It is Christmas Day and I am at Amma's ashram somewhere in the backwaters of Kerala. There are thousands of devotees, both western and Indian, here to celebrate the holiday in Amma's presence. I have witnessed Amma hug hundreds of people since the time I arrived yesterday at 11 am until 2:00 a.m., when I finally ceased witnessing the spectacle all around me in the giant auditorium. Last night, there was chanting and dancing from numerous devotees around the world. They even sang silent night. Kinda like an open mike. Amma was there at the center stage radiating love and light and I STILL couldn't believe that not even once did she get up to use the toilet or eat. She's back at it again today. I went for a two hour nap.
If I have to be anywhere that is not home for Christmas, I am quite happy to be in a place where everyone gathers freely and believes that this woman is capable of chanelling love directly from "the divine source." I like it b/c this is really what the Christmas spirit should be - celebration of life, love, differences and faith in healing, kindness and service.
So, a brief blog just to say happy holidays one and all. I hope your year is filled with love.
I waited three hours yesterday for my hug and she smelled good and felt soft. That's really all I can say. No miracle occurred, but everyone is here for love. Isn't that nice? I have one more hug tonight then head off for Tiruvanumali tomorrow to circumnavigate Mt. Arunchala before Pondicherry's Int'l Yoga Festival. I then may head up near Varanasi to hear the Dalai Lama discuss compassion before heading back to Bombay, Bangkok for five days, then home.
I look very forward to the next phase of my life. I miss CA and my people. At the present moment, however, I thank the universe that I have such an incredible, lucky, open life. The kind of life where I can pop into the ashram of a "living saint" for christmas just to get some love not just from the saint, but from the thousands of pilgrims that are here to celebrate exactly the same thing: love. What a life!
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Indian Switcheroo
As soon as I finished the blog and the rain subsided, Valerie and I walked out of the bungalow for a walk along the cliffs . We wanted a delicious thali (all you can eat many dishes meal on one platter) and I was still depressed.
A man was just sitting there and asked "are you going to the elephant festival?" to which I responded "WHAT elephant festival?" When he replied there were 21 painted elephants gathering in the afternoon for a festival 30 minutes away, I was pleased as punch. You know how much I love elephants! Then, he said the price which was too much and we started to walk away. He asked if we'd been to Varkala town yet. No. He said he was taking his friend's mother to the doctor in town in his rickshaw and if we wanted he'd take us into town for free for a delicious thali. Val heard "for free" and I heard "delicious thali" and we were in!
The thali was fantastic, Varkala town interesting and full of kind people who smiled again. We went to an ashram and circumnavigated the tomb and felt very peaceful. Then we saw 21 elephants resplendent in gold and taller than ta ta trucks parading along the street. On the way back, we stopped at a temple and two teenage boys gave me two flowers. People smiled and waved as we drove along and suddenly, the magic of India reappeared.
Is it the energy of just Val and I? I think so. When we're with others, everything shifts. We realized this quickly as we headed for the beach and ran into the three kiwis again. Suddenly, everything felt different. Our driver parted from us and a weight reappeared. The sunset was spectacular on the arabian sea as hundreds of little fish skipped in little black schools along the crest of the waves. The muslim fisherman went out just after the call to prayer and within moments, an entire city of a thousand twinkling fishing lights adorned the water. "I love India," I sighed as I raised my sarong skirt and felt the waves splash up onto my thighs. Voila!
We decided we'll stick together unless someone with something to contribute comes along. The kiwis contributed plenty, but a different energy that made things heavier, somehow. Valerie is a lovely woman. She studied for one year with a shaman in Peru and is an ayahuascera/medicine woman who lived in the deep, deep amazon in extraoridnarily primitive conditions. She's tough and spiritual, yet refined. She also happens to be a former fashion model who retired at 30 after an extraordinarily successful career. So, she contributes a bit of fashion to my walk, i.e. she plucked my eyebrows, and I contribute a bit of easy going chit chat with people to hers. We're a great combo and I love her like a sister. We are on the same level. And this is why we flow with India. Even when it sucks, India comes back and surprises us. We're lucky to be here. Lucky to have eachother. And just plain lucky to have both left our western lives for the quest of spiritual awareness and just plain dirty living. Hurray!
So, the avarice we're experiencing. I do believe it's a ripple of the tsunami caused by the financial crisis of the world. Clearly. Wherever we are, whatever we do, we can't escape that people's lives are changing and grasping seems more of a constant in an otherwise tepid realm of consmerism. I'm guessing anyway.So, it seems that just when I despair about India, India regifts me with love and sweetness and 21 elephants with wet snotty trunks that hold my hand as I walk along the row to greet them. I was the first tourist to do this and quickly noticed another ripple -- other tourists shaking hand/trunks with the elephants and beaming with joy. India's not so bad.
A man was just sitting there and asked "are you going to the elephant festival?" to which I responded "WHAT elephant festival?" When he replied there were 21 painted elephants gathering in the afternoon for a festival 30 minutes away, I was pleased as punch. You know how much I love elephants! Then, he said the price which was too much and we started to walk away. He asked if we'd been to Varkala town yet. No. He said he was taking his friend's mother to the doctor in town in his rickshaw and if we wanted he'd take us into town for free for a delicious thali. Val heard "for free" and I heard "delicious thali" and we were in!
The thali was fantastic, Varkala town interesting and full of kind people who smiled again. We went to an ashram and circumnavigated the tomb and felt very peaceful. Then we saw 21 elephants resplendent in gold and taller than ta ta trucks parading along the street. On the way back, we stopped at a temple and two teenage boys gave me two flowers. People smiled and waved as we drove along and suddenly, the magic of India reappeared.
Is it the energy of just Val and I? I think so. When we're with others, everything shifts. We realized this quickly as we headed for the beach and ran into the three kiwis again. Suddenly, everything felt different. Our driver parted from us and a weight reappeared. The sunset was spectacular on the arabian sea as hundreds of little fish skipped in little black schools along the crest of the waves. The muslim fisherman went out just after the call to prayer and within moments, an entire city of a thousand twinkling fishing lights adorned the water. "I love India," I sighed as I raised my sarong skirt and felt the waves splash up onto my thighs. Voila!
We decided we'll stick together unless someone with something to contribute comes along. The kiwis contributed plenty, but a different energy that made things heavier, somehow. Valerie is a lovely woman. She studied for one year with a shaman in Peru and is an ayahuascera/medicine woman who lived in the deep, deep amazon in extraoridnarily primitive conditions. She's tough and spiritual, yet refined. She also happens to be a former fashion model who retired at 30 after an extraordinarily successful career. So, she contributes a bit of fashion to my walk, i.e. she plucked my eyebrows, and I contribute a bit of easy going chit chat with people to hers. We're a great combo and I love her like a sister. We are on the same level. And this is why we flow with India. Even when it sucks, India comes back and surprises us. We're lucky to be here. Lucky to have eachother. And just plain lucky to have both left our western lives for the quest of spiritual awareness and just plain dirty living. Hurray!
So, the avarice we're experiencing. I do believe it's a ripple of the tsunami caused by the financial crisis of the world. Clearly. Wherever we are, whatever we do, we can't escape that people's lives are changing and grasping seems more of a constant in an otherwise tepid realm of consmerism. I'm guessing anyway.So, it seems that just when I despair about India, India regifts me with love and sweetness and 21 elephants with wet snotty trunks that hold my hand as I walk along the row to greet them. I was the first tourist to do this and quickly noticed another ripple -- other tourists shaking hand/trunks with the elephants and beaming with joy. India's not so bad.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
India Meltdown
Last night I lost it. I just plain lost it. We met some people in Mysore and decided to take a car down to Varkala, Kerala with them over four days. That was fine and swell and we continued to spend a lot of time with these people. Val and I have a hotel that is on the south side of town. They on the North. Unfortunately, there are no cabs after eight and so I arranged ahead of time with one cabby to take us home in the evening. When I called him, he picked up and said "he is sleeping." Voila, that was it. No ride. Suddenly, this just tipped me over the scale. I became furious and had to storm away from my companions into the darkened streets to scramble up something because they were just standing there and I couldn't handle it anymore.
Naturally, losing one's temper and feeling like she's about to explode after such a trivial thing reeks of major mental problems. However, I reassure myself that it's simply an Indian meltdown of exhaustion and overtravelling. I have been on the road for nearly 11 months. It's all been beautiful as of Hampi.
Thereafter, things shifted. In Mysore, we stayed with a lovely lady named Alex that is staying in Ken's apartment and she was gracious enough to show us around. She's studying with Pattabhi Jois and we met many ashtangis in the scene there. I found it to be insulated and landlocked. I wanted to breathe my way out of Mysore. When we left with the three kiwis in a fancy car, it wasn't quite the way I wanted to travel India, but a quick option. We passed through a forest reserve and saw a momma and baby elephant. One of the men and I went to a seedy bar and I had a cocktail and everyone stared at me like I was a whore. It was very uncomfortable. Then we went for a walk through town and again there were no women on the street save me. I got lots of dirty looks from the men in town. Fortunately, one older man smiled at me and looked warmly into my eyes, bowing a namaste ji ( regards with high respect) and I felt recognized as worthy.
We carried onto a beach town outside of Kochi and were now in Kerala. It was a lovely beach decked with Indian families fully dressed wading in the water at sunset. We found a nice hotel that was overpriced, but clean. We went for chai and thus began the downsurge of hospitality that culminated in my breakdown last night. Whereas everything has always been "yes, madam" in India, here in Kerala, the predominant answer is "no." "Do you have chai/tea?" "No." "Okay, do you have coffee?" "No." Yet everyone around us is drinking little cups of hot beverages that look and smell exactly like coffee. They're all Indians. So, I walk away and try again later. "Chai available."
We drive down to beautiful Allepey - the venice of Kerala - with canals and palm trees and boats. Our driver rushes us straight to his "cousin" who has a houseboat and tells us we "must decide immediately" if we'll take his houseboat for 12,000 rupees for one night. We decline and look at others. He follows me and harrangues me further about the decision. In the meantime, our driver asks me to give him money for his dinner when the rules are clear that he is responsible for himself. We've been fighting with him about tolls and parking the entire way - he ignores the rules that he pays and it's frustrating every time.
I see several other houseboats and the price goes down to only 7,000 rupees. We select a boat. It's beautiful and comfortable. The food is subpar. We drive only a little bit and dock. Boats swarm up offering items for sale - shrimp, coffee, tea, incense, whatever. They are unrelenting. We go up a little further and Damien, one of the men, goes for a swim in the morning among feces and dead bloated cormorants. I choose not to swim although the heat is sweltering. The prior night, it took us three hours to get the drunk captain to give us some peace and quiet out of his company. The next morning, they ask us for a tip and we decline. Our car driver gets wind of this and is furious as he drives like a bat out of hell down the road. We tell him to slow down and he ignores us. I tell him I have to go to the toilet and he ignores me. I finally lean over and yell in his ear, "Stop! Stop! Stop!" before he slams on the brakes and out we go. We assume he's changed into such a state b/c he fears he won't get a tip. Little did he know that we'd already gathered 500 rupees for a tip for him that morning. We get to our destination and he tells us we have to pay 350 rupees extra for going on a detour. We call the office that arranged it and he says we only owe 200 rupees extra.
We give John is 500 rupee tip even though he's morphed into a demon and he seems genuinely relieved and satisfied. Then we come to our hotel and the owner tells us that we have to pay for an extra night b/c we arrived one day later than planned. He confirms, however, that he received our email advising him of this. He says he saved the room for us. I comment on the large number of vacancies in the hotel and he says "as you wish, pay as you wish." He never welcomes us. He just wants money. I go to the other side of the cliffs, which is littered with shops and bungalows and restaurants and internet cafes. Everyone wants money. Everything is overpriced. There are few tourists present. Every single Indian laments the lack of tourists due to Bombay and the economy. If I don't buy something, they say "promise to come back" as they hold onto your wrist until you consent.
All of this...well, it just wears you down after a while. After three days, I finally lost it last night. I got home after telling off the taxi driver who kept insisting that Valerie give him her cell phone number b/c he's taking us home. There is no logic here. Just harassment. His exorbinant fare had already been paid and he was being awful. It took long enough to find him, so when he kept not listening to me about directions and stopping to ask every clueless Indian for directions, it boiled. When he kept harassing Valerie and asked another man for directions, I screamed at him "LISTEN TO ME!" to which he turned around and started yelling that I was crazy. I told him to fuck off and slammed the door. I stormed through the mangroves in the dark (I wasn't far frojm home) and thought about how dangerous this was without a flashlight. But, I was crazed. I lost it. I couldn't stand to be in the car anymore with this man - the representitive of all that had been passing for so many days...
I got home to the hotel where Valerie was in the bathroom, put my stuff down and walked out to the cliffs where I cried and sobbed and howled with I don't know what for a good 40 minutes. I thought that I wanted to go home, I was tired of travelling, I was tired of people saying no all the time, tired of everyone thinking I'm a walking bank, or a whore, or whatever....just tired. In the morning, I did yoga for two hours and I promised myself that today would be one of calm, compassion, nonjudgment, reflections, forgiveness, love and tolerance. I feel bad about my behavior and at the same time see very clearly that a time comes when you're just full. Full of travelling. Perhaps, full of India. Someone once told me that India spews you out when it's time for you to go. That's how I feel. Like spew.
Today is a better day. It's gorgeous and I'll spend it at the beach. Meditating, reading and writing other more private details into my journal (which is nearly full, as well). What sounds good to me? Going to Amma's ashram to see what it's all about. Going to a spa outside Bombay. Seeing my Bollywood friend. Flying to Thailand for NYE on the island. Then, maybe just relaxing there in a place I know and love. A place that is calm and doesn't castigate me. I've had nothing but an amazing experience in India and it has been nurturing and inspriring...until Kerala. There is something about Kerala and the people of Kerala that just isn't working. Period. Okay, I submit. I still LOVE India. But, it's time for a shift.
Back home, friends are losing their jobs and getting married. Much has happened as I'm gone and I wonder what is available, who is available, what will I do? I don't know. But, I know it is home and they are my friends and family. It's reassuring and exciting to consider how different yet the same the world back home will be. It's been 11 months. Wow. And so the journey continues...
Naturally, losing one's temper and feeling like she's about to explode after such a trivial thing reeks of major mental problems. However, I reassure myself that it's simply an Indian meltdown of exhaustion and overtravelling. I have been on the road for nearly 11 months. It's all been beautiful as of Hampi.
Thereafter, things shifted. In Mysore, we stayed with a lovely lady named Alex that is staying in Ken's apartment and she was gracious enough to show us around. She's studying with Pattabhi Jois and we met many ashtangis in the scene there. I found it to be insulated and landlocked. I wanted to breathe my way out of Mysore. When we left with the three kiwis in a fancy car, it wasn't quite the way I wanted to travel India, but a quick option. We passed through a forest reserve and saw a momma and baby elephant. One of the men and I went to a seedy bar and I had a cocktail and everyone stared at me like I was a whore. It was very uncomfortable. Then we went for a walk through town and again there were no women on the street save me. I got lots of dirty looks from the men in town. Fortunately, one older man smiled at me and looked warmly into my eyes, bowing a namaste ji ( regards with high respect) and I felt recognized as worthy.
We carried onto a beach town outside of Kochi and were now in Kerala. It was a lovely beach decked with Indian families fully dressed wading in the water at sunset. We found a nice hotel that was overpriced, but clean. We went for chai and thus began the downsurge of hospitality that culminated in my breakdown last night. Whereas everything has always been "yes, madam" in India, here in Kerala, the predominant answer is "no." "Do you have chai/tea?" "No." "Okay, do you have coffee?" "No." Yet everyone around us is drinking little cups of hot beverages that look and smell exactly like coffee. They're all Indians. So, I walk away and try again later. "Chai available."
We drive down to beautiful Allepey - the venice of Kerala - with canals and palm trees and boats. Our driver rushes us straight to his "cousin" who has a houseboat and tells us we "must decide immediately" if we'll take his houseboat for 12,000 rupees for one night. We decline and look at others. He follows me and harrangues me further about the decision. In the meantime, our driver asks me to give him money for his dinner when the rules are clear that he is responsible for himself. We've been fighting with him about tolls and parking the entire way - he ignores the rules that he pays and it's frustrating every time.
I see several other houseboats and the price goes down to only 7,000 rupees. We select a boat. It's beautiful and comfortable. The food is subpar. We drive only a little bit and dock. Boats swarm up offering items for sale - shrimp, coffee, tea, incense, whatever. They are unrelenting. We go up a little further and Damien, one of the men, goes for a swim in the morning among feces and dead bloated cormorants. I choose not to swim although the heat is sweltering. The prior night, it took us three hours to get the drunk captain to give us some peace and quiet out of his company. The next morning, they ask us for a tip and we decline. Our car driver gets wind of this and is furious as he drives like a bat out of hell down the road. We tell him to slow down and he ignores us. I tell him I have to go to the toilet and he ignores me. I finally lean over and yell in his ear, "Stop! Stop! Stop!" before he slams on the brakes and out we go. We assume he's changed into such a state b/c he fears he won't get a tip. Little did he know that we'd already gathered 500 rupees for a tip for him that morning. We get to our destination and he tells us we have to pay 350 rupees extra for going on a detour. We call the office that arranged it and he says we only owe 200 rupees extra.
We give John is 500 rupee tip even though he's morphed into a demon and he seems genuinely relieved and satisfied. Then we come to our hotel and the owner tells us that we have to pay for an extra night b/c we arrived one day later than planned. He confirms, however, that he received our email advising him of this. He says he saved the room for us. I comment on the large number of vacancies in the hotel and he says "as you wish, pay as you wish." He never welcomes us. He just wants money. I go to the other side of the cliffs, which is littered with shops and bungalows and restaurants and internet cafes. Everyone wants money. Everything is overpriced. There are few tourists present. Every single Indian laments the lack of tourists due to Bombay and the economy. If I don't buy something, they say "promise to come back" as they hold onto your wrist until you consent.
All of this...well, it just wears you down after a while. After three days, I finally lost it last night. I got home after telling off the taxi driver who kept insisting that Valerie give him her cell phone number b/c he's taking us home. There is no logic here. Just harassment. His exorbinant fare had already been paid and he was being awful. It took long enough to find him, so when he kept not listening to me about directions and stopping to ask every clueless Indian for directions, it boiled. When he kept harassing Valerie and asked another man for directions, I screamed at him "LISTEN TO ME!" to which he turned around and started yelling that I was crazy. I told him to fuck off and slammed the door. I stormed through the mangroves in the dark (I wasn't far frojm home) and thought about how dangerous this was without a flashlight. But, I was crazed. I lost it. I couldn't stand to be in the car anymore with this man - the representitive of all that had been passing for so many days...
I got home to the hotel where Valerie was in the bathroom, put my stuff down and walked out to the cliffs where I cried and sobbed and howled with I don't know what for a good 40 minutes. I thought that I wanted to go home, I was tired of travelling, I was tired of people saying no all the time, tired of everyone thinking I'm a walking bank, or a whore, or whatever....just tired. In the morning, I did yoga for two hours and I promised myself that today would be one of calm, compassion, nonjudgment, reflections, forgiveness, love and tolerance. I feel bad about my behavior and at the same time see very clearly that a time comes when you're just full. Full of travelling. Perhaps, full of India. Someone once told me that India spews you out when it's time for you to go. That's how I feel. Like spew.
Today is a better day. It's gorgeous and I'll spend it at the beach. Meditating, reading and writing other more private details into my journal (which is nearly full, as well). What sounds good to me? Going to Amma's ashram to see what it's all about. Going to a spa outside Bombay. Seeing my Bollywood friend. Flying to Thailand for NYE on the island. Then, maybe just relaxing there in a place I know and love. A place that is calm and doesn't castigate me. I've had nothing but an amazing experience in India and it has been nurturing and inspriring...until Kerala. There is something about Kerala and the people of Kerala that just isn't working. Period. Okay, I submit. I still LOVE India. But, it's time for a shift.
Back home, friends are losing their jobs and getting married. Much has happened as I'm gone and I wonder what is available, who is available, what will I do? I don't know. But, I know it is home and they are my friends and family. It's reassuring and exciting to consider how different yet the same the world back home will be. It's been 11 months. Wow. And so the journey continues...
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Hampi is the land of chill. We arrived to a crazed bus station and negotiated the price of hindu deity stickers with wide brown eyed boys in long sleeved shirts. In India, it~s like you~re dropped into a swirling teacup and you~re just trying to either go with the flow or get to the side as quickly as possible. That~s what I most admire about India..the just go with the flow. Finally, one of us negotiated a rickshaw price outside in the rain and we tumbled into Hampi.
Villages built under giant boulders lined the narrow laned streets and children peeked from around the corners of granite to smile a ^namaste.~ We crossed the river on a boat and slushed through the mud to reach the other side, as recommended by several people.
What happened thereafter was pure magic...tbc...
Villages built under giant boulders lined the narrow laned streets and children peeked from around the corners of granite to smile a ^namaste.~ We crossed the river on a boat and slushed through the mud to reach the other side, as recommended by several people.
What happened thereafter was pure magic...tbc...
Friday, November 28, 2008
The Circle Rotates Again...
I left Goa one day after Thanksgiving and the bombing/massacres in Bombay. It was time to make a shift. Goa is very comfy and very fun. But, it's also very western. It's not why I came to India. I have been eager to teach yoga, but the sala is still not built where I live. And things became strained and irritating on the home front, anyway. It was time to shift...
After the Five Rhythms class on Tuesday night, I drove home to a rat filled bungalow at 11 p.m. I moved all my stuff to the nicer bungalow that is made of cement. Sunny (my Ladakhi friend and the manager) then told me we needed to discuss what I thought was fair to settle my account before we moved into December (high tourist season). I was shocked b/c I thought I was staying for free. This was because Praful (my other Ladaki friend and another manager) told me on several occassions that I would be their guest and their yoga teacher. This was the reason I came to Goa on such a tight budget - b/c accomodation was offered to me in person and again via e-mail. I also confirmed with him in person when we were in Goa that I would not pay. Unfortunately, this was not conveyed to Sunny. Because Praful is now in Leh, Sunny and I had the difficult task of negotiating what I should pay for accomodation six weeks after I first moved in. When I called Praful and asked what was going on, he said "yes, it's free in exchange for you teaching yoga, but you haven't taught yet." There was no point in pointing out that they hadn't yet built the sala. I paid my maintenance fee (still below the standard hotel rate of Goa) and tried not to feel offended or angry with Praful. And I decided it was time to move elsewhere.
I then went to yoga practice and Ken told me that we should put off the first of our second series of rolfing sessions for a day. I suggested that he instead wait for me to return from Hampi and he agreed. There was something inside me that didn't know if I was really ready to commit to more rolfing sessions b/c I was feeling the desire to leave Goa. I had already decided with Jo (the five rhythms MC), Ash (a yoga teacher living in Goa whom I'd met previously in Koh Phangan), and Valerie to go to Hampi for a few days to check it out. As Hampi is 12 hours away, returning to Goa was a possibility, but then there was the rest of India...
Ken mentioned something about my commitment to myself to study ashtanga for 30 days. I momentarily felt guilty, felt just fine trusting to keep that commitment to myself even though his adjustments are great for my practice. No problem. When he left class early and told me that he would be late to class the next morning, it confirmed that this was a good time for a shift.
I went to lunch with Valerie in Anjuna and we decided it was just plain time to leave Goa. We both came here to experience India and had been in Goa for six weeks already. Why not continue south from Hampi? So, I packed up everything and here I am...in Hampi. All of my bags are with me and I'm ready to continue.
My last night, Val, Ken, Dylan and Dylan's friend came over for a visit. The boys were supposed to have their opening night party - it didn't happen except for our little group. It was a fun evening and Dylan was particularly sweet to me. The next morning, Dylan, Val and I met my friend from Chakra Yoga school, Erin, for breakfast. We headed to the beach next door - Aswem - to find a famed 'teepee village' where hippies go to live for free. We found the village and Val spoke with the beautiful owner Rani b/c they both studied shamanism in Peru. We were welcomed to the community instantly and wiled the day away in the teepee village. I met a Scottish man who owned the campground that I stayed at in Arusha, Tanzania 15 years ago. Rani was also there - "no wonder you look familiar," she said. Small world. Dylan and I went for a swim in the very playful waves and came back for homecooked beans and veggies with tea. It was a delicious thanksgiving meal of homecooked food in a kind and worldly community. Who knew? I came home that night and packed up my goods, went to a party of a man in the dancing workshop and said goodbye to the vibrant yogi community here in Goa.
Now, I am here. Right back in India. The touts were on the train practically before it stopped and they swarmed around me as I tried not to walk through murky puddles with my open toed shoes in the pouring rain. The children and men stared and chaos reigned on the streets with more cows and saris and horns...right back in to India. I just ran into an israeli guy who rented a tractor with us in Nepal to get the bikes across the washed out roads. Small world again.
I have written to friends and family letting them know I'm not suffering from anyting Bombay related. I send love to those affected by such atrocities. Some things just can't be understood. India continues to blow me away every day. I'm exhausted now - tomorrow, I'll step into the place of over 1,000 temples (many to Hanuman, the monkey god). Legend has it that Hanuman picked up and personally transported the top of an entire mountain in order to provide Laxman (Ram's brother) with the right medicine to save his life from a war wound. An entire mountain top for one plant because he didn't know which was the right medicine...this one has always irked me as a bit excessive...perhaps, I'll finally get it now that I've returned to Hanuman land, i.e. Hampi. The lessons of India continue...
After the Five Rhythms class on Tuesday night, I drove home to a rat filled bungalow at 11 p.m. I moved all my stuff to the nicer bungalow that is made of cement. Sunny (my Ladakhi friend and the manager) then told me we needed to discuss what I thought was fair to settle my account before we moved into December (high tourist season). I was shocked b/c I thought I was staying for free. This was because Praful (my other Ladaki friend and another manager) told me on several occassions that I would be their guest and their yoga teacher. This was the reason I came to Goa on such a tight budget - b/c accomodation was offered to me in person and again via e-mail. I also confirmed with him in person when we were in Goa that I would not pay. Unfortunately, this was not conveyed to Sunny. Because Praful is now in Leh, Sunny and I had the difficult task of negotiating what I should pay for accomodation six weeks after I first moved in. When I called Praful and asked what was going on, he said "yes, it's free in exchange for you teaching yoga, but you haven't taught yet." There was no point in pointing out that they hadn't yet built the sala. I paid my maintenance fee (still below the standard hotel rate of Goa) and tried not to feel offended or angry with Praful. And I decided it was time to move elsewhere.
I then went to yoga practice and Ken told me that we should put off the first of our second series of rolfing sessions for a day. I suggested that he instead wait for me to return from Hampi and he agreed. There was something inside me that didn't know if I was really ready to commit to more rolfing sessions b/c I was feeling the desire to leave Goa. I had already decided with Jo (the five rhythms MC), Ash (a yoga teacher living in Goa whom I'd met previously in Koh Phangan), and Valerie to go to Hampi for a few days to check it out. As Hampi is 12 hours away, returning to Goa was a possibility, but then there was the rest of India...
Ken mentioned something about my commitment to myself to study ashtanga for 30 days. I momentarily felt guilty, felt just fine trusting to keep that commitment to myself even though his adjustments are great for my practice. No problem. When he left class early and told me that he would be late to class the next morning, it confirmed that this was a good time for a shift.
I went to lunch with Valerie in Anjuna and we decided it was just plain time to leave Goa. We both came here to experience India and had been in Goa for six weeks already. Why not continue south from Hampi? So, I packed up everything and here I am...in Hampi. All of my bags are with me and I'm ready to continue.
My last night, Val, Ken, Dylan and Dylan's friend came over for a visit. The boys were supposed to have their opening night party - it didn't happen except for our little group. It was a fun evening and Dylan was particularly sweet to me. The next morning, Dylan, Val and I met my friend from Chakra Yoga school, Erin, for breakfast. We headed to the beach next door - Aswem - to find a famed 'teepee village' where hippies go to live for free. We found the village and Val spoke with the beautiful owner Rani b/c they both studied shamanism in Peru. We were welcomed to the community instantly and wiled the day away in the teepee village. I met a Scottish man who owned the campground that I stayed at in Arusha, Tanzania 15 years ago. Rani was also there - "no wonder you look familiar," she said. Small world. Dylan and I went for a swim in the very playful waves and came back for homecooked beans and veggies with tea. It was a delicious thanksgiving meal of homecooked food in a kind and worldly community. Who knew? I came home that night and packed up my goods, went to a party of a man in the dancing workshop and said goodbye to the vibrant yogi community here in Goa.
Now, I am here. Right back in India. The touts were on the train practically before it stopped and they swarmed around me as I tried not to walk through murky puddles with my open toed shoes in the pouring rain. The children and men stared and chaos reigned on the streets with more cows and saris and horns...right back in to India. I just ran into an israeli guy who rented a tractor with us in Nepal to get the bikes across the washed out roads. Small world again.
I have written to friends and family letting them know I'm not suffering from anyting Bombay related. I send love to those affected by such atrocities. Some things just can't be understood. India continues to blow me away every day. I'm exhausted now - tomorrow, I'll step into the place of over 1,000 temples (many to Hanuman, the monkey god). Legend has it that Hanuman picked up and personally transported the top of an entire mountain in order to provide Laxman (Ram's brother) with the right medicine to save his life from a war wound. An entire mountain top for one plant because he didn't know which was the right medicine...this one has always irked me as a bit excessive...perhaps, I'll finally get it now that I've returned to Hanuman land, i.e. Hampi. The lessons of India continue...
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Blown Doors
One month since the last post. I've finished the teacher training course. It became progressively easier physically and progressively more difficult emotionally. I learned how to be more compassionate instead of judgmental with people and situations that I had no choice but to bear. The whole experience was positive - there were very good people - and not exactly the spiritual India retreat I had hoped for. Instead it was a practical, very effective means of teaching ashtanga yoga. I look forward to incorporating ashtanga into my bhakti chakra vinyasa classes (I haven't come up with a name yet, but no matter, b/c the yoga sala is not yet built where I am). The practice of ashtanga is rigorous and physical and rigid. It's a good balance with my windy ways of living. Grounding.
In the retreat, I received the base return to asana practice as well as a view to emotional blockages. I am very good at closing doors on people. In any situation. I enjoy them, even love them...but usually from a distance. There's something that keeps me from crossing an emotional portal with people and truly being close. Surrender on my own I can do. But with another...well, for that I believe I've found the right teacher. His name is Ken. He was the anatomy teacher for our teacher training course and an ashtanga teacher and a rolfer. I knew right away that this almost 50 year old man who looks like he's in his late 30s had something to offer to me.
First of all, I did three rolfing sessions with Ken. What is rolfing? In short - it's a release of emotional and physical blockages through intense "massage," ie. elbows and knuckles in deep places while I kinetically "meet him" by moving various opposing limbs. The result is a genuine release of stress and pain and elongation of limbs, light and space within my body and mind. As we go through each session, I learn a little bit about my attitude towards my body and life and see and experience an alternative way to exist that rather flows than opposes what's happening around me. For instance, in the first session, he touched upon a knot in my shoulder and I said "ah yes, that's it, let's GET RID of it!" and he suggested "how about you slide under it instead of attacking it?" So, I breathed under the knot as he suggested - the knot dissolved a bit in that instant. The next day, my shoulder and neck kept popping and cracking as it continued to dissolve years and years of stress from litigation and law school and desk jobs, etc. In that session, I kept asking him if it was supposed to feel like this, or if this was the right way, etc. Every time, he'd say "how does it feel for you?" and "you tell me if this feels like the right way." I realized that my whole life has been spent asking others how and why and where instead of just going into my own mind and body and FEELING. Gee, what do I want? What do I feel? It's not so much about what everyone else wants or thinks or does. Just me. Simple, I know. But with that interchange, it became abundantly clear to me that I'd never truly felt into me - I've measured my entire life with what others may want or expect. The exception of course has always come with travel. With travel, I've allowed myself to just go where I want and do what I want. But in REAL life, no. My only escape to not caring about others was with mind numbing substances in which I was detached and closed from myself and others in a bubble of inebriation. I was very grateful to not only hear this, but to EXPERIENCE this lesson in my body. I'll never forget this again.
The next session, I was supposed to ground into my feet while he did some work on my spine. I kept losing my footing while concentrating on what was happening at the top of my body. He reminded me again and again to find my footing. I realized that often in my yoga practice, as well as in my life, I rarely remain grounded or aware of my surroundings. I've since focused on my grounding in practice and life. I actually take the time to imagine what my footprints must look like on the sand as I walk b/c I can finally tune into their shape and understand the way I've carried myself through life. What a gift to have the time and insight to do this. I am becoming more grounded. From a solid foundation, life is much more relaxing. I also asked during the session, whether I should ground into my feet to resist the pressure he was applying. He asked "can you just meet me instead." Voila - in a nutshell. Meet, not resist. Meet, not resist. What a concept.
The last session was the most painful. He returned to the knot on my shoulder; the one that I would often hold in agony as it scrunched even tighter with the stress and anxiety of billing every six minutes of every day to my litigation practice. I breathed through it instead of tensing up, per his suggestion. At the end, I was dizzy. He grounded me through a deep shoulder massage, but my head felt fuzzy. That night, I had a nightmare that we were in ashtanga class and he told me to find my footing in tadasana/mountain pose, i.e. essentially a standing pose with two feet on the ground and two arms at the side. Simple. In my dream, I couldn't find my balance and was wobbling everywhere. I woke up the next morning and felt mentally and physically unstable. I wobbled in even the easiest of balancing poses and fell out of a couple of the more challenging ones. I kept cursing Ken every time he told me to do another vinyasa (fluid push-up sequence) and gave him venemous looks throughout class when he wasn't looking. I was pissed off and angry the entire time. At the end, when we sit in a meditative pose with crossed legs and a mudra (hand position) that unites the individual with the universe symbolically, I couldn't stop the tears from falling down my face. The crying continued through sivasana (the final resting/corpse pose). When I got up, I went to the restroom to stop the crying. I came out and shakily asked Ken, "what the hell is happening to me?" "I feel undone." "I can't control my emotions. I'm so angry and venemous and all this ugliness just keeps coming out of me." "Is this what we released last night?" I already knew the answer. He asked if I had dark thoughts that he should be concerned about. "Of course not." He said as long as they come in waves, and not constantly, to just ride through them. "We released all those years of litigation, Kyra, it's gotta come out sometime." And here it was - a flood of venom. He asked if I was a control freak before and I conceded that I was. He told me that it's scary not to have control of the emotions and it can be terrifying, but it's good to go through them. He told me to call him if it got really bad. I thanked him and he kissed me on the forehead.
I walked down to the beautiful Mandrem beach and into the Arabian Sea. I thought of the woman in Chopin's 'The Awakening' who escaped her miserable caged-pampered wife victorian life by going into the water and not coming out. I laughed that my life was nowhere as tragic, miserable, caged or pampered and I was grateful for my freedom, the wealth of my emotional range and the freedom to just FEEL and release all of this yucky stuff caged up inside me. So, I swam, I cried and I floated in the midst of it all. My venom drained into the Arabian Sea and the Arabian Sea cradled and rocked me like a baby as I released. I came out sunburned and exhausted and went home to sleep for two hours.
I met my friend Erin (from Thailand) for lunch and she told me my eyes looked more clear than they ever had. She said I was glowing. Indeed, I felt exhausted, but like I had loofa'ed (sp?) major emotional baggage away. The next day, I showed up at class much more myself, but lighter than I had been not only the day before, but in the last six years. This lesson - don't compress. Release. Merge with the pain. Let it flow. It's okay. Nothing will kill you, it will just make it better.
As a further result of rolfing , my ashtanga practice is more fluid. I study with Ken every weekday in a mysore style class. He is one of only 400 authorized Pathabi Jois instructors in the world, so to have him as a teacher and a rolfer is very auspicious for my development in yoga, indeed. He knows my body - he knows my range - and he helps lead me deeper into poses through expert adjustments. His knowledge of anatomy assures me that I can trust him to only take me as far as is healthy for me. And I'm going deeper than I ever have before.
I must admit that there's a confused element of me that isn't sure what to make of Ken. Marie Helene was convinced that he was the perfect man for me. I didn't see him like this - I told her I saw him as a teacher. He does look very similar in face to my ex boyfriend Lance and that does slay my heart anew if I think about it. But, he's a different man. But, what does a woman do when she meets a man with whom she can trust and surrender? And when she does, this man patiently and gently opens her up, helps her face her fears, helps her find peace within, helps her be a better person, a lighter being, just plain more open??? This sounds like the openings that love brings you - a partner with whom you can be a better person. Right? I have a high, very high regard for Ken, but I love and respect him as a teacher. I think he's amazing and I genuinely believe that when you are ready, the teacher will appear. He's that. In some ways, I think he's helping to develop me to be open enought and in love enough with myself to be READY when the right man for me appears. Right now, it's all about me. It's not about a man, any man. This is me. And Ken is sooooo helpful in helping me meet and love that person. I am very grateful for him. Thank you, Ken the rolfer.
As a further opening, I finally did something I always wanted to do. I pierced my nose. It didn't even hurt! I looked away and thought of ice cream and rainbows as the Italian lady pierced my nose with a needle and voila, finished! I loved the way it looked. Upon looking in the mirror, I jumped up and down and squeaed "I did it, I did it, I did it!" My friend Val, who was with me, just stood by and smiled at my childish excitement. I love having a pierced nose. On the way home, I noticed several people looking at me. I thought it must be b/c of my beautiful nose ring. I later realized that my turn signal was on the whole time. My sweet soul buddy Marie Helene is usually on the back of my bike and tells me to turn it off when I forgot. Because she returned to Kuwait (weep!), I no longer have that reminder.
A word on Marie Helene - she is truly a wonderful, generous person. She will be my friend for life. We connected instantly and had it not been for her and her brilliant wit and sense of humor, the month during the yoga course wouldn't have been nearly as enjoyable. With her, every day was great. I befriended her b/c she was a miserable virgo who wouldn't eat anything but biscuits out of plastic wrappers. She was appalled and disgusted by the dirt and grime of India. She had just spent eight years living in Dubai where everything is immaculate, air conditioned and enclosed. Her courage in even coming to India is remarkable! So, I told her, "look, tomorrow I'm renting a motorbike, we're going out for lunch and I guarantee you'll finish the day in love with India." So we went. We went to a semi-nice outdoor restaurant where you could see the tandoori chef preparing the food and she ate real food. Hurray! We talked and talked and talked so much (for three hours straight) so that when she checked her watch, we'd already missed one hour of class! We started to drive home when the only torrential downpour since I've been here occurred. We were sopping wet. We got to class and everyone moved into the restaurant b/c it was covered (our yoga sala had no walls and was soaking). This would've been fine, except for the fact that the floor was thick dirt. For the last 15 minutes of the class we barely made it to, we were doing upward dogs, pushups and downward dogs with soaking wet clothes that grew increasingly muddier with each vinyasa. At one point, she looked at me dirty, muddy and with her wild blonde curls splayed on her wet face and we started cracking up. Indeed, she fell in love with India that day. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. The next lunch, I took her nearby to a thali joint that was the dirtiest one I could find. But, the food was deliciuos and she ate it. After getting dirty and eating dirty, she no longer had hesitations with all things India. She blossomed and opened and laughed a lot. I admire her courage, her humor, her openness and her bravery. A brilliant soul! On her last day, she reflected with a smile "I'm surprised at how much I love India. Markus (her husband) will be shocked. I want to come back here." Another convert. Another beautiful being on the path. I love you Marie Helene.
A few days ago, after Marie Helene left, I had a dinner party when the restaurant opened and several people showed up - a motley cast of characters that I've had the good fortune of meeting. Freeman from junior high; Valerie - an ex fashion model who retired at 30 and spent a year in the jungle studying herb derived medicines from shamans and is now travelling through India; Robert - Val's friend from Ireland who is on a spiritual quest and sang Irish songs through the evening; Shantam and Niko - two hippys in their 50s who play flute and a slough of instruments and Niko's demure and quiet Japanese girlfriend Gone; Ken; Dylan- a devilishly handsome and flirty ashtanga teacher who has travelled the world and taught yoga for years and years and years and rapped some of his original scripts; a wild Frenchwoman and her English lover who I met earlier in a cafe and b/c they kept staring at me smiling, I just invited them - and they came - and she sang in a beautiful french voice. The food was delicious as we reclined on pillows looking over the lake and up to the stars. The guests were entertaining and amused and everyone had a lovely, lovely evening. I kept pinching myself that this was my dinner party. What a life!
I just took a weekend dance workshop called the Five Rhythms where you dance for hours and release emotional stuff. It's a new agey thing prevalent in the SF North Bay that I've always been skeptical about. So, of course I decided to go, since the emcee was a famous lady from LA. The workshop was great. A lot of stuff came up about me closing my eyes or not making eye contact with people while dancing. Again, I was reminded about how I'm out there in the public, but always maintain somewhat of a distance from most people. Why? I don't know. But, I allowed myself to make eye contact, dance with people, and have a good time. I wasn't high and my eyes weren't closed. For the first time in my life, I felt the ripple of music undulate through my body as I danced in community with other people and I loved it! I took the emcee to a nearby town to go to the market and we got lost on the way back. The ten minue drive took 1.5 hours as we toured throught the lovely Goan countryside. We had a great time and made it in time for class. She let me stay in her hotel room b/c I didn't have the exorbinant amount of money to pay for my own room. She is full of vitality and I'd recommend her course to anyone. We may take a tour of Hampi together before she leaves India. Time will tell....
My bollywood actor friend who I met while dancing around in the sand dunes with gypsies in Northern Rajastan came around for a visit. Asif Basra is on his way to a film release and unfortunately I can't go with him, but it was lovely to see him. He'll be returning with his friends to Goa and I sincerely hope that he'll choose to stay again with my friends at Whispering Lakes Resort. He has an idea of a television show where he travels the backwoods of India on a cultural tour. He invited me to be a guest on one of his shows and we discussed that I can also be his personal yoga trainer if I live in Bombay and he can refer me to other people. After some photos, he asked if I was interested in acting....Time will tell...
So, I call this posting blown doors b/c while I've been in Goa, so many barricades have been eroded or dissolved or simply blown away by a lovely light energy that makes life...easier. And it's not always easy. For instance, I am being terrorized by a rat who is becoming more territorial of our shared bungalow that he actually ran across my arm from the other side of my mosquito net at 3 in the morning! He eats my soap, knocks over all my toiletries from my bathroom shelves and spills my coconut hair oil all over the floor just to take a sip. He has broken into my bungalow through his own doors in the roof and the floors and I can't even have a standing glass of water without him getting into it. Sunni promises that he'll set a trap today and I genuinely want the vermin dead! He's gone waaaaay to far this time. He's huge and not at all cute and he simply won't. let. me. sleep. Ah, India!
But, it's all worth while. I still don't know what I'll do when I get home or if I'll even stay, but Alex's words "India will take care of you and then you'll take care of India" stay with me. India has taken beautiful care of me. I love this place. I will stay as long as I can - until my visa expires on Jan. 17 - and continue to meet and merge and surrender and open. Thank you, India. The boys say the yoga sala will commence building in a couple of days. I am looking very forward to teaching classes in such a lovely place and finally giving back even an iota of what India has given me to others.
In the retreat, I received the base return to asana practice as well as a view to emotional blockages. I am very good at closing doors on people. In any situation. I enjoy them, even love them...but usually from a distance. There's something that keeps me from crossing an emotional portal with people and truly being close. Surrender on my own I can do. But with another...well, for that I believe I've found the right teacher. His name is Ken. He was the anatomy teacher for our teacher training course and an ashtanga teacher and a rolfer. I knew right away that this almost 50 year old man who looks like he's in his late 30s had something to offer to me.
First of all, I did three rolfing sessions with Ken. What is rolfing? In short - it's a release of emotional and physical blockages through intense "massage," ie. elbows and knuckles in deep places while I kinetically "meet him" by moving various opposing limbs. The result is a genuine release of stress and pain and elongation of limbs, light and space within my body and mind. As we go through each session, I learn a little bit about my attitude towards my body and life and see and experience an alternative way to exist that rather flows than opposes what's happening around me. For instance, in the first session, he touched upon a knot in my shoulder and I said "ah yes, that's it, let's GET RID of it!" and he suggested "how about you slide under it instead of attacking it?" So, I breathed under the knot as he suggested - the knot dissolved a bit in that instant. The next day, my shoulder and neck kept popping and cracking as it continued to dissolve years and years of stress from litigation and law school and desk jobs, etc. In that session, I kept asking him if it was supposed to feel like this, or if this was the right way, etc. Every time, he'd say "how does it feel for you?" and "you tell me if this feels like the right way." I realized that my whole life has been spent asking others how and why and where instead of just going into my own mind and body and FEELING. Gee, what do I want? What do I feel? It's not so much about what everyone else wants or thinks or does. Just me. Simple, I know. But with that interchange, it became abundantly clear to me that I'd never truly felt into me - I've measured my entire life with what others may want or expect. The exception of course has always come with travel. With travel, I've allowed myself to just go where I want and do what I want. But in REAL life, no. My only escape to not caring about others was with mind numbing substances in which I was detached and closed from myself and others in a bubble of inebriation. I was very grateful to not only hear this, but to EXPERIENCE this lesson in my body. I'll never forget this again.
The next session, I was supposed to ground into my feet while he did some work on my spine. I kept losing my footing while concentrating on what was happening at the top of my body. He reminded me again and again to find my footing. I realized that often in my yoga practice, as well as in my life, I rarely remain grounded or aware of my surroundings. I've since focused on my grounding in practice and life. I actually take the time to imagine what my footprints must look like on the sand as I walk b/c I can finally tune into their shape and understand the way I've carried myself through life. What a gift to have the time and insight to do this. I am becoming more grounded. From a solid foundation, life is much more relaxing. I also asked during the session, whether I should ground into my feet to resist the pressure he was applying. He asked "can you just meet me instead." Voila - in a nutshell. Meet, not resist. Meet, not resist. What a concept.
The last session was the most painful. He returned to the knot on my shoulder; the one that I would often hold in agony as it scrunched even tighter with the stress and anxiety of billing every six minutes of every day to my litigation practice. I breathed through it instead of tensing up, per his suggestion. At the end, I was dizzy. He grounded me through a deep shoulder massage, but my head felt fuzzy. That night, I had a nightmare that we were in ashtanga class and he told me to find my footing in tadasana/mountain pose, i.e. essentially a standing pose with two feet on the ground and two arms at the side. Simple. In my dream, I couldn't find my balance and was wobbling everywhere. I woke up the next morning and felt mentally and physically unstable. I wobbled in even the easiest of balancing poses and fell out of a couple of the more challenging ones. I kept cursing Ken every time he told me to do another vinyasa (fluid push-up sequence) and gave him venemous looks throughout class when he wasn't looking. I was pissed off and angry the entire time. At the end, when we sit in a meditative pose with crossed legs and a mudra (hand position) that unites the individual with the universe symbolically, I couldn't stop the tears from falling down my face. The crying continued through sivasana (the final resting/corpse pose). When I got up, I went to the restroom to stop the crying. I came out and shakily asked Ken, "what the hell is happening to me?" "I feel undone." "I can't control my emotions. I'm so angry and venemous and all this ugliness just keeps coming out of me." "Is this what we released last night?" I already knew the answer. He asked if I had dark thoughts that he should be concerned about. "Of course not." He said as long as they come in waves, and not constantly, to just ride through them. "We released all those years of litigation, Kyra, it's gotta come out sometime." And here it was - a flood of venom. He asked if I was a control freak before and I conceded that I was. He told me that it's scary not to have control of the emotions and it can be terrifying, but it's good to go through them. He told me to call him if it got really bad. I thanked him and he kissed me on the forehead.
I walked down to the beautiful Mandrem beach and into the Arabian Sea. I thought of the woman in Chopin's 'The Awakening' who escaped her miserable caged-pampered wife victorian life by going into the water and not coming out. I laughed that my life was nowhere as tragic, miserable, caged or pampered and I was grateful for my freedom, the wealth of my emotional range and the freedom to just FEEL and release all of this yucky stuff caged up inside me. So, I swam, I cried and I floated in the midst of it all. My venom drained into the Arabian Sea and the Arabian Sea cradled and rocked me like a baby as I released. I came out sunburned and exhausted and went home to sleep for two hours.
I met my friend Erin (from Thailand) for lunch and she told me my eyes looked more clear than they ever had. She said I was glowing. Indeed, I felt exhausted, but like I had loofa'ed (sp?) major emotional baggage away. The next day, I showed up at class much more myself, but lighter than I had been not only the day before, but in the last six years. This lesson - don't compress. Release. Merge with the pain. Let it flow. It's okay. Nothing will kill you, it will just make it better.
As a further result of rolfing , my ashtanga practice is more fluid. I study with Ken every weekday in a mysore style class. He is one of only 400 authorized Pathabi Jois instructors in the world, so to have him as a teacher and a rolfer is very auspicious for my development in yoga, indeed. He knows my body - he knows my range - and he helps lead me deeper into poses through expert adjustments. His knowledge of anatomy assures me that I can trust him to only take me as far as is healthy for me. And I'm going deeper than I ever have before.
I must admit that there's a confused element of me that isn't sure what to make of Ken. Marie Helene was convinced that he was the perfect man for me. I didn't see him like this - I told her I saw him as a teacher. He does look very similar in face to my ex boyfriend Lance and that does slay my heart anew if I think about it. But, he's a different man. But, what does a woman do when she meets a man with whom she can trust and surrender? And when she does, this man patiently and gently opens her up, helps her face her fears, helps her find peace within, helps her be a better person, a lighter being, just plain more open??? This sounds like the openings that love brings you - a partner with whom you can be a better person. Right? I have a high, very high regard for Ken, but I love and respect him as a teacher. I think he's amazing and I genuinely believe that when you are ready, the teacher will appear. He's that. In some ways, I think he's helping to develop me to be open enought and in love enough with myself to be READY when the right man for me appears. Right now, it's all about me. It's not about a man, any man. This is me. And Ken is sooooo helpful in helping me meet and love that person. I am very grateful for him. Thank you, Ken the rolfer.
As a further opening, I finally did something I always wanted to do. I pierced my nose. It didn't even hurt! I looked away and thought of ice cream and rainbows as the Italian lady pierced my nose with a needle and voila, finished! I loved the way it looked. Upon looking in the mirror, I jumped up and down and squeaed "I did it, I did it, I did it!" My friend Val, who was with me, just stood by and smiled at my childish excitement. I love having a pierced nose. On the way home, I noticed several people looking at me. I thought it must be b/c of my beautiful nose ring. I later realized that my turn signal was on the whole time. My sweet soul buddy Marie Helene is usually on the back of my bike and tells me to turn it off when I forgot. Because she returned to Kuwait (weep!), I no longer have that reminder.
A word on Marie Helene - she is truly a wonderful, generous person. She will be my friend for life. We connected instantly and had it not been for her and her brilliant wit and sense of humor, the month during the yoga course wouldn't have been nearly as enjoyable. With her, every day was great. I befriended her b/c she was a miserable virgo who wouldn't eat anything but biscuits out of plastic wrappers. She was appalled and disgusted by the dirt and grime of India. She had just spent eight years living in Dubai where everything is immaculate, air conditioned and enclosed. Her courage in even coming to India is remarkable! So, I told her, "look, tomorrow I'm renting a motorbike, we're going out for lunch and I guarantee you'll finish the day in love with India." So we went. We went to a semi-nice outdoor restaurant where you could see the tandoori chef preparing the food and she ate real food. Hurray! We talked and talked and talked so much (for three hours straight) so that when she checked her watch, we'd already missed one hour of class! We started to drive home when the only torrential downpour since I've been here occurred. We were sopping wet. We got to class and everyone moved into the restaurant b/c it was covered (our yoga sala had no walls and was soaking). This would've been fine, except for the fact that the floor was thick dirt. For the last 15 minutes of the class we barely made it to, we were doing upward dogs, pushups and downward dogs with soaking wet clothes that grew increasingly muddier with each vinyasa. At one point, she looked at me dirty, muddy and with her wild blonde curls splayed on her wet face and we started cracking up. Indeed, she fell in love with India that day. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. The next lunch, I took her nearby to a thali joint that was the dirtiest one I could find. But, the food was deliciuos and she ate it. After getting dirty and eating dirty, she no longer had hesitations with all things India. She blossomed and opened and laughed a lot. I admire her courage, her humor, her openness and her bravery. A brilliant soul! On her last day, she reflected with a smile "I'm surprised at how much I love India. Markus (her husband) will be shocked. I want to come back here." Another convert. Another beautiful being on the path. I love you Marie Helene.
A few days ago, after Marie Helene left, I had a dinner party when the restaurant opened and several people showed up - a motley cast of characters that I've had the good fortune of meeting. Freeman from junior high; Valerie - an ex fashion model who retired at 30 and spent a year in the jungle studying herb derived medicines from shamans and is now travelling through India; Robert - Val's friend from Ireland who is on a spiritual quest and sang Irish songs through the evening; Shantam and Niko - two hippys in their 50s who play flute and a slough of instruments and Niko's demure and quiet Japanese girlfriend Gone; Ken; Dylan- a devilishly handsome and flirty ashtanga teacher who has travelled the world and taught yoga for years and years and years and rapped some of his original scripts; a wild Frenchwoman and her English lover who I met earlier in a cafe and b/c they kept staring at me smiling, I just invited them - and they came - and she sang in a beautiful french voice. The food was delicious as we reclined on pillows looking over the lake and up to the stars. The guests were entertaining and amused and everyone had a lovely, lovely evening. I kept pinching myself that this was my dinner party. What a life!
I just took a weekend dance workshop called the Five Rhythms where you dance for hours and release emotional stuff. It's a new agey thing prevalent in the SF North Bay that I've always been skeptical about. So, of course I decided to go, since the emcee was a famous lady from LA. The workshop was great. A lot of stuff came up about me closing my eyes or not making eye contact with people while dancing. Again, I was reminded about how I'm out there in the public, but always maintain somewhat of a distance from most people. Why? I don't know. But, I allowed myself to make eye contact, dance with people, and have a good time. I wasn't high and my eyes weren't closed. For the first time in my life, I felt the ripple of music undulate through my body as I danced in community with other people and I loved it! I took the emcee to a nearby town to go to the market and we got lost on the way back. The ten minue drive took 1.5 hours as we toured throught the lovely Goan countryside. We had a great time and made it in time for class. She let me stay in her hotel room b/c I didn't have the exorbinant amount of money to pay for my own room. She is full of vitality and I'd recommend her course to anyone. We may take a tour of Hampi together before she leaves India. Time will tell....
My bollywood actor friend who I met while dancing around in the sand dunes with gypsies in Northern Rajastan came around for a visit. Asif Basra is on his way to a film release and unfortunately I can't go with him, but it was lovely to see him. He'll be returning with his friends to Goa and I sincerely hope that he'll choose to stay again with my friends at Whispering Lakes Resort. He has an idea of a television show where he travels the backwoods of India on a cultural tour. He invited me to be a guest on one of his shows and we discussed that I can also be his personal yoga trainer if I live in Bombay and he can refer me to other people. After some photos, he asked if I was interested in acting....Time will tell...
So, I call this posting blown doors b/c while I've been in Goa, so many barricades have been eroded or dissolved or simply blown away by a lovely light energy that makes life...easier. And it's not always easy. For instance, I am being terrorized by a rat who is becoming more territorial of our shared bungalow that he actually ran across my arm from the other side of my mosquito net at 3 in the morning! He eats my soap, knocks over all my toiletries from my bathroom shelves and spills my coconut hair oil all over the floor just to take a sip. He has broken into my bungalow through his own doors in the roof and the floors and I can't even have a standing glass of water without him getting into it. Sunni promises that he'll set a trap today and I genuinely want the vermin dead! He's gone waaaaay to far this time. He's huge and not at all cute and he simply won't. let. me. sleep. Ah, India!
But, it's all worth while. I still don't know what I'll do when I get home or if I'll even stay, but Alex's words "India will take care of you and then you'll take care of India" stay with me. India has taken beautiful care of me. I love this place. I will stay as long as I can - until my visa expires on Jan. 17 - and continue to meet and merge and surrender and open. Thank you, India. The boys say the yoga sala will commence building in a couple of days. I am looking very forward to teaching classes in such a lovely place and finally giving back even an iota of what India has given me to others.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Goa Yoga
Here I am in Goa, India. I'm studying yoga at Riva Resort on Mandrem Beach. I'm staying at www.dandoholidayhuts.com with friends from Leh between Mandrem and Arambol Beaches. They are turning this resort into a meditation retreat center and gave me a free place to stay in exchange for teaching yoga and meditation. The flyer for the place even has my picture on it as I am raising my arms to the sun up in Leh.
My hut is idyllic - made of grass with two windows overlooking a placid lake and palm tree groves with the sound of the waves crashing only five minutes away. I walk to school every morning at 6 a.m. I walk along a river, through a palm tree grove, past a small gathering of Indian homes with a family of pigs roaming about, then along the river again until it comes to the ocean. Then I walk along the beach until I get to my open air school.
In school, we are learning Ashtanga Yoga through the Iyengar and Himalaya methods. We also are learning chants, pranayama, meditation, anatomy, ayurveda and various philosophies. The two main teachers are indian and have studied with masters since a young age. Their age is impossible to tell - they appear very youthful. It's a tough discipline as we are doing four hours of physically demanding ashtanga yoga a day. We have finished one week.
The first day, I cursed myself and said "this is really hard - why am I here?" But I see that the reason I am here is to slow down, get back within my body, tone up my muscles and relax into all that is India and all that is yoga. I'm still travelling, but I've been whirling about for so long that I've lost my center and my practice. It's really nice, though challenging, to come back to these via mediation, breathing and yoga. This course is professional and slow - nothing is easy - but it's all very deep and I am already experiencing lessons and emotions that I will reflect upon in a later blog as I am still processing. Mainly, I feel alone and I know that I can not go back to a corporate life. I don't know what to do and feel a bit lost. At the same time, I feel I'm easing into the true essence of me that makes me feel really good. If I continue this practice, when I make a choice, it will serve my highest interest and I can be healthy and happy.
The resort I stayed at in Egypt contacted me to potentially start a yoga program . We have talked and I will know more later in December. If it's a go, I may return to Egypt in January and work for three months and study arabic and teach english, then perhaps explore the middle east. It is so fascinating to me. Not to mention, the economy is not so good to find a job now - teaching english and yoga is always a possibility. Life is nice. I just wish I had a man whom I could share all this love with.
As soon as I returned to India, I was relieved to see cows on the road. Two girls in the car with me were freaking out about EVERYHING and I remained unfazed. Welcome home to crazy beautiful India. I eventually found my friends' place and only one of them was here, buried underneath remodeling projects. The place itself is gorgeous and there is much work to do before it is officially open in two weeks. Last night, my other friend arrived and I feel like I am again with my Leh "family." We've adopted a kitten and have the landlord's dog, so we even have pets!
The people in my course are very nice - 20 women plus one man - and no one bothers me. They are from all over the world: Turkey (2), Lebanon, Italy, Slovenia, France (the couple), England, Canada, Holland, Ireland, Scotland, America and Mexico. I'm learning just as much about the rest of the world as I am yoga. My steady companion is a beautiful Lebanese woman named Marie Helene. We roam around on my motor bike during breaks and discuss life in the Middle East. She has lived in Dubai and is in the process of moving to Kuwait. We get along like schmick and schmack and I'm very happy to have another close girlfriend. She's very funny, very worldly and totally unique. She's going to teach me belly dancing and arabic. I'm going to teach her what I know of yoga and perfect English. Hurray!
I saw my old high school acquaintance Freeman in Goa. He tried to surprise me at the airport b/c he missed his flight, but we missed each other. So, we caught up here. He's actually a man, now. Surprise! And India has been very good to him. He's cool, easy, warm and generous. He also lives a life of enterprise and freedom that he is passionate about. He loves India. He reminds me that you can do anything you set your mind to; including living in India and making your dream job yourself. I really respect him and appreciate that I can call him a friend now. I hope to see him again. He, like Marie Helene, is a virgo. I LOVE virgos!
Today is our first half day off of school. I'm going to help the guys make a path around the lake and we'll swim in the warm water of the ocean thereafter. The beach is mostly empty now as tourist season doesn't begin until Nov. 1. Goa is thus uncharacteristically quiet and clean. I can only imagine how things will change...I've been travelling over 9 months now as of 10/23 - I can hardly believe the transformation I've undergone. I've found myself and I love me. I miss my friends, too. I wonder every day how on earth I will return to my prior life. I'm not sure how. Everything seems and feels so different now. We'll see....
My hut is idyllic - made of grass with two windows overlooking a placid lake and palm tree groves with the sound of the waves crashing only five minutes away. I walk to school every morning at 6 a.m. I walk along a river, through a palm tree grove, past a small gathering of Indian homes with a family of pigs roaming about, then along the river again until it comes to the ocean. Then I walk along the beach until I get to my open air school.
In school, we are learning Ashtanga Yoga through the Iyengar and Himalaya methods. We also are learning chants, pranayama, meditation, anatomy, ayurveda and various philosophies. The two main teachers are indian and have studied with masters since a young age. Their age is impossible to tell - they appear very youthful. It's a tough discipline as we are doing four hours of physically demanding ashtanga yoga a day. We have finished one week.
The first day, I cursed myself and said "this is really hard - why am I here?" But I see that the reason I am here is to slow down, get back within my body, tone up my muscles and relax into all that is India and all that is yoga. I'm still travelling, but I've been whirling about for so long that I've lost my center and my practice. It's really nice, though challenging, to come back to these via mediation, breathing and yoga. This course is professional and slow - nothing is easy - but it's all very deep and I am already experiencing lessons and emotions that I will reflect upon in a later blog as I am still processing. Mainly, I feel alone and I know that I can not go back to a corporate life. I don't know what to do and feel a bit lost. At the same time, I feel I'm easing into the true essence of me that makes me feel really good. If I continue this practice, when I make a choice, it will serve my highest interest and I can be healthy and happy.
The resort I stayed at in Egypt contacted me to potentially start a yoga program . We have talked and I will know more later in December. If it's a go, I may return to Egypt in January and work for three months and study arabic and teach english, then perhaps explore the middle east. It is so fascinating to me. Not to mention, the economy is not so good to find a job now - teaching english and yoga is always a possibility. Life is nice. I just wish I had a man whom I could share all this love with.
As soon as I returned to India, I was relieved to see cows on the road. Two girls in the car with me were freaking out about EVERYHING and I remained unfazed. Welcome home to crazy beautiful India. I eventually found my friends' place and only one of them was here, buried underneath remodeling projects. The place itself is gorgeous and there is much work to do before it is officially open in two weeks. Last night, my other friend arrived and I feel like I am again with my Leh "family." We've adopted a kitten and have the landlord's dog, so we even have pets!
The people in my course are very nice - 20 women plus one man - and no one bothers me. They are from all over the world: Turkey (2), Lebanon, Italy, Slovenia, France (the couple), England, Canada, Holland, Ireland, Scotland, America and Mexico. I'm learning just as much about the rest of the world as I am yoga. My steady companion is a beautiful Lebanese woman named Marie Helene. We roam around on my motor bike during breaks and discuss life in the Middle East. She has lived in Dubai and is in the process of moving to Kuwait. We get along like schmick and schmack and I'm very happy to have another close girlfriend. She's very funny, very worldly and totally unique. She's going to teach me belly dancing and arabic. I'm going to teach her what I know of yoga and perfect English. Hurray!
I saw my old high school acquaintance Freeman in Goa. He tried to surprise me at the airport b/c he missed his flight, but we missed each other. So, we caught up here. He's actually a man, now. Surprise! And India has been very good to him. He's cool, easy, warm and generous. He also lives a life of enterprise and freedom that he is passionate about. He loves India. He reminds me that you can do anything you set your mind to; including living in India and making your dream job yourself. I really respect him and appreciate that I can call him a friend now. I hope to see him again. He, like Marie Helene, is a virgo. I LOVE virgos!
Today is our first half day off of school. I'm going to help the guys make a path around the lake and we'll swim in the warm water of the ocean thereafter. The beach is mostly empty now as tourist season doesn't begin until Nov. 1. Goa is thus uncharacteristically quiet and clean. I can only imagine how things will change...I've been travelling over 9 months now as of 10/23 - I can hardly believe the transformation I've undergone. I've found myself and I love me. I miss my friends, too. I wonder every day how on earth I will return to my prior life. I'm not sure how. Everything seems and feels so different now. We'll see....
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Mystical Egypt
Every fantasy I've ever had about Egypt is true. Every one. It is nothing less than astonishing every single day: Billowing sand dunes, crystal mountains, mystical pyramids, history everywhere and in everything, veiled ladies with beautiful kohl-lined mysterious eyes, muslim men in flowing galabeas (sp?) and muslim hats, shisha/hukkah pipe smoking (fruit flavored tobacco inside) at every other shop, souqs/bazzars winding through alleys built thousands of years ago with ornate wooden windows (for the ladies to peer out of from inside) and moroccan style lanterns lighting the way, shops selling belly dancing fabric, big jewelry, foreign instruments, buckets of spices, ornate decorations, slabs of beef and camel, etc.; feluccas sailing down a peaceful nile river with reeds on the river banks (although no crocodiles or baby moseses in a basket floating by), hieroglyphics on giant stones that are marvels to behold in both size and energy, ridiculously rich sheiks with turbans and gold throwing money as if it was nothing while dancing with a gyrating bad girl from Quatar or Saudi Arabia in a dance club, silent sands, still deserts, awesome sunrises on luscious oases surrounded by sand mountains converted to tombs for the dead, the call to prayer echoing over any town five times a day, sunsets that spill over the richness of history, camels, bedoins, incredible diving and underwater life with crystal clear visibility and last but not least, a history and allure of the captivating and indescribably type - an essence that defies any description. A mystical calling...
And also the unexpected - a large reason I went to Egypt. What is Islam? Repressive to women? Full of American-hating terrorists? Belief in jihad? Intolerant of other religions? Will they stone me if I accidentally show my ankle or show a little too much curve with form fitting clothes and speak with an american accent? Do they hate us? Who is us? What is the truth about Islam? What is the truth about the middle east? What does THEIR media say truth?
I received answers to all of these. Islam is love and universal connectedness. They view women as needing to be protected b/c men can't be responsible for their own sexual urges. They love Americans - they hate George Bush. Jihad as it is currently being used as a justification for hate and death and murder is the result of bad men, not Islam. Islam recognizes other religions and has respect for their teachings, but believe Islam is the right religion. They tolerate westerners and feel that yes, we're immoral, and yes we don't respect our bodies by not covering them, but we are different and therefore are not overtly offensive - only mildly. The men, especially appreciate the opportunity to see some skin and the ability to walk close to and actually smell, and possibly brush against an actual women. Men and women don't touch - even husband and wife between sunrise and sunset - and they certainly don't have love affairs as we do in the west. They get married (a marriage, btw, can be annulled within hours, if desired). They liked my american accent as I practiced my arabic and smiled broadly when I told them where I was from. I received gifts everywhere I went and was always invited to sit for a cup of tea. They recognize that "us" is not the united states in that not all of us support our president. You see, their president is a dictator, but none of them can speak out against him or they will be harrassed, imprisoned or killed. EVERY Egyptian I spoke to expressed hatred for their president, but frustration at their inability to speak out about it out of fear. They expressed hatred b/c they had no civil rights or liberties to travel outside the country. The economy is horrible and people are starving, but the money is being taken by the president. They MUST declare a religion - either muslim or christian (the only choices) to get any sort of identification. They can't leave the country unless they pay 12,000 Euros. The last man who went up against the president during "elections" was imprisoned for something (no one really knows) and came out silent, crazy and crippled. No one has questioned anything in public since. When the president dies, his son will take over. The oppression will continue. They love Egypt, but they hate their president? Sound familiar? "Us" is more common than we thought. The truth about Islam is that it doesn't say women must veil and hide in corners. It doesn't say westerners are the spawn of satan. It doesn't say maim and destroy. This is merely the way some people have chosen to interpret islam either forcefully or otherwise. Islam actually says that a guest is God and should be treated with all due respect. As a muslim, these people are blessed to recognize right living and treat every person with respect and courtesy. They see women as someone to be protected - pure and virtuous. The way women veil is subjective - many women love to adorn their outfits with matching scarves on their heads - this was particularly apparent in Cairo. Of course, their are exceptions, fundamentalists, abusive husbands, repressed victims, as in every culture - that take it too far - this is what we've seen. It's not good. At all. I saw that, too. The Middle East is complicated and requires much more exploration to even begin to understand. Some countries are more repressive than others. Some hate westerners. Some love America. Oil is important. Geography is important. History is important. Respect for islam and the culture is key. Always. That said, I don't believe isolating ourselves and demonizing muslims, a la the media's inculcations, is the proper way to achieve peace. We need a dialogue. Not out of fear - just respect for differences. That's it. Their media doesn't demonize westerners - it just covers the news. The economic crisis, for instance. Every Egyptian I met hopes, really really really hopes Obama will win. They hate what Bush has done to demonize thier religion and culture b/c it is gravely untrue. That is the truth. I hope all of you visit the middle east and see the truth for yourselves.
I started in Dahab and stayed in a luxury resort that overlooked the Red Sea and had a domed ceiling of brick above my bed and a whitewashed veranda. I slept on pillows on the veranda a couple of nights b/c the breeze felt so nice. I scuba dived one day and it was clear and lovely with bright corals and fish and manta rays - I dived Castle and the Island. I had succulent calamari at a bedoin restaurant with pillow seats on the floor, shesha pipes, billowing fabric for walls on the north and south sides only with sea on one side and sand mountains on the other. The next day, I went further north to the blue hole with a nice Dutch lady I met and we snorkeled around the blue hole and actually dove in one meter. Gorgeous once again. Thereafter, I wanted the calamari, so I caught a taxi, i.e. a camel, and rode along the Red Sea for about 1 km so I could taste the delicious calamari again. When I got there, the proprietor exclaimed with joy that he would give me his eyes if I asked, he was so happy to see me. The Egyptians, you see, are very romantic and use such comments regularly. They're also very funny. I can't tell you how many times I would walk past a man and he'd ask "how many camels?" I made friends with the manager of the resort and he invited me to breakfast (sunset breaking of the ramadan fast) with he and his brother at his home. His brother had been preparing the food all day and it was delicious. Beef, onions, pita, tahini, salad - all very fresh and delicious. They had the tv turned on during the breakfast. I expected something holy. Nope. But, delicious and a great experience to be invited. The following day, I met him at sunrise and we climbed the mountain behind the hotel. It had a gorgous view of the resplendent sun rising over the mountains of Saudi Arabia across the Red Sea ("Mecca is just there," he pointed). Then he leaned in for a kiss to which I protested. "Don't stop me," he stated. I stopped him. No more invitations for me to dinner. : (
I next flew to Cairo as Ramadan finished. I gasped as I first laid eyes on the Nile and saw the three pyramids of Giza from so high in the sky. It was incredible! The taxi driver had a scratch, low voice like Joe Pesce and looked like an aged and weathered gangster with a pocked face and leather jacket. He explained that he had a wife and was looking for a western wife. He wantd her young like me even though he was 57. Was I interested? No thanks, just the hotel please. Cairo at dusk appeared dirty and noisy and the streets had only men wandering around the hotel. I didn't like it. The next day was different - I saw women out en masse. The three days after Ramadan are like Christmas - no one is working and everyone is celebrating and eating. Girls are allowed to roam free. Imagine my surprise at seeing boys and girls walking arm in arm through the streets of Cairo! The girls wore tight fitting denim skirts and pants with sparkles on them and garish tight t-shirts over long sleeved form fitting shirts. Of course, thier heads were covered with bright scarves tucked tightly under their chins and surrounding ounces of thick makeup and heavily lined kohl eyes. They were gorgeous and young and happy and touching!!! What a trip! I later learned that this is a special time of year. When I later returned to Cairo, no one was touching, but the girls still dressed the same.
Cairo is modern with peppered history dating back thousands of years, i.e. islamic and coptic cairo, and on the west of the Nile River b/c the east is reserved for the dead. They believe that the dead rise to the afterlife with the rising sun. Simple. There are lots of cars, traffic, smog, people from all over the world and many women on the streets, as well as men. Men only smoke in the sheesha shops - as well as the occasional western women. These shops are prolific. I explored Cairo on foot and got lost in downtown amid the post-ramadan revelry, visited the astounding Egyptian museum and saw the treasures of King Tut's tomb as well as mummified pharohs and the supernumerary wonders of pharonic egypt. I visited Saqquara and another place that begins with a C to see pyramids and tombs with beautiful inscriptions and paintings of everyday life and the passage to the everafter. I learned of the various Gods and what their purpose is. I learned of the celebration of life. I learned that no one is sure how these temples were erected. I learned that they weren't slaves, but masters, who erected the pyramids during the winter season when the Nile flooded and they couldn't tend to their farms - a "solution for unemployment," apparently.
I met with my group to go on a two week tour - a young australian couple, two fashionista kids from Queens, a dirk-like Canadian exploring the world and hoping to get to oxford on a rugby scholarship and an eccentric Kiwi guy that I couldn't really label. Everyone was nice and young. Our guide, named Gandhi b/c he looks like him and is named Mohammed like every other Egyptian, was a bit older than I and very organized and nice. I was irked to have a time schedule, but very lucky to have a guide and such nice people with which to explore Egypt. I reminded myself that I used to have such a regiment that I had to account for every six minutes - if I could do that this would be no problem. We went to the Pyramids of Giza which were truly awe-inspiring and visited the Giant Sphyx. As I was walking up to this mystical piece of ancient egypt majestically situated in front of the middle great pyramid, I heard on my right "camel, camel" which I ignored b/c I knew it was someone selling a stuffed animal camel. I walked on and marveled at the majestic state of all this. Then, however, the voice said "dancing camel" and I turned around to see stuffed animal camels dancing on the white alabaster hallway - the voice was hidden behind an ancient pillar. I just had to laugh. Welcome to Egypt. A place where ancient majestic history rich and resplendent is met with people needing money, yet maintaing their humor all the time. A common greeting is "welcome to alaska." Very funny people. I didn't buy the dancing camel. I kindof wish I had.
We took an overnight train to Aswan which was conservative and beautiful and calm. It's more african than the rest of Egypy b/c it is Nubian. The people are dark skinned and they sell more spices and play drums and chant in an africanized fashion. We shopped in the souq where two different shopkeepers brushed against me and I balked - they acted surprised. It irked me. One other shopkeeper was all googley-eyed and gave me great discounts b/c I agreed to shake his hand for a lower price. Selling myself, I guess. Not too bad - I got a great price. I also was offered seven thousand camels as I walked solo along the Nile River one day. I met an English man along the way who asked if I'd join his feluca. I declined, but suggested a cup of coffee as I was exhausted. We walked to a gorgeous view and it happened to be McDonalds! It had the most beautiful view of the Nile and delicious turkish coffee (mud like and small and very, very strong). Who knew?
We took a feluca up the Nile and stopped overnight for a fireside dance and singing with several other touring feluccas. I had a bad case of diarreaha and missed the party, but no worries. It was lovely to be there. We visited Abu Simbel which was a giant temple for Ramses and another one for his wife Nefrititi carved in to two giant stone mountains. UNESCO moved the site to avoid flooding when the damn was built. I was in awe as to the beauty and magnitude of these temples as well as the feat of moving them! We also visited an island that had a temple for Isis on it - I can't remember the name right now. Again, there were carvings and ruins and temples that were larger than life and absolutely awe-inspiring. We swam in the Nile with no crocodiles and it was cool water with a strong current. I had to pinch myself that I was actually IN THE NILE RIVER!!! We visited a nubian village and I bought candy for the children. Two fruit sellers proposed marriage in 10 minutes.
We carried on to Luxor which was magic. Luxor had Karnak, the Temple of Luxor, the Valley of Kings, the Valley of Queens, Ramses' Temple, the Laborer's Valley, Hatsheput's Temple and so many other places. Luxor is still being excavated b/c it has so many antiquities dating back thousands of years. They are regularly discovering new antiquities and resituating entire villages (and parts of Luxor itself) due to discoveries of towns atop tombs. Even today! Karnak was breathtaking in detail and grandeur. Many generations of phaorohs added their mark here and the statues, carving, obelisks and ruins defied description. The Valleys all contain(ed) dead people and were stuffed with beautiful objects and art for the afterlife of the deceased. The Royal people obviously had much more than the laborers. I learned that these valleys were forgotten in history b/c their location was known only to the ruling pharohs and of course the laborers (specially skilled people who built and decorated the tombs as soon as a pharoh took the throne). The laborers lived in nearby village specially built for to work on the temples regularly. When the government changed sometime after the Romans accepted Christianity, the bulding of the temples ceased and these people had no source of income. They would go into the temples and take only what they needed to survive. When we went to their tombs, we saw equally skilled work on the walls - they worked six days on the pharohs tombs and one on their own. Their was also a greco-roman church in this village, which illustrated the acceptance of egyptian religion fused with greco-roman influence. Emporers were dressed as pharohs and going through the same afterlife process as the pharohs with the egyptian gods dressed somewhat differently (with roman cross-hatched design) and carrying knives. I took a hot air balloon with Twinkle (from New York - an awesome 22 year - beautiful, brilliant and super cool) over all of the temples at sunrise. It was pricey, but I loved feeling like I was one of the gods flying over the temples to see if the giant statues and temples pleased me enough to grant eternal life. We were mostly pleased up there in the sky. It was truly awe inspiring to see the reverence for pharohs and life. We went to McDonalds - the first time I had food there in over 20 years! - and it overlooked the beautiful Luxor Temple. I think McDonald's must have prime real estate all over Egypt! Luxor Temple had an avenue of Sphinxes and dozens of temples and statutes richly adorned. We went at night and everything was illuminated beautifully. It felt out of this world. We took a horse and buggy back to the hotel that night along the Nile. As we were trotting along past ancient relics and marvelous hotels overlooking the Nile, I once again gave thanks for my life. I smiled the whole way home.
We next took a train to Alexandria, which was breezy and beautiful. Most of the historical places were destroyed. The New Yorkers and I teamed up. We had a drink on the water, then visited the library (closed for Friday prayer). We got lost downtown, then took a taxi to the famous fort which was built over a famous ancient lighthouse that fell into the sea during an earthquake. There, we had a delicous seafood lunch, then went shopping for nubian jewelry. We walked back along the water's windy edge and I felt so revived - I felt like I was in San Francisco. Married couples were walkig arm in arm and smiling at the water. Fisherman cast their lines in formation along the entire coast. It was lovely. We stumbled upon a gorgeous mosque with a giant fountain. Alongside this was a carnival with families beaming and smiling amid the lights of the rides. I tried some cotton candy - tastes just like the ones at home. We later met up with the group and brought them back here for George's birthday ride on a rocket ship. Then, we had more extraordiary seafood. We chatted on my balcony deep into the evening as it overlooked the water. We left too early the next day. I want to return to Alexandria. An entire temple and two cities fell into the water and is aviailable for scuba viewing. They plan on building the world's first ever underwater museum. Diving before it is built is costly. Perhaps I can study arabic, teach english, and scuba dive on the side with my income...we'll see...
As we headed to the desert, we stopped at Cleopatra's beach, where she was rumored to escape to with Mark Anthony. It was nice to see waves crashing over rocks and feel the sand beneath my feet. We stopped for only 10 minutes, so no swimming. But lovely. Next, we went to the giant oasis of Siwa. Thousands of palm trees and mineral springs and an ancient dilapidated city center consisting of salt-sand walls that fell to pieces during a rain storm. The resulting structures spilling over the top of the hill reminded me of Gaudi park in Barcelona, Spain - but all natural. There were several mosques here, so the call to prayer was very, very audible. Here, the women were even more conservative and I rarely say a woman's face as it was under a heavy veil - most with no eye-slits. We visited a mountain where tombs for the common people were built. The art was crude and very roman influenced. We then went to the Oracle's temple where Alexander the Great came several times for guidance and to inquire if he was indeed the son of Zeus. No one knows the answer. I asked the ruined temple what my purpose was and had the thought that it is whatever I make it. We then went to Cleopatra's bath - a mineral spring - and had a brief swim - I swam in pants and a t-shirt. Cleopatra never came here - Alexander did. There were men around waiting for the opportunity to see bare flesh. We travelled by donkey cart, by the way. At the mountain of the dead, one donkey started braying inconsolably as we walked away - Twinkle and I felt horrible - but that's the working life among donkeys, I suppose. We smoked shishas here at night b/c there wasn't much to do. Siwa was really beautiful. Very calm. Very nice. Very muslim. In the desert.
Gandhi and I discussed marriage in islam. He told me about the ability to marry and divorce so sex isn't illegal. He told me how no one touches unless the girl is bad and she is VERY bad if you can kiss her before marriage. As a result, sex is like war, he says. The women is terrified and never wants to do it. The man has no idea what to do. When he tried to touch his wife's breast and asked what was wrong she replied "I've been hiding them for 25 years." She also had a genital "adjustment" when she was younger, so her sensual pleasure is gone. He said for many women, the wedding night is the worst night of their life if the husband is not patient or kind. Many men reach the age of 40 having never touched a woman and even knowing what their wrist feels like or what her hair smells like is a source of intrigue. This is the reason the men touched me in the Aswan market and why I get so many marriage proposals. Western women are so much more liberated - the men want to learn. It's natural. Crazy.
We next travelled to a smaller oasis and into the white desert. We passed a crystal hill where the rocks are all giant mounds of crystal sparkling in the sun. "Crystal Energy is Good!" I sang. The whole group started singing this song thereafter. We swam in another mineral spring and ascended a hill in the Black Desert overlooking dozens of black volcanoes peppered along the blackened desert horizon. We arrived to the White Desert at sunset and everything was gleaming pink and pearl like. The moon was full and illuminted the giant white rock formations all night long. It looks very similar to Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia/Chile. It looks like snow and Dali drew pictures of the Bolivian rocks - tall, strange contorted white formations jutting out of sand - but everything is bone dry and surrounded by sand and sun.
Gandhi and I walked into the desert as everyone slept. It was too mystical for sleep. He told me I should stay in Egypt and offered to marry me and give me a house as his second wife. It was a nice offer, I said, but there was no way I could live in Islamic society. Then he said he was kidding. He later said he wasn't. Either way, I told him that I want to marry a western man - and I do. An islamic life is not for me, even if my husband is a good man, like Gandhi. I hope we remain friends. He taught me a lot about Islam. I even shook his hand and hugged him when we said goodbye in Cairo. Other than that, no touching. Just talking. Thank you, Gandhi.
We returned to Cairo and had a farewell dinner at a famous kebab place in islamic cairo. Cats were everywhere and it felt ancient eating outisde in a labrynthian alley. Gandhi brought Twinkle and I to a place where we could buy shisha pipes (I bought one for my friends who have a new restaurant in Goa). On the way, we had to step over a calf that had its throat slit and had blood gushing onto the stones beneath its dead body being bludgeoned by two men. This is islamic Cairo. The streets are so old and ancient that they can't even install plumbing. Everything is done in the old tradition. The next day, I reconnected with Ed (the Englishman I met in Aswan) and returned to islamic cairo with Ed and Ben. We walked through downtown Cairo to get there and saw the streets teeming with activity. A vendor gave me a delicous glass of juice which I drank with no unsavory after-affects. We stumbled upon a coffee house that dated back 140 years. We sat for an hour in the courtyard of a giant mosque and spoke with an Egyptian about life, politics and religion. A man came along and gave me several books on islam. I sat veiled and at peace in this sanctuary in the middle of a thriving city of 20 million people (80% islam, 20% christian, btw). Then, we went back into the bazzar and did some haggling and shopping. We finally relaxed in a famous shisha cafe and had exceptionally delicious fresh pomegranate juice (served with spoon and straw) and a strawberry tobacco flavored shisa. Next to us was a lovely lady in her 70s who has been travelling most of her life. She was vibrant and beautiful and inspired me that I could live a life on the road if I desired. She saw Omar Sharif here once, she said. I wish I could see him. Gorgeous man. Egyptians passed by selling everything under the sun and I bargained very hard for a scarf. I felt bad at the low price I got b/c the state of affairs is very grim for many. I gave all of my food away as we were walking through Cairo. You can't help everybody. We ended the night with a tea and shisha on a beautiful hill overlooking all of Cairo. We drove past the citadel on our way up and down. The minarets and spires of the thousands of mosques on the Cairo skyline was truly dazzling.
That night, Ed and I went for Italian food in the ex-pat part of town on an island in the middle of the Nile, which was delicious. We found a way to buy a bottle of wine and left to find a place to drink it. Not allowed in the restaurant. We explored a beautiful ancient house with an open door to try to get to the roof, but no access. I saw a sign that said "apartment for rent for foreigners" and a man sitting near the sign inquired if I was interested. We proceeded to check out what an apartment in Cairo was like for 3000 egyptian pounds. We walked forever and he asked several doormen along the way in several apartments something and turned around to take us to the next place. Eventually, we found two vacancies and they were both dives with giant furniture and tiny windows. We carried on to the Nile and went into a glitzy bar/restaurant that reminded me of Miami. The prices were outrageous and we had no cash, so we walked on to find an ATM and a different option. We met several felucca captains and arranged to have a one hour tour for 50 pounds (about $10USD). We passed a private club where a wedding party entered and they invited us in. We carried on to town where there were cafes and rich egyptians and expats having coffees and shisas al fresco. We found an atm, bought some chocolate pastries and went back in the direction from whence we'd come. There were weddings in every river club and restaurant and park and giant feluccas were sailing past with egyptians dancing and celebrating with the bridal couple. We entered the club to find the couple that invited us in. The doorguy begrudgingly let us enter for 'two minutes only' and told us where the party was. We entered and just kindof observed the couple on the stage smiling out at the dancing crowd. Then, a man whispered into the ear of the groom and they both looked at us and the man called us over, smiling. We took pictures with them at their request, then the crowd pulled us on to the dance floor and everyone was snapping our photos and requesting dances - kids, old people, men, women. Ed kept saying we needed to leave b/c we were stealing the attention from the bride and groom and I kept saying we had to leave b/c security was going to come for us. But the crowd would not let us out of the circle. We had no choice but to keep dancing! We were finally pulled out of the crowd by the door man who was laughing and smiling while saying we weren't allowed. Imagine our surprise when we walked a bit farther up the road and saw a different wedding party in the same club dancing outside. THIS was the couple that invited us in. So, we actually crashed someone's wedding and they were as warm and welcoming as anyone I've ever met! We went for the felucca ride with red wine and chocolate - we paid the captain extra baksheesh for the illegality of the action - and toured around gorgeous Cairo with its towering lights on one side and the luxury villas of the embassies on the island. It was really romantic as we sat there taking it all in, side by side, as mates. The word that came to mind was "captivating" and Ed agreed. I fell absolutely in love with Cairo and finally understood a line in a book I read: "When you first arrive in Cairo, you can't wait to leave. When you finally leave Cairo, you can't wait to come back."
We tipped the captain and walked along to find some live music. I asked a tall Egyptian man with funky glasses whether he worked at a nightclub with live music and he said "yes." He was a sound engineer and took us for free to the swankiest club in all of Cairo. A famous Egyptian singer would be performing that evening (morning, actually, 4 am) and he kept tryign to tell us we should come back later, but we decided to stay and check the progress of the evening. We had one prohibitively expensive cocktail, then switched to tea and shisha. What transpired was weird. The DJ was incredible; truly one of the best I've ever heard. Only women danced and they were clearly prostitutes but incredible belly dancers in their tight jeans and tank tops. Every once in a while, a song would play in an arbic language and the men would come out and sing and dance. They clearly were gay, but since homosexuality is illegal, they weren't. No one was allowed to touch anyone else, but the indications were pretty darn stark! Then, it became crowded with people from Saudi Arabia and Quatar and Morocco. The Egyptian singer and band walked out onto the dance floor dressed in white galabeas and the picnic-looking head scarves of a sheik and sang while walking between the dancers. Men would say something in his ear while he was singing then throw giant wads of cash into the sky. Five men in white shirts had the job of picking up the bills. No one else touched them. There were giant body guards dressed in black suits that held up their hands to keep me from coming too close to who knows who on the dance floor (I danced once) and otherwise watched the women dancing at a very uncomfortable range. The rich men continued to throw money as they danced in increments of 50 pounds as Ed and I gasped in astonishment. I asked the bathroom attendant why they did this: "Because they are Crazy - not from Egypt - crazy people!" she said.
Mohammed, our friend that we met on the street, later told us that they were sons of oil sheiks and danced like this every night. They collected 30,000 pounds in this manner that evening = split evenly between the singer and the house. We finally left at 5 in the morning when the singing had ended. It was wild!
Mohammed had invited us to his house for lunch, so Ed picked me up at 1 pm for a 3pm lunch. We hopped in a cab with Mohammed and for about an hour to a suburb outside the citadel. Mohammed lives like so many Egyptians in a shoddy high rise apartment next to dozens of other shoddy high rise apartments. We arrived on the top floor to a clean and elegant little place with big furniture and a wailing baby boy. His son is 1.6 and a beautiful little boy. His wife came out blushing with a headscarf and said "hello." She spoke no English. Nonetheless, she took me into her bedroom and gave me egyptian kohl eyes and wrapped my head in my scarf in the muslim fashion. She was very sweet and said "I love you very much" as she insisted I take a plastic pearl necklace as a gift. We viewed photos of their family and life and played with their son while waiting for her fasting period to pass before eating. During Ramadan, she couldn't pray for four days due to her period and was now catching up. At 5:30, she served us a delicious Egyptian feast which she took four hours to prepare. We talked about the repression of Egyptians and rituals of islam. They were a truly kind couple. We were very lucky to have such an expose into Egyptian life.
On our way back to the hotel, we stopped at the same hill overlooking Cairo and I got to say goodbye to this incredible city. I jokingly kissed Ed on the cheek, to which the driver with his ever watchful eye exclaimed. Mohammed immediately told me "Kyra, please don't kiss Ed - the driver has requested." Islam. I made a special point to smile, make direct eye contact with the driver and say goodbye to him when I got out of the cab. He smiled back and I wondered if he thought I was a demon. Likely. Ed and Mohammed carried on and I returned to the hotel to pack and go to the airport. At the airport, I had two men pull a scam that they could help me get through the lines faster. I knew it was unnecessary, but gave both of them backsheesh of 20 ponds each. I generously tipped the bathroom attendant as well. When I realized I didn't have enough pounds to get a cup of coffee, the service guy said I could have it for free. So I gave him the rest of my money as a tip ( 7 pounds, but 12 pounds for a cup of coffee). He smiled very large and so did I. I love Egypt.
And now I'm back in India. In Goa...I am unfazed by crazy traffic, cows, leering men, substandard accomodation, veiled women and the overall bizarreness of India. It's nice to be back. Really nice. Astshti
And also the unexpected - a large reason I went to Egypt. What is Islam? Repressive to women? Full of American-hating terrorists? Belief in jihad? Intolerant of other religions? Will they stone me if I accidentally show my ankle or show a little too much curve with form fitting clothes and speak with an american accent? Do they hate us? Who is us? What is the truth about Islam? What is the truth about the middle east? What does THEIR media say truth?
I received answers to all of these. Islam is love and universal connectedness. They view women as needing to be protected b/c men can't be responsible for their own sexual urges. They love Americans - they hate George Bush. Jihad as it is currently being used as a justification for hate and death and murder is the result of bad men, not Islam. Islam recognizes other religions and has respect for their teachings, but believe Islam is the right religion. They tolerate westerners and feel that yes, we're immoral, and yes we don't respect our bodies by not covering them, but we are different and therefore are not overtly offensive - only mildly. The men, especially appreciate the opportunity to see some skin and the ability to walk close to and actually smell, and possibly brush against an actual women. Men and women don't touch - even husband and wife between sunrise and sunset - and they certainly don't have love affairs as we do in the west. They get married (a marriage, btw, can be annulled within hours, if desired). They liked my american accent as I practiced my arabic and smiled broadly when I told them where I was from. I received gifts everywhere I went and was always invited to sit for a cup of tea. They recognize that "us" is not the united states in that not all of us support our president. You see, their president is a dictator, but none of them can speak out against him or they will be harrassed, imprisoned or killed. EVERY Egyptian I spoke to expressed hatred for their president, but frustration at their inability to speak out about it out of fear. They expressed hatred b/c they had no civil rights or liberties to travel outside the country. The economy is horrible and people are starving, but the money is being taken by the president. They MUST declare a religion - either muslim or christian (the only choices) to get any sort of identification. They can't leave the country unless they pay 12,000 Euros. The last man who went up against the president during "elections" was imprisoned for something (no one really knows) and came out silent, crazy and crippled. No one has questioned anything in public since. When the president dies, his son will take over. The oppression will continue. They love Egypt, but they hate their president? Sound familiar? "Us" is more common than we thought. The truth about Islam is that it doesn't say women must veil and hide in corners. It doesn't say westerners are the spawn of satan. It doesn't say maim and destroy. This is merely the way some people have chosen to interpret islam either forcefully or otherwise. Islam actually says that a guest is God and should be treated with all due respect. As a muslim, these people are blessed to recognize right living and treat every person with respect and courtesy. They see women as someone to be protected - pure and virtuous. The way women veil is subjective - many women love to adorn their outfits with matching scarves on their heads - this was particularly apparent in Cairo. Of course, their are exceptions, fundamentalists, abusive husbands, repressed victims, as in every culture - that take it too far - this is what we've seen. It's not good. At all. I saw that, too. The Middle East is complicated and requires much more exploration to even begin to understand. Some countries are more repressive than others. Some hate westerners. Some love America. Oil is important. Geography is important. History is important. Respect for islam and the culture is key. Always. That said, I don't believe isolating ourselves and demonizing muslims, a la the media's inculcations, is the proper way to achieve peace. We need a dialogue. Not out of fear - just respect for differences. That's it. Their media doesn't demonize westerners - it just covers the news. The economic crisis, for instance. Every Egyptian I met hopes, really really really hopes Obama will win. They hate what Bush has done to demonize thier religion and culture b/c it is gravely untrue. That is the truth. I hope all of you visit the middle east and see the truth for yourselves.
I started in Dahab and stayed in a luxury resort that overlooked the Red Sea and had a domed ceiling of brick above my bed and a whitewashed veranda. I slept on pillows on the veranda a couple of nights b/c the breeze felt so nice. I scuba dived one day and it was clear and lovely with bright corals and fish and manta rays - I dived Castle and the Island. I had succulent calamari at a bedoin restaurant with pillow seats on the floor, shesha pipes, billowing fabric for walls on the north and south sides only with sea on one side and sand mountains on the other. The next day, I went further north to the blue hole with a nice Dutch lady I met and we snorkeled around the blue hole and actually dove in one meter. Gorgeous once again. Thereafter, I wanted the calamari, so I caught a taxi, i.e. a camel, and rode along the Red Sea for about 1 km so I could taste the delicious calamari again. When I got there, the proprietor exclaimed with joy that he would give me his eyes if I asked, he was so happy to see me. The Egyptians, you see, are very romantic and use such comments regularly. They're also very funny. I can't tell you how many times I would walk past a man and he'd ask "how many camels?" I made friends with the manager of the resort and he invited me to breakfast (sunset breaking of the ramadan fast) with he and his brother at his home. His brother had been preparing the food all day and it was delicious. Beef, onions, pita, tahini, salad - all very fresh and delicious. They had the tv turned on during the breakfast. I expected something holy. Nope. But, delicious and a great experience to be invited. The following day, I met him at sunrise and we climbed the mountain behind the hotel. It had a gorgous view of the resplendent sun rising over the mountains of Saudi Arabia across the Red Sea ("Mecca is just there," he pointed). Then he leaned in for a kiss to which I protested. "Don't stop me," he stated. I stopped him. No more invitations for me to dinner. : (
I next flew to Cairo as Ramadan finished. I gasped as I first laid eyes on the Nile and saw the three pyramids of Giza from so high in the sky. It was incredible! The taxi driver had a scratch, low voice like Joe Pesce and looked like an aged and weathered gangster with a pocked face and leather jacket. He explained that he had a wife and was looking for a western wife. He wantd her young like me even though he was 57. Was I interested? No thanks, just the hotel please. Cairo at dusk appeared dirty and noisy and the streets had only men wandering around the hotel. I didn't like it. The next day was different - I saw women out en masse. The three days after Ramadan are like Christmas - no one is working and everyone is celebrating and eating. Girls are allowed to roam free. Imagine my surprise at seeing boys and girls walking arm in arm through the streets of Cairo! The girls wore tight fitting denim skirts and pants with sparkles on them and garish tight t-shirts over long sleeved form fitting shirts. Of course, thier heads were covered with bright scarves tucked tightly under their chins and surrounding ounces of thick makeup and heavily lined kohl eyes. They were gorgeous and young and happy and touching!!! What a trip! I later learned that this is a special time of year. When I later returned to Cairo, no one was touching, but the girls still dressed the same.
Cairo is modern with peppered history dating back thousands of years, i.e. islamic and coptic cairo, and on the west of the Nile River b/c the east is reserved for the dead. They believe that the dead rise to the afterlife with the rising sun. Simple. There are lots of cars, traffic, smog, people from all over the world and many women on the streets, as well as men. Men only smoke in the sheesha shops - as well as the occasional western women. These shops are prolific. I explored Cairo on foot and got lost in downtown amid the post-ramadan revelry, visited the astounding Egyptian museum and saw the treasures of King Tut's tomb as well as mummified pharohs and the supernumerary wonders of pharonic egypt. I visited Saqquara and another place that begins with a C to see pyramids and tombs with beautiful inscriptions and paintings of everyday life and the passage to the everafter. I learned of the various Gods and what their purpose is. I learned of the celebration of life. I learned that no one is sure how these temples were erected. I learned that they weren't slaves, but masters, who erected the pyramids during the winter season when the Nile flooded and they couldn't tend to their farms - a "solution for unemployment," apparently.
I met with my group to go on a two week tour - a young australian couple, two fashionista kids from Queens, a dirk-like Canadian exploring the world and hoping to get to oxford on a rugby scholarship and an eccentric Kiwi guy that I couldn't really label. Everyone was nice and young. Our guide, named Gandhi b/c he looks like him and is named Mohammed like every other Egyptian, was a bit older than I and very organized and nice. I was irked to have a time schedule, but very lucky to have a guide and such nice people with which to explore Egypt. I reminded myself that I used to have such a regiment that I had to account for every six minutes - if I could do that this would be no problem. We went to the Pyramids of Giza which were truly awe-inspiring and visited the Giant Sphyx. As I was walking up to this mystical piece of ancient egypt majestically situated in front of the middle great pyramid, I heard on my right "camel, camel" which I ignored b/c I knew it was someone selling a stuffed animal camel. I walked on and marveled at the majestic state of all this. Then, however, the voice said "dancing camel" and I turned around to see stuffed animal camels dancing on the white alabaster hallway - the voice was hidden behind an ancient pillar. I just had to laugh. Welcome to Egypt. A place where ancient majestic history rich and resplendent is met with people needing money, yet maintaing their humor all the time. A common greeting is "welcome to alaska." Very funny people. I didn't buy the dancing camel. I kindof wish I had.
We took an overnight train to Aswan which was conservative and beautiful and calm. It's more african than the rest of Egypy b/c it is Nubian. The people are dark skinned and they sell more spices and play drums and chant in an africanized fashion. We shopped in the souq where two different shopkeepers brushed against me and I balked - they acted surprised. It irked me. One other shopkeeper was all googley-eyed and gave me great discounts b/c I agreed to shake his hand for a lower price. Selling myself, I guess. Not too bad - I got a great price. I also was offered seven thousand camels as I walked solo along the Nile River one day. I met an English man along the way who asked if I'd join his feluca. I declined, but suggested a cup of coffee as I was exhausted. We walked to a gorgeous view and it happened to be McDonalds! It had the most beautiful view of the Nile and delicious turkish coffee (mud like and small and very, very strong). Who knew?
We took a feluca up the Nile and stopped overnight for a fireside dance and singing with several other touring feluccas. I had a bad case of diarreaha and missed the party, but no worries. It was lovely to be there. We visited Abu Simbel which was a giant temple for Ramses and another one for his wife Nefrititi carved in to two giant stone mountains. UNESCO moved the site to avoid flooding when the damn was built. I was in awe as to the beauty and magnitude of these temples as well as the feat of moving them! We also visited an island that had a temple for Isis on it - I can't remember the name right now. Again, there were carvings and ruins and temples that were larger than life and absolutely awe-inspiring. We swam in the Nile with no crocodiles and it was cool water with a strong current. I had to pinch myself that I was actually IN THE NILE RIVER!!! We visited a nubian village and I bought candy for the children. Two fruit sellers proposed marriage in 10 minutes.
We carried on to Luxor which was magic. Luxor had Karnak, the Temple of Luxor, the Valley of Kings, the Valley of Queens, Ramses' Temple, the Laborer's Valley, Hatsheput's Temple and so many other places. Luxor is still being excavated b/c it has so many antiquities dating back thousands of years. They are regularly discovering new antiquities and resituating entire villages (and parts of Luxor itself) due to discoveries of towns atop tombs. Even today! Karnak was breathtaking in detail and grandeur. Many generations of phaorohs added their mark here and the statues, carving, obelisks and ruins defied description. The Valleys all contain(ed) dead people and were stuffed with beautiful objects and art for the afterlife of the deceased. The Royal people obviously had much more than the laborers. I learned that these valleys were forgotten in history b/c their location was known only to the ruling pharohs and of course the laborers (specially skilled people who built and decorated the tombs as soon as a pharoh took the throne). The laborers lived in nearby village specially built for to work on the temples regularly. When the government changed sometime after the Romans accepted Christianity, the bulding of the temples ceased and these people had no source of income. They would go into the temples and take only what they needed to survive. When we went to their tombs, we saw equally skilled work on the walls - they worked six days on the pharohs tombs and one on their own. Their was also a greco-roman church in this village, which illustrated the acceptance of egyptian religion fused with greco-roman influence. Emporers were dressed as pharohs and going through the same afterlife process as the pharohs with the egyptian gods dressed somewhat differently (with roman cross-hatched design) and carrying knives. I took a hot air balloon with Twinkle (from New York - an awesome 22 year - beautiful, brilliant and super cool) over all of the temples at sunrise. It was pricey, but I loved feeling like I was one of the gods flying over the temples to see if the giant statues and temples pleased me enough to grant eternal life. We were mostly pleased up there in the sky. It was truly awe inspiring to see the reverence for pharohs and life. We went to McDonalds - the first time I had food there in over 20 years! - and it overlooked the beautiful Luxor Temple. I think McDonald's must have prime real estate all over Egypt! Luxor Temple had an avenue of Sphinxes and dozens of temples and statutes richly adorned. We went at night and everything was illuminated beautifully. It felt out of this world. We took a horse and buggy back to the hotel that night along the Nile. As we were trotting along past ancient relics and marvelous hotels overlooking the Nile, I once again gave thanks for my life. I smiled the whole way home.
We next took a train to Alexandria, which was breezy and beautiful. Most of the historical places were destroyed. The New Yorkers and I teamed up. We had a drink on the water, then visited the library (closed for Friday prayer). We got lost downtown, then took a taxi to the famous fort which was built over a famous ancient lighthouse that fell into the sea during an earthquake. There, we had a delicous seafood lunch, then went shopping for nubian jewelry. We walked back along the water's windy edge and I felt so revived - I felt like I was in San Francisco. Married couples were walkig arm in arm and smiling at the water. Fisherman cast their lines in formation along the entire coast. It was lovely. We stumbled upon a gorgeous mosque with a giant fountain. Alongside this was a carnival with families beaming and smiling amid the lights of the rides. I tried some cotton candy - tastes just like the ones at home. We later met up with the group and brought them back here for George's birthday ride on a rocket ship. Then, we had more extraordiary seafood. We chatted on my balcony deep into the evening as it overlooked the water. We left too early the next day. I want to return to Alexandria. An entire temple and two cities fell into the water and is aviailable for scuba viewing. They plan on building the world's first ever underwater museum. Diving before it is built is costly. Perhaps I can study arabic, teach english, and scuba dive on the side with my income...we'll see...
As we headed to the desert, we stopped at Cleopatra's beach, where she was rumored to escape to with Mark Anthony. It was nice to see waves crashing over rocks and feel the sand beneath my feet. We stopped for only 10 minutes, so no swimming. But lovely. Next, we went to the giant oasis of Siwa. Thousands of palm trees and mineral springs and an ancient dilapidated city center consisting of salt-sand walls that fell to pieces during a rain storm. The resulting structures spilling over the top of the hill reminded me of Gaudi park in Barcelona, Spain - but all natural. There were several mosques here, so the call to prayer was very, very audible. Here, the women were even more conservative and I rarely say a woman's face as it was under a heavy veil - most with no eye-slits. We visited a mountain where tombs for the common people were built. The art was crude and very roman influenced. We then went to the Oracle's temple where Alexander the Great came several times for guidance and to inquire if he was indeed the son of Zeus. No one knows the answer. I asked the ruined temple what my purpose was and had the thought that it is whatever I make it. We then went to Cleopatra's bath - a mineral spring - and had a brief swim - I swam in pants and a t-shirt. Cleopatra never came here - Alexander did. There were men around waiting for the opportunity to see bare flesh. We travelled by donkey cart, by the way. At the mountain of the dead, one donkey started braying inconsolably as we walked away - Twinkle and I felt horrible - but that's the working life among donkeys, I suppose. We smoked shishas here at night b/c there wasn't much to do. Siwa was really beautiful. Very calm. Very nice. Very muslim. In the desert.
Gandhi and I discussed marriage in islam. He told me about the ability to marry and divorce so sex isn't illegal. He told me how no one touches unless the girl is bad and she is VERY bad if you can kiss her before marriage. As a result, sex is like war, he says. The women is terrified and never wants to do it. The man has no idea what to do. When he tried to touch his wife's breast and asked what was wrong she replied "I've been hiding them for 25 years." She also had a genital "adjustment" when she was younger, so her sensual pleasure is gone. He said for many women, the wedding night is the worst night of their life if the husband is not patient or kind. Many men reach the age of 40 having never touched a woman and even knowing what their wrist feels like or what her hair smells like is a source of intrigue. This is the reason the men touched me in the Aswan market and why I get so many marriage proposals. Western women are so much more liberated - the men want to learn. It's natural. Crazy.
We next travelled to a smaller oasis and into the white desert. We passed a crystal hill where the rocks are all giant mounds of crystal sparkling in the sun. "Crystal Energy is Good!" I sang. The whole group started singing this song thereafter. We swam in another mineral spring and ascended a hill in the Black Desert overlooking dozens of black volcanoes peppered along the blackened desert horizon. We arrived to the White Desert at sunset and everything was gleaming pink and pearl like. The moon was full and illuminted the giant white rock formations all night long. It looks very similar to Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia/Chile. It looks like snow and Dali drew pictures of the Bolivian rocks - tall, strange contorted white formations jutting out of sand - but everything is bone dry and surrounded by sand and sun.
Gandhi and I walked into the desert as everyone slept. It was too mystical for sleep. He told me I should stay in Egypt and offered to marry me and give me a house as his second wife. It was a nice offer, I said, but there was no way I could live in Islamic society. Then he said he was kidding. He later said he wasn't. Either way, I told him that I want to marry a western man - and I do. An islamic life is not for me, even if my husband is a good man, like Gandhi. I hope we remain friends. He taught me a lot about Islam. I even shook his hand and hugged him when we said goodbye in Cairo. Other than that, no touching. Just talking. Thank you, Gandhi.
We returned to Cairo and had a farewell dinner at a famous kebab place in islamic cairo. Cats were everywhere and it felt ancient eating outisde in a labrynthian alley. Gandhi brought Twinkle and I to a place where we could buy shisha pipes (I bought one for my friends who have a new restaurant in Goa). On the way, we had to step over a calf that had its throat slit and had blood gushing onto the stones beneath its dead body being bludgeoned by two men. This is islamic Cairo. The streets are so old and ancient that they can't even install plumbing. Everything is done in the old tradition. The next day, I reconnected with Ed (the Englishman I met in Aswan) and returned to islamic cairo with Ed and Ben. We walked through downtown Cairo to get there and saw the streets teeming with activity. A vendor gave me a delicous glass of juice which I drank with no unsavory after-affects. We stumbled upon a coffee house that dated back 140 years. We sat for an hour in the courtyard of a giant mosque and spoke with an Egyptian about life, politics and religion. A man came along and gave me several books on islam. I sat veiled and at peace in this sanctuary in the middle of a thriving city of 20 million people (80% islam, 20% christian, btw). Then, we went back into the bazzar and did some haggling and shopping. We finally relaxed in a famous shisha cafe and had exceptionally delicious fresh pomegranate juice (served with spoon and straw) and a strawberry tobacco flavored shisa. Next to us was a lovely lady in her 70s who has been travelling most of her life. She was vibrant and beautiful and inspired me that I could live a life on the road if I desired. She saw Omar Sharif here once, she said. I wish I could see him. Gorgeous man. Egyptians passed by selling everything under the sun and I bargained very hard for a scarf. I felt bad at the low price I got b/c the state of affairs is very grim for many. I gave all of my food away as we were walking through Cairo. You can't help everybody. We ended the night with a tea and shisha on a beautiful hill overlooking all of Cairo. We drove past the citadel on our way up and down. The minarets and spires of the thousands of mosques on the Cairo skyline was truly dazzling.
That night, Ed and I went for Italian food in the ex-pat part of town on an island in the middle of the Nile, which was delicious. We found a way to buy a bottle of wine and left to find a place to drink it. Not allowed in the restaurant. We explored a beautiful ancient house with an open door to try to get to the roof, but no access. I saw a sign that said "apartment for rent for foreigners" and a man sitting near the sign inquired if I was interested. We proceeded to check out what an apartment in Cairo was like for 3000 egyptian pounds. We walked forever and he asked several doormen along the way in several apartments something and turned around to take us to the next place. Eventually, we found two vacancies and they were both dives with giant furniture and tiny windows. We carried on to the Nile and went into a glitzy bar/restaurant that reminded me of Miami. The prices were outrageous and we had no cash, so we walked on to find an ATM and a different option. We met several felucca captains and arranged to have a one hour tour for 50 pounds (about $10USD). We passed a private club where a wedding party entered and they invited us in. We carried on to town where there were cafes and rich egyptians and expats having coffees and shisas al fresco. We found an atm, bought some chocolate pastries and went back in the direction from whence we'd come. There were weddings in every river club and restaurant and park and giant feluccas were sailing past with egyptians dancing and celebrating with the bridal couple. We entered the club to find the couple that invited us in. The doorguy begrudgingly let us enter for 'two minutes only' and told us where the party was. We entered and just kindof observed the couple on the stage smiling out at the dancing crowd. Then, a man whispered into the ear of the groom and they both looked at us and the man called us over, smiling. We took pictures with them at their request, then the crowd pulled us on to the dance floor and everyone was snapping our photos and requesting dances - kids, old people, men, women. Ed kept saying we needed to leave b/c we were stealing the attention from the bride and groom and I kept saying we had to leave b/c security was going to come for us. But the crowd would not let us out of the circle. We had no choice but to keep dancing! We were finally pulled out of the crowd by the door man who was laughing and smiling while saying we weren't allowed. Imagine our surprise when we walked a bit farther up the road and saw a different wedding party in the same club dancing outside. THIS was the couple that invited us in. So, we actually crashed someone's wedding and they were as warm and welcoming as anyone I've ever met! We went for the felucca ride with red wine and chocolate - we paid the captain extra baksheesh for the illegality of the action - and toured around gorgeous Cairo with its towering lights on one side and the luxury villas of the embassies on the island. It was really romantic as we sat there taking it all in, side by side, as mates. The word that came to mind was "captivating" and Ed agreed. I fell absolutely in love with Cairo and finally understood a line in a book I read: "When you first arrive in Cairo, you can't wait to leave. When you finally leave Cairo, you can't wait to come back."
We tipped the captain and walked along to find some live music. I asked a tall Egyptian man with funky glasses whether he worked at a nightclub with live music and he said "yes." He was a sound engineer and took us for free to the swankiest club in all of Cairo. A famous Egyptian singer would be performing that evening (morning, actually, 4 am) and he kept tryign to tell us we should come back later, but we decided to stay and check the progress of the evening. We had one prohibitively expensive cocktail, then switched to tea and shisha. What transpired was weird. The DJ was incredible; truly one of the best I've ever heard. Only women danced and they were clearly prostitutes but incredible belly dancers in their tight jeans and tank tops. Every once in a while, a song would play in an arbic language and the men would come out and sing and dance. They clearly were gay, but since homosexuality is illegal, they weren't. No one was allowed to touch anyone else, but the indications were pretty darn stark! Then, it became crowded with people from Saudi Arabia and Quatar and Morocco. The Egyptian singer and band walked out onto the dance floor dressed in white galabeas and the picnic-looking head scarves of a sheik and sang while walking between the dancers. Men would say something in his ear while he was singing then throw giant wads of cash into the sky. Five men in white shirts had the job of picking up the bills. No one else touched them. There were giant body guards dressed in black suits that held up their hands to keep me from coming too close to who knows who on the dance floor (I danced once) and otherwise watched the women dancing at a very uncomfortable range. The rich men continued to throw money as they danced in increments of 50 pounds as Ed and I gasped in astonishment. I asked the bathroom attendant why they did this: "Because they are Crazy - not from Egypt - crazy people!" she said.
Mohammed, our friend that we met on the street, later told us that they were sons of oil sheiks and danced like this every night. They collected 30,000 pounds in this manner that evening = split evenly between the singer and the house. We finally left at 5 in the morning when the singing had ended. It was wild!
Mohammed had invited us to his house for lunch, so Ed picked me up at 1 pm for a 3pm lunch. We hopped in a cab with Mohammed and for about an hour to a suburb outside the citadel. Mohammed lives like so many Egyptians in a shoddy high rise apartment next to dozens of other shoddy high rise apartments. We arrived on the top floor to a clean and elegant little place with big furniture and a wailing baby boy. His son is 1.6 and a beautiful little boy. His wife came out blushing with a headscarf and said "hello." She spoke no English. Nonetheless, she took me into her bedroom and gave me egyptian kohl eyes and wrapped my head in my scarf in the muslim fashion. She was very sweet and said "I love you very much" as she insisted I take a plastic pearl necklace as a gift. We viewed photos of their family and life and played with their son while waiting for her fasting period to pass before eating. During Ramadan, she couldn't pray for four days due to her period and was now catching up. At 5:30, she served us a delicious Egyptian feast which she took four hours to prepare. We talked about the repression of Egyptians and rituals of islam. They were a truly kind couple. We were very lucky to have such an expose into Egyptian life.
On our way back to the hotel, we stopped at the same hill overlooking Cairo and I got to say goodbye to this incredible city. I jokingly kissed Ed on the cheek, to which the driver with his ever watchful eye exclaimed. Mohammed immediately told me "Kyra, please don't kiss Ed - the driver has requested." Islam. I made a special point to smile, make direct eye contact with the driver and say goodbye to him when I got out of the cab. He smiled back and I wondered if he thought I was a demon. Likely. Ed and Mohammed carried on and I returned to the hotel to pack and go to the airport. At the airport, I had two men pull a scam that they could help me get through the lines faster. I knew it was unnecessary, but gave both of them backsheesh of 20 ponds each. I generously tipped the bathroom attendant as well. When I realized I didn't have enough pounds to get a cup of coffee, the service guy said I could have it for free. So I gave him the rest of my money as a tip ( 7 pounds, but 12 pounds for a cup of coffee). He smiled very large and so did I. I love Egypt.
And now I'm back in India. In Goa...I am unfazed by crazy traffic, cows, leering men, substandard accomodation, veiled women and the overall bizarreness of India. It's nice to be back. Really nice. Astshti
Friday, September 26, 2008
Sweetness in the Belly
I spent today online downloading travel documents and buying supplies in Delhi for my trip to Egypt tomorrow. It's funny - I feel so at home in India that I want to make sure I transact all of my e-business and purchase of toiletries here. Chances are Egypt is every bit as e-resourceful and western consumer oriented. But, one never knows until one goes. All I know is that I really like India. A lot. Things continue to unfurl in a lyrical wave of motion and movement: unbroken wholeness in flowing movement, indeed!
So, a while ago, friends from Leh who owned La Pizzeria offered me a free beach shack if I'd teach yoga at their new resort/restaurant in Mandrem Beach, Goa. I said maybe, but thought not, b/c I imagined Goa to be a party place. Then, I looked into it and found it to be idyllic, peaceful and beautiful. I have really been missing the water in my travels. I also miss a rigorous yoga routine and want to study a bit more. What do you know? I looked at the only yoga school near Mandrem and they have a teacher training course from 10/19-11/16 and it's vinyasa, ashtanga, dancing, creative arts, bhakti...in short, all the stuff I love - on the beach! So, I applied with a hopeful wish and a chant to Ganesh and whoopdeedoo I was offered the last slot - a walk in slot - that is perfect for me b/c I'll live in the beach shack nearby. Kismet coalesces again! (BTW, my spelling skills are clearly atrophying as I can't remember how to spell "coalesce," but you know what I mean...) Thank you, India! The teacher training url is here:
http://www.yogagoaindia.com/yoga_teacher_training.php
On either 10/18 or hopefully 10/17, I fly straight from Cairo to Bombay to Goa to make it in time. Phew! I'm really looking forward to a dedicated practice again. I wanted one more teachers training or a serious ashram stint to conclude the India tour. Now it will be complete and blissful. That is the future. Now, back to the past: Rajastan - also complete and blissful.
We left rainy Mt. Abu and headed for Jodhpur. I wanted to skip this city. I'm glad I didn't. I stayed at Yogi's guest house. Yogi is a young Indian guy who lived two years in San Francisco. We have a bunch of mutual friends - my international party pals of whom Ben, the DJ inBangkok who I first stayed with on this journey, is a part. Small world. Yogi explained that he has an entire warehouse full of Rajastani furniture in CA waiting to be sold. Throughout Rajastan, I've repeatedly found myself saying "perhaps I should become a buyer or an interior designer, specializing in India and Mughal design" b/c I take pictures like crazy of color combinations, architectural detail and rich tapestries by the hundred. The stuff just fascinates me. As if I had a light on my head indicating the same, one out of every three shopkeepers or hoteliers would ask me if I was in the design business. Of course, they all thought I was french, too, but that only adds to this fantasy, right? Anyway, when Yogi said this and further explained that his friend in CA is a trusted friend who has handled the matter thus far, but works too hard as an engineer, my interest prongs went up. I postponed my departure from Jodphur for a few hours so I could see his warehouse. The furniture is unique, beautiful, distinctive, custom designed and cheap! This is a real possibility. Yogi also took me to Maharani something-or-other that makes textiles and fabrics. They create fabrics used by Hermes, Versace, etc. and they are gorgeous! I splurged on a silver and golden woven tapestry made in the 17C Mughal style that reminds me of Klimt's 'The Kiss' and wanted to swim in the gorgeous miles and miles of fabric! Now, I have two very solid contacts if I do this business. An interesting prospect, indeed.
We drove through Jaisalmer, stopping at a lovely palace on the water, and on to Sam Desert National Park in time for sunset. We settled into one of the luxury tent villages and for 1800 rupees (I usually pay 300 rupees max for a room), I got two camel rides (sunset and sunrise), dinner, a cultural performance, a tent w/toilet and shower (bucket water) and breakfast. The best deal I could find.
I invited Kalyan to hop on the back of the camel for the sunset ride and he was elated as this was his first time. He was terrified and made little sounds the entire time. He's very funny! We hopped off atop a sand dune and the gypsy dancers who were following us did a song and dance on the dunes as the sun set behind them. The dunes were small, but lovely. Tourists had spilled out on camels by the busload, so the place was crowded with tourists, gypsies, camels and muslim camel riders in turbans and long flowing white garments. There were also beatles and the little tracks they made across the sand were every bit as intricate and decadent as the mughal motifs adorning the palaces of Rajastan.
We returned for tea and dinner, after which the resident Gypsy troupe of three sisters did a dance replete with spinning, clanging bells, dark eyes, brilliant uniforms and graceful moves including brass bowls balancing on one beautiful lady's head, walking on nails and hopping along inside a bowl with said brass bowls balancing on her head. The muslim band sang and played traditional instruments. I was the only westerner at the camp along with two Indian families who looked at me with pity in their eyes as I sat for the performance. Shortly after the performance began, a group of young, hipsters joined the group - they looked Italian in style, but they were Indian. The young daughter of one of the families pulled my hand up to dance with her and the gypsies in the usual touristish bit where the audience dances with the performers. She said during a graceful turn: "that man is a famous bollywood actor - he's on tv." They were all joining us as we danced around the fire. Their moves were good - typical Bollywood. You ever know what can happen in India. Dancing with Bollywood and gypsies around a desert camp? Who knew?
After dinner, I asked if they were from Bombay and asked for suggestions as to where to go. Asif Basra, the actor, gave me his e-mail and cell phone number and an invitation to explore the set with him to see what a day was like. "You can even perhaps get a small part if you're interested," he said. Perhaps. The rest of his pals wrote their cell phone numbers after I told them that I loved Royal Enfields and rode on the back of one across Nepal and throughout Leh. They have a bike club, you see...it's an Enfield thing. They immediately to tout me around Bombay on their bikes when I arrive. I feel very fortunate to have a band of Bollywood crew ready to roll when I hit Bombay. Perhaps the film will roll, too. Asif made a file about a westerner travelling in India, a love story of India, called "Outsourced." I'd like to see it. The gents left to their camp in the dunes and I pulled my bed out of the stifling tent under the stars for a sweet, desert sleep.
The next morning, I went for the sunrise camel safari. It was peaceful and calm and quiet. There was only one other camel out on the dunes. I was alone with the young camel driver. We ran through the dunes for quite some time and spotted a deer. I felt bad for the guy, as this was his only income and he was sweet and innocent. I tipped him 500 rupees just b/c I felt like being very, very generous. The look on his face was priceless - he was beyond thrilled. As soon as we returned to camp, he ran to the others and told them.
Shortly thereafter, the owner, Karim, shouted to me on his way out: "Kyra, you are family now. You have made my cousin very happy. We hope you do not leave. Stay here as my guest, pay what you'd like. And I said "300 rupees?" to which he responded "yes, please stay with us." "You are family." So, I decided to stay another night and see what life in the desert was like. It was hot and boring. The resident gypsies came out of their tents and they tried to show me how to balance the bowls on my head - useless. I braided the youngest gypsy's (about 11 years old) hair and then the beautiful leader asked me to braid hers, too. Kalu, the owner's younger brother (a little older than me), invited me to go to the larger sand dunes about 5 kms away on his motorcyle. I suggested that we take the three gypsy women and Kalu in the a/c car instead. We did. The gypsies and Kalyan sat under the shade of a bush while Kalyan and I walked to the highest dune and chatted in the sun. I covered my head with a scarf and felt very muslim. He told me that he had many western friends and I was like a man to him - part of the family - and not to worry - he could be trusted. Okay. I said I was hot, he stood up and beckoned to me "Come!" and I felt even more muslim as I followed behind him back to the car. When we returned to camp, Karim was there. He professed his undying love to me and asked that I stay as his wife. I politely declined. I later confirmed with Kalyan that Kalyan would sleep somewhere close to my tent. Kalu offered to show me a woman's life (I'd previously said I wanted to know where the women were in India as I never interact with them) and took me to the tent village next door. The women were constructing a wall and we cooed as we petted eachother's clothes and looked at nails, jewelry and eyes. They braided my hair. They asked for chocolate. What woman anywhere in the world doesn't love chocolate? A common bond.
That night, the gypsy girl came to my tent and pulled my hand to her tent. They were getting ready for the night's festivities and put gypsy makeup on me, including kohl eyeliner and glitter. It reminded me of Burning man. We were giggling and having lots of fun being girly and glitzy. They selected an outfit from my comparatively dull wardrobe and cooed as I left for the sand dunes. In the dunes, the Indian men stared at me and the gypsies from the previous night squealed and hugged me in delight as they exclaimed in their native tongue while looking at my sparkling face and dark eyes. We walked to a high dune and were entertained again by another troupe of gypsies. That night, dozens of Indian executives were hamming it up while the gypsies were dancing. The party went on all night. Kalu took us out to the dunes and we slept there. Kalu left and picked us up in the morning. He was angry at Kalyan for sleeping out there with me b/c he wanted to stay with me. Kalyan told him he had no respect. I didn't hear any of this until later. I'm so glad Kalyan was with me. The sand dunes were quiet and lovely - it was very calm and sandy to wake up at sunset and there were little tiny fox footprints next to my head in the sand. I gave the gypsies some clothes, a bra, bubbles and blistex. They gave me a set of colorful bindis and a barrett. The whole camp lined up outside the car as we left and waved until we were out of sight. Both Karim and Kalu have since called me and expressed "I want you." Thank God Kalyan was with me!
We passed through Jaisalmer and I took a tour of the city with another scam artist commission tour guide while Kalyan relaxed in the car. I had Mueslix at a restaurant that was actually puffed rice. When I pointed out that this wasn't mueslix, he said "it's jaisalmer mueslix" - touche. That's what I get for bringing my western notions to India. Good remider. We drove on to Bikaner that night. We saw the fort swelling with Bikaner pride, had a thali, then visited a Disneyized temple with a giant lion's mouth opening up to a giant Ganesh. On either side of the lion's head was a Kali figure and a Hanuman figure. It was just there - on the side of the road - giant cartoon deities larger than life. India is crazy and full of surprises!
That night, a fierce wind and rain storm blew trees across the road as we drove to Mandawa. Of course Kalyan, who stops for chipmunks, stopped the car until it was welll past. Although he's a gentlemen, Kalyan belches openly b/c all men in India do - they never say excuse me and I never get used to it. On our way, we saw two foxes, a herd of deer and two peacocks. A little safari. That night we arrived in the haveli-filled town of Mandawa. The hotel was filled with construction workers who were erecting a Bollywood set for a film to be shot the following month. I was surrounded by men in the lobby and felt just a little bit the minority in color, culture and gender. Whatever. I went to my room and didn't come back out until morning.
The next day, the tour guide touted the cleanliness of Mandawa (due to a small population) as he threw a candy wrapper onto the littered road and spat thereon. He and Kalyan shared a love of singing and during lunch, I heard many a bollywood tune with wagging heads and swooning eyes. This guide spoke six languages - he was very smart - yet he bragged about how good looking he was and how tough he and his friends were as he grabbed his groin and spat. Charming. We visited a school of darling children. We sang the Gayatri Mantra together and I taught them 'The Morning Song' from my preschool days. On the roof, the headmaster pulled a branch off the Neem tree and showed me how to brush my teeth. It was sour, but he promised it would get better after 10 days. I donated another 500 rupees to this destitute school filled with bright minds and a charming headmaster. Not your typical city tour. I liked it. We saw a palmist in one place who told me I should've married at 30, but that just means when I do marry, it will last longer (20 years, to be precise - then he'll divorce or die) and I will marry very soon (to a man who wears something other than a watch on his left wrist). He also told me I will become more genuine in personality and consciousness now. Good news on both fronts. I'm ready. A circus girl on a tightrope picked her nose as she performed (everyone picks there nose here - even when chatting with buddies). I explored several private havelis and hotels and took many, many photos b/c I just loved the color, architecture and design. This really may be a new career for me.
That night, we changed hotels and I splurged on a super romantic Maharani (queen) room that was painted with royal scenes of princesses and queens in nature and at court in golds and reds. It was opulent and splendid and super romantic. Of course, I was alone. I wanted to get away from the swarming men of the other hotel. But, I felt like celebrating my femininity and treating myself to something nice and romantic. The room was so beautiful that it took my breath away. Very special. At dinner, I explained a little to Kalyan about my liberal lifestyle as a teenager and he was utterly shocked. He is very innocent. I realized how much of myself I gave away or numbed without any feeling or consideration for the person that I was. It made me a bit sad. I thought perhaps India has a better way by preserving one's virtue and innocence until marriage. There's something very real about it. Then again, my life has been fun, although not too meaningful or full of self-respect. I woke up feeling anxious and lonely. Then I reminded myself of how fortunate I was to be here at all - even if alone - perhaps fortunate b/c I was alone. Whatever. However. It's beautiful to be me. Here. Now. And I'm grateful.
We left the next morning for Jaipur. Kalyan played my favorite Indian morning song - Jai Ram - and I swooned as we passed farmers in bright saris and turbans with their animals living so calmly in this beautiful land. I love India. We passed a camel fair and I asked Kalya to stop. We walked in and explored the fair. It was the last day of one week where 10,000 camels, yaks, cows and (some) horses had been sold. A vendor showed me the camel nose rings he had for sale; another the bells he had for sale; another man invited me to see his camels and take a photo of him preparing his lunch. I did. I was surrounded by men in the camel industry. I saw only two other women present during the fair. We had chai, tried some pakoras and generally relaxed and shot photos with the people there. It was very calm. I got used to men just staring and following wherever I go. It didn't bother me. One of the men asked if I wanted a ride on his camel cart. We got on and after circling the entire area, he dropped us off at the road where our car was. We shot more photos and he shot me the hugest smile this side of the Indus. It was very sweet. Only in India.
We returned to Jaipur and Kalyan was elated b/c he was so close to home. His singing and dancing increased. He danced like mad with the gypsies and the executive Indian men in Sam Desert. He's quite talented. He's been offered a spot on the "Explore India" tour in Russia for his Rajastani singing and animal sounds. I hope the tour will make it to CA someday. I told him he always has me as his sister there to show him around. I mean it. He's a really special guy. I'm very lucky to have had such a person as a guide, bodyguard, driver, entertainer, spiritual cohort and friend. Thank you, India! After errands including the post office and the bank, we made it to Tiger Fort (a palace fort built for nine queens - very feminine) for a final tour and the sunset with a beer. It was a lovely way to say goodbye to Rajastan and to Kalyan.
The next day, I saw the Wind Palace, Hawa Mahal and did a little bangle and pashmina shopping. The shopkeeper, Ajay, gave me incredible deals and offered me gifts, lunch, a movie, etc. He wants to meet me when I return from Egypt. I asked what for. He said friendship. Friendship here means being lovers. I'm not interested. I told him that. He was very persistent and very sweet. I accepted his gifts of a free scarf and a leh of fragrant flowers. Then, I left as he swooned. This place is full of die-hard romantics.
I ate a giant thali just before getting on the train and stocked up on water, bananas and chocolate for the journey. I was full as a tick. Little did I realize that my first class ticket included food and drink service (including veg thali, bananas, chocolate, water, plus, plus, plus) - none of which I could eat. I took stuff I could save and put it in my purse to give to pour people. I'm sure the Indian man next to me thought I was a kook. Whatever. When we stopped at a station, it was littered with people lying on the platform. I almost threw my food to the people, but realized they were simply waiting for the train. They weren't homeless. Sometimes, it's hard to tell. It just goes to show how culturally insensitive I can still be even though I've been here for a while. I have been relatively isolated and protected with Kalyan, even though I was often the only westerner around. Now, I'm back to being solo and immersed in India (see today's blog about my visit to the toilet museum). It's sweet as can be and my whole self is filled with gratitude and the chaos, romance and surprises of India. A book I once read called love "sweetness in the belly." I can honestly then say that I love India.
My solo love affair with India will have to wait until November, however. I fly to Egypt tomorrow for one week on the beach and then join a two week tour. Something about Egypt calls me. I don't know why. I'll return to India 10/17 or 10/18 then rush down to Goa for a month long teacher's training. Then....??? I'd really like to see my old highschool cohort Freeman who lives in Pune now. Why did he move here? Does he have that sweetness in the belly, too? Why? The plot continues to unfurl...
So, a while ago, friends from Leh who owned La Pizzeria offered me a free beach shack if I'd teach yoga at their new resort/restaurant in Mandrem Beach, Goa. I said maybe, but thought not, b/c I imagined Goa to be a party place. Then, I looked into it and found it to be idyllic, peaceful and beautiful. I have really been missing the water in my travels. I also miss a rigorous yoga routine and want to study a bit more. What do you know? I looked at the only yoga school near Mandrem and they have a teacher training course from 10/19-11/16 and it's vinyasa, ashtanga, dancing, creative arts, bhakti...in short, all the stuff I love - on the beach! So, I applied with a hopeful wish and a chant to Ganesh and whoopdeedoo I was offered the last slot - a walk in slot - that is perfect for me b/c I'll live in the beach shack nearby. Kismet coalesces again! (BTW, my spelling skills are clearly atrophying as I can't remember how to spell "coalesce," but you know what I mean...) Thank you, India! The teacher training url is here:
http://www.yogagoaindia.com/yoga_teacher_training.php
On either 10/18 or hopefully 10/17, I fly straight from Cairo to Bombay to Goa to make it in time. Phew! I'm really looking forward to a dedicated practice again. I wanted one more teachers training or a serious ashram stint to conclude the India tour. Now it will be complete and blissful. That is the future. Now, back to the past: Rajastan - also complete and blissful.
We left rainy Mt. Abu and headed for Jodhpur. I wanted to skip this city. I'm glad I didn't. I stayed at Yogi's guest house. Yogi is a young Indian guy who lived two years in San Francisco. We have a bunch of mutual friends - my international party pals of whom Ben, the DJ inBangkok who I first stayed with on this journey, is a part. Small world. Yogi explained that he has an entire warehouse full of Rajastani furniture in CA waiting to be sold. Throughout Rajastan, I've repeatedly found myself saying "perhaps I should become a buyer or an interior designer, specializing in India and Mughal design" b/c I take pictures like crazy of color combinations, architectural detail and rich tapestries by the hundred. The stuff just fascinates me. As if I had a light on my head indicating the same, one out of every three shopkeepers or hoteliers would ask me if I was in the design business. Of course, they all thought I was french, too, but that only adds to this fantasy, right? Anyway, when Yogi said this and further explained that his friend in CA is a trusted friend who has handled the matter thus far, but works too hard as an engineer, my interest prongs went up. I postponed my departure from Jodphur for a few hours so I could see his warehouse. The furniture is unique, beautiful, distinctive, custom designed and cheap! This is a real possibility. Yogi also took me to Maharani something-or-other that makes textiles and fabrics. They create fabrics used by Hermes, Versace, etc. and they are gorgeous! I splurged on a silver and golden woven tapestry made in the 17C Mughal style that reminds me of Klimt's 'The Kiss' and wanted to swim in the gorgeous miles and miles of fabric! Now, I have two very solid contacts if I do this business. An interesting prospect, indeed.
We drove through Jaisalmer, stopping at a lovely palace on the water, and on to Sam Desert National Park in time for sunset. We settled into one of the luxury tent villages and for 1800 rupees (I usually pay 300 rupees max for a room), I got two camel rides (sunset and sunrise), dinner, a cultural performance, a tent w/toilet and shower (bucket water) and breakfast. The best deal I could find.
I invited Kalyan to hop on the back of the camel for the sunset ride and he was elated as this was his first time. He was terrified and made little sounds the entire time. He's very funny! We hopped off atop a sand dune and the gypsy dancers who were following us did a song and dance on the dunes as the sun set behind them. The dunes were small, but lovely. Tourists had spilled out on camels by the busload, so the place was crowded with tourists, gypsies, camels and muslim camel riders in turbans and long flowing white garments. There were also beatles and the little tracks they made across the sand were every bit as intricate and decadent as the mughal motifs adorning the palaces of Rajastan.
We returned for tea and dinner, after which the resident Gypsy troupe of three sisters did a dance replete with spinning, clanging bells, dark eyes, brilliant uniforms and graceful moves including brass bowls balancing on one beautiful lady's head, walking on nails and hopping along inside a bowl with said brass bowls balancing on her head. The muslim band sang and played traditional instruments. I was the only westerner at the camp along with two Indian families who looked at me with pity in their eyes as I sat for the performance. Shortly after the performance began, a group of young, hipsters joined the group - they looked Italian in style, but they were Indian. The young daughter of one of the families pulled my hand up to dance with her and the gypsies in the usual touristish bit where the audience dances with the performers. She said during a graceful turn: "that man is a famous bollywood actor - he's on tv." They were all joining us as we danced around the fire. Their moves were good - typical Bollywood. You ever know what can happen in India. Dancing with Bollywood and gypsies around a desert camp? Who knew?
After dinner, I asked if they were from Bombay and asked for suggestions as to where to go. Asif Basra, the actor, gave me his e-mail and cell phone number and an invitation to explore the set with him to see what a day was like. "You can even perhaps get a small part if you're interested," he said. Perhaps. The rest of his pals wrote their cell phone numbers after I told them that I loved Royal Enfields and rode on the back of one across Nepal and throughout Leh. They have a bike club, you see...it's an Enfield thing. They immediately to tout me around Bombay on their bikes when I arrive. I feel very fortunate to have a band of Bollywood crew ready to roll when I hit Bombay. Perhaps the film will roll, too. Asif made a file about a westerner travelling in India, a love story of India, called "Outsourced." I'd like to see it. The gents left to their camp in the dunes and I pulled my bed out of the stifling tent under the stars for a sweet, desert sleep.
The next morning, I went for the sunrise camel safari. It was peaceful and calm and quiet. There was only one other camel out on the dunes. I was alone with the young camel driver. We ran through the dunes for quite some time and spotted a deer. I felt bad for the guy, as this was his only income and he was sweet and innocent. I tipped him 500 rupees just b/c I felt like being very, very generous. The look on his face was priceless - he was beyond thrilled. As soon as we returned to camp, he ran to the others and told them.
Shortly thereafter, the owner, Karim, shouted to me on his way out: "Kyra, you are family now. You have made my cousin very happy. We hope you do not leave. Stay here as my guest, pay what you'd like. And I said "300 rupees?" to which he responded "yes, please stay with us." "You are family." So, I decided to stay another night and see what life in the desert was like. It was hot and boring. The resident gypsies came out of their tents and they tried to show me how to balance the bowls on my head - useless. I braided the youngest gypsy's (about 11 years old) hair and then the beautiful leader asked me to braid hers, too. Kalu, the owner's younger brother (a little older than me), invited me to go to the larger sand dunes about 5 kms away on his motorcyle. I suggested that we take the three gypsy women and Kalu in the a/c car instead. We did. The gypsies and Kalyan sat under the shade of a bush while Kalyan and I walked to the highest dune and chatted in the sun. I covered my head with a scarf and felt very muslim. He told me that he had many western friends and I was like a man to him - part of the family - and not to worry - he could be trusted. Okay. I said I was hot, he stood up and beckoned to me "Come!" and I felt even more muslim as I followed behind him back to the car. When we returned to camp, Karim was there. He professed his undying love to me and asked that I stay as his wife. I politely declined. I later confirmed with Kalyan that Kalyan would sleep somewhere close to my tent. Kalu offered to show me a woman's life (I'd previously said I wanted to know where the women were in India as I never interact with them) and took me to the tent village next door. The women were constructing a wall and we cooed as we petted eachother's clothes and looked at nails, jewelry and eyes. They braided my hair. They asked for chocolate. What woman anywhere in the world doesn't love chocolate? A common bond.
That night, the gypsy girl came to my tent and pulled my hand to her tent. They were getting ready for the night's festivities and put gypsy makeup on me, including kohl eyeliner and glitter. It reminded me of Burning man. We were giggling and having lots of fun being girly and glitzy. They selected an outfit from my comparatively dull wardrobe and cooed as I left for the sand dunes. In the dunes, the Indian men stared at me and the gypsies from the previous night squealed and hugged me in delight as they exclaimed in their native tongue while looking at my sparkling face and dark eyes. We walked to a high dune and were entertained again by another troupe of gypsies. That night, dozens of Indian executives were hamming it up while the gypsies were dancing. The party went on all night. Kalu took us out to the dunes and we slept there. Kalu left and picked us up in the morning. He was angry at Kalyan for sleeping out there with me b/c he wanted to stay with me. Kalyan told him he had no respect. I didn't hear any of this until later. I'm so glad Kalyan was with me. The sand dunes were quiet and lovely - it was very calm and sandy to wake up at sunset and there were little tiny fox footprints next to my head in the sand. I gave the gypsies some clothes, a bra, bubbles and blistex. They gave me a set of colorful bindis and a barrett. The whole camp lined up outside the car as we left and waved until we were out of sight. Both Karim and Kalu have since called me and expressed "I want you." Thank God Kalyan was with me!
We passed through Jaisalmer and I took a tour of the city with another scam artist commission tour guide while Kalyan relaxed in the car. I had Mueslix at a restaurant that was actually puffed rice. When I pointed out that this wasn't mueslix, he said "it's jaisalmer mueslix" - touche. That's what I get for bringing my western notions to India. Good remider. We drove on to Bikaner that night. We saw the fort swelling with Bikaner pride, had a thali, then visited a Disneyized temple with a giant lion's mouth opening up to a giant Ganesh. On either side of the lion's head was a Kali figure and a Hanuman figure. It was just there - on the side of the road - giant cartoon deities larger than life. India is crazy and full of surprises!
That night, a fierce wind and rain storm blew trees across the road as we drove to Mandawa. Of course Kalyan, who stops for chipmunks, stopped the car until it was welll past. Although he's a gentlemen, Kalyan belches openly b/c all men in India do - they never say excuse me and I never get used to it. On our way, we saw two foxes, a herd of deer and two peacocks. A little safari. That night we arrived in the haveli-filled town of Mandawa. The hotel was filled with construction workers who were erecting a Bollywood set for a film to be shot the following month. I was surrounded by men in the lobby and felt just a little bit the minority in color, culture and gender. Whatever. I went to my room and didn't come back out until morning.
The next day, the tour guide touted the cleanliness of Mandawa (due to a small population) as he threw a candy wrapper onto the littered road and spat thereon. He and Kalyan shared a love of singing and during lunch, I heard many a bollywood tune with wagging heads and swooning eyes. This guide spoke six languages - he was very smart - yet he bragged about how good looking he was and how tough he and his friends were as he grabbed his groin and spat. Charming. We visited a school of darling children. We sang the Gayatri Mantra together and I taught them 'The Morning Song' from my preschool days. On the roof, the headmaster pulled a branch off the Neem tree and showed me how to brush my teeth. It was sour, but he promised it would get better after 10 days. I donated another 500 rupees to this destitute school filled with bright minds and a charming headmaster. Not your typical city tour. I liked it. We saw a palmist in one place who told me I should've married at 30, but that just means when I do marry, it will last longer (20 years, to be precise - then he'll divorce or die) and I will marry very soon (to a man who wears something other than a watch on his left wrist). He also told me I will become more genuine in personality and consciousness now. Good news on both fronts. I'm ready. A circus girl on a tightrope picked her nose as she performed (everyone picks there nose here - even when chatting with buddies). I explored several private havelis and hotels and took many, many photos b/c I just loved the color, architecture and design. This really may be a new career for me.
That night, we changed hotels and I splurged on a super romantic Maharani (queen) room that was painted with royal scenes of princesses and queens in nature and at court in golds and reds. It was opulent and splendid and super romantic. Of course, I was alone. I wanted to get away from the swarming men of the other hotel. But, I felt like celebrating my femininity and treating myself to something nice and romantic. The room was so beautiful that it took my breath away. Very special. At dinner, I explained a little to Kalyan about my liberal lifestyle as a teenager and he was utterly shocked. He is very innocent. I realized how much of myself I gave away or numbed without any feeling or consideration for the person that I was. It made me a bit sad. I thought perhaps India has a better way by preserving one's virtue and innocence until marriage. There's something very real about it. Then again, my life has been fun, although not too meaningful or full of self-respect. I woke up feeling anxious and lonely. Then I reminded myself of how fortunate I was to be here at all - even if alone - perhaps fortunate b/c I was alone. Whatever. However. It's beautiful to be me. Here. Now. And I'm grateful.
We left the next morning for Jaipur. Kalyan played my favorite Indian morning song - Jai Ram - and I swooned as we passed farmers in bright saris and turbans with their animals living so calmly in this beautiful land. I love India. We passed a camel fair and I asked Kalya to stop. We walked in and explored the fair. It was the last day of one week where 10,000 camels, yaks, cows and (some) horses had been sold. A vendor showed me the camel nose rings he had for sale; another the bells he had for sale; another man invited me to see his camels and take a photo of him preparing his lunch. I did. I was surrounded by men in the camel industry. I saw only two other women present during the fair. We had chai, tried some pakoras and generally relaxed and shot photos with the people there. It was very calm. I got used to men just staring and following wherever I go. It didn't bother me. One of the men asked if I wanted a ride on his camel cart. We got on and after circling the entire area, he dropped us off at the road where our car was. We shot more photos and he shot me the hugest smile this side of the Indus. It was very sweet. Only in India.
We returned to Jaipur and Kalyan was elated b/c he was so close to home. His singing and dancing increased. He danced like mad with the gypsies and the executive Indian men in Sam Desert. He's quite talented. He's been offered a spot on the "Explore India" tour in Russia for his Rajastani singing and animal sounds. I hope the tour will make it to CA someday. I told him he always has me as his sister there to show him around. I mean it. He's a really special guy. I'm very lucky to have had such a person as a guide, bodyguard, driver, entertainer, spiritual cohort and friend. Thank you, India! After errands including the post office and the bank, we made it to Tiger Fort (a palace fort built for nine queens - very feminine) for a final tour and the sunset with a beer. It was a lovely way to say goodbye to Rajastan and to Kalyan.
The next day, I saw the Wind Palace, Hawa Mahal and did a little bangle and pashmina shopping. The shopkeeper, Ajay, gave me incredible deals and offered me gifts, lunch, a movie, etc. He wants to meet me when I return from Egypt. I asked what for. He said friendship. Friendship here means being lovers. I'm not interested. I told him that. He was very persistent and very sweet. I accepted his gifts of a free scarf and a leh of fragrant flowers. Then, I left as he swooned. This place is full of die-hard romantics.
I ate a giant thali just before getting on the train and stocked up on water, bananas and chocolate for the journey. I was full as a tick. Little did I realize that my first class ticket included food and drink service (including veg thali, bananas, chocolate, water, plus, plus, plus) - none of which I could eat. I took stuff I could save and put it in my purse to give to pour people. I'm sure the Indian man next to me thought I was a kook. Whatever. When we stopped at a station, it was littered with people lying on the platform. I almost threw my food to the people, but realized they were simply waiting for the train. They weren't homeless. Sometimes, it's hard to tell. It just goes to show how culturally insensitive I can still be even though I've been here for a while. I have been relatively isolated and protected with Kalyan, even though I was often the only westerner around. Now, I'm back to being solo and immersed in India (see today's blog about my visit to the toilet museum). It's sweet as can be and my whole self is filled with gratitude and the chaos, romance and surprises of India. A book I once read called love "sweetness in the belly." I can honestly then say that I love India.
My solo love affair with India will have to wait until November, however. I fly to Egypt tomorrow for one week on the beach and then join a two week tour. Something about Egypt calls me. I don't know why. I'll return to India 10/17 or 10/18 then rush down to Goa for a month long teacher's training. Then....??? I'd really like to see my old highschool cohort Freeman who lives in Pune now. Why did he move here? Does he have that sweetness in the belly, too? Why? The plot continues to unfurl...
Night Soil
Today, I took a rickshaw for an hour drive outside of Delhi for one purpose only: to visit the 'Sulabh International Museum of Toilets.' I figure in a city thousands of years of history and thousands of men openly urinating on any and every street corner, field and mountain at any time of day, plus an omnipresent struggle to find an operational and sanitary toilet, plus a constant wonder about what the Indians do if they don't use toilet paper, I should finally take a plunge right in to 4,500 years of the history of the toilet. Why not? I've seen dozens of museums, mosques, bazaars and temples - it's time to get back to the basics.
Little did I know that this museum was a part of a NGO called Sulabh International Social Service Organisation that has the objective of providing safe, sanitary and environmentally responsible toilets to the poor, disabled and elderly throughout the world. They have built millions of latrines around India and consequently sussed out a way to turn human feces into bio-gas (usages include electricity and inclusion in manure provides a great source of manure after about 1.6 years "fermenting" in a closed container as long as the moisture is sucked back into the soil through holes in the container - feces is 95% water). With my own eyes, I saw a lamp illuminate with 40-watt voltage, a gas fire of stones start so that stones could later be used for warmth hours after the fire went out, a fan start, a generator turn on, and gas stove boiling tea water (not urinary water). All of this came from the center's six thousand public toilets - one rupee per person - and one person produces 1 cubic foot of gas per day. There are over one billion people in India! That's a lot of gas, folks. They also figured out a way to make doorways out of feces mixed with dirt - it doesn't smell and is solid. There are some sculptures on display. But, I was far more impressed with the technology of shit. Perhaps I'm behind the times, but wow - what an eye opener this museum was! We can recycle waste in so many ways!
It doesn't stop at feces, though. They also turn urine into non-potable water that can be used for irrigation, agriculture and further flushing of toilets where water is scarce. The water has nitrogen and phosphate, so is great for agriculture. There are two ways. One: they simply funnel urine into a sedimentation tank for 30 minutes, let it sit in a sand filter, then add some air to it then add some carbon and let it get some sunlight....voila! Clear, usable water. Who knew? Two: they add duckweed to large vats of standing urine ("dirty pond"), the duckweed multiplies quickly as it sucks up the volatile compounds from the urine water. The water is then transferred to a different, cleaner pond. They then extract portions of the fat and porous duckweed from the dirty pond and place it in little fish pond containers in the clean pond. The proteins inside the duckweed are so potent, that fish grow to twice their original size by feeding on the duckweed. So there you have it! Our pee with duckweed and two ponds plus a fish farm can make fish much bigger. A beautiful spiral of recycling again! Who knew?
Of course, the museum of toilets contained fascinating information and exhibits for every kind of person.
For the sybarites: There are 300 plus types of toilet paper that can be seen at a special toilet paper museum in Madison, WI. Japan created a toilet for only $100 that at the touch of a keypad button either, cleans the bowl, blows either air or water 'up' and can provide a massage and air freshner. The Americans on the other hand have created a $2,000 electric toilet that burns excrement within two minutes to a mere 1 teaspoon of ash. The problem is of course a very high electric bill. The French aristocrats, King Louis XIV and used to hold meetings at night with their court while on the crapper. Apparently, the king took his dinner and meetings all night long sitting on the loo and "frequently excreted" until the pot was full, at which time the chamber pot was passed under the noses of those in attendance until the person closest to the door could empty it as a reminder of the King's (or their lowly) rank. Ben Affleck allegedly bought J Lo a $105,000 jewel encrusted toilet adorned with rubies, sapphires, pearls and diamonds. "Jennifer is my princess and she deserves only the best even whe it comes to toilets," he said on April 18, 2003. And the winner? The USA!! NASA bought a $19 million space toilet from Russia that includes straps, vaccums and a filter to convert urine to drinking water.
For the destitute and elderly: India is a poor country. If a village can't afford a 10,000 rupee toilet made of brick outhouses and concrete containers, there are options going all the way down to 1,000 rupees made of whitewashed jute outhouses and wood or clay containers. For the elderly who don't like to break the habit of going in the great outdoors, an open air spiral outhouse can be built so they don't feel suffocated and uncomfortable.
For the spiritualist: Sai Baba has the largest collection of toilets in India. The excrement of his disciples provides electricity to 30,000 people. Toilet ettiquette was addressed in the Manusmriti Vishnupuram in 1500 BC India. For married people: cover the head with a cloth. If a cloth is not available, roll a sacred threat and put on right ear, bring over head to hang on left ear. Observe silence. Face north during the day. Face south during the night. Don't touch water why defecating. Use left hand for cleaning and right for the bowl. For unmarried or celibate people: observe the married's rules twice more intensely. If a sain, observe four times more intensely than the married. All of these rules apply to daytime. If evening, frequency of wash reduced by half. If travelling, rules further reduced by half. If sick, observe rules per capacity. The Manusmriti Vishnupuram also had some ecological precautions: urinate 10 hands (meaning forearm to fingers) from the source of water. Defecate 100 hands from the source of water. And urinate 40 hands from a river or temple.
For the sybarites, artists and romantics: the art of defecation, termed "night soil" was the subject of Swift and Voltaire's musings, plus many a comedy through history (especially the dumping of chamber pots on unwitting victims - mostly in romantic comedies.) There are side by side toilets adjoined for lovers who can't bear to part. Some toilets are very creative. They are painted beautiful colors, designed as flowers (a San Franciscan is currently doing this) and hidden in chairs under cushions. The French built a toilet appears to be a pile of books - all with English titles on the books - how very French of them to desecrate the Brits.
For the naturalists: In Chiang Main, the thai elephant facility frequented by tourists has installed elephant sized human toilets and trained the elephants to sit on the toilets and relieve themselves in order to avoid unnecessary droppings around the facility. There is a portable toilet used for tents and websites that has biodegradable bags as a toilet. There is a new model that has a 3.5 foot tower with a fan on top that is both solar and wind powered for the flush. The toilets that the center is providing to Indians has two containers (only one in use at a time, while the other is fermenting) ensures that excrement containers are 1 meter away from another container b/c bacteria can only travel that far through soil. In case of a fire, occupants of a western toilet are advised to jump into the toilet and flush. The toilets that the center is providing to Indians uses only 2 liters of water, as opposed to the usual 10-12 to flush. The US still uses 10-12 in most cases.
For the historians: India claims to be the first to have sanitary toilets (2500 BC) in Harapa during the Indus Civilization. This technology was flushed away with the loss of the Indus Civilization. The first flushing toilet was created in 200 BC. In BC 33, Plinius claimed that urine has medicinal values. John Harrington, NOT John Crapper, created the first WC, i.e. water closet wherein "necessaries" were flushed into a sewage system, in 1596 AD. In the 18th and 19th century, Austrian Bucketmen and women used to stand around public places with a long coat and a bucket. For a small fee, a member of the public could conceal him/herself under the coat and relieve him/her self in the bucket. Believe it or not, there have been many such instances when I would have gladly payed for a Bucketwoman in India!
For the skeptic: Here's why this is interesting. The act of excretion, as one of the most fundamental processes of all life, requires much more attention that it has been accorded until now in order that we may enjoy healthy and pleasant lives. Think about it: how many times have you walked into a public toilet and almost vomited at the lack of sanitation? At least you have toilets in the US. In India and Nepal and other developing countries, a toilet is very, very hard to come by. I vividly remember the outhouses in Africa: they were so old and moist from years of bush rain that the wood morphed out of shape and would congeal when the door was shut. There was no form of waste removal and it was rank! In order to open the door for an escape, one had to take a deep breath and not panic that the door wouldn't open, and instead figure out the angle in which to push a certain portion of the door for an opening.
So, a toilet culture is a very good thing to have. The Museum of Toilets, with the Kobe Int'l Toilet Counsel aims for: 1) world health and sanitation for elderly, disabled and poor; 2) private and public faciities that are safe and clean; and 3) a source of global environmental solutions for overuse of paper and contaminated land and water and consequent disease irradication. The Counsel believes that overcoming these many issues requires an exchange of information, experience, technology and inter-disciplinary research on an international level.
So, in line with my bretheren and sisteren (sounds like cistern, doesn't it?), I hope that this blog has effectively created and promoted toilet culture to all you readers out there! Go night soil!!!
Little did I know that this museum was a part of a NGO called Sulabh International Social Service Organisation that has the objective of providing safe, sanitary and environmentally responsible toilets to the poor, disabled and elderly throughout the world. They have built millions of latrines around India and consequently sussed out a way to turn human feces into bio-gas (usages include electricity and inclusion in manure provides a great source of manure after about 1.6 years "fermenting" in a closed container as long as the moisture is sucked back into the soil through holes in the container - feces is 95% water). With my own eyes, I saw a lamp illuminate with 40-watt voltage, a gas fire of stones start so that stones could later be used for warmth hours after the fire went out, a fan start, a generator turn on, and gas stove boiling tea water (not urinary water). All of this came from the center's six thousand public toilets - one rupee per person - and one person produces 1 cubic foot of gas per day. There are over one billion people in India! That's a lot of gas, folks. They also figured out a way to make doorways out of feces mixed with dirt - it doesn't smell and is solid. There are some sculptures on display. But, I was far more impressed with the technology of shit. Perhaps I'm behind the times, but wow - what an eye opener this museum was! We can recycle waste in so many ways!
It doesn't stop at feces, though. They also turn urine into non-potable water that can be used for irrigation, agriculture and further flushing of toilets where water is scarce. The water has nitrogen and phosphate, so is great for agriculture. There are two ways. One: they simply funnel urine into a sedimentation tank for 30 minutes, let it sit in a sand filter, then add some air to it then add some carbon and let it get some sunlight....voila! Clear, usable water. Who knew? Two: they add duckweed to large vats of standing urine ("dirty pond"), the duckweed multiplies quickly as it sucks up the volatile compounds from the urine water. The water is then transferred to a different, cleaner pond. They then extract portions of the fat and porous duckweed from the dirty pond and place it in little fish pond containers in the clean pond. The proteins inside the duckweed are so potent, that fish grow to twice their original size by feeding on the duckweed. So there you have it! Our pee with duckweed and two ponds plus a fish farm can make fish much bigger. A beautiful spiral of recycling again! Who knew?
Of course, the museum of toilets contained fascinating information and exhibits for every kind of person.
For the sybarites: There are 300 plus types of toilet paper that can be seen at a special toilet paper museum in Madison, WI. Japan created a toilet for only $100 that at the touch of a keypad button either, cleans the bowl, blows either air or water 'up' and can provide a massage and air freshner. The Americans on the other hand have created a $2,000 electric toilet that burns excrement within two minutes to a mere 1 teaspoon of ash. The problem is of course a very high electric bill. The French aristocrats, King Louis XIV and used to hold meetings at night with their court while on the crapper. Apparently, the king took his dinner and meetings all night long sitting on the loo and "frequently excreted" until the pot was full, at which time the chamber pot was passed under the noses of those in attendance until the person closest to the door could empty it as a reminder of the King's (or their lowly) rank. Ben Affleck allegedly bought J Lo a $105,000 jewel encrusted toilet adorned with rubies, sapphires, pearls and diamonds. "Jennifer is my princess and she deserves only the best even whe it comes to toilets," he said on April 18, 2003. And the winner? The USA!! NASA bought a $19 million space toilet from Russia that includes straps, vaccums and a filter to convert urine to drinking water.
For the destitute and elderly: India is a poor country. If a village can't afford a 10,000 rupee toilet made of brick outhouses and concrete containers, there are options going all the way down to 1,000 rupees made of whitewashed jute outhouses and wood or clay containers. For the elderly who don't like to break the habit of going in the great outdoors, an open air spiral outhouse can be built so they don't feel suffocated and uncomfortable.
For the spiritualist: Sai Baba has the largest collection of toilets in India. The excrement of his disciples provides electricity to 30,000 people. Toilet ettiquette was addressed in the Manusmriti Vishnupuram in 1500 BC India. For married people: cover the head with a cloth. If a cloth is not available, roll a sacred threat and put on right ear, bring over head to hang on left ear. Observe silence. Face north during the day. Face south during the night. Don't touch water why defecating. Use left hand for cleaning and right for the bowl. For unmarried or celibate people: observe the married's rules twice more intensely. If a sain, observe four times more intensely than the married. All of these rules apply to daytime. If evening, frequency of wash reduced by half. If travelling, rules further reduced by half. If sick, observe rules per capacity. The Manusmriti Vishnupuram also had some ecological precautions: urinate 10 hands (meaning forearm to fingers) from the source of water. Defecate 100 hands from the source of water. And urinate 40 hands from a river or temple.
For the sybarites, artists and romantics: the art of defecation, termed "night soil" was the subject of Swift and Voltaire's musings, plus many a comedy through history (especially the dumping of chamber pots on unwitting victims - mostly in romantic comedies.) There are side by side toilets adjoined for lovers who can't bear to part. Some toilets are very creative. They are painted beautiful colors, designed as flowers (a San Franciscan is currently doing this) and hidden in chairs under cushions. The French built a toilet appears to be a pile of books - all with English titles on the books - how very French of them to desecrate the Brits.
For the naturalists: In Chiang Main, the thai elephant facility frequented by tourists has installed elephant sized human toilets and trained the elephants to sit on the toilets and relieve themselves in order to avoid unnecessary droppings around the facility. There is a portable toilet used for tents and websites that has biodegradable bags as a toilet. There is a new model that has a 3.5 foot tower with a fan on top that is both solar and wind powered for the flush. The toilets that the center is providing to Indians has two containers (only one in use at a time, while the other is fermenting) ensures that excrement containers are 1 meter away from another container b/c bacteria can only travel that far through soil. In case of a fire, occupants of a western toilet are advised to jump into the toilet and flush. The toilets that the center is providing to Indians uses only 2 liters of water, as opposed to the usual 10-12 to flush. The US still uses 10-12 in most cases.
For the historians: India claims to be the first to have sanitary toilets (2500 BC) in Harapa during the Indus Civilization. This technology was flushed away with the loss of the Indus Civilization. The first flushing toilet was created in 200 BC. In BC 33, Plinius claimed that urine has medicinal values. John Harrington, NOT John Crapper, created the first WC, i.e. water closet wherein "necessaries" were flushed into a sewage system, in 1596 AD. In the 18th and 19th century, Austrian Bucketmen and women used to stand around public places with a long coat and a bucket. For a small fee, a member of the public could conceal him/herself under the coat and relieve him/her self in the bucket. Believe it or not, there have been many such instances when I would have gladly payed for a Bucketwoman in India!
For the skeptic: Here's why this is interesting. The act of excretion, as one of the most fundamental processes of all life, requires much more attention that it has been accorded until now in order that we may enjoy healthy and pleasant lives. Think about it: how many times have you walked into a public toilet and almost vomited at the lack of sanitation? At least you have toilets in the US. In India and Nepal and other developing countries, a toilet is very, very hard to come by. I vividly remember the outhouses in Africa: they were so old and moist from years of bush rain that the wood morphed out of shape and would congeal when the door was shut. There was no form of waste removal and it was rank! In order to open the door for an escape, one had to take a deep breath and not panic that the door wouldn't open, and instead figure out the angle in which to push a certain portion of the door for an opening.
So, a toilet culture is a very good thing to have. The Museum of Toilets, with the Kobe Int'l Toilet Counsel aims for: 1) world health and sanitation for elderly, disabled and poor; 2) private and public faciities that are safe and clean; and 3) a source of global environmental solutions for overuse of paper and contaminated land and water and consequent disease irradication. The Counsel believes that overcoming these many issues requires an exchange of information, experience, technology and inter-disciplinary research on an international level.
So, in line with my bretheren and sisteren (sounds like cistern, doesn't it?), I hope that this blog has effectively created and promoted toilet culture to all you readers out there! Go night soil!!!
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