Trudy Jones

My mother died yesterday. I'm in Viet Nam at the moment, and this is
my understanding of what happened after speaking with my father today
on a short phone call. She had a stroke on Monday evening and was
taken to the hospital unconscious. The medical staff were unable to
revive her and she died in her sleep in the morning of the Wednesday
the 19th. Her body has been cremated and will be interned shortly in
a lovely memorial garden at her church. There will be a memorial
service when I return. I had originally planned to return in early
March from my travels, but I now need to sit with that decision and
see if that still feels ok. In any event there will not be a memorial
service for at least a month so that all who would like to come may
make arrangements to travel to Springfield Missouri.

I was lucky to have a good conversation with my mother on Sunday. It
was upbeat and we discussed many things, including how we both enjoy
Thai food and that we love each other. It feels very good that I got
to tell her that I love her and to say goodbye. My father was also
able to have a moment alone with her in the hospital towards the end;
and was able to get a sense of closure. My father is in a supportive
environment and he continues to receive "more sympathy than he
deserves" :-)

I am fortunately traveling with a friend for a few more days who is
wonderful and emotionally supportive, but we have also just learned
that her grandmother is in the hospital and in serious but stable
condition and will have to go home as soon as she can get space
amongst the holiday travelers crossing the Pacific Ocean.

I feel terrible and confused of course. About the time when she
passed away I was purchasing a gold bracelet for her in Bangkok. I'm
not sure what I am supposed to do with it now. Before I left Bangkok
I sent a postcard to my parents addressed to "Mom and Dad", it is in
the mail now. It is my birthday today and I plan to have a nice
dinner in the charming Vietnamese town Hoi An, where I'm having a
tuxedo tailored for me, there are Christmas trees with blinking
lights, "Frosty the Snowman" is played in restaurants, and old women
who have probably seen more sorrow than any of us; pedal by on old
fashioned bicycles with conical hats and smiles on there faces in the
warm sunshine -- it feels surreal beyond all imagining.

The plan is to to keep traveling for now and allow the spaciousness of
travel to help me sort out my feelings and figure out when I am coming
back.

My first under water photos

I'm in Koh Lanta now, it has a very lovely beach that has a nice combination of being developed enough to have nice restaurants and other conveniences, but things are mellow enough so that it doesn't feel crowded or overly expensive like its popular neighbors.

This is the very last picture I took with my camera of a tube worm, before the seal broke on my camera housing. There is a fellow in the dive shop trying to repair it, but the prognosis doesn't look good. Saltwater just isn't a good choice for digital cameras. Thankfully the memory card came through fine.

I just thought this Barrel Sponge looked pretty cool.

This little guy was just about four feet from me. That is a banded sea snake -- one of the most deadly snakes in the world, but perfectly harmless to diver unless you do something really really dumb. I avoid doing dumb things underwater and focus on the looking part.

See you soon.

Tech Diving: Overcoming fear through inner peace

I don't have my housing just yet so here is a picture of a guy dressing in the technical diving gear similar to what I was wearing (I was smiling though).

I just finished my first technical diving course here on Koh Tao, in Thailand. Recreational scuba divers are limited to a depth of 40 meters and dive times. I can now go 18 feet deeper to 45 meters and have much longer dive times. Five meters may not seem like much, but its the threshold from a fairly simple scuba setup, to diving with a dive shop along; its about having to stay underneath the water to decompress, monitoring things more closely (constantly), and having several redundant systems, plans, special training for emergencies, and determining gas mixes you breath. Yes -- using that algebra you learned in secondary school to calculate how much oxegen you can safely breathe without killing yourself -- who knew math could be so useful. I feel like I'm a better diver for it, and I look forward to diving deeper soon.

Some impressions: Even though you have to stay underwater for a period of time to avoid the bends, you feel a little safer in a way because you have several redundant systems, whereas with recreational diving you assume that you can always drop your weight belt and pop to the surface like a cork ( don't hold your breath though ). Its good not to asume. It feels awkward at first because there is about 30% to 200% more gear to carry but it all sorts itself out underwater. It's also fun stumbling around on the boat deck with all that black scuba gear looking like you are going to be shot out a torpedo tube on a submarine.

There was some training exercises that involved taking off your mask and then doing tasks like opening and shutting valves. I really don't like doing this, ( you know, breathing out of a hose, trying not to suck in seawater, with your eyes closed, fumbling about doing awkward tasks, with 30 feet of ocean above your head. It is all quite safe because there is a highly trained instructor right in front of you, but that lizard brain keeps saying -- "Your going to drown!!!" It really brings up feelings of fear, anxiety, annoyance, and frustration -- which all have to managed with a sense of inner calm, peacefulness, relaxation, and gentle breathing. Perhaps someone could create an underwater workshop called "Overcoming fear through inner peace" Taught in a unique environment this course will help the student manage fear though life affirming breathing exercises.

A few words about my instruction. I'm staying at the Buddha View dive resort in Koh Tao Thailand. It's a nice facility, the staff is friendly, the prices are good, and I feel I got a fairly treated. It does cater to a young crowd and you can here drunken European accented voices singing along with Oasis at 11 at night. Many divers are coming and going it is a place of constant activity. The seas were a bit rough as well so that limited some the dive activities. The best dive was the last dive which was in about 15 feet of water. Having all the techgear felt a little silly, but the goal was training. I understand that the weather is better at other times.

Sometimes the instruction seemed a little rushed, and I would have liked to here more anecdotal information along with the facts, but I was on a limited schedule which they accommodated, and I was the only person in the class which was pretty cool. I would recommend them, and the prices are good.

Don't panic. :-)

Back in Thailand

We are headed up to Chiang Mai, after visiting Angkor Wat for the last several busy days. Good thing we were in the nice warm waters of the Indian Ocean and not the Antarctic.

http://www.klewtv.com/news/national/11757191.html

Offline until the 21st -- Diving the Similans

Just an FYI Shannon and I are going to be on a boat scuba diving in the Similan Islands off Western Thailand for the next 4 days. For emergencies we can be contacted through the dive shop.

http://www.khaolakscubaadventures.com/livea.html

Bali-wood

Oct 15 – Sanur to Nusa Lembogan, Bali

It’s time to go diving! We caught the Parama boat (a 48 passenger, motorized outrigger) to Nusa Lembogan, one of a gathering of small islands off the Southeast corner of Bali. These islands are known for their excellent diving, and I was eager to get started. Chilling today at the homestay, and tomorrow, diving! Oct 16 – Nusa Lembogan What a crappy night’s sleep! I think the sheets had been washed in ocean salt water and not totally dried or something. Ugh. Super itchy all night. Dreams of ants crawling all over my body. Itchy itchy itchy. And of course, not quite awake enough to do something sensible like get my sleep sack from my backpack.

Coffee to get started and off to the dive shop down the coral encrusted beach. This kind of beach is absolutely beautiful because it’s mostly made up of chunks of bleached white coral. However, don’t think of going barefoot in it unless you want your feet to get thoroughly chewed by the stuff. Very sharp.

I was a little nervous because it had been some time since my last dive – maybe about five years. I did some refresher reading from my diving instruction book so was ready for at least setting up my tanks, BCD (buoyancy control device), reg and all that good stuff that keeps you alive under 20 meters (or more) of water. The thing that made me nervous was the actual dive.

Some of you might know that the reason that I started diving was to overcome a mild phobia of the ocean. That fear still sits with me even though I’ve completed some pretty advanced dives in various conditions. See, the first time you go in the water after a long break can be scary. You’re breathing out of a tube, surrounded by another world of creatures and plants. The water changes your vision, your weight, your movement. And it’s BIG. Another statement by Ms. Obvious, but seriously, it’s hard to get really how BIG it all is until you’re under there. It’s massive and since you don’t have gills, you get that, really, you’re not necessarily supposed to be there.

So going down the first time after a while, you can get a little panicky, which is absolutely the worst thing you can do if you’re diving. When you’re nervous or anxious, you not only suck up all your air faster, but you just don’t get to experience all the wonder you possibly could that’s there (and you feel a little like a dolt because you’ve made your dive buddy or divemaster surface much sooner than anyone else).

Once we arrived at the dive site, Pura Mesgading, and I came off the back of the boat, I just tried to breeeaaathe. Did I say you’re breathing out of a tube and you can’t surface unless it’s an emergency? Breeeatthhe… Crazy fish and plant life… brreeeaaatthhe… trying to get your buoyancy adjusted so you don’t shoot to the surface or sink to the bottom… breeeaaatthhhe…

A moray eel! How cool is that?? Beautiful coral in light pink, peach, purple. Gorgeous, multicolored fish of all shapes and sizes darting this way and that or just lazily riding the water from here to there. Blue, green, orange, pink, fuchsia plants waving gracefully in the current. It’s all so beautiful! Breeeatthe…

As the minutes passed, I became more relaxed into the experience and my “dive legs” began to return. Then, before I knew it, it was time to surface, complete my three minute, five meter safety stop and hop back onto the boat to travel to the next dive site.

The group was hoping to see a mola mola on this trip. Everyone was, in fact, rooting for it. The mola mola is also known as the sunfish – a very large flat fish, shaped like a sun that you’d see drawn in a children’s painting. For a pic of the sunfish, check out http://www.starfish.ch/collection/pelagics.html. Amazing, isn’t it? Something totally prehistoric looking. These are pretty difficult to spot, but if you’re lucky, you may find him languidly flapping his very big fins about, coasting out into deeper waters. On this next dive, I was just really excited. I had my initial nervousness out of the way and was ready to get in the flow (so to speak) and just drop into the ultra present state you can get into while diving.

Immediately, when the first diver dropped into the water, she shouted, “There’s a sea snake and a mola mola!” Wow, two creatures not often seen on a typical dive, one of which is horribly poisonous and can easily kill a human. Supercool! I got in the water as soon as I could and there he was, the kooky looking but somehow gorgeous mola mola. He was just slowly flapping his fins, out toward the open ocean, not bothered at all by these strange, rubber clad creatures in the water staring at him with total awe and complete delight. It’s the great thing about nature, I think… just how truly neutral it is. No plans, no malice, no nothing. Just being. And fortunately, no sea snake, though a part of me was disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to add that to my dive log.

This dive was in Crystal Bay, which proved to be very challenging. After spotting the mola mola, the dive got underway and we hit a very strong current that wanted to suck us all out into the open ocean. The divemaster had us all grab onto a rock face and hang on so that we didn’t get separated and drawn away. This current also brought in pushes of freezing cold water, which was shocking against the warmer water we’d been diving in. The current and cold water also affected the visibility, much like in the desert when you see the heat rising off the desert floor making everything appear wavy and distorted. It was wild and I was glad that, by that point, I had become more comfortable under the ocean. Still, it was quite and experience, and besides the mola mola, the most notable thing about the dive.

We surfaced, and the rest of my day was spent resting and relaxing on the beachfront, looking out at the beautiful ocean and all the seaweed farmers tending to their crops. The main cash crop out of Nusa Lembogan is seaweed. The farmers grow large fields of the stuff just off the beach, and the fields become invisible or exposed depending on the tide. Like any farmer, they (they being mostly women) tend to the crop every day, growing, harvesting, drying, and packaging up their crop for shipment to processing plants that turn this crop into carageenan, an emulsifying agent that’s used to thicken ice cream, cheese, and other products. The labor that this takes is quite intensive, but a new crop can mature in as little as 45 days. Think of that next time you have a big scoop of triple chocolate fudge brownie delight!

That evening, I watched the sun set over the island, enjoying the warm air and sweet ocean breeze on my skin.

Tonight, I sleep with the sleep sack!

Oct 17 – Nusa Lembogan to Pemuteran

We caught the Perama boat back to the mainland and hired a private driver to transport us and all our worldly possessions to the exact opposite side of Bali. Just a note here that hiring a private driver is just a little more expensive than taking a bus, and with a driver, you get A/C plus stops along the way to sightsee and take pictures. We decided the additional 10 bucks or so was worth it.

The driver went through the center of Bali, through the purple blue mountains, the lush forest, the vibrant green rice paddies. The mountainous country in Bali is spectacular. Looking from the top of a peak, you can see miles and miles of valley, flat and fertile and flourishing. Everything seems so *alive*. If humanity were to disappear, all houses, buildings, mosques, temples would be covered completely within 10 years, and broken apart and decaying within 20 -- *that’s* how alive it feels. And I love that feeling. There’s this sense that nature is definitely in control, not humans. And I think that this feeling demands a kind of respect, a kind of acknowledgement of the force of nature from those living there.

We reached Pemuteran after four hours of driving and settled into a beautifully decorated Balinese style bungalow, complete with a high vaulted ceiling with a grass roof over large beams, a beautifully carved teak canopy bed and other furnishings, and frangipani flowers laid out in patterns on the bedding and nightstands. And the icing on the already delicious cake? This was rented for about $20 a day (breakfast included). As the sun set, I walked along a deserted black sand beach and admired the incredible beauty that seems to be everywhere, in some form or other, in Bali.

Oct 18 – Pemuteran

My search for the perfect flip flops continues. In India, I bought “The Flesh Eaters”. In Bali, I swapped out the Flesheaters for “The Planks”. But The Planks are pretty damn comfortable, despite their plankiness. The last time I was in Bali, I bought a miraculously comfortable pair of flip flops for like, $1.50 that, when you wore them, you felt like you were barefoot, except better and more velvety. When those finally broke back in the U.S., I was heartsick. Now, I’m hoping that The Planks will be the magical replacements. We shall see…

I hung out on the beach, just about a 10 minute walk up the main road. Pemuteran is really just a small village with a few resorts, markets, and dive shops, plus small huts/houses for those who work in or own those establishments.

The beach in Pemuteran is gorgeous. Fine black sand on one side of a jetty, and fine white sand on the other. Today, I simply laid on a lounge chair in the hot hot sun, listened to music on my iPod, read my book, and swam in the ocean. Another perfect and amazing day in paradise.

Tomorrow, diving!

Oct 19 – Pemuteran

What strikes me about Bali is how beautiful everything is. When you’re at the beach, you can appreciate the azure ocean, the white and black sand beaches, the view to the mountains, towering and hazy in the far distance. And when you’re inland, you can appreciate the lush greenery, from the many different types of palm trees, to the giant elephant ear leaves, to the vines, spilling out over the trees and off the cliffs, to the ancient looking ?? that look like they were once food for the dinosaurs. And throughout it all, there’s the incredible food and the beautiful Balinese children. And I feel like all of this is only the beginning of my whole perception of Balinese nature and culture.

Diving today!

The first site was called the Eel Garden located in the Taman National Bali Barat, or West Bali National Park). This includes 7000 hectares of coral reef and coastal waters. The dive was absolutely flawless. Great temperatures above the water and under. Loooog visibility. Beautiful animal and plant life. I saw my first lion fish, which are poisonous to people, but absolutely beautiful to see. Check out http://divegallery.com/lionfish.htm for a spectacular picture of these amazing creatures. The dive is called Eel Garden for a reason. Upon approaching a sandy bar on the ocean floor, a hundred or so small snakelike eels peeked their heads about six inches above the sand to wave their heads and bodies in the water and capture food. Seeing their bodies gently swaying in the soft surge was like seeing a tall grass waving in the wind. At first, I thought they were vegetation, but when I approached, their little bodies disappeared inside their holes and then reappeared after we passed them. For a view into what I saw, visit http://www.richard-seaman.com/Wallpaper/Nature/Underwater/Misc/RedSeaGardenEels.jpg. I also saw the ghost pipefish (see http://www.calacademy.org/gallery/main.php?g2_itemId=13353) as well as the venomous stonefish, both of which simply look exactly like where they live. The ghost pipefish is tiny… I mean really tiny, and it lives on coral that looks exactly like it. And the stonefish looks exactly like a rock sitting on the reef. It’s uncanny how these creatures have adapted and learned how to best protect themselves and how best to feed themselves. I think that, above the water, we might be so used to seeing how this happens, or even be very separated from nature in our urban environments that we’ve forgotten how completely miraculous it is. And when you’re under the water, you get to experience the wonder of it all, all over again because it’s so unique and strange. I often feel like a kid when I go under… constantly in awe and wonder, my eyes wide and sometimes even laughing out loud through my regulator. If I didn’t have to breathe through my reg, I’d also have my mouth agape.

We surfaced after a very relaxing and wondrous dive and stopped at an abandoned island for lunch, which consisted of some completely delicious Balinese food prepared old school, traditional style. Have I already mentioned how utterly fantastic Balinese food is? We chatted with the divemaster, who, like many divemasters who I seem to encounter, are more hardcore, cussing, tattooed sea pirate than anything else. We snorkeled a bit and then our surface time was up so we could get back in the H2O.

The second dive that day was called “The Bat Cave”. Another spectacular, relaxing, beautiful, perfect dive with all the right conditions and all the amazing plant and animal life. Here I saw the spaghetti worm, orange and black and white striped clownfish who would sneak out from their waving anemone homes to curiously check me out then dart back into their anemone homes when I reached out to make contact with them, big sea slugs, parrotfish rainbow bright multicolored and feeding on the coral, and more, stonefish, hiding away on their rocks and stoically peering up and curious divers. There were so many other species of fish, and too many to name. And I don’t even know where to begin with the plant life and coral!

Here’s an entry I wrote to a friend after I took these very impactful dives…

Well, something wonderful happened while I was diving the other day. I was in Pemuteran diving the West Bali National Park and I had that Moment. You know, the Moment when you lose yourself, when you feel the ancient ocean holding you, when you feel like you’ve returned, like you’re part of something antediluvian… mystical. You’ve become connected to the All, and you are the All. And the All is magnificent and beautiful and awe-some. And you’re humbled that this is what it IS and that you’re really part of something so monumental, so deep, so indescribable. There are simply no words. Several times, I was so deeply moved under the water I had to hold back tears… I was so moved by the power of this universe, this planet, this ocean. There is simply no other experience in Nature that I’ve had as big as the ones I’ve had under the ocean. And I’m filled with this intense gratification that can only come from that experience.

I love diving. I just really love it. It scares me, it thrills me, it connects me to Nature.

This is what diving is becoming to me. More, more more…

Oct 20 – Pemuteran to Tulamben

On our way out of town, we stopped at a temple, perched on a cliff face and overlooking the ocean. Carvings of dragons and gods (and dragon gods), fierce and protective, balanced on the outside of the temple and over the temple gates. A large and intimidating carving of Garuda hovered over the exit of the temple, gazing with his piercing visage out over the ocean crashing up against the black rock. Stairs led down the exit, descending down to the water, where you could see more, smaller temples carved into the cliff face.

I entered wearing the traditional sarong and sash, provided by a temple guardian. Inside, several people were dressed in traditional Balinese garb, completing their afternoon of worship, kneeling on the ground, palms pressed together and held to the forehead and frangipani flower perched atop, then bowing with forehead to the ground while prayers were chanted.

Many pictures and then on to Pulaki Temple, just across the road. This temple was filled with macaque monkeys, and none too friendly, either. In fact, they were a little confrontational and aggressive for my own comfort. Despite the monkeys running wild, several devotees continued on with their prayers. That’s devotion.

After fleeing Monkeyville, we continued on through the countryside and arrived at Air Panas Banjar, a hot springs area popular with locals and Balinese, Indonesian, and Western tourists. Eight fierce-faced stone naga pour water from a natural hot spring into the first bath, which then overflows via the mouths of five more naga into a second, larger pool. In a third pool, water pours from a 3 meter high spout to give a pummeling massage. This is all set in an incredibly tropical and verdant setting – green green everywhere, layer upon layer of green and highlighted with spots of purple, fuchsia, and pink flowers. As I was soaking in the pools, the rain started and then transformed into a tropical downpour. Everything seemed wet, moist, humid, muggy, sultry, dripping, soaked through and through. It was weird and sort of uncomfortable and completely splendid.

After getting as dry as possible (not very dry, really), we departed and finished our trip to arrive in Tulamben on the East Coast of Bali.

Oct 21 – Diving Tulamben and Travel to Padangbai

The main and important reason to travel to Tulamben is to a wreck dive. The USS Liberty was a cargo ship that was sunk over 60 years ago by a torpedo from the Japanese forces. The wreck is just 50 meters offshore, so you can do a shore dive, meaning you can get all your gear on and wade out to the water vs. take a boat and do a backward roll off the side into deep water. I took two dives on this wreck and both were beautiful, ghostly, and haunting. To see this human-made leviathan of steel taken over by the sea is something totally unique. Sea life has infiltrated the ship, turning its grey frame into a multicolored aquarium of teeming life. But somehow, you can still imagine that people crewed this ship, and that other people, for some insane reason, decided that trying to sink the ship and kill as many people as they could on board was a good idea. I’ll never really understand that, you know? But that’s a totally different conversation and if anyone wants to ask me what I think of warfare and people murdering other people because some government said to do it, I’ll be happy to sit down with a beer and some peanuts and have that conversation.

Anyhow…

These dives were the third and fourth times I’d dove this site, and my wonder was no less than the first two times. I saw two blue spotted stingrays, nestling themselves down into the sand, as well as conquered a bit of my mild claustrophobia by doing some tight swimthroughs. The experience was amazing all around, including prompting me to think about war, the wonder of human engineering, and ultimately, the absolute power and perfection of nature – the Gaia, as it’s been called.

After these two dives, we packed up and high tailed it off to Padangbai, a launching point for our next destination.

We checked into this gorgeous hotel room, complete with all the amenities including a pool bar, an in room fridge with minibar, a TV with satellite and a DVD player, and this unbelievable outdoor bathroom complete with a black stone garden and Buddha fountain. The bathroom, really, was something that I just can’t get over. It’s a little disconcerting, at first, to have a pee on a regular toilet and shower in the open air – different from camping since it’s so posh and luxurious. But I got used to it, anyway ;-) If only the Bay Area was warm enough for something as cool as that! And of course, we got this beautiful room for a mere pittance.

We had one of the most amazing meals of my travels in Bali at a restaurant down the street, which was architected and decorated in all ways Balinese. I’m sure the food was great, but it was especially great after a strong glass of arak, a strong Balinese liquor, which really sneaks up on you, if you know what I mean. The owner was an outgoing Balinese woman who greeted us at our table and chatted with us for a while. I have to point out that it’s been refreshing and wonderful to see women in active roles here in Bali. Definitely a change from Egypt and India, where most women are mostly kept quiet and tucked away, save for a few here and there. Shrimp crackers, spring rolls, Cap Cay, and arak. Seriously, the food here is absolutely spectacular. Textured, sweet, tangy, salty, spicy, all in the same bite!

Back online -- Blog post about Bali, from Thailand

I feel bad about not posting for a while, Bali was quite a whirlwind and I didn't post anything the whole time I was there. So here is some catchup -- from Thailand. These are a collection of pictures that I happen to like from Bali, they are a little diverse.

The first picture here was of a young girl who was performing a traditional Balinese dance -- Legong. The costumes were beautiful, detailed, and intracate, and wow check out the crazy makeup. The interesting/cool thing about this particular dance is that she and her partner both kept their eyes closed the whole time while sidling about the courtyard of a temple -- and there was fire :-) There was a guy dressed up like a horse running around the courtyard walking on hot coals and kicking them almost but not on top of the tourists from the Midwest.

This last one is a from the door lintel above the entrance to a temple. I love the contrast with the general character of Bali, which seems relaxed, friendly and gentle. Imagine seeing this every time you went to worship.

Finally here is a photo of a baby macaque -- sort of a preview of coming attractions and the story of the stolen sunglasses.

Leh and Delhi, India; Bali, Indonesia

Oct 8 - Leh

Not much today except for some gift shopping. One comment is that negotiating here is so much more pleasant and reasonable than what I’ve experienced in the rest of India. I experience Leh as simply a more peaceful place all around.

This evening, we went to a Tibetan restaurant/bar. It had traits of the bar that you see in the beginning of “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom” -- a bit cleaner, a bit better lit and instead of a hardcore drinking match for entertainment, there was a TV blaring soccer and cricket matches. A large group of Indian military officers came in and began to pass around the whisky bottle. The other patrons, all men, were also drinking their large beers and smoking up a dense cloud. One used his cell phone as a tinny radio and started blaring Indian pop music, too, just for some extra mood noise.

What occurred to me was that this was the Leh version of a he-man sports bar. And I was the only woman in the place. It was a funny moment (funny ha ha and funny strange).

Oct 9 - Leh

A five-hour trip car trip to Pangong Tso Lake, one of the largest lakes in Asia, which bridges both India and Tibet. Dirt roads -- and sometimes no roads -- just driving through large patches of water , hoping we’d make it to the other side without stalling or getting stuck. Large Tata trucks (Tata is the SE Asian equivalent of rolling the Caterpillar, General Electric, Lipton, and a few other major corporations all together into one big, superrich conglomerate) carrying Tibetan and Indian road workers driving along the pass. Every so often, the trucks would let a few workers off to work on the “roads”. With no machinery available, the workers used simple tools like small hammers to break up rocks or bundles of stiff reeds to sweep the roads clear of rocky debris. This boggled my mind, thinking of the length of time it must take these workers to get anything significant done. And as soon as it’s done, I assume that everything would need fixing/cleaning again so the cycle would start over? I guesstimate that it would take three workers four weeks to do what one heavy machine could do in one-half hour in the US. No wonder the workers were able to lay down in the middle of the road and take a nap.

The one other interesting part of this excursion: I can now say that I traveled through the second highest mountain pass in the world.

Oct 10 - Leh and back to Delhi

Early morning, we caught out plane back to Delhi, where in 36 hours, we’d depart India for Bali, Indonesia. I was sad to leave Leh, wondering again if I’d ever see it’s solitary beauty, stand in awe of the Himalayas, or exchange a friendly Namaste with a smiling local resident. I suppose I may be called back since it’s hard for me to be separated from the places and people I love for too long.

Oct 11 - Delhi

Today was an administrative day, but no less of an adventure than other days in India. Dealing with businesses and government offices in India seems almost as much of an adventure than taking a trek to the far reaches to see some ancient monument.

From what I’ve experienced, businesses in India operate very differently and with a very different work ethic than in the US. An obvious statement, I’m sure, but odd and often frustrating when experienced first hand. At best, there seems to be a laissez-faire attitude (for lack of a better term) toward clientele, and often times, what would appear to a Westerner as outright apathy in those employees who seem to serve primarily Indian customers.

For instance, visiting the Delhi DHL office (a US-based logistics company with offices and shipping centers all over the world). One of the two employees was listening to his walkman the whole time we were there, even though there was another client waiting in line behind us. The woman who served us was knowledgeable about the paperwork but said, “I can’t take a credit card for payment because the paper tape in the machine is out.” Instead of simply looking in her supply drawer to get a new roll of paper tape and reload the tape in the machine (a three minute job -- I know because I’ve done it a hundred times before at my college job), she just said that they can’t take credit cards. She just simply didn’t want to go through the minimal effort to do it. So after some urging, I convinced her to load up the tape and the transaction was completed.

What may seem idleness or inefficient to us is simply normal to those who experience the system every day, if you know what I mean.

After the DHL experience, a visit to the post office to ship some other gifts home via “slow boat”. Really, this wasn't much different than visiting the post office in the US. The main difference between these two government offices was the lines. I've described “lines” in India before, and this was a beautiful example of the pure chaos of many people wanting to get served right now, and too many people at that. At one point, a young Indian man blatantly stepped right in front of me in the jumbled line and I when I said “Ahem, excuse me, there’s a line here,” his reply was a smirk and a smug “No problem”. He didn’t budge from his place about ½ inch in front of me . After one full month in India by this time, I had really reached my limit with this stuff. I stuck my pointy little elbow right into his solar plexus and needled him out of my way with a, “Yes, there is a problem. Go to the back of the line.” Feeling a little like I was submitting to a system that I didn’t agree with, but still standing my ground, he begrudgingly moved to the back of the line where he obviously complained to another Indian man about me in Hindi and they had a good laugh at my expense. Ahh well, the joys and absurdities of traveling in India.

Later that day, after all the scurrying about trying to get envelopes and packing materials, shipping things, standing in lines, and all that rubbish, I visited the Baha'i Temple in another part of the city.

If you’ve never seen this amazing place, take a look at http://www.terragalleria.com/pictures-subjects/traditional-asian-temples/picture.traditional-asian-temples.indi38505.html (sorry for the long URL). Isn’t it amazing? In fact, this design was used as the inspiration for our Burning Man project, Temple of the Deep, back in 2002 and 2003 (see http://draves.org/pix/frame3.cgi?zoom=1&dir=2002-09-burningman&file=DSC00170.JPG).

The structure is amazing. All sacred geometry and inspiration. Everything pure form and line and harmony and beauty. Everything painstakingly designed, architected, and constructed. Another structure for the glory of God.

What struck me as much as the structure itself, were the Baha'i worshippers who had volunteered to staff the site and guide tourists through their visit. They were from all over the world, Indian, English, Australian, Pakistani, American, Canadian, and so on. This is perfectly in alignment with one their core beliefs – diversity and togetherness – the oneness of humanity. Others include:
- Equality of women and men
- Harmony of science and religion as two complementary systems of knowledge that must work together to advance the well being and progress of humanity
- Elimination of prejudice
- Establishment of a world commonwealth of nations
- Recognition of the common origin and fundamental unity of purpose of all religions
- Spiritual solutions to economic problems and the removal of economic barriers and restrictions
- Abolition of extremes of poverty and wealth
- Adoption of a world auxiliary language, a world script, and a uniform and universal system of currency and weights and measures

Fascinating! It sounded great to me and so I secured an invitation to the Information Center at the temple site. Inside was a beautifully laid out history, as well as historic religious texts, of the Baha'i faith. It was like a museum with Baha'i docents there to answer all your questions about the Baha'i faith. I engaged in a conversation with a docent/follower about Baha'i in order to get a better idea, first hand, of what the faith prescribed. One thing in particular I found interesting was the idea of the harmony between science and religion. “How does the Baha'i faith resolve this, especially since religion contains absolutes while science doesn’t?” I asked him. I loosely quote his response here, “Prophets from other times had teaching relevant to what was happening at the time that they taught. For instance, the reason that the Bible taught not to eat pork was that pigs weren’t being slaughtered properly at the time and so carried disease. It made sense to make a religious law that said ‘Don’t eat pork unless I, a holy man, kill it in the appropriate way.’ Now, that kind of law doesn’t really matter. People know how to prepare meat so that it doesn’t make people sick. In Baha'i, if doctrine said to not eat meat and then that law became irrelevant because of advances in understanding, the faith would change that law. As science helps us understand, so the laws of the faith can change to suit the times so that it’s most relevant and most useful.”

I love it. Really, the whole thing sounds pretty great. However, I did end up throwing a few stumpers out there, which got me quizzical looks in response. For instance, I asked “So the Baha'i faith says that there is an afterlife and that’s where we’re meant to be – in the arms of God. What if a scientist proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there was no afterlife? How would the Baha'i faith respond to that?” I was asked to repeat the question several times, which I obliged. I just got that perplexed look, like he simply couldn’t understand what I was asking. The response I received was something like, “But the faith states that there is an afterlife…” and again with the kind of sputter and quizzical look. I was sorry that I’d stumped him because he was so kind and gentle during our conversation. And I was also sorry because, of all the world’s religions I’ve studied, this looked extremely promising.

Something that I found that I kept bumping up against in India – the spiritual capital of the world – was this idea of the fallibility of many organized religions and my own struggle to resolve them and find faith, hope, and maybe even answers in a very difficult, confused, and confusing world.

I’m still considering all of this, and it may be that I’ll consider it further for the remainder of my time here on planet Earth. But who knows? Perhaps Maitreya Buddha will come on down and answer all my questions? It could happen.

Regardless, when I return home, I plan to do some more research into the Baha'i faith. The structure of the faith and the way in which they “govern” themselves is very, very compelling and if nothing else, I’m sure I could learn a lot about decentralized, organizational dynamics and large, non-hierarchical group decision-making, which could prove very useful considering recent discussions about various communities – both existing and yet to be formed – in the Bay Area.

Oct 12 – Goodbye India, Hello Indonesia

We departed India after the lovely final chaos of the Delhi airport. We arrived in Singapore in order to catch the connecting flight to Denpasar, Bali, Indonesia.

Wow! The Singapore airport was cleeeeeeaaaannn! I mean spotless. It was freaky after the month of constant grunge of India. Everything was tidy and neat and shiny and sparkly! Everything was well maintained, polished, preened, organized, linear, and orderly! I realized that I didn’t have to put gobs of hand sanitizer on every time after I touched something. It was a complete mindbender. I had some food, sanitarily prepared by the food court employee who came completely outfitted with plastic gloves, plastic apron, and all. Seriously, it was wild. And, there were free, fast internet connections! I ordered a birthday present for a friend from Amazon.com and checked my email. Luxury!

Then off to catch the connecting flight to Denpasar.

We arrived in Kuta in mid-evening. As those of you know who have been to Bali, Kuta is the bacchanalia capital of the island and it comes complete with Starbuck’s, KFC, Dunkin Donuts, Billabong, Dolce & Gabbana, and Polo by Ralph Lauren (plus many more). Kuta is to Australians as Cancun is to the U.S. Raucous college and high school aged kids come here to party hard for their break, and those Aussies know how to drink and smoke. The main strip is lined with nightclubs and ultra lounges serving cheap but luxurious food and strong cocktails and showcasing live DJs spinning Middle-Eastern and Asian inspired trance as well as four-on-the-floor booty and disco house for all you ladies in the place.

On my last visit to Bali in 2001, I arranged it so that I skipped over Kuta entirely. Drunken college kids falling down yelling “BRO! More BEER!” at each other in obnoxious voices isn’t really much my cuppa tea, you know?

But, because of our late arrival and a full day of tiring traveling, we needed to get a room in Kuta for the night. Traffic on the strip was brutal, but we finally got to a hotel and checked in. Truthfully, after the hard travel of India, it was nice to sit in a clean, ultra modern, tres cool restaurant with great lighting and good chill music and have a cold Bintang (the beer of Bali) and some superdelish spring rolls. Somehow, we steered clear of the alpha party goons that night, and had a lovely, relaxing first night in Bali.

Oct 13-14 – Sanur

Next day, breakfast in Kuta and the decision to move on to Sanur, another beach resort town just about 15 minutes drive from Kuta and on the east coast of Bali. For the next two days there was much chilling in a beautiful hotel room set on a lush, tropical garden, soaking up the sun on a chaise while reading a book only to take breaks for a dip in the pool, and dining on amazing fresh fish at one of the cafes on the beach during the breathtaking sunsets.
It felt like a much needed vacation from the last month of tough travel. It was paradise.

Leh, Ladakh, India (Part 2)

Oct 7 - Leh, Ladakh, India (cont.)

A tour today via car. The Indus River is beautiful. I don't know whether it's the type of light produced by being at such a high elevation, the kind of soil, or some other environmental aspect, but the Indus River is a color I've never seen in a river before. Do you know what taffeta is? It's a fabric that is woven in such a way so that two or more colors are reflected depending on how the light hits the fabric. The Indus River is like this. In one second, the river is an amazing shade of milky jade, the next a deep forest, the next, violet, the next deep purple. Set against the jagged peaks of the Himalayas, the river was a curling ribbon, waving its way through the austere countryside.

We arrived at the Hemis Gompa (Monastery). Gunther has written a bit about this lovely place, already, but I wanted to add a few experiences.

I felt like I was living in a dream here. For years and years, I've been exposed to images of Tibetan Buddhism, to the somewhat romantic imagery of monks hidden away deep in the mountains, of the haunting sounds of the monks chanting. But to experience these monasteries and their holy residents first hand completely took me by surprise. As much as it was romanticised in my mind through the media, books, classes, and so forth, it was much more dramatic in person because, well, it was so real.

We sat in the back of a large, very old, very ornately decorated hall (picture a huge barn with rafters, but painted every inch with fierce holy images and figures, but ooooolllldddd). In front of us sat clusters of young, novice monks. In the center front, old monks leading the chants of the sutras. But instead of stillness and piety, the energy was high. The novices, ranging between the ages of about 6 and 18, poked each other, whispered and giggled, dropped teacups, and generally horsed around. It was great to see that the monks let the children be children. But at the same time, there was s kind of reverence there, which felt like a given -- always present and part of everything.

Senior monks in the center front looked up and smiled, every so often, at the hijinks of the novices, seeming to appreciate the life and energy of these devotees.

Then, CRASH, gongs gonging, horns blowing, cymbals clashing, a gigantic cacophony sounded as one sutra completed. I tried to take a video (with sound) of this crazy chorus, and I hope it translates well, because honestly, I've never experienced anything quite like it. My ears were ringing! And then, a monk began another sutra, a trance-inducing drone spoken thousands of times through thousands of years, and again the crash and cacophony to punctuate the sutra's completion.

And despite my humility and feeling pretty Western in the midst of witnessing this spectacle, I found that the whole mood was one of family. The novices, full of life, wonder, and energy, the monks, with their authority, wisdom, and stewardship of tradition and values. It all felt so┘ natural, so real, so honest, so human.

It was a true joy to be witness to.

Then, onto the next destination that day, Thisky Gompa. Now, let me open this story with a few points. Our driver didn't speak much English and the guide book that I had didn't say much about any of these monasteries, so I had no idea I was supposed to see anything in particular. I understood that these were visits to local monasteries and that I was there to see the amazing views, the old, old artwork painted on the gompa walls, the architecture, and to get a little view into monastery life.

Preface complete.

Thisky Gompa was a very old gompa. Again, like all of the monasteries that we saw, they were set back from village life. All were tucked into mountainsides, towering and white in the mountain sunlight, silent like sentries keeping watch over the landscape. The square, white sentries were capped with deep red tiled roofs and decorated with splashes of red, burgundy, and burnt orange and punctuated by hundreds of rainbow prayer flags flapping wildly in the bright wind.

Around corners, through low, dark walkways, up bamboo ladders, there were strange paintings of dancing skeletons, fierce and fiery spirits, depictions of the lives of the Buddha and Boddhisatvas. And of course, the view was always phenomenal and unique.

So here I was, in Thisky Gompa, seeing all this, watching the novices play games in the center courtyard, thinking that this was enough -- more than enough. As we were about to leave, a Spanish woman asked one of the novices to open one section of the monastery (the Serzang Temple). His little feet padded across the courtyard and up the stairs and his little fist knocked on a closed, shuttered window. Another monk, about 17, emerged, rubbing his eyes. He'd been roused out of his afternoon nap. Trudging down the stairs, across the courtyard, and up the stairs again to the closed section. A gigantic key for a gigantic lock and the door opened.

Now, I was thinking, “Gosh, that was rude of her to have him woken from his nap,” but then, I understood why the Spanish woman had asked for someone to open the door. She knew what was behind it.

Inside was a two story high, golden and copper statue of the Maitreya Buddha.

It was awesome (in the most literal sense of the term). His head was decorated ornately in a beautiful multicolored crown. His eyes were painted in blue and black and smiled serenely and lovingly outward. Around his neck was painted various fine gold chains and strings of pearls. The “fabric” of his vestments were painted in elegant detail. His hands posed in delicate mudras. The whole scene was completely surprising and gorgeous. Around him, on the top floor (the floor I was on), were life-sized statues of Boddhisatvas, and of course, the whole temple was covered wall to wall in ornate religious paintings. It's impossible to describe the stature of this icon -- even by saying that he's 25 meters high, cuts through two floors of the temple that houses him, and simply radiates inspiration. All of him put in the whole setting, huge mountains, solitary landscape, unusual, friendly, spiritual people, singular architecture -- the whole thing was one Big Moment.

(A useful aside)
For those of you who may not know who Maitreya Buddha is -- Maitreya is a Bodhisattva who will appear on Earth, achieve complete enlightenment, and teach the pure Dharma (path to enlightenment). Maitreya Bodhisattva will be a successor of the Sakyamuni Buddha, the Buddha we all currently know. The prophecy of the arrival of Maitreya is accepted by most Buddhists as a statement about an actual event that will take place in the distant future, much like the Christian belief in the second coming of Christ.

(Back to our story)
After much open-mouth gazing, many pictures, and a donation later, it was sadly time to move to the next destination. It was hard to leave this place. Many times, as I’ve been traveling in India, I’ve felt glad to go to the next destination, leaving behind some difficult memories and looking forward to creating better memories at the next stop. But this time, as I felt many times in Leh, I didn’t want to leave. I felt a kind of sadness, knowing that I might never see all of this again, and that even if I did return, I’d return as a different person in a different place in my life. This was a unique and beautiful moment in time, one that could never be duplicated. And isn’t it poetic that the Buddha said that attachment is suffering? And here I was, right in the middle of that.

Letting go into the next stop -- Shey Palace. Again, this was a place that took my by surprise. With no guidance, we looked around the palace, which was ramshakle to say the least. Obviously, it was very old and it seemed somewhat deserted and let go. There were very few monks around, and the ones we saw were ancient. It was like a ghost monestary, cobwebs, temples falling apart, frayed, faded, and shredded prayer flags barely hanging on by a thread. It didn’t feel alone and regal, it felt desolate. I was about the give up and simply appreciate how old this place was when Gunther, in all his boyish curiousness, decided to go through a small door in the side of a temple. It wasn’t more than a hobbit hole, really, and looked like it lead to more abandoned desolation. I waited. And waited. And waited. Where was he?! In a huff, I popped through the small door myself and followed along the natural route that looked like it had been walked a million times. And there -- again! A huge golden and copper statue of the Buddha! This time, it was a 12 meter high statue of the Sakyamuni Buddha coiffed in blue. The same serene gaze, the gorgeous, delicate, and intricate painting decorating him, the all knowing, all loving look and peaceful posture of acceptance.

He was watched over by a very old monk who made sure that those coming to see Sakyamuni were respectful. Around the Buddha were various altars with other Boddhisatvas, and surrounding those were piles of offerings -- flowers, trinkets, beads, jewels, money. The monk seemed to get a real charge out of us. He would point to something and then laugh gleefully in a croaky frog laugh. He showed us how an offering of homemade liquor was put in a cascade of cup on cup on cup. When he poured the liquor over the cups, he chuckled and croaked with that great smile on his face, this face that’s smiled a hundred thousand times and will probably smile a hundred thousand more before he’s done with this incarnation.

Another Perfect Moment to add to the growing book of Perfect Moments in Leh.

We departed, with more attachment and sadness, for the next stop, Stok Museum. Again, another building placed off the beaten path. (Is there a beaten path in Ladakh? Not sure about that.) Away from the main road, over dirt and rocks. Stok Museum, unlike the rest of the destinations we visited on this day, was totally unremarkable. The only true entertainment was the museum watchman, who reeked of alcohol. Poor guy. It’s gotta get lonely up there. After seeing a few dusty, dusky clouded glass cases with equally dusty copper tea kettles, kris (sacred knives), Tibetan crowns encrusted in turquois but decaying with age, and framed 5 x 7, black & white snapshots of various Tibetan royalty, we left an concluded the tour for the day.

Food, some TV with lots of snow, and to bed.

Leh, Ladakh, India

Gunther wrote a bit about this already, but I wanted to add a bit here and there...

Oct 5 - Arrival in Leh, Ladakh (Jammu & Kashmir) - North India

An early, early morning flight from the Delhi airport. We decided to arrive by train from Haridwar, stay up all night in the Delhi airport and grab our flight from there. I definitely felt like a vagabond, crashing on top of my backpack in the airport.

Some chai and the flight into Leh.

I had some anxiety about acute mountain sickness (AMS). An Aussie told me that he had the sensation that he couldn’t get enough air, that he got a claustrophobic sense. I had a boyfriend in college who had asthma and I took him to the emergency room several times in the middle of the night because of an attack. Very scary stuff. So yep, I was a little nervous.

I stepped off the plane into the cold, cold air and I was happy to realize that I could actually breathe! However, as I began to walk and talk, things got a little funky. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. Simply standing actually caused me to be winded. The walk to the taxi and the walk up the stairs to the hotel room turned into a serious workout. By the time I hit the top of the stairs and opened the door to the room, I was ready to curl up on the floor and sleep and sleep and sleep. Fortunately, there was a bed within falling distance. Wiped out.

Oct 6 – Leh

Today, we walked through the town to check things out. Leh is so different than the rest of India. It truly feels like a different country.

The Himalayas are absolutely amazing. They shoot into the sky – straight up – high and jagged and covered in powdery snow. Majestic. Gunther’s pics do pretty good justice to how incredible they are.

The streets and the air are clean and the people are friendly. There is a smell to the Himalayas – an open, high, clear smell. People are mostly Tibetan and Buddhist, so the personality of everything is different – much more peaceful, much less aggressive. The buildings, houses, artwork, way of dress… everything is different. And ahhhhh! A break from the heat! We dropped from about 90 degrees plus the humidity in Haridwar to about 54 on average in Leh. As they say, you could have your feet in the shade and your head in the sun and you could get both a sunburn and frostbite simultaneously.

I had nothing but some thin pants and a fleece sweatshirt packed, so we found a place, on our tour of the village, that sold used trekking gear and dropped $6 each for some down jackets and ski pants to stay warm. Man, was I winded. Walking was like running, but it was so beautiful, I wasn’t in any hurry.

We made our way across the village to the other side of town in order to start our climb to the Shanti stupa, located just outsideLeh and ... up.

The climb, while really not a big deal, was a hilarious challenge. Walk 15 steps, stop and rest. Walk another 15 steps, stop and rest. All the way up those 574 steps to the top, and it only took an hour. Pant, huff, pant, huff…

The climb was well worth it. At the top was a monastery as well as the beautiful stupa that you can see in Gunther’s pictures. Sitting on the steep hillside, peering out over Leh and the surrounding areas, set against the clear blue sky, was this beautiful pearl decorated in sacred art. Religious art and religious structures are meant to inspire worshippers to worship, and this was accomplishing that aim. The shape and form, the colors and absence of colors, the placement and backdrop, all working in harmony to inspire and awe. A large golden Buddha sat at the high, center seat at the front of the stupa, glowing in the high mountain light, his face radiating peace. Magnificent.

After a good, long sit at this peak, we descended and slowly made our way back to the village to rest out the remainder of the day.

Delhi, Haridwar, Rishikesh

Oct 2 – Delhi to Haridwar
We arrived in Haridwar and it’s not like I pictured it. I’d heard and read of its spiritual core, but it seemed like a big, loud, dirty city, which, in essence, was confirmed by a resident of the city. “Haridwar is trying to be like a big city, loud, lots of shops, traffic, and Rishikesh is more like a town, peaceful…” Sadly, this helpful piece of information wasn’t passed along to me until I actually visited Rishikesh two days later.

Haridwar is kind of the Disneyland of Hinduism, I think. There are two main temples, very famous and very colorful, and a series of well developed and maintained ghats (definition: stairway/s leading down to a landing on the water) that line the Ganges (aka the Ganga), the most holy of rivers in India.

An important aside worth stating. The Ganga is believed to purify anything that’s put into it. A beautiful sentiment, to be sure, and a testament to the powers of the Ganga. Though Gunther and I did question that belief a little bit as we watched sewage, dredges of everyone’s laundry washed in the Ganga, dead animals, and various other unsavory detritus make their way down the river. As a kicker, worshipers drink the water from the Ganga as part of their ritual. So my guess is that Hindus have some kind of secret gene that enables them to not get horribly sick by participating in Ganga-related rituals. ??

At sunset, we visited the Har-Ki-Pairi (The Footstep of God) ghat in order to see the much acclaimed ganga aarti (river worship ceremony) honoring Vishnu, who is said to have dropped some heavenly nectar and left a footprint behind. As we approached the site, more and more people gathered until the atmosphere was one of bustling excitement – like the county fair. Street hawkers all around, boys selling light toys, large pieces of plastic cut from rolls of package labeling (Tide, Bountysoft, Lux Soap, etc.) for people to sit on, pens, and other trinkets, shop owners shouting out their wares, and officials in blue uniforms. These officials are simply there to collect money and provide you with an official receipt that you did, indeed, give – give to what, I’m not entirely sure. The funny thing was, we did give and got our receipt, but were then approached by another official in a different color blue uniform. And when we showed him our receipt, he said something to the effect of, “No, that is for the other Vishnu temple. This time, you give to this other Vishnu temple,” in effect, trying to talk us into giving more than our initial generous contribution. Now, I have no real idea what these guys collect for, but they were everywhere, all asking for more donations, more donations, more donations. My guess is that these donations go to cover the upkeep of the ghats, but ???

Approaching the ghats, I felt this buzz… honestly, like when you enter the gates of the county fair. You know something is going to happen, but you’re not quite sure what. Maybe you’ll get a hot dog? Maybe some cotton candy? Maybe you’ll go on a ride? Maybe you’ll throw up? Maybe you’ll meet someone special who could change your life forever?

People were lined up ten deep along the ghats, all vying for a good spot to witness and participate in the ceremony. Soon, out of the loudspeakers came a recorded mantra in Sanskrit. I was uncertain of its meaning, but when it started, people hushed to make space for spirit. The mantra continued, with the crowd (maybe a thousand people strong) beginning to join in the chant. After some time, the main part of the ceremony began. Three ceremony leaders, perched at the base of the Har-Ki-Pairi ghat and right at the water’s edge, took large torches, lit them, and began to wave them circularly in front of them – a kind of dance to the mantra. This chanting and fire offering went on for perhaps 15 minutes, and as things began to build in energy, the ceremony leaders then made their fire offerings, sending out lit baskets filled with small bits of rice, flowers, nuts, and so on onto the swiftly moving Ganga. As this was completed, everyone else in the crowd who had purchased large baskets of offerings from the many vendors, lit their baskets and sent them down the Ganga, as well. A kind of reverent, buzzing, hushed energy seemed all round. The burning offerings carried puja (prayers) so that Vishnu would fulfill hopes and grant blessings. To see all these little boats on fire drifting down the river was beautiful – a kind of sweet, perfect light show. And quickly, it seemed, as soon as the ceremony started, it ended with the crowd dispersing and the all the participants themselves drifting away from the Ganga.

We had a lovely conversation with an Indian man who tried to explain a little of what the ceremony was about, in his broken English. This ceremony and Haridwar attracts many pilgrims from all over India, and he and his family, I believe, had come from quite a ways away. His smile and kindness was a lovely end to the ceremony.

Oct 2 – Haridwar
Today included visits to the Mansa Devi and Chandi Devi Temples. Opening up this entry is a warning. My own state of mind was strong, spending much time in the past several days deeply challenged by my travels in India. This may color my description of these temples, but I’ll do my best to state my observations vs. proselytize in order to get you around to my own point of view on the state of religion today.

Mansa Devi and Chandi Devi Temples are the Disneyland of Hinduism. Now, I say that based on observations, not opinions. Here’s what I mean. First, we attempted to get a rickshaw ride to Mansa Devi. The rickshaw driver dropped us off at the base of a steep long hill, with no temple to be seen in the vicinity. OK, so we got a little jacked there. After a good tromp in the deep heat, we found the ticket office for the cable car that would take us up the hill to the temple. By cable car, I don’t mean the quaint, tourist toting cable cars of San Francisco fame, I mean one of those James-Bond-fights-Jaws-the-henchman-high-up-in-the-air-on-top-of-a-car-suspended-from-a-thick-metal-cable kind of cable car. This being a particular holy temple, the crowd was present, pushing and surging to get their tickets for their ride. After securing our tickets, we waited in a Disneyland ride-esque line that snaked side to side to side, back and forth and back and forth. All lined in vendors selling religious items of all kinds – prayer beads, offerings (prasad), pictures of the gods, and so forth. On the outskirts of the line were macaque monkeys, out to steal your prasad for a little lunch or snacky snack.

The cable car ride was actually quite lovely and quiet. The hill we climbed was landscaped and manicured, much like the grounds at Disneyland … seriously.

And then to Mansa Devi (Mansa Disneyland). Shoes off. Enter another line. Follow that line/crowd/herd through a series of very brightly colored, almost cartoon-like altars at which you leave your prasad and puja. At some altars, you could ring a large bell hanging overhead. At others, you got a mark on your forehead from the altar boy, then you bent down and got a hard, painful sounding slap on the back (I didn’t do the back slapping ritual myself). Herding onward and onward, through Mansa Devi and finally out the other side. It was quite a ride.

You get dumped out at the gift shop and café for some expensive snacks and a view of the hillside and valley below. Gunther spoke with a young woman who was there with her Mother. They came to the temple to fulfill their dead father’s/husband’s wish for them to make puja at Mansa Devi for him. Heavy duty.

Another line and another cable car ride took us to Chandi Devi. More of the same – crazy, brightly colored altars, back slapping, bell ringing, gift shopping, etc.

Again, I’ll hold off on too much personal commentary, but I can’t resist saying that the whole thing was like a kooky, slightly ominous cartoon laced with disquieting religious imagery that conjured up the stark contrariness of potent dogma. OK, that was as far as I’ll go with the personal commentary on this.

Oct 3 and 4 – Haridwar/Rishikesh
Day trips to Rishikesh, which is close by Haridwar. Word on the street in the U.S. was that Rishikesh was too touristy, being the place where the Beatles came to study with a guru who ended being a sham. Still, the Beatles were there, you know? And the plan was to stick to places that were a bit less touristy, hence, staying at Haridwar instead of Rishikesh. Oh damn. Rishikesh was absolutely lovely, especially after the previous many difficult and emotional days I had been experiencing. Rishikesh is known as the yoga capital of the world and as such, is home to masses of ashrams where you can study meditation, yoga, sitar playing, bodywork, and many other spiritually-based arts. The town has two main areas (Swarg Ashram and Lakshman Jhula), each of which revolves around a suspended footbridge that traverses the Ganga. The town itself is built into a steep hillside and rubs up against and crosses the great river. I spent today and the following day in Rishikesh, and the whole experience soothed my hurt and bedraggled soul.

Lakshman Jhula holds several strangely beautiful temples. I call them strange because they actually look like really tall, multi layered wedding cakes. Swarg Niwas and Shri Tayanbakshwar were built in 1929 and are each 13 stories, each story containing a multitude of small room altars that contain within them images of the gods and goddesses to which you can offer Prasad. For a pic, see http://www.traveljournals.net/pictures/86864.html. Quite a site.

The suspended footbridges were wonderful vantage points to the far side of the town, but also a bit scary. Narrow, very long, and situated high above the Ganga, the bridges vibrated and slightly undulated with the cow, monkey, human, and scooter traffic making their trips across. Being just a wee bit scared of heights made the trips exciting and more than a bit unnerving. But I was soothed at the other side by the sounds of mantras coming from the CD vendor’s stalls, by the vegetarian restaurants serving ayurvedic teas, by the calm demander of the people. Shouts from hawkers were few and far between.

On October 4, we went back again and visited a few of the larger and more famous ashrams. These typically had well maintained center gardens containing benches that let you look out at the myriad of statuary portraying the gods playing out different myths and stories. Surrounding the gardens were the living quarters for those studying in the ashram. I experienced it much like a more active, lively, colorful public park-like monastery.

The day concluded at a café set in the hillside, sipping drinks and looking out over the beautiful river. Rishikesh is a place I’d like to come back to.

Pushkar-Part 2, Agra, and Delhi

Gun posted some good stuff about Leh, but I wanted to do a little filling in so you could see what we've been up to...

Sept 27 – Pushkar

What a hike! Up to Pap Mochani Temple in the mid-day heat of desert India. While the temple itself was nothing more than a hollowed out shell, the view of Pushkar, Pushkar lake, and the surrounding desert and hills was fantastic. At the top was a young woman dressed in rural desert country garb. She was looking out at the horizon, and there was a certain beauty in the whole scene. The colors she was wearing, how she was perched on the hillside, how she was surveying at it all and seemed to take it all in. Then, she simply scurried down the mountain, not using the steep path that was created to ascend and descend, but simply on the slippy rock and dirt and brush of the very steep and very big hill. It was like she was part desert mountain goat-ess! I would've broken my neck, but she gracefully and lightly descended.

We leave Pushkar tonight on the sleeper train for Agra and the Taj Mahal.

Sept 28 – Agra

We slept in the uppermost bunks of the three-tiered bunk sleeper train. Everyone was stacked up like rungs on a ladder and the top bunk left me pretty much crushed up against the roof of the train. I'm short and all, but even I couldn't come close to sitting up straight. And of course, I slept with my pack in the bunk, which left me about 3 3/4 ft. lengthwise to “stretch out” on. It was one of those slightly slept nights, but still definitely much better than that crazy 16 hour bus trip!

We checked into the Shanti Guest House, a complete dive of a hotel, and had breakfast on the rooftop restaurant. The saving grace of Shanti Guest House is that the rooftop restaurant has the most amazing view of the Taj Mahal. And we sat gazing at it in the morning light. It was spectacular and we simply stared at it all through our eggs, toast, and chai.

After breakfast, we promptly checked out of the Shanti Guest House – total visit time: about one hour. When we saw that the toilet was leaking into the room upon flushing, that pretty much got us out of there, and fast. We had to draw the line at our hotel room being covered in raw sewage and smelling rank. I know, we're wimps.

Since The Taj (as it's commonly referred to) was closed on Fridays in order for Muslim worship, we visited the Agra Fort, the Itimad-Ud-Daulah (aka The Baby Taj), and Mehtab Barg where we could see the Taj by sunset.

Agra Fort was amazing. Red sandstone, white marble, a palace, a fort, a prison, a city within a city. Quoting wikipedia, "It is the most important fort in India. The great Mughals Babur, Humayun, Akbar, Jehangir, Shah Jahan and Aurangzeb lived here, and the country was governed from here. It contained the largest state treasury and mint. It was visited by foreign ambassadors, travelers, and the highest dignitaries who participated in the making of history in India." For more information on this beautiful structure along the river, visit http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agra_Fort.

Next was Itimad-Ud-Daulah. This beautiful tomb is considered the precursor to the Taj Mahal. The tomb, built for the Persian nobleman and wazir, Mizra Ghilyas Beg, this structure was the first Mugha structure totally built from marble and the first to make extensive use of the pietra dura, or small, exquisitely cut and fitted, highly-polished colored stones that create what amounts to a painting in stone.

The layout is such that, no matter the entrance at which you stand, the structure looks identical. I found the intricate inlay to be hypnotizing – repeating patterns of swirls, crisscrosses, diamonds... All meticulously and perfectly executed so that one is left with a sense of quiet awe and appreciation. I sat and just gazed at the structure as the late afternoon sun bathed the white marble and beautiful inlay with a soft gold and silver light. It was one of those moments – timeless, perfect, magic.

Mehtab Barg was next so that we could gaze at the Taj Mahal by sunset from the quiet of the public gardens. Metab Barg is an attempt to recreate a Mughal-style garden. The garden is laid out not so much like a garden as we know it, but instead like an orchard with the trees and the flower bushes meticulously lined up in patches. A fountain grounded the center of the orchard-garden. At the point where the garden meets the edge of the river is a space where it looks like someone started to build something, then gave up. There is some scuttlebutt that this space was the beginning of a Black Taj in echo of the White Taj across the river. This scuttlebutt, however, has yet to be substantiated. Perhaps it’s a lovely myth passed down to tourists to enhance the already great mystery of the Taj Mahal?

Like Itimad-Ud-Daulah, The Taj is perfectly replicated on every side so that no matter which side you see it from, you’re seeing the same thing. Now, if you’ve ever been in Las Vegas (I know it’s a sacrilege to mention The Taj and Vegas in the same sentence), you know that the scale of everything can get a little wonky. Buildings that you think are just “right over there” are really a 45 minute walk. The scale is so outrageous, all the hotels and casinos simply flatten out and seem to make up a picture that you can hang on your wall (OK, so I don’t want to hang a picture of The Strip on my wall, but you get my meaning). Well, that’s the The Taj. The structure is so spectacular that your mind begins to simply flatten it out in order to make sense of it. The whole scene of the The Taj, the sunset, the river, the clouds and sky, the birds circling the topmost dome – they all begin to simply look like the most gorgeous, spectacular postcard you’ve ever seen. It’s a strange sensation, but somehow doesn’t detract in any way from the experience. In fact, as soon as that illusion began to happen for me, the whole thing became even more amazing because I knew just what kind of scale we were talking about here… something so big and so incredible that my little mind simply couldn’t take in all of its wholeness.

Gunther and I talked with Captain Vijay (as he called himself), a retired military man who happened to be looking at The Taj and the sunset, like us. Capt. Vijay was a cheerful, friendly man who simply smiled, laughed, and tried to speak some English with us. One of the few times in India when a stranger wanted to talk with us without asking for something in return. I was grateful for his kindness in such a reverent place. Another magic moment provided by India.

Sept 29 – Agra

Early risers. Have to get to The Taj early, early to see the sunrise there. Little did I know that everyone else from out of town had the same exact idea. We arrived at the ticketing area and were greeted by throngs of people – Indian and European tour groups, street vendors of all kinds, money changers, etc. Hundreds of people wanting to get into The Taj at opening time. I’ve mentioned before, I think, the incredible lack of infrastructure in India. This includes everything from 24/7 power to trash collection to lines/queue-ing. The “line” for gaining an entry ticket for The Taj was complete chaos – not a line so much as a big, huge bunch. The standard Indian method of simply pushing and elbowing your way to the front of the line was in full effect. People shoving, jabbing, and even a brief fist fight breaking out.

Upon reaching the front of the line after about an hour of waiting, we saw that there were only two ticket counters. Two?? I mean, hey kids, this is the TAJ MAHAL, here. Perhaps creating several more ticket windows would behoove you? (end rant… ok, I’m lying, more ranting is ahead, I’m afraid.) Next were the security lines. Yes, absolutely, security needs to be really excellent for the Taj Mahal. We don’t want any wackos blowing up the primary, existing wonder of the world – most definitely not. However, the line to get scanned and searched was an even bigger disaster than the ticket line. For ALL those people, there were again only two lines for the security check. Now let’s just get it out of the way here and now – our sun has completely risen and any wishes for a magical sunrise at The Taj are now only faint dreams fading into lost memory and harsh reality.

I really don’t have any hard feelings about this, despite my scathing description of the experience, so far. I suppose I’m just pointing out some real culture that happened during this whole experience. India is not a country of super efficiency, as is evidenced by this most famous landmark. In so many ways – more ways than I can describe – India is a foreign land and probably, for my money, one of the most odd and bizarre cultures ever (at least in my travel log).

At any rate, after the security official confiscated the package of cookies from my purse (were they exploding cookies? Perhaps! One can never be too careful about shortbread biscuits) I was finally granted access to this miracle of architecture and spirituality.

The place was p-a-c-k-e-d. I mean, wall to wall people. And that’s saying something considering how big this place was. Packed, and rightly so because it was beautiful. The fog had started to roll in, throwing a misty, dreamy effect on The Taj, the surrounding mosques, and the meticulously groomed grounds. As you can probably imagine, I have about 50+ pictures taken from every single angle I could find. The monument is absolutely incredible. How they built this with the tools and knowledge they had at the time astounds me.

I walked all around The Taj, seeing it from far away, with that tree in front, from this vantage point, up high, now down low, now from this mosque, and now from that one, now from the river, and so on and so on. Yet, I hesitated to enter into The Taj itself. Masses of people had begun to line up at the one small entrance. More pushing, more shoving, more yelling, sweating, farting, grunting. A wall of humans surging. After an elderly woman in a worn sari pushed her sharp little elbow into my ribs with some satisfaction, I finally entered the mausoleum. No light but the light filtering in from outside. The two graves – one for the Shah Jahan and one for his second wife, for whom he built the structure. Small graves, almost insignificant. Still the mass of people, pushing, shoving, scrambling on each other to see. Another fight, shouting, hitting… because an Indian man bent the rules by taking flash photos over, and over, and over again after being warned not to many times.

I have to say that my experience of The Taj was mixed. It’s hard to feel reverence, awe, and wonder when people are fighting, elbowing, surging, crowding. Maybe I need to broaden my view of what a spiritual experience is? A koan, if I’ve ever heard one.

But as I moved away from the mass, I found a quiet spot a bit away from the monument. A perfect little spot at a bench with the trees making a perfect picture frame of The Taj. Gunther has included it in this blog – the one with the lovely, moody fog surrounding it? This was My Perfect Taj Moment.

Then, having our fill of both the beauty and the unsightliness – we left the site.

However, you’d find us again that same day, back at theMehtab Barg (gardens), worshipping The Taj as the sun set in Agra. All was healed.

Sept 30 – Travel from Agra to Delhi
Not much to say about this day. We had a quick trip via train to Delhi and settled into our hotel in the neighborhood that I now lovingly refer to as “The Tenderloin” of Delhi (those in the Bay Area will know what I mean, and if you’re not from the Bay, try Googling “The Tenderloin San Francisco” and you’ll get the gist). We tripped around Delhi a bit, checking out The Tenderloin’s (aka Paharganj) various bazaars, visiting some public gardens in another part of town, and concluding the day with a lovely dance performance. Tomorrow, another travel day.

The Himilayas

I got to have another longtime wish fulfilled and see the Himalayas. We traveled to Leh India on the 5th of October with a little trepidation about altitude sickness. Leh sits at an incredible altitude of 3650 meters (11,975 feet); while we flew up there from Delhi which is at something like 500 feet elevation. The flight both in and out was remarkable, the mountain range extends off into the horizon and way in the distance are mountains that stick up almost as high as the airplane. Getting off the airplane was quite an experience as well -- your body simply cannot get enough air, every step is laborious, and simple tasks make you feel like you have been smoking 3 packs a day since you were 9 years old. We basically just went to sleep in our room and watched grainy HBO the first day. The picture below doesn't do them justice.




The second day we went outside of town and climbed up to Shanti Stuppa. A nice looking stuppa about 800 feet above the main town. It took us 3 hours to do that -- climbing 12 steps, stopping, deep breathing, waiting for the heart to stop pounding, and then doing it again for all 500 or so steps. We were rewarded by a spectacular view and a beautiful stuppa and shrine.

Ladakh, (Leh is the capital) is called "little Tibet" and it is not like other parts of India, the culture and people are Tibetan. It was great to have a much more relaxed and friendlier experience than the rest of India.

On the third day we had a real treat and went to some monasteries. At the first one Hemis, we got there in time to witness a ceremony. It was full on -- an old hall covered with images and artwork, incense, chanting, drums, cymbals, horns, novices running about, the works. Tibetan Buddhism is very different from the Zen Buddhism I have experienced in the Bay area, you can see how the prior folk religious was incorporated into Buddhism through all the images and icons of demons, animals, and other supernatural beings.

At the other monasteries we got to see two huge indoor, two story tall coper and gold gilt Buddhas that were about 400 years old. Plus a room full of gigantic black painted sculptures of multi headed/handed demons, all covered in fabric, with a large phallus oddly poking out of one of the corners, that still had a wonderful spiritual feel about it.



After a day of rest we went on a very bumpy 10 hour 4wd ride to Pangong Lake. I'm not sure the ride was worth the cost in time, money, and having your body tossed around for that amount of time, but the lake was quite pretty and we did go over the worlds 3rd highest pass, Changla pass. The pass is sits at 5270 m./17,300 ft. for comparison Mt. Shasta is a measly 14,179-foot (4,322 m) "mountain". Just after I had started getting used to Leh's elevation, I was out staggering in the snow gasping for air. Wondering if I was going to simply pass out while still appreciating the view. Snow in India -- go figure.









You can also buy cheap used warm weather clothes because you certainly won't need them in the rest of India. The people are nice, and I can see why Hollywood has romanticized Tibetan Buddhism, it is very special, good thing there will be plenty more Dalhi Lahmas. If you visit India, be sure to include Leh on your itinerary.