More Pictures

Enjoy-- from Sadhana to the Himalaya:




A typical scene in the Main Hut of Sadhana Forest


Cup of late-night chai with the crew (L-R: Seb, Stacy, Josh)


An hour into our northern train ride. Freja, Josh, Lovisa, Seb and Lynden


Josh and Lovisa sharing an iPod


Lohali, the mountain village an hour away from the Rainbow Gathering


Travelers

A closer look


Our modest camp in the valley, Josh and Lawrence of Arabia behind


The Welcome Tent at the Gathering


All of us after just hiking out of the Rainbow Gathering...stopping for a cup of chai (Left to right: Seb, me, Josh, some girl, Lovisa, Betty (friend of Seb's--from the same town), Freja)


Beautiful.


Good friend Seb and I after a hike up the ridge


Lynden enjoying a nude sunset; I had no choice but to join him...


A nice sunset up above the Gathering


The brilliant full moon coming off the eastern ridge


Sharing some chai at a roadside stall

My first Himalayan sunset, from a hilltop inn in Kasar Devi

Gathering in the North, I've come back South

Well, it's been over a month since my last post...sorry about that--

As you know Josh and I have been holed up in Sadhana Forest for the past month and a half. The past two weeks were up in Uttarakhand, in the foothills of the Himalayas, at what's called a "Rainbow Gathering." And about an hour ago we had a nasty fall on our motorbike. I've had a milkshake and a piece of cake...I feel fine.

I'll start from March. Sadhana, as Josh described, is a magical place. We have grown very close to a lot of the people there and the land itself and fell right into the rhythm of Sadhana life. We spent a month learning all about how Sadhana works and picked up many skills: cooking on woodfires, irrigating for water conservation, solar energy usage, landscaping, planting and gardening, eating vegan, composting all types of waste, recycling, reusing, growing a miracle food (algae) called spirulina...etc. etc. etc. Then in late March 6 of us who became really good friends took off north, Sebastian, a British guy who would have a tea and smoke break about 6 times a day (often times we'd all hop on motorbikes and ride a kilometer down the road to have a midnight cup of chai at the 24 hour chai stall), Lynden, a bearded and braided bear of a man from B.C. who spoke in a feathersoft voice, and two Swedish girls, Freja and Lovisa, who just screamed Scandanavia. We were heading to a "Rainbow Gathering" where a bunch (150) of western hippies gather out in the forests and drum and dance and cook and sing and share for a couple weeks around the full moon. We left on April 1st. It was a long haul up to Delhi, 36 hours on a hot train, but it was fun. Lots of cards, chai, laughing, napping, and staring at the rolling countryside. We made it in to Delhi and loaded up on supplies. We set all our stuff down in a little cafe (where we all remained for about 10 hours) and streamed in and out eating, shopping, resting and reading. I bought a bowl, mug and spoon, a blanket, a sweater and some scarves, peanuts and raisins, and a pair of cheaply made boat shoes (for the hike, haha). We took an over night general class (where you cram into cars with only wooden benches and little english) train to a mountain town called Haldwani, which reminded me a lot of Bellingham, the town I went to school in. En route Josh and Lyndentree (our affectionate nickname for him) went to try to sneak into A.C. First Class for a nice snooze...it never ended up working for them, as apparently the curtains around the beds were ripped open and they were forcibly made to leave the car or pay. Anyway, the train cars, at about 2:30 in the morning, separated and half went on to Haldwani-the destination- and the other half went...elsewhere. The core group were told about this event by a nice man named Amar, but Josh and Lyndentree were out sneaking into upperclass cars, so when the time for the train to split came, Seb and I went to go find them, while the girls moved onto the half of the train that went on the Haldwani. It ended up that Josh's bag was left on the wrong end of the train and I was having a hell of a time finding the two lost boys. As I was searching, and Seb was running back at the last minute to get Josh's bag, Amar and the two Swedish girls were frantically yelling down the platform telling us they had found Josh and Lynden and to hurry up because the train cars were splitting. I stepped out of the wrong end of the train after my last-ditch effort to find the boys and I look up to see Seb hauling ass, with Josh's backpack (which is never quite closed properly) falling out all over the place, running after our train which is slowly lumbering down the platform. I run past Seb in a mad dash to make it, and he yells at me, "Help me!" and I look back and realize the horrible mess he's trying to carry and run with. The train pulled away too fast and we both collapsed at quarter to three in the morning in the middle of nowhere laughing hysterically. "This wouldn't be half as funny if I was alone!" We had a chai and a smoke and boarded the next train to Haldwani, which came a half hour later and we spent the rest of our ride munching bananas, drinking chai, and playing chess, as the Indians stared on. We arrived in Haldwani an hour after the rest, some had gotten a room in a local hotel and Lynden was wandering through the train station with a sloppy grin on his face waiting for us and the rising sun...I've never been so happy to see a goofy Canadian (save Uncle Charlie). In fact, as I laid down in our filthy little hotel for a rest at 8:30 that morning, I composed a little something to give you a feel for what turned out to be a really great night:

Arms linked,
embraced in Gratitude,
staring at the long awaited Sun.
Drifting back through the steam of roadside stalls,
us three,
aimless and free,
heading back to bed.

We spent a day in Haldwani and headed even farther into the foothills. A mountside bus ride, which was as dangerous as one imagines, then a jeep drive up and up and up to a little mountain village called Lohali. We had another rest, then hiked up through terraced garden plots and little houses tucked away on the sides of narrow cobbled pathways that led up and through the mountain slope. Goats here, women harvesting grain there, children flying kites, old men sipping chai and puffing Indian beaties (cigarettes) from verandas overlooking huge gaping valleys...absolutely stunning. That small walk alone would have been worth the whole trip.

It was an hour's hike into the forest to reach the Gathering. And when we arrived we were greeted with "Welcome Home!!!" by a young Italian girl in puffy pants boiling tea and lying on a sleeping bag. We found a spot to set up camp (with a borrowed tarp and an old pad found in the "lost and found" area--we lost our tarp and canvas on a bus earlier that day...) and tried to orient ourselves to this very foreign place and situation. The next couple days were spent wandering around, reading, listening to people play their drums and guitars, making fires and cooking rice or making tea. You could hike up about 15 minutes and be overlooking the whole valley and the surrounding hillside villages, small and rustic with terraced gardens and impossibly steep pathways winding through them. We were camped at about 4,500 ft and hiking up the ridges (which proved to be warmer at night--50's [this empirical system is beginning to drain me...]) added another 1,000 or 2,000 feet, depending on the ridge. Sometimes you'd look waaay up at a little house on the hillside, or you'd hike for a half hour and you'd look waaay down at a little house on the hillside. There were two meals a day, and they weren't very big, but were greatly appreciated. Seb and I would often sneak away to a little tent called "The Chai Shop" where there was always a kettle on and we'd sip different teas, light a cigarette, and chat idly while watching the stream roll past.

Wednesday night it rained long and hard and by morning everyone in our group had decided to pack up and leave (even though Thursday was the full moon and the event we had come to the gathering for). But by lunch time the clouds had cleared and the sun had come out and began to dry things out. We stayed that afternoon and watched the mists drift off the mountain slopes and layed in the sun, then about two hours before sunset a small group of us hiked up the ridge to a plateau and sat in the high grass letting the beauty just soak in. We walked a little higher up the peak, and from there it was a 360 degree view of all of the foothills, the valleys below with dotted villages and terraced hillsides and the beginning of the Himalayan range. Everyone was just loving it. We sat on rocks under a big gnarled tree and watched everything turn a beautiful golden hue, the clouds all lit up and the trees changed color and we bundled up in our scarves and sweaters and prepared for the moon rise off the cliff face behind us. We turned around and about 15 minutes after the sun went down, the colors changed to blue and with it the cold came in from the north and the eastern sky began to light up with the rising moon. And just off the horizon came the huge white moon just blazing. Full and shimmering and we all looked at it and each other and the changing sky to the west and the mountains and it was all so beautiful and gorgeous and I remember thinking that this is one of those nights I'll never forget. I remember feeling so Together, as in everyone that I love, everyone that I carry inside of me was there sitting and shining inside of my heart and it was All One Big Movement. Sun, Moon, Mountain, Valley, Us little observers taking part in it all, with the pastures below and the local farmers gathering in the small mountain temple on the opposite peak starting their full-moon-chants...whew. We hiked down by stunning moonlight, the stars were all pulsing and dancing and sending off waves and spirals of light and the whole valley was bathed in silver and you couldn't help but just sit on your haunches and stare wide eyed at that spectacular white orb trailing across the sky. We made it down to the cold valley and walked through the misty moonlight coming through branches, made a pot of rice and potatoes and headed to the main fire where everyone was gathered. People were sitting under blankets with sandals and plates of half eaten rice and instruments that were all laid out and there was a group of guys singing and drumming and one beared western sadhu just wailing on the harmonium a Hare Krishna mantra. We had some tea and danced and clapped and left the group at about 2:30 in the morning. I took a blanket back up on the ridge and sat bathed in moonlight in zazen till about 4 am. Then I had a cold cold sleep, until I was awoken by Lynden and we started a little fire, I massaged his feet because he had a cold sleep in a hammock and we had green tea and white rice with cashews under the warm rising sun at about quarter to six in the morning....I can't think of a better way to dance with the full moon than that.

After the gathering the group headed farther north for a better view of the Himalayas and a quiet, clean stay at a litte hilltop inn. We got both. Because of the rains, the air had cleared considerably and I saw the Himalayas in clear stunning beauty for my first time this last weekend. We spent two days reading and eating and looking at the mountains. Soaking up our time together. We cleaned ourselves and our clothes, bought some supplies for the train ride south and then Josh and I parted ways with our little traveling band.

Now, just as quickly as we jetted north, we're back down south. And it feels about three times hotter than when we left. A lot of our close friends have left Sadhana and Aviram is taking a much needed rest in a local ashram, so the place feels a bit empty. There are about four of us who have been there a while and know how the place runs (which is strange because we haven't been there long at all) and so we're helping each other to organize a group of American students who just arrived. On our ride into town today to get our usual ice cream, tea and internet fix, we took a turn on some sand and the bike fell out from under us. Josh sort of landed half on top of me, and suffered no scrapes, but a very sore lower back. My foot and knee got pretty bad gashes but when we fell about 15 old Indian men came running and hoisted us up, washed us off and wrapped the wounds, then we drove to the local health center and got it all dressed. I'll go back to see a doctor in about 20 minutes. Stings a bunch, annoying that it happened, but really nothing serious. Thanks tetanus shot!

We have another two weeks here, then up to Hyderabad for a Nandula reunion, a Vipassana retreat, and then finally back to the northwest. I'll try to post some pictures soon, there are a lot of good ones. Anyway, I hope things are thawing out and starting to bud back home. I hear life is ticking along as usual :)

Holding you in my heart for sure-- see you soon!

Sadhana, My Heart is Yours

Hello to all of you that comprise Tobin's wide world of blog readers. This is his humble traveling companion/friend/brother Josh with a guest post, which I hope will come close to meeting young Tobin's impressive level of writing. We are currently sitting in an Internet cafe in the small town of Kullyapallayam, (Sp?!) outside of Auroville in Tamil Nadu. It is about five degrees warmer in this facility than outside, making it about 100 degrees Fahrenheit in the room. No complaints here- one from the Northern latitudes just must be quite cautious about roaming around under the intense Indian sun during the afternoon hours.
Tobin and myself have been working/staying/interacting/sharing ideas and knowledge/meditating about a 15 minute scooter ride from here in a small, volunteer-driven community known as Sadhana Forest. Sadhana is magic. Sadhana Forest strives for, and creates in a very tangible way, what human communities can be in these crazy, confusing, and often destructive (socially, environmentally, et al) times of the early 21st century and beyond. Sadhana Forest shows that groups of people from all ages and ethnicities, with incredibly disparate backgrounds can come together to build and live in a completely ecologically sustainable and organic environment where the stresses and striving of the rat race are non-existent.
Sadhana Forest is a reforestation project, organic farming project, sustainable living environment, and international community-amongst other descriptions- begun in 2004 by an Israeli couple by the name of Aviram and Yorit. Aviram was a clinical psychologist who sold his home and belongings and moved his family to the south of India on land owned by the Auroville community. Aviram and Yorit have an eight-year old girl and 16-month baby girl who are being raised in Sadhana and around all of the many volunteers who shuffle in and out for two-week stays or longer. The children, Osher and Shalev, are some of the happiest, sociable and most well-adjusted children I have ever been around.
The main goal of the project is a reforestation effort to help reinstate the Tropical Dry Evergreen Forest ecosystem that once existed throughout large swaths of southern India and Sri Lanka. Prior to Auroville's coming to the area, the landscape was completely barren and dusty, and very few remnants of the Evergreen forest actually grew. Today, only .oo1% of the original area of the forest exists, but it has been steadily reappearing in Tamil Nadu since the community of Auroville was founded in 1968 and the work of bringing about the ecosystem once again began. Sadhana is completely green throughout much of its territory and there are eucalyptus trees, palm trees and date shrubs, amongst so many others. There are even a couple kinds of plants, including the jatropha shrub, whose seeds can and will be pressed into clean biofuels for diesel engines and which don't require the use of prime agricultural land, like America's ethanol fields of the Midwest. The indigenous tress, plants, and shrubs that the Sadhana Forest community has planted since its inception have had 80-90% survival rates. All of the mulch for the plants and trees is completely organic and there is absolutely no use of nitrogen- based fertilizers for the soil or ammonium-nitrate based pesticides for the fruits, vegetables, and herbs grown within the Sadhana community. The fertilizer consists of dead leaves and twigs from the forest trees, food remnants (banana peels, orange peels, vegetable remains, etc.) from our 100% vegan meals, and a nice, heaping mixture of humanure and sawdust, scooped from the dry compostable toilets within Sadhana. These organic methods of fertilizing work quite well, as evidenced by the high survival rates of the various plants and trees on Sadhana's lands, and really make our fossil-fuel based system of soil upkeep in the West look like a very avoidable tragedy. If you ever want to try stirring and scooping composted human waste and sawdust, it is actually quite pleasant and relaxing, and not as aromatic as one might think. I am a big fan of the method, to be completely honest. As well, various swaths of land have been put in production for the growth of various herbs and spices, tomatoes, carrots, bananas, yams, potatoes, etc. All of the edible products grown in Sadhana use organic systems to sprout, including crop covers, a wide variety of natural pests, and multitudes of different crops farmed in the same areas.
Sadhana receives electricity from two solar panels located in the middle of the community and they provide more than enough power for cooking, social gatherings, etc. The excess electricity is stored in a battery and one day will be used to provide power for volunteers and guests' electric-powered vehicles.
There are several thatched-roof huts, made of locally harvested wood and stuffed with dried leaves for insulation, that comprise the sleeping quarters for all the volunteers. It is quite like living as a Lost Boy in Peter Pan in a wonderful, peaceful, and eminently enjoyable environment. There is a large hut, known as the Main Hut, where the volunteers gather for meals together, for free classes and workshops ranging from Yoga to Non-Violent Activism to Creative Writing, and to just chill out and read or play the guitar or socialize. The energy surrounding Sadhana Forest is incredible and light and all the volunteers, while very unique and on their own journeys, really seem to embrace the ideals and the reality of the Sadhana . We can all connect with a common love and concern for our Earth. We can never be apart from Nature, we are a part of Nature.
Tobin is waiting for me, possibly to get some ice cream nearby, so I will wrap this up. Never before have I been around such a group of people, an international group of people from America, Britain, Israel, India, France, Sweden, Germany, Holland, etc. who bond so quickly and who are trying to live a certain ideal. Sadhana Forest is a wonderful discovery, a veritable ecological oasis in the heat of Southern India. It is truly beautiful and can serve as an inspiration for the West, a new way of living that allows us to reconnect with the Earth and to interact in a positive way with friends, where money and possessions are of no importance or use (unless you want to go into town) and where truly important issues and connections can and are being made. It is possible to not live a materialistic and solely convenience based-life and still be happy and at peace.
Until Tobin takes over, goodbye.

Tonight We Board a Train

So I'm sitting on the floor in my underwear, while strains of John Lennon stream behind me, preparing to board a train to Chennai. We've been here in Hyderabad with the Nandula crew for the last two weeks. As I said earlier, being around this little family is just so calming, inspiring, energizing, and still goes deeper than that. The first week was spent mostly at home while the rest of the family went off to work or school. Our days were filled with many important matters: napping, reading, snacking, and gazing down on the small herds of water buffalo lazily making their way across the fields out back. A lot of quiet time--provided Josh wasn't discussing the implications of our infinite cosmic architecture or the apocalyptic possibilities of environmental inaction. We went to a cultural performance and fashion show at Shim's old University (National Institute of Fashion Technology)... not sure how to describe this, other than a strange mix of young western musical influences combined with Indian youthful traditions and expressions. Does that make any sense? It didn't to me... But they were still entertaining performances and if that was the aim--it was dead on. The next night we went to a little performance by Mayukh's school, which also had dancing and singing and feats of "chess-strength" by 6 and 7 year old boys. Vijay leaned over to me and whispered, during one such feat, "I can't play that boy...he'd kill me." We met Shim's parent's: a 73 year old man, who looks like he's 50, grinned widely and gave Josh and I an extremely tight handshake, three hugs where he squeezed us slowly as hard as he could and then another hard, prolonged handshake...this was apparently a very traditional Hyderbadi greeting, one with Muslim influence, that older locals have done all their lives. Her mother is a quiet, pleasant, and crisp looking woman who gave us soft smiles and caring glances. We met Vijay's father at a train station. He was twirling his cane, waiting for the train, smiling and would ask us a question or two in between long silences. Vijay and him quietly caught up on how meditation and yoga are going, how their health is, etc. At one point I guessed that his age was 55, he said he was in his 70's, then told me and Josh to feel his arm (like gripping a 40 pound bag of sand) and his thigh (like tree trunks). Then he smacked Josh hard on the back (Josh doubled over a bit) and said, "Any children?" It went on like this until his train arrived and he promptly picked up his things and got settle on the train. We went out to the Krishnamurti Center again to hear a talk by a Buddhist scholar who was a contemporary of Krishnamurti, ate out at fancy restaurants a couple times, went out on some drives, visited a nearby temple at sunrise, went to Vijay's office, and generally try to pass on bad habits to Mayukh and joke with Shim and Vijay.

Every so often I'll get pangs of homesickness. I'll miss groggy zazen with the Choboji folks, sleeping next to Sunny and laughing with the family around Grandma's dinner table...Josh, too, said he misses certain things (notably, Caesar Salad). But there are many more things to see here, many more experiences to be had, heard, felt. And there's nowhere else we'd rather or should be (there's a recession back home anyway). Everything seems Just So.

Our next stop is Auroville. After we get settled, Josh will put in a "guest-post" and we'll let you know how things are progressing. Not much more to share. Hope you're all well and enjoying the snow that I was told fell in the Northwest last week (It's been a constant 95 everyday here... which brings a pain of its own I guess). Thinking of you often--

Mayukh (second boy from right) in the final performance of the night.

More pictures

The following pictures, from top to bottom, are from Jaipur through current (please enjoy, these took forever to upload, haha):

View of Jaipur

This is the troupe of Bengali musicians from Digi Palace in Jaipur. The old blind man is the third from the right. He was helped on stage by the third man from the left.

This is the Shahar Palace in Jaipur

Macaques below the Hanuman Temple. Greedy, filthy, perfect.

Josh walking on the ghats next to the Ganges in Varanasi

Tibetan or Nepalese monks doing their thing around the main temple, Bodh Gaya

Theravadin monks also doing their thing around the main temple, Bodh Gaya

This photo speaks for itself I think...

Josh and I. Our picture was taken by a guy from Sikkim who had spent ten years in Berkley...nice guy, 30's, long black hair, beads, Free Tibet shirt, etc.

Baju and his wife, these were our hosts who lived in Gaya, about 11 km away from Bodh Gaya

The courtyard at one of the "government guesthouses." The accommodation was adequate.

Josh and I after our day playing in the Sea. Horrible sunburns hidden beneath unaware smiles.

Typical sign in Jew Town, Cochin. Truly "God's Own Country."

One of the houseboats that can be rented on the waters.

Unimpressed fishermen in the backwaters.

Priest relaxing on the beach in Varkala, Kerala.

A sight seen every night on the beach.

A beach cafe overlooking Varkala beach.

From the cliff top looking down on Varkala.

Home Sweet Hyderabad

Ho man--- not two days ago Josh and I arrived in Hyderabad after another hot 30 hour train ride. Vijay and Mayukh were waiting for us with open arms and juice packets. Relieved to be back is putting it mildly. Coming back to Vijay and Shim's apartment was like coming Home (not like that mom), it's like stepping back into an oasis of peace and calm and depth after what has turned out to be one hell of a month. Josh and I kept murmuring to each other, like little school girls, how happy we were to finally be back here. Vijay said he was very worried about us: we were smelly, gaunt, pale, and a little spacey. When we got back to the apartment Shim had a feast of, once again, the most amazing home-made Indian food I've probably ever had. Chai tea, heaping mounds of rice, vegetables, soup, and on and on. Before we ate, Vijay gently prodded us, "I'd, um, prefer if perhaps you took a hot bath and put on some new clothes and refreshed yourselves before we eat?" After eating and bathing, we apparently regained our 'glow.' Before dinner that night Josh had a headache and reached for an aspirin, but Vijay was having none of it. He sat Josh down, told him to take off his shirt, and proceeded to massage (a mixture of massaging, rubbing, patting, and pounding) Josh's head and back with various oil mixtures. He has been studying Ayurvedic medicinal techniques for a while I guess. When it was my turn, the oils created an intense cooling sensation that Vijay rubbed/pounded into my skull. It felt amazing. He said it will allow the heat to leave the head. Josh's headache went away, I was on cloud nine, and Vijay and Shim whispered to each other in Telugu and smirked with amusement.

The past two days we've spent mostly relaxing at home. Yesterday Shim was sick so she was home with us. Vijay came home with a colleague for lunch, then we ran some errands, came home for a nap, took a walk in the evening once Mayukh got home, ate a pasta dinner, and began to prepare for bed. Josh felt like he was getting a cold and had a weird chill over his body so...Vijay and Shim once again prepared to go to work. Shim brought out some oils and told us both to go wash our feet. We came back into our room where Vijay was waiting to give us both a foot massage. I went first and he massaged my feet and legs with the oils until both limbs were sort of vibrating with rejuvenation. Then Josh, who wasn't feeling well, took my place (lying down in bed) and Vijay went to work. Conversing with Josh about what hurt on his foot, and where in his body there was pain. I was watching Vijay watch Josh, it was like watching a hawk subtly but thoroughly eyeing his prey, every so often mumbling back and forth in Telugu with Shim. They told me to look at the foot Vijay had just worked on as opposed to the foot he was about to work on: night and day. One foot had a fine sheen, a glow, a different color and even shape than the other one, it looked lean and flexible and spry, and the other one (I'm sorry to say Josh) looked rather crippled and sickly. At any rate, I found it just so stunning that this couple was treating us with such tremendous love and humility and care. I went into their room after Josh had dozed off and found Vijay giving a massage to Shim sitting on their bed (which is just a quilt laid on a marble floor...) with Mayukh sleeping soundly beside them... I tried to thank them but I couldn't quite find words; I just looked at this strange little family sitting serenely in their ancient, other-worldly kind of way.

This morning I got up at 6:15 and went into the Puja (shrine room) to wait for Vijay to come in and do his morning prayers and rituals. He stepped in at about 6:30, laid out a little mat and began preparing the oil candles, water, incense, ash and okra, etc. As I sat behind him, he performed what he performed every morning at 6:30; applying holy water to himself, the air, etc., various silent prayers, ash to the forehead and a bindhi (the red mark between the eyebrows), and then he prepared to sit in meditation. So together we sat in the dimly lit Puja, listening to car horns and morning birds and the Silence beneath them all...what a way to start the day. I had a cup of chai while Vijay and Shim and Mayukh had breakfast and prepared to take off. Now I am in their computer room, incense and Himalayan mountain music wafting behind me, preparing to upload pictures and update you all--

So since the last post in Goa we've remained on the coast of India. Our last day in Goa we spent all day out on the beach, frolicking in the waves of the Arabian Sea, giggling like idiots. Periodically we'd come back under the shade of a beached fishing boat where a father and son sat (all day) threading their nets in silence. Behind us a ways there was a little beach shack where we could go and get a $0.60 banana milkshake or fruit salad or something. But what we didn't quite realize until the sun magnificently took leave was that we had been wearing severely inadequate sunscreen under one of the harshest suns in the world. I got a pretty bad burn, but Josh was on fire. He couldn't quite sit...at all, and the rest of the night was spent in ridiculous agony. We left the beach in the darkness to find some aloe, and he spent the rest of the night in a crazed trance of pain. Many bizarre things were said that night, a lot of it in between desperate fits of laughter (and possible sobs). My burn wasn't quite that bad, and after some time of applying cool towels, mulling over how to get 50 gallons of cool water into a body-sized container and debating what a doctor would and would not do for us, I felt I had done all I could do... so I took off to the beach for a little midnight quiet under the nearly full moon. The cool ocean breeze and silver waves eased my pain considerably, but when I got back to the room I walked in on Josh acting crazier than I had left him; talking to himself, standing under the ceiling fan, hands raised to heaven, eyes tightly shut...we'd lost him. The rest of the night was filled with much the same- between the two of us we probably got a total of 45 minutes of sleep. A dear price paid for a fantastic day.

Painfully we boarded an 11pm train that took us about 15 hours south to Cochin, in northern Kerala. We spent one night there and on our departure day we took a trip out to what is officially titled "Jew Town." Which is a section of the city, closer to the Sea that is home to a several centuries old Jewish enclave. There was Jew Street, and Jew Cemetery, and "Swastik Jewish Spice Shop." Josh was in heaven (being a Jew). Unfortunately the synagogue was closed when we arrived, but there were many little shops and art galleries and strange signs to see.

Next was Alleppy, which is famous for their backwater canals and lakes. Many people rent large houseboats and stay on the actual water, but Josh and I got to stay in "government guest houses" that Vijay was able to arrange for us because his father used to work in the Indian government. We, instead, took about a four-hour-tour (uh oh...) on our own little boat. Lazily motoring through lush tropical canals with men bathing at the shore and women washing bundles of clothes and rice fields flanking either side...it was incredibly peaceful. We stopped at the side of the bank for about 15 minutes to get a fried prawn and some coconut juice, then continued on through the maze of water ways. It was a whole mess of neighborhoods out there, men in fishing boats laying out their nets and white, purple, and orange houses with goats and chickens standing next to the river with various Communist Party of India-Marxist (CPI(M)) signs or Che Guevara portraits tagged up to low hanging coconut trees (there is a strong communist contingent in Kerala, apparently they were democratically elected in the late 50's and partly attributable to their policies are the lowest levels of poverty in India, high literacy rates and greater freedom for women). A fine way to spend an afternoon.

We left Alleppy for Varkala and en route, as we were riding in our taxi, as is custom, our driver was dodging and weaving in and out of traffic. He attempted to pass a large truck, but there was an oncoming car speeding towards us: no problem, slow and pull behind the truck. As the driver slowed and began to pull back, the oncoming car arrived and at the moment we passed, the side-view mirrors hit each other. The face plate flew off and shards of glasses exploded into the window. The poor driver took the brunt of the glass, and Josh and I got a few random pieces in the back. In disbelief Josh and I asked the driver if he was okay, if we should pull over, or get insurance info, but he just assured us "No no, fine! No problem, sir! No problem!" and both cars continued on. Absolutely absurd, but no one got hurt.
We arrived in Varkala and were shown into another government guest house with about a 400 square foot room and another changing room and very large bathroom attached. We were about a 5 minute walk down through a tropical little pathway to the small, relatively quiet, picturesque beach. Various thatched-roof resorts and restaurants lined the beach and above on a cliff overlooking the beach. We were scheduled to spend one day here, but didn't want to leave, so spent another. We watched beautiful sunsets, played frisbee with a French man and an Indian boy, walked through shops, took a yoga class on a roof top back in the jungle, and quietly, serenely took in the beauty of this little city.

Last stop in Kerala was Trivandrum, the capital of the state. The guest house here was like a five star hotel, where we had a balcony overlooking a courtyard, endless cable television, a couch and chairs, and an unsolicited wake-up call at 7am demanding we tell them whether we'd like coffee or tea. I groggily replied tea and within minutes there was a young man inside of our room with a full tray handing us cups of chai as we lay half asleep in our underwear. We were supposed to take an all-day tour of the city, but because of a government strike, we were unable. Instead we took a 15 km ride out to Kovallam beach, where we sat under an umbrella and read. A nice old woman made us promise her we'd buy two fruit salads from her later (which we happily did) and various dogs came to say hello. When it got closer to sun-down we got to witness what I think is one of the most striking cultural differences between India and the west. At the ocean, in the waves, was a group (several groups actually) of men and boys, ages 10 to 60, mostly middle-aged, all roughhousing in the waves like they had just been let out for recess. We saw 50 year old men ganging up on 40 year old men, grabbing them by the ankles and throwing them into the waves, 15 year old boys would run up to 60 year old men, pull down the backs of their shorts and throw sand down them then run off, and the old man would chase him down, grab him, toss him to his friend and they'd thrash him into the surf. Rolling and laughing in the sand, hitting, running, jumping, and holding hands...it was beautiful. I've never seen such ageless brotherhood and joy shared like that. I hope when I'm an old man, it will be acceptable to pull down the swimsuit of my dear old friend and shove a fistful of sand down them as I run, cackling, into the ocean.

After that we headed back to Hyderabad. The plan was to stay with Vijay and Shim for a week, then go off again to Auroville. But they have arranged for us to stay with them for two weeks and go to a couple events with them. One of which is a couple day trip up into the mountains where there is a very old temple where there will be various services and a wedding taking place.

Over the past couple weeks I have been thinking about extending my stay, now all the logistics have been taken care of. Josh will be here until April 1st and I will stay until mid-May. We will spend a couple weeks at Auroville volunteering in what's called the Sadhana Forest (replanting trees and various other forest-restoration projects). In exchange for volunteering 20 hours a week and $3 a day for all our food we get lodging, yoga, various classes and lectures, concerts, internet access, bicycles, and of course, unfettered access to the Giant Gold Orb. It should be quite the time.
After Auroville we'll head back and spend some time at the Krishnamurti Center, also volunteering (farming and other chores or projects around the grounds). After Josh goes home I'll have a month and half at the Center, with a tentative and possible trip up to Nepal: who knows if that will pan out.

At any rate, that is the latest, I'll try to post some pictures so you can put some images to all of this. Thanks again for the comments and emails, even being this far away I feel so much love and connection with you back home. I really can't wait to see you again. :)

An Old Blind Man, Endless Prayers, the Bodhi Tree, and India's Drug Hub

Quite a haul since New Delhi. I am writing this from Goa, India. About a 3 minute walk from the beach, where the sun has just now rolled over into the Sea.

"No USB allowed" in this small shop, so no pictures, but maybe at the next stop. For those of you interested Josh has put up some pictures at PhotoBucket. Username: joshman21 Password: karmali

Here's a cut-and-dry sum-up:

After Delhi we took a train west to Jaipur. We stayed at a very nice place, aptly named the "Shahar Palace" with peacocks and fountains and chickens and manicured grass under banana trees etc etc. We arrived feeling pretty poorly, so the first day Josh was in bed all day. I felt okay so I walked down into what can only really be called the "suburbs." It was very hot and a long walk but I wanted to see the city (later I was told I had walked the "incorrect direction"). Passed camels, and heaps of trash, families living along the road in makeshift tents, where the children would all scream for me to take their picture and then jut out their hand and yell "10 rupee! 10 rupee!" They got banana's and unsolicited tickles from the out-of-place white guy, but it was all received with giggles and smiles, so it worked out.

During the nights Josh and I would ask our hosts "The Colonel" and his wife "Mrs. Singh" what we should do, and they suggested going to a place called "Diggi Palace" where they usually had music or dancing or drinks or whatever going on until around 11. So we took a bicycle rickshaw through dark smelly side streets for what seemed like forever, and finally arrived. What we walked into was a very strange scene. Apparently during our stay, the "Largest Literary Festival in Southern Asia" was going on at this hotel. Many Bollywood stars, musicians and authors all came for performances, talks, symposiums, exhibitions etc. And we wandered in bedraggled and very confused. Most everything was free--if done right. But the first night we paid for a (relatively) expensive buffet dinner that included endless drinks, etc. etc. So we sat down at the main stage with a plate full of fine Indian cuisine and two stout glasses of Cobra Indian Beer and prepared for what was to come. As the lights began to click on and the microphones were laid out and adjusted (ten minutes prior there had been intermittent power outages throughout the hotel that they had to "remedy" before the show could begin---all quite normal), we saw streaming onto the stage a troupe of Bengali musicians all clothed in things more fantastic than the next. Multi-colored turbans, long flowing robes and beards and beads and head scarfs and belts and bangles and on and on. Then one old bearded man in a yellow turban came on stage holding the hand of a little old man in an orange sweatshirt and a loosely draped dhoti of sorts. He was blind and had long grey hair and long grey beard and held a little stringed instrument. The show got underway with Josh and I sort of stunned and bewildered at what we had walked into. And at about the third song, with a long slow opening, that little old blind man who looked almost like he was the drag on the band, let out the most haunting, stunning and immaculate tone I've ever heard. He had the most incredible voice, and neither one of us was expecting to hear anything quite like it. He looked about 75 and sang like he was in his prime. I got some video of it, and if I can I will post it. Anyway after this set there was a young British woman and guitarist who wailed and sang renditions of Like a Rolling Stone and Voodoo Child, and they played until about midnight when the Bengali band came back out and they all jammed and sang and swayed until about 12:30 in front of one of the most random and bizarre groupings of people (including a very stunned Josh and I) in Jaipur, India.
The next couple days we took tours of old forts and big temples, including a Monkey Temple up on a hillside where I finally fed and interacted with monkeys for the first time in 20 years. Ever since my early obsession with primates I've wanted to touch one, and the day finally came. Although they were sort standoffish, filthy, and greedy...still awesome.

Then we took what was supposed to be about an 18 hour train ride to Varanasi. We only allotted about one day in Varanasi, which was a poor decision anyway because Varanasi is an incredible city, but the train ended up being about 10 hours behind schedule and included a transfer of trains (which a nice man helped us to navigate, thank god). So we got in at about 7 at night (and had to leave at about 5am the next morning). We found our way through the eerie and smelly alleyways to our hotel, right on the Ganges, where they weren't quite sure if they had a reservation for us. They ended up finding us a room, and so we spent that night eating, slinking through alleyways looking at all the strange people, animals, shops, and "things" (dung and sludge, trash and bikes and motorcycles and ladders, etc.). We spent some time on the Steps and tried to see what we could from the roof of the hotel, but I was feeling very sick and so we decided just to pass out. We got to the bed around 10 or 11, and laid down begin our rest, and I slowly drifted off. Then I woke up at about 2am to a shrill, loud, insistent voice coming from the rooftop of the next building over (about 4 feet over and 10 feet below our window). I didn't want to wake Josh (who was already awake and had been since about 1 because of the same sound), so I just listened and eventually fell back asleep (I think around 2:30 or 3). When we woke up at 4, because we had a train at 5:30 that we didn't want to miss, this voice was still going, just as strong, just as loud, and just as urgent. It sounded like one side of an argument, or speech or important explanation, only it had gone on for at least 4 hours straight, uninterrupted, in the middle of the night from a rooftop, surrounded by hundreds of sleeping citizens. As we left the hotel and walked through the silent, black alleyways, his voice continued, and trailed off. We decided it was probably some sort of prayer that probably would never end. On our way out we shined our little flashlight on sleeping bodies on stone slabs in the corners, huge cows (some with dogs sleeping on top of them) in 4 foot wide alleys snoozing silently, cats, and piles of trash with rats...it was actually a very eerie and bizarre and somewhat unpleasant introduction to one of the Oldest Living Cities on earth and also apparently one of the holiest.

Next stop was Gaya, near to Bodh Gaya, the spot of Buddha's enlightenment. We were staying with a wonderful family, loosely affiliated with Vijay and Shim. They had never met, but had a mutual friend. Again my stomach was in a very poor state and the wife (to this day we still aren't quite sure of her name--the husband was 'Baju') didn't speak much English so it was difficult to communicate the dietary needs. But it passed after the first two (of three) days. She was very interested in speaking with us and improving her English, and we surprisingly made it through several conversations having understood one another. The grandparents lived in the home along with two boys, 6 and 11-- the 11 year old and Baju both spoke English. The first day we walked out (the opposite direction from downtown Gaya) into the small villages and farmland-- we got bombarded by school children and curious men several times, while the women just smirked and looked at us out of the corner of their eyes. The next two days we went out to Bodh Gaya, about 12 people pile into an auto-rickshaw and drive, packed together, the 11km to the holy pilgrimage site. As you get near you begin to see Tibetans and Nepalese pilgrims and vacationers, Theravadan monks and Tibetan/Nepalese monks and nuns, and then once you arrive, you know it. Suddenly there are just throngs of saffron and maroon clad monks and nuns, prayer wheels and beads, prayer flags and all types of pilgrims--mostly from the Himalayan region. It was very powerful being at this place. The energy there is quite palpable. We spent the first day circling the main temple, that is situated right next to the actual Bodhi tree (which is I think the 9th generation of tree and not even from the same line). And sitting beneath it listening the soft hum of prayers and mantras around us. An endless flow of people circumambulate around the tree, and if you're a people-watcher, it's hard to leave. I spent a half hour just snapping pictures of all the best faces, mostly weathered old monks and pilgrims with crazy beards and missing teeth and deep, benevolent grins. Over the next two days we visited various gardens and temples surrounding the main area. The following day we made our way to the Japanese temple, and stayed for the evening service. Just one monk, unceremoniously, came in and got to work chanting and ringing the bells and beating the drum. Then he rang his little bell signaling the beginning of the 25 minute zazen period, and about 15 of us sat together listening to the birds flying in and out of the hall, school children yelling outside, and distant cars, buses and rickshaws all honking together.
I am being very brief here, because we have to leave the computer parlor soon, but know that Bodh Gaya is a very powerful and beautiful place and I will never forget my time there. Anyone going to India, Buddhist or not, would benefit from a stop at this place. The collective energy from all the different visitors is a very deep, harmonious and inspiring gift: freely given, freely received.

Then we just recently took a 40 hour train ride from Gaya to Goa (near polar opposites). We arrived yesterday. We are staying in the southern part of Goa, a quieter side with older tourists and a more mellow scene. But up north (which we inevitably visited, and will visit again) there are havens of young, dreadlocked, tie dyed, shirtless, and dazed Europeans (haven't met an American yet--last one was in Delhi). Down the lanes with palm fronds drooping over and incense wafting through and an accumulation of rave-techno-trance music, reggae and sitar ragas all playing over each other, shops sell bags with pot leaves and mushrooms and elves on them, shirts with Bob Marley next to shirts with Gandhi next to shirts with Che Guevara, beads and bells and pipes and bongs, fruit, sandals, and anything else you would really need on holiday in Southern India. The beaches are dotted with old French men in thongs, shirtless Italian women sunbathing, young rich Indians from Mumbai, local Goans trying to get you to buy something (anything), dogs, the occasional cow, and then us. Tomorrow there's a large world-famous flea market in Anjuna beach (far north) and we will go to that and spend the day there.

For those of you who we occasionally reach by phone, Josh inadvertently walked into the waves of the Arabian Sea last evening with several items in his pockets...one of which was our cell phone. So there may be a break in the calls for a time. Although he has a calling card and so we'll try to find a pay phone we can call out from--shouldn't be a problem.

Josh is ahead of me reading about the Mariner's and Obama policies. We're both in good spirits, it's hot out, we miss home, we love it here, and I'll put up some pictures asap! Thank you for the comments all, it's nice to hear from you!