New Blog
For those of you still paying attention over here, I have started a new blog with a different focus... point your browsers to Quitting Mitzrayim for a peek. It's a work-in-progress, but it's where I'll be writing...
India follow-up
Our plans for a trip wrap-up keep getting postponed by life. Sorry! See a piece we co-wrote for the upcoming Beyt Tikkun newsletter on Shabbat in India.
Love you!
August 26, 2006
April 28, 2006
Quick Fix
Well, we're back in San Francisco! Amberly has posted some of the missing pieces from the last few weeks, so give it a whirl, since I probably won't be retreading that ground. We are planning on putting up an after-the-fact itinerary with a map you can orient yourselves with, but we need to get used to this strange country we're in first. It's so empty! We're going through a bit of reverse culture shock, alongside a wicked time change of 11.5 (or 12.5, depending on which one of us you ask) hours. They combine into a bit of a weird waking dream.
On top of it all, I've had a mean case of the runs, developed on the plane ride back from Delhi. I've decided to call the bug Shiva, the destroyer. We’re getting on alright here, Amberly, Shiva and I. Shiva is still dictating the solidity of things, but at least I’ve wrested the clock from his grasp. The antibiotics are helping.
That's all for now. School's out, and the kids are taking over the cafe... Oh, yeah--I put up a few photos of our last sightseeing in Delhi, as well as some lovely flowers around the neighborhood of our temporary sublet.
On top of it all, I've had a mean case of the runs, developed on the plane ride back from Delhi. I've decided to call the bug Shiva, the destroyer. We’re getting on alright here, Amberly, Shiva and I. Shiva is still dictating the solidity of things, but at least I’ve wrested the clock from his grasp. The antibiotics are helping.
That's all for now. School's out, and the kids are taking over the cafe... Oh, yeah--I put up a few photos of our last sightseeing in Delhi, as well as some lovely flowers around the neighborhood of our temporary sublet.
April 22, 2006
Dreaming of Kashmir
(Sorry for the long absence. We’ve been trying to cram as much as we can into our last ten days, and haven’t stopped for a breather in a bit!)
Photos of our last leg are up, but they’re not exactly representative of the experiences. There are times when I wished I had a really powerful zoom to capture some wildlife, a far-off detail or an interesting character. There are other times when the scenery was so overwhelming, a picture couldn’t capture it adequately. In these moments, more often than not, we put the camera away…
Ahh…Kashmir, we hardly knew ya! A week ago, we looked at the calendar and saw that it was now or never. One of the “must see” places on our India itinerary had always been Kashmir. We had heard so many stories of this “Heaven on Earth” to pass up the opportunity to go, yet the clock was ticking. We could no longer afford the luxury (if a 24-hour bus ride can be called such) of getting there overland so we decided to bite bullet once again and fly to Srinigar, summer capital of the Indian state Bill Clinton once called “the most dangerous place on Earth.”
The extra time that flight bought us was worth the trip, to be sure, but offered only a tease of what this splendid valley has to offer. Today, upon returning, we chanced upon a Srinigar native who runs a shop outside our hotel. “Once you have been to Kashmir,” he said, “there is life before Kashmir and life after.” His words ring true, even if we weren’t able to experience the full measure of that truth. We stayed on a houseboat in the middle of Srinigar’s picturesque Daal Lake. The city itself is in the middle of the valley of Kashmir, nestled in between the Himalayas to the east and north and the Pir Panjal Range to the south and west, and it really is a little slice of heaven.
We took a day trip to the Gulmarg valley, which is just getting on the radar for the adventure skiing/snowboarding types. The top of the ridge we looked up at has views of Pakistan on the other side. The valley was overrun with Indian families on summer break (it’s stinking hot in most of the country right now) and is meant to have a beautiful array of wildflowers blooming in a few weeks’ time.
But this was a trip that was less about the details and more about the awe. We didn’t see a tenth of it, but I know it holds limitless possibilities. Sigh. Next time.
With that, our journey comes to a close. We are in Delhi yet again, making last minute purchases and giving ourselves some luxuries long-denied, such as a fancy hotel room tomorrow night and a splash meal our last evening. The days have grown contemplative even as I race to finish my last “vacation book” before going home. There is much to write on that subject, but it’s still percolating. Perhaps I’ll post again before our late flight on Monday night, but I’ll put out this thought in case I don’t.
In the end, I travel to meet myself. It’s always me at the end of the journey, waiting to plop onto a comfy bed, kick off my shoes and take a deep breath. The pictures and small details will fade, but it’s still me.
I am glad and deeply thankful for all the people and experiences along the way. Because we are all one, they help me take a better look at myself, and by extension, the world around me. And this is the crux of the matter! The preceding paragraph is not an egotistical or narcissistic statement. Quite the opposite. If we are all part of one great existence, one amazing, awe-inspiring world, then getting to know oneself is an act of getting to know the other, both as means to the end and the end itself. I know that’s a big one to think on. I’ll leave you with it and look forward to your responses when I return.
Photos of our last leg are up, but they’re not exactly representative of the experiences. There are times when I wished I had a really powerful zoom to capture some wildlife, a far-off detail or an interesting character. There are other times when the scenery was so overwhelming, a picture couldn’t capture it adequately. In these moments, more often than not, we put the camera away…
But this was a trip that was less about the details and more about the awe. We didn’t see a tenth of it, but I know it holds limitless possibilities. Sigh. Next time.
With that, our journey comes to a close. We are in Delhi yet again, making last minute purchases and giving ourselves some luxuries long-denied, such as a fancy hotel room tomorrow night and a splash meal our last evening. The days have grown contemplative even as I race to finish my last “vacation book” before going home. There is much to write on that subject, but it’s still percolating. Perhaps I’ll post again before our late flight on Monday night, but I’ll put out this thought in case I don’t.
In the end, I travel to meet myself. It’s always me at the end of the journey, waiting to plop onto a comfy bed, kick off my shoes and take a deep breath. The pictures and small details will fade, but it’s still me.
I am glad and deeply thankful for all the people and experiences along the way. Because we are all one, they help me take a better look at myself, and by extension, the world around me. And this is the crux of the matter! The preceding paragraph is not an egotistical or narcissistic statement. Quite the opposite. If we are all part of one great existence, one amazing, awe-inspiring world, then getting to know oneself is an act of getting to know the other, both as means to the end and the end itself. I know that’s a big one to think on. I’ll leave you with it and look forward to your responses when I return.
April 12, 2006
Why We Travel, part 2
We travel to tell harrowing stories about transit that we find hard to believe ourselves. Like the night bus from Pushkar to Agra, with sleeping berths so grotty, the headrest was slick with hair grease. Bouncing and swerving so badly, we spent a fair amount of time airborne, backs pounded as if by an overzealous nanny burping a newborn.
Or multi-leg journeys that stretch hours and days beyond their intended length. Like our recent cross-country journey from the Andaman Islands to Rishikesh, just in time for Passover. It started with an easy-enough afternoon ferry ride to Port Blair, where we stayed overnight in order to catch our morning flight. A 7:45am pick-up kicked off the second leg of the journey, onto a plane to Calcutta and, after time out for an authentic Bengali lunch feast, to the train station for an 18-hour overnight ride to New Delhi. The original plan was to arrive in the late morning on Monday, and take a bus to Rishikesh straight away.
I suppose it was a good thing that the Naxalites decided to bomb the track at Gaya, because it forced our train to take a detour that added nearly four hours to our ride. The delay forced us to stay a night in Delhi, heads still swaying with the rythym of the train as we walked the streets. The good night's sleep wasn't quite enough to brace us for the next day, which we thought might be the easy part.
After negotiating the mammoth Delhi bus terminal and searching in vain for a comfy bus directly to Rishikesh, we ended up on a private "deluxe" bus to Haridwar, the closest serviceable town. The promised five hours streched past the six that the guidebook suggests to over seven, seldom reaching the bus' 30 mph top speed. When we were done winding through Delhi's interminable suburbs, we got stuck behind a caravan of tractor-pulled sugarcane carts, and so on.
When we reached Haridwar, a taciturn bicycle rickshaw wallah deposited us at the bus stand, where we found out it would be at least another 30 minute wait for the Rs. 15 (~$0.40) bus. It was 6:30pm on our fourth day of transit.
We all have our breaking points - times or days when the world is too much and we can't deal with it anymore. In transit, this usually means forsaking the cheapest solution, which invariably involves a test of patience, for the easiest one, which is inevitably more expensive. Amberly was having one of those days. Not taking these moments personally or out on each other has been the key to our successful travel together. So, knowing better than to put up even the faintest of arguments, I marched behind her over to the taxi stand and gladly forked over the Rs. 460 (~$11) for a smooth and quick ride to our end, at last.
With time, these memories fade into stories fondly told with friends and designed to get a reaction. The lessons are less the "shoulda coulda woulda" kind, and more what we learn about ourselves, our limits, and our coping skills at these times. This is also why we travel.
Or multi-leg journeys that stretch hours and days beyond their intended length. Like our recent cross-country journey from the Andaman Islands to Rishikesh, just in time for Passover. It started with an easy-enough afternoon ferry ride to Port Blair, where we stayed overnight in order to catch our morning flight. A 7:45am pick-up kicked off the second leg of the journey, onto a plane to Calcutta and, after time out for an authentic Bengali lunch feast, to the train station for an 18-hour overnight ride to New Delhi. The original plan was to arrive in the late morning on Monday, and take a bus to Rishikesh straight away.
I suppose it was a good thing that the Naxalites decided to bomb the track at Gaya, because it forced our train to take a detour that added nearly four hours to our ride. The delay forced us to stay a night in Delhi, heads still swaying with the rythym of the train as we walked the streets. The good night's sleep wasn't quite enough to brace us for the next day, which we thought might be the easy part.
After negotiating the mammoth Delhi bus terminal and searching in vain for a comfy bus directly to Rishikesh, we ended up on a private "deluxe" bus to Haridwar, the closest serviceable town. The promised five hours streched past the six that the guidebook suggests to over seven, seldom reaching the bus' 30 mph top speed. When we were done winding through Delhi's interminable suburbs, we got stuck behind a caravan of tractor-pulled sugarcane carts, and so on.
When we reached Haridwar, a taciturn bicycle rickshaw wallah deposited us at the bus stand, where we found out it would be at least another 30 minute wait for the Rs. 15 (~$0.40) bus. It was 6:30pm on our fourth day of transit.
We all have our breaking points - times or days when the world is too much and we can't deal with it anymore. In transit, this usually means forsaking the cheapest solution, which invariably involves a test of patience, for the easiest one, which is inevitably more expensive. Amberly was having one of those days. Not taking these moments personally or out on each other has been the key to our successful travel together. So, knowing better than to put up even the faintest of arguments, I marched behind her over to the taxi stand and gladly forked over the Rs. 460 (~$11) for a smooth and quick ride to our end, at last.
With time, these memories fade into stories fondly told with friends and designed to get a reaction. The lessons are less the "shoulda coulda woulda" kind, and more what we learn about ourselves, our limits, and our coping skills at these times. This is also why we travel.
April 10, 2006
A vacation within a vacation
Sometimes you need a break. As previously promised, we've been idling on a remote island in the middle of the Indian Ocean. After cold mountains, smoggy cities and too much transit, we finally found some respite on a hammock by a beach, with a coconut in one hand and a book in the other.
If you spin your globe a few degrees east of the Indian coastline, you might spot the Andamans as specks out there, not far from the epicenter of the tsunami of a couple years back. Most of the chain was relatively unharmed by the tidal waves - our guest house saw a beer cooler and an oven float away - but the crash in tourism really hurt the local economy. So we went on a relief mission to prop it up. This was the humanitarian portion of our trip, really.
Havelock Island is one of the most accessible and visited of the chain. While it is the most touristed, it is still a backwater with frequent shortages of just about anything except fish. As you might imagine, we ate a lot of fish. And laid around in hammocks. The island is relatively sheltered from the open sea by surrounding islands, so the surf was negligible, the water cristaline and the temperature bath-like. It was like the island was surrounded by a giant heated pool. We went snorkeling in a 'Finding Nemo'-like environment one day. The going was difficult.
Seriously, though, the downtime proved a great time to do a little bit of meditating, both of the quiet-sitting and mulling-over-your-life type. A kind of peace has settled over me and I got a glimpse of what I would like my life to be. In some ways, this was no profound insight. The elements have been there before - socially conscious concerns, including sustainable agriculture, a degree of income independence, and a strong desire to father a family - but the path to unifying them became a little clearer last week.
I'm writing this from Delhi, where we are taking a brief break from our three-day sojourn to Rishikesh to celebrate Passover. As we've descended into the thick of India's cities (Calcutta for a few hours and Delhi overnight), a broad smile has come over my face. I love this place! Both of us were sort of dreading leaving the quiet easiness of island life, but as we sped by, and later walked through, the city streets teeming with life, my blood starting pumping again. It's hard to believe it's been nearly two months and harder yet to grasp the reality of returning in about two weeks. I've absorbed so much, but it's only a scratch on the surface of this amazing country. So it goes.
If you spin your globe a few degrees east of the Indian coastline, you might spot the Andamans as specks out there, not far from the epicenter of the tsunami of a couple years back. Most of the chain was relatively unharmed by the tidal waves - our guest house saw a beer cooler and an oven float away - but the crash in tourism really hurt the local economy. So we went on a relief mission to prop it up. This was the humanitarian portion of our trip, really.
Havelock Island is one of the most accessible and visited of the chain. While it is the most touristed, it is still a backwater with frequent shortages of just about anything except fish. As you might imagine, we ate a lot of fish. And laid around in hammocks. The island is relatively sheltered from the open sea by surrounding islands, so the surf was negligible, the water cristaline and the temperature bath-like. It was like the island was surrounded by a giant heated pool. We went snorkeling in a 'Finding Nemo'-like environment one day. The going was difficult.
Seriously, though, the downtime proved a great time to do a little bit of meditating, both of the quiet-sitting and mulling-over-your-life type. A kind of peace has settled over me and I got a glimpse of what I would like my life to be. In some ways, this was no profound insight. The elements have been there before - socially conscious concerns, including sustainable agriculture, a degree of income independence, and a strong desire to father a family - but the path to unifying them became a little clearer last week.
I'm writing this from Delhi, where we are taking a brief break from our three-day sojourn to Rishikesh to celebrate Passover. As we've descended into the thick of India's cities (Calcutta for a few hours and Delhi overnight), a broad smile has come over my face. I love this place! Both of us were sort of dreading leaving the quiet easiness of island life, but as we sped by, and later walked through, the city streets teeming with life, my blood starting pumping again. It's hard to believe it's been nearly two months and harder yet to grasp the reality of returning in about two weeks. I've absorbed so much, but it's only a scratch on the surface of this amazing country. So it goes.
March 31, 2006
Why We Travel, part one
This is a thread of thought I've been contemplating. It is to be continued.
We travel to meet new people, see new places and experience new things. We travel to share stories the likes of which you don't get in books. Ultimately, we travel to understand our world, and hopefully ourselves, a little better. The story of our Sikkim trek holds a little bit of all of this. This is the vignette of how we ended up on the top of a mountain, next to a small monastery, in a village of sixteen families by dint of a headache, a visiting Lama, and a broken boot.
We wanted to do a modest low-altitude trek to see some historic Buddhist monasteries in Sikkim, formerly part of a Nepali empire and home to a strain of Tibetan Buddhism. All descriptions we could find made the loop sound modestly strenuous, but eminently doable. Scampering down the first long shortcut through beautifully dense semi-tropical vegetation, Amberly got a migraine. Her medication turned out to be less than effective when followed by more blood-pumping hiking instead of a 10 minute lie-down. When we reached the road again, it was hot and completely devoid of shade. We decided to hitch the first ride that came by. How could we know who it would be?
We arrived at Khatchapuri Lake in the entourage of the Lama of Ladakh, and quickly gravitated to the handful of backpacking Westerners watching the festivities. Before we knew it, we were lugging our pared-down gear up a mountain overlooking the lake, sipping tea and waiting for our host’s sister to vacate her room so we might stay in it. Run by the Dalai Lama’s former personal chef, our mountain oasis had 360° views of the Himalaya foothills, prepared meals and a laid-back group of fellow travelers with whom to relax and share stories. Then and there, we decided to forego the rest of our trek and stay a while.
It was a good thing, too, because when I shed my hiking boots in our room, I discovered the sole of the left boot was anxious to separate from its leather upper. I had taken this trusty pair along on its last outing, conscious of the fact that, through age and a bit of neglect on my end, they would not be lasting much longer. Now, they were a heel-seam away from being utterly useless. By the time I went down and back next morning for a meditation at the Lake, the attached part of the seam was down to an inch. So long, boot and so long, trek!
Over a fire that night, built and fed by an eager group of children, we settled into the unending flow of conversation that transpires among travelers. We talked politics, local customs, personal backgrounds and wacky experiences. We even found eerie connections amongst ourselves. Perhaps these are folks we might not have encountered had we stayed home. We likely wouldn’t have spoken if we did. This is why we travel.
For a slightly different and expanded telling of these events, take a look at this post.
Postscript: A few of the folks we met on the mountain shared a jeep back to town with us a couple of days later. We shared a drawn-out meal (if not entirely by design) and a cake for my birthday. Amberly and Jenny found a great exploding and singing candle for me. What a treat!
We travel to meet new people, see new places and experience new things. We travel to share stories the likes of which you don't get in books. Ultimately, we travel to understand our world, and hopefully ourselves, a little better. The story of our Sikkim trek holds a little bit of all of this. This is the vignette of how we ended up on the top of a mountain, next to a small monastery, in a village of sixteen families by dint of a headache, a visiting Lama, and a broken boot.
We wanted to do a modest low-altitude trek to see some historic Buddhist monasteries in Sikkim, formerly part of a Nepali empire and home to a strain of Tibetan Buddhism. All descriptions we could find made the loop sound modestly strenuous, but eminently doable. Scampering down the first long shortcut through beautifully dense semi-tropical vegetation, Amberly got a migraine. Her medication turned out to be less than effective when followed by more blood-pumping hiking instead of a 10 minute lie-down. When we reached the road again, it was hot and completely devoid of shade. We decided to hitch the first ride that came by. How could we know who it would be?
We arrived at Khatchapuri Lake in the entourage of the Lama of Ladakh, and quickly gravitated to the handful of backpacking Westerners watching the festivities. Before we knew it, we were lugging our pared-down gear up a mountain overlooking the lake, sipping tea and waiting for our host’s sister to vacate her room so we might stay in it. Run by the Dalai Lama’s former personal chef, our mountain oasis had 360° views of the Himalaya foothills, prepared meals and a laid-back group of fellow travelers with whom to relax and share stories. Then and there, we decided to forego the rest of our trek and stay a while.
It was a good thing, too, because when I shed my hiking boots in our room, I discovered the sole of the left boot was anxious to separate from its leather upper. I had taken this trusty pair along on its last outing, conscious of the fact that, through age and a bit of neglect on my end, they would not be lasting much longer. Now, they were a heel-seam away from being utterly useless. By the time I went down and back next morning for a meditation at the Lake, the attached part of the seam was down to an inch. So long, boot and so long, trek!
Over a fire that night, built and fed by an eager group of children, we settled into the unending flow of conversation that transpires among travelers. We talked politics, local customs, personal backgrounds and wacky experiences. We even found eerie connections amongst ourselves. Perhaps these are folks we might not have encountered had we stayed home. We likely wouldn’t have spoken if we did. This is why we travel.
For a slightly different and expanded telling of these events, take a look at this post.
Postscript: A few of the folks we met on the mountain shared a jeep back to town with us a couple of days later. We shared a drawn-out meal (if not entirely by design) and a cake for my birthday. Amberly and Jenny found a great exploding and singing candle for me. What a treat!
March 25, 2006
Finally, a clearing
After five days socked in here in Darjeeling, the sky finally cleared enough to see the mountain we'd been promised! Kanchanjunga is the second tallest mountain in the world and it is barely visible in the photo there (click on it for a bigger view).
Other than today, it's been cloudy and cold - cold enough to inspire me to look in the guidebook for warm and sunny places to take a detour. A few days ago, we made the impulse decision fly to the Andaman Islands for a week, following our trek in Sikkim (which starts tomorrow)! A tropical beach vacation sounds like the write medicine for this cold... I don't know if we'll find time or a connection to blog for some time, so I thought I'd put up a quick entry and some photos to tide you over.
We had a great tour of the Makaibari Tea Estate in Kurseong at the beginning of the last week. It is the first organic and biodynamically grown estate in the region, and they treated us to a great tour and tasting. Hiking back into town, we stopped off at the Tea Research Institute and got a great little (impromptu) tour by one of the researchers there. Only wish we had spent more time in Kurseong exploring the world of fine tea. I did buy a bunch and will be putting together a presentation and tasting when I return... Sign up now! :*)
Other than today, it's been cloudy and cold - cold enough to inspire me to look in the guidebook for warm and sunny places to take a detour. A few days ago, we made the impulse decision fly to the Andaman Islands for a week, following our trek in Sikkim (which starts tomorrow)! A tropical beach vacation sounds like the write medicine for this cold... I don't know if we'll find time or a connection to blog for some time, so I thought I'd put up a quick entry and some photos to tide you over.
We had a great tour of the Makaibari Tea Estate in Kurseong at the beginning of the last week. It is the first organic and biodynamically grown estate in the region, and they treated us to a great tour and tasting. Hiking back into town, we stopped off at the Tea Research Institute and got a great little (impromptu) tour by one of the researchers there. Only wish we had spent more time in Kurseong exploring the world of fine tea. I did buy a bunch and will be putting together a presentation and tasting when I return... Sign up now! :*)
March 20, 2006
A quick update
Photos are up! I hate to break chronology, but here is the only photographic proof that we did see the Taj Mahal in person. It is every bit as astonishing as you might think... I've put up a semi-representative smattering of our wanderings so far.
We arrived in the sleepy backwater mountain town of Kurseong, near Darjeeling, this afternoon. We hope to visit a couple of tea plantations tomorrow, and take the first of our mountain romps. So exciting to pull on a fleece, after sweating through shirts for a month straight!
Late add-on: Amberly has put up a nice post that neatly encapsulates our stay in Varanasi...
We arrived in the sleepy backwater mountain town of Kurseong, near Darjeeling, this afternoon. We hope to visit a couple of tea plantations tomorrow, and take the first of our mountain romps. So exciting to pull on a fleece, after sweating through shirts for a month straight!
Late add-on: Amberly has put up a nice post that neatly encapsulates our stay in Varanasi...
March 19, 2006
Spiritual India, part two
While in Varanasi, I've asked a few folks - why is India spiritual? The answers sort of fit in with some observations I've made on my own. So here's a crack at it.
Sacred Spaces
Certainly, India is the cradle for several religions, Hinduism and Buddhism the most prominent of them. Hinduism (from which Buddhism spawned) has come to being over thousands of years, amalgamating bits from different ethnic groups along the way. The history I'll once again leave for you to research.
There is something to be said for the religion having grown up next to its cradle. As we've discovered in our travels, there are places (like Varanasi, arguably the oldest living city in the world) that have been holy for longer than most religions have existed! Sacred places everywhere take on more spiritual energy the longer they are so. It's no accident that churches get built on top of Druid sacred ground or that temples are razed in favor of mosques. Places have meaning. It's no small wonder, then, that India has become charged in ways few other places have, after generations and generations of people went to the same places to worship.
Is it the water or is it in the blood?
The reverse angle was posited by a zealous young man yesterday evening: People in India had a religious ancestry that has been passed down. It's genetic! I have noticed (and have been told) that Indians are a very emotional people. To whit, Hindi is a very emotionally expressive language. I don't think it's too big of a leap to say that people who are in touch with their emotions tend to also be more attuned to spirit (saying this without judgment one way or another). It begs the question a bit to say emotionality is the reason rather than place, since the former could easily influence the latter, but it's an interesting observation all the same.
Accident of History
Another evocative theory came from the gentleman I spoke of in the last post. He seemed to be saying (among many other things) that India's (and Hinduism's) continued deep spirituality was quite accidental. Where other major politically dominant world religions (e.g. Christianity, Islam) had their theology corrupted somewhere along the line to serve the ends of the powerful, Hinduism has stayed true (truer?) to some essential spiritual truths, and always kept an eye on individual enlightenment.
This sentiment has no shortage of controversy contained in it, not to mention holes riddling it. Nonetheless, if it accounts for a bit of the explanation, it is worth examining.
The Last Word
As spirituality goes, neither Hinduism or India have the last word, of course. There are many movements within the world's religions (Renewal Judaism among them, in my humblest opinion :) that have it right, as well as sacred places (Jerusalem, anyone?) that yield no ground in the sacred places arena.
Perhaps India's cachet is its foreign-ness. I recently heard of a western woman who married an Indian man and has been living here for the last 20 years. Even though she's fluent enough in Hindi, she purports to understand only 60% of what is happening culturally, even in her day-to-day context. The mythology is so dense and alluring, and the history so long, that is continues to attract western seekers to its shores.
Perhaps the mainstream west has gotten so caught up in a world of secular materialism and turned off by right-wing religious ideology that it would rather bathe in these waters than shower near its own cradle. But that's a topic for another time.
This short essay doesn't do the topic justice. Consider it a thought process, and I'd love to hear your feedback.
Sacred Spaces
Certainly, India is the cradle for several religions, Hinduism and Buddhism the most prominent of them. Hinduism (from which Buddhism spawned) has come to being over thousands of years, amalgamating bits from different ethnic groups along the way. The history I'll once again leave for you to research.
There is something to be said for the religion having grown up next to its cradle. As we've discovered in our travels, there are places (like Varanasi, arguably the oldest living city in the world) that have been holy for longer than most religions have existed! Sacred places everywhere take on more spiritual energy the longer they are so. It's no accident that churches get built on top of Druid sacred ground or that temples are razed in favor of mosques. Places have meaning. It's no small wonder, then, that India has become charged in ways few other places have, after generations and generations of people went to the same places to worship.
Is it the water or is it in the blood?
The reverse angle was posited by a zealous young man yesterday evening: People in India had a religious ancestry that has been passed down. It's genetic! I have noticed (and have been told) that Indians are a very emotional people. To whit, Hindi is a very emotionally expressive language. I don't think it's too big of a leap to say that people who are in touch with their emotions tend to also be more attuned to spirit (saying this without judgment one way or another). It begs the question a bit to say emotionality is the reason rather than place, since the former could easily influence the latter, but it's an interesting observation all the same.
Accident of History
Another evocative theory came from the gentleman I spoke of in the last post. He seemed to be saying (among many other things) that India's (and Hinduism's) continued deep spirituality was quite accidental. Where other major politically dominant world religions (e.g. Christianity, Islam) had their theology corrupted somewhere along the line to serve the ends of the powerful, Hinduism has stayed true (truer?) to some essential spiritual truths, and always kept an eye on individual enlightenment.
This sentiment has no shortage of controversy contained in it, not to mention holes riddling it. Nonetheless, if it accounts for a bit of the explanation, it is worth examining.
The Last Word
As spirituality goes, neither Hinduism or India have the last word, of course. There are many movements within the world's religions (Renewal Judaism among them, in my humblest opinion :) that have it right, as well as sacred places (Jerusalem, anyone?) that yield no ground in the sacred places arena.
Perhaps India's cachet is its foreign-ness. I recently heard of a western woman who married an Indian man and has been living here for the last 20 years. Even though she's fluent enough in Hindi, she purports to understand only 60% of what is happening culturally, even in her day-to-day context. The mythology is so dense and alluring, and the history so long, that is continues to attract western seekers to its shores.
Perhaps the mainstream west has gotten so caught up in a world of secular materialism and turned off by right-wing religious ideology that it would rather bathe in these waters than shower near its own cradle. But that's a topic for another time.
This short essay doesn't do the topic justice. Consider it a thought process, and I'd love to hear your feedback.
March 18, 2006
Ineffable Varanasi
First off, apologies for the lack of pictures. Uploading them in this town has proven a task requiring more computer patience than I currently have...
Listening to the Universe
Events have conspired to keep us here a bit longer, and a happy conspiracy it's been! Here's how it's gone: we were meant to leave on Friday morning to spend Shabbat and the weekend in Bohdgaya, the place of Buddha's enlightenment. Thursday, I went to a booking agent to get our onward ticket from Patna, a transit point for Bohdgaya, to NJP, the station serving the vicinity of Darjeeling. I returned in the evening to pick up the ticket. As we made small-talk, our time of (Friday) departure came up. When I told the man that we were leaving at 10am, he looked at me and said, "I think your ticket must be for Thursday?" I responded that, no, we had planned a Friday departure. He then showed up the schedule book, and sure enough, the regular 10am train only runs on Thursdays and Saturdays. We went home, a bit apprehensive, but pretty sure we had our ticket right - maybe we had mis-remembered the time? Anyway, our ticket hadn't been ready, so the booking agent promised to bring it by our guest house around 9 o'clock that evening.
At ten minutes past 10pm, Mr. Santosh arrived, all smiles and apologies. We had been waiting anxiously because, indeed, we had flat-out missed our train that morning! Santosh being an experienced train guy, we wanted to ask him about our options, especially since we had just booked our onward trip. He explained what we could do (take the 6 Rp -$.14 - with the other half a million people on the unassigned seat car) and handed over the promised onward tickets. Upon careful scrutiny - not going to make the same mistake so soon - I saw it wasn't for Patna-NJP, but rather Varanasi-NJP! This was too much. When the universe speaks this clearly, you have no choice but to listen.
Shabbat Shalom
The opportunity we had been presented was nothing short of a blessing. We had both been bemoaning the fact that we were going to be leaving so soon. Four nights had seemed like plenty on paper, but we had both been swept up in this city. Everything I've read about Varanasi does it justice and sells it short at the same time. The best word to describe it is 'ineffable'. There are so many facets to the city, from the breath-taking sweep of the river Ganges aside it to the barely-navigable alleys that take you where you want to go, even after you're convinced you're lost. This is also India's spiritual core and cultural cross-section. Life happens, full-on, in the streets and on the holy river's banks. You can eat, sleep, bathe, defecate, dance & die at the river's side, even get a shave (mine took off my sideburns clear up to my ears, but that's another story) without losing sight of the water.
A gentleman I spoke to today said that when the Buddha came through 3500 years ago, he was so intimidated by the spiritual power of this place, that he dared not preach here, instead going down the road to Sarnath for his first teaching. Now that's the kind of place to observe the Sabbath! We spent most of Friday shopping and getting ready for Shabbat - our first such thorough readiness. As we have been observing Shabbat, we realized that an important part of the observance (as it is for any spiritual occasion) lies in the preparation. The tasks put you in the mind of the event. We got some real bread and cheese from the bakery, fruits & vegetables from the market, home-made muesli and jam from a woman's cooperative, and new candles and fruit juice (sadly, no wine to be had) for havdallah. The day was peaceful and truly special.
Yoga on the Ganges
You knew this was coming: the day I finally broke down and took my first yoga class. I have resisted intense peer-pressure in San Francisco, where yoga practitioners must outnumber us heathens by at least 3:1... I couldn't resist the offer though, to do yoga at dawn overlooking the Ganges. We had met a beatific Saddhu a few days before at the Ganga temple, where a nightly riverside ritual is prime-time entertainment for pilgrims and tourists alike. I had gotten to know Saddhu Mishra over the last few days over some chai and afternoon chats. When we went by on Friday afternoon with news of our travels' postponement, he dangled a carrot too juicy to leave on the string. We could pay on Sunday, and take 3 sessions: Saturday and Sunday 6am and Saturday 6pm. We bit. The instructor (a sometime resident of the temple) walked us through in very broken English, but I got a couple of essential nuggets to keep me going. The best yoga ever? Doubtful. An absolutely amazing experience? Check.
Listening to the Universe
Events have conspired to keep us here a bit longer, and a happy conspiracy it's been! Here's how it's gone: we were meant to leave on Friday morning to spend Shabbat and the weekend in Bohdgaya, the place of Buddha's enlightenment. Thursday, I went to a booking agent to get our onward ticket from Patna, a transit point for Bohdgaya, to NJP, the station serving the vicinity of Darjeeling. I returned in the evening to pick up the ticket. As we made small-talk, our time of (Friday) departure came up. When I told the man that we were leaving at 10am, he looked at me and said, "I think your ticket must be for Thursday?" I responded that, no, we had planned a Friday departure. He then showed up the schedule book, and sure enough, the regular 10am train only runs on Thursdays and Saturdays. We went home, a bit apprehensive, but pretty sure we had our ticket right - maybe we had mis-remembered the time? Anyway, our ticket hadn't been ready, so the booking agent promised to bring it by our guest house around 9 o'clock that evening.
At ten minutes past 10pm, Mr. Santosh arrived, all smiles and apologies. We had been waiting anxiously because, indeed, we had flat-out missed our train that morning! Santosh being an experienced train guy, we wanted to ask him about our options, especially since we had just booked our onward trip. He explained what we could do (take the 6 Rp -$.14 - with the other half a million people on the unassigned seat car) and handed over the promised onward tickets. Upon careful scrutiny - not going to make the same mistake so soon - I saw it wasn't for Patna-NJP, but rather Varanasi-NJP! This was too much. When the universe speaks this clearly, you have no choice but to listen.
Shabbat Shalom
The opportunity we had been presented was nothing short of a blessing. We had both been bemoaning the fact that we were going to be leaving so soon. Four nights had seemed like plenty on paper, but we had both been swept up in this city. Everything I've read about Varanasi does it justice and sells it short at the same time. The best word to describe it is 'ineffable'. There are so many facets to the city, from the breath-taking sweep of the river Ganges aside it to the barely-navigable alleys that take you where you want to go, even after you're convinced you're lost. This is also India's spiritual core and cultural cross-section. Life happens, full-on, in the streets and on the holy river's banks. You can eat, sleep, bathe, defecate, dance & die at the river's side, even get a shave (mine took off my sideburns clear up to my ears, but that's another story) without losing sight of the water.
A gentleman I spoke to today said that when the Buddha came through 3500 years ago, he was so intimidated by the spiritual power of this place, that he dared not preach here, instead going down the road to Sarnath for his first teaching. Now that's the kind of place to observe the Sabbath! We spent most of Friday shopping and getting ready for Shabbat - our first such thorough readiness. As we have been observing Shabbat, we realized that an important part of the observance (as it is for any spiritual occasion) lies in the preparation. The tasks put you in the mind of the event. We got some real bread and cheese from the bakery, fruits & vegetables from the market, home-made muesli and jam from a woman's cooperative, and new candles and fruit juice (sadly, no wine to be had) for havdallah. The day was peaceful and truly special.
Yoga on the Ganges
You knew this was coming: the day I finally broke down and took my first yoga class. I have resisted intense peer-pressure in San Francisco, where yoga practitioners must outnumber us heathens by at least 3:1... I couldn't resist the offer though, to do yoga at dawn overlooking the Ganges. We had met a beatific Saddhu a few days before at the Ganga temple, where a nightly riverside ritual is prime-time entertainment for pilgrims and tourists alike. I had gotten to know Saddhu Mishra over the last few days over some chai and afternoon chats. When we went by on Friday afternoon with news of our travels' postponement, he dangled a carrot too juicy to leave on the string. We could pay on Sunday, and take 3 sessions: Saturday and Sunday 6am and Saturday 6pm. We bit. The instructor (a sometime resident of the temple) walked us through in very broken English, but I got a couple of essential nuggets to keep me going. The best yoga ever? Doubtful. An absolutely amazing experience? Check.
March 14, 2006
Where the dead go
It's been a little bit since the last post. We've been taking it very slow for the last few beats. Amberly has a good post with some highlights. Pictures will go up by the end of the week.
We arrived in Varanasi yesterday, to much bustling and goings on. Since the train station and a temple were bombed here last week, security has been heightened. Compounded with the fact that the raucous Holi festival starts tonight, there has been much activity on the streets! It seems the city has recovered well from the bombings, and the atmosphere is fairly normal, if reportedly subdued for a major holiday.
Nevertheless, our stay in Varanasi has been nothing short of magical. We are staying right on the Ganges, off a quieter ghat that was once so austentatiously built that it sank into the river! It had to be rebuilt... The entire riverside is paved with ghats, each with its own sponsor and special significance. We witnessed a sunset puja last night and people-watched on the steps. This morning, we took a pre-dawn boat-ride. I'm still composing my thoughts about the experience, but...wow.
This afternoon, we found a great little bakery and restaurant that supports a school for poor children in the area, bakes a mean brown bread and sells real cheese!!! Such a treat to have a cheese plate, I can't even tell you.
We arrived in Varanasi yesterday, to much bustling and goings on. Since the train station and a temple were bombed here last week, security has been heightened. Compounded with the fact that the raucous Holi festival starts tonight, there has been much activity on the streets! It seems the city has recovered well from the bombings, and the atmosphere is fairly normal, if reportedly subdued for a major holiday.
Nevertheless, our stay in Varanasi has been nothing short of magical. We are staying right on the Ganges, off a quieter ghat that was once so austentatiously built that it sank into the river! It had to be rebuilt... The entire riverside is paved with ghats, each with its own sponsor and special significance. We witnessed a sunset puja last night and people-watched on the steps. This morning, we took a pre-dawn boat-ride. I'm still composing my thoughts about the experience, but...wow.
This afternoon, we found a great little bakery and restaurant that supports a school for poor children in the area, bakes a mean brown bread and sells real cheese!!! Such a treat to have a cheese plate, I can't even tell you.
March 06, 2006
Spiritual India, part one
This is the first in what I hope will be a series of dispatches from or about spiritual places in India. I don't know where it will lead, but I hope it will be enjoyable!
Brahma Ghat, Pushkar
We arrived in Pushkar in time to prepare for Shabbat, which we've been observing every week during our trip (okay, we missed one - it was an oversight, ok?). This has been a wonderful experience. Obviously, it's hard to cook your own meals, but we've been lighting candles, finding delight in creation, not spending money (arranging payment for food to be made on account), and trying to not make anyone else do any work on our behalf. I will write more about Shabbat in India after a few more weeks of practice to tell you more about our experiences. Suffice it to say, it was a great way to wrap up what had been a hectic week.
The Setting
Pushkar is home to roughly 1000 temples and 51 bathing ghats (steps down to the water), including one of each dedicated to Brahma, the god of creation, and one of the big three in Hinduism. Apparently, these are the only such dedicated to Brahma in all of India, and probably the world. The lake in the middle of town is said to be where Brahma dropped a lotus from heaven and performed a yagna or fire sacrifice. I will leave the details of the story and the research to those interested - you can stick the keywords in google as well as I can! NOTE: Brahma is different from Brahman...
A Quick Prayer
I visited the Brahma sacred sites yesterday, to see what I could see. Worship is a far sight different from what we're used to in western synagogues or churches, at least from my outsider's perspective. A visit to a temple is almost cursory: offer a quick prayer, ring a bell, give your flower/sugarcube offering to the priest, and that's about it. The kids were offered some of the sugar candies, and (holy lake?) water was ladled into the mouths of some of the faithful. Some lingered, contemplating the shrine for a few moments before moving on to the next one. The Brahma temple houses a number of shrines, including a couple of underground "cave" shrines to Shiva (another of the main triumverate), complete with a stone lingum and yoni platform, over which I was instructed to pour water. I wish I could have lingered at these more, but they were cramped caves and a line was forming. The practice, anyway, was to pay your respects and move on along the circuit.
Clarity, It's In The Water
It wasn't until I was directed* to the bathing ghat that the focus of worship became clearer to me. At the ghat, I was led through a puja involving a series of mantras, hand washings and swishings-about of a plate with: vermilion & sandalwood pastes, rice, sugar, flowers, a coconut and some water. After it was all said and done, the pastes and rice were smeared together and dotted on my forehead, and an ochre/saffron-colored string tied around my wrist. The ceremony of the thing did what it was supposed to do, I suppose. It cleared my mind to think about the wonder of creation and take in my surroundings. In sharp contrast to the perfunctory nature of the shrine visit, Indians of all stripes were mindfully performing variants on what I had done, including taking handfuls of what by all accounts was filthy lake water into their mouths, and stripping to their shorts to dip in the lake. Water was a key element in all of this.
A part of my own ceremony that struck me as particularly poignant was the dabbing of water on my eyes, my "third eye", my shoulders and my chest, in turn cleansing my sight, my mind, my body, and my heart. The healing power of water (as I'm sure will be reiterated on the banks of the Ganges) is a strong and powerful theme here. Cleansing of the body transcends metaphor to directly become cleansing of the spirit. This idea, of course, is not unique to Hinduism. You need only look as far as the mikvah or baptismal font to see strong, if not exact parallels in western religion. Water; the ultimate detergent. Water; elixir of life. Water.
*Yes, I did have a student priest attach himself to me, and after his protests of 'no money' nonetheless extracted a small monetary offering. I am of two minds regarding this: on the one hand, I feel its a tad gauche to charge for a sacred site and opportunistic to milk hapless visitors for 'donations', as it's difficult to know whether they are indeed that. On the other hand, I did see his official priest card and I do feel it appropriate to pay a token sum for intruding on a holy place. After all, our places of worship ask for periodic offerings (call them memberships, tithes or what you like) to sustain them - it only makes sense that a place of pilgrimage does this on the spot, as it were. Anyhow, I'm okay with it!
Brahma Ghat, Pushkar
We arrived in Pushkar in time to prepare for Shabbat, which we've been observing every week during our trip (okay, we missed one - it was an oversight, ok?). This has been a wonderful experience. Obviously, it's hard to cook your own meals, but we've been lighting candles, finding delight in creation, not spending money (arranging payment for food to be made on account), and trying to not make anyone else do any work on our behalf. I will write more about Shabbat in India after a few more weeks of practice to tell you more about our experiences. Suffice it to say, it was a great way to wrap up what had been a hectic week.
The Setting
Pushkar is home to roughly 1000 temples and 51 bathing ghats (steps down to the water), including one of each dedicated to Brahma, the god of creation, and one of the big three in Hinduism. Apparently, these are the only such dedicated to Brahma in all of India, and probably the world. The lake in the middle of town is said to be where Brahma dropped a lotus from heaven and performed a yagna or fire sacrifice. I will leave the details of the story and the research to those interested - you can stick the keywords in google as well as I can! NOTE: Brahma is different from Brahman...
A Quick Prayer
I visited the Brahma sacred sites yesterday, to see what I could see. Worship is a far sight different from what we're used to in western synagogues or churches, at least from my outsider's perspective. A visit to a temple is almost cursory: offer a quick prayer, ring a bell, give your flower/sugarcube offering to the priest, and that's about it. The kids were offered some of the sugar candies, and (holy lake?) water was ladled into the mouths of some of the faithful. Some lingered, contemplating the shrine for a few moments before moving on to the next one. The Brahma temple houses a number of shrines, including a couple of underground "cave" shrines to Shiva (another of the main triumverate), complete with a stone lingum and yoni platform, over which I was instructed to pour water. I wish I could have lingered at these more, but they were cramped caves and a line was forming. The practice, anyway, was to pay your respects and move on along the circuit.
Clarity, It's In The Water
It wasn't until I was directed* to the bathing ghat that the focus of worship became clearer to me. At the ghat, I was led through a puja involving a series of mantras, hand washings and swishings-about of a plate with: vermilion & sandalwood pastes, rice, sugar, flowers, a coconut and some water. After it was all said and done, the pastes and rice were smeared together and dotted on my forehead, and an ochre/saffron-colored string tied around my wrist. The ceremony of the thing did what it was supposed to do, I suppose. It cleared my mind to think about the wonder of creation and take in my surroundings. In sharp contrast to the perfunctory nature of the shrine visit, Indians of all stripes were mindfully performing variants on what I had done, including taking handfuls of what by all accounts was filthy lake water into their mouths, and stripping to their shorts to dip in the lake. Water was a key element in all of this.
A part of my own ceremony that struck me as particularly poignant was the dabbing of water on my eyes, my "third eye", my shoulders and my chest, in turn cleansing my sight, my mind, my body, and my heart. The healing power of water (as I'm sure will be reiterated on the banks of the Ganges) is a strong and powerful theme here. Cleansing of the body transcends metaphor to directly become cleansing of the spirit. This idea, of course, is not unique to Hinduism. You need only look as far as the mikvah or baptismal font to see strong, if not exact parallels in western religion. Water; the ultimate detergent. Water; elixir of life. Water.
*Yes, I did have a student priest attach himself to me, and after his protests of 'no money' nonetheless extracted a small monetary offering. I am of two minds regarding this: on the one hand, I feel its a tad gauche to charge for a sacred site and opportunistic to milk hapless visitors for 'donations', as it's difficult to know whether they are indeed that. On the other hand, I did see his official priest card and I do feel it appropriate to pay a token sum for intruding on a holy place. After all, our places of worship ask for periodic offerings (call them memberships, tithes or what you like) to sustain them - it only makes sense that a place of pilgrimage does this on the spot, as it were. Anyhow, I'm okay with it!
March 02, 2006
Led by the nose
Not me, the camel! We returned yesterday from a lovely sojourn in the Thar desert on camel-back. After the constant noise and bustle of inhabited India, the desert was blissfully quiet. We trekked around in the morning, then had a nice lunch and "hot-time" break under a surprisingly shady tree. The guides whipped up an absolutely killer curry and chapatti (from scratch, mind you) while the camels, unsaddled, roamed around with a small length of rope around their front legs for impeding their running away.
Another couple of hours led us through a watering-hole village and finally to a lovely set of dunes where we camped. After a sumptuous dinner, the guides sang camel songs around the campfire. The stars were absolutely amazing.
Jaisalmer was a great little place. The fort is absolutely amazing (more photos to come, but quite a few photos uploaded) - all made of sandstone through and through. I spent the first 24 hours laid up in bed with 'Delhi belly', but nothing to be concerned with. We're in Jodhpur today, seeing the last of our Moghul forts here, and then off to Pushkar for some R&R. I hope to write more from there.
Another couple of hours led us through a watering-hole village and finally to a lovely set of dunes where we camped. After a sumptuous dinner, the guides sang camel songs around the campfire. The stars were absolutely amazing.
Jaisalmer was a great little place. The fort is absolutely amazing (more photos to come, but quite a few photos uploaded) - all made of sandstone through and through. I spent the first 24 hours laid up in bed with 'Delhi belly', but nothing to be concerned with. We're in Jodhpur today, seeing the last of our Moghul forts here, and then off to Pushkar for some R&R. I hope to write more from there.
February 24, 2006
Random bits
Spending some time in this internet cubicle while we wait for our midnight train to Geo...er, Jaisalmer, the Golden City. Rajasthan has this tourist schtick (okay, okay, they might have some historical significance) of naming its cities after the predominant color of the houses. Jaipur is the pink city, Jodhpur is blue, and Jaisalmer is golden. Here are a few stray crumbs of thoughts from over the past few days, in not particular order. No new pix posted yet, since this is a really slow connection (and old computer!).
-Had an interesting conversation on the busride to Nawalgarh with an overly-earnest (but very sweet & kind) 22-yr old guy by the name of Peeyush. Among many truisms that he spouted about India and its people was that Indians take inter-personal relationships and connections very seriously. While this is a wonderful trait (and something I hope to comment on more in another post), it also makes for little privacy or anonymity in the public arena! Perhaps in the US, we are overly concerned with our privacy, but the flipside is a bit of an overwhelming sense that all the world wants to speak to you and will...such as the 2+ hour conversation we had with this guy, straining to hear over the car horn and road noise.
-There are religious ascetics roaming the streets in varying states of dress all over this land. These are folks that have cast off the trappings of society to dedicate themselves to attaining enlightenment. In the US, we might call them crazy and lock them up or, even more likely, let them roam the streets. Now, I don't mean to say that all ascetics are lunatics or conversely, that all US homeless are relentlessly pursuing enlightenment, but the contrast in the way we treat these folks here and there is striking. There seems to be a certain recognition of grace accorded the ascetics here that is totally lacking in the 'States. Much like the famous sacred cows of India, the ascetics are cared for by the community, their basic needs provided for by what we might call begging...
-There is a brand of car (I think is) exclusive to India called the Ambassador. It was the kind of taxi we took from the airport in Delhi and the car our guide had on our haveli tour (see Amberly's post). Besides being awfully cute (picture to come later), they seem uniquely suited to negotiating teeny alleyways not meant for four-wheeled motor vehicles.
-Some thoughts on the traffic going to and around Shekhawati: Best not to look out the window on the buses! It's a perpetual game of chicken being played on the center divider between the larger, faster moving vehicles--cars, buses--with the horn strategically (read frequently) blown to get the slower traffic--camel-carts, donkey-carts, bikes, scooters--out of the way. Lots of camel-carts! Also, trucks carrying a bulging load (twice the width of the truck) of a giant burlap sack stuffed with what seemed to be hay.
-Walking the side streets in Jaipur's old city recalls similar walks in Siracusa (Sicily) or Marseilles: people living their lives and conducting business much as they have for generations past.
-There are many people here engaged in seemingly senseless tasks designed to keep them employed (or perhaps deliberately under-employed, depending on your view). A few examples: man cutting grass with a pair of scissors, eight waiters in an empty restaurant, woman sweeping trash from one side of an alley to another.
That's all for now. I have some more stuff to tell you about, but it'll have to wait!
-Had an interesting conversation on the busride to Nawalgarh with an overly-earnest (but very sweet & kind) 22-yr old guy by the name of Peeyush. Among many truisms that he spouted about India and its people was that Indians take inter-personal relationships and connections very seriously. While this is a wonderful trait (and something I hope to comment on more in another post), it also makes for little privacy or anonymity in the public arena! Perhaps in the US, we are overly concerned with our privacy, but the flipside is a bit of an overwhelming sense that all the world wants to speak to you and will...such as the 2+ hour conversation we had with this guy, straining to hear over the car horn and road noise.
-There are religious ascetics roaming the streets in varying states of dress all over this land. These are folks that have cast off the trappings of society to dedicate themselves to attaining enlightenment. In the US, we might call them crazy and lock them up or, even more likely, let them roam the streets. Now, I don't mean to say that all ascetics are lunatics or conversely, that all US homeless are relentlessly pursuing enlightenment, but the contrast in the way we treat these folks here and there is striking. There seems to be a certain recognition of grace accorded the ascetics here that is totally lacking in the 'States. Much like the famous sacred cows of India, the ascetics are cared for by the community, their basic needs provided for by what we might call begging...
-There is a brand of car (I think is) exclusive to India called the Ambassador. It was the kind of taxi we took from the airport in Delhi and the car our guide had on our haveli tour (see Amberly's post). Besides being awfully cute (picture to come later), they seem uniquely suited to negotiating teeny alleyways not meant for four-wheeled motor vehicles.
-Some thoughts on the traffic going to and around Shekhawati: Best not to look out the window on the buses! It's a perpetual game of chicken being played on the center divider between the larger, faster moving vehicles--cars, buses--with the horn strategically (read frequently) blown to get the slower traffic--camel-carts, donkey-carts, bikes, scooters--out of the way. Lots of camel-carts! Also, trucks carrying a bulging load (twice the width of the truck) of a giant burlap sack stuffed with what seemed to be hay.
-Walking the side streets in Jaipur's old city recalls similar walks in Siracusa (Sicily) or Marseilles: people living their lives and conducting business much as they have for generations past.
-There are many people here engaged in seemingly senseless tasks designed to keep them employed (or perhaps deliberately under-employed, depending on your view). A few examples: man cutting grass with a pair of scissors, eight waiters in an empty restaurant, woman sweeping trash from one side of an alley to another.
That's all for now. I have some more stuff to tell you about, but it'll have to wait!
February 20, 2006
February 19, 2006
February 18, 2006
Baksheesh & Brahman
This is the title of a book I was reading before I left. It is a travel memoir by Joseph Campbell (the myths guy) about his travels in India. I didn't finish it before we left, but the gist was that he had come in search of Brahman (the holy, the one-ness of the universe) and had come away with the downside of the baksheesh culture, that is, "tips" for everything you do. From how I understand the word, it is used for everything from "buddy, can you spare a dime," from women with babes in arms, to the 'greasing of the wheels' that is so common in the developing world.
My lesson about baksheesh & brahman was a bit more subtle that what I have gotten from the book so far. Perhaps Campbell arrives at the same conclusion, who knows! It has to do with our first full day in Delhi. Amberly & I were wandering about Cannaught Pl, the heart of downtown, taking in a few sights and struggling with our jetlag. We were approached by a number of of touts and beggars, as is common elsewhere in the world.
We were also, however, encountered by a couple of folks who saw us wandering a bit confused and blinking at the dust and smog of the city. They offered assistance in finding what we were looking for (a tourist office and a restaurant, alternately), even walking with us to make sure we didn't get lost, talking all the while. My antennae where up a bit, as I don't like strangers following me, and anyone talking to me must be wanting money. Both of these guys' exclamations to the contrary did not convince me. I did my best to brush them off and get on my way. I wanted to do nothing that would result in having to pay some baksheesh.
A little later, we went in to the tourist office to get our free map of Delhi. We were led to a back office by a middle-aged man named Farook. He asked us similar questions to the previous two: where are you from, when did you get here, how long are you staying, etc. Again, I felt a little pumped for information and like a mark for some sale I didn't want a part of. I remained standing and motioned to Amberly to do the same. At one point, I interrupted the questioning, asking if the map was indeed free, and whether we were free to go.
Farook said, "of course, the map is free. You can take it and go. But I have one piece of advice: I have met many many people, Canadian, Australian, European, and all of them say the same thing - the people make the experience. When somebody is offering free advice, sit down and share with them. Of course I need to make money. You make money at your jobs; everybody needs to make money. But you need to give a little rope to get some enjoyment."
A little shamed, I sat down and we talked some more. He showed us pictures of our next stop and offered us some tea the next time we came back.
It took me a few hours and a nap to grasp the meaning of the morning's experiences. I pride myself in being a saavy traveler, in haggling for prices and not getting sucked into scams. We had heard a lot about scams in India, so I was doubly prepared to foil them. What I wasn't prepared to do was seeing the humanity in the potential scammer, which is an ideal I often espouse at home. In my effort to avoid baksheesh, I was cutting myself off from the potential for brahman, the oneness of humanity we all share.
The standard greeting in Hindi is Namaste, which roughly means, "I ackowledge and honor the diety/spirit (humanity) within you." As we were walking around today, I tried the opposite approach to dealing with people offering rides or goods or whatever: I smiled and made eye contact. What a difference THAT made. More than other places I've been, I got a smile back every time. I am a bit embarrased by the way I treated the folks earlier yesterday. I wish now that I had asked some questions back, acknowledged their humanity.
Maybe baksheesh and brahman go together, instead of standing in opposition to each other. You have to give a little rope in the form of baksheesh OR brahman to get some brahman OR baksheesh back. I'm still chewing on that one.
My lesson about baksheesh & brahman was a bit more subtle that what I have gotten from the book so far. Perhaps Campbell arrives at the same conclusion, who knows! It has to do with our first full day in Delhi. Amberly & I were wandering about Cannaught Pl, the heart of downtown, taking in a few sights and struggling with our jetlag. We were approached by a number of of touts and beggars, as is common elsewhere in the world.
We were also, however, encountered by a couple of folks who saw us wandering a bit confused and blinking at the dust and smog of the city. They offered assistance in finding what we were looking for (a tourist office and a restaurant, alternately), even walking with us to make sure we didn't get lost, talking all the while. My antennae where up a bit, as I don't like strangers following me, and anyone talking to me must be wanting money. Both of these guys' exclamations to the contrary did not convince me. I did my best to brush them off and get on my way. I wanted to do nothing that would result in having to pay some baksheesh.
A little later, we went in to the tourist office to get our free map of Delhi. We were led to a back office by a middle-aged man named Farook. He asked us similar questions to the previous two: where are you from, when did you get here, how long are you staying, etc. Again, I felt a little pumped for information and like a mark for some sale I didn't want a part of. I remained standing and motioned to Amberly to do the same. At one point, I interrupted the questioning, asking if the map was indeed free, and whether we were free to go.
Farook said, "of course, the map is free. You can take it and go. But I have one piece of advice: I have met many many people, Canadian, Australian, European, and all of them say the same thing - the people make the experience. When somebody is offering free advice, sit down and share with them. Of course I need to make money. You make money at your jobs; everybody needs to make money. But you need to give a little rope to get some enjoyment."
A little shamed, I sat down and we talked some more. He showed us pictures of our next stop and offered us some tea the next time we came back.
It took me a few hours and a nap to grasp the meaning of the morning's experiences. I pride myself in being a saavy traveler, in haggling for prices and not getting sucked into scams. We had heard a lot about scams in India, so I was doubly prepared to foil them. What I wasn't prepared to do was seeing the humanity in the potential scammer, which is an ideal I often espouse at home. In my effort to avoid baksheesh, I was cutting myself off from the potential for brahman, the oneness of humanity we all share.
The standard greeting in Hindi is Namaste, which roughly means, "I ackowledge and honor the diety/spirit (humanity) within you." As we were walking around today, I tried the opposite approach to dealing with people offering rides or goods or whatever: I smiled and made eye contact. What a difference THAT made. More than other places I've been, I got a smile back every time. I am a bit embarrased by the way I treated the folks earlier yesterday. I wish now that I had asked some questions back, acknowledged their humanity.
Maybe baksheesh and brahman go together, instead of standing in opposition to each other. You have to give a little rope in the form of baksheesh OR brahman to get some brahman OR baksheesh back. I'm still chewing on that one.
February 17, 2006
We're here!!!
...and pretty exhausted. Today is the first full day in Delhi. I have lots of thoughts and observations, which I will share soon. Meanwhile, go to our Flickr page to see some of our first India sights.
ps - look, I buzzed my hair!
ps - look, I buzzed my hair!
February 12, 2006
A small step...
Our apartment is completely barren now. Okay, except for all of Melissa's* furniture, kitchenware, linens, and the cat... But the rest of it is all in storage, thanks to an heroic effort by my brother-in-law, Parker P, who happened to be in town this week. He worked for a taco dinner - how great is that?
It took a bit of maneuvering and all our combined spatial reasoning skills to get everything to fit in our 10'x12' storage unit. It's stacked to the rafters. Literally. Interspersed are some pictures from Parker's camera phone.
Even with a bare-bones apartment and plans in motion for all the little details you need to tend to when you go away for two and a half months, it still doesn't feel like we'll be in India 3 days from now! We're getting there, one step at a time.
* the gal from whom we've been subletting our apartment
It took a bit of maneuvering and all our combined spatial reasoning skills to get everything to fit in our 10'x12' storage unit. It's stacked to the rafters. Literally. Interspersed are some pictures from Parker's camera phone.
Even with a bare-bones apartment and plans in motion for all the little details you need to tend to when you go away for two and a half months, it still doesn't feel like we'll be in India 3 days from now! We're getting there, one step at a time.
* the gal from whom we've been subletting our apartment
February 08, 2006
Where are we going?
That's the second most popular question we get! Don't know if you'll be able to see much on this map... We have some fun plans for visually showing you where we are, but we'll keep those secret - until we figure it our ourselves!
First off, our itinerary is fairly loose. The point is that we don't want to get caught up in he hustle-bustle of a strict schedule. If we love a place, we'll stay a few extra days. If we don't, we'll book the next train out! With that in mind, here's the rough outline:
New Delhi: land, stay a couple of days to settle & get over jetlag
Rajasthan: 3 weeks, give or take, visiting Jaipur, Pushkar, Shakawati, perhaps Udaipur and (if I can talk Amberly into it) Jaisalmer near the Pakistan border.
Agra: a day or two to see the Taj Mahal and get out.
Orccha: a nice-sounding place to chill for a bit.
Khajuraho: erotic temples, here we come!
Varanasi: the holy city on the Ganges
Bodhgaya: site of Buddha's enlightenment
Darjeeling: tea, anyone?
Sikkim: for a little trekking in the mountains
(fly back to Delhi and make our way to)
Srinigar: a little houseboat action in a forbidden land
McCloud Ganj: to get patted on the head by the Dalai Lama and hopefully find the secret Passover Seder...
As I said, a rough sketch. We'll see what gets cut or added on as we go!
First off, our itinerary is fairly loose. The point is that we don't want to get caught up in he hustle-bustle of a strict schedule. If we love a place, we'll stay a few extra days. If we don't, we'll book the next train out! With that in mind, here's the rough outline:
New Delhi: land, stay a couple of days to settle & get over jetlag
Rajasthan: 3 weeks, give or take, visiting Jaipur, Pushkar, Shakawati, perhaps Udaipur and (if I can talk Amberly into it) Jaisalmer near the Pakistan border.
Agra: a day or two to see the Taj Mahal and get out.
Orccha: a nice-sounding place to chill for a bit.
Khajuraho: erotic temples, here we come!
Varanasi: the holy city on the Ganges
Bodhgaya: site of Buddha's enlightenment
Darjeeling: tea, anyone?
Sikkim: for a little trekking in the mountains
(fly back to Delhi and make our way to)
Srinigar: a little houseboat action in a forbidden land
McCloud Ganj: to get patted on the head by the Dalai Lama and hopefully find the secret Passover Seder...
As I said, a rough sketch. We'll see what gets cut or added on as we go!
February 05, 2006
Why India?
It's a question I've gotten a lot, so I suppose it's worth examining as an introduction to, or a jumping off point for, this trip and this blog.
The easy, conversational answer is that one of the many amazing coincidences of Amberly's & my courtship was our common interest in India as our next major travel destination. It seemed like an appropriate delayed honeymoon and a last hurrah before "settling down," or whatever euphemism you want to use for "starting to have babies". That answer begs the question a bit, though, and isn't entirely satisfactory.
Like many things in my life, the idea came first while my reasons evolved some time later. As we've been getting ready (I'll spare you the mostly-boring details of that), I've been thinking about that question, and I think the subtitle to this blog cuts to the heart of it.
Byways
Most of all, it's about getting out and travelling independently. It clears my head, being out in the world, going down little side streets in foreign towns and getting on a bus with all my belongings on my back. Of course, you can do this lots of places. I suppose part of India's allure is the intensity of the experience: the crush of humanity and the assault on the senses.
A fellow traveller once said to me, "You don't change India, it changes you." Perhaps in a literal way this isn't true - I'm sure I'll find plenty of physical evidence of westernization in parts - but what I think she meant is to check your preconceptions (and your ego) at the airport gate and be open to what is all around you. Getting lost in a place means letting go of a bit of yourself - always a humbling experience and necessary.
Brahman
Some ask me if this is a spiritual journey. The answer is yes and no. There is no doubt that India is ground zero for spiritual questing. From the Buddha to the Beatles, people have wandered that land looking for meaning. It's inevitable that the part of me that shares the same questions and the same quest will be piqued. The more I explore spirituality, the more it becomes clear that all our paths point to the same few truths. To the extent that this seeking is heightened by something in India (it's in the water, DON'T DRINK THE WATER!), I want to tap into that during our journey.
At the same time, I am comfortable and happy with the Jewish trip I'm on. I don't need to find a swami and join an ashram to find enlightenment. That doesn't mean I won't consider a meditation course along the way, but I'm not looking to jump paths. My sense is that enlightenment comes from the depth of your path, not skimming from a bunch of different ones. Brahman, in my limited understanding of Hinduism, is considered at once to be the source of all and also within each individual being. If that's the word we're going to use while in India, so be it.
Myself
Ultimately, this is a trip about me. Taking an extended break from work and "the real world" recharges my batteries in a deep way that a two week vacation never can. The time to hold extended internal dialogues on long train rides while only really worrying about where to eat my next meal is nourishing to my soul. It is a time to tap into my creativity and check in with myself. I think this trip will also be a great venue for Amberly & I to unplug from the daily stresses and just be.
So that's that. I expect the entries here will roam between these three aspects, and hopefully not be as earnestly (and boringly) introspective as this one!
The easy, conversational answer is that one of the many amazing coincidences of Amberly's & my courtship was our common interest in India as our next major travel destination. It seemed like an appropriate delayed honeymoon and a last hurrah before "settling down," or whatever euphemism you want to use for "starting to have babies". That answer begs the question a bit, though, and isn't entirely satisfactory.
Like many things in my life, the idea came first while my reasons evolved some time later. As we've been getting ready (I'll spare you the mostly-boring details of that), I've been thinking about that question, and I think the subtitle to this blog cuts to the heart of it.
Byways
Most of all, it's about getting out and travelling independently. It clears my head, being out in the world, going down little side streets in foreign towns and getting on a bus with all my belongings on my back. Of course, you can do this lots of places. I suppose part of India's allure is the intensity of the experience: the crush of humanity and the assault on the senses.
A fellow traveller once said to me, "You don't change India, it changes you." Perhaps in a literal way this isn't true - I'm sure I'll find plenty of physical evidence of westernization in parts - but what I think she meant is to check your preconceptions (and your ego) at the airport gate and be open to what is all around you. Getting lost in a place means letting go of a bit of yourself - always a humbling experience and necessary.
Brahman
Some ask me if this is a spiritual journey. The answer is yes and no. There is no doubt that India is ground zero for spiritual questing. From the Buddha to the Beatles, people have wandered that land looking for meaning. It's inevitable that the part of me that shares the same questions and the same quest will be piqued. The more I explore spirituality, the more it becomes clear that all our paths point to the same few truths. To the extent that this seeking is heightened by something in India (it's in the water, DON'T DRINK THE WATER!), I want to tap into that during our journey.
At the same time, I am comfortable and happy with the Jewish trip I'm on. I don't need to find a swami and join an ashram to find enlightenment. That doesn't mean I won't consider a meditation course along the way, but I'm not looking to jump paths. My sense is that enlightenment comes from the depth of your path, not skimming from a bunch of different ones. Brahman, in my limited understanding of Hinduism, is considered at once to be the source of all and also within each individual being. If that's the word we're going to use while in India, so be it.
Myself
Ultimately, this is a trip about me. Taking an extended break from work and "the real world" recharges my batteries in a deep way that a two week vacation never can. The time to hold extended internal dialogues on long train rides while only really worrying about where to eat my next meal is nourishing to my soul. It is a time to tap into my creativity and check in with myself. I think this trip will also be a great venue for Amberly & I to unplug from the daily stresses and just be.
So that's that. I expect the entries here will roam between these three aspects, and hopefully not be as earnestly (and boringly) introspective as this one!
January 22, 2006
My drug dealing days are over
The end of an era happened on Friday when my new passport came in the mail along with the cancelled old one. Many, many stamps adorn the inside of that puppy, as does this photo of me looking like a more unsavory South American than I really am. I'm pretty sure this picture got me stopped a few extra times than were warranted. My new picture has a collar.
Last weekend was Nashville
We'll be keeping a repository of all our pictures on Flicker. I'll probably post a healthy dose here, but you can always look at more there.
This photo is from last weekend's adventure to Nashville, to see Colin get married to Tiffany. The reception was on the Vanderbilt campus in the chapel complex, so no drinks were allowed. The siblings (that's Amberly with her sister Autumn and her brother Parker) got together for some post-nuptual merriment.
This photo is from last weekend's adventure to Nashville, to see Colin get married to Tiffany. The reception was on the Vanderbilt campus in the chapel complex, so no drinks were allowed. The siblings (that's Amberly with her sister Autumn and her brother Parker) got together for some post-nuptual merriment.
Sitting in California, ticking the days away
These first several entries will be stateside, driven in equal measure by my desire to get this thing off the ground and the barely-contained excitement at getting going already! Amberly & I have been in intense negotiations over the blog over the last few weeks. Our final decision has been to each keep one and reference the other when we have a particularly good entry. This is primarily motivated by her need to keep all her work intact for professional reasons, but also by my want to keep my own journal.
We've been reading a good deal of these things (travel blogs, that is) recently, and many of them start with an equipment list or similar such thing. I don't know if I will get around to cataloging the contents of my pack, but perhaps the contents of my mind will be fair game.
The last few available weekends we have spent gathering gear, storing our "real" lives away, and trying not to get too carried away. Got most of our first aid kit together today, as well as our preliminary probiotics (see a future entry) and camera case.
None of those things are very interesting to photograph, though... So, for Amberly's birthday, we went to Muir Beach to "test" some of the equipment for the trip, like the boots, the camera, and our high-tech moisture-wicking tops. We took a couple hour hike on the coastal trail and then returned to the beach to cool our heels in the Pacific. Everything worked wonders. This is a shot of us wrapping up the day, heading back into the beautiful Northern California hills. Rough winter we're having!
We've been reading a good deal of these things (travel blogs, that is) recently, and many of them start with an equipment list or similar such thing. I don't know if I will get around to cataloging the contents of my pack, but perhaps the contents of my mind will be fair game.
The last few available weekends we have spent gathering gear, storing our "real" lives away, and trying not to get too carried away. Got most of our first aid kit together today, as well as our preliminary probiotics (see a future entry) and camera case.
None of those things are very interesting to photograph, though... So, for Amberly's birthday, we went to Muir Beach to "test" some of the equipment for the trip, like the boots, the camera, and our high-tech moisture-wicking tops. We took a couple hour hike on the coastal trail and then returned to the beach to cool our heels in the Pacific. Everything worked wonders. This is a shot of us wrapping up the day, heading back into the beautiful Northern California hills. Rough winter we're having!
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