devouring books

I have packed a parcel full of books to ship home to myself. I couldn't help but buy so many here! They are much cheaper than in the U.S. Every bookstore seems to cater to exactly what I adore: yoga, Buddhism, travel memoirs, biographies. I've been reading passionately this entire trip, aside from the ten days at the Vipassana course. I started out with HIDING PLACES, a memoir about a man and his sons finding their relatives' hiding places from the Holocaust. Then moved on to ANNA KARENINA, the Tolstoy classic. But I only got halfway through it before it was shelved by HOLY COW, an Australian woman's story of spiritual seeking in India, immediately followed by CAVE IN THE SNOW, the tale of a Western woman turned Buddhist nun who spent 12 years meditating in a Himalayan cave.

After a couple false starts, I've happily moved on to dually reading FREEDOM IN EXILE, an autobiography of H.H. the Dalai Lama which was written in the 90s, and SHANTARAM, a 900-page memoir by a man who escaped from prison in Australia and came to Bombay. I'm only on page 25 or so, but it's very engaging and well-written. Amazingly, he was jailed in India as well, and his book manuscript was destroyed twice by the prison guards. Yet, he persevered and wrote it a third time!

These two books will carry me home, all the way along the 24-hour journey from East to West. It's not that much actual flying time, but unfortunately I have to stop in Newark and Houston before arriving in Austin, where I "belong." Indians don't ask where you're from, they ask, "Which country/city do you belong to?" Mostly, I have said, "The U.S." A lot of people, when they hear Texas, immediately think Bush. Naturally, that is not an association I want. I always tell them he was born in Conneticut.

Happily, most people here know about and love Obama. I have been spoon-feeding U.S./political news to myself over the past few days in preparation for returning to American media mania. I must say, from this viewpoint, McCain looks smug, petty and subtly desperate, while Obama seems graceful and sharp as ever, though perhaps a tad tired from his incessant travels. This weekend, I will know all too well how he feels.

the plight of tibet

An unexpected side effect of my trek around north India has been meeting Tibetans and learning more about their country and culture. For years, I have been getting letters in the mail along with stickers of the Tibetan flag, from an organization founded by the actor Richard Gere. But until recently I never really knew much about the situation. Seeing the documentary called Ten Questions with the Dalai Lama last year was illuminating, but of course meeting real live people is always more significant. Tibet was invaded in the early 1950s by the Chinese and they officially took control in 1959, at which point His Holiness the Dalai Lama and thousands of others Tibetans fled for their lives. Since then, the people have been repressed, tortured, and even killed. Meanwhile, more and more Chinese are moving into Tibet each year. I am about to have tea with a Tibetan Buddhist monk who I met the other day. He authored a book about his experiences being captured, imprisoned, and tortured by Chinese for three years, and his subsequent escape to India. More to come on this topic soon...

adam, around the world

I was alone for the first time in over a week. It's amazing how easily you meet people when you travel solo. I went to the small town of Vashisht on the recommendation of my editor/writing and yoga teacher. I walked around and found my way along a cow-dung-dotted path headed to a waterfall. After a half hour hike and no sight of a waterfall, other than a fast, scenic stream careening down the steep hill, I stopped and sat. Then, I met two Israeli girls who were heading to Leh and had come from Dharamsala. So, we exchanged advice since we were each heading to where the other had just been. They left, I continued sitting for a few more minutes, debating whether to continue upward in search of the waterfall.

I decided no, and instead set out for a cafe in which to snack, read and write for the afternoon. As I was walking back through the town, it began to sprinkle lightly. Then, I looked up and saw standing on the street, not just an American, not just an acquaintance, not even just a friend, but Adam H., the first boy I ever loved. I walked toward him and gaped for a moment in disbelief. We'd become good friends back when we were in the creative advertising program at UT. After a year of friendship, I developed deeper feelings and drama ensued until he abruptly left me and the Western Hemisphere to teach English in Japan. I didn't see him for over four years, until a random weekend in late 2006 when I was visiting other friends in Houston. And then I didn't see him again, until the other day, in the middle of a small north Indian village.

As it turns out, he's been living in India since May. He's working on his MBA from a school in Phoenix. He'd quit his internship in Delhi and is traveling around until August. After returning to the US for a couple months, he'll return to Delhi to spend the fall semester at an acclaimed business school in Hyderabad, which is in south India. So, we walked and talked, and sat in a Chinese restaurant and drank Australian beers for a few hours until I had to leave and catch my bus to Dharamsala. It was quite nice to hang out with a familiar old friend after weeks of interesting strangers. I had an unshakable feeling that we were somehow destined to meet up in India. I harbor no notions that we are meant to be together romantically, but maybe we are meant to continue keeping in touch more than we had been.

inconvenience deeply regretted

We left Leh at two a.m. and arrived in Manali just 21 short hours later. In truth, the trip back was fifty times better than the trip there. I saw a number of clearly insane individuals biking along these roads. On a bicycle! I cannot fathom ever thinking that would be a good idea. But a word to the wise traveler, if you plan to visit the Himalayan regions, go by helicopter. That, or wait a few decades until the roads are better. I didn't get sick this time though, which made it much more enjoyable. Still, just riding along in the vehicle feels like strenuous cardiovascular exercise. There are all these signs along the way that say "Inconvenience Deeply Regretted," wherever there is road work and you have to take a "diversion," which is what they call a detour. These differences in diction are endlessly entertaining to me.

Our "deluxe tempo traveler" held ten passengers, each with their own personal seat. Caroline and I were riding alongside a family of South Koreans with three young boys who were all so quiet and calm, they were almost invisible. In front was Aldous, the Canadian guy who reminds me a lot of Tom from Maine. Then there were two Australian girls who'd been volunteer teaching English here for four months and are headed to Nepal for another two. I found out they're 19. Nineteen! Just out of high school. I was so impressed. When I was 19, I "braved" the posh city of London and took weekend trips to other civilized Western European spots. India is not an easy place to be.

I'm reading a great book right now (have temporarily shelved Anna Karenina) -- it's called Holy Cow! The author is an Australian woman with a love/hate relationship with India. She lives here and travels to a lot of the places I have been or am going. She writes with a good mix of historical facts and personal anecdotes.

Yesterday evening as the sun was setting and I was already composing this blog in my mind, our van stopped dead in the middle of the rocky road. The driver kept turning the key, and nothing. So, we started joking about spending the night there, or creating some makeshift rafts and riding along the nearby river. Ha, ha. So funny. I was actually not laughing. We were 80KM away from our destination, but at the rate we went, that would take four hours. As it turned out, the gas gauge had punctured and leaked. A public bus pulled over and the driver came and helped. In the end, amazingly, it was only a 30 minute delay. They were total McGuyvers. They taped it up or something. We managed to arrive without exploding around 11:00!

I have nine days left in this country. Next stop: Dharamsala/McLeod Gang, home of the Tibetan Government in exile.

motorbike day trip

Today, my Dutch friend, Caroline, and I hired motorbikes to take us to a three Buddhist monastaries for the day. Our drivers were two Ladakhi guys in their early twenties. I was a little scared for my life at times due to the high speed and curvaceous roads, but it was fine. We wore helmets. Nevermind the potential free-fall downward to rocks and rushing rivers. I took a bunch of videos along the way with my handy Flip video camera. All the Tibetan Buddhist monasteries we went to were so peaceful and scenic. I can't remember the names. One was in a place called Alchi. I only saw a handful of monks. Maybe Monday is their day off. We are about 10,500 feet above sea level and it's extremely hard to breathe when hiking uphill. It makes me feel so out of shape, but really it's mainly from the thin air. I must say, I did feel like a badass riding on a motorcycle across the Himalayas and the Indus Valley.

Because the air fare is ridiculously expensive back to Delhi ($220 for a one-way, one-hour trip), I am going to brave the road back to Manali once again. But, NOT in a jeep. In a "deluxe tempo traveler," which is a van for ten people. It *should* only take 16 hours. But that's what they told us the first time. Anyway, we leave Wednesday morning at 2 a.m. I had a nightmare last night that we got to the station and it was a jeep, and they were like, "No problem, jeep is good, no worries, it goes 2 kilometers per hour." Noooooooo!!! But Caroline is very good at bargaining and getting things done, and she speaks a little Hindi, so if any problem arises, I trust her to raise hell.

I am planning to spend the rest of my time in India between Vasthisht, a small Buddhist village, and back in Rishikesh, where all this craziness began. I may also take a day trip to Agra to see the Taj Mahal before hopping on the plane in Delhi on August 2. I wish I could upload some photos and videos but that will have to wait until I get home. The sights are so fabulous though! They really make up for the smells.

himalayan road trip

Immediately upon getting off the bus in Manali, we were bombarded by guys trying to get us to stay at their hotel and take their jeep to Leh. We shopped around, and tried hard to book a more comfortable van but none were available. So, we collapsed in a hotel room and planned to leave at two in the morning by jeep. We were told we'd arrive around 6 p.m. Now, realizing that nothing in India goes according to schedule, I did not really believe that. But what happened was utterly ridiculous, even by my relaxed standards.

Firstly, the jeep was crammed with ten people. four in the back -- indian guys smoking pot incessantly. four in the middle seat where there should have been three, including one large indian man. the driver, an unwieldy stick shift, and two more in the front seat. secondly, the roads are hideous. unpaved, rocky, sandy, wet, bumpy, awful. our driver went so slow, partly because the jeep was old and just wouldn't accelerate that much, partly because he was being cautious. which i was grateful for, but by 6 p.m., our estimated time of arrival, we were only half way there! by this point, i was feeling ill. i threw up out the window of the jeep, due to a combination of altitude, rocky road and possible some bad food. the indian girl who didn't speak english started sobbing loudly for about half an hour. i think we were all on the verge of a nervous breakdown. thankfully, we stopped for the night. but our "hotel" was actually a large plastic tent with a bunch of futon beds laid out in one room. i laid down and fell asleep immediately, after being covered in many blankets by the tibetan lady who worked there. i had to get up twice in the night to use the facilities -- a.k.a. go outside and poop. it was very cold and i was very underdressed, but the blankets were nice and warm.

in the morning, i had plain tea and some cookies and immediately threw them up. so, i couldn't even hold down water yet i was so dehydrated. the rest of the trip was rough but the roads got better. we reached leh at 1 p.m. yesterday, found a nice guest house with attached bathrooms and hot showers, and commenced to relax. ahhhhh, so nice to be still. i successfully ate dinner and slept well last night. i am most definitely going to catch an airplane back to delhi. never, never want to drive along that road again. though the sights were amazing, and i took lots of pictures which i will post upon my return to the states.

along the road, the only forms of entertainment were the mountain views and the hilarious road signs. the driver played bollywood movie music on cassette which was sometimes annoying, sometimes strangely soothing. you definitely could not read. you'd get carsick just sitting there, i was proof of that. anyway, here are some of my favorite signs:

-after drinking whiskey, driving is risky
-enjoy the scenery, protect the greenery
-when the going gets tough, the tough gets going
-safety on the road means 'safe tea' at home
-if you love her, divorce speed
-darling i like you, but not so fast
-don't gossip, let him drive

notes on dehradun

Thursday, July 10, 2008 -- day 5 -- 4 p.m.

No escape... spiders everywhere. A HUGE red one kept me up half the night on day 3. I was sure it was plotting to kill me in my sleep. It rains every day. Lemon water for dinner... I hope I'm losing weight. I vow to start jogging when I get home. There's no need for me to carry around all the excess lbs. I am supposed to be meditating in my pagoda cell right now. Am rebelling. This is nothing compared to my 1st course, cheating in so many ways. I keep looking forward. What's next? Lunch? Shall I take a "shower"? Fill up my water bottle? Must be present. But they really do beat you over the head with meditation. I can only take so much. Hence, I am here writing on the back of an ATM receipt. ...I miss home. Yesterday I slipped and cut my knee. It didn't hurt but I started bawling (quietly) because I'm so far from home and the course is so intense and I just felt like crying. It is beautiful here in the Himalayan foothills. I will survive... patiently and persistently, with perfect equanimity.

=====
Yesterday, I completed my second 10-day silent Vipassana meditation course. It was no easier the second time around, but in the end a great experience. And I met many wonderful people from all over the place. It's so wonderful when you get to start talking on the tenth day and hear everyone's stories. I am halfway through my journey in India and already so many happy surprises have occurred. I will be stationed in Leh for the next week at least, so will be able to write another update in a few days. Love to all my dear readers! Namaste...

skinned knee

ask and you shall receive
but be careful what you wish for

i wanted liberation in london
they lost my luggage
i found myself alone
surrounded by yankees and brits

i wanted ananda in canada
to camp at an ashram
too much chanting
esoteric philosophies
and a mean swami later
i was back home in bed, depressed

i wanted californian change
found out, yes, there is such a thing
as too much yoga
and there are both zen centers and christian radicals
in the city by the bay

i wanted to soak up mexico
to eat sandia with frida
came home with a souvenir
en mi corazon
and one in my intestines

i wanted india in my skin
fell to my knees and scraped the left one
the dhamma nazis threw saffron-colored powder on my little wound
it didn't hurt
but i cried quiet tears that had been waiting years to reach the surface

this moment is perfect
every one is
equanimity tattooed inside my forehead
gratitude for spiders and saffron and dhamma

what will you ask for?
what will you receive?

today, i was chased by a monkey

I took a walk after lunch today in hopes of finding places that offer hatha yoga classes. It's harder to come by than you'd think, being India and all. There are dozens of ashrams here in Rishikesh, but the one where I am currently staying does not offer hatha yoga in favor of Vedanta (a form of Hindu philosophy), chanting, meditation, etc. I was walking along, annoyed by the incessant honking of horns (WAY worse than NYC), thinking... I should find a quieter, smaller village to go to after my vipassana course. (I got the green light to go to the course in Dehradun, July 5-16!) I've yet to tell the Dayananda ashram people that I'm cutting my visit short. It's nice here, scenic and relatively calm, but I really don't fit in. It's not what I'm seeking, not for a whole month anyway.

But I digress. I was walking along, hot and sweaty, when I came to a bend in the road that was less busy than most. I spotted a monkey (a lemur, I thought but Amanda the primate expert told me they are actually macaques). I'd seen these prior, but always from a bus. This was a perfect photo op. It was a mama with a cute little baby attached to its front. I pulled out my camera and snapped a couple shots but kept trying to get a better one. More and more monkeys appeared. And then, they were surrounding me. I backed away slowly. The biggest one started chasing me, at which point I ran away screaming. He kept following me, making a terrible noise. I was afraid he'd bite me and I'd get rabies and that would be the end of Michelle. I almost threw my big plastic water bottle at him, but didn't. He finally left. One of the ubiquitous blue open-air mini-cabs pulled over and picked me up. In it were two teenage boys and the driver. We all laughed at me. I was panting. It was really scary, actually. ("Ha-ha, stupid American girl.") But I was laughing too, so it was okay. The monkeys are literally chasing me out of Rishikesh.

Lesson learned: Do not photograph wild monkeys!

vipassana buddies?

Last night, I was standing at the edge of the ashram, which overlooks the rapidly flowing Ganges. This, after eating dinner in silence next to an old Indian woman who either doesn't speak English or isn't very friendly. I was standing there watching the river flow, lamenting (however irrationally) my loneliness and isolation. I came seeking "authentic yoga," but perhaps this was too authentic for me? As I was strolling back to my room to read Anna Karenina and go to sleep, I crossed paths with three men. One of them engaged me in conversation. He's very Lali-like. (Lali is my nutty Indian/Vedic palm reader friend that I met three years ago in California.) What can I say? I guess I have a knack for attracting middle aged South Indians.

Anyway, his two friends are closer to my age, but neither of them speaks much English and I speak zero Hindi, so there was a lot of smiling and bowing. The talkative one, Jeevan, is a part-time astrologer and a full-time meditator. When he inquired about the style of meditation I practice, I said vipassana. He then invited me to come along to a 10-day silent course they are going to on the 4th in a nearby town. I am considering it, obviously not for the company (men and women are segregated and you can't talk anyway), but because I think I would benefit greatly from another vipassana course. The first one I took was a year ago exactly. So, I've emailed to inquire about attending and am hoping to hear back tomorrow. I'm also hoping my bag will arrive at the ashram this evening.

Sometimes the power here goes out suddenly, and it just did. Somehow, the computer did not shut off. But just in case, I'll sign off now. Namaste, USA!

crosstown traffic

A storm was hanging over New York City, delaying my flight out of Boston by two hours. There was no way I'd make the connection. I began second guessing my plans to travel to India at all. At last, Continental put me on standby for another flight. I got on the plane: my first accomplishment. In Newark, I about lost it while waiting several minutes to deplane. I wanted to shout, "I'M ON A SPIRITUAL PILGRIMAGE! GET OUT OF ZEE WAY!" I ran to the gate, panting, got on the jumbo jet, and settled in for the thirteen hour ride.

Upon arrival in Delhi, the baggage carousel kept going around and around with no big red backpack in sight. It seems it stayed with my original flight. For the second time (the first being at the Boston airport), I broke down in silent tears. But, I maintained composure when dealing with the customer service people. (I think US Air's losing my luggage in London in 1999 came in handy here.) After I FINALLY filled out the paperwork and was assured that my bag would be delivered to me in Rishikesh in 24 hours (YEAH... right!), I made my way through customs and out to the maddening crowd. I scanned the dozens of cards people were holding welcoming so-and-so, looking for my name, wondering if my travel agent guy had left because I'd taken so long. There, at the end of the line, he stood holding my name! Ah, sweet recognition of a stranger who was expecting me.

He drove me to the YWCA Guest House, a 30-minute ride which gave me my first experience of the insane Indian traffic system. First of all, they drive on the left like in the UK. Fine. But then there are rickshaws, bikes, buses, cars, pedestrians, dogs, cows and monkeys to contend with. Cars will veer into other lanes to pass slow-movers, and two or three vehicles will often squeeze into one lane. It's quite unnerving. I am generally a calm person, but it's hard to relax when there's a double decker bus aiming to you head on. I took the train to Haridwar this morning, again thankfully with a seasoned guide to drive me to the station and even walk me right to my seat on the train. And now I'm here in the little computer lab at the ashram, baggage-free, sweaty and dazed, but here. I'm finding more information about this ashram and their schedule on their website than anyone will tell me in person. They don't seem very accustomed to Westerners at first glance. The staff members I've encountered speak English, though not extremely well. I was reassured by this daily quote in my inbox:

Doubt is an uncomfortable position, but certainty is an absurd one.
- Voltaire