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!
Friday, November 28, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Balconies and Boulders
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.)
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.)
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Yogic Life
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.
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.
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.
Friday, November 7, 2008
The Grand (Semi-) Finale
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
GOBAMA!!!
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...)
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Holy Days
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
A Tibetan Fairy Land
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.
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.
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