The next day the only thing I did was go to volunteer at Gu Chu Sum. Where to start with this? Tibet has been in my heart since I visited in 2004. Dharamsala has since then held some mythical place in my heart, knowing that it was the home of the Dalai Lama. The real blanket overview story is that Tibet was atrociously invaded by the Chinese government in 1959 and since then, at least 100,000 (a huge proportion considering the entire population is roughly 6 million) Tibetans have been killed, and hundreds of thousands more tortured as the Chinese forcefully take control of the country, in what can only be interpreted as greed, wanting control of precious natural resources, including rivers, minerals, and strategic location. Many thousands of Tibetans have come to Dharamsala, fleeing Tibet, and they have unthinkable stories of walking from Lhasa, the Tibetan capital, all the way to Nepal (from personal accounts I’ve heard the average journey time is 25-30 days of walking through the Himalayas, often times at night, sleeping during the day so as not to be seen), and then they still have to make it to India. This situation grows more complicated as Maoist troops are put in Nepal to prevent them from coming across.
So – Gu Chu Sum. The organization has a program which I helped out with, which takes former political prisoners and puts them through a one-year program in which they are given housing in the center, have intensive studies of English language/grammar, Tibetan language/grammar, computers, Tibetan history, and philosophy. I helped out with the English language portion of the program for the remaining days I was in Dharamsala, and I fell in love instantly and repeatedly with the participants.
My heart connection was with Zonkyi, a nun from Lhasa. I arrived with Sara, a Mexican girl I had met in Amritsar, and she beckoned us over, putting down two cushions for her. She launched shyly, yet eagerly, into her introduction talk, saying how she was involved in the one-year program, and that English was very difficult for her, especially grammar. More students arrived so Sara paired off with another one, but I stayed with Donkyi. She wound so skillfully between all her life stories, telling me of her fateful day at the Jokhang when she was involved in a 15 minute protest in 2001 which was cut short by Chinese troops who beat the nuns (and many civilians) in the street, and resulted in 3 years of imprisonment in Lhasa. The violence, suffering and injustice was interjected with stories of how she has little or no desire to ever again climb another mountain, of how the duties at the nunnery involved carrying things back and forth when their nunnery was being rebuilt, and it was so important to be first because then you could carry something big but light, and if you were late you would be stuck carrying the heavy things. And climbing up ladders with these heavy things, her facial expressions of sheer terror but always with a spark of humor and joyful playfulness.
She spoke of her fellow inmates in prison, in particular a Chinese woman who was falsely framed for stealing from the electronics company that she worked for. When the Chinese lady first arrived, the other inmates, all Tibetan nuns, thought that the Chinese lady turning away from them, refusing to acknowledge their presence, was due to her disgust and hatred for Tibetans. But then the next day they were able to start communicating with her and mutually comforting each other, and then a beautiful friendship formed. When the Chinese lady was released, she came regularly to the prison with her father, bringing food and visiting her Tibetan cellmates, now friends.
And then of course the journey from Lhasa to Nepal. It is something that breaks my heart to know that way too many people in the world know the feeling of not knowing whether you will make it to the other side, to leave everything behind in the sliver of a hope for something better, but no guarantee to survive the perilous path to get there. To be able to tell stories like this with humor, to inspire compassion and laughter simultaneously, is something that I find Tibetans do with great skill. Her walk took 27 days, there were 24 in her party, and 3 did not make it. There were two children, orphans, whom she still keeps in contact with. They are in school in Dehra Dun. She spoke of how heavy her bag was, because it was filled with food and books, and how as the journey went on, from exhaustion she was forced to abandon her precious Buddhist literature, and the food supplies dwindled.
If two people can connect in just two hours – if they are both willing and open-minded and hearted to allow it to happen – if we all did this every day, what would the world be like? This is precisely what the Dalai Lama teaches. Can we practice this? I struggle like hell, despite having experienced countless cases where it does happen for me...day by day, little bit at a time...
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
Dharamsala; Triund, June 6
Triund. I first heard of Triund from the Ghosh’s in Delhi, when we spoke about Dharamsala. It’s the most popular one or two day walk from the area, and I headed that way with Krishnan on Sunday. We had hearty breakfasts at the Green Hotel, and off we went, spinach quiches packed up with us.
Uphill. Lots of it. Like 3 hours of it. But breathtaking views, along with confirming inspirational conversation, made it fly by. I am so grateful for Krishnan’s presence in my life. I really didn’t expect when we first met at Amma’s ashram in January that we would end up seeing a lot more of each other. What really sticks with me from the walk that day is how much I didn’t realize that what I said to him was really how I think, feel, know, right now. I found so many stories and quotes from Sadhguru coming out. Forced to speak about my past, highs and lows, amongst many other things made me really see things clearly. And I am so grateful to be exactly where I am right now in my life, in every way – physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I am totally lost in a lot of ways, having just left career, the concept of home, and relationships – but I am having that settled feeling of knowing that I am exactly where I need to be. Thank you.
To be able to have the financial freedom, and not have responsibilities that bind me to a place, people, and things, is of indescribable blessing.
What also strikes me is how really, truly difficult it is to embody and practice the simplest concepts of spirituality. I really appreciate His Holiness the Dalai Lama for this, because the majority of his teachings are so simple they can be understood by a kindergartener. But the reality is that love and compassion really are that simple; it is hard to wake up every day joyfully, to pay more attention to the love and compassion within us than the incessant noise and negativity that the mind creates; if we can treat each sentient being as such and acknowledge the fundamental desire for happiness, and the end of suffering, that every being in this world has, we can grow exponentially. But it is oh-so-hard.
Sadhguru says so many things that drove me crazy the first time I heard them, more likely than not because I recognized the incontrovertible truth of them but didn’t want to admit them – if we really want to live, why do we say we only want to live to be 80, rather than 160 like the actual maximum lifespan of human beings? How can we claim to love God, some unknown being above, if we can’t love the person next to us? Would God make you/me/one perfect, and mess up on the rest? We see ourselves as perfect so all of creation must be so…there is so much more. I have not delved into Sadhguru’s works so much, perhaps because I recognize that the little I have been exposed to is more than enough to digest and try to have reflect in my life.
Anyway – we made it to Triund, rolling green meadows framed by snow-capped peaks behind - had amazing spinach quiche, and came right back. And then I got so sick.
I really don’t think I ate or drank anything my body couldn’t handle, so it was either sun poisoning or some sort of internal cleansing (Kali/Durga) for the next 24 hours – that horrible simultaneous vomiting and diarrhea…
Uphill. Lots of it. Like 3 hours of it. But breathtaking views, along with confirming inspirational conversation, made it fly by. I am so grateful for Krishnan’s presence in my life. I really didn’t expect when we first met at Amma’s ashram in January that we would end up seeing a lot more of each other. What really sticks with me from the walk that day is how much I didn’t realize that what I said to him was really how I think, feel, know, right now. I found so many stories and quotes from Sadhguru coming out. Forced to speak about my past, highs and lows, amongst many other things made me really see things clearly. And I am so grateful to be exactly where I am right now in my life, in every way – physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I am totally lost in a lot of ways, having just left career, the concept of home, and relationships – but I am having that settled feeling of knowing that I am exactly where I need to be. Thank you.
To be able to have the financial freedom, and not have responsibilities that bind me to a place, people, and things, is of indescribable blessing.
What also strikes me is how really, truly difficult it is to embody and practice the simplest concepts of spirituality. I really appreciate His Holiness the Dalai Lama for this, because the majority of his teachings are so simple they can be understood by a kindergartener. But the reality is that love and compassion really are that simple; it is hard to wake up every day joyfully, to pay more attention to the love and compassion within us than the incessant noise and negativity that the mind creates; if we can treat each sentient being as such and acknowledge the fundamental desire for happiness, and the end of suffering, that every being in this world has, we can grow exponentially. But it is oh-so-hard.
Sadhguru says so many things that drove me crazy the first time I heard them, more likely than not because I recognized the incontrovertible truth of them but didn’t want to admit them – if we really want to live, why do we say we only want to live to be 80, rather than 160 like the actual maximum lifespan of human beings? How can we claim to love God, some unknown being above, if we can’t love the person next to us? Would God make you/me/one perfect, and mess up on the rest? We see ourselves as perfect so all of creation must be so…there is so much more. I have not delved into Sadhguru’s works so much, perhaps because I recognize that the little I have been exposed to is more than enough to digest and try to have reflect in my life.
Anyway – we made it to Triund, rolling green meadows framed by snow-capped peaks behind - had amazing spinach quiche, and came right back. And then I got so sick.
I really don’t think I ate or drank anything my body couldn’t handle, so it was either sun poisoning or some sort of internal cleansing (Kali/Durga) for the next 24 hours – that horrible simultaneous vomiting and diarrhea…
Amritsar to Dharamsala, June 2 2010
Actually all wasn’t golden at the temple. I lost my phone on June 1st…I still don’t know and will never know how exactly. The most likely thing happening is that it fell out of my pocket on my way to or from the bathroom…anyway, the response of the guards and the other pilgrims was overwhelming. The temple has dozens (could be hundreds) of guards, most of whom are wearing deep blue turbans and white robes – and a good portion of them carry around huge spears, or giant swords worn at the waist. Most speak broken English but are somehow hilarious and their kindness transcends language barriers. It took me about 10 minutes to figure out how to say thank you (Shukriya) in Punjabi. Anyway, I communicated about my phone being lost, they frantically called the number, and we set out in a search party of about 10 people for the 100 meters between the dorm and the bathroom. To no avail, but they kept on asking me and calling my number with me over the next 12 hours.
I woke up the next morning, dazed, still worried about the phone…it was my birthday!
And then Thomas appeared. And everything changed. I was already in a beautiful head and heartspace, and then what I really understand as Bhava Spandana, BSP, happened with him. Basically, the concept of BSP is that when two things in nature are vibrating at exactly the same frequency, it’s not 1+1=2, but it’s an exponential explosion. And that’s what this lanky, absurdly gorgeous Brasilian man and I experienced this past 4 days together.
It’s difficult to put into words…I woke up, was sitting on the bed when he comes in, asks me if I know about buses to Dharamsala, and I tell him that I am taking the bus at 12:20 and I have a rickshaw getting me at 11:30, and that he is welcome to join me. Then I ask him where he’s from, he says Brasil, and we pretty much leave it at that. We go our separate ways and meet back. When I came back to pack and shower, he was speaking with an English guy and went to buy bandages for his sprained ankle. Turns out they’re complete strangers but he was helping this guy out. This seems to be an insignificant but huge detail to me…I don’t know how to write about Thomas because there is no way I can do justice to the essence of his being…we get on the bus to Dharamsala, he’s got sparkles (ahh as purpurinas) all over his hair and face that he has no clue how they got there…and so this 7 hour bus ride through insane traffic jams on country roads, bumpy butts, and dry heat as we started the ascent into the pine forests that is Dharamsala, somehow transformed into a dissolving of myself.
Litchis in the bus, sticky hands, pouring water onto a napkin – peeling litchis for me so I didn’t have to get sticky…the cheesiest jokes – Urublue, jacared, yellowphant…buying coconut cookies, complaining that they’re artificial and eating the whole pack…trying to figure out whether the estimated 7 hours travel time already accounted for the major traffic jams on tiny country roads…the whole day I kept talking about mangoes and I was concerned that I wouldn’t be able to find mangoes in Dharamsala…at the end of the day I brought up star signs and he is a Scorpio, and I told him I’m Gemini, actually it was my birthday that day.
We arrived in Mcleod Ganj, Krishnan came to find us, and we made our way to Hunted Hill Hotel. A lovely birthday dinner and birthday dessert, and that was that. The next day we had made plans to go on a hike to a waterfall that everyone talks about, but it rained like crazy in the early morning so that got cancelled. The next 2.5 days passed in a haze, where we seemed to be doing so much but really nothing at all. Just being, and enjoying each other’s company. But really intensely. As S puts it, “intense but relaxed, one hundred percent involvement...” We covered every topic imaginable from vegetarianism and raw food to ethnic genocide in Botswana to tofu types in Japan to dental procedures…
The day after we arrived, we moved to Bhagsu, which is somewhat of a nightmare for me (at the time I didn’t know it would be that way)…a hippie traveler/Israeli enclave…it’s a fine (or not so fine) line between a chilled-out, laid-back place that is welcoming to travelers, and then there is way over the top, no resemblance whatsoever to the original culture(s) that exist there, and a rambling, thoughtless development that is simply put, garish. This area isn’t the worst I’ve ever seen no doubt, but it really wasn’t the Shangri-La I was expecting. But put the negativity aside because as I was swept off my feet in Tibet in 2004, I have learned that anywhere where anything Tibetan by association exists, has indescribable beauty and bliss.
Anyway, on the 3rd we were looking for the Dalai Lama’s temple, got completely lost, and were helped by this American woman nun who has been in Dharamsala for 9 years now. A hilarious personal tour as she grumbled about the false information that the Indian guides give, she told Thomas not to point at deities and offerings, and then he captured her on camera pointing at a cat (but so sweet, she stopped to chat with every single animal we encountered on the way to the temple…)
More meandering in the afternoon and finally around sunset we arrived in Bhagsu, looking for the nameless guesthouse where Manuela’s friend/boyfriend was staying. That proved to be a humorous endeavor, and finally we were all settled in.
Throughout the day he had been going in and out of little food shops and I had no idea what he was buying – I asked a few times and he said “vou fazer um experimento” – I’m going to do an experiment…so we go to dinner, and then – agh! My teeth fell out! Eating pizza…why am I not surprised? ; ) so anyway, I’m mortified, realize that the support on my left side of the bridge has totally broken off, am panicking thinking maybe I have to go to Delhi to get this taken care of, and we decide to go home. At which point Thomas comes out from behind the restaurant counter, candle lit on a cake! I was so shocked. I had zero concept whatsoever that this was happening – from his ingredient shopping I thought he might be making something but the last thing I was expecting was a raw coconut mango birthday cake! I melted. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you.
The next day was spent running around to and from the dentist for me, and for Thomas much of it was occupied helping an elderly man. Well, let me recount about the dentist. India is so funny; going into Dr. Tandon’s Dental Clinic you don’t really expect anything horrible or fancy...in true Indian fashion, the walls are cracked, paint is chipped, bad lighting...the usual. But then he opens up the cupboards and there are these shiny brand new boxes of dental tools and equipment, the majority of which I deduce are made in Germany…so that was that. A few x-rays and a quick procedure (interrupted by an electricity cut, yup, we’re in India) and my teeth were fully restored! For 1850 Rupees! (Roughly 40USD) While I was dealing with my oral drama, Thomas was stopped in the street by an elderly American man who had great trouble just walking. What a heart of gold. He spent over 2 hours while I was running back and forth speaking to this man, about healing and healers all over the world, helping him into a café and literally spoon-feeding him. It was heavy for him in many ways and I hate to sound shallow but my dental stuff was quite draining for me, so after our Thai green curry and somewhat Enchilada-y lunch I headed back alone to Bhagsu to decompress. Thomas was going to go shopping – side note – I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a shopper as indecisive and meticulous as this boy…he was looking for Tibetan singing bowls, it was a good practice for me to accompany him and it was also a nice way for me to interact with shopkeepers without any pressure of buying anything.
So I made it back to Bhagsu, and almost immediately after I got back and got ready to head out to a Classical Indian Music concert, this enormous thunderstorm started, with purple lightning lighting up the whole sky, illuminating the mountains. So I stayed in, and wondered how on earth Thomas was going to make it back in one piece. He came in a few hours later, positively dripping on the floor, and after he got in dry clothes we decided to go eat despite the fact that neither of us were hungry.
Hello to the King. Apparently Hello to the Queen is a common and hugely popular dessert in India – I’d never heard of it! Sliced bananas, Bhagsu cake (OH MY GOD! A thick buttery shortbready crust, a layer of thick caramel just like dulce de leche in Argentina, and dark chocolate on top…insanity), vanilla ice cream, and all sorts of other delectable delights…mmm. Afterwards, we poked around to find a tool to play the Tibetan singing bowls, and back we went. These instruments are so powerful. The vibration they create goes so deep within you, reverberating and unquestionably healing you. Sort of reminds me of the electric charge tools that acupuncturists use. So off I went into bliss-land, and next thing I knew it was sunrise.
Thomas’s last day in Bhagsu. It felt like we had just met, but spent lifetimes together. We finally sucked it up and made it out to the waterfall – totally worth the effort. The trail there is forested, winding in and out of views of the surrounding hills, and when you reach the destination, you are rewarded with stunning green water backed by high limestone cliffs. Lovely. We laid around on rocks, each made painfully shocked faces as we jumped into the instantly numbing water, ate mangoes…bliss. We made it back and headed for lunch at the vegetarian Japanese restaurant which supports Gu Chu Sum, a NGO that supports former political prisoners from Tibet. Our lovely Tibetan waitress used the menu to copy lemon soda onto her pad of paper, adorably self-conscious as she realized I was watching her do it. The focus, intensity, and love with which she wrote out those simple letters was so moving. Stomachs full of agedashi tofu and Japanese style potato salad, warm from miso soup (first Japanese meal since I left Japan 1 month ago), we headed slowly through shops back up towards Bhagsu. How to describe the feeling as we parted ways at the bus terminal? First and foremost, it was an extremely settled, stable, firm grounding. It’s difficult to explain – but it felt like it was time and the time that we had been blessed to share was so auspicious and I had no doubt that each of us was so grateful for the past days together. As is always the case when we part ways, we never really know if we will see each other again. But in this case, I had this certainty that we would meet again, or rather, that we weren’t even separating because we will carry each other within us forever.
Obrigada por tudo querido, desde o fundo do coracao…
I woke up the next morning, dazed, still worried about the phone…it was my birthday!
And then Thomas appeared. And everything changed. I was already in a beautiful head and heartspace, and then what I really understand as Bhava Spandana, BSP, happened with him. Basically, the concept of BSP is that when two things in nature are vibrating at exactly the same frequency, it’s not 1+1=2, but it’s an exponential explosion. And that’s what this lanky, absurdly gorgeous Brasilian man and I experienced this past 4 days together.
It’s difficult to put into words…I woke up, was sitting on the bed when he comes in, asks me if I know about buses to Dharamsala, and I tell him that I am taking the bus at 12:20 and I have a rickshaw getting me at 11:30, and that he is welcome to join me. Then I ask him where he’s from, he says Brasil, and we pretty much leave it at that. We go our separate ways and meet back. When I came back to pack and shower, he was speaking with an English guy and went to buy bandages for his sprained ankle. Turns out they’re complete strangers but he was helping this guy out. This seems to be an insignificant but huge detail to me…I don’t know how to write about Thomas because there is no way I can do justice to the essence of his being…we get on the bus to Dharamsala, he’s got sparkles (ahh as purpurinas) all over his hair and face that he has no clue how they got there…and so this 7 hour bus ride through insane traffic jams on country roads, bumpy butts, and dry heat as we started the ascent into the pine forests that is Dharamsala, somehow transformed into a dissolving of myself.
Litchis in the bus, sticky hands, pouring water onto a napkin – peeling litchis for me so I didn’t have to get sticky…the cheesiest jokes – Urublue, jacared, yellowphant…buying coconut cookies, complaining that they’re artificial and eating the whole pack…trying to figure out whether the estimated 7 hours travel time already accounted for the major traffic jams on tiny country roads…the whole day I kept talking about mangoes and I was concerned that I wouldn’t be able to find mangoes in Dharamsala…at the end of the day I brought up star signs and he is a Scorpio, and I told him I’m Gemini, actually it was my birthday that day.
We arrived in Mcleod Ganj, Krishnan came to find us, and we made our way to Hunted Hill Hotel. A lovely birthday dinner and birthday dessert, and that was that. The next day we had made plans to go on a hike to a waterfall that everyone talks about, but it rained like crazy in the early morning so that got cancelled. The next 2.5 days passed in a haze, where we seemed to be doing so much but really nothing at all. Just being, and enjoying each other’s company. But really intensely. As S puts it, “intense but relaxed, one hundred percent involvement...” We covered every topic imaginable from vegetarianism and raw food to ethnic genocide in Botswana to tofu types in Japan to dental procedures…
The day after we arrived, we moved to Bhagsu, which is somewhat of a nightmare for me (at the time I didn’t know it would be that way)…a hippie traveler/Israeli enclave…it’s a fine (or not so fine) line between a chilled-out, laid-back place that is welcoming to travelers, and then there is way over the top, no resemblance whatsoever to the original culture(s) that exist there, and a rambling, thoughtless development that is simply put, garish. This area isn’t the worst I’ve ever seen no doubt, but it really wasn’t the Shangri-La I was expecting. But put the negativity aside because as I was swept off my feet in Tibet in 2004, I have learned that anywhere where anything Tibetan by association exists, has indescribable beauty and bliss.
Anyway, on the 3rd we were looking for the Dalai Lama’s temple, got completely lost, and were helped by this American woman nun who has been in Dharamsala for 9 years now. A hilarious personal tour as she grumbled about the false information that the Indian guides give, she told Thomas not to point at deities and offerings, and then he captured her on camera pointing at a cat (but so sweet, she stopped to chat with every single animal we encountered on the way to the temple…)
More meandering in the afternoon and finally around sunset we arrived in Bhagsu, looking for the nameless guesthouse where Manuela’s friend/boyfriend was staying. That proved to be a humorous endeavor, and finally we were all settled in.
Throughout the day he had been going in and out of little food shops and I had no idea what he was buying – I asked a few times and he said “vou fazer um experimento” – I’m going to do an experiment…so we go to dinner, and then – agh! My teeth fell out! Eating pizza…why am I not surprised? ; ) so anyway, I’m mortified, realize that the support on my left side of the bridge has totally broken off, am panicking thinking maybe I have to go to Delhi to get this taken care of, and we decide to go home. At which point Thomas comes out from behind the restaurant counter, candle lit on a cake! I was so shocked. I had zero concept whatsoever that this was happening – from his ingredient shopping I thought he might be making something but the last thing I was expecting was a raw coconut mango birthday cake! I melted. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you.
The next day was spent running around to and from the dentist for me, and for Thomas much of it was occupied helping an elderly man. Well, let me recount about the dentist. India is so funny; going into Dr. Tandon’s Dental Clinic you don’t really expect anything horrible or fancy...in true Indian fashion, the walls are cracked, paint is chipped, bad lighting...the usual. But then he opens up the cupboards and there are these shiny brand new boxes of dental tools and equipment, the majority of which I deduce are made in Germany…so that was that. A few x-rays and a quick procedure (interrupted by an electricity cut, yup, we’re in India) and my teeth were fully restored! For 1850 Rupees! (Roughly 40USD) While I was dealing with my oral drama, Thomas was stopped in the street by an elderly American man who had great trouble just walking. What a heart of gold. He spent over 2 hours while I was running back and forth speaking to this man, about healing and healers all over the world, helping him into a café and literally spoon-feeding him. It was heavy for him in many ways and I hate to sound shallow but my dental stuff was quite draining for me, so after our Thai green curry and somewhat Enchilada-y lunch I headed back alone to Bhagsu to decompress. Thomas was going to go shopping – side note – I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a shopper as indecisive and meticulous as this boy…he was looking for Tibetan singing bowls, it was a good practice for me to accompany him and it was also a nice way for me to interact with shopkeepers without any pressure of buying anything.
So I made it back to Bhagsu, and almost immediately after I got back and got ready to head out to a Classical Indian Music concert, this enormous thunderstorm started, with purple lightning lighting up the whole sky, illuminating the mountains. So I stayed in, and wondered how on earth Thomas was going to make it back in one piece. He came in a few hours later, positively dripping on the floor, and after he got in dry clothes we decided to go eat despite the fact that neither of us were hungry.
Hello to the King. Apparently Hello to the Queen is a common and hugely popular dessert in India – I’d never heard of it! Sliced bananas, Bhagsu cake (OH MY GOD! A thick buttery shortbready crust, a layer of thick caramel just like dulce de leche in Argentina, and dark chocolate on top…insanity), vanilla ice cream, and all sorts of other delectable delights…mmm. Afterwards, we poked around to find a tool to play the Tibetan singing bowls, and back we went. These instruments are so powerful. The vibration they create goes so deep within you, reverberating and unquestionably healing you. Sort of reminds me of the electric charge tools that acupuncturists use. So off I went into bliss-land, and next thing I knew it was sunrise.
Thomas’s last day in Bhagsu. It felt like we had just met, but spent lifetimes together. We finally sucked it up and made it out to the waterfall – totally worth the effort. The trail there is forested, winding in and out of views of the surrounding hills, and when you reach the destination, you are rewarded with stunning green water backed by high limestone cliffs. Lovely. We laid around on rocks, each made painfully shocked faces as we jumped into the instantly numbing water, ate mangoes…bliss. We made it back and headed for lunch at the vegetarian Japanese restaurant which supports Gu Chu Sum, a NGO that supports former political prisoners from Tibet. Our lovely Tibetan waitress used the menu to copy lemon soda onto her pad of paper, adorably self-conscious as she realized I was watching her do it. The focus, intensity, and love with which she wrote out those simple letters was so moving. Stomachs full of agedashi tofu and Japanese style potato salad, warm from miso soup (first Japanese meal since I left Japan 1 month ago), we headed slowly through shops back up towards Bhagsu. How to describe the feeling as we parted ways at the bus terminal? First and foremost, it was an extremely settled, stable, firm grounding. It’s difficult to explain – but it felt like it was time and the time that we had been blessed to share was so auspicious and I had no doubt that each of us was so grateful for the past days together. As is always the case when we part ways, we never really know if we will see each other again. But in this case, I had this certainty that we would meet again, or rather, that we weren’t even separating because we will carry each other within us forever.
Obrigada por tudo querido, desde o fundo do coracao…
Monday, June 14, 2010
Delhi to Amritsar, May 29 to June 2, 2010
I did BSP (Bhava Spandana, an advanced program at Isha Yoga Centre near Coimbatore, India) and it was intense and deep and I think that it will only become apparent in the coming weeks how much it has affected me…I flew back up to Delhi and stayed with Iona, which was a gift – one of those instant friendships – and our Saturday night was spent dancing frenetically, completely sober and in pure ecstasy, to reggae DJs (wow, how far can you get from an ashram where you can’t show any skin? Haha) – and eating yummy street delights. On Sunday we lazed and in the evening I headed to the Ghosh house. I love them…this totally liberal progressive Bengali family…so spent a few days in their lovely home that really feels like home, catching up and regrouping before the next leg of my journey…
On Tuesday morning I headed on the Shatabdi express, considered one of India’s best trains, and went to Amritsar. Amritsar is home to the Golden Temple, considered the holiest pilgrimage site for Sikhs. In January I travelled with lovely Darlene for a bit – Canadian girl – in Kerala – and it really stuck with me that she said even though she didn’t consider herself spiritual or energetically sensitive, the Golden Temple for her was a very powerful place. I also did really want to go, because of the Sikh association with Kundalini Yoga (long topic, perhaps another day…) but anyway, there I was. My 20 hours at the Golden Temple hit me. Hard. In the best way possible.
What does religion mean in the modern context? Unfortunately, from what I see and my personal experience, it is often completely the polar opposite of what it sets out to be – speaking of generosity, love, and devotion, but there is more often than not an overtone (or undertone) of superiority, a mentality of you’re either with us or against us, and often obscene amounts of money going in and vagueness regarding where the money goes. Well, the Golden Temple threw all that out the window for me. Before I go into it, let’s put it in the correct context of contemporary India (I apologize in advance for my limited knowledge and experience of India, and if I am making offensive statements here) – what I mean to say is, India isn’t usually an easy place to be. It’s not easy to find things offered for free (this is speaking about public availability, not by any means referring to the overwhelming hospitality and generosity I have had offered to me by many individuals during my journeys here). The Golden Temple has free accommodation – yes, free – donations accepted – for visitors. I arrived and all the beds were already taken, but we were able to communicate that since I was only staying a night I would be more than happy to just put a sheet on the floor.
The place is vibrating, pulsating, with a strong energy – almost like the workings of some sort of factory or ant farm or something…constant buzzing…pilgrims come and it’s 24 hours around the clock activity as they sleep for a few short hours. The bhajans, devotional songs, are broadcast throughout the entire temple grounds…and what really gets me about the Golden Temple, and if I’m not mistaken on this hunch, Sikhs in general, is this complete acceptance of others and their paths, whatever that may mean.
And I know I won’t be surprising anyone referring to the food…but this is really where the temple hit me. Langar is a Sikh term for communal meals that are given for free to anybody – again, regardless of caste or creed – and the Golden Temple has food available 24 hours a day – 24 hours a day, yes – for free. It’s said that they serve 70,000 to 80,000 people a day. Everything in this establishment is done by volunteers, and all funding is by donation. The dining halls are huge, and people line up in rows, seated on the floor as volunteers whiz by piling things on your metal thali plate.
I was invited by some young boys to check out the kitchen facilities which was such an amazing experience. They have a chapatti machine that makes 3,000 chapattis per hour. Then they have about 50 people handmaking chapattis round the clock. An estimated 200,000 chapattis a day are consumed. The pots of curry are the size of small swimming pools…the storeroom houses thousands of kilos of pulses, rice, and spices…incredible.
So my 20 hours at the Golden Temple made me rejuvenated, awe-inspired, and ready to go on to the next adventure!
On Tuesday morning I headed on the Shatabdi express, considered one of India’s best trains, and went to Amritsar. Amritsar is home to the Golden Temple, considered the holiest pilgrimage site for Sikhs. In January I travelled with lovely Darlene for a bit – Canadian girl – in Kerala – and it really stuck with me that she said even though she didn’t consider herself spiritual or energetically sensitive, the Golden Temple for her was a very powerful place. I also did really want to go, because of the Sikh association with Kundalini Yoga (long topic, perhaps another day…) but anyway, there I was. My 20 hours at the Golden Temple hit me. Hard. In the best way possible.
What does religion mean in the modern context? Unfortunately, from what I see and my personal experience, it is often completely the polar opposite of what it sets out to be – speaking of generosity, love, and devotion, but there is more often than not an overtone (or undertone) of superiority, a mentality of you’re either with us or against us, and often obscene amounts of money going in and vagueness regarding where the money goes. Well, the Golden Temple threw all that out the window for me. Before I go into it, let’s put it in the correct context of contemporary India (I apologize in advance for my limited knowledge and experience of India, and if I am making offensive statements here) – what I mean to say is, India isn’t usually an easy place to be. It’s not easy to find things offered for free (this is speaking about public availability, not by any means referring to the overwhelming hospitality and generosity I have had offered to me by many individuals during my journeys here). The Golden Temple has free accommodation – yes, free – donations accepted – for visitors. I arrived and all the beds were already taken, but we were able to communicate that since I was only staying a night I would be more than happy to just put a sheet on the floor.
The place is vibrating, pulsating, with a strong energy – almost like the workings of some sort of factory or ant farm or something…constant buzzing…pilgrims come and it’s 24 hours around the clock activity as they sleep for a few short hours. The bhajans, devotional songs, are broadcast throughout the entire temple grounds…and what really gets me about the Golden Temple, and if I’m not mistaken on this hunch, Sikhs in general, is this complete acceptance of others and their paths, whatever that may mean.
And I know I won’t be surprising anyone referring to the food…but this is really where the temple hit me. Langar is a Sikh term for communal meals that are given for free to anybody – again, regardless of caste or creed – and the Golden Temple has food available 24 hours a day – 24 hours a day, yes – for free. It’s said that they serve 70,000 to 80,000 people a day. Everything in this establishment is done by volunteers, and all funding is by donation. The dining halls are huge, and people line up in rows, seated on the floor as volunteers whiz by piling things on your metal thali plate.
I was invited by some young boys to check out the kitchen facilities which was such an amazing experience. They have a chapatti machine that makes 3,000 chapattis per hour. Then they have about 50 people handmaking chapattis round the clock. An estimated 200,000 chapattis a day are consumed. The pots of curry are the size of small swimming pools…the storeroom houses thousands of kilos of pulses, rice, and spices…incredible.
So my 20 hours at the Golden Temple made me rejuvenated, awe-inspired, and ready to go on to the next adventure!
Kerala, May 2010
How to describe the past week? How to put Kerala in words? It is the wealthiest state in India, with a history of communism. The people here (in my experience) are dignified, some of the darkest in India, the women are known for their meticulous care of their hair with coconut oil and their robust bellies…the men for the most part still wear longyis……scenically, it is a shockingly green landscape, with coconut trees towering over rice fields, cows with healthy shiny coats lazing around in the fields…walk through any village and it seems that every plant growing in the roadside gardens has a purpose…black pepper, papaya, coconut, guava, tulsi, ginger…and it is definitely the place that I have been to with the most amazing coconuts, and they are used for just about everything imaginable: coconut oil for cooking, hair oil, body lotion, coconut water for drinking, leaves for making crafts…the smell of coconuts wafts in numerous times daily, its presence dominating Keralan cuisine (a great thing for me!) After Shoonya at Isha, I decided that instead of staying at the ashram for the week between Shoonya and BSP, I wanted to leave to get a little headspace…and I think it was a good decision. I had been wanting to get back in touch with Narayanan since I left Tiruvalla in January, and so I called and he instantly said I could come anytime. So I arrived on the 18th at 9am at Thiruvalla, and he had to go to a different village that day to teach yoga so I was left in the loving hands of his family, whom I couldn’t really communicate with but that didn’t seem to be a problem. In Kerala, and definitely at his home, it seems that time stops for me. We spent the next two days built around our yoga sessions at 7am and 4pm, he and his family showed me all sorts of Keralan tricks in the kitchen, from the coconut grating device to all the different spices and oils. We visited his Ayurvedic doctor friend who is a major Amma devotee…the neighbors took great interest, the lovely 4 children who sat on the neighboring rooftops to partake in our yoga sessions, laughing delightedly at every movement and antic…I took a 36 hour break to go to Amma’s ashram, and the morning of the 20th Narayanan took me to the bus station and waited with me in the rain until I got a bus to Kayamkulam…leading up to it, I kept asking how much I should pay for the yoga classes and my stay at his house and he kept saying he would tell me when it was time. And he threw me on the bus and wouldn’t accept any money…
It was a great idea to spend some time at Amma’s again, get an energy recharge you could call it…I view it as sort of a love and heart energy recharge and boost, and a foolproof way to have insightful conversations with likeminded people. Didn’t fail this time –met Chloe from Aix-en-Provence and we had many great chats and laughs over Amma’s pumpkin bread, butter jam cookies, and ginger oatmeal delights (!! Why is it that Amma’s and Sadhguru’s ashrams have some of the tastiest food in India?! Lure me into spirituality yes!) Also great to reconnect with Krishnan who I’ll spend some time with in Dharamshala in the coming weeks.
I went back to Narayanan’s place after visiting Amma’s, since it felt right. So two more days of the yoga, wandering around the lush green fields near his house, drinking tender coconut water…amazing. Gayathri, the 10 year old granddaughter constantly appearing with smudged Kajal, a very smeary sticky black makeup made from ashes if I understood correctly – a big fan of origami. Tangamani, the elegant wise grandmother, always with a content calm smile. Everyone trying to feed me something every two hours. Narayanan’s childlike joy as he tried to use chopsticks (72 years old and he’d never seen them in real life before).
Also, it was a great opportunity to let the recent experiences of finishing up Japan and going directly to Shoonya sink in.
It was a great idea to spend some time at Amma’s again, get an energy recharge you could call it…I view it as sort of a love and heart energy recharge and boost, and a foolproof way to have insightful conversations with likeminded people. Didn’t fail this time –met Chloe from Aix-en-Provence and we had many great chats and laughs over Amma’s pumpkin bread, butter jam cookies, and ginger oatmeal delights (!! Why is it that Amma’s and Sadhguru’s ashrams have some of the tastiest food in India?! Lure me into spirituality yes!) Also great to reconnect with Krishnan who I’ll spend some time with in Dharamshala in the coming weeks.
I went back to Narayanan’s place after visiting Amma’s, since it felt right. So two more days of the yoga, wandering around the lush green fields near his house, drinking tender coconut water…amazing. Gayathri, the 10 year old granddaughter constantly appearing with smudged Kajal, a very smeary sticky black makeup made from ashes if I understood correctly – a big fan of origami. Tangamani, the elegant wise grandmother, always with a content calm smile. Everyone trying to feed me something every two hours. Narayanan’s childlike joy as he tried to use chopsticks (72 years old and he’d never seen them in real life before).
Also, it was a great opportunity to let the recent experiences of finishing up Japan and going directly to Shoonya sink in.
Kochin to Thiruvalla - and Kerala (Written January 2010, I know I'm so late...)
January 1, 2010. Soni came at 10am to get me from the hotel he had arranged for me. Not quite sure what exactly I was expecting, but Soni certainly wasn’t it. I was introduced by my father to Sajan, Soni’s brother, in New York. Sajan is a slim, very smart looking, glasses-wearing, economist type guy. Soni is a bit rounder ; ) bursting with laughter and from the short time I was with him, enjoys life to the fullest. We went on a whirlwind tour of Fort Cochin and in the evening I got on a train to Thiruvalla.
I was registered to do a one month Hatha Yoga Teacher Training Course at Tulasidalam Ashram in Thelliyoor, near Thiruvalla, Kerala. This is a tiny village in the middle of a magical jungle; it felt like a mystical place that I could call home. I came across the program when I was in Delhi, searching like crazy for a program and this jumped out at me. I felt really good about it when I signed up. As the days went on, however, I felt very strongly that I was not going to stay the whole month there. I didn’t really know what I was looking for, and what I was getting from the program. I had emailed a few times asking what would happen in terms of payment if I forfeited the program and had gotten no response. My last days in Goa, I felt really good to be with Tamara and Dorian, so had considered not going. But I felt like I had to go.
So, I went. There were two other students – two women from Luxembourg in their 40’s. initial reaction was oh my god I’m going to be stuck with them in the same room as them, in the same intense classes all day as them?! I mean, it’s eating, drinking, sleeping, learning, all with the same people. I felt initially very good with the teacher.
About two days into it, I was overswept by a wave of confusion, irritation, and frustration. My mind was telling me it was my co-students. So I separated myself, did a day of silence, and tried to let my inner voice tell me what was going on. It turns out, the woman running the course was really not the guru I was looking for. We may be able to twist our bodies into imaginative postures, and we may be able to eloquently speak about Patanjali and the Bhagavad Gita, but unless we live yoga, embody it, it is meaningless. That is the lesson I (re)learned at Tulasidalam. This was intensified by the presence of our asana workshop teacher, Narayana. This man, 70 years old, who has been practicing Hatha Yoga for 57 years, is pure embodiment of compassion, joy, and stillness. He walks in the room and you feel it. He leaves the room and his essence is still there. He doesn’t talk about philosophy, he seems to have a simple conversation with you, but when it ends, you realize you’ve learnt about Keralan politics, environment, nutrition, which of course can be related to the whole world, and you realize, this is yoga. Yoga means union.
Our teacher is a brilliant lecturer, very very intellectual, and quite simply put, I’ve never had anybody lecture as well as she does regarding the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. But she doesn’t live it. Simple things we spoke of jumped out at all 3 students in terms of seva, responsibility, love, compassion. And so I decided to go.
The 2 days before I left were really magical; the 3 of us just really gelled and spent beautiful days discussing, experiencing, feeling, and it really seemed that the universe was opening up to us and we were entering a new dimension. Yes, I know, some people reading this are now going to think I’ve gone off the deep end and have been brainwashed or lost my mind or something. But it is true. We took Apu, the lovely dog for many walks – he is normally encaged the whole day – and all the villagers were just coming out to connect. Animals followed us around – things were vibrating with a different frequency (actually we were more attuned to the real frequency of things perhaps).
The day I left, the teacher disappeared and didn’t come back. I spoke to Narayana and asked him if he could be my teacher if I came back to Kerala, he agreed, and all the blocks and doors that had been put in by our teacher released and a flood came forward. The ashram has the most beautiful staff, the secretary and the cook. They came with me to my rickshaw, everyone was crying…I cant put this in words. But it felt like the right decision, and although I struggled a lot that week, I learned a tremendous amount and it was clear that I had to be there, and it was also part of the big picture that I leave early.
When I was contemplating my departure, I remembered that isha foundation near Coimbatore was doing Inner Engineering Programs Jan 7-10 and 14-17. I called one day when we were outside the ashram and there were two spots left for the program from Jan 14-17. I registered. I got in touch with Darlene, the lovely Canadian I had met in Udaipur, and she was headed to Kerala. We agreed to meet for the houseboat in Alleppey. It gave me 3 nights free. I had planned on going to Amma’s ashram at some point during my stay in India, so it made sense to go there from the yoga course I was abandoning. A place where I could just put my stuff down, and hopefully fall into some sort of schedule structure.
So I left, sobbing, and finally got on a bus to Kayamkulam, then a rickshaw to the ashram in Amritapuri. Who is Amma? Amma means mother in India, and well, that’s who she is. She is widely considered a saint, and she truly deserves the title. I won’t go into it, but go to www.amma.org and you should be convinced pretty quickly. Her darshan, or blessing, is to give hugs and over the past 3 decades she has given more than 30 million hugs. And contributed hundreds of millions of dollars to humanitarian efforts in India and beyond. The ashram is quite big, with about 3000 permanent residents, supposedly. For 150 rupees a day, which is roughly 3 US dollars, you get a shared dorm room and 3 Indian meals and 2 chais. If you prefer, there is an Indian canteen, Western canteen, and a café with ridiculously delicious baked goods, pizza, veggie burgers etc. I’ll be perfectly honest, I didn’t do all that much meditating, I just explored the buzz of the place. Hundreds of people from all over the world and all walks of life were at the ashram. I spoke to dozens of people every day about their experiences with Amma (or not, since many had never met her but came for a variety of reasons – like myself). I went to a harmonium class that resonated so deeply within me, I would really like to pursue that. A harmonium is similar to a piano in that the notes and the keyboard are the same, but you play it only with your right hand ,using your left hand to pump air into the instrument like an accordion. It’s a very powerful, moving instrument.
Key characters during my stay at Amma’s place – in no particular order…
Heidi from Toronto, on some sort of ashram/guru/yoga search in India, we connected a lot on hatha/vinyasa yoga teachers in the west (and kirtan/chanting!)
Joe from Rio de Janeiro who has spent the past 2 years travelling, and more than 7 months at the ashram in the past 3 years.
Visnu (spiritual name) from Reunion who has spent 6 months annually for the past 3 years at the ashram.
Renee from Haiti living in DC who has never met Amma but in India for some spiritual path.
Virginie from France, living in Canada and also in India to try to figure out what next to do with her life.
Krishnan, half Indian half Chinese, living in Santa Fe and taken a year off to stay at the ashram.
I’m not going into their stories and personalities, it’s just an effort to show how global the place is.
4 blissful days at the ashram…and off I was to Alleppey to meet Darlene. It was great to see a familiar face, and Darlene had also picked up Marie, a German girl, and the plan was to go on a houseboat, the Kerala must-do. They had met Praveen Das who had a variety of boats, and my oh my was he quite the personality. A great salesman, he won the ladies over and we booked an overnight trip on the boat. The rest of the day was spent searching for playing cards and toilet paper (yes, in India this can be a 4 hour endeavor).
The next morning, we took off on the boat and it was simply marvelous.
I was registered to do a one month Hatha Yoga Teacher Training Course at Tulasidalam Ashram in Thelliyoor, near Thiruvalla, Kerala. This is a tiny village in the middle of a magical jungle; it felt like a mystical place that I could call home. I came across the program when I was in Delhi, searching like crazy for a program and this jumped out at me. I felt really good about it when I signed up. As the days went on, however, I felt very strongly that I was not going to stay the whole month there. I didn’t really know what I was looking for, and what I was getting from the program. I had emailed a few times asking what would happen in terms of payment if I forfeited the program and had gotten no response. My last days in Goa, I felt really good to be with Tamara and Dorian, so had considered not going. But I felt like I had to go.
So, I went. There were two other students – two women from Luxembourg in their 40’s. initial reaction was oh my god I’m going to be stuck with them in the same room as them, in the same intense classes all day as them?! I mean, it’s eating, drinking, sleeping, learning, all with the same people. I felt initially very good with the teacher.
About two days into it, I was overswept by a wave of confusion, irritation, and frustration. My mind was telling me it was my co-students. So I separated myself, did a day of silence, and tried to let my inner voice tell me what was going on. It turns out, the woman running the course was really not the guru I was looking for. We may be able to twist our bodies into imaginative postures, and we may be able to eloquently speak about Patanjali and the Bhagavad Gita, but unless we live yoga, embody it, it is meaningless. That is the lesson I (re)learned at Tulasidalam. This was intensified by the presence of our asana workshop teacher, Narayana. This man, 70 years old, who has been practicing Hatha Yoga for 57 years, is pure embodiment of compassion, joy, and stillness. He walks in the room and you feel it. He leaves the room and his essence is still there. He doesn’t talk about philosophy, he seems to have a simple conversation with you, but when it ends, you realize you’ve learnt about Keralan politics, environment, nutrition, which of course can be related to the whole world, and you realize, this is yoga. Yoga means union.
Our teacher is a brilliant lecturer, very very intellectual, and quite simply put, I’ve never had anybody lecture as well as she does regarding the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. But she doesn’t live it. Simple things we spoke of jumped out at all 3 students in terms of seva, responsibility, love, compassion. And so I decided to go.
The 2 days before I left were really magical; the 3 of us just really gelled and spent beautiful days discussing, experiencing, feeling, and it really seemed that the universe was opening up to us and we were entering a new dimension. Yes, I know, some people reading this are now going to think I’ve gone off the deep end and have been brainwashed or lost my mind or something. But it is true. We took Apu, the lovely dog for many walks – he is normally encaged the whole day – and all the villagers were just coming out to connect. Animals followed us around – things were vibrating with a different frequency (actually we were more attuned to the real frequency of things perhaps).
The day I left, the teacher disappeared and didn’t come back. I spoke to Narayana and asked him if he could be my teacher if I came back to Kerala, he agreed, and all the blocks and doors that had been put in by our teacher released and a flood came forward. The ashram has the most beautiful staff, the secretary and the cook. They came with me to my rickshaw, everyone was crying…I cant put this in words. But it felt like the right decision, and although I struggled a lot that week, I learned a tremendous amount and it was clear that I had to be there, and it was also part of the big picture that I leave early.
When I was contemplating my departure, I remembered that isha foundation near Coimbatore was doing Inner Engineering Programs Jan 7-10 and 14-17. I called one day when we were outside the ashram and there were two spots left for the program from Jan 14-17. I registered. I got in touch with Darlene, the lovely Canadian I had met in Udaipur, and she was headed to Kerala. We agreed to meet for the houseboat in Alleppey. It gave me 3 nights free. I had planned on going to Amma’s ashram at some point during my stay in India, so it made sense to go there from the yoga course I was abandoning. A place where I could just put my stuff down, and hopefully fall into some sort of schedule structure.
So I left, sobbing, and finally got on a bus to Kayamkulam, then a rickshaw to the ashram in Amritapuri. Who is Amma? Amma means mother in India, and well, that’s who she is. She is widely considered a saint, and she truly deserves the title. I won’t go into it, but go to www.amma.org and you should be convinced pretty quickly. Her darshan, or blessing, is to give hugs and over the past 3 decades she has given more than 30 million hugs. And contributed hundreds of millions of dollars to humanitarian efforts in India and beyond. The ashram is quite big, with about 3000 permanent residents, supposedly. For 150 rupees a day, which is roughly 3 US dollars, you get a shared dorm room and 3 Indian meals and 2 chais. If you prefer, there is an Indian canteen, Western canteen, and a café with ridiculously delicious baked goods, pizza, veggie burgers etc. I’ll be perfectly honest, I didn’t do all that much meditating, I just explored the buzz of the place. Hundreds of people from all over the world and all walks of life were at the ashram. I spoke to dozens of people every day about their experiences with Amma (or not, since many had never met her but came for a variety of reasons – like myself). I went to a harmonium class that resonated so deeply within me, I would really like to pursue that. A harmonium is similar to a piano in that the notes and the keyboard are the same, but you play it only with your right hand ,using your left hand to pump air into the instrument like an accordion. It’s a very powerful, moving instrument.
Key characters during my stay at Amma’s place – in no particular order…
Heidi from Toronto, on some sort of ashram/guru/yoga search in India, we connected a lot on hatha/vinyasa yoga teachers in the west (and kirtan/chanting!)
Joe from Rio de Janeiro who has spent the past 2 years travelling, and more than 7 months at the ashram in the past 3 years.
Visnu (spiritual name) from Reunion who has spent 6 months annually for the past 3 years at the ashram.
Renee from Haiti living in DC who has never met Amma but in India for some spiritual path.
Virginie from France, living in Canada and also in India to try to figure out what next to do with her life.
Krishnan, half Indian half Chinese, living in Santa Fe and taken a year off to stay at the ashram.
I’m not going into their stories and personalities, it’s just an effort to show how global the place is.
4 blissful days at the ashram…and off I was to Alleppey to meet Darlene. It was great to see a familiar face, and Darlene had also picked up Marie, a German girl, and the plan was to go on a houseboat, the Kerala must-do. They had met Praveen Das who had a variety of boats, and my oh my was he quite the personality. A great salesman, he won the ladies over and we booked an overnight trip on the boat. The rest of the day was spent searching for playing cards and toilet paper (yes, in India this can be a 4 hour endeavor).
The next morning, we took off on the boat and it was simply marvelous.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Journey to Goa (25 December 2009) Written 5 January 2010
Eventless flight to Mumbai, and then I met Vaibhav, a CS who stayed with Lisa in Tokyo. We met in Bandra and headed to Juhu Beach where it was such a joy to see the sea, even though it was a bit murky and extremely scorching. There we had pau bhaji and bhel puri, the typical Mumbai street snacks.
Pau Bhaji is a vegetable paste, principal ingredients potatoes and tomatoes, cooked on a huge round hot plate, adding oil or ghee then you get bread also cooked on that hot plate, usually with ghee thrown on as well. Delicious. Bhel puri is with puffed rice, diced onion and tomatoes, round fried flour crisps, and usually a green chutney. Yum.
The beach is pretty interesting in India, with all sorts of vendors, scouts asking you to an extra in a Bollywood film, and many many people who want to take your photo so you can purchase it from them. It was Christmas Day, so a holiday for locals, and it was nice to see the beach full of families (many of them going into the sea fully dressed, oh India ; )
And then I went to get my flight to Goa, and as I got off the plane I met Faye, this strikingly beautiful Goan girl and she took me in her taxi to Panjim, where AJ picked me up and brought me to Vernon’s home. Vernon was an incredible host – he had gotten me a Christmas present under his tree! Crazy – a beautiful shirt with an Indian print. The first night we went into downtown Panjim for dinner, where I had an awesome mushroom masala. Goan food is great – the Portuguese influence is strong, the spices kick in, and they use coconut. What more could I ask for? So delicious freshly baked bread abounds, including whole wheat, so I was happy. Their bhaji (vegetables) include a large variety of beans. The first morning we had black-eyed peas cooked in a spicy sauce with grated coconut – bliss. Then we also had buns, basically a sweet, yellow deep-fried chapatti, also with bhaji, this time chickpeas in a sauce with a bit of coconut as well.
My first day in Goa I took the bus to Morjim Beach where I met this Russian guy (there are SO many Russians in Rajasthan) and we spent a few hours talking about ashrams and impressions of India – he had been there for a year now, but pretty much just ashram hopping. He was lovely. I then walked to Arambol Beach, so a steady 2.5 hours on the beach, but it was nice to walk without obstacles, and barefoot. Then I jumped on a bus back to Panjim.
The next day I spent in and around Panjim. I got my hair cut at Neomi’s, a fancy little place in Miramar, then walked all the way from the main bus station back home (maybe 1.5 to 2 hours if you walk continuously). Panjim is nice, there are a few streets with old Portuguese architecture, the vibe is relaxed, and all along the river there is a walkway – I always enjoy these places where you can just walk – some of my favorites are the boardwalk in Santa Monica and Venice, and of course, Rio de Janeiro – how many times have I walked from Posto 12 to 2? Ahh.
That afternoon I had a vegetarian thali at Vihar – it was ok.
That evening we went to Dona Paula for dinner, and it was ok.
But in the morning I was sick. Well, I wasn’t sure. I woke up early, since I had this trip to the south planned, to Palolem, and I vomited. No idea why. As far as I knew I had been eating very clean food in Goa. I thought, hm, maybe my body just needed to get this out and now itll be fine. So I got on the buses and was exhausted and sleeping most of the time. I arrived in Palolem, feeling totally ill, and decided that before I did anything like look for a room, I would first go to the beach, find an umbrella, and rest a bit and drink water.
This overweight Israeli woman noticed me immediately, told me to lie down and went and got me water. I was shifting in and out of consciousness for the next half hour, and then she told me I should rest in her room and after I felt better, figure out my next move. So, I stayed in the room for 5 hours, drifting in and out of awareness, and most of the time I was conscious I was sitting on the toilet or vomiting in it. Wonderful. No, horrible horrendous nightmare. This will come up again later, but it’s amazing, I think children, elderly, the sick, and the handicapped are the ones that are in touch with their vulnerable nature and have less barriers and are able to express what they really want and need. So, that day, I just wanted someone to take care of me and tell me it was going to be ok. Travelling alone and getting horribly sick sucks. No way around it.
Anyway I weighed my options and decided to head back to Panjim to stay with Vernon that night. I had wanted to stay a night in Palolem and have some beach time but actually it was a much smarter decision to spend that money on a taxi, and get in bed and take some medicine because it was very much needed.
The next day I still felt horrible, but Tamara was arriving so I went with her to Candolim. It is always so nice to see her. We spent the whole afternoon and evening sitting on the beach. I stayed there for 2 nights, just relaxing and doing some healing work. On the 31st, diarrhea started again. I was supposed to take an overnight train to get to Kerala to start my Yoga Teacher Training Course. I was devastated. My stomach was cramping, I felt so ill, and I was supposed to take an overnight train. I decided I still felt like I had to go to Kerala, even though I was already completely unsure as to whether I wanted to do the full month of teacher training with this woman that I had registered with. I chose this ashram in Kerala for a few reasons. I was drawn to the fact that it was a woman running the ashram/teaching the course. The small class sizes, maximum 5, were appealing. The location, a small village 17km from the train station inland in Kerala sounded wonderful. But most importantly, I felt like I had to go. It was meant to happen.
So I somehow managed to survive the ride to the train station, the train was delayed 3 hours, and I arrived at 3am in Kochin.
Pau Bhaji is a vegetable paste, principal ingredients potatoes and tomatoes, cooked on a huge round hot plate, adding oil or ghee then you get bread also cooked on that hot plate, usually with ghee thrown on as well. Delicious. Bhel puri is with puffed rice, diced onion and tomatoes, round fried flour crisps, and usually a green chutney. Yum.
The beach is pretty interesting in India, with all sorts of vendors, scouts asking you to an extra in a Bollywood film, and many many people who want to take your photo so you can purchase it from them. It was Christmas Day, so a holiday for locals, and it was nice to see the beach full of families (many of them going into the sea fully dressed, oh India ; )
And then I went to get my flight to Goa, and as I got off the plane I met Faye, this strikingly beautiful Goan girl and she took me in her taxi to Panjim, where AJ picked me up and brought me to Vernon’s home. Vernon was an incredible host – he had gotten me a Christmas present under his tree! Crazy – a beautiful shirt with an Indian print. The first night we went into downtown Panjim for dinner, where I had an awesome mushroom masala. Goan food is great – the Portuguese influence is strong, the spices kick in, and they use coconut. What more could I ask for? So delicious freshly baked bread abounds, including whole wheat, so I was happy. Their bhaji (vegetables) include a large variety of beans. The first morning we had black-eyed peas cooked in a spicy sauce with grated coconut – bliss. Then we also had buns, basically a sweet, yellow deep-fried chapatti, also with bhaji, this time chickpeas in a sauce with a bit of coconut as well.
My first day in Goa I took the bus to Morjim Beach where I met this Russian guy (there are SO many Russians in Rajasthan) and we spent a few hours talking about ashrams and impressions of India – he had been there for a year now, but pretty much just ashram hopping. He was lovely. I then walked to Arambol Beach, so a steady 2.5 hours on the beach, but it was nice to walk without obstacles, and barefoot. Then I jumped on a bus back to Panjim.
The next day I spent in and around Panjim. I got my hair cut at Neomi’s, a fancy little place in Miramar, then walked all the way from the main bus station back home (maybe 1.5 to 2 hours if you walk continuously). Panjim is nice, there are a few streets with old Portuguese architecture, the vibe is relaxed, and all along the river there is a walkway – I always enjoy these places where you can just walk – some of my favorites are the boardwalk in Santa Monica and Venice, and of course, Rio de Janeiro – how many times have I walked from Posto 12 to 2? Ahh.
That afternoon I had a vegetarian thali at Vihar – it was ok.
That evening we went to Dona Paula for dinner, and it was ok.
But in the morning I was sick. Well, I wasn’t sure. I woke up early, since I had this trip to the south planned, to Palolem, and I vomited. No idea why. As far as I knew I had been eating very clean food in Goa. I thought, hm, maybe my body just needed to get this out and now itll be fine. So I got on the buses and was exhausted and sleeping most of the time. I arrived in Palolem, feeling totally ill, and decided that before I did anything like look for a room, I would first go to the beach, find an umbrella, and rest a bit and drink water.
This overweight Israeli woman noticed me immediately, told me to lie down and went and got me water. I was shifting in and out of consciousness for the next half hour, and then she told me I should rest in her room and after I felt better, figure out my next move. So, I stayed in the room for 5 hours, drifting in and out of awareness, and most of the time I was conscious I was sitting on the toilet or vomiting in it. Wonderful. No, horrible horrendous nightmare. This will come up again later, but it’s amazing, I think children, elderly, the sick, and the handicapped are the ones that are in touch with their vulnerable nature and have less barriers and are able to express what they really want and need. So, that day, I just wanted someone to take care of me and tell me it was going to be ok. Travelling alone and getting horribly sick sucks. No way around it.
Anyway I weighed my options and decided to head back to Panjim to stay with Vernon that night. I had wanted to stay a night in Palolem and have some beach time but actually it was a much smarter decision to spend that money on a taxi, and get in bed and take some medicine because it was very much needed.
The next day I still felt horrible, but Tamara was arriving so I went with her to Candolim. It is always so nice to see her. We spent the whole afternoon and evening sitting on the beach. I stayed there for 2 nights, just relaxing and doing some healing work. On the 31st, diarrhea started again. I was supposed to take an overnight train to get to Kerala to start my Yoga Teacher Training Course. I was devastated. My stomach was cramping, I felt so ill, and I was supposed to take an overnight train. I decided I still felt like I had to go to Kerala, even though I was already completely unsure as to whether I wanted to do the full month of teacher training with this woman that I had registered with. I chose this ashram in Kerala for a few reasons. I was drawn to the fact that it was a woman running the ashram/teaching the course. The small class sizes, maximum 5, were appealing. The location, a small village 17km from the train station inland in Kerala sounded wonderful. But most importantly, I felt like I had to go. It was meant to happen.
So I somehow managed to survive the ride to the train station, the train was delayed 3 hours, and I arrived at 3am in Kochin.
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