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.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
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
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