Just as I was getting really antsy to go on a trek and see the nature around here, a nice Nepali guy named Mahendra offered to take us out for a kayak trip to a waterfall. The lads chose to go on their ever vigilant search for petrol, so I went with him in the early morning. It was sprinkling as we paddled through the still lake just 10 minutes away to the other side of the island. We went alongside a river to a small, but heavy waterfall where you could plunge into the pool and actually go under the waterfall as it massaged your shoulders. It felt wonderful! As I came out of the pool, Mahendra said "show me your feet" and proceeded to pick off about six mini leaches on either foot. Ugh! But, he was so expert at flicking them off and they were so small, that they came off without leaving any blood at all. Impressive. Also impressive was the fact that I didn't freak out. We walked back down through the river currents to avoid leaches and after another foot check and leach removal, paddled to another cove to have some tea. At this point, Mahendra pointed silently with a smile: there was the Annapurna range blazing out from the clouds in a momentary glimpse of greatness. Their statuesque white beauty was so overwhelming that I cried. It was awesome!
While having tea, my diarreaha returned. Bummer. Mahendra started cracking jokes. He said that Jesus took credit out from Shiva and hadn't repaid him, so that was why Jesus wouldn't show up in Nepal. He also said "I saw Jesus in Goa on a harley davidson, I swear it." I paddled to the other end of the lake and met Mahendra there on his motorbike. Mahendra returned his kayak where we started and picked up his bike. The paddle over was calm and sweet and lovely. Beautiful birds swooped by me and I was in the middle of a field of purple and greed hyacinths at one point. There were local people fishing off the side of the lake and the sun was slowly peaking out from the rain clouds. He asked if I want to see how real Nepali people live. I said yes. We then went to his adobe compound up a hill which he shares with a landlord and lady and had lunch from his landlady. It was pre-packaged noodle soup with some fresh vegetables. There were several children around and I played with them for a while while Mahendra did some errands around his house. We then proceeded to the top of the hill, where there is a yoga center. As it is down season, it was closed, but the view was magnificent and the hike up entailed interaction with several local people who smiled broadly as we approached.
That night, I joined the lads at the local bar for some pool and soda water. Mahendra was also there and said I should sing. So I did. And it sounded really good. So good that the band asked me to come to rehearsal the next day. The next morning, I actually vomited several times in one sitting, had a tid bit more diarreaha and passed out sleeping until 2 pm, when I went to the rehearsal even though I was sick and delirious and shared with them various songs from my i-pod.
All of them were amazed at my i-pod b/c it was such great quality and not available at all in Nepal. They were also impressed with the hours and hours of songs I had (15 days worth) saved on the i-pod. I spent 5 hours with a friend in Koh Phangan who downloaded beautiful songs for me to play while teaching yoga before I left. I had an incredible, incredible music collection on that i-pod. There were several other characters around the bar whom I considered of a shifty nature, but I didn't think much of it as I was sharing the i-pod with two of the band members with whom I sing only. I drank my own bottle of water while there.
The band members themselves are young and eager to be stars - not thieves. I say this b/c after rehearsal, I went back to my hotel room and fell asleep from 4 pm to the next morning. I woke up in the middle of the night and heard something, but didn't inspect (didn't even open my eyes) b/c I figured it was the lads arriving in their room next door and making a lot of noise. Well, mom, it wasn't the lads. I woke up the next morning to find my screens sliced open just enough for a hand to get through and grab my purse located on my bedside table next to the window. They stole my i-pod and my camera, about $25 dollars in rupees and a cheap pair of imitation designer sunglasses. They left the rest, including my good luck charms and my silver wallet case and a notebook outside my window. So, I'm trying to look at the bright side here: it's just stuff and I still have my passport and air ticket and traveller's checks and a whole lot more cash in rupees that I stored elsewhere, as well as my journal - these are the most important things. Of most importance of course is that I wasn't physically assaulted even though I was RIGHT THERE sleeping in my room - they didn't see this presumably as my curtains were closed, I guess. Unfortunately, the proprietors who are very, very nice people are distressed and said it's the first time they've had a break-in in 30 years and they feel terrible. The police have already come to the sight and I'll go make a report in the next hour with the hotel proprietor. I trust the hotel people - they're very, very nice. The lads have one slice into their screen, but nothing was close enough to the screen to steal, I guess. There is no one else in the hotel as it is down season. It makes me feel really bad. Fortunately, I saved all my thailand photos on my computer back at Bangkok with a friend. All Nepal photos are gone, but the memories are there. All my i-pod tunes are gone, but now I know a lot of songs from Pyramid and I'll be able to hear ALL of Nepal and India all the time. The petrol is gone, but someone said there was a meeting yesterday, so hopefully things will look up. My diarreaha appears to be gone and I don't feel nauseous even though I just ate a croissant. My lonely planet book says vomit and exhaustion are signs of traveller's diarreaha, so no need to worry if it all passed in 24 hours. At this point, I just feel like a fool for bringing such a fancy instrument into a bar of all places and flashing it around. It's just another lesson of how extremely pampered I am and how oblivious to the desperation of others I am. As I was drinking my water and chatting away with my magic i-pod, who was watching me and seeing my i-pod as a quick fix of whatever addiciton they have? Or who needs it to survive a little better? Who followed me to the hotel and waited until nightfall to get it? Whoever it was, I trust that they needed the i-pod and the camera more than I did. What else can I do? In a way, it's probably nicer to travel with less things to worry about, but it bums me out. I feel like I brought bad luck to nice people at the hotel and it was my fault for being so oblivious to dire conditions. Lesson learned. I am an American, after all - ripe for the picking. For the first time today, I thought "I want to go home." Although the lads are fine and we've had some nice explorations together, we don't really inspire eachother much. Why Ladakh holds such appeal to me is a mystery and perhaps it's not worth this exciting journey on motorbikes to get there. We are, after all, not going anywhere. We have now assembled a crew of four other people to join us on their bikes to cross over to India once the petrol comes: an English couple in their early 20s, a 20-something Australian guy and a 30 year-old documentary filmmaker from Australia. So, do I go with this crew of people onto India or just come home? It sounds like we'll be driving through a lot of rain to get there. That doesn't sound like much fun, does it? I did yoga today to calm my nerves, but I just feel beaten up all the same. So, today is a rough one. I'll head to the police station now and see what happens next.

Petrol-free Pokhara

We're stuck in Pokhara due to the petrol shortage and it's a great place to be stuck. It's got a lovely lake that is surrounded by mountains and a lovely breeze. We've spent some time, hours actually, searching for petrol on the black market and waiting for leads that take anywhere from 30 minutes to four days to come through. Obviously, the Nepalis are experiencing more of an adjustment. They, however, are used to fuel shortages so there is an abundance of stored fuel in people's homes all over Nepal. It's an interesting experience of life without oil. The world would truly do well to come up with alternative fuel resources as Nepalese life has slowed to a trickle all around us. I spent an hour last night looking for a taxi to get us up to Marco's. I finally went to a tourist resort parking lot and asked some men smoking under a tree for a taxi. One man made a call on his cell phone. He told me that for 100 rupees, as opposed to the usual 600 rupees, he could take the three of us up the hill as long as we went at 4 or 5 in the morning b/c there was a taxi strike and we needed to go secretly. I felt like I was making an illegal transaction, negotiating in the dark of a tree in a parking lot. I brought him to the lads with his "deal" and we decided to wait out the taxi strike. There is currently a bandha/strike down the road. The Nepalese people are standing in the only (main) intersection of town and let only one car go by at a time. It is very peaceful. They just stand there in silence. I think I hear some music coming from there now. I wonder what impact their bandha will have.

India won't bring oil into Nepal b/c Nepal's debt to India remains unpaid. The main oil distributor has cut off the supply of petrol and won't turn it back on until it can speak with the government. There is, however, no working government - the former government and the maoists are at the tail end of their dialougues re. the shift of power. I've also heard that the Maoists finally gave up and left the government. It's not clear what government there is. It's not clear whether petrol will come back, miraculously, tomorrow. I've heard another rumor that it will come back tomorrow. According to Rick (see below), the taxi drivers get news that petrol is coming to town. They line up for 48 hours at the petrol station and take all the fuel from the first two tankers that come into town. Then, more tankers come in and people have acess to oil again. Today, there are many more cars and motorbikes and taxis on the road. The taxi strike must be off and perhaps there is petrol coming into town for the masses shortly. There is no controlled way of knowing except to observe the amount of functioning taxis. It's definately an improvement today. Yesterday, the vehicles stood silent all along the streets and were peppered along the roads empty and forgotten. Today, the buzz is back on the streets. It is palpable. I never knew I could feel the rhythm of a place so acutely as this. It's nice. I like it here. I feel comfortable.

Yesterday, the lads introduced me to an English man named Rick who runs a motorcycle club of Royal Enfields and Yamahas with his dutch Girlfriend Monique. BTW, Ed and Alex drive Royal Enfields. They're lovely, classic motorcycles. 70% of Rick and Monique's customers are women that come to Nepal, take riding lessons from Rick, then go on tours of 4-7 days with Rick around Nepal. I fell in love with one lovely cream and gold Royal Enfield called 'Honey.' She is not for sale. He is working on her and she'll be available for tours in October. Yet another reason to come back. Just to be nice, Rick took me into town on his motorbike so I could buy the safest helmet available in Nepal. As town is far and fuel is limited, this was an exceedingly generous offer. He speaks Nepali and has run his business here for four years, so I got the same price that the locals do: 1500 rupees (about $21) for a quality helmet from Thailand that has a mirrored viser that goes all the way to my chin - this will be excellent for dust and exhaust - and at the same time, I look like a living video game on the back of the bike.

We have been talking about visiting Silke's duch friend Marco, who lives on the top of a hill nearby, for three days now. We can not, however, leave town b/c we keep waiting for leads on petrol. Yesterday, Rick told me that he can get fuel on the black market for a four day wait. The lads agreed to go this route, so we will wait four more days and will hopefully visit Marco today and stay for a while overlooking Pokhara. I hear there is a beautiful waterfall in the jungle nearby - I believe this will be our next adventure. But, first I'll go for an ayuverdic massage for my lady's day.

We were very close to making it up yesterday, but there was a taxi strike, so we couldn't get a taxi up the mountain. It was too hot and sunny to walk with all our luggage. BTW, I've now downsized from a 70 liter bag of luggage on wheels to a 60 liter backpack to a 45 liter backpack. it's really great to lighten my load! I was very pleased to leave the hotel as the second night we stayed there, I was ravaged by bedbugs and mosquitoes. I couldn't sleep due to the constant assault on my face, even my lips, by mosquitoes, who found every spare uncovered millimeter of me to bite. Even though I was wearing long pants and covered by a sarong with a head wrap and around my arms, my legs and arms and even a spot below my right eye have little bumps and it's itchy and disgusting. I thought the leaches were bad. Nepal is really testing my resolve to just go with the flow.

Last night, we went to a hotel and the lads asked me to take a look to see if it was acceptable while they waited downstairs with the bags. I saw blood marks on sheets and walls and a chain link fence outside the window and smelled dust and mildew - we moved on from there. I was more than relieved when we went to another place with a lovely grass courtyard in the center of the hotel. It was late and the proprietors didn't wake to our knocks, so we pitched camp in the middle of the lawn. I had just traded a pair of trekking pants for a mosquito net and bought a sleeping bag for the journey, so I just hung the net from some trees and laid my bag on top of my yoga mat. There were no mosquitos, no bedbugs. I had a bottle of red wine, chocolate, a mosquito coil and a candle with me in anticipation of the visit to Marco - so we made a little camp and enjoyed our party under the stars before falling asleep. Thankfully, it didn't rain.

The rain is rolling in right now. You can see it approaching like a thick cloud of varying shades of grey slwoly oozing over the atmosphere. The wind takes on a moister, thicker, windier way and again, the changes in this little lakeside town are palpable. I think I will go for an ayuverdic massage and see if they can bring some relief to the bedbug bites.

I like Ed and Alex. They are good company. Alex is much more chatty and charismatic than Ed. Ed has a silent manner and seems to tolerate small talk whereas Alex transforms small talk into something of substance or entertainment. Both are genuine, good listeners and open minded. We've met a host of characters here and I'm pleasantly surprised by their total lack of judgment as to each of the people we've met. For instance, one woman has turrets and is constantly chattering like a chipmunk and slapping her legs or her torso. We've met the sterotypical drunk irishman who waxes on about his woes and his muddled and fuzzy life. He has clear, watery blue eyes and a smile that always spills out from him whenever we make eye contact. He told the lads they were lucky to find me in Kathmandu b/c he just likes me - he can't say why - but he just feels better whenever he sees me - I make him feel peaceful. The lads agreed and said that just about everything about me is special. That made me feel nice.

We met a mad man from Holland who is 30, looks 50 and boasted about living off of disability b/c he is legally insane. He threatened Rick for selling his friend a bad bike. Apparently, this has been going on for two years and sometimes turns physical, so Rick avoids him. According to Rick, he sold the bike to a man who got ill and had to quickly go home. He gifted the bike to this dutch man, who proceeded to ride and crash it regularly for a year without upkeep or maintenance. He then returned to Rick and demanded all the money his friend paid for the bike plus 20%. Rick obviously refused. The vendetta has lasted for two years. Rick asked me last night why I though he had it out for him so much. Perhaps a past life, perhaps he was in love with the man who gifted him the bike and misses him and is taking it out on Rick, or perhaps all of the anger and rage he has broiling around in his insane head unfortunately are projected onto Rick. Who knows? Rick thought the second idea sounded plausible.

As a long term resident of Nepal and a man who has motorcycled all over the world, Rick is a nice man, but is cynical just about everything. We had a long talk about yoga and he hopefully can see now beyond "the kooks that come from India, get rid of their stuff, buy something orange and ask for money on the street as "saddhus"/spiritual seekers" and "men that take advantage of young, unsuspecting girls who are looking for enlightenment." He's an engineer who studied physics so I got to correlate the teachings of electromagnetic energy that I received in Thailand with phsycial theory. It all matches up. Even Rick had to admit it. I think yoga would be good for him. Perhaps I'll tell him that if I see him again. Alex later asked how I felt about Rick's direct challenge to something I believed in so strongly. I wasn't offended - each of us has our own opinon. I only hope that I opened his perspective a little and if not, that's his choice and I respect that. As I was saying this, I was surprised at how rational and logical I sounded, whereas before I might have judged Rick for being too cynical and closed-minded. I continue to grow.

We met a 20 year old angel faced girl from Idaho who introduces herself like this: "Hi, I'm American. I'm from Idaho. I'm here to volunteer in an orphanage. Where are you from?" She is so innocent and sweet. She almost broke down crying last night as she said to the lads, the Irishman, Rick and I how nice it was to meet nice men who didn't want anything from her and gave her a respectful distance. I knew what she meant. She wasn't referring to a physical intrusiveness. Instead, she's referring to the Nepali men who greet every single woman with "hello, where are you from, come into my shop, want a smoke, would you like some tea, how are you?" etc. While this is perfectly pleasant and unconfrontational, after a while, you really just want to be invisible and talk to no one. When people continue to get in your space, your energy begins to become depleted. I saw this in the girl and told her how she could empower her energy field by laying down protective forces of Durga all around her and envision a white gold purple bubble around her so that she can decide who can come in and out of that space. It's a little new agey, I know. But I do it every day and did every time I got on my bike in Thailand - and I swear it works. I put my hand on her shoulder and told her everything was going to be allright. She hugged me and said that I made her feel so peaceful and safe. I am glad. I remember how vulnerable I felt when I travelled through Africa at the age of 20 - anytime I met an older female traveller who offered me advice, it was a very welcome gift. Now, I am that woman for younger travellers. What luck.

Alex referred to me as "like his friend's older sister or dare I say mother." It's weird to be seen not as a young lady, but as a mature woman. Am I really 35? Where did the time go? How lucky I am to still have such vitality and perceived peace and "special"ness from others around me. I accept my aging just as I accept the circumstances of this journey through Nepal - patiently, gracefully and going with the flow. I relish the opportunity to live my time now, so that I indeed can mark the passage of time with gratitude, not a vaccum.

Motorflow

With all of its chaos, there are several places in Kathmandu with lovely gardens and booming sound systems. The DJs rival any that I’ve heard in San Francisco or Burning Man. You put that combination together with one drop of Kyra and you have me dancing in the gardens under the stars at night with my trusty dutch companion (who is the social queen of Kathmandu, having lived nearby for one year), Silke. I notice two particularly dapper and polished young men with a certain poise and bearing that speaks of creativity and good breeding at the same time. I bring my soda water with me to take a breather from the dance floor and sit beside them under the stars, “Lovely evening in the garden isn’t it.” “Quite,” he says. We chat amiably – perfectly nice gentleman. I later return to the dance floor and meet the other one in the garden while taking a break. We’re standing in an open air courtyard with arched brick side walls and stars as the ceiling. There is moss covered bricks underneath us and tropical foliage spilling all around us. It smells fragrant and invigorating and exotic. I point out that this is a great space, thinking of how nice it would be to perform there. Just then, he says “a perfect stage, indeed.” We speak the same language. Minutes later, when he asks my travel plans and I say I’m somehow going to Ladakh, he says that I am welcome to join the two of them on their motorbikes as they, too, are headed to Ladakh on their way to Kashmir. “Okay,” I say without even thinking about it – just going with my intuition – and he says, “right then, we’re off tomorrow morning” and there it is: I’m heading west through Nepal to India via motorbike!
Alexander Robertson and Edward Fromson – these are my traveling companions. They are both 25 years old and actors – both stage and film – in England. They’re both strikingly handsome – Alex blonde, Edward brunette – both tall – both genteel – both intelligent – both adventurous – both resourceful – and both funny. They are staying in the same guest house as Bob, so I swing by Bob’s in the morning to say goodbye. He loans me a waterproof jacket and pair of pants for the journey, which I promptly don and knock upon the door of the lads’ room to greet them for our day and our journey. The door is unlocked as I knock and open it. There they are, sleeping in bed, just rubbing their eyes to wake up and make sure that they’re seeing correctly. It’s the Californian they met last night wearing full waterproof gear (hood latched around the chin included), standing at the foot of their bed smiling “good morning, are we still on for our journey west?!?” We’re on…Within several hours, the bikes are packed – Alex has my backpack and Edward has me – and off we go. They both travel with next to nothing. There is no problem. Their tanks are nearly full as we head off, for which I am grateful b/c we are, after all, smack in the middle of a petroleum crisis in Nepal. There are blockades and protests nearly every day as a result of the petrol and we’re not sure we can get any gasoline on our journey, but we go anyway. It is chaos leaving Nepal and I wonder if I’ve completely lost my mind and at the same time, I’ve never felt more free or happy or just plain in harmony with the rhythm of life.

I quickly learn that traveling by motorbike is the “best way to experience a country” as Ed says. We drive through fields and mountains with children smiling and waving along the way. We wend around potholes and slow cars and cross bridges with white rapids far below. We stop for lunch at a town that has several roadside stalls selling dahl baht and sweet tea. Our food is brought to our table and both of them proceed to eat Indian style with their right hand. I’m surprised that even while eating with their hands, they maintain the ever so English element of etiquette and decorum. I remember eating this way in Kuala Lumpur with my old boss and friend, Chandra. She says food tastes better when you eat with your hand, so I joined her and indeed eating the food off the banana leaf with my bare hands was sumptuous. Nonetheless, I’m on the brink of adventure overload, so I stick to the spoon. Alex buys all three of us mangos. Our flow together is very fluid, very easy.
They have collectively spent two years plus in India, Tibet and China. Ed learned to ride his bike in India. Both of them have already driven these motorbikes around India. They are both very road savvy in the eastern realm and this is extremely comforting as it takes a special kind of driver to drive in Nepal (and India, I hear) without going mad. They’re as cool as cucumbers. I look at Ed as he’s cruising along with an easy smile on his face and wild blonde hair spiking around his head and I can’t help but think of a young Peter Fonda – handsome and free, riding across the universe. This is a good thing. At every single petrol station along the way, we stop and ask for petrol – the answer is always the same – “no petrol. Try next station 5 kms.” We see the valleys and mountains of Nepal as we glide along the river at high noon in the blazing sun into twilight where everything is silver and sparkling and fresh. The air is so clear that it tastes like thick water when you inhale and you feel nothing less than bliss at being alive and gliding through Nepal on a motorbike – free as the wind – and blessed as can be. We ride along in this fashion until we’re nearly to Pokhara (26 kms).
Alex runs out of petrol. Ed knocks on doors in the neighborhood to ask for petrol. One man walks by and offers to let us stay for the night, saying also that there is a petrol station 2kms away. Alex questions whether he should walk down there and I say “sure and I’ll stay here on the side of the road by myself, like the stupid American girl that gets killed first in every bad horror movie.” We laugh and decide that Ed is probably walking there right now if he can’t find any black market petrol in the neighborhood. Another person appears and invites us to his home for the evening. We decline. Suddenly, the first man reappears and stands in the middle of the road to force a bus hurling down the road to stop right in front of us. A brave move. He tells Alex that the petrol station is only 2 kms away. I look at my empty water bottle and gesture to Alex. I say I can take the bus. Alex says “I wouldn’t take that bus” and I see a giant indentation on the side of the bus from an obviously gigantic car crash. Just at that moment, Ed calls out from the distance – he’s found an ex army man who sells us one litre out of his gasoline tank for 150 rupees. About a 50% increase from the petrol stations.
As we transfer the petrol from the army man’s tank to Alex’s bike, the entire family of about 10 is gathered around staring and giggling at us. They obviously find it humorous, perhaps, that we’ve decided to take a road trip in the midst of a fuel shortage. Quite right. Very funny. In fact, it’s the funnest idea ever and running out of petrol turns out to be our ticket to true Nepali hospitality. There is a gaggle of little girls gathered at the neighbor’s next door and they are singing a chorus together across the yard to me. I approach them and they bounce joyously up and down increasing the volume. They sound like the sweetest little chipmunks I’ve ever heard and all I can do is smile. We make it another 19 kms before Alex is again out of fuel. This time, Alex goes knocking while Ed looks at Alex’s bike’s fuel tank to see if there is a leak. I ask what I can do. He suggests I knock on some doors. The houses in this neighborhood are nicer. They all have security gates. I take out one bamboo stick and walk over the barrier to a modest looking home. “Namaste” I say from the dark into the illuminated hallway where a lady resides within. I tell her I’m out of petrol. Out comes a young nepali girl named Jyoti – a nursing student of 20 years old - who understands my English immediately and grabs a plastic container, nods her head, disappears into a side room and promptly returns with a half liter of petrol. She comes out to the bikes with me, as does her mother and her brother. I offer to pay her and she refuses, saying she would instead like my e-mail address and would we please stay for dinner or sleep at their house tonight. I give her my e-mail and decline the invitations of hospitality.
It is late now and dark. Althought it’s been raining every day since I’ve been in Kathmandu, we’ve successfully managed to avoid any rain all day. But now, it’s a little chilly. We’re tired. Alex returns from his search with one liter of petrol. We decide we will gladly accept Joyti and her mother Rama’s invitation. Although it is now 10:00, the family sits us in front of the television and quickly disappears into the kitchen to prepare a delicious nepali meal for us of spicy potatoes, moist rice, delicious dahl and hot sauce with green vegetables. They also give us glasses of purified water. We offer to help. They just want us to be comfortable. The lads sleep on the large bed that has been made for them on the floor and I’m slightly elevated on a couch. The hospitality is genuine and pure and simply sweet. We talk with the son and daughter about what they like to do when they’re not at school. “Nothing,” they say, completely content. Their English is remarkable and they are bright and articulate. There is a calm to them that I wish even half of the American teenagers could emulate. It’s really, really sweet to be their guests. In the morning, I wake up and start to do yoga. I set up an extra mat alongside me and invite Jyoti to join me. I teach her for nearly 30 minutes and she is laughing the whole time. I finish without her after she decides that she’s had enough. She watches, still smiling. I’m smiling, too. Alex wakes up to the sight of me in shoulder stand with legs and body straight up in the air, one knee touching my forehead as I stimulate my third eye chakra. He sits on the mat next to me and I guide him through some exercises to deal with the saddle stretch from riding so long. We om together three times and greet the day. We take a tour through their grounds – barley and corn and vegetables and herbs, goats, chickens, an ox and a bull. The mother takes care of all of the land on her own. The brother helps with the cooking and goes to school. Jyoti is the career girl who works at the hospital. Her graduation photograph is proudly displayed in the living room amid posters of Krishna, Gopala, babies, a mother and baby elephant saying ‘mother’s love’ and other such sweet posters that I loved when I was 9
years old. They feed us a delicious brunch and we’re off again.
We make it to the stunning lakeside town of Pokhara. It is another beautiful sunny day and the lake is so calm and clear and quiet (no horns), that I feel completely relaxed even though I’m still gliding along on the back of a motorcycle. It’s all fluid now. We check into two rooms. The hotel is charming and called “the Hamlet” which the lads love for obvious reasons. Ed specializes in Shakespearean theater, btw. Our balconies abut eachother and we relax overlooking the lake for an hour reading and writing and painting. We continue in the flow and decide to venture into town. I direct us to a side dirt path and we end up in front of the glistening lake with boats to our right. Alex and Ed say they’d hire one without a driver. I asked a man sitting on a bench if we could rent it. Yes. The gents rowed to the other side of the lake as I sat at the other end of the boat trailing my hands in the cold, clear water, feeling once again as lucky as ever. They head for a beautiful stupa atop a large mountain. We get off and wordlessly begin climbing through the forest to the stupa. By the time we make it to the top, we are drenched in sweat and breathing only relatively heavily. This is the World Peace Pagoda – a place specially selected by Buddha as a place where people from anywhere in the world could easily come and meditate on peace because it was nothing less than inspiring to look out any direction of the 360 degree views of the stupa. The stupa has four altars to Buddha in gold. I circle it three times and wai and om each of the buddhas each time. I turn around and admire the view, watch birds sailing through the air, hear the wind billowing from on high in the Himalayas. It’s not clear enough to see the Himalayas, but their presence is felt everywhere and in everything. It is peaceful. It’s getting late and the path up was mostly moss covered stones – not good to walk down in the dark. I’m also mindful of the travel advisory saying this is a regular grounds for thieves, particularly at night. Although they are aware of impending darkness, the lads order a cuppa' (of tea) on top of this beautiful place (and some candy bars, I admit) and it’s so hot that we have to wait even more precious minutes to drink them. We’re told by the security guard as he leaves that we have 15 minutes to nightfall. It took us about 1.5 hours to climb up. Just like we miraculously made it to Pokhara despite the fuel shortage and just like we’ve had two full days of travel without rain despite the monsoon season, we miraculously make it back down the mountain with only a tiny bit of darkness. The lads paddled the boat out about half way home and noticed that the whole of the mountain that we'd just climbed was covered in showers. Showers that were quicky approaching us.
I think to myself that I’ve just seen us go over a fence wire, but don’t say anything b/c I think my eyes must be playing tricks on me in the dark. Actually, we ended up being trapped in a fish farm (at this time it was dark and visibility was poor) and had to paddle back from the direction we came for five minutes. As soon as we righted the boat around the fish farm, the storm overtook us and it POURED on us! I stared singing songs as they paddled on either side of the boat-it seems like the right thing to do somehow. We got to shore 10 minutes later, secured the boat, met two young nepali students and all went together to dry off and warm up with another cup of tea under a tin roofed restaurant. I went to the bathroom and had to wade through a puddle to get there. I met my first leach! On my left foot as I discovered upon inspecting my feet at the restaurant again. As I’m making some sort of reviled sound over and over again, Alex is telling me to burn it off and leaning toward me with a lighter. I can’t help it, I flick it off of me and writhe with horror. A splot of blood drips to the ground. Alex gently suggests later that it’s best not to make a scene b/c then everyone else at the table becomes paranoid and checks themselves non-stop for leaches. “A bit of a conversation stopper, really…”
We walk back home without a torch and no streetlights. My shoes are open toed. I can’t get over the disgusting feeling and every time I walk in a pothole/puddle, I utter the same visceral sound. The guys just laugh. It’s funny. I’m the only one of the three of us who kept landing in puddles all the way home. We go to dinner and it’s lovely. We’re in warm dry clothes with closed-toed shoes. I like it this way. Today is again sunny, my shoes are still closed-toes and my feet are sweating, but I’m not ready for exposure again – even when it’s dry and I can see...not yet, anyway.
We’re still waiting for the mechanic to return to town so that the bikes can get tuned up and we can see to Alex’s bike’s tank. I painted with watercolors on my balcony this morning and brought hot tea to the lad with which I warmed their feet to get them up and moving this a.m. I feel light, creative and peaceful. We’ll soon continue on to western Nepal and start camping. They set up a tarp on the top of the bottom between two motorbikes. This is really roughing it. I’ll need to buy a sleeping bag. I wonder if they have not “hair nets” but “leach nets” to protect my head and face while sleeping on the ground. Alex pointed out that leaches can jump and I can’t quite get the image out of my head. I guess I’ll have to become more leach savvy. I am surrounded on either side by good chaps that know how to camp, speak hindi, live with little money and maximum enjoyment of life, know how to haggle and charm any kind of person we’ve come across and know how to live in the eastern fashion and meditate. Did I mention that they’re chivalrous and gracious to me as well? They both have sisters and said they missed female energy and how nice it is to have me with them. What more can I ask for? Life and the universe continue to flow: an unbroken wholeness in flowing movement, indeed.

Mystical Music

Rumi says it is rare to hear the call to explore, let alone to act on that call and leave all that you know behind you. So, I suppose I've heard the call and acted on it. Now, I'm in Kathmandu - going on week two with a brief escape to the outlying valley, and it's really time to move along. You see, it's hard for me to delve into my spiritual side or even my yoga too deeply here - it's just too chaotic. So, just as I'm feeling this, I go to a cafe for mushroom soup on a rainy day and there it is: "The HiddenHarmony & The Singing Mysticism" flyer advertising an eight-day retreat to Osho Mystery School in a jungle 5 kms outside of Kathmandu. The flyer speaks to me: "Osho says the person who hears the inner music becomes capable of hearing the celestial music of the speres. He has learned the first lesson, now he can hear it all around in the stars. That music has to be heard. hearing it, one's life becomes sheer beauty, bliss and benedicition." This is an 8-day program on Buddhism, yoga and tantra and "initiation into bliss of existence," i.e. the sound of silence, by a living master/mystic. Well, well, well...THAT sounds interesting. Beginning July 1. We will see.
Yesterday, my dutch companion Gus and I went to a shiva temple called Pashiputinath on the banks of the Bagmati River. This is the head of the river that goes to Varnasi and merges with the Ganges. It is considered a sacred river. There are creamation ghats along the temple/river edge and we watched bodies being cremated as our guide told us about hindi birth and rebirth. If a body is cremated, there is another life. If buried, not another life. The exception is a baby less than six days old - who is buried, but given another life b/c (s)he was too young to know about rebirth. There is a sacred plan to who lights the fire - always the son - a daughter can't do it - or the father if the son pre-deceases him. If there is no male figure, a "son" can be hired at the temple to light the flame. It was surreal, yet real, to stand amid billowing smoke of the pyres and contemplate whether these souls were indeed going to be reborn. Does the sweeping of one's ashes into sacred water really bless the soul for the next journey? I was allowed to enter a cave where the saddhus (spiritual holy men) sleep and meditate on my own for 10 minutes. It was beautiful - I felt vibrations rippling around me as I meditated and chanted to Shiva (lord of creation from destruction, among other incredible things) - and the flowing river outside was absolutely lovely, fresh and invigorating.
On our way to the temple, I saw my first accident - behind me - literally - a motorcycle crashed into our taxi. We were all fine. That was a first.
There is an int'l music festival this weekend that I will stay inKathmandu for, but then I am leaving. I believe Gus and I will river raft on our way down to the tiger/elephant/rhino reserve, then maybe do some trekking near the famous lake Pokhara. Perhaps I'll do the Osho thing on July 1-8, then head out to India. I bought a book on Osho's theories and will see if it resonates.
I have a feeling that when I leave Kathmandu, peace will fall back into place. I hope so.
Time is up on my hour, here. Kathmandu is the only place where I can seeburning bodies, be blessed by a saddhu to help my anger issues and give me love and peace, then attend an egyptian rock concert and watch the euro cup within 24 hours. Interesting life. Interesting place.

Perspective a la Decrescendo

Life ebbs and flows. So, unfortunately, does my churning stomach and frequent toilet visits. I'm sick. I have traveller's dysentery, which everyone said I would get. And guess what? It sucks. Then I remind myself that it could be much, much worse. I'm reminded of tearing my ligaments in Peru at the beginning of my five week journey around South America. I'm reminded of the little parasites that resided in my belly for a spell in Guatemala. I pass an old man on the street with gouged eyes and stumps for limbs begging for money as I shield my eyes with a lotioned arm and return to my hotel garden to sip some tea. The other day, I was riding straight up a rock peppered dirt road in the rain and I said "this is torture." Just then, I looked at the side of the road and saw five Nepalis bent over doing back breaking work in their rice fields. At least their actions are productive - and I doubt they complain of torture - not until the Maoists come, anyway. All in all, my life, with bugs, bouts, etc. is charmed and I have no right to complaint. However, I feel a bit down these days and want to write about it.
I am tired of being hassled on the streets of Kathmandu: "one rupee, I'm hungry," "rickshaw madam?," "want to buy...," "namaste, where you from?," "are you married?," and so on...I am tired of meeting ex pat men who live in Kathmandu and within 30 minutes receiving a proposal to be their lover while I am here. "I want to touch you" seems to be the phrase of choice as they look longingly across the table directly into my eyes and I am grateful that this culture dictates full coverage of all limbs so that only my face is exposed. It's funny, in San Francisco, there were never enough men to actually come forward and BE manly. Here, the ex pat men ARE manly - there is the reporter, the photographer, a UN worker, an escapist romantic, a scientist - yet there is something so sad and desperate when each man says the same thing in the same way: "I want to touch you." I retort that it is pointless without love and they say love is pointless and doesn't last. Who's right? I don't intend to find out in this way. How strange the world is.
Kathmandu has lost it's lustre somewhat. I am tired. I am fatigued by my gut and spend time in my hotel room watching Aljezeera news broadcast. It is much better than US news coverage and I am reminded of the main source of American information - the media - and wish that more Americans would look outside, perhaps online, to see what other perspectives there are on the world and current affairs. I was talking with the UN employee last night (it's a small ex pat community in Kathmandu, so we frequently see eachother out and about) and the UN is leaving Nepal as the elections are over. His next station? Iraq. All I could say was "God Bless Iraq." Where that came from, I don't know. Perhaps the desperate situtation with all of the militias fighting for survival and a weak government with no one to lead the people out of chaos. This has been created by the Americans who failed to think of the long term repurcussions...right? How could this have happened? Where is there any end in sight? It makes me very sad to think about it. It makes me even more sad to look at this bright man who will soon go there, by choice, to document the goings on. I hope he finds somebody to love him. I wish the same for the Iraqi people - I hope they find a strong leader to love them back to peace.
I spent five hours yesterday trying to find a bra to buy. I ended up on the other side of town and finally found a stash hidden in a corner. The selection was coarse and ugly. The Nepali women adorn themselves so beautifully with headscarves and colorful prints. It's surprising that this loveliness doesn't go all the way down to lingerie. Instead, it seems like a shameful necessity. It makes me appreciate the choice and freedom women have in America.
Likewise, the lack of sanitation around the hotel and the frequent power outages in the hotel that last two hours only to be greeted by the surrounding neighbors with little cheers when it comes back on make me appreciate american cleanliness and efficiency. As I walk the streets of Kathmandu and witness or experience near collissions of rickshaws, people, little children, bicycles, cars, motorcycles, signs jutting out on the road and dogs - all heading in several directions all at once on a tiny little street - I am grateful for the traffic lights and safety regulations of the United States. I have a soar throat due to all of the traffic and pollution in Nepal - just taking a cab across town made me sick and soar. It's gross. Of course, this makes me appreciate the clean, fresh air of San Francisco.
I will leave Kathmandu shortly. I looked into other activities in Nepal and unfortunately have come at precisely the wrong time. No trekking due to muddy trails that are slippery and dangerous going up with lots of leaches and severly impaired visibility of all mountains and views due to rain clouds. Lodges in the National Park where tigers and rhinos and elephants live are closed during the monsoon season, muddy roads/trails are impassible, leaches are everywhere. The rivers are too high for rafting. Sightseeing is okay as long as you factor in two to three rainstorms a day. That brings me to reconsider whether I want to trek through the Valley in the rain with a guide to a saddhu in the woods, to lakes and to a monastery..right now. I caught a glimpse of one snow covered Himalaya yesterday from my hotel room and it took my breath away - I must come back when it is not monsoon. Moral of the story is plan ahead when you book a ticket somewhere. Big whoops on my part.
Ladakh in India sounds absolutely beautiful by all accounts - monasteries, trekking, rafting and a beautiful, clear, peaceful landscape. That, after all, is what I came to Nepal for, and will return to Nepal to enjoy some other day. Not now.
Now, I will go to the pharmacy and cash some more traveller's checks. The shopping scene here is overwhelming and I'm tired. I'll come back to the hotel and read, do some yoga, meditate, breathe my hotelroom air and practice my waterpainting. I'll take a bath. I just feel tired today. I am lucky, I know. But, today, I am tired.

Ant Pi, Indeed!

Every time I tell a Nepalese person my name, they giggle. Now I know why: Kyra means "ant" or "insect." So, these are the journeys of "Anty Pi" as my family would say, indeed. They call me "Pi" and the nieces and nephews call me "Aunty Pi" - now it's full circle. Don't ask about the "Pi" part...
Today, the king moved out of the palace. The next question is whether he should be able to keep any of his private property. The Himalayan Times published a speech by the king that was very nationalistic and humbling. It’s amazing to juxtapose this treatment of the king by Nepalese people with the reverence that the Thais have for their king. Public life is always temporary, I suppose. I guess everything in life is.
Kathmandu is wild and crazy. To get away from the smog, noise and pollution, I accompanied a german girl 10 years younger than I on a mountain bike tour around the Kathmandu Valley. We climbed 2,100 meters off-road over stones and mud and were poured upon by monsoon rains on three occassions. It was hard core. The mountains are steep and beautiful and full of rocks. I learned that the flesh on my bum is in precisely the wrong place to make for nice padding on a dirt and rock uphill trail (especially in the three rounds of pouring rain), but no problem. We made our destination and it was a beautiful journey indeed. We went through many villages and saw the way that most Nepali people live. They are poor, hard working, beautifully dressed (the women in bright saris even when working in the field) and very friendly. When we reached our destination of Nargakot, it was so cold that our clothes wouldn't dry. Nargakot is famous for its views of the Himalayas, however the rain clouds obstructed the view. The air was fresh. We both got colds and stomach issues for the first time. It was, however, incredible to ride through the many outlying villages of Kathmandu and to visit the Hindu and Buddhist temples far and wide. My favorite part was passing women just sitting quietly by the side of the road as their goats ate within arms' reach of them. It was very peaceful. It was also a good reminder that I don't like being wet, uncomfortable, cold or travelling uphill.
We visited the oldest town in Nepal, its former capital, Bhaktapur. It was built 700 years ago and has tiny streets wending every which way from giant squares decked with temples and stupas and potters and artisans. You walk down one street and hear the tapping of little hammers on iron or hear the whir of a potters’ wheel or smell the scent of freshly chopped wood, depending on what district you’re walking through. Roof gardens deck many terraces and prayer flags ripple on the horizon. I was inside a Thangka Art School and a gentleman was describing all aspects of the inner journey from the outer material world to the inner world of ultimate peace. This gentleman was a BOY, a young child compared to me, and this was just a part of Nepalese culture. As an American, I often feel like a big giant that has spent my whole life caught up in materialism and achievement, with no regard for spirituality or ultimate peace. Of course, I've marvelled at the miracle of nature many times and volunteered time doing political asylum cases and indigenous land right studies, but to truly seek peace and spiritual development - these things have been foreign to me, the rich american giant. I am glad that I've woken up. I met a guide named Rama who invited me to do a two week tour with him around the Kathmandu Valley - this will be a spiritual tour, starting with the Black Baba and ending in Kopan Monastery. This came about b/c I was asking him five zillion questions about the various incarnations of Shiva and Vishnu and Lakshmi and we were exchanging differences in Hindi vs. Nepali devotional songs. I'm really pleased to have made his acquaintance as the universe has once again responded to my wishes to have a spiritual guide take me to holy sights and explain to me the rituals of Nepalese and Tibetan buddhist rites. I have a friend (Gus) coming to visit from Thailand and hopefully we can do the tour together. We will then head to Chitwan National Park to see tigers, rhinos and bathe elephants, then go to Limbini where Buddha was born. Then, we’ll head to India – Delhi, Dharamsala and Leh. Then, I’ll likely head home in mid-August for Burning Man and Marta’s wedding and a month of work to save money. I haven’t budgeted very well, I’m afraid…
I went to bed early last night to kick my stomach problem. I woke up at 5:30 and meditated, did the ashtanga primary series, pranayama (breathwork), a little bit of reading and some general reflection so early in the morning. For the first time, I saw one of the snow capped Himalayas to the North from my bedroom! The rain clouds quickly covered the view, but it was beautiful! I will definitely return here in October to trek in dry weather as it is stunning!
Per usual, I feel very lucky to be here. Although my stomach is doing somersaults and it appears my elbow is getting a little agitated again (red), I feel peaceful and calm. Life is beautiful!

I LOVE Kathmandu!

I LOVE Kathmandu! This morning, I woke up to chanting, flute playing and cow bells of a tibetan ceremony wafting from my neighbor's roof to my window. I can see the Himalayas from my bedroom window and there is a 360 degree view of them from the rooftop where there is a lovely garden and plenty of space for me to do yoga. I just met a famous young trekker from Romania named Alexandru Gavan who is sponsored to climb giant mountains and is going off to Anapurna today on a rescue mission. He's full of adventure-related information. He said you can still go rafting right now if you have enough experience. For instance, a guy fell off the raft into a sink hole and knew how to swim out. I think I'll wait until after monsoon for rafting. He showed me pitures of his tent on a diagonal pitch going down the side of the mountains - the fifth largest in the world. See his INCREDIBLE pictures on www.cloudclimbing.ro. I'll teach him yoga today on the roof - it'll be good for his hamstrings. What a gift to share yoga with a 26-year old professional adventurer. You never know what will happen next, perhaps a gig as the onboard yoga teacher for "easy" treks by reference from this well connnected guy????

This place is marvelous. It is chaotic with the type of traffic that only Asia can come up with, i.e. rickshaws, cars, cows, people on feet, bicycles and motorcycles all zooming past eachother at death defying speeds and near misses accompanied by horns. The amazing thing is that I haven't seen one accident and the road rage drivers are smiling at eachother and genuinely having a good, peaceful time while driving. The shops are so colorful! They spill over with Thangkas and carpets, handicrafts, clothing, beautiful jewelry of turquoise and silver and red and yellow stones, carvings of Hindi and Buddhist sculptures, etc, etc. A shopper's paradise! I have spent about $50 buying three new Nepali-friendly outfits - conservative, but with my own taste still apparent. The architecture is ancient and intricately adorned with spiritual carvings, including deities, flowers, lingums, etc. Faith and beauty and history is everywhere you look. everywhere.

Yesterday, I got lost several times in the streets and was exhausted as I sat in a restaurant and ordered some momos. An employee who is the somellier sat down and asked me all about ca wines. I was able to tell him quite a bit about wines, actually. He bought me a huge glass of australian chardonnay. this was the first wine I've had in ages and it was delicious. His goal is to educate nepalis about wine. He wants to bring ca wines to Nepal. I've given him the name of THE wine king of san francisco, don davis, who organizes large-scale wine tasting events with wines from all over the world. Maybe something will come of this. It is indeed a small world. I then stumbled throught the streets onto a yoga/reiki sign. I followed the arrows down a dark alley and into a narrow little hallway in a house upstairs into a dimly lit doorway. a happy little nepalese man was there and we sat chatting for a while about yoga. i asked where i could chant with people and he told me the name of a yoga center and offered to take me there. I'll go tomorrow to see where it is with him. He was wearing a purple shirt. It turns out, according to my pal bob, that there is only one yoga "cult" here in kathmandu and they all wear purple shirts. somehow, i may have managed to find the only yoga 'cult' whatever that is within hours of being here. regardless, i look forward to chanting and singing and seeing what another realm of yogis believe. Kathmandu is full of such spiritual practices.
there are stupas on every block where the people do their abulations and even a giant gazebo where people gather to chant on a regular basis. the nepalese people have names like surya lama (sun lama), ganesh (remover of obstacles), Lakshmi (goddess of wealth and culture), Hari (the lord), etc. and it's impossible to forget that this is a holy, historic, very celebratory place. It's beautiful.

On the other hand, there are many young men in fatigues with large guns walking the streets - a remnant of the ongoing revolution. They are maoists - the party who just won the general election - and Kathmandu has not been a particularly supportive place for the maoists. Nonetheless, they don't appear threatening and the protests have stopped now that the election has been won by the Maoists and the king has left the palace without issue. Still, it is a time of transition. There are not many tourists on the street and I'm not sure if it is b/c this is the beginning of Monsoon season or b/c of the political situation. It is not volatile, but it is in transition. It's oddly quiet amid the traffic. It's truly an interesting time to be here. Now, the papers are filled with stories of frustrated Nepalis who are going hungry while the question of an allowance for the king to live in an alternative palace is being bandied about. The propoganda against lending further support to the ousted king is clear. I wonder, what does an ousted king do to support himself if the government won't support him? Surely he must have a Swiss bank account or something, right? At the same time, there are many stories of Nepalis who have fallen on hard times due to the extremist actions of the Maoists who promised financial compensation for the loss of life, limb or property but have not yet paid up. There is also criticism of the people's court, i.e. 'the kangaroo court' of the Maoist people that calls people in for no reason and demands that they answer questions posed by a panel or else. There are no pending charges, just a general inquisition that looms over Nepalis subject to the people's courts. Kindof Kafka-like. The Maoists have negotiated that they will not go for the presidential seat as long as a neutral, competent mutually agreeable team of Pres and VP is set up. How that can happen is a mystery. The transition goes on.... I also read in the Himalayan Times that Hillary stepped down and fully supports Obama. If true, wow, I am thrilled by the news!!!

It turns out that my friend Bob (who I met in Had Tien briefly before he moved to Kathmandu) speaks Nepali and Newari and spent years living here about 20 years ago first with the Peace Corps, then just living here, then leading university trips here. He got his PhD at UC Davis with Agricultural Development specializing in the Nepali region. We went on a tour of Kathmandu last night by rickshaw complete w/stops at his favorite places to eat (pomegranate, pineapple and orange juice with mango slices) and many places of interest complete with legends, stories, deities' purposes explaied and attention to little details that only a local would know! I can't believe my luck. Once again! I really like it here. Bob and I have made a deal: I'll read up on the yogic, buddhist and hindu philosophies (and perhaps the cult ones, too1) and he'll take me on course when he's not working. He's a really nice man and full of knowledge. He will be a good friend, I am sure.
Today, I will take a walking tour of the city from my guidebook. Bob recommended an incredible bookstore. I hope to stumble upon antiques and ancient history - no problem. I'll do abulations around the stupas and spin prayer wheels. I'll eat some momos and smile at every person, and every person that smiles at me as I walk around. I get many comments on my hair and my eyes. Although dressed conservatively, I am still a rarity around here due to the lack of tourists. I don't feel at all threatened or feel that my personal space is impeded. they are very respectful here. I think I'll prefer this to India. Tonight, I meet Silke the dutch lady who was referred to me by another person I met at Had Yuan. She is having her bday party tonight and I expect to meet many such expats living in Kathmandu as she has been living, teaching and involved with NGOs here for several years. She also likes to dance. I saw in the paper that a famous Indian dj named Ayesha is spinning at a party celebrating the opeing of an art academy that trains Nepalis to vj, dj, shoot videos and model. It should be another intriguing evening. Is this living or what?

On my way to Kathmandu

I'm sitting in Bangkok airport. I've just finished an hour long foot and shoulder massage and sampled the Ayuverdic lotions and potions in the airport. I feel refreshed and pampered as I woke up at 5 this morning to meditate, do yoga, eat some fruit and mueslix and orange juice and catch a cab to the airport. On the way Creedence Clearwater Revival played and I sent loving thoughts to my dad as CCR is one of his favorite bands and my sister Stacy as we attended a John Fogerty concert in the Santa Barbara bowl and it was incredible! I wai'ed to pictures of the King posted all the way to the airport and feel generally blissed out to be on yet another adventure.
Just yesterday, I bought a smaller, lighter backpack and left two giant bags full of STUFF with my friend Matt who lives in Bangkok. I feel light and free and ready to roll on yet another backpacking journey that I haven't felt in about five years. First, Nepal and then India...I've never wanted to go to India and witness the filth, disease and pestilence, but I've learned that India is everything in life - major spirituality all the time - and if I can embrace India, I can embrace life. I look forward to diving in to the challenge of the this country. But first, Nepal....a gentle segue into Indian culture in Delhi, Dharamsala and Ladakh (my Indian destinations).
I've already been invited to dinner on my first night in Nepal from a friend. I've also just received an email inviting me to a birthday party for a dutch lady named Silke who is a good friend of a person I met in Had Yuan. I have hotel reservations and will be picked up in the airport and I have my trusty lonely planet in my carryon to read about Nepal. I feel so very fortunate to be me. The world is my oyster and what lies in the exotic, Himalayan surrounded metropolis with just slightly fewer people than San Francisco from all over the world and history that dates back to Buddha is truly a marvelous gift waiting to be opened.
I left Had Yuan with a sweet feeling of completeness. The buggy blue eyed man came back and we were friends. I feel again that life has offered me amazing lessons. On my last day, I met a gentleman from Holland with blue eyes, a tan lined face and a heart the size of Montana. He was calm and very kind. We instantly connected. Although he has no interest in going to India for all the same reasons that I do, he is going to join me there in one month. We will see what unfurls. He had a dream that we were witnessing a body burning and we were both crying out of love. I can see that happening. He decided to wait for one month b/c he feels I need this journey through India on my own. I agree. We will see what the universe unfurls...as always, I am grateful for all that life offers...
The night before I left, I went back to Pyramid Yoga for a final kirtan and it was absolutely beautiful. It was Jenika's (the leader of kirtan) last night and many people attended. We sung to our hearts' delight and it just felt so loving and powerful. Everyone was glowing! After, we all went to Kerry's house (a lovely woman from the other yoga school - Agama) and sang w/a guitar around a bonfire and ate fruit and drank hot chai cooked over the fire. Again, this was lovely. The next morning, Kerry and I discussed love and India and lessons through yoga. She referred me to an acupuncurist to straighten the energy on my arm after the injury. I went to him and after the treatment, I started crying with all the fears I had about going to India and how incredibly lonely I felt. He switched to reiki on my stomach (where my sadness was) and told me for 40 minutes about all of the incredible spiritural experiences he had in India. He pointed out that I can always go to a fancy hotel if it gets too much or leave. I'm not trapped. But that this country holds more beauty and lessons and spirituality than any place on earth. In essence, he unblocked my energy (I felt little pops of energy with each needle), then I cried the pain out through my eyes, then he filled those spaces with white light ideas and facts about India. At the end of the session, I wasn't scared about India anymore and I embraced the fact that in going alone, that, too, is a beautiful thing. Now, I have a companion to join me after one month and there is something very calm and spiritual about this man. We will both be on amazing journeys. And it won't be easy.
Again, I feel blessed and happy and healthy and safe.
Nepalese people have asked the king to leave the palace and the army supports the people. I joke that they just wanted to clear the palace so I'd have a place to stay (Confessions of a High Maintenance Traveller strikes again!). But really, it will be an interesting time to be in Nepal and to learn about the people's feelings re. democracy and the monarchy. It is safe for me to be there. And so very interesting.
I came up to BKK with Jenika (the kirtan leader) and she gave me a talisman and all sorts of advice and encouragement re. my journey. She says it's perfect acclimization in Thailand, Nepal, India order and that it's going to be a journey of a lifetime. We discussed many beautiful things about yoga and spirituality and the journey of life. She is the last friend I saw before coming to this airport. She gave me a talisman of Lakshmi and Ganesh that I put on my gold chain with the jade buddha on it. I have the items I need to give due reverence to the Buddhists and the Hindus. I have the confidence and love and excitement to give myself due reverence on my journey.
Indeed, I surrender to the Universe and what continues to unfurl is nothing less than perfect, even the hardships offer me deep insights as everything that happens and everyone I meet is a reflection of something in me that I came on this journey to unravel and to love. So, love to one and all! Kathmandu, here I come. Dhanuvad!