and chatted with the others who had stuck it out at Riva and we had our last (slightly melancholy) breakfast together. That afternoon, I rented scooters with Kate, and Tess and Kate's friend Jo and we rode north up the coast to Querim and then took a ferry accross the river (scooters and cars and all--quite a thrill and a fright for a first time 'scoot-er-ie' like myself) and rode up to Terekhol fort which is really more like a castle. From there we could admire the Arabian sea, a winding river and the abundance of coconut trees from a bird's eye view--sigh. It was a shame to part ways with the scooters and much more of a shame to part ways with my new friends from yoga school, but at least I didn't have to say all my goodbye's at once--Corina and Jessica came with me to Panajim--Goa's capital city.

Much like Pondicherry's French twist, the traces of Portuguese colonization are easy to spot in Panajim. In fact, the bright colored stucco and ornate lattice work on the balconies, each one eliciting another girly squeal of course, jump right off the page. The city is full of charming cobblestone streets and (along with nearby Old Goa), houses many many churches to explore, if that's your cup of tea. Us three hit a few of the must sees including the ruins of the Church of St. Augustine--once the largest cathedral in Goa (even the rubble is grand)--en route to the spice plantation. After learning some fascinating facts about spices and touring the plantation with our eyes , noses and tongues, we had thalis for lunch and a cup of cashew feni (unpalatably strong alcohol distilled from the cashew nut's fruit which actually happens to be really tasty before being distilled into the feni) on the house.

The following day, Corina got on her way back to good ol' Canada, but Jessica and I continued on to Hampi on an incredibly uncomfortable overnight bus. We got here when it was still pitch black and caught up on some sorely missed z's until late morning. Then finally, we ventured out and began to take in the new landscape . For the better part of the afternoon we chatted and gazed from out hilltop perch at the rock formations that put Hampi permanently (and deservedly) on the tourist circuit. It was impossible to tell whether we were looking at big piles of rocks and boulders with greens interrupting in the spaces between them or at hills with loads of rocks and boulders crushing all their greens. Either way the sight was totally awe-striking. Just when we thought we'd seen the most unlikely balancing act, we'd look over and spot another enormous boulder looking like it would start rolling Indiana Jones style with the slightest nudge. These eye catching sandy colored boulder piles surrounded us, and dotted among them were all shapes and sizes of temple ruins which we casually explored as they fell across our wandering path. It was easy to see how a week might drift by unnoticed as one watched the sunrise and set throwing it's rosy blanket over the rocks. Jessica stayed on to do some further watching, but I only had a couple days to soak up Hampi's magic before heading back to Bangalore to meet up with Gingie before my flight home. (woah. home. weird.)

Yogic Life

2008-11-18T01:45:00.000-08:00

The final stop on my travels was a month long 200 hour yoga teacher certification course in traditional Himalayan Yoga (hatha + ashtanga basically). The course was 5 and a quarter *** days a week and was taught by both Indians and foreigners. It was located in Goa, the main Indian beach hang out on the south western coast just above Kerala where I spent some time traveling earlier on. Here's the complete low down beginning with our schedule (which unlike that of the meditation course, and in keeping with Indian ways of doing, was far from rigid and often was revised with short notice or just running late):

6:30 meditation

7:30 tea

8:00 asana practice

10:00 breakfast

11:00 or 11:30 lecture

1:00 or 1:30 break

3:00 lecture

4:00 asana practice

6:00 free or a half hour of chanting some days

***saturdays we just had meditation and asana in the morning and sundays were free

Accommodation: Riva Resort. It has its strong points. I'd compare my hut to a child's drawing. At first sight, there's a wow factor; then you look in a bit closer and realize it's a bit crooked, the lines don't quite meet, it's not really colored in properly and the proportions are out of whack. I stayed in a beach bungalow which of course has immediate appeal--for one, I had a westward beach view so I got sunsets everyday (when we were off in time for them), and then there's the easy trip to the beach as well. However, none of the walls met each other really, or the roof for that matter, so it leaves the place pretty open to the elements. The elements being bugs, dirt and well, more bugs. I also had some mice who were living in my roof between the thatching but they only came down or shuffled around when it rained and luckily that was only a couple of times. But they do poop and so little droppings fell through the little holes in the woven ceiling and landed random places. So I guess that means it was raining shit in my room (scuze the french) which isn't the best. The hot water lasted about 1 week and stopped working. I gave up asking for it to be fixed after about 6 tries so I just had cold for the rest of the time. But there were clean sheets and towels and the sleeping was good so it served fine for the most part.

Riva is on Mandrem beach which is serene and peaceful if a bit isolated. We were basically close to nothing, but there were a few restaurants and shops 10-15 minutes walk one way and Arambol--a little touristy, hippy town was a half hours walk on the beach the other way so it was alright.

Food: Breakfast was provided and the first day I was elated at the spread--curd, fruit, toast, muesli, cornflakes, porridge, honey, butter, jelly, coffee and tea! But they soon took away the curd (25 people eat a lot of curd and I guess the 'resort' got stingy), we had to fight to get honey regularly, the porridge got soupy, the toast was sometimes just white bread and the jelly was some other jelly like thing which clearly did not make use of fruit in any way--after two weeks or so of the same thing over and over and over, it began to look less and less and less appealing. But it was free (or at least we had already paid for it so it felt free) so we ate. I wasn't much hungry for lunch usually (maybe just an apple and some nuts or banana chips). Dinner we started eating at Riva and exhausted that option thoroughly and then again. It was a pain to have to venture away every night but was well worth it. There were some good restaurants around and we had some tasty meals (at tourist prices unfortunately). Still, I was missing my morning dosa.

Instructors:

Lalit-the main squeeze. An Indian man of only about 28 or 29 years with a small stature and a bright and endearing smile full of perfectly crooked white teeth. He's a surprisingly normal(ish) guy for having spent most of his life (since 7 years old) in various yoga schools and ashrams. Mild mannered, caring , generous and positive, his silliness came out by degrees at first and then finally burst out of him in the form of impersonations (of us) and ridiculous flailing punjabi dancing. His goofy side only detracted from his credibility a minor amount and we all had a lot more fun.

Maeve- Eveanna, Lalit's Irish wife, was vacationing in Thailand fr most of the course, but her mother Maeve did the finances and picked up all the odds and ends where help was needed, keeping us all (including Lalit) in line when we started to stray.

Tiffany-31, Canadian and everything we aspire to when we think of our favorite yoga teachers. She's thoughtful, smart, fun and articulate. As a music therapist, she lead our extra chanting sessions with her beautiful voice and brightened our days with her infectious laugh.

Ram- When I first saw him dressed in the traditional yogi's all white tunic and floor length lungi (like a skirt), his raven hair cascading in waves down his back, full beard and bright eyes, two words came to mind- Indian Jesus. And actually, I wasn't to far off. He was introduced to us as our spiritual leader; I met the title with my usual skepticism, but Ram knocked down my walls with his wisdon and supernatural perception. Every word he spoke seemed to be the right one and in no time the lot of us were eating up his every utterance. There was just something about him--a certain glow, a certain energy. His prescence was calming and yet I felt a slight uneasiness as well, as though he could read my thoughts and I have a feeling he probably could (to some extent), but I know he'd never pass judgment. Despite his insightful and spirtitual ways, he managed to maintain normalcy--one of the reasons he earned my respect--swimming with us on the weekend, dancing punjabi style with Lalit anc craking jokes now and again. He left a week early and some of the group's peace followed him home. I was sorry to see him go, but I feel ut paths may cross again later in life, so until then...

Dr. Rohit-the Ayurvedic doctor who came in once for twice a week to teach us about "the science of living" is a young Indian man with a round face and a big smile and a loving personality. He came to class dressed unneccessarily well in a button down shirt and slacks (much too warm attire for the climate)and was ever patient with our questions and endlessly enthusiastic and kind.

Ken- 'Ken the rolfer' as he claims to be known in the countries he's previuosly visited, was our anatomy teacher. He seemed not to quite realize we were in India as he was always fussing with his fancy computer graphic program and his projector which sometimes managed to put up a wavvy image on the sheet rigged up in the shala. Of course we couldn't make out a darned thing n the wrinkled cloth with daylight streaming in through the openings in the makeshift walls (also sheets) and still he was dissapointed every time the power went out. But it's then we did our best learning--we had to resort to feeling eachother's bones and muscles and those in our own bodies and with Ken's maticulous directions on where and how to poke and prod, we witnessed the inner mechanics of bodies in motion with our hands. Cool.

Asana Yoga: this was the part that most surprized me. I had anticipated being really challenged in asana class and probably towards the lower end of the spectrum in terms of ability level. In fact, it was just the opposite. The classes were geared really towards beginners especially in the first week and then they built up as time progressed. Still, we mostly stuck to the basic poses and only a small handful of classes worked specifically on arm balances and backbending. As a result my own practice didn't improve in the way I'd hoped it would, but it was beneficial for me to go back to the basics and put the finishing touches on each pose there. And hey, 2 classes of yoga every day (1.5-2 hrs each) is still a lot of yoga with or without more advanced postures. In the 3rd week, we started practicum in which we rotated teaching bits of each class. This slowed progress in our personal practices even more, but the cost was well worth it. I loved every minute of teaching. It feels natural and fun to step into the teaching role--I can't wait to have a class of my own! (I still crave deeper and more challenging poses, but rarely does one teacher training suffice, so the next will be for that.)

Course Material: We covered a huge range of topics in our lectures: ayurvedic medicine, chakras, yoga philosophy, mudras, ethics, kryias, anatomy and more. I loved ayurveda--fascinating and fun--we got to figure out our doshas (energy makeup) which dictate the lifestyle and diet that will be best for optimum health. I'd be happy to do yours when I get back :) Ken's teaching was shaky but I still adore anatomy and last semester's ostelogy course put me ahead of the game there which was great--I'll use the info I got from the workshops in my own classes for sure. Chakras and mudras were both short and sweet--there are lots of interesting tidbits there-colors and symbols and sunds etc. Yoga philosophy mostly became nap time, however, and ethics and business were somewhere in between. Kryias were ...neat (some more feasible than others), they're basically cleansing techniques and we tried out a few including the neti pot. You pour warm salt water in one nostril and it comes out the other--wanna try? (actually it is a pretty nice sensation if you do it correctly and your breath feels cool and clean afterwards)

Free Time: Didn't seem like we had a ton of time to work on out tans, but what time we did have, I spent in unexciting ways for the most part--naps (at least until Dr. Rohit told me someone who's a Pitta-Vatha (me) shouldn't sleep during the day because it makes 'em lazy--he's right by the way), internet, reading, homework, beaching, goin to Arambol--the town down the beach--to shop or eat or whatever. There are a few specific things worth mentioning though:
- My friends from Mysore Kate and Melina from were staying in Arambol and came to meet me for dinner. It was so fun to see then again and trade stories and tell them my initial impression of the prgram. Hard for all of us to believe, but it was their last night when we had dinner so we had a coctail and dessert to send them back to real life in style.
-The first weekend there, me and 3 other girls went uot on a fishing boat early Sunday morning for dolphin watching. For the first hour, we saw nothing but sun and sea and then when out spirits were starting to drop, suddenly a fin appeared and then a few more and then lots! For the next hour, we saw tons of the majestic creatures, some light and some dark, all beautiful and graceful.
-The next weekend we all visited an ayurvedic center and it was sorta neat and sorta repetitive form class, but the best part was the delicious and fresh satvvic (tanslation: super healthy veg) lunch.
-Not wanting to miss out on the festivities f Oct. 31, I organized a haloween soiree for us, encouraged everyone to be creative and dress up and got some candy to make it official. I was superwoman (undies over pants of course), some gypsies, a cat and a Hindu demon were among the other outfits.
-Divali, one of the biggest festivals in India came during the course. It selebrates different things depending on who you ask, but essentially it's a few days set aside to honor the divine light in each of us--nice huh? Lalit and the gang had us all over for a puja (candel lit ceremony), sweets and punjabi dancing. We got bindis, forehead smudges, and red stirngs around our wrists. We lit sparklers and firecrakers and went to a big buffet dinner around a beaside bonfire. In some ways, I would've liked to be in a bigger city to see more of the local action, but out little hoorah was special too. AND I've been lugging around ne pair of nice slacks in the bottom of my suitcase for months and I finally had an occasion to sport them! Thank you Divali!

Fellow Company: 20 women and one man (the spouse of one of the 20 women--poor Burte). I was shocked at the imbalance and my initial reaction was tinged with dismay. I love wmen, but let's be honest, we tend to clash when spending prolonged amounts of time with only each other and no testosterone to break up our girl power--I figured we were done for. The group actually meshed surprizingly well and I'd say caddiness did not even show its ugly face until after the thrid week (right around the time Ram left actually which is kinda a curious coincidence). This is all the more impressive because there were so many strong (and slightly spastic) personalities in the mix. the women were from all over the world (France, Italy, England, Turkey, Japan, Scotland, Slovinia, Holland...) and most were 30 years and up--only one younger than myself at an old 19. though it wasn't always easy, being with just women for a month was a blessing. We all agreed that we progressed at a quicker pace and were more true to ourselves for the lack of self-consciousness and empathetic environment. I was in the ocmpany f some really stong and amazing women with a bit more life under thier belts and I learned many lessons form their stories and sturggles and lifestyles. they showed me it is possible to step outside the cookie cutter and turn out better for it once there. they gave me laughter, inspiration and compassion. A short anecdote to illustrate the nature of this family we formed: After the visit to the ayruvedic center, we toodled around Calengutt--the nearby seaside town (not much to see) and I broke out in an inexpicable rash all over my torso. Corina took me to buy steroid cream before dinner that night, Beatrice comforted me while I itched and burned waiting for the group to get into cabs (a long ordeal), Lalit gave me ayurvedic soap, Jan smeared one cream on my front and lavender oil on my back and gave me oral drops to take (homeopathic stuff that tasted like vodka--it was totally unpalatable), Ram took me to the doctor where I got an anti-histamine shot in my upper thigh and a cream and a powder, Ester suggested I put yogurt on it (multiple times that week I could be found in my room covered in curd--worked amazingly well to fight the inflamation), Georgina gave me a Reiki session on the beach (also provided temporary relief) and everyne else had various theories of origin and remedies to offer. Unfortunately none of these remedies seemed to rid me of the irritation; the worst of it subsided after a few horribly uncomfortable days, but traces and patchs lingered stubbornly for over 2 weeks! And still the cause is unknown, but that's beside the point. I was touched by the enthusiasm with which each and every one of them approached the solving of my skin issues. I'm so grateful to have met these women who are so caring and bright, and I hope to keep in touch with the handful who have really touched my heart fr many years to come.

As I finish writing the entry I find myself with only a couple hours to go before out graduation puja and final party. My feelings are all over the place and seem to cancel eachother out; right now I feel calm (maybe there's a storm coming?). The course has been challenging in ways I didn't expect to be challenged. I now realize, it was those aspects outside the physical that needed a push--my spirituality, patience, compassion and capacity to connect with others despite their differences from myself have all grown over the past month. I take comfort in knowing this will likely not be my last teacher training, nor will it be my only visit to India. I can see it written in the stars--no astro reading needed.

The Grand (Semi-) Finale

2008-11-07T00:45:00.000-08:00

Another 13 hour bus ride later...Well, better to start a bit before that. After parting with the Argentinians, I took a short, very bumpy (I have the bruises to show for it) bus ride to Rishikesh where I found a great cheap place to stay with hot water round the clock (how luxurious) and a great balcony view of the Ganges and the mountains rising up behind it. In my short stay there, I attended another puja, went on a nice hike to some waterfalls 5 or 6 hilly km north of Laxman Jhula (the area where I was staying), hung out with an amusing Israeli I'd met briefly in Amritsar and his even more amusing friend, found a used copy of Shantaram (I way too happy about this because it was the first used copy I'd come across and at exactly the right time to pick it up-- lugging a 1000 page book everywhere doesn't appeal and I was days away from having an almost permanent residence--it's the small miracles that count isn't it?), and had a great yoga session with Manoj. Despite having a pleasant stay though, I didn't fall in love with Rishikesh as I'd expected to. Instead of a communal, let's do some yoga, drink some chai and have a chat vibe, I got artificial spirituality marketed and sold in the form of reiki courses, astro readings and hippie clothing. Many of the passers by seemed to be saying something like: 'My hair is dreaded, my nose is pierced and I'm sporting these goofy pants, do I look enlightened?' (NO.) Oh well.

To reach Agra, I'd planned to catch the 4am bus to Haridwar (the Haridwar bus station had told me there was one) to get there in time for the 5:30am to Agra. I was informed by a travel agent in Rishikesh that buses only run to Haridwar 6am-10:30pm so I'd have to go late the night before and stay over there. Fine. I had my bags on my back and was walking out of my guesthouse at 9:15 when the manager informed me that buses to Haridwar stop at 9pm. Now what? After a long and completely ridiculous exchange concerning buses and taxis etc. with the manager, one of his staff and a third man (who I later found out didn't actually work there but just wanted to participate), I agreed to pay the manager to take me and all my luggage to Haridwar on his motorbike. I insisted we leave at 3am because I assumed something would surely go wrong with this plan. At 10 after 3, I wrapped on the office door (which was wide open to the cold night air) and he bolted up from a pile of blankets scaring the daylights out of me. A few minutes later, I'd caught my breath, he'd fetched the bike and I'd climbed on with my backpack on my back and my huge bag balanced on the seat between us. I had to flare my legs out to accommodate it--thank goodness for yoga, and there was little room left for me to sit, but we managed, and one chilly hour later, I'd made it just in time for the 4:30am bus to Agra.

Here now we are back at the 13 hour bus ride (should've been 10). I arrived fatigued and achy and later than I expected, and consequently paid too much for an autorickshaw to rush to see the Agra fort only to find it closed for the day. Then I checked in to my guesthouse where the room I'd reserved was considerably more expensive than as listed in my guidebook. After talking the price down to a reasonable amount, I went to an internet cafe to discover that my flight to Goa for the next day was cancelled, but not to worry, I could expect a full refund. Dandy. The only available flight that fit my schedule left a day later than I'd planned arriving only 2 hours before the yoga teacher training was scheduled to begin. I booked it with bitterness and marched to the guesthouse stressed and upset. Some Australian guys really saved the day and prevented a potentially massive breakdown by inviting me to dine with them, and after a lively chat and a good meal, I was feeling much better about things if a bit thrown by the last minute schedule change.

When my alarm went off before sunrise on Saturday morning, my worries were distant; all I could think about was the Taj Mahal. I felt a tingle in my stomach when I stepped out the door and walked to the East gate just down the road. Entrance Fee--Indians:20 Rupees, Foreigners: 750 Rupees!! This one small irritation met me at the ticket booth, but thankfully, I'd known about this discrepancy before hand and accepted it so it didn't smother my excitement in the least. Was I willing to pay $20 to see the Taj Mahal? Yes. End of griping. (Though it does seem unfair to have to pay nearly 40 times the price as penalty for begin born elsewhere, does it not?) The line to get in eeked forward and by the time I approached the entrance, the knot in my throat was too big to swallow. Then I was through the gate-- I could feel the knot growing, swelling. I rounded the corner and then there it was. Tears welled up in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. Not many. Just a few. But I was suddenly and totally overwhelmed--overwhelmed by the ethereal sight and overwhelmed by feelings of completion. In a rush I watched my travels flash all at once before my eyes, leading me along a windy path to this one moment. The finality this realization carried was heavy, but at the same time a weight was lifted from my shoulders. I'd done it and I'd done it alone. I'd wandered successfully and I'd come to this very spot and there it was--the Taj Mahal. There it was in all it's glory--almost appearing more as a figment of my imagination than it ever was before it sat before my eyes. If any man-made structure skims the surface of nature's radiant creations, this is the one. I won't attempt to describe it. I can't. Words really don't slice it for this one. You can go see it in this life or you can wait and see it after this life. Either way.

Needless to say, the energy and activity around me soon overtook those few moments of grace and I began snapping pictures with everyone else. After an hour of gazing, I left the Taj Mahal behind and had a big big breakfast in a small small shack, mailed a postcard and visited a few more sights with a certain unshakable detachment before catching the train to Delhi. Since my alarm refuses to go off when it's most crucial for me to get up on time, I overslept the next morning and made my flight by a frighteningly narrow margin. Goa, its coconut trees and its sand and sun were waiting for me and so was a month of uninterrupted yoga.

GOBAMA!!!

2008-11-05T08:27:00.000-08:00

Us Americans (we can admit it now, thanks for covering for us Canada) breathed a sigh of relief a the results came in this morning. Cheers to a new beginning! (more blogging to come ever so soon...)

Holy Days

2008-11-02T04:33:00.000-08:00

There is only one good reason to go to Amritsar and that is to bask in the glory of the Golden Temple--as sacred to the Sikhs as the Vatican is the Catholics. Sikhism was a reactionary religion stemming particularly from a distaste for the caste system that was propagated by most Hindus at the time. Sikhs accept people without regard to breed or faith (even Hindus are more than welcome visit their places of worship). In keeping with their principles of equality and openness, the Golden Temple provides accommodation for visitors free of charge. The foreigners' quarters is directly across from the entrance to the temple and here, beds are lined up one next to the other with no space between--I was given one of these on arrival. This dorm was an easy place to meet people quickly and that evening a few of us went to the Pakistani border to watch the hoopla surrounding the gate closing ceremony that takes place every evening. It was quite a spectacle of national pride. Indians and Pakistanis turn out in throngs to out-cheer each other as the guards form either side march dramatically towards one another with extra stern faces. It was a fun outing but paled in comparison to all the temple had to offer. It's amenities included super duper cheap tea/coffee and snack stands and a museum depicting horribly gory and massacre and execution scenes from battle fought in defence of Sikhism--but even the images of decapitated heads were a side show.

Just before the temple gates the Guru-Ka-Langar, the temple's community dining center some 40,000 people every day. All are welcome to sit crossed legged on the floor of the large halls and gobble up chapati, dahl and sweet rice pudding. Eating there is completely free and the halls are open and crowded 24 hours every day. It's run on a volunteer and donation base only; the volunteers busily attend to their tasks--they do anything and everything from peeling and chopping onions to washing dishes. Sitting on the floor sharing a meal with others from all walks of life symbolizes acceptance and equality, plus the Sikhs don't want anyone to visit the temple hungry or desperate. Meals are served at warp speed--to my knowledge nothing else in all of India runs with such efficiency. Within 10 minutes the dining hall is filled with 15-20 rows of 50 or so people each. 15 minutes later, everyone has been served, eaten and is filing out while volunteers wash the floors (there's even a mini zamboni to help with this job) in anticipation of the next crowd. When I arrived on Sunday afternoon the dining hall was so busy, both the upstairs and downstairs halls were filling so quickly, they had us sit in rows in the hallway and served us there. In addition to its dining hall and dorms, the temple complex's marble walkways serve as a dust free bed for hundreds of homeless every night.

The Golden Temple itself sits gleaming in the middle of a square pool ringed by wide white marble paths, walls and clock-towers. When I first entered through one of the four archways, I was struck by the multitude of brightly colored saris glistening in the sun and sprinkling the white background like confetti. The temple is almost to bright to look at in the midday light which bounces off it's intricately decorated walls and highlights it's reflection in the water. I was not alone in taking a seat at the edge of the walkway to watch the crowds--some bathing, others sleeping or tending to their children--,to soak up the atmosphere and to enjoy the chanting that fills the air with its vibrations.

There is an Amritsar outside the temple walls but my experience of it was limited and pretty ghastly. All I'd wanted was to mail my absentee voting forms and visit Jallianwala Park where the famous massacre of peaceful protesters took place under the command of General Dyer
(British). (This is depicted in the film Gandhi; the well is still there and the bullet marks from the assault can be seen scarring the walls.) Both post office and park were right close (SO CLOSE) to the temple but due to some really horrendous directions I ended up waling all over the city for hours just to get to the post office (eventually asking around got me to one way far away) and back. Trying to get from a to b lead me down some the most revolting streets I've walked. I choked on the smell of raw meat festering in the sun covered in flies, dodged the open sewers and skirted around diseased and emaciated farm animals left and right. By the time I made it back, I was angry and dirty, and infinitely glad to hide out in the clean peaceful haven of the temple, and I appreciated its shelter 10 fold. (But hey at least I got to cast my vote!) I gazed at the temple a bit more and pretty soon, I was on the overnight train to Haridwar.

I had a mediocre 1/2 night's sleep on the upper most tier of three...I guess you could call them padded shelves... and woke up early with the bustle of the day beginning around and below me. Vendors come traipsing through the train cars all the time and soon, the one I wanted came by; I heard him before I could see him. "Chaiyachaiyachaiyachaiya chaaaaaaaiiiiiiii!" 5 rupees later I was sipping happily on my sweet milky tea. Before I knew it, the train arrived in Haridwar, I stored my luggage for the day (harder to do than you might think) grabbed some food and got on with it. I ended up meeting some Argentinian guys , Pedro and Catrien, at the first temple I went to (Mansa Devi). They were loads of fun and we went around together for the rest of the day.

The highlights were these-- Chandi Devi Temple where a man sitting at the small shrine near the exit asked me the typical questions-- 'Which country? (USA) Your good name? (Julia) First time India? (Yes, yes first time, I head wobbled to help him understand.) Married? (No.)' He tied a red string around my right wrist bowed my head with one hand, slapped me on the back with the other (a blessing), marked my forehead with an orange smudge and promised I'd come back with a young, handsom, wealthy husband and 2 kids. Only time will tell if he's right I suppose. Next, the three of us bummed around some and later went to the puja (religious ceremony) at the Har-ki-pauri Ghat. Haridwar is an especially holy city because it stands just at the spot where the sacred Ganges river rushed out of the Himalayas. Loads of people show up every day without fail at sunrise and again at sunset for this holy gathering. Our foreheads were marked again, this time by little girls circling the crowds with tiny pallets of ink. The whole thing was a big spiritual mess really--some sat waiting while others bathed, families posed for pictures as they sent their diyas (banana leaf bowls with flowers, incense and a flickering candle) into the current, children splashed around playfully, beggars roamed to and fro and so on. As darkness crept in, more candles and big oil lanterns were lit and moved and swayed in sync with chanting. We agreed it was amazing that this production went on twice every day. After leaving the puja, we shared a delicious meal and then with hugs and warm wishes, I was on to Rishikesh.

A Tibetan Fairy Land

2008-10-21T01:52:00.000-07:00

Tearing myself away form the snowy peaks, I left early the next morning for Dharamsala. I had to first take a bus to Jammu which I was told would take about 7 hours; accounting for Indian time, I figured about 9 which left me plenty of time to catch one of the buses to Dharamsala from there. There was nothing in particular to hold us up on the way; we didn't run over any cows or have to change buses, but it took a whopping 13 hours! In what universe does 7 translate to 13!? The bus ride was beautiful (its saving grace)--we were traveling through mountain passes nearly the whole time so I was more surprised than irritated, until I got to Jammu and found out I'd missed the last bus to Dharamsala by a half hour. Then I was irritated. After an unpleasant night in Jammu, I caught an early bus--my guidebook said 5 hours, the bus station said 6, it took 7. And a half. (That's reasonable Indian time I suppose.) Thankfully, when I arrived in Dharamsala, my troubles vanished like the rabbit in the hat. The beauty of the place was impossible to escape, the air was fresh, and best of all, the first guesthouse I tried had a cute little room with a view for super cheap.

Dharamsala is a very special place and to explain why, I must again delve into a quick background explanation. Many of you worldly folks must already know of Tibet's plight particularly in light of the recent Olympic torch controversy (or at least you recall the "FREE TIBET" t-shirts that were popular in Hollywood a few years back thanks to Brad
Pitt), but I'll admit that I had hazy knowledge of the big picture, so I will relate a short history in case you have some haze that needs clearing. Of course Tibet's history and relationship with it's neighbors is much more complex than what I can comprehend of it in such a short time, but here's one version: Tibet and it's people have existed independent of other nations for centuries upon centuries under various leaders including most recently (1600's to date) the spiritual and political leader-His Holiness, the Dali Lama and subsequent successors to the position. At no time in history was Tibet ever recorded to be a part of China, nonetheless in 1949, China decided it had been, and set out to reconquer its territory. Peace runs in the veins of the Tibetan people (they will go out of their way not to hurt any living thing down to the smallest insect as per the principles of Buddhism), thus when the Chinese army stormed in, there was no contest--Tibet's attempt at military defense was crushed and the atrocities committed against the Tibetan people began. It was China's will, under the pretense of creating cultural unity, that Tibetan artifacts, currency and significant buildings be destroyed. The Tibetans were terrorized, well over a million Tibetans were senselessly killed and the vast majority of Tibetan cultural heritage was blasted to bits. These happenings have every mark of a genocide and it is my guess (and my hope) that the label will be officially applied in the coming years, but meanwhile things are still extremely tense and it was really a slap in the face to Tibet's leaders that China hosted such a globally significant event this summer and was allowed to traipse right through Tibetan territory in opening celebrations.

Anyway, Dharamsala enters the scene when the 14th Dali Lama and those Tibetans willing and able to follow escaped Tibet and established the Tibetan Government in Exile--all of this generously permitted by an independent India--and Dharamsala was the chosen spot. As a result of this influx, the place (specifically McLeodganj--the tourist hub some 8 km north) is abuzz with Tibetan people, culture, food and handicrafts. What a welcome and refreshing change of pace this was! The knit socks with playful patterns, chunky beaded jewelry, bells and other crafts were extra tempting after facing so much of the kitchy toys, souvenirs and bangles at typical Indian gift shops. The streets were peaceful--Tibetan shop owners smile warmly when tourists pass instead of peppering them with entreaties like "looking, yes? just looking, no have to buy, looking, looking!". Even the beggars are more courteous, giving a nod and wishing passers by a good day regardless of the availability of spare change.

My first morning there, I met a girl my age--Rose--over Tibetan porridge (yum) and we went around together the next couple of days. There were a few walks/hikes to be done and we did those (one was to Bagsu waterfall where we averted out eyes as too many men stripped to their tighty whities for a dip--I'm so utterly disgusted with male bravado these days--decency is not in the repertoire of Indian men). We also went to a couple of movies in this funny makeshift theater--The Darjeeling Limited and 7 Years in Tibet--both appropriate for sure and good flicks taboot. We also visited the Tsuglagkhang complex where the Dali Lama resides and there's a great museum about Tibet's history there as well. Tibetan flags bring color and life to the whole town but in the area around the complex and the nearby temple, there was such an overload of them, barely a space between two trees was left unfilled. I was lovin it. I went and checked out an amchi (traditional Tibetan medicine) clinic--looked like all they had was dog kibble in various jars... --got a Tibetan massage (more research) which was much nicer and probably more beneficial than dog kibble. The lady who worked on me really dug into my kinks with reckless abandon--just how I like it! Needless to say, it was tough for me to leave this place too, but time was limited therefore, at 4am on Sunday morning, I was on the bus to Amritsar.

Accumulating Stories for My Grandkids Continues

2008-10-15T22:18:00.000-07:00

11pm Friday night saw me leaving for Bangalore, 2am, I arrived and got an expensive and long and cold rickshaw ride to the airport. 3am-6am, waiting... Finally boarded the plane, my eyelids closed and when I opened them, I was in Delhi. I was exhausted and anxious to get to my room. ( I had booked ahead to save myself the trouble of finding a place on arrival and to ensure that a nice safe place to stay was waiting for me.) Up to this point, I'd been constantly surprised by how wrong my preconceptions of India had been. I recalled that before I left, an Indian women visiting my neighbor had told me that Northern India (including cities such as Delhi and Calcutta) was the 'real India' (it sounded like a warning the way she put it). Immediately I understood what she meant. Absolutely filthy, obnoxiously noisy, extremely crowded--these were my impressions of Delhi from the get go and they matched my previous notions dead on. It's not like I haven't come across filth, noise and crowds (have I ever), but Delhi trumped just about anywhere I'd been in all three categories. My driver spoke no english, zippo, zero, and we spent 2 frustrating hours forcing our way through streets much too narrow to accommodate our vehicle stopping every 30 meters to ask directions and everyone gave different ones. I winced as our small van came within inches of hitting rickshaws, dogs, carts, fences, people; I was in a constant wince. Eventually, we arrived and I'd planned to take a nap but figured I should secure my next day train ticket to Agra first.

Long story short, I ran into a plethora of road blocks and irritations and was really not in the best of spirits when I arrived hours later at a travel agency (not the first I'd been to) to ask about jumping on a tour of Old Delhi. (I did not have the will nor the wakeful brain cells needed to navigate it myself at this point.) Suddenly, my luck changed. A young, well spoken travel agent named Janna saw that I was about to break and helped me figure out how to configure the next couple of weeks travel to get to the places I had in mind beginning by booking a package deal that included a plane ticket to Srinagar and 2 nights room and board in a houseboat plus he threw in a driver to take me around Delhi that afternoon! Splendid! And he invited me for dinner that evening--the cherry on top. I rode off in my air condition sedan to see Humayun's Tomb and Akshardham Temple--two sprawling and magnificent complexes (very old and very new respectively) that took me far from the unpleasantness of Delhi's chaos and dirt. Dinner at Janna's house was delicious, after which I enjoyed my nice room until too late--gotta get my money's worth--and then fell into a deep dreamless slumber.

The next morning began abruptly. My deep slumber lead to oversleeping and I was biting my nails all the way to the airport so that I barely registered Janna on the driver's phone telling me there was a strike in Srinagar but not to worry--it was perfectly safe. I made my flight with no trouble and began reading my lonely planet's Srinagar section. 'DO NOT under ANY circumstances' it said ' book a package deal from Delhi that includes a stay in a houseboat.' It went on to list a bunch of really convincing reasons why not to do this. Although I could not imagine that Janna, who was so exceptionally kind, would deceive me, a rather large knot formed in my stomach. As the plane descended over the snow capped peaks of the Himalayas, I was temporarily distracted from my fears by their beauty but when the plane touched down the knot was right back in its place.

To appreciate this next portion of the story, a little background information is necessary. Srinagar is in Kashmir which is the northern most state in India at the very tippity top. In 2000, Bill Clinton named Kashmir the most dangerous place on earth. Here's why: when India gained independence from British colonization, it was disputed whether ownership of Kashmir should go to India or to Pakistan and much bloodshed took place at the border as a result. Truth be told the people of Kashmir would generally prefer neither; they would like to be free to be Kashmiri if you will, without India or Pakistan's interference. As it were, things did not turn out that way and much to Kashmir's dismay and frustration India sent in a heavy military occupation to keep things under control--also a violent business, at least at first. In the recent couple of years past, both India and Pakistan have relaxed their efforts making for a much calmer situation, however, the place is still overrun with Indian military patrol. I don't know if this analogy works, but I'm putting it in anyway, because it makes sense to me. Say Kashmir is Texas. Bare with me here. Both Mexico and the US want Texas, but the US clearly has it (Mexico is Pakistan and the US is India in this wierd parallel). Texas however would prefer to be a lone ranger. Even as a part of the US, Texas flies its own flag, and its people appear to have more state loyalty than they have allegiance to the nation as a whole. Think how Texas would react if the US sent in a bunch of soldiers to make sure there was no funny business and to keep Texas pride and flag flying, as it were, to a minimum. Agree that the Texans wouldn't just take it lying down? ok.

Back to topic--every so often, the Kashmiri people attempt to protest India's hold with some sort of strike or demonstration. When I was on my way there, one such protest was in the works and in order to prevent it from being carried to fruition, a curfew had been placed on Srinagar and no one was allowed to move about or even leave their homes. As you can imagine, this caused some difficulty on the way from the airport to the houseboat (which I was dreading anyway due to the warning I'd just belatedly received in print). Keep in mind that I did not know what a curfew looked like, let alone that that's what all the fuss was about, when I tell you my jeep was stopped in excess of 15 times (I lost rack) by armed military personnel on the way. Some stops were longer than others and I had to show my passport and flight ticket stub (thank goodness I still had it) a number of times.

We reached the houseboat eventually and it turned out to be fine and I was served decent food and there was no sketchy anything to worry about after all. Phew. That afternoon, I took a really relaxing and scenic shikara (certain loungy partially covered boat) ride around Nagin and Dal lakes and got a chance to admire the reflection of the mountains in the glassy water. For the next two days, I had arranged a trek outside the city. Mustafa, the houseboat owner (who looked exactly like someone who's name would be Mustafa by the way) guessed the curfew would be lifted (they usually only last between a few hours and a day) or that if it weren't we'd be able to pass anyway once we explained out purpose and because we would be leaving the city, not entering it.

At 9am sharp I was packed and ready to go when I was informed that the curfew was being much more heavily enforced than usual and we couldn't leave. Mustafa had gotten a permit from the magistrate but they wouldn't accept it or even let him come and tell me himself--he had to call and send a neighbor. I groaned at this news and my heart sunk; I'd been dreaming about trekking in the Himalayas for so long and now, because I was on such a tight schedule, I couldn't extend my stay in Srinagar which meant I might only get one day in. Confined to the houseboat, I tried to enjoy the day, but even the warm sun and pretty surroundings couldn't cheer my spirits. Mustafa said there was a chance we may be able to leave that afternoon, but hours passed with no word.

At 5pm, I'd just resigned myself to another night in the houseboat and was practicing yoga on the roof as a means to keep from falling into the pit of despair when Mustafa showed up and said to be ready in 5 minutes. I was and we hopped into the car with the military escort he'd procured through various friends and bribes. I wrongly assumed that having a man in uniform along with us would make the check points a breeze. The first time we were stopped, it was for almost 20 anxious minutes. The escort we had, you see, was a Kashmiri soldier and the military on patrol was Indian, so the rivalry I mentioned earlier was in play here. I breathed a sigh of relief when we were allowed to pass. We dropped off out escort but were stopped 4 times more before exiting the city bounds. Each time I thought we'd have to turn back especially when the road was blocked by two rows to barbed wire, but they moved it aside for us with some persuasion, and in a couple of hours we arrived at the house where we'd be spending the night. It belonged to a gypsy family, a title which means they're hill people who move up and down the mountains with the change of seasons. One of the women lead me down a treacherous hillside in the pitch black and we stepped into the sparse yet cozy room where we drank tea and ate dinner and drank more tea before bedtime. Though we couldn't communicate because of the language barrier, it was pleasant to observe family life as usual going on around me and I went to bed content and excited.

During my sleep, I had a nightmare that it was raining and we couldn't go. I started awake and relaxed ...until I looked outside. Torrential downpour. I knew I had been getting too lucky with the weather, but did my first real shower have to come on the worst day possible?! We had breakfast and I alternately played with the adorable kids and wallowed in my disappointment until about 10:30am when the rain had let up enough that I could go.

Because of the downpour, the paths were too slippery and dangerous for us to go up any steep inclines so we were forced to stay in the valley, another let down, but I was happy to be going at all. The hiking was nice, if a bit wet (actually quite a bit wet and if I hadn't been so happy just to go at all, I might have been complaining) and there were still pretty spots for photos and so on. On our way back, me and my guide stopped for hot coffee at the tent of Mustafa's friend Rafiq. Rafiq sat like a king wrapped in blankets at the end of the tent opposite the entrance puffing away on his cigarette and sipping from his mug. He was fantastically cheerful and easy to talk to, he insisted that I have a second steaming hot mug of coffee and an extra cookie--he said he could tell I'd been a bit down when I entered and as the liquid ran through my veins infusing them with its warmth, I realized he was right and admitted so, but I was really feeling much better already. When we left the tent, the rain had stopped and the clouds had given way to magnificent glimpses of snow dusted peaks. The first snowfall of the season had happened while we were sleeping.

The air was brisk, the colors were fresh after the rainfall and the rest of the walk along the river flew by and I wanted more so I got Mustafa to agree to let me walk part way along the route back. By the time I'd scarfed down a late lunch and got on my way, the mist had cleared a bit more leaving behind one of nature's masterpieces on display. From the river at the bottom of the valley, green and brown mountains rose sharply on either side forming a V which elegantly framed a monstrous snowy summit displaying it in all its glory decorated by a few small lingering clouds. I craned my neck to continue to view this surreal picture and snap just one more photograph in attempts to package it up for later enjoyment (no use I'm afraid except to jog my memory of the real thing). Lost in admiration I somehow went astray (though I didn't notice any turn offs) and luckily the father of the gypsy household where we'd stayed spotted me and pointed me in the right direction--up a steep muddy hillside to a narrow steeper path covered in loose rocks which after some amount of time lead to the correct road. Oops. It pulled at my heartstrings to leave such an amazing spot so quickly, but after all, I had places to go.

It was on that walk that I came to an important conclusion about the nature of myself. Let me explain; there are two kinds of people in the world--you are either a mountain person or a beach person. This does not mean that you cannot thoroughly enjoy both locations--for many years, I thought I could be an inbetweener, but these of course only exist in myth and fable. One landscape will always edge out the other even if by the smallest degree. Over the course of my travels I have had a unique opportunity to access this quality in myself as I have moved rapidly from beaches to mountain ranges and vise versa in Vietnam, Thailand and now India. Allowing for a small margin of error due to the potentially unfair powers of persuasion the Himalayas have merely by being themselves, I think I can finally conclude that I am a mountain person at the core. Beaches may warm my heart and hands, but mountains whisper to my soul.

um woops

2008-10-12T23:41:00.000-07:00

So I realized that the document I once promised to write elaborating on all of the interesting things I learned during my conversation with Mathew at his house in the backwaters and chatting over toddy never got written (notice I'm not mentioning any names here) and also the paper that with reminders of all those interesting facts got lost (again, no names). Thus I am forced to draw a few of the most interesting ones from the recesses of my mind to share.

The backwaters lie 2-6 meters below sea level as it so happens. They are essentially islands even if the water that separates them isn't very deep (and some of it is). In the dry season all is fine and good, there's just enough water to flood the rice paddies and keep the canals wet, but during monsoon season there's a problem. A couple of problems actually. The first is that when it gets wet, the mud the houses are standing on gets, well, muddy and the houses that were built before building techniques were sound (most of the houses) sink a little and then the mud settles back. So all the houses are sinking. Mathew remembers growing up in a house with three steps up to the doorstep; when I was there, there was one. The second problem is that when the land gets so muddy and flexible like that, pieces can actually be lost. If a house owner can prove that a piece of his land floated away he/she can get permission to take some mud and sand and stuff and build it right back up again--this seems like a ridiculous thing to have to do every year, but such is life in the backwaters. In fact there is a whole class of people who's job it is to pile up the mud again after it has slid into the water. The third problem, and the most obvious is flooding. Mathew explained that when it rained, they usually could tell a few hours in advance that the house would flood and would have just enough time to put the furniture up on bricks and roll up the carpets. He and his sister would then sit on the kitchen table and fish. That's not a joke, they could catch fish inside their house! Aren't the powers of human adaptability amazing-- I can't imagine adjusting to this annual routine, but here's a whole group of people who have done just that.

As for the politics portion of our discussion, the recesses of my mind have not retained the clear details of the ins and outs we covered. I do remember, however, being really interested in how much autonomy the state governments have. This was not unexpected--each state has its own feel, its own food, the people have state pride and would consider themselves 'foreigners' in another state, so it makes sense that the governments would be fairly disconnected from each other as well. In fact, the central government doesn't seems to really do much at all; parliament does a few small things, but the president is really just a figurehead and it's left to the states to govern themselves. Kerala is dong particularly well, with a 99% literacy rate, great education system, progressive views toward women, it's no wonder travelers love their time there.

The other main topic I picked Mathew's brain about was the healthcare. It seems that unlike the people in less developed areas, Keralans reserve Ayurvedic treatments for less serious ailments and persistent but minor problems that are more likely to be helped by herbal medicine and use western medicine for serious illness and acute treatment--a nice blend in my opinion.

The rest of the details of our talk are either forgotten or would be too mundane to discuss here, but it was a lovely and informative couple of chats and it's a nice memory. (Mathew and I are still in touch by email and I hope that continues for many years.)

Chocolates, Tea and Company

2008-10-10T22:05:00.000-07:00

Phew, this one has been sitting in my notebook for too long!

I'd just finished a very disappointing Black current blast at Cafe Coffee Day (the Indian equivalent of Starbucks--they're everywhere, they're overpriced, what you order rarely looks quite as big or tasty as the picture; And yet I continue to seek out the recognizable red and purple sign for the predictable decor and air conditioning and buy a drink to earn the privilege of s[pending some time on the cookie cute couches and chairs that beckon me so.) Anyway, I was thinking that 'black current blast' (as good as it should be from the sound of it that is) is a perfect description for my stay in Ooty; it was rich, creamy, refreshing (unlike the beverage I'd just had) and I was sad when it finished. As the bus from Coimbatore climbed into the hills the air went from stuffy and hot to crisp and clear and cool. Still 60 km away I knew I would like Ooty just from the feel of the wind on my cheeks. The bus arrived after dark with aid of some expert maneuvering by the driver who seemed to fear neither the drop off on our left nor the truck, bus or what have you inches (very literally, inches.) from us on the right. ( I cannot say the same of the woman sitting in the adjacent seat who kept reaching all the way across me to enhance her grip during the curves--there were many-- and looked seconds away from quitting the bus and marching her way back down to sea level.)

At night, in Ooty, it's just barely cold enough to see your breath; I found it to be the perfect temperature for pants, a light jacket and flip flops, though I was under-dressed by Ooty's standards--many residents sported coats and knit hats after dark. (It was a total hoot to see Indians in ski gear!) But then of course I do have Chicago in my blood. After finding a cozy place to stay, I dropped my bags and headed out for a stroll before it got too late. I soon found myself at the inviting line of tea and snack stands across from the bus station. There I had a plate of baniburi which set me back a mere 8 rupees and was a hot delicious mess of I'm not really sure what, but it resembled some type of chaat. After the bite to eat, I headed back to my guesthouse to snuggle up under the thick blanket as there was no heat in the place. It did however have a working TV which to my surprise and delight had english stations. I thoroughly enjoyed having access to Seinfeld, Friends and other familiars over the next couple of nights--you see this is the first TV I'd had available to me in weeks and weeks, thus instead of a timesucking distraction from activities that require higher intellect, it was a rare delicacy to be cherished as such, so I did. The next day I spent strolling around (despite the abundance of livestock, even more than usual, roaming the streets, they maintained a certain charm) visiting the lovely botanic gardens and sampling Ooty's famed homemade chocolates. The chocolate shops pepper the streets like tea stalls (there's one every 10 meters or less) and I took it upon myself to sample one flavor and then another and then another to make sure the excellent quality of the first two wasn't a fluke. By the end of the day, I was a few bites away form an upset stomach and had concluded that Ooty's reputation for good chocolates was well deserved. (I had also indulged in a few teas since Ooty's climate makes sipping a hot cup of anything so much more appealing than usual--it was prime tea sipping and chocolate eating circumstances.)

My second day in Ooty I'd arranged to go on a trek. I'd wanted to see the surrounding scenery and also figured it might draw some other tourists out from wherever they were hiding since I'd spotted none up to that point. My guide Vincent and I did briefly cross paths with a group of dutch people traveling together but other that that it was us and the tea plantations. Though the lack of company was a disappointment, our trip through the Nilgiri-meaning blue mountain- countryside was very pleasant. The hills were steep enough but not too steep and there were lovely views to be had all around. The green bushes of the tea plantations with windy paths running every which way through them and the interspersed trees oddly sheered so as to let in the sunlight reminded me of something you might find in a Dr. Seuss book-- fantastical and striking in a slightly silly way. Beyond the tea lay small villages (only 6-10 families in each) dotting the hills and other crops neatly planted in an ascending rectangular patchwork, beyond that the blue mountains that give the place it's name. Vincent and I climbed to a view point and the clouds below us (yes below us) cleared just enough to afford a spectacular vista. That night I soaked up some more cool air before descending the next day to Mysore-astanga yoga mecca.

After a long bus ride and lugging my bags around to find a place to stay, I was a bit frustrated and in desperate need of some company. I befriended a couple of girls in the hotel cantine--Melina and Kate--who also had recently arrived to practice yoga and they recommended Ajay's shala. I was torn between studying with Ajay or Sheshadri; after a sweaty hour and a half class with each (the same day mind you) every slightest movement down to the lift of a finger was a painful, achy effort and I had loved both. I agonized but ended up deciding that Ajay's space had more the vibe I was seeking. I took class again Friday morning (ouch) and then as there was a couple days asthanga yoga holiday because of the full moon (I don't get it either) zipped up to Bangalore to visit Gingie--my college running buddy and also one of my favorite people around. Her lovely apartment was an escape from India; with its hot water, clean floors and peanut butter supply, I was living in the lap of luxury. Plus, it was splendidly relaxing and joyous to be with a close friend--something I hadn't done in too long. These pleasures made for a speedy weekend and a rough reentry into vagabond Indian style life, but it was delicious retreat while it lasted. Once I returned to Mysore the rest of the week flew by. I spent my time in the yoga studio, and out doing Mysore things and hangin' with Kate and Melina. the Mysore Palace was pretty spectacular in daylight but a nighttime, it really became a fairy tale illuminated as it was by thousands of tiny lights in honor of Dasara, a ten day festival that began Oct 1. Dasara also gave rise to a pretty kickin parade that I caught by chance coming out of an internet cafe--headdresses stints, the whole shebang. The Devaraja market was one of the most colorful and bustling I've seen yet--shockingly bright hues of powdered kum kum (dye) was sold alongside incense, various oils, flowers galore and produce--the number of bananas there was out of control.

Unfortunately on Wednesday I wrenched my neck somehow and suddenly could barely move it without intense pain. Ajay took me aside and told me to relax as he gently wobbled my head back and forth and then THWAK! He thrust my chin hard to the left and my neck let out a large crack. After I'd recovered from surprise, this seemed to provide relief for a moment but within minutes the pain was back. Per Ajay's recommendation, that afternoon I went to a local chiropractor, Parmesh, who performed a combination of bone setting, stretching and ayurvedic massage on my neck and shoulders. I found it helped quite a bit and went back again the next day too. I'd never wish injury upon myself, but the diamond in the rough is that my neck trouble gave me the chance to really put some alternative medicine to test and to my delight, it passed with flying colors. Friday snuck up on me and after a fun night cooking in with Melina and Kate, I was on my way to Delhi lost in anxious anticipation of what North India had in store.

Since I Don't Have a Photographic Memory...

2008-09-28T05:52:00.000-07:00

i have these! i swear i'm not making this stuff up--here are some pictures to share with you (and prove it)! there's captions on 'em and everything so should you have questions...learn to read.
click here to take a look :)

The Land of Coconut Trees

2008-09-22T06:54:00.000-07:00

Twelve Days Back: I spent an extra day in Pondicherry because after 4-5 hours of running around town and waiting in various lines and talking with various people, I'd concluded that there was no way at all to travel southbound until a day later than I'd planned. How could this be? you ask. There must have been some way unexplored. The answer is simple: Oonam. This 10 day festival takes place in Kerala (state on the western coast) and is such that all people who once lived there come flooding back to celebrate with their families. Thus Tamil Nadu--Kerala's neighboring state--is effected in that all southward going transport is booked weeks in advance, particularly trains. Oonam. I passed this extra day being an extra for a TV commercial advertising a local magazine. This translated to free lunch, an afternoon spent with young people, a few rounds of cards, some standing around and posing happily arm in arm with a German guy and 1000 rupees pay. Stellar.
En route to Kanniyakumari, the overnight bus hit gridlock traffic multiple times and we were some 4 hours delayed in reaching Nagercoil making a total of about 18 hours on buses for me. Oonam.

Eleven Days Back: Kanniyakumari sits at the southern most tip of India where the Bay of Bengal, the Indian Ocean and the Arabian Sea meet and you can see sunrise and sunset with a simple turn of the head. I won't downplay the awesome-ness of its location; I'm not sad I went there. However, once the initial excitement over the geography of the place wares, there's really not a reason in reach to be there. Thus after a sunset, dinner and conversation with Carl--a really nice british guy who seemed to share my every opinion about India and life in general, and I his--and a sunrise, I was on my way.

Ten Days Back: Kovalam Beach was a much better fit. I got there by bus and ran into some heavy traffic along the way. Oonam. Ah well, I was happy to have arrived anyway--masses of coconut trees and sandy beaches were there to welcome me and it was breath of fresh air; even the fact that it was a bit touristy was a welcome change. And the pollichanthu fish was finger-lickin' good (I left nothing on the banana leaf but bones and eyeballs).

Eight Days Back: On to Varkala. I had my first train ride to get there and it was...unforgettable. Long story halfway short, I had confused some information that I'd gotten from someone before I left about what class ticket I should buy because the terminology wasn't what I thought and ended up riding what I now believe to be '2nd class ordinary'. Translation: the lowest of the low. Not only that, but I discovered later after exiting that of the two cars designated for this ticket, one was mostly women and I'd gotten on the other one. It was a wonder I even got on at all. How could I have overlooked this?! Oonam! It was an absolute mob scene to board and somehow I managed to push my way in far enough to be swept up luggage and all through the tiny doorway. I learned from one of the fellows three inches from my face that there's no limit to the number of tickets sold for 2nd class ordinary so once you purchase a ticket, it then becomes your job to make it on however you can. Luckily my ride was short--only an hour or less--because squeezing in with 20-some men (I counted those I could see by craning my neck) in the narrow space between the two halves of the car was less than comfortable. No one could budge an inch. Exiting at my stop proved even more difficult than getting on in the first place and lucky for me once again, the people around me were very nice and spotted my stop and gave me and my bags the hefty shove we required to remove ourselves from the mess against the new crew of people trying to force their way on. Though Oonam has now come to an end (finally), that will be my only stint with 2nd class ordinary rail travel.
Moving on, Varkala is a place no traveler can possibly dislike. The tourist strip of guesthouses, ayurvedic centers, restaurants and shops is perched along the dge of breathtaking red cliffs which slope down to moss covered rocks and beach below. Though it is a tourist strip, it seems just to offer what you need all in a nice row without being obnoxious or imposing less a few call for your business from shop owners. I can't imagine tiring of admiring the cliffs in the changing light--in fact, I stayed an extra night just to continue doing so.
My first day there I had a deja vu and then another one shortly after (does that make it a squared or something?). A french woman I'd spoken to briefly in Kanniyakumari walked right into the restaurant where I was sipping my pineapple juice and watching the sun go down. She joined me for a chat and then later that evening I almost literally ran into the isreali brothers I'd spent a short time going around with the same day as I'd first met the french woman! Weird. One of the brothers and another isreali couple who we had dinner with were in the habit of doing yoga as well so we all met the next couple of mornings to practice--lovely to have company for that.
The following night, another Indian home opened its doors to me (that makes 3 now-does this sort of thing happen in the US I wonder?). A really outgoing, young and talkative (even more than the rest) Indian guy named Manu invited me for dinner after only a 5 minute conversation. That night he and his two roommates showed me and a french couple (Manu had met them later the same afternoon) how to make chapati and chicken masala curry from scratch. Manu's roommate Atol said I was better at making chapati than he was and swore I must have had prior experience--maybe in another life :) After lots of laughs, I left with a full stomach impressed all the more by the hospitality and generosity offered to me no questions asked.
The following day I realized that I'd been slacking on my alternative medicine research and decided it was time for my first ayurvedic massage. An hour and half and copious amounts of oil later, I felt relaxed if a bit greasy. Although the rub down was enjoyable for sure, I think I prefer Thai style which does a better job of kneading, stretching and pounding out my muscles. Still, the ayurvedic massage is worth a second go 'round to double check it.

Five Days Back: Next was Allepey, a jumping off place for Kerala's crown jewel--the backwaters. Over a shaky skype connection, I had arranged for a homestay with a family on Chennamkarry island. I was skeptical of Mathew's directions "once you're off the ferry walk 5 minutes until you see a 2 story house and that's the one" but sure enough, once I left the boat, there was only one way to go and the big house stood out like a sore thumb (much like me in this country I suppose). The homestay was costing me quadruple what I'd been paying for a night's stay but it included all meals (home cooking!) and tea and aside from that, I knew within the first couple of hours it'd be priceless anyway. When I arrived Mathew, a 30-some year old indian guy who speaks excellent english (such a luxury!) and is somehow both shy and outgoing greeted me warmly and called for lemon ginger juice (yum!). I dropped my things just in time for afternoon tea. Mathew and I talked for an hour or two about many things-of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings (name that movie anyone?) and also about backwater life and what it was like to grow up there and Indian healthcare and politics. I learned a lot so I will put some info for those interested parties in a separate document which I haven't yet written and will update this post to include it when I have (see blog posted in October entitled 'um woops'). Meanwhile, Mathew's brother's 2 really cute girls were busy putting sugar in their tea by the fistful--literally (reminds me of someone...). At around 6:00 Mathew took me by canoe and motorbike to try Toddy (it had come up in conversation). As we whizzed along, the sun was setting across the rice paddies behind the coconut trees and struck me as one of those sundowns you catch by accident and it's more spectacular than the ones you watch on purpose. But I digress; toddy is an alcoholic drink extracted by the toddy tappers from the flower shoots of coconut trees. When it's taken out by these skilled tree climbers (amaxing to watch them scurry up a trunk), it's already 2% alcohol by volume and over the course of only two days it ferments itself up to 12%. We ordered one form that morning and one from the previous day and sipped them in the toddy hut as we continued our conversation. Not everyone enjoys this beverage due to its pungent smell--even Thomas can't really stomach it, but I didn't mind the odor though it was a little vinegary (toddy will turn into vinegar if left and can be used for cooking). To me the milky white drink tasted faintly of apple cider and I quite liked it (much to everyone's amusement I think.)
The next day began slowly; with Thomas's directions I took a walk and then a bike ride through the villages, along the canals and by the rice paddies. In the afternoon, after a delicious lunch, more travelers arrived and we were all having tea when one of the authors of Lonely Planet stopped by on a house boat to update the info on the place. We pulled out our guide books after he left and sure enough, there was his picture and a funny little blurb on pg 21 in the 'authors' section! Later on, Mathew took me and the two english girls and the french couple who had arrived on a walk around, explaining things as we went. This is how we learned that 'Kera' means coconut tree and thus 'Kerala'= land of the coconut trees! It's aptly named for sure. What I'd seen of the state from the south up was packed to the brim with then and the backwaters were no different. From the canals, they're all you can see unless you look closely and then rooftops poke through here and there and glimpses of the encased rice paddies can be had. It was a hazy twilight as we were making our way along and just turning dark as we boarded the canoe waiting to take us back to the house. We drifted through the water under a clear starry sky and Mathew and the canoe driver entertained us with songs passed down through families from people of the lowest caste--essentially slaves. Their voices boomed over the flat water in Malayalam --Kerala's native language (it's a palindrome in case you didn't notice and I think that's such a perfect quality for the name of a language to possess.) The songs were wonderfully rich to hear and transported us back to the time, not so long ago, when the caste system was strong in Kerala. As a state, Kerala is very progressive--one of the main underlying reasons I think, why travelers take to it--but sadly, in other parts of India, caste still determines status and opportunity. Almost home, we drifted by a shack on the side of the canal and Mathew spoke to the man there who then popped inside, came out, and hustled along the bank to catch up to us and hand over... a Jackie Chan movie--the place was a video rental shop! It's small happenings such as this one that prompt this wide spread description of India: "It's like no place you've ever been before or have yet to ever go."
That evening, we all learned donkey (a Keralan card game), the next morning we had a long bike ride and after lunch, I was on my way, sad to go, but eager to explore the next place.

Three Days Back: Fort Kochin's windy cobblestone streets greeted me on arrival after a ferry, a bus ride, an autorickshaw, another ferry and a good bit of walking. 2 nights there were just enough to appreciate those streets and buildings with their leftover traces of dutch influence. During my stay, I also picked out a couple prawns and a butterfish just plucked from the sea by the fishmongers and had them cooked up straight away oozing with garlic and lemon. Yum. Later I attended a Kathicali traditional dance show which kept my attention more due to its oddity than anything else, but keep my attention it did. Men with loads of makeup on in costumes with big headdresses and bigger hoop skirts using odd twitchy facial expressions and hand gestures to communicate will generally hold one's gaze. (Find me later for the video footage.) Fort Kochin was my last stop in Kerala and though the land of the coconut trees had treated me well, I was ready for a change of climate and I'd heard that's just what was in store for me in Ooty.

Tribute to Elastic Waistbands

2008-09-13T06:33:00.000-07:00

Before I came to India, I heard a few recurring things about it from everyone I spoke to--expect nothing because you'll be wrong, it's unlike any place you've been before or ever will go to, you will hate it, love it and miss it when you go. So far they've been right except for one thing; I expected to pay pennies and eat well and I was dead on. If you are hungry, best fetch a snack to have while reading this one because you may otherwise begin to chew on whatever is within reach.
I am consistently amazed at what food I can get for my rupee. Every time the bill comes, I crack a little smile--I feel as though I'm robbing the place blind! I often end up leaving a hefty 20-30% tip though none is expected- that comes out to about 10 rupees (25 cents). Finally, a place where I can afford to be classy! The name's Kocian. Julia Kocian.
I will now describe for you staple Indian foods. (Why are these not our staple foods!? you could kill in cafeteria swapping with this stuff!) A typical simple meal is some type of flatbread or rice served with dahl (lentil soup) and a variety of different sauces/stews which you either dip/pick up with the bread or mix with the rice, scoop up with your fingers and shovel in with the back of your thumb. There are many variations of flatbread but the most common is dosa. Dosa is made fresh--it's crunchy in the middle where the griddle was hot and around the sides where the batter was thin. The rest is soft and spongy, tears just right and is comforting and delicious any time of day just by itself. It usually comes folded over or rolled around a heap of yummy potato stew-just the right amount of spicy and creamy. Along side is dahl (of course) and a masala sauce and a curd sauce. The masala based one is red and a bit spicy and the curd one is white and cools your mouth--a loverly ying yang thang. Rice is just white rice here but what makes it shine is everything that goes on top. If you order the "full meal" (also called thalis I believe but I've never seen it listed that way) you get a gigantic banana leaf upon which rice is mounded way too high. Then the servers come around and dish different sauces and stews and/or curries on top, you mix it up and scoop it up and enjoy. The only problem with this meal is that the servers assume you want more by default so unless you are (and really even if you are) on your game to tell them no thank you in time, you feel uncomfortably stuffed through the next meal time and possibly the next after that. I sort of avoid these due to that sensation. I don't know how the locals aren't tipping the scales big time considering how much they can put away in one sitting. I've seen men literally consume more than a pot of rice plus all the fixins. The light is always green for seconds and thirds. Oh yeah, the full meals cost around 75 cents.
So those are the basics. The menus at restaurants are always really long and I haven't been able to try everything of course, but it's funny, whatever I order (generally) tends to look a lot like what I got the last time (under a different name too) but with a twist maybe. For now, that's alright with me-dosa suits me fine. In a different category all together is chaat. Chaat is actually originally a North Indian creation but has spread everywhere as food tends to do. it's the Indian equivalent of fast food, though I hate to even make that analogy because it so far surpasses what we know as fast food in every aspect of cuisine that's it's in a different realm altogether. Sailesh introduced me to chaat and I will forever be indebted to him for that--I was hooked at first bite. We started off with pani puri. For this delightful amuse bouche you stand in front of the counter at the ready holding a little dish. The dude on the other side pops a hole with his thumb in a thin, hollow, flaky sphere, stuffs a wad of potato in, dips the whole thing quickly in tamarind juice and then sugar water and plops it onto your tray for you to gobble up in one big, juicy, crunchy, delicious bite. In under a minute or two, you've had three (that's fast food) and are ready for the next tasty treat. Although there are many kinds of chaat, the other one which stands apart form the rest is dhai papdi chaat. I think I could live off of this. Crunchy chips go in first, then mixed veggies and potato, then creamy curd (like yogurt but not sweet really) then green sauce, then red sauce, then 6 or so different spices splashed on with reckless abandon (sometimes thrown across 5 or 6 plates being made at the same time) and a crunchy topping to finish. I imagine there's a local joint in heaven that serves great dhai papdi chaat.
Tea and coffee. Are. Everywhere. On every menu and street corner, served after breakfast, after lunch, after dinner, and also between meals. They come in small cups like you'd get for a double espresso maybe, around 15 cents each. Both have milk and sugar mixed in by pouring the hot liquid back and forth artfully between two containers. The tea is spiced--like a chai latte on it's best day ever. The locals never tire of these and neither will I.
This last part contributes greatly to the theory that coming to India was part of the universe's grand cosmic plan for lil' ol' me. What comes after dosa? (besides tea) Dessert of course and there's no shortage of it here. Cake shops are all over the place, display delicious looking buttercreams of all varieties and sell by the slice and those of you who know me ( I presume that's everyone) know I love cake more than most eatables. Here come the shocker. Now I'm not saying that I haven't sampled piece, but ...wait for it...I pass these up with burning desire to thwart, sometimes even turning my nose up at them! In favor of my waistline? you ask. No (did you see the title of this entry?) In favor of Indian sweets. As many cake shops as there are, sweet shops outnumber them two to one. I don't know how they all stay in business but I am doing my best to help. Like the flatbread, the sweets here are a million and one variations of the same basic creation. You take ghee (like butter but better) and add sugar and then mix and then add a little more ghee and then add a little more sugar for balance and then you have it. Well, pretty much. The sweets here are the sugariest, creamiest and most delectable morsels EVER and you can get 'em for 20 cents a pop. danger. The first one I tried and still my favorite was ghee mysore pauk. When I asked the boy running the counter what he would reccommend, he pointed to this one without a moment's hesitation. Looks like cream colored fudge, melts all buttery in your (my) mouth, coats your (my) tongue with sweetness, screams just one more please. Although that one takes the cake, so to speak, every other one I've tried has been scrumptious in its own right--especially jaangiri: alarmingly orange, winds around itself like funnel cake, oozes with sugary syrup on biting through the batter on the outside, angoor jamoom (sp?): log shaped or ball, spongy, syrupy, messy deliciousness, ghee badusha: flaky layers like baklava, buttery, sweet (duh), sticky, yum
I now understand why they wear loose fitting clothes here. Mystery solved.
P.S. I am now in Kerala, famous for fresh seafood-- I will shortly proceed to test whether this is well deserved...

Indian Adventure Numero Uno

2008-09-08T00:24:00.000-07:00

There are so many topics to choose from for this entry--my day trip to Mamallapuram where I saw temples and ate delicious fresh fish, Indian culture and mannerisms I find amusing, what it's like moving about in a city where the population density is well over 25,000 people per square km, food (that one is coming), Sailesh and his family and friends, my first Bollywood movie going--but, I feel that my first true Indian travel experience deserves the spotlight. Let me preface this tale by saying that although I would never wish for anything to go wrong when getting from A to B, it struck me as quite amusing at the time that the very premier of my city to city transport unfolded in this way. I consider myself lucky to have been in such a frame of mind because this trip had plenty of potential to induce irritation.
At 9:30pm, Sailesh and I were getting a bit of a late start making the 2.5 hour journey from Chennai to Puducherry or Pondicherry (all the cities are being renamed post colonialism so you can basically take your pick), but we weren't too worried since buses run often and round the clock. We let a full looking bus or two go by before deciding to just hop on and stand until folks got off (which we figured they surely would as other popular destinations are along the way). Standing was comfortable enough spacewise--not quite shoulder to shoulder so I could take a wide stance and hold on with both hands to steady myself for noisy, pushy, hectic Indian traffic. We stopped a few times to pick up passengers but no one seemed to be getting off early. After about 2 hours of standing, a couple of boys got off and we were able to squeeze on to a seat. Phew!
Not 15 minutes had passed when the driver braked very abruptly sending us all lurching forward. There was a man sitting on the stairs catching the breeze from the opening where the door should have been and when the bus stopped so shortly, he hit his head on the door frame and fell out onto the pavement. Of course there was commotion over this, but instead of pausing to check on the man, the driver--likely fearful of what the harmed party might do in retaliation--stepped hard on the gas and away we went, leaving the poor soul on the side of the road. Some 15 or 20 minutes later, the driver pulled off at a police station and reported the mishap, surely thinking it would be taken care of and we could go on our way. The police were not prepared to let him off so easily and his new engagement meant everyone had to deboard and change buses. This would have been a less interesting development had a new bus been sent for, but no such communication was made and thus, a hefty busload of people found themselves standing on the side of the road in the middle of the night essentially hitchhiking as a group. Plenty of buses were whizzing by but they were either clearly full or simply didn't want to accommodate us. One did stop and of course it was a mob scene to get on so Sailesh and I continued to wait with now half a bus's worth of people. Eventually, another one pulled over. Before we got on passengers were already using standing room, but we all squeezed on anyway, like freshly sealed sardines. I've never been on public transport packed so tightly. Move an inch and you've jabbed your neighbor. On the upside, there was no need to hold on too tightly since there wasn't any space to fall into. At any rate, we reached our final destination well after two am, Sailesh had a snack, I showered and we each collapsed into lovely white sheets at Ginger Hotel (a new line of budget hotels in India). It was the first air-conditioned room I'd stayed in in 6 weeks. I slept very well.

Thai Endings, Indian Beginnings

2008-09-04T22:32:00.000-07:00

Since I'm behind on my blogging I am actually sitting in an internet cafe in India fixing to write about the last 10 days I spend in Chiang Mai. Much has happened since the last blog but even having only been in India for a matter of hours has transformed Thailand into a distant memory. I will try to pull myself from the sensory overload and relate the last week n a half at least briefly.
In the last few free days before I began my massage course, I took a cooking class, went to the zoo and moto-ed up Doi Sutep with Ted to the Wat at the top with stop on the way up at a lovely waterfall. The cooking class was super fun. Me and the other 6 or 7 people in the group--all very nice--rode in a sawangthaw to the market to learn to shop for rice, oils and meat and then to an organic farm to see how the beggies and herbs are grown. WE grownd our own curry paste with mortar and pestle and spent the morning making curry (I made green), coconut soup and stir-fried chicken with cashews. Then lunch--I don't have to tell you what we ate (yum)--then pad see ew (stir fried big noodles) and mango with sticky rice and coconut milk in the afternoon. I can't wait to try my mad skills out back at home the cooking school sent us home with an awesome recipe book and enough leftovers for dinner that next and breakfast the next morning. Scrumdiddliumpcious.
Most of the time last week I spent split between my Thai Massage course at ITM and roaming the city streets on my gangster red bike which I dubbed Calvin. Calvin and I rode all over town stopping at little shops and street stands and feeling the sun and breeze and merging accross multiple lanes of rapidly oncoming traffic around the moat--that last part snapped us out of our Chiang Mai trance in a jiffy! The massage course was such a blast, the week flew by at lightning speed. The instructors, native and farang (foreigner) at ITM were all exceptionally nice and patient. We began the day with anhour of thai chi and light yoga. I loved that hour. They put on this hilarious recording with directions in chinese in this goofy voice and accompaniying music. The thai chi ended up feeling like we were in a really strange broadway show-- amazing way to kick the morning off right! After warming up and waking up, we had a tea and coffee break and then instruction before lunch and practice after. I'm sure we made quite a spectacle practicing all our crazy tandum stretches (awkwardly at first--it's a new sort of coordination) but it was great fun and since we partnered up, everyone got half a massage each day--the left side for women and the right for men to maintain ying and yang balance of course. The other students were so fun; I have many email addresses to keep track of them with andI feel like I can give a decent thai massage too! But I still need practice so let me know if you have a spare hour or two...I can feel my popularity increasing already ;)
For my last weekend, Ted and I went to a little get together to celebrate the impromtdu marriage of Laura and Roman, two lovely friends of Ted's who decided they couldn't wait to thai the knot (sorry I couldn't help myself). We got them a little wooden buddha (old), a bottle of whiskey (new), Ted's key chain (borrowed) and cute salt and pepper shakers (blue). the next day we were up early for some climbing at Crazy Horse where Chiang Mai Rock Climbing Adventures (where Ted works) sets up camp. It was a beautiful day and climbing was challenging and rewarding in turn. Here's how it worked: Ted would dart up a route lead climbing and then sit back patiently shouting encouragment as I eeked my way wondering if the limestone had shape-shifted while we switched belay. My fingers and toes were just about to run out of steam and then it was time to head back to the city. sunday I took it easy--yoga in the morning, massage in and street strolling in the afternoon. That night, we went with a few friends for thia bbq. The place was tented outdoors and the tables went on for miles; it was Sunday but the place was packed to the hilt. It was buffet style with the one minor difference being that instead of fresh off the grill, the meat was fresh of the butcher's knife. You gathered all the raw animal and vegetable you wanted and brought your killings back to the table to cook on hot pots. Everything was delicious, the atmosphere was phenomenal and after ice cream, we left plump and happy. It was a great finish to my Thai journey. With heavy eyelids and a heavier heart I left the next morning at 5-something-or-other for the airport and by 2pm I was in Chennai.
It was Septembe first and I had remembered my rabitrabitrabits that morning so luck was on my side. At baggage claim, a clean cut indian struck up a conversation with me and then offered to help me find a taxi and then offered to drive me part way to my guesthouse and then offered to show me his family's house and then offered to have me for lunch. Sailesh and I were fast friends, he is one of the most cheerful, generous and down to earch people I know. Ever. Really I feel that the God or Gods or Buddha or somebody upstairs was looking out for me the moment we crossed paths. Sailesh's parents, though slightly more reserved, brimmed with kindness as well.
Lunch. Of course I excepted the opportunity to eat witha family, but of crap, I thought, I've wated no time putting my table manners to the test. Here it is the polite way to use the right fingers to mix rice with the dishes served along side, scoop of a mouthful and shovel it in with the thumb. This being a new motion for me and me being lefthanded, I stuggled a little and felt as though I was making an awful mess of the task, but I looked around and other hands were jsut was food covered as mine. We finished lunch--rice, dahl, potatoe masala or something like that, flaky flatbread and spinch or something like that. I thought it was delicious and the Modis assured me this was just regular run of the mill fare--probably looked like someone going gaga ove a turkey and cheese sandwich. Ah well. This was one heck of a turkey and cheese sandwich. After looking as some pictures with Sailesh and his mom I was on my way.
The rest of the afternoon and evening I spent walking around taking in the sights and checking out places to stay, answering emails and prchasing an Indian phone. While walking I really began to feel India. Everything here is saturated--color, noise, smells, traffic, shops, people (especially people)--everything. It is just A LOT. Beacuse I've been traveling in SE Asia, not many things are totally foreign--the autoautos are tuktuks, the motos are motos, it's polluted, people walk in the street, there are small food stands along the roads and so on, but here however much or many of something I saw, it's 10 fold. What's more, I was convinced for a while that I was literally the only foreiner in all of India. To be perfectly blunt, I saw 2 other white people from a distance one time and then no others for a day and a half and that was while I was walking everywhere and out and about. Later today (tuesday) I met some nice US girls doing a study abroad program, but really the absence of touists is shocking. I got togther with Sailesh agian tonight and we went to a couple of trendy bars for some live music which was fun and we're gonna hunt down some easfood tomorrow for lunch. Schlurp!

Choose My Own Adventure!

2008-08-30T10:39:00.001-07:00

Well, frankly I've been dreading writing this one because there's so much to tell , and while I've been procrastinating more has happened of course, so I suppose another will be soon to follow. For this one, I decided writing 'I did this' and then 'I did that' would be rather dull so this format will allow you, the reader to skip around and pick what suits your fancy or just read a couple of sections or just the bumps in the road marked by ***MISHAP*** or of course you can read straight through and be run of the mill if you like. (again for this one, sorry about the length...) Last week, Teddy and I took a trip to Pai and Soppong up in the hills NW of Chiang Mai and here's how it went:

A. Roads: The bus ride from Chiang Mai to Pai and back was an adventure in itself. Although we splurged for AC and space on the minibus (the $1 or $2 extra was worth it) snoozing those 3-4 hours away was not an option. As the bus climbed this hill and that handling the sharp turns like a pro, we listed left and right--it was an endless battle to try not to encroach on your neighbor's space (gave that up after an hour or so) Luckily, there was in transit entertainment right outside the window [Views Jump to C] We arrived in Pai, took it easy that afternoon [Pai Jump to F] and the next day picked up bicycles down the road from our bungalow and headed to Mhor Pan Waterfall. ***MISHAP*** The bikes were a dismal idea on the way there--the roads climbed steeply nearly every inch of the 8km and our tires were lacking air pressure, a lethal combination which forced us to hop off and push then pretty much the whole way. Hiking up dirt roads with extreme inclines, at around noon on a murderously sunny day in flip flops was sweaty and exhausting and the waterfall seemed destined never to turn up but after 2.5 hours give or take, it finally did and we had a nice swim and felt refreshed. Thank goodness that the opposite of up is down! The bikes were aces on the return trip--possibly the loveliest bike ride I've ever had [Views Jump to C]. Whizzing down hills in the open air, breeze in our faces, no pedaling required, it was the perfect reward for out efforts-by the way, it took us 10 minutes to get back. I'm not kidding.
After that escapade, we ditched the bikes and opted for motorized transport instead. We took out newly rented moto to a mountain Wat on the other side of town [Views Jump to C] and then to Soppong the next day. We thought this journey would be quite manageable sticking to the main roads linking them and well...it was , but not entirely--***MISHAP***coming around on of the sharpest and steepest switchbacks (there were many) the motorbike we which we lovingly named Gus slowed to a crawl and we sorta went off the road and tipped over...But no worries! We came out unscathed less a few scarpes and a small thai tattoo froV the carb (souvenier I guess?) which are healing all together nicely. The rest of the hills were no trouble for Gus who worked his way up each one with the two of us and our back packs in tow. Well done Gus! Actually the drive on the winding roads carved into the hills was really wonderful expecially on the return trip (same physics apply here as for the bikes) [Views Jump to C] Over all, the transportation aspect of the trip went smooth as silk, we got to where we were going safe and sound and in good time.

B. Food: Just a few quick notes about this piece. Good eats may not alays be the main attraction but they can make or break any day so here goes. Upon arrival to Pai [Pai Jump to F] we hit a coffee shop to figure out out plan and I slurped down the most refreshing lemon blended ice thing I think I've ever tasted--the perfect combo of sweet and tart for a fat 50 cents. (I love this country). A pink VW vam doubling as a coffee stand served up bright coral colored thia style tea that streamed down my throat in just the right way on a misty morning. Ted and I decided to gamble on a pizza place (hadn't attempted finding italian food since the states) and we were very pleasantly surprised--gratzi Pai! I managed to stumble upon rice crispies in a no name convenience store and gobbled them up for dinner one night and breakfast the next. See I've been missing cereal like crazy since there's no real distinction between thai breakfast, lunch and dinner, so Jackpot! While Teddy was napping (sleepyhead) I shared a couple of rotis (roti=deliciously sweet and sloppy thin pancakes with a banana, egg, raisins and other yummy things in them made on the spot and drizzled with condensed milk) with some really nice guys I I can pass..?)

We were able to eat where we liked in Pai but Cave Lodge--our next place of residence [Caving Jump to D, Hiking Jump to E] was 8 km past the nearest real town so we ate there pretty much exclusively during our stay. Thankfully, they served up hot breakfasts to fuel the day and yummy thai dinners which we gobbled up after much needed showers. We ate in the big teak wood lodge (appropriately) which had lovely breezes and a little swing and a the snuggliest cat ever to keep you and your eggs company.

The cherry on top was passion-fruit bubble tea just before the bus ride home [Roads Jump to A] I'd been craving it since we got to Pai on the way in but the lady who's stand it was sitting there looking delicious had been on vacation. Yum, I do love a good bubble tea!

C. Views: If I didd each on e justice, I'd have to write a novel , so maybe you'd better plan to see then yourself sometime, but here are the spark notes:
Bus ride and motorbike ride [Roads Jump to A]: Through clearings in the trees and at high points on the winding roads, we caught sight of the foothills of the himalayas stretching as far as the eye could see; covered in green, meeting blue sky with clouds like out of a story book.
Bike ride back form Pai's waterfall [Roads Jump to A]: green green green cornfields and rice paddies touched by bright sun leading up to ranges of hills surrounding Pai's valley, dirt road ahead winding through the fields waitng for us to speed past as though flying.
From Pai's Wat [Pai Jump to F]: We reached the top just in time to view rain showers rolling into town from afar. The dark clouds in layers of gray and blue and the fast changing and swirling mist around the mountains was menacing and majestic.
Big hike [Hiking Jump to E]: same same but different. Here we got a closer look at the tree covered limestone's features jutting out this way and that, sheer faces and sharp valleys with streams cutting through the green fields at their bottom. The extra bit to the cave allowed us to look down into valleys filled with green growth and touched by sun. The sky was the bluest blue and the hills were the greenest green and at this point you may as well just go there soon because I feel I'm repeating myself.
Hike to Spirit Well [Hiking Jump to E]: a big mountain on either side framed a pretty picture--close; the small village where we'd come from, beyond that, bright crops sparkling in the sun and that mountainous backdrop that never got old or boring as much as we looked on. Sigh.

D. Caving: Upon our much anticipated arrival at Cave Lodge after a mildly bumpy motorbike ride [Roads Jump to A] we picked our bungalow and barely had a moment to breathe in and our again before leaving for a caving excursion that afternoon. It would have been nice to feel collected and relax briefly but we gave that up in exchange for a rockin couple of hours in stead. We climbed into 2 person rafts (my guide's name was Wat) and floated down the river to the entrance of Tam Lod cave. We viewed stalactites and bat holes by head lamp as we drifted through all too quickly. We tied up at the exit and hopped out to see some caves on foot. ***MISHAP***No one bothered to mention before we left how much we would be out of the boats and climbing around slippery muddy rock and slatted stairs in the dark so naturally I'd worn flip flops. Hmph. Not helping matters, my headlight was so dim I actually could not tell if it was on or off. Seeing the cave without falling on my face presented a challenge but, there was payoff for my struggles. The coffin caves were pretty sweet. (They're coffin caves because they house what are thought by researchers to be coffins made of teak wood which lasts forever--in this case over 1000 years. I know that's neat in theory, but I couldn't quite muster excitement over some old slabs of wood. However, the rock formations and soda straws and bats were enough to oogle themselves. Awesome. then back to the rafts for some rapids to complete a full day. Cave Lodge, shower, meal [Food Jump to B], book, bed. The next day found us on a long hike [Hikes Jump to E] which eventually led us to Tam Long Yao. We followed our guide crawling army style through the low muddy entrance, and after that we could stand and walk through comfortably; this one seemed to go back and back forever. WE walked back and back for maybe 10 or 15 minutes and still hadn't reached the end but figured we ought to turn back as we were short on time. We hustled back for the swift show at Tam Lod [Hikes Jump to E] and made it just at the right time. Swifts are tiny birds which look a lot like bats (I kept making this mistake) and navigate by echolocation which really makes them look like bats, but they are out and about during the day and when the sun sets, they all go rushing back to Tam Lod cave or their beauty sleep. We arrived in time to see them flooding in; thousands on thousands on thousands--I mean, wow. A LOT of swifts. We went further in to the cave for a different view which we received along with a fair amount of swift poop raining down on us, shortly after which we decided we were tired and hungry and dirty (no question there) so we went to Cave Lodge once again to remedy all of the above ailments. And that's just what we did.

E. Hikes: Monday was our big hiking day. After motorbiking to Cave Lodge [Roads Jump to A] and rafting and sliding through Tam Lod [Caving Jump to D], we were ready to keep our feet on the ground for a little while so we decided to pack lunch and set off with out new friend Dani (the only other guest at Cave Lodge that day) for some hills. Hills. Yes, hills were certainly what we got, and lots of them--good ones. We had a lovely sunny day and blue skies, but along with the lovely part came the heat. We sweated up and up and up the steep steep steep grades to the top of a N to S running ridge and then sweated back down the other side to tiny Baan Mueang Paem village enjoying the views along the way of course [Views Jump to C]. There Teddy and I arranged for a local to take us to Tam Lang Yao, a cave 30-45 minutes walk south of the village. Dani stayed put to socialize with the local women and watch them weave. Our guide darted onto a small mud pathway winding through trees and Ted and I raced after him trying desperately not to slip on the mud and wet rocks, pausing to haphazardly snap a picture at openings in the trees. We waded through streams and picked out way around overgrowth finally reaching the entrance to the cave [Caving Jump to D]. On the way back, he was just as quick and again we scrambled after him and were pretty well covered in sweat, mud and dirt upon our return, but the views on the hike were worth the trip themselves. (Of course our guide came out without so much as a smudge from the journey.) As soon as we arrived back a the village we set out for the walk home and quickened our pace so we could get back to Tam Lod before dark in time to see the swifts. [Caving Jump to D]. After retracing our steps and hurrying through the woods up the back of Tam Lod cave, over the top and around to the other side, it was just getting to be twilight--perfect for swift sighting. By the time e got back to Cave Lodge, a long shower, followed by a meal, a bit of reading and an early bed time was all we needed. Using Cave Lodge's hand drawn map and some guestimation, we computed that we logged about 20 km that day--ouch! my quads hurt just thinking about it.
The next day saw us up and out early so we could squeeze in a smaller hike before heading back to Pai on the bike. [Roads Jump to A] We made our way to a Black Lahu village not to far on the bike and then got a local to take us up to the Spirit Well. The Spirit Well is basically a huge hole beginning at the topp of a V connecting neighboring mountains and stretching down a couple hundred meters give or take. Sounded cool at any rate. I must admit, this being day number two, my legs screamed a bit louder. This in addition to shin splints and a fat blister in wet hiking shoes threatened to make to journey more painstaking than enjoyable, but once again, scenic views saved the day. The ones on this hike are among my favorites for sure [Views Jump to C] Just when I couldn't go further, we reached the Spirit Well and sadly were forced to view it sort of from afar--we couldn't quite peer over the lip but our imaginations served us instead. What we could see was pretty neato though. We came down just as we had gone up only the opposite of course and I'll say that I was glad to have two feet on flat ground and happily shroud in dry flip flops. Phew!

F. Pai: With only three traffic lights (barely necessary ones), Pai doesn't have a lot of ground to cover but this hippy-dippy town as it was aptly described to Teddy and I before we departed, is well worth the trip up curvy mountain roads [Roads Jump to A]. VW vans are around every corner and funky stores, relaxed cafes and food and snack stands line the streets. Yummy treats [Food Jump to B], green mountainous surroundings [Views Jump to C], live music and friendly faces make Pai a lovely place to pass a few lazy days. Our guesthouse was a pocket of cute bungalows tucked down a side street and had free bananas for its patrons (that's us!) A couple doors down from Breeze of Pai bungalows was a place called Eatable Jazz where I spent a satisfying evening (Ted sleeping the hours away) sipping on green tea, chatting with the bartender Bud (or the thai version of the name Bud) and soaking up some of the best live music I've heard in a good while. (The live music we heard at the Buffalo Exchange the previous night was also notably enjoyable.) Pai was the ideal place to escape city smog and stress without giving up that morning cup 'a jo.

Doi Chiang Dao

2008-08-20T19:33:00.000-07:00

The simple quiet ways of monastery life are now a distant memory; I've been on the go since the bell chimed to end my stay. I headed straight to Chiang Mai where Teddy kindly met me at the airport and we headed back to Ratchamanka Soi 7 where his apartment can be found in the the SW corner of the old city. I arrived at night and the next morning we packed up and and headed to Chiang Dao for a quick overnight visit.

Though Chiang Dao is only an hour or two busride outside the city, it feels worlds away. We stayed in the small town situated at the base of Chiang Dao Mountain (Doi Chiang Dao). There isn't much to do aside from exploring the caves and admiring the sceenery. We did both--we took a tour lead by oil lamp and along the way our guide likened various formations to various animals (some were a stretch some weren't) and luckily Teddy was able to translate. He continues to impress me with his thai--the lessons he took were money well spent for sure, and basically, I'm 100% jealous. Try as I might just to pick up a few words, it seems hopeless without classroom instruction. The caves were neat, but honestly paled in comparison to the vistas. Our bungalo overlooked rice paddies leading up to Chiang Dao mountain--a breathtakingly gorgeous sight, it towers impressively over neighboring hills and is constantly accented by low lying clouds that encircle and hide various parts of its lush greenery. We spent the better portion of our short stay ooing and ahhing at this mountain from different angles begotten by various modes of transportation (walking, biking, motorbiking..) and had a lovely time doing it. At one point we climbed an endless (not kidding) staircase littered with funny signs (like 'you can revitalize when you are tired, but you can't live once you are dead' or something to the effect) that finally culminated at a Buddhist temple seated way up on the side of Doi Chiang Dao with a spectacular view over the town to the layers of green, blue and gray mountains beyond. Having had our fill of delicious food (our guest house 'Rainbow' served a multiple course feast that was scrumdidlyumptous) and pretty sights, we came back feeling refreshed.

Over the next couple of days, Teddy plunged back into work and I explored the city on foot in search of thai massage courses and yoga studios. I had multitudes of success with the former and close to nil with the latter, but I did manage to find one yoga place still in existence and listed under the correct address that offers a few classes a week so I will give that one a go soon. And the thai massage course begins Monday. Chiang Mai is every bit as charming as other tourists I spoke to led on. Though still filled with the hustle, bustle and smog of city life, Chiang Mai has a comfortable, manageable feel and offers some peace and quiet and a few cute coffee shops down every soi. There is a nice balance of tourists and locals here. The old city is a square mile encased by a moat which helps with navigation, most places are within a short walk of each other and Chiang Mai Gate Market serves up some of the best grub you can find for nest to nothing. Teddy's two roommates and all of his coworkers whom I've met so far are lovely, cheerful and kind. If I didn't have a ticket to India in 2 weeks (holy molicans! that's rapidly approaching) I may never leave! (Don't worry Teddy, I'll get on the plane) Better just savor these last days in Thailand and plan the return trip later :)

Shhhhhhhhhhhh

2008-08-13T09:43:00.000-07:00

Ah, it's good to be back! As you may have now deduced, I have made it through 10 days at the monastery and am no worse for the ware. BE FOREWARNED: this entry will be LEEEEEENNNNNNGGGGGTTTTTHHHHHYYYYYY, but it's 10 days worth all saved up for your reading pleasure, so just deal...or skim if you prefer. For lack of other ideas, I will begin at the beginning and end at the end. When I arrived at Wat Suan Mokkh, I discovered to my great dismay that no journaling, reading, listening to music or any other forms of entertainment were allowed--that was the first time I considered walking out. I had planned to journal my little heart out, jotting down every thought and brilliant insight that was sure to come along; sadly journaling was deemed a distraction form yourself, a diversion for the mind and was thought to lessen the benefit of the experience. Ok. I get it already. Almost in tears (it was like parting with close friends really) I turned in my journal and all my books to remove temptation from my world. I got the abbreviated tour (as, unbeknownst to me, (stupid website) I had arrived a few hours late...) and then went to put my things in my room or should I say...cell? Here lies the second time I considered leaving--I opened the padlock on door 107 (one in a line of many in a rectangular courtyard) to be greeted by a room constructed entirely of cement--floor, walls, bed, small window...that was pretty much it. Yes the bed was cement. No, no mattress on it, just a cement shelf. To be fair, there were a few extra items to make the room more cozy: a bamboo mat (thickness=10 sheets of paper at best), a small wool blanket (useless in warm weather), a mosquito net (because the walls were latticed at the top so to make sure bugs and creatures have easy access) and a wooden pillow. Wooden pillow. If you can think of a better oxymoron, please let me know. I was quickly instructed how to remove stinging centipedes, snakes and scorpions from my quarters should need arise, there was a short info session for practical matters, the vow of silence was instated and then lights out around 9:15. Tired from the previous nights moonlight boat ride, running on only a few hours rest, I fell asleep without terrible trouble until the big bell woke us up at 4am. I had been worried about waking up, but as promised (with a wink and a knowing smile) by the staff, the bell was unmissable. Then the really hard part began.

We were scheduled from 4:30am-9:00pm (see schedule HERE) every day with only two meals and tea for sustenance (and three coinciding breaks). But, some things were looking up, for one--breakfast was acceptable--rice glop with the occasional red bean, greens and bananas on the side and tea. [Note: actually this got old after about 2 days, maybe 3 and by the end of 10 I could barely touch it, but it seemed okay at the time.] For another, lunch was really delicious--this one held through--usually tea, rice, a veggie or tofu stew of some sort, often curry, another veggie/noodle dish and sometimes a third vegetable on the side and maybe rambutans for dessert if we were lucky. And at tea time, we had hot chocolate or sweetened tea (both yummy) which was great except a few times we had this other weird milky drink I didn't much care for, it was a gigantic let down when I saw that i the pot. Also, there was a natural hot springs available for out indulgence after breakfast and tea. I made a habit of going there after tea and then showering at the outdoor showers there. I was one of many who adopted the routine as the alternative for bathing was to use the big basins of water at the dorms. WE were required to have sarongs covering ourselves at all times so that meant holding the sarong with one hand, pouring water over your head from a dish with the other and scrubbing your hair with a third...wait a minute...well it was a challenge in coordination to be sure. However, I doubt that a dip in a sizzling natural pool followed by a cool refreshing outdoor shower can be beat in terms of pleasant after tea rituals, especially if the tea was actually hot chocolate. It was a luxury easy to grow accustomed to and hard to give up, but it was a well deserved pleasure.

At the end of the first day, I looked back and could not see the beginning, I looked forward and 9 more days seemed like eternity plus one ion and then some. Though I was determined to complete the program, I thought I may actually be at risk of passing into the afterworld (if there is one) first. Over the following couple of days, a number of changes took place. The most helpful in shifting my attitude about the place was that I adjusted quicker than I thought possible to the early starts. The mornings remained my favorite part of every day. Rising while the stars are still twinkling, a candle lit reading, peaceful meditation and yoga with a slow sunrise in the background is one heck of a great way to kick the day off right. [Note: the yoga teacher was unfortunately boring as ever--same measly routine everyday--but it was a blessing in disguise because it gave me practice coming up with my own sequences as I marched to the beat of my own drum in the back and this way, every session was, frankly, superb.] Rather than a struggle , as I had anticipated, silence was easy, comfortable, peaceful. It's something I already miss, even after just hours. It lifted many pressures and allowed full focus to be dedicated to the task at hand whatever that may have been--eating lunch, washing clothes, walking from point a to point b; small tasks were simple, pleasant, stress free. The days got easier with a bit of practice and actually passed at a, not fast, but certainly steady pace. I doctored up my bed with my yoga mat and a snagged meditation cushion or two--not really something to fall into per say, but livable.

Sadly, not every change that occurred was for the better. The more I learned about Buddhism, the more dis-enamored I became with it. My mind sometimes wandered to what I might be writing in this entry and I must admit there were moments when I thought of using it as a forum to express my dislike, frustration, even my anger at what was being taught, but I've decided that such an expression is better left for smaller more individual discourses--rest assured I will take you up on the opportunity to express my views with enthusiasm. A crucial point I must mention though, is that unfortunately, anapanasati meditation (the type we practiced at Wat Suan Mokkh) is intimately linked with the Buddhist belief system or way of life, as they would put it. This made it terribly hard to stay motivated to practice with the necessary concentration.

On day 5 I took my concerns to a 15 minute chat available for trouble and talked to Khun Reihart--a lovely cheerful staff member. It looks like all of his teeth have fallen out and been pasted back in again, but he somehow manages to have a delightful smile that illuminates both his face and yours momentarily. He gave me just the perspective I needed to carry on; I was then more able to take what I deemed valuable information and leave the rest to dissipate into the wind. Day 6 I found the pace of my thought slowed, the volume lowered. I've never experienced a quiet mind, but there were moments even, when I thought of nothing or rather had no thought and they were blissful in their own right (but fleeting as moments often are). A few really persistent thoughts continued to interrupt my meditation sessions, time and time again carrying my attention away form my breathing where it should've stayed put. Walking meditation kept my thoughts still a bit more which was a happy success.

Days went by as they're prone to do, I learned a new kind of exhaustion--that from sitting on the floor with only a few cushions and from concentration to the point of frequent headaches. My joints creaked and popped in ways they never had, my limbs went numb on and off, my brain felt sleepy and sore like after a long study session--but I took joy in small things--a cool breeze, a small exchange of smiles, a warm cup in my palms, the nuzzle of a monastery cat, the waxing moon, the flicker of a candle. Suddenly it was day 9. On this day, every talking/chanting session was replaced by meditation to own our rhythm. This meant we could stand, sit or walk when we pleased, but we had to grind through a total of 9 plus hours of meditation in one day. Needless to say, this day kinda hurt, but like the others, it too passed by, and then there we were at day 10. Our numbers had gone from 68 to 45 over the course of the retreat. I never saw anyone leave--a pretty good trick that speaks to the quality or the staff--but the meditation hall got slowly but noticeably emptier. Everyone left at the end could be proud just to be present. We each had a few minutes to speak our piece at the microphone the last night--it was fun and fascinating to hear everyone's voice, learn where they were from and get their insights, quips and occupations. The silence was officially broken on the morning of Day 11 and we had a few hours to socialize. There are too many great background stories to recount. I t was a joy beyond words to finally discuss our shared experience, validate our opinions and struggles and laugh at our difficulties. I parted with a soft melancholy in my heart--so many lovely people, and not enough time to get to know them better.

Hmmmm... final thoughts...I'm glad I went through with the retreat for sure--100%. I don't think anapanasati will be the style of meditation I intend to practice daily, but there's the rest of my life to find that. What's more I got to know myself a bit better--never time wasted and took away a large handful of insightful tidbits for life and living it well. Journaling was discouraged but we were free to jot down knowledge gained so whenever some words worth putting into print passed my way, I remembered then for later recording. The longer version of numbered lessons can be found here, but the cliff notes are these:

you and nature are of the same so treat it with care
a smile passed back and forth between strangers can turn two days around
let go of the past, don't worry about the future, your happiness is in this moment
try to be fully present in everything you do and say
let love and compassion dominate your exchanges with others
the care of family and close friends can release you from suffering

May sunlight peep though the cracks between your obligations today and every day after. If you have 10 minutes or even 5, maybe try sitting still and quiet and being with yourself. It isn't the American way--I know this--but doing nothing can be doing something if you make it so.

Yada yada, don't let my new found wisdom overwhelm you, sending smiles for miles!

Don't worry, I've made friends but I've also had time to do cockamamie things like this :)

2008-07-30T19:56:00.000-07:00

I don't know why or how this idea came to me but I know at least one person (hi mom!) who will appreciate it--if you'd like to try too, sing these words to the tune of 'Raindrops on Roses' from the Sound of Music (and also incidentally, my childhood):

Little black doggies who snuggle up for sunsets
Hamocks to swing in made from colorful nets
Scuba tanks that bump the boat with a cling
These are a few of my favorite things

Crystal clear waters and green sunny hill tops
Palm trees on beaches and smiles at small food shops
Breathing out bubbles that float up in rings
These are a few of my favorite things

Sea drops on long tails and bright colored fishes
Hot spicey curries and other yummy dishes
Little silver sting rays with light on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things

When the skeeters bite
When the sun burns
When the motos are loud
I think of a few of my favorite things and that makes me miss Koh Tao

Not bad eh? It's been a lovely stay in Koh Tao (apart from bites and burns--I wasn't joking). Yesterday I spent a couple blissful hours splashing around in Hinwong Bay--one of the best snorkling sights around--with another american I'd met earlier (this is kinda cool and I think I may have sat on that very rock, no joke http://www.shopart.com/thailand/rockybay.html). I perched on a submerged rock and had fish swimming all around me and through my legs not caring one way or the other what I was up to. I swam thorugh a huge school (100's upon 100's) of tiny (maybe 3 inches?) silver fish and watched them frantically scramble out of the way--they were so cute, all changing direction together as if they were saying "Monster!!! Go left! No right! No leeeft! Ah!" poor guys. I floated on top of the water which was calm as glass and let the tide carry me a bit before swimming back in. All in all a pretty glorious afternoon. I've met tons of nice people here and enjoyed the underwater wonders but it's time to move on.

Next stop: Wat Suan Mokkhaphalaram (or just Wat Suan Mokkh for short) an old Buddist monastery in a wooded area near Chaiya outside of Surat Thani on the south side of the gulf. There I will be participating in a 10 day silent meditation (more information found here: http://www.tribe-yoga.com/Meditation.html) which should be throughly challenging no doubt. That means no new blog entries or emails or phone calls or facebook messages until the 10th or 11th of August at which time, unable to contain myself, I most likely will spill approximately 10 days worth of thoughts in one big word garble. I hope not. Better would be that by the 3rd or 4th day silence is easy (got that song reference anyone? if so, cheers to you) and I come out feeling calm and refreshed and ready to take on the world or at least the unremitting pandemoniun that I expect to encounter in India. Certainly being deprived of contact with loved ones like you all will be the hardest part, but know that you will be in my thoughts (or rather just a little outside them if I can manage to meditate properly). Cheerio for now!

Breathing Under Water is Coooooool.

2008-07-29T03:24:00.000-07:00

After a day of regrouping ie being an online junkie in Bangkok, I headed to Koh Tao--a tiny islandin the middle of the Thai gulg just north of the better know Koh Samui and Koh Phangan. Though small, Koh Tao has a lot to offer, but it's gifts are mostly submerged. It's no surprise that Koh Tao is known to be a scuba diver's paradise as dive sites dot its coasts on either side and you can't wak 10 meters down Sairee Beach with out tripping over another dive shop just begging to take you on as a student. So I threw my hands up and signed on for a 4 day PADI open water certification course. Happily for me, Koh Tao is one of the most cost effective places to get certified as well. My course of choice as Seashel Dive Resort included instriction in and out of the water, 4 open water dives and accomodation in a pretty basic but overall suitable bungalow 150 yards or so from the beach (no view out the window but I've got legs) just big enough for 1. My only gripe if I'm allowed to have one is that there's no hot water--many other places I've stayed have shared to deficiency, but rather than a cool refreshing douse after sweaty sightseeing, I have a painfully chilly rinse after an already sufficiently cold and wet boat ride. (oh yeah and gripe no 2 might be that the mosquitoes are eating me alive!) Ah well, I live.

AS for the diving portion of the package deal I must admitt I was a tak nervous for the non-classroon segment--yeah the scuba part. The first few times going under in the shallows (where we practiced on our knees to start) I found myself inhaling long and deep from my mouth piece (regulator) before ducking under the surface as though I'd have to hold my breath, then I'd remember, exhale, inhale cautiously, woah I'm still under water and breathing taboot--sweet!

Like most things worth doing, scuba takes practice and requires the safe dismissal of a few basic instincts. Fortunately, 10 minutes in to my first open water dive I was hooked. Weigthless as though in outer space I floated along with the 2 other students in my class behinde our instructor Emma and savored my time in this other world. And another world is really the only way to descrive the experience I think. You don't see any fish drifting by your house peeping in, but lucky for us we have the opportunity to be voyeurs at the windows of sea life. I dunno what the heck the Little Mermaid was thinking giving all this up just for some guy--she must have major psychological issues by now!

Okay so I'm no expert, like any beginner, I struggled at the start to maintain my buoyancy--first siking to the bottow like a rock and thinking "Ah! Dagnabit!" (or some other explitive of frustration and panic) and then quickly take a huge breath to avoid bumping the coral at the bottom bc it'll be injured and so will you probably at which time I rose like a bubble towards the surface. My path through the water was something like a sign wave--or cosign if you prefer (yes calculus is good for something!) But after a couple dives, I had it better fifured--breathe normally--not as exciting but more effective to be certain.

Over the course of my 4 dives, I saw some pretty cool swimmers the highlights being: big boy trigger fish, x-mas tree worms (i'm not sure whether these aren that rare but they are so cute--little multi-colored plants shaped like, you guessed it, xmas trees that go blup! into their little holes as you swin by and then carefully reemerge when the coast is clear), giant grouper, hexagon grouper, squirrel fish, white moray eel, a clam that could swallow you whole or at least come close, and a super quick little yellow boxfish (he was awesome)

It was funny how some fish looked nicer than others, some had a little scowl and some looked kinda nervous, some looked cooky and some looked like they owned the place. Hopefully as a newly certified PADI diver, I'll be able to use my skills often and fill my log book to the brim, but sadly, I think I may have been spoiled by the richness of the reefs here, forever doomed to be one of those abnoxious people who surfaces and says "This was nice and all, but have you ever been to Koh Tao?."

Good Thing This Blog is Mine...

2008-07-23T07:51:00.000-07:00

(and not yours) because that means I can use it for whatever I want (ah the sheer power of having your own little cyberspace, wow, no one warned me it could go to my head) including just to say this: Hey Ilse! I miss you already! If you are reading this, you must have made it back home safe (which is exactly what I am hoping will happen) and your many connecting flights must have connected just as good connecting flights should. Let's see, it hasn't even been a full day since you left and I'm thinking, hm. things sure feel awfully different here in Thailand... In one swoop my co-bargainer, co-ice cream-eater, co-laugher, co-victim of 'wow this food is tasty but different so now I have a tummy ache'-er, co-movie-goer, co-planner, co-navigator, co-'I really can't believe that just happened'-er, and the only person who can fully appreciate the jokes and references that come to mind as of late, have all gone and gotten on a plane to go half-way around the world with you. Well, shoot! I couldn't have asked for a better travel companion and you will surely be in my thoughts over the coming weeks. I feel like I'll be lost without you (both literally and figuratively) but hopefully this will be one of the oh so very few (hardy har) times in my life when I am completely and utterly wrong. If you turn around and come back, I'll give you....

10 baht...

okay 20.

Hope the next chapter for you is just as amazing but in a less smelly uncomfortable train ride kind of way!

cross oceanic hug,
kocian ocean

Sunny Delight

2008-07-23T02:07:00.000-07:00

Our next stop was Koh Samet on the East side of the gulf of Thailand. We choose this tiny island--its only 7X2.5 km--because it would be an easy commute form Bangkok, however, after a plane, a shuttle bus, two public buses, a motorbike and sidecar (that was interesting), a boat, a sawngthaew and lots of walking, I'm not 100% sure "easy" would be the exact description I'd choose. Nonetheless, we did indeed arrive-- Koh Samet was a lovely getaway and the sunset we watched there was well worth the rigmarole of reaching the place. We splurged on a nicer place than usual 100 feet or so from sandy shores and decided in the morning that the breakfast buffet that came with the room would have sold the place to us in a NY minute. After omlettes made to order, fresh fruit, and too many cups of coffee (ah how we've searched for a rich drip brew like this one) we spent some time relaxing in the sun, swimming and kayaking and then rewarded a hard day's work (riiiigggghhhhtt) with a massage in the shade waves crashing gently in the background. As I will be taking a thai massage course later in my travels I'm chalking that one up to field research--I've always loved the sciences! We reluctantly departed today (well yesterday now that I'm typing this up) and are back in Bangkok to live out Ilse's last day in style. Neither of us can believe we've come full circle already. It seems only yesterday (well maybe 2 days ago) that we were hopping in our first tuk tuk. But after many adventures, new sights, people, tastes and currencies, it's time for this part of our journey to end, which means of course, it's time for the next part to begin :)

What Wat?

2008-07-23T01:18:00.000-07:00

Ankor of course! (and almost 20 others) So far, I've been trying to make these entries enjoyable for my readers (or reader as the case may be...) making light of everything from bargaining to bus rides to buddhas; I hope my sarcasm and wit has come through as intended! However, I must take a pause from jest for this one--I can't seem to find much in the way of silly anecdotes or jokes to recount (save a few small ones) from our time in Cambodia; Ankor Wat and the surrounding temples were/are absolutley spectacular! We've finished our third day exploring and are leaving Siem Reap shortly. Each of the many (many many) temples we visited was mysterious and majestic in its own way. I can't help but be overcome with the sense of something larger at work here. Even the trees that have overgrown the walls and archways, roots snaking through the rubble are some 500 years old or older. To set foot on the same stone floors that kings once trod upon 1000 years ago, to pass under the same doorways, and look out the same windows elicits a feeling everyone should have for themselves once at least, if circumstances allow. We climbed the short and the tall, surveyed the views, admired the carvings, ran our hands over the inscriptions, marveled at the architecture and rose before dawn to watch the sun rise over Ankor Wat (the largest by far and best kept of all the temples). After 3 days of temple viewing, food sampling (mmm milky curries and savory cambodian bbq), and a few glorious midday naps, we feel this part of our journey is complete and we are ready for some fun in the sun--back to Thailand for that!

School is in Session:

2008-07-17T05:45:00.000-07:00

Yesturday for our one day in Saigon/HCM City, we went to visit the Cu Chi tunnels of the Viet Cong and man did we learn a lot!

Lesson #1: many vietnamese were awarded the high honor of "American Killer Hero" (this from an amusing black and white video--it's always good to hear the other side of the story)

Lesson #2: there are 200km of tunnels

Lesson #3: the tunnels took over twenty years to create (starting in 1948)

Lesson #4: 3000 people can fit in the tunnels but 2-300 people can fit and stay for up to 1 week which they often did (that would be way worse than our train ride--whoa that's perspective for you)

Lesson #5: the viet cong set up grenades at the entrances to the tunnels after entering and dismantled them when they wanted to get out (not my style i think)

Lesson #6: vents from the kitchens were over 60 meters away from the actual location to throw the enemy(that's us) off track

Lesson #7: the viet cong put American smells around the entrance to the tunnels by wetting the clothes of the enemy (that's still us) and spreading the sent to throw off the dogs (that was pretty darn smart!)

Lesson #8: old tire scraps can be used to make shoes of all sizes but that doesn't mean they're comfortable

Lesson #9: many many many spikey looking booby traps of all shapes and sorts were used to kill or injure the Americans (one was like that pit trap in Swiss Family Robinson, you know the one I'm thinkin' of?)

Lesson #10: all of the spikey booby traps worked splendidly

Lesson #11: if the spikey booby traps were not leathal at first, surely the victim would die later due to infection as the tips of the spikey parts were dirtied for that puropse exactly (eek)

Lesson #12: B52 bombs weigh 250kg and blow gigantic craters in the ground

Lesson #13: if you are within 100m of one, you could die from shrapnel

Lesson #14: if you are within 3km of one, your ears and nose may start to bleed and you could go deaf

Lesson #15: firing a few rounds with an AK47 at the cu chi tunnels costs a few dollars extra but is pretty awesome (yeah i did)

Lesson #16: tapioca (like the pudding) is kind of like a sweet potato but white and more gummy and tates okay if you cover it in sugar and crushed peanuts

Lesson #17: crouching and crawling through 60 meters of zig zag tunnels gives for one dusty and tired girl but dramatically improves the taste of ice cream

Lesson #18: If you go to the Cu Chi tunnels, aske for Tree (like the number, he says) cause he's definitely the best guide around

An afternoon well spent for sure!

Miss Universe makes a strange appearence:

2008-07-17T05:13:00.000-07:00

After visiting Tam Coc on a beautiful but extraordinarily hot day--Ilse burned her legs and I burned my arms and also had become adept at repairing bikes (the chain on my rental came off multiple times)--we were ready for a nice relaxing overnight train ride. Unfortunately, that was not what fate had in store. I can barely put the agony of this transportation experience into words-- it's a you had to be there kind of situation, but I will say that it was a nightmare in which time slowed to a mere crawl and it was as uncomfortable and disgusting as it was long. Id say wer were no worse for the ware but I pride myself in honesty; it took us a long nap, many showers, a massage and a couple of slower days and early nights to recover.

While in Hue, we booked a few flights and though it cost a bit more, we saved loads of time and recieved peace of mind in exchange for a few extra dong. There isn't a whole lot more to tell about our stay in Hue aside from a few tid bits. We noted with a chuckle that the silverware in our guesthouse was all marked Vietnam airlines and wondered how many flights it took to aquire... When we went to check out we are pretty sure that the receptionist swindled us out of about $10 each which is a lot of money here. There was confusion bc we were paying with dollars and dong--I saw her calculate how much we owed using 16.5 thousand dong to the dollar and how much we paid using 16-- and we are guessing that she slipped some money under the table when we weren't looking which would have been easy to do seeing as we were distracted by the sight of our bags being thrown off the bus we had booked to Hoi An so they could get a move on. Luckily we'd made friends with the tourist agents and the sent a cab to catch us up and the bus had to wait afterall. So there. 10 bucks poorer and we were just glad to be in keeping with our plans and out of Adong Guesthouse.

I've saved a positive encounter to end with however; the morning of our departure, before all that fuss, we visited Bao Quaoc Pagoda--the main place on my adgenda for Hue. After a few close calls on the road and an ignored red light (I got the crazy motto driver) we arrived just in time to see the monds at Bao Quaoc run through their after lunch ritual, chanting and shuffleing form the dining room to their place of worship accross the courtyard. It was peaceful and majestic. One monk came over to talk with us briefly and we had the funniest little chat--after the usual opening questions, he informed us that it was a shame that we weern't in Nha Trang as we could've attended the Miss Universe competition--Venesuela won this year, India the previous and Japan the year before that. "You must really like that competition" we remarked. "Oh no" he said "I just watch it on TV" " well maybe next year we'll come back and see it then" we said surprized to be dicussing next year's beauty pagent with a monk. "It won't be in Vietnam next year--2010 it will be back." and then he had to go or he'd be late for prayer.

oh yeah

2008-07-12T00:22:00.000-07:00

it's probably important to make note after that last entry that the absolutely breathtaking beauty of Halong Bay and later Tam Coc outside of Ninh Binh overshadowed most of our troubles. They both could easily be world wonders in my book (i dunno exactly what impact my book will have on the world but i plan to publish and find out) and Ilse and I carried on generally without regrets but certainly a bit wiser for next time :)

the road gets a bit bumpy...

2008-07-11T02:58:00.000-07:00

oh my goodness, the last couple of days have been, well, a bit of a rough ride. Ilse and I were ready to depart from Hanoi as we were starting to feel a bit uncomfortable in our guesthouse--think staff of 4 guys sleeping in the lobby all day i their boxers and slight vibes of resentment drifting our way bc we didn't book our tour to halong bay through them for twice the cost. I will now relay the last two days as a series of short anecdotes:

Wednesday:
6:30 wake up (ouch that felt early)
7:30 explain to staff that we'd like to use the internet which is not working at all, the guy says "yea yea ok i fix" and then leaves the building
8:00 hotel tries to overcharge us for the room, we correct them
8:15 ask for complimentary breakfast (included in last night's stay), the guy yawns, stretches and goes back to sleep on the couch
9:00 begin to wonder waht happened to our bus which is an hour late, ask to use the phone for a local call and the guys says it'll be 10,000 dong per minute--no way--we find a nice man accross the street who offers to call, we find out the tour has forgotten us
9:05 nice man's partner comes over to demand we pay for the phone call
9:06 we refuse
9:15 get in the cab sent by friendship travel agency
10:00 cab driver misses a turn and proceeds to reverse against oncoming interstate traffic as we bite our nails
10:05 we get on a crowded bus full of confused people who have been waiting at the side of the road for 40 minutes for no apparent reason
1:00 sit through an uncomfortable lunch on the boat with a table of french speakers who seem to be having a lovely conversation
2:00 stop for a look at a once beautiful cave which has since been completely ruined by multicolored artificial lighting--the place looked like a discoteque
3:00 pay 40.000 dong for a 15 min boat ride in a smaller boat that didn't show us much new
4:00 arrive at cat ba island and wait almost an hour for the bus
5:00 get on the jampacked bus and wait another 20 min for the shirtless bus driver to decide we should probably get goin
5:20 pray the bus will make it up this hill and the next
5:40 arrive at hotel on Cat Ba which is near nothing and could have easily been gotten to by boat
8:00 after dinner harrassed by 5 moto drivers to go to town, one offered a very low price (very low-1000 dong) and proceeded to take us 25 meters down the road and back
8:01 the moto drivers had a good laugh
8:15 arrive in town and battle the slowest internet connection of all time
8:45 search for a regular cup 'o joe with out condensed milk, its tough to find
9:45 bombarded by 6 or 7 moto drivers clearly in cahoots and continually blocking our way or grabbing our wrists to get our business (not the best strategy)
10:00 arrive at hotel, thank goodness

Thursday:
7:30 wake up
8:00 go down to check out and have breakfast and realize we left the key in the room
8:15 after looking high and low in the room, i play charades with the cleaning lady to see if she picked it up
8:20 I determine I am not the best charades player
8:25 i go down to the front desk distraught and the manager talks to the cleaning lady who does in fact have the key
8:45 ask for more jelly to go with my bread and hotel server says no
9:00 back on the bus and thenlater on the boat and go back to Halong City without kayaking or swimming both of which were on the adgenda
1:00 bus to Hanoi is crowded and hot and the AC is not really working but the guide will not let us open the windows
2:00 bus has trouble starting after tanking up and half the passengers have to get out and push
2:15 we take a vote and everyone wants the windows open so we do
4:30 arrive in Hanoi, bus drops us 4 blocks away from the agreed upon location and yells at us in Vietnamese when we protest
5:30 I stand out in the rain to try and feel cleaner
5:32 it stops raining-great
6:00 we go to the trave office to pick up the 6:00 bus
7:30 the bus finally comes--it's nice
7:45 the bus drops us at the real bus to Ninh Binh--they've got us on a sleeper bus for only a two hour ride but instead of two little beds they have us jammed into one
9:00 as we are sitting uncomfortably on our narrow platform sandwiched between two couples on their narrow platforms (picture a big family bed in the back of the bus with short dividers), the pop song "Noma Noma" comes blaring over the radio and we have an exasperated laugh
11:00 finally reach our destination after stopping for a half hour 15 min before we got off
11:05 pay a little extra ($12 instead of 6) for a room in the nicest hotel we've stayed in yet
11:45 agree that that shower we just had was priceless

here's a quickie from hanoi

2008-07-08T04:21:00.000-07:00

i'm in hanoi and have been for a day and a half or so and have been wandering the streets since then. I literally mean wandering. it is impossible to navigate here! the small streets aren't labeled on the map and the big streets aren't labeled on the streets, ah! one word: motos. i've never seen so many in my life ever! there are 8 million ppl in this city and 7 million motos to carry them all around and that's a fact. luckily this means that there is no need to look both ways before crossing the street (in fact its best not to) bc you can be sure that 30 motos from each direction are headed straight for you. this activity (crossing the street that is) is a total leap of faith-- look down or straight ahead, walk at a steady even pace and hope that the drivers are competent enough to steer around little old you. so far they have been-phew! time for some pho!

Bangkok countdown:

2008-07-08T03:45:00.000-07:00

PS for the last one: my travel companion got angry that she was listed only as travel companion and she deserves better--her name is Ilse Falk and she's a single civil engineer from new orleans who like long walks on thai beaches ;)

1,2,3...go

Fruits Tasted:
1. mangosteen
2. rambutan
3. dragon fruit
4. durian (well only a lick of a candy flavored like this one bc it's pretty much the most revolting vegetarian food item you'll ever come across)
5. lychee
6.startfruit

Words/phrases learned in Thai (I think I could look up the correct spelling but that's just stupid bc they use characters anyway so phonetic will do fine):

1. sa-wah-tee-ka=hello/ good morning/afternoon/night
2.kop-kun-ka= thank u
3. chai=yes
4. mai=no
5.mai kun ka=no thank u
6. lo gam=goodbye (and also bye bye the cabbie said so that one is used by me a bit more often)
7. ka ru naa=please
8. my pee lie= no problem
9. shurn ka/ pie kan teuh=let's go
10. chun cow=cheers

# of times at an internet cafe in 2.5 or 3 days=4

# showers= many

things i've seen/done/been to or whatever in Bangkok: (the real meat)
1.river canal tour
2.wat arun (the marble temple--too many steep stairs but well worth it)
3. wat po (reclining buddha- I call it lazy buddha cause that's more fun)
4. grand palace (grand it was indeed)
5. wat phra kaew (temple of the emerald buddha--has different outfits depending on the weather, no i amnot kidding)
6. siam sqaure
7.chatuchak market
8.dinner and a movie
9. thai boxing match

you may be thinking...one of these things is not like the others, one of these things just doesn't belong (can you hear the toon?) so yeah, goin to a movie sounds like a silly way to spend a night in Thailand but no!--it is a neccessary cultural experience (at least for the first 10 minutes) and as a bonus, its a great way to soak up some ac. When you buy tickets you must specidy regular or delux (those are different areas of the theater and slightly different prices--regular sits closer upand maybe cranks their necks to see) and you must also specify whether you want honey moon seats or not. Ilse and I thought 'wow! honeymoon seats, yeah! that sounds great! turns out it only means that the arm rest between seats can be lifted for canoodling purposes. oh well, we got them anyway at no extra charge and had a good laugh with the ticket lady.

Once the lights dim, everyone in the theater rises from their assigned seats and the national anthem is played accompanied by a lovely montage video of the king(it might be noted here that this interupted one couple's use of the honemoon seats)--the anthem is moderately long and various pictures are shown: (here's another list but there are too many to number) the king in his military get up, at coronation, with his family, without his family, giving handshakes, patting heads, panning shots with the king in them and close ups of the king, the king in plain clothes, the king in royal attire, in cars, standing on balconies, sitting on thrones, walking along the street, with hair, without hair (mostly without), with the queen, without the queen (also mostly without bc thai ppl just aren't quite as fond of her, a little fond, but not quite as fond) and so on...the king is well-loved by his kingdom fo sho. The anthem was followed by two commercials; one in which an entire sceen from the movie love actually was reenacted--not sure what was being sold but i'm sure there was copywright infringement somewhere there. And a second which is probably one of the most disturbing advertisments I've ever seen--An ad for coca cola involving a scary mime, carnival music and a high pitched cackle... and then we got to see a movie taboot!

Things I've done for luck:
1. wish at lucky buddha
2.rub elephant statue at wat phra kaew
3. roll stone in lion statue's mouth back and forth 3x at the grand palace
4. drop coins one in each bowl along the side of lazy buddha

lucky is almost as well like as the king :)

let's talk about tuk tuks...

2008-07-06T09:52:00.000-07:00

Thought this would just be a fun subject: a tuk tuk is basically a golf cart that swallowed a motorcycle. these colorful little vehicles decked out with lights and streamers zip around all over the city that way and that weaving in and out of the busy lanes which are only a suggestion really. If there's a break in traffic at a red light, it's a signal to go ahead and jump in if you can so the driver restarts the engine with a twist of the key (it was off to save a few drops of petrol before that) and off we go. According to the tuk tuk guide book, it seems that two people walking down the street are surely just waiting for a congenial tuk tuk driver to offer them a ride. Me and Ilse have been taking tuk tuks all over the city and each time we ask the price it goes something like this:
driver: 180 baht
us: no no, it's not far, 70 baht.
driver: 70 baht, 70 baht (pointing to us one at a time signaling that we each pay 70)
us: no no, 70 baht (signaling both of us together)
driver: okay 150
us: 80
driver: 140
us: no. lower. we paid only 80 baht last time, same trip. [...there is no last time, we've never been to that part of town]
driver: mmm 130 baht final offer
us: you can do 100, do 100
driver: 0kay okay

(wow that was longer than I thought to type out!)
we get in and 15 minutes or so into the ride, we realize that actually this place we want to go is quite far away after all and we pat ourselves on the back --$2 is not bad for cross town door to door or wat to wat service (as the case may be). "Khob khun ka!" we say (thanks) and on to the next POI.

I hand wrote this entry planning to put it up later (along with the previous one) early on and even after another day, we've gotten better at bargaining and each time we go somewhere we're a bit more firm on the price and start a bit lower. We've now done one particular trip for 100 baht then 80, then 70 and tonight 50 so I'm thinking the thai probably pay about 10 :) At one point today we were tired and sick of looking a maps and though we knew we were close to our place, a tuk tuk driver, who insisted that he take us where we were going, agreed to take us for 5 baht--we threw our hand up and let him and were amazed to find that it took definitely 5 and maybe even 10 minutes to get there. For our tired feet the ride was worth every single one of the twelve cents-- we may have even thrown in an extra baht if asked nicely.

Lucky Buddha

2008-07-06T06:08:00.000-07:00

After a jet lagged sleepless night following my arrival in Bangkok, I decided to get myself out of the D&D Inn and do some exploring before my travel companion arrived that afternoon. I was walking along with no particular purpose when a persistent salesman (of which there are many s I have recently discovered--no surprise there) caught my attention. He was offering a tuk-tuk ride to a number of city locations for 20 baht (abt 65 cents) I was savvy to this ploy--tuk tuk drivers offer you a tour and then bring you to stores to shop and get a cut of your purchase. I explained that I did not want to spend any money or go shopping and the little man (yeah he was maybe 5 feet) assured me that there would only be one stop for shopping and it was only because a government promotions allowed the driver to get free petrol. I did not have to buy anything and then we'd be on our way.
"20 baht right? only 20 baht total?"
"yes yes"
"okay okay"
and I hopped in, and off we went.
My driver's name was Dotan--he wore a big smile and encouraged me to take my time at each stop, we got along well. The first place we went was the Lucky Buddha. Dotan showed me that\e way--through a scholl yard jumping withkids round to the other side of a small ornate building to the entrance. After slipping off my shoes, I entered just behinde a middle-aged thai man who waved me in and patted the ground next to him. I knelt beside him in front of the big gold buddha and he showed me the proper way to bow three times and then told me a wish and then we bowed together three more times. I think its okay to reveal that I wished for health and happiness for my friends and family; I figure big lucky buddha can probably handle a big wish. After making our wishes, us two sat on the floor in front of lucky buddha and got to talking. He was a teacher at the school I'd just passed and gave me tips on visiting Bangkok and explained that today was a special holiday--buddha's birthday! So everything was cheap--the tuk tuk ride included--taxes were lifted and petrol was free. My encounter with this lovely man made my day completely--lucky buddha seemed to bring me luck on the spot, so my 65 cent ride was worth every baht. (However, me and Dotan did stop at 4 tailors where I spent a fair amount of time refusing offers for handmade suits and by the fourth I'd learned my lesson well--I suppose I deserved that one.)

Greetings!

2008-06-25T13:10:00.000-07:00

Hello all! Welcome to my blog (yea I have a blog!)--I must offer a little disclaimer...I'm new at blogging so I apologize if my blog lacks the glitz of all the other blogs you may be used to reading which are surely more bloggalicious, but I'll do my best. Check this any time you desire to know the latest and greatest happenings over the course of my travels, but personal emails will certainly be cherished to their fullest and answered as soon as possible, so don't hesitate to drop me a line at julia.kocian@gmail.com! Ttfn :)