The thought of traveling three-hours by donkey cart to happy clappy doo-dah was too much, so me and Francisco gave the Rainbow Gathering a miss and made a beeline for the Nepalese border instead.
Emiliano the Universal Wanderer
We met Emiliano along the way. He's a wannabe baba and a lost soul from Mexico who spent days walking barefoot around the jungle. Emiliano made a spontaneous decision to come with us to Nepal. Spiritual about everything, he leaves everything in the hands of the universe and floats about with a romantic vision of the world. I think at times, his approach does get the better of him and this was one of those times because we discovered he was completely strapped for cash. We helped him as much as we could and I advised him to take care of himself because the universe will not get rid of that gangerine on his foot! Emiliano is a very special person and it hurt me to see him hurting himself like this. So I took him to the doctor to get him fixed and left him at the border. Maika, a German girl I recently traveled with said that if our connection is profound enough, we will meet at least twice. I hope that one day I get to meet Emiliano again.
David the Psychedelic Canadian
With his bright psychedelic shirts and dry sense of humour, David the psychedelic Canadian was a comical character to travel with. We spent the best part of a week with David and did nothing but laugh, smoke and joke at everything we saw. He does these mean impressions of Borat and we spent most of the time being silly. He has a great sense of humour and found my version of the Canadian national anthem to be highly amusing! David is 45-years old and imports leather jackets from Thailand for Harley Davidson freaks in Canada. He's also into jewellery and seems to know his stuff. He was highly enthusiastic about taking us to a strip club in Kathamandu. I was totally up for it, but to David's disapointment, the novelty wore off, so we ended up at a Nepalese dancing girls club instead.
Nepal – the up side
People
The people are beautiful, they smile from the heart, and they are kind, genererous and helpful. You could say the people of Nepal are “same-same but different” to Indians - meaning they say yes to everything and are so polite that they wouldn't dare offend you by telling you that they don't know, prefering to send you off in the wrong direction instead! It's adorable but can get on your goat, so after some time, you learn to pressure them politely into admitting whether they really do mean yes or no when they give that wobble of the head.
Kathamandu
A concentrated bubble of intensity, Kathamandu is like a toned down version of Bangkok. With its “shower bars”, stripper joints and dancing girls clubs, it has a seedy charm and by night, all you hear is the sound of live rock music blaring from bars and pubs. Everything shuts by around 11pm, but there are some pretty cool joints to go hang out. Kathamandu is brimming with life in the daytime too but you find yourself dodging traffic every second you walk down the street. It's chaos personified, but if you've seen Delhi, then this really is nothing!
The rest...
Nepal really is a very beautiful place. The scenery is pure magic and you will be glued to the window as your bus journeys through the mountains, bringing you views of sweeping valleys, gorges, powerful rivers and a voluptuous landscape. There's also plenty of adventure sports, jungle safaris, elephant bathtime, lots of Buddhist stupas, great shopping and nice smokes.
Nepal – on the down side
What do in Kathamandu?
First and foremost: the power cuts! What to in Kathamandu? No power no shower, 24 hour! Now I know why they say this! It goes off about 9pm every night and the city is overcome with darkness, bringing out many a dodgy dude. The vampires come out at night, but even they have a curfew with the streets so quiet by 11pm, that you could hear the sound of a pin drop.
Expensive
You have to pay for everything in Nepal, so in a word, Nepal is EXPENSIVE. At $25 and $50 for a two and four week visa respectively, it costs top dollar just to stay in the country. Kathamandu, Bandipur, Pokhara, Everest, Anapurna, Chitwan – these are the main tourist areas and everything within them is geared up for tourists with too much money and not enough time - once again, making Nepal an expensive destination for the discerning traveler. Guide books for going off the beaten track are crap. You could probably do it though, but it's worth getting friendly with some of the locals to check out the best spots first.
If you want to see the Himalayan range, then you pay for the Anapurna Trek, the Everest Base Camp trek and other treks, so it's a bit like paying just to be in the nature. Small villages such as Bandipur have become top tourist destinations for trainspotter trekker types. In fact we spent a good amount of time taking the piss out specky anaraks in sensible walking shoes and baseball caps (worn back to front).
Small and quaint, Bandipur is home to the Newari tribes of Nepal, but it seems that alongside the guesthouses, restaurants and cafes, they too have become part of the tourist attraction.
Unless you like trekking or adventure sports, there's not really much to do in Nepal. Adrenalin junkies will love how white water rafting, abseiling, canyoning, paragliding etc is available on tap, but once again... it'll cost you top dollar baby!
At bars, cafes and restaurants, they add a 10% service charge, V AT and TAX. You also have to pay to enter various squares around the main city of Kathamandu, and the food is plastic tourist shit that costs a shit load of money.
Political climate
The political situation has been volatile in Nepal for the last decade. The current climate is prone to road blocks and mass Maoist demonstrations, so like me, you could find yourself stuck on a bus for eight hours, and sharing a seat with nine others in the baking heat because some idiot has decided to park his truck across the road. Nepal is probably the only country in the world with two armies and the Maoists and government are currently in cahoots over power, revealing the levels of corruption in the country.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Rishikesh Land of the Baba
From Ice to Fire
Jumping from ice to fire in a matter of 24 hours is no joke. Diving into the sweltering heat from the finger-numbing ice vapours of the mountains has taken its toll and acclimatizing is trippy.
Land of the Baba
They're everywhere and it's difficul to tell which ones are real. One of them tried to sell me some hash today. He was a cool baba and gave me the spiritual sign of hands together raised to the head when I told him I was sorted.
“Wanted” Can you perform tantric sex? Are you able to stand on your head, stick out tongue and make series of strange sounds? Can you make smoke fume from nose, ears and arsehole and juggle testicles at same time? If yes, then read on!
Professional Baba wanted to take care of da cool runnings of tings in tourist hubs of India. Must have long beard and dreadlocks. Chillum and supply of hashish is essential to spiritual validity. Proven track record must include abiity to transform Self into various forms and travel to different parts of country at same time. Must be at one with self, have ability to elevate off ground, stand on finger, suck big toe and smoke chillum with nostrils, again, at same time. If you are a natural in front of camera, can give Oscar-winning performance when blowing from chillum and out-smoking the idiot filming you, then this is the job for you! Those afraid of bollocks smacking into arse when running butt-naked into holy rivers need not apply. Please send a smoke signal to...”
Propa Baba
Thought we'd try and do a competition involving Oscar for the most promising, authentic looking baba
We found him before we even started looking...
He was sitting on the floor covered from dreadlock to toe in the blackness of the street, sooted up to the eyeballs with snakey things swirling around him while spasmed out in yogic position pulling freaky faces... It happened during a fleeting second when we sped past him on the street in the rickshaw that took us towards Laxman Julha.
Rishikesh
Mother Ganga flows from the locks of Lord Shiva who meditates in the Himalayan range that crosses Himachal Pradesh from east to west. The Ganga rushes into the state of Utteranchal straight from the source. It remains fresh, clean, pure but changes into a murky colour as it gradually stretches into Varanasi, where it becomes a polluted hotbath of deadbodies and excrement. It's the holy river invaded by millions and Varanasi being one of the holiest places in India makes that part of it the most polluted in India. Most spiritual parts of India are polluted because of the billions that converge, yet Rishikesh is something else, pure in the physical as well as the spiritual world.
Bathing in the Ganga
Been in India nearly six months and my resilience continues to be put to the test. I realised that I'm still running around like a whirlwind, even in Rishikesh, where you're meant to allow the waters of the Mother Ganga relax you and take your mind to another place. I felt I'd cheated myself out of the experience because we were about to leave and I still hadn't gone to bathe. Luckily, Francisco dragged me in a few hours before we were due to head for Nepal and even dunked me in fully clothed.
Shall we terrorize the hippies with some psychedelic trance?
So we're heading to Nepal. Rainbow Gathering is enroute so might as well pop in and terrorize the hippies with some psychedelic trance, especially since it's now becoming increasingly clear that we're not gonna make it to Mountain Madness, the big psytrance festie happening near Thamel in Nepal.
Mountain Madness
Think we gonna create our own mountain madness instead... especially when I get to Katamandu to link up with Nicola! Partners in Crime come together! Let's rock with it baby, let's move, let's groove, let's fire it up, let's give it some welly! Josep leaves, Maika as well and Francisco will be off at some point too... A surprise guest is also on his way to India... It's gonna be a brand new phase of my journey... Adventure!
Jumping from ice to fire in a matter of 24 hours is no joke. Diving into the sweltering heat from the finger-numbing ice vapours of the mountains has taken its toll and acclimatizing is trippy.
Land of the Baba
They're everywhere and it's difficul to tell which ones are real. One of them tried to sell me some hash today. He was a cool baba and gave me the spiritual sign of hands together raised to the head when I told him I was sorted.
“Wanted” Can you perform tantric sex? Are you able to stand on your head, stick out tongue and make series of strange sounds? Can you make smoke fume from nose, ears and arsehole and juggle testicles at same time? If yes, then read on!
Professional Baba wanted to take care of da cool runnings of tings in tourist hubs of India. Must have long beard and dreadlocks. Chillum and supply of hashish is essential to spiritual validity. Proven track record must include abiity to transform Self into various forms and travel to different parts of country at same time. Must be at one with self, have ability to elevate off ground, stand on finger, suck big toe and smoke chillum with nostrils, again, at same time. If you are a natural in front of camera, can give Oscar-winning performance when blowing from chillum and out-smoking the idiot filming you, then this is the job for you! Those afraid of bollocks smacking into arse when running butt-naked into holy rivers need not apply. Please send a smoke signal to...”
Propa Baba
Thought we'd try and do a competition involving Oscar for the most promising, authentic looking baba
We found him before we even started looking...
He was sitting on the floor covered from dreadlock to toe in the blackness of the street, sooted up to the eyeballs with snakey things swirling around him while spasmed out in yogic position pulling freaky faces... It happened during a fleeting second when we sped past him on the street in the rickshaw that took us towards Laxman Julha.
Rishikesh
Mother Ganga flows from the locks of Lord Shiva who meditates in the Himalayan range that crosses Himachal Pradesh from east to west. The Ganga rushes into the state of Utteranchal straight from the source. It remains fresh, clean, pure but changes into a murky colour as it gradually stretches into Varanasi, where it becomes a polluted hotbath of deadbodies and excrement. It's the holy river invaded by millions and Varanasi being one of the holiest places in India makes that part of it the most polluted in India. Most spiritual parts of India are polluted because of the billions that converge, yet Rishikesh is something else, pure in the physical as well as the spiritual world.
Bathing in the Ganga
Been in India nearly six months and my resilience continues to be put to the test. I realised that I'm still running around like a whirlwind, even in Rishikesh, where you're meant to allow the waters of the Mother Ganga relax you and take your mind to another place. I felt I'd cheated myself out of the experience because we were about to leave and I still hadn't gone to bathe. Luckily, Francisco dragged me in a few hours before we were due to head for Nepal and even dunked me in fully clothed.
Shall we terrorize the hippies with some psychedelic trance?
So we're heading to Nepal. Rainbow Gathering is enroute so might as well pop in and terrorize the hippies with some psychedelic trance, especially since it's now becoming increasingly clear that we're not gonna make it to Mountain Madness, the big psytrance festie happening near Thamel in Nepal.
Mountain Madness
Think we gonna create our own mountain madness instead... especially when I get to Katamandu to link up with Nicola! Partners in Crime come together! Let's rock with it baby, let's move, let's groove, let's fire it up, let's give it some welly! Josep leaves, Maika as well and Francisco will be off at some point too... A surprise guest is also on his way to India... It's gonna be a brand new phase of my journey... Adventure!
Friday, May 1, 2009
Mountain Madness
Darkness of Dharamasala...
According to Karan, a lonesome Indian trekker I met in Kalpa, monks in robes command an air of respect, especially monks in Dharamasala. He says they’re a fake comparison to the indigenous Buddhist monks of Spiti, that you bow to the robe and they hide behind it while living the high life of spirituality afforded to them as Tibetans in exile. Apparently the DL is none too pleased with the monks of Dharamasala. He doesn't like their materialistic attitudes. They're a tourist attraction and they know it. Many run successful guesthouses and businesses in the area, taking away the authenticity of their monkness and replacing their auras with business sense and an appetite for money. They're everywhere and make a strange contrast to the local Tibetan rude boys that hang out on the street corners of Mccleod Ganj. Wanted an insight into the dark side of Dharamasala, the flip side of what's meant to be one of the world's most spiritual places and boy did I get it...
His name was...
Funnily enough his name was Karma. We befriended him the day our bus pulled into Dharamasala about a week ago. Spoke to him on various occasions and he knew where we were staying. One night he came over to sell us something we didn't want and took my camera in the process. I didn't cry but I wanted to. It was some kind of fucked up lesson that I guess I need to learn something from because this is the second time my camera has been robbed in India. This time a junkie took it and he goes by the name of Karma. Ironic?
I'm with Garcia Lorca on this one:
Estan los viejos cuchillos tiritando bajo el polvo. Antonio Torres Heredia, hijo y nieto de Camborios, va con bara de mimbre a Sevilla a ver los toros. Moreno de verde luna anda gallardo y garboso, sus empavonados bucles le brillan entre los ojos.
Kalpa – Getting up-close and personal with the Himalayas
It took about 16 hours to cross over from Dharamasala, down to Shimla and then up to the east side of Himachal Pradesh to a place called Kalpa, a small mountain village just above Rekong Peo. We were up close and personal with the Himalayan range known as Kinnaur Kilash. The mountains washed away the pain of losing my camera. This is the place Shiva resides during the winter months to meditate on marijuana. Magnificent, and imposing, I felt the full power of the Himalayas! Sweeping views of valleys that never seem to end, vertical drops that take your breath away and an awesome close up view.
The Himalayas stretch from Ladakh to Spiti and then cross over to Nepal and reach out to Mount Everest. Our guesthouse was looking right at Kinnaur Kailash, north-east of Himachal Pradesh. We could have taken a five hour bus that took us further north to Narkon and then trekked for about four hours to see the Tibetan border - but we didn't. There's always next time. It was cold but the sun was shining for about two days. Connected with the locals. They're the most distinctive people that I've come across. They're the pure, untouhed, indigeneous tribes of the land, planted, watered and grown on this terrain. Their culture, way of life and rituals that include animal sacrifices, drinking the apple and barley wine of the region and smoking; the way they are so true to themselves and their sense of spirituality - it's what makes these people so pure.
If God is a DJ...
Himachal Pradesh is just one big voluptuous mountainous region. It's a trek to go north and the further you climb, the more oriental the people begin to appear. If God is a DJ then this is the proof. It's a full power play off, the goddesses in eight-arm action on the decks controlling the elements, the planets, the molecules, the earth, the plants, the chemicals that come from them, the mix of ingredients that make the chemicals; they is moving the earth, the water, the wind, the fire... In comes Karma, makinh it an unpredictable set as they crank it up, winding the rhythm, playin' with the power.
Plants, animals and so I hear, mermaids too, they live and die and live again. Their fossilised remains wash onto the shore, their souls melting into the froth of the waves that ascend into the sky as the sun heats the day. Condensation freezes into clouds of ice that settle on the tops of mountains. The sky thunders, spring arrives, bringing rain that melts the snow that brings water that flows into rivers across into the Motherland. People swirl across the land, cradling their love, loss, anger, pain, happiness, hopes for the future, wishes and dreams, their fears, their fight for life and their fight in life. True to their tribes and untouched by the world, there are also those that keep it real - makin it a full-power, high-voltage, super-charged mix!
How the India experience feels in a nutshell so far...
I've been jumping across the country like a rabbit on speed. A few days here, a week or 10 days there, making spontaneous decisions and hitting the road before finding the next place to settle for a short time once again. I need to be still and meditate on nothing. Sometimes I'm emotional, othertimes, disillusioned, lonely and sad. Then there are times I feel like the happiest person alive, indestructable, invincible, I'm on cloud nine and feel myself ascending higher and higher. My personal experiences with people and places dictate the state of my mind, bringing me greater learning and development. I also feel the freedom. It carries me across India like a little bird and suddenly I'm exhilarated, excited, in love with the world and everyone in it. I'm full of beans, energy and bursting with light like never before. I've been doing different things with different people and following the flow. But I wanna settle down now. I want to nest in one place and just stay there forever. I'm tired and emotional, I miss my family and I miss my friends and I miss the people I have met along the way. It's time to rest for a while.
According to Karan, a lonesome Indian trekker I met in Kalpa, monks in robes command an air of respect, especially monks in Dharamasala. He says they’re a fake comparison to the indigenous Buddhist monks of Spiti, that you bow to the robe and they hide behind it while living the high life of spirituality afforded to them as Tibetans in exile. Apparently the DL is none too pleased with the monks of Dharamasala. He doesn't like their materialistic attitudes. They're a tourist attraction and they know it. Many run successful guesthouses and businesses in the area, taking away the authenticity of their monkness and replacing their auras with business sense and an appetite for money. They're everywhere and make a strange contrast to the local Tibetan rude boys that hang out on the street corners of Mccleod Ganj. Wanted an insight into the dark side of Dharamasala, the flip side of what's meant to be one of the world's most spiritual places and boy did I get it...
His name was...
Funnily enough his name was Karma. We befriended him the day our bus pulled into Dharamasala about a week ago. Spoke to him on various occasions and he knew where we were staying. One night he came over to sell us something we didn't want and took my camera in the process. I didn't cry but I wanted to. It was some kind of fucked up lesson that I guess I need to learn something from because this is the second time my camera has been robbed in India. This time a junkie took it and he goes by the name of Karma. Ironic?
I'm with Garcia Lorca on this one:
Estan los viejos cuchillos tiritando bajo el polvo. Antonio Torres Heredia, hijo y nieto de Camborios, va con bara de mimbre a Sevilla a ver los toros. Moreno de verde luna anda gallardo y garboso, sus empavonados bucles le brillan entre los ojos.
Kalpa – Getting up-close and personal with the Himalayas
It took about 16 hours to cross over from Dharamasala, down to Shimla and then up to the east side of Himachal Pradesh to a place called Kalpa, a small mountain village just above Rekong Peo. We were up close and personal with the Himalayan range known as Kinnaur Kilash. The mountains washed away the pain of losing my camera. This is the place Shiva resides during the winter months to meditate on marijuana. Magnificent, and imposing, I felt the full power of the Himalayas! Sweeping views of valleys that never seem to end, vertical drops that take your breath away and an awesome close up view.
The Himalayas stretch from Ladakh to Spiti and then cross over to Nepal and reach out to Mount Everest. Our guesthouse was looking right at Kinnaur Kailash, north-east of Himachal Pradesh. We could have taken a five hour bus that took us further north to Narkon and then trekked for about four hours to see the Tibetan border - but we didn't. There's always next time. It was cold but the sun was shining for about two days. Connected with the locals. They're the most distinctive people that I've come across. They're the pure, untouhed, indigeneous tribes of the land, planted, watered and grown on this terrain. Their culture, way of life and rituals that include animal sacrifices, drinking the apple and barley wine of the region and smoking; the way they are so true to themselves and their sense of spirituality - it's what makes these people so pure.
If God is a DJ...
Himachal Pradesh is just one big voluptuous mountainous region. It's a trek to go north and the further you climb, the more oriental the people begin to appear. If God is a DJ then this is the proof. It's a full power play off, the goddesses in eight-arm action on the decks controlling the elements, the planets, the molecules, the earth, the plants, the chemicals that come from them, the mix of ingredients that make the chemicals; they is moving the earth, the water, the wind, the fire... In comes Karma, makinh it an unpredictable set as they crank it up, winding the rhythm, playin' with the power.
Plants, animals and so I hear, mermaids too, they live and die and live again. Their fossilised remains wash onto the shore, their souls melting into the froth of the waves that ascend into the sky as the sun heats the day. Condensation freezes into clouds of ice that settle on the tops of mountains. The sky thunders, spring arrives, bringing rain that melts the snow that brings water that flows into rivers across into the Motherland. People swirl across the land, cradling their love, loss, anger, pain, happiness, hopes for the future, wishes and dreams, their fears, their fight for life and their fight in life. True to their tribes and untouched by the world, there are also those that keep it real - makin it a full-power, high-voltage, super-charged mix!
How the India experience feels in a nutshell so far...
I've been jumping across the country like a rabbit on speed. A few days here, a week or 10 days there, making spontaneous decisions and hitting the road before finding the next place to settle for a short time once again. I need to be still and meditate on nothing. Sometimes I'm emotional, othertimes, disillusioned, lonely and sad. Then there are times I feel like the happiest person alive, indestructable, invincible, I'm on cloud nine and feel myself ascending higher and higher. My personal experiences with people and places dictate the state of my mind, bringing me greater learning and development. I also feel the freedom. It carries me across India like a little bird and suddenly I'm exhilarated, excited, in love with the world and everyone in it. I'm full of beans, energy and bursting with light like never before. I've been doing different things with different people and following the flow. But I wanna settle down now. I want to nest in one place and just stay there forever. I'm tired and emotional, I miss my family and I miss my friends and I miss the people I have met along the way. It's time to rest for a while.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
The Many Husbands of Me...
Why so many husbands?
When you travel India with a male friend or companion, it's always best to tell the locals that you are husband and wife because they just don't understand how a man and a woman can share a room and be “just friends”. Over the last six months, a number of husbands have come and gone from my life. Here's an intro to just a few of those who have had the courage to put up with me over long periods of time:
Wayne: Remember Motorcycle India? Wayne's the John Wayne of the Indian highway, the cool dude with the long hair and the Royal Enfield. He's the one with the determined spirit and quest for truth in life. He also talks a lot. We covered about 2000 km together from Goa down to Tirruvananmalai in Tamil Nadu. That's a lot of talking. Wayne is very objective about things, scientific about spirituality and says he couldn't bring himself to bow in front of the giant Buddha in Thailand. He believes in logic and science and it annoys the shit outta me sometimes. He's also very frugal and counts every rupee. Has a good sense of humor but the ability to drain you with his energy for talking, talking, talking. Yet one of the best things about Wayne was that he was aware and would occasionally wake up me up mid-conversation to ask me, "are you drifting away again Anu?" - and I'd tell him that he was sapping - but he took it like a soldier. He also made me aware of a few things myself, such as my short temper and ability to lose rag with Indians. He's a super-patient, chilled out, good natured, solid guy, not to mention the best motorcyclist that I have met(well, the only one really, but I can't imagine many people handling the roads as well as he did). We had a super-cool motorcycle adventure with lots of laughs. I put up with his crusty hippy ways and stinky feet and he put up with me. We lasted about six weeks until it was time to go our separate ways: I took off for Goa, followed by Rajasthan, and he delved deeper into the south to Kodai Kanal...
Josep: I rode on the back of Wayne's bike to Hampi and met Josep, only to discover that I had suddenly accumulated two husbands at the same time. Josep became my partner in crime for the next two months. We hit Anantapur to check out the Vicente Ferrer Foundation and were joined by my third husband Joachim. Josep speaks little English and finds my Spanish highly comical and entertaining, but I too ripped the piss out of him: “Is possible mushroom soup, but don't garlic and don't onion!!!! Hokay?” and “One cock please.” and “I saw,I saw” (meaning, it's the same, it's the same). Josep's a legend and bags of fun to travel with. He had total respect for me and knew when to leave me alone by giving me my space. He was also very patient ands tolerated me when I'd take an eternity to get ready, get out of bed or leave the room to go out. I felt like a princess with my breakfast joint and coffee every other morning.
Josep has been working as a journalist in Catalan for the last 35 year and had the sudden inclination to leave his two ex wives and four kids behind for about five months to find space for himself for a change in life. As a result he's the happiest he's ever been. He sees joke in everything. He told me Vicente Ferrer, the founder of the NGO that we went to visit, was dead. Well, that was my interpretation of the rapid Spanish he spoke to me on the phone at the time anyway. I send an email of condolence to the wife of the deceased only to discover the deceased is not deceased. Need I say more…?
Me and Josep spent most of our time laughing. He saw epic dimensions in everything we experienced. His interpretation, vision, translation and analysis of everything was spot on and hilarious at the same time. He's my tio perverto, my dirty old uncle, my tio sucio with his dry sense of humour and ability to laugh until the tears are literally streaming down his face. He takes everything in his stride and we danced, drank, smoked and partied - mainly to Frank Zappa and the Doors. Vodka, gin, rum and beer; spliffs and cigarettes, we had a laugh. We made a music video in Manali and if you see it when I email it to you, you'll know just what I mean... lol :-)
Joachim: Yes, it's gotta be said, that Joachim is a bit of a hottie, and guess what? He thinks he knows it too! At the same time he's very sweet and introspective and takes it like a man when I take the piss out of his macho exterior. Our connection was magnetic, probably because we both have ability to charm the other while remaining cheeky and sarcastic at the same time. He thinks he can have his cake and eat it, but I think I've managed to stick a mirror to his face and made him realise a few things about himself. Joachim is an ex-boxer and creative carpenter from Norway. He was inspired to join me and Josep on our next adventure. Despite out flirtatious connection, I stayed well clear of falling for his charming ways, yet at the same time, I also found it fun to humor him! From Hampi to Anantapur and then on to Bangalore, linking again in Rajasthan and traveling to Delhi – that was the breadth of the journey we traveled together. He's a Libra and I'm a Saggitarious, so true to the nature of our star signs, it was a case of “should we shouldn't we” - which made for great entertainment. But did we or didn't we...? What I can say is that we had lots of stomach-clenching laughs, plenty of reflective conversations, and an experience of India, that together with Wayne and Josep, we won't ever forget. He's certainly found a friend in me.
Francisco: Josep left me in Rishikesh as he was heading back down to Rajasthan for a few days before getting on the choo-choo down to Mumbai to catch flight back to Spain. I was sad and tearful to see him go, but it was time to move on and I know that we will link again in the not-too-distant future. So my new husband comes in the form of Francisco, an Argentinean lawyer and football player from Buenas Aires. A gentleman in the truest sense of the word, I am nothing less than a princess for Francisco. Me and Josep hung out with him for about 10 days in Dharamasala and he joined us on the trip to Rishikesh. So I guess it's just the two of us - and he makes a fine speciman of a husband indeed. Sometimes he's my adopted brother, rescued from the slums by my parents and given a home. But most of the time, he's my husband. Our lawyer-journalist status gets us places, especially across the Nepalese border when it was still closed. Traveling with Francisco for a few weeks made me realise a lot of things about myself. He stuck a mirror to my face and helped me become more aware of the things that I try not to face about myself. For example, the fact that I can be a nasty bitch at times, ability to lose temper and my lack of patience. He's a real angel, a gentle soul and sees the best in people. Francisco brings me coffee in bed and will go out and buy the food for midnight snacks. He also tried to help me get my camera back, confronting the evil junkie, Karma, in Dharamasala. Francisco is a sweetie that's probably a lot more clued up than I ever was at his age. He's a great travel companion and we get along just fine!
When you travel India with a male friend or companion, it's always best to tell the locals that you are husband and wife because they just don't understand how a man and a woman can share a room and be “just friends”. Over the last six months, a number of husbands have come and gone from my life. Here's an intro to just a few of those who have had the courage to put up with me over long periods of time:
Wayne: Remember Motorcycle India? Wayne's the John Wayne of the Indian highway, the cool dude with the long hair and the Royal Enfield. He's the one with the determined spirit and quest for truth in life. He also talks a lot. We covered about 2000 km together from Goa down to Tirruvananmalai in Tamil Nadu. That's a lot of talking. Wayne is very objective about things, scientific about spirituality and says he couldn't bring himself to bow in front of the giant Buddha in Thailand. He believes in logic and science and it annoys the shit outta me sometimes. He's also very frugal and counts every rupee. Has a good sense of humor but the ability to drain you with his energy for talking, talking, talking. Yet one of the best things about Wayne was that he was aware and would occasionally wake up me up mid-conversation to ask me, "are you drifting away again Anu?" - and I'd tell him that he was sapping - but he took it like a soldier. He also made me aware of a few things myself, such as my short temper and ability to lose rag with Indians. He's a super-patient, chilled out, good natured, solid guy, not to mention the best motorcyclist that I have met(well, the only one really, but I can't imagine many people handling the roads as well as he did). We had a super-cool motorcycle adventure with lots of laughs. I put up with his crusty hippy ways and stinky feet and he put up with me. We lasted about six weeks until it was time to go our separate ways: I took off for Goa, followed by Rajasthan, and he delved deeper into the south to Kodai Kanal...
Josep: I rode on the back of Wayne's bike to Hampi and met Josep, only to discover that I had suddenly accumulated two husbands at the same time. Josep became my partner in crime for the next two months. We hit Anantapur to check out the Vicente Ferrer Foundation and were joined by my third husband Joachim. Josep speaks little English and finds my Spanish highly comical and entertaining, but I too ripped the piss out of him: “Is possible mushroom soup, but don't garlic and don't onion!!!! Hokay?” and “One cock please.” and “I saw,I saw” (meaning, it's the same, it's the same). Josep's a legend and bags of fun to travel with. He had total respect for me and knew when to leave me alone by giving me my space. He was also very patient ands tolerated me when I'd take an eternity to get ready, get out of bed or leave the room to go out. I felt like a princess with my breakfast joint and coffee every other morning.
Josep has been working as a journalist in Catalan for the last 35 year and had the sudden inclination to leave his two ex wives and four kids behind for about five months to find space for himself for a change in life. As a result he's the happiest he's ever been. He sees joke in everything. He told me Vicente Ferrer, the founder of the NGO that we went to visit, was dead. Well, that was my interpretation of the rapid Spanish he spoke to me on the phone at the time anyway. I send an email of condolence to the wife of the deceased only to discover the deceased is not deceased. Need I say more…?
Me and Josep spent most of our time laughing. He saw epic dimensions in everything we experienced. His interpretation, vision, translation and analysis of everything was spot on and hilarious at the same time. He's my tio perverto, my dirty old uncle, my tio sucio with his dry sense of humour and ability to laugh until the tears are literally streaming down his face. He takes everything in his stride and we danced, drank, smoked and partied - mainly to Frank Zappa and the Doors. Vodka, gin, rum and beer; spliffs and cigarettes, we had a laugh. We made a music video in Manali and if you see it when I email it to you, you'll know just what I mean... lol :-)
Joachim: Yes, it's gotta be said, that Joachim is a bit of a hottie, and guess what? He thinks he knows it too! At the same time he's very sweet and introspective and takes it like a man when I take the piss out of his macho exterior. Our connection was magnetic, probably because we both have ability to charm the other while remaining cheeky and sarcastic at the same time. He thinks he can have his cake and eat it, but I think I've managed to stick a mirror to his face and made him realise a few things about himself. Joachim is an ex-boxer and creative carpenter from Norway. He was inspired to join me and Josep on our next adventure. Despite out flirtatious connection, I stayed well clear of falling for his charming ways, yet at the same time, I also found it fun to humor him! From Hampi to Anantapur and then on to Bangalore, linking again in Rajasthan and traveling to Delhi – that was the breadth of the journey we traveled together. He's a Libra and I'm a Saggitarious, so true to the nature of our star signs, it was a case of “should we shouldn't we” - which made for great entertainment. But did we or didn't we...? What I can say is that we had lots of stomach-clenching laughs, plenty of reflective conversations, and an experience of India, that together with Wayne and Josep, we won't ever forget. He's certainly found a friend in me.
Francisco: Josep left me in Rishikesh as he was heading back down to Rajasthan for a few days before getting on the choo-choo down to Mumbai to catch flight back to Spain. I was sad and tearful to see him go, but it was time to move on and I know that we will link again in the not-too-distant future. So my new husband comes in the form of Francisco, an Argentinean lawyer and football player from Buenas Aires. A gentleman in the truest sense of the word, I am nothing less than a princess for Francisco. Me and Josep hung out with him for about 10 days in Dharamasala and he joined us on the trip to Rishikesh. So I guess it's just the two of us - and he makes a fine speciman of a husband indeed. Sometimes he's my adopted brother, rescued from the slums by my parents and given a home. But most of the time, he's my husband. Our lawyer-journalist status gets us places, especially across the Nepalese border when it was still closed. Traveling with Francisco for a few weeks made me realise a lot of things about myself. He stuck a mirror to my face and helped me become more aware of the things that I try not to face about myself. For example, the fact that I can be a nasty bitch at times, ability to lose temper and my lack of patience. He's a real angel, a gentle soul and sees the best in people. Francisco brings me coffee in bed and will go out and buy the food for midnight snacks. He also tried to help me get my camera back, confronting the evil junkie, Karma, in Dharamasala. Francisco is a sweetie that's probably a lot more clued up than I ever was at his age. He's a great travel companion and we get along just fine!
Monday, April 6, 2009
Himachal Pradesh - up in the mountains!
Warm me up Scotty!
Brrrrrrr! It's cold! I'm wearing about four layers and I'm going to bed with the same layers for the last two nights now. It's freezing and it was freezing the night I arrived. From the sun-drenched mayhem we experienced during Holi in Pushkar to the cold, rainy Himalayan climate - it's an exhilarating contrast and I love it!
Busin it...
Bus journey from Amritsar to Manali epic. Flew off seat on countless occasions, was squashed into window with rucksack on top of me, zip on bag broke, crumbs everywhere, snoozed in awkward positions, smoked in secret, tried to avoid conversations with dodgy men, took 18-hours and three buses to get there... (moan, moan, moan)... Anyway - I made it. Manali is stunning. The Himalayas frame the valley we are in. There are plantations behind the mountain and it tastes good brother, it tastes real good. Fresh mountain air... Boy, I never knew I missed it so much...
Adding havoc to havoc
Josep was totally surprised when I turned up out the blue during the small hours of the night. Think he'd given up on me turning up at all. We're sharing room and it's costing 125 rupees each. There's hot water but it stays hot for five minutes. We're both unorganised and the room's a fucking mess. I arrive and add havoc to havoc. Empty cigarette packets, bottles of beer, books, bags, scarves, toileteries, computers, hard drives, speakers, wires, cables, an avalanche of clothes all over the place.
Manali was fun but three days was enough. Novelty of rain wore off on second day so we took off for Dharamsala.
Fifty Years in Exile
Monks with mobiles and youngsters in bling, this is the image of Tibetans in the exiled capital of Tibet today.
Save Tibet – a great marketing tool for the Indian government, has been churning in top dollar. Dalai Lama's approach towards the cultural genocide has won the hearts and minds of the world, his teachings of Buddhist philosohies have changed the lives of millions. This has been the effect of the Tibetan people on the world and Buddhism has carried them there. It's a powerful thing and the Chinese are threatened by it. The Tibetans are the nomads of the world, but the world is taking care of them and will continue to take care of them as long as Buddhism continues to influence the lives of people. It's crazy but it's true. People need love, salvation, peace, truth in the world they live in, it's like medication and you don't even need to take huge doses of it, just whatever works for you. Plenty of people come to India and take the best of all the things that have had an impact on them and Buddhism is one of the main ones. It's a driver of pure humanitarian instinct. This plus the reality of what is happening to Tibetans is enough to get the people of the world behind the plight to Save Tibet. It is not the governments of the world, but the people, that are carrying Tibetans in exile.
Loadsa money
At the same time, all the money coming into Dharamsala has turned it into a mega tourist spot. The Indian government have won a lifetime lottery and the locals in the area are making a nice little earner too selling everything from Save Tibet memorobilia and mantra pendants to yak bone malas and bronze Buddha statues – they got it all. Gotta watch out for the silver, but it's great to go shopping and look for unique little gems. Plenty of people are donating profits to the Tibetan fund but it's also driving the local economy, and Dharamasala remains the most affluent place in Himachal Pradesh where Tibetans here are even better off than Indians. Monks with mobiles and youngsters in bling, this is the image of Tibetans in the exiled capital of Tibet today.
World reflections
People in McCleod Ganj, the central hub, are a reflection of the people that come here from across the world. Met a rastafarian from Panama who speaks fluent Tibetan, a Swedish couple that have funded a school, a Buddhist philosophy student, an English guy who has been meditating in the mountains for the last eight years and a load of people doing English conversation sessions with Tibetans at a place called Hope.
Plenty come here to relieve themselves of their guilty lives and leave once they feel the burden lift. It's also a bit of a rehab centre for the travellers that head up here from Goa and then there's the touristy folk – but nice kind of touristy folk. How can any of these people have any idea what the Tibetans are going through when they haven't lived it? You can see this feeling in the hardened eyes of the older generation of exiled Tibetans - the fifties to seventies in particular. They are not a freakshow so don't mock them with your camera. Don't be a stupid tourist. You can also detect this feeling amongst the rebellious, street-talking, underground younger lot with their bling jewellery, bomber jackets, spiky hair and pockets full of rizzlas and smokes. If they haven't taken on the Indian habit of asking you lots of questions and being overly nice, they see you with timid or alien eyes and look right through you because they know that they will never be what you are. Others befriend the westerners, marry them, get involved in business deals or get into the cultural exchange thing and all that jazz.
What’s left? What's next?
A museum: That's all that's left of Tibet, and the 40% of historical artifacts that were saved from demolition are housed within it. From those that follow the Dalai Lama's peaceful and submissive approach, to young radicals such as south India-based Tibetan journalist, Tsong Tumin*. “The younger generation is not as tolerant, spiritual, or as religious as their parents and grandparents,” he says. “When the Dalai Lama is gone (touches his heart), it's gonna get dangerous. Tibetans will become terrorists, the Himalayan snow will become scarlet red with blood.” Tsong is working with a radio station that telecasts news to Tibetans in Tibet directly from India. He tries to put it in simple terms, “If somebody invades your home, you're not going to just sit there and watch them.” He tells me, “...all we want is our rights as written within the Constitutions of 1954 and 1982 - but they don't want this because these are rights that will empower the Tibetan people in Tibet”.
Acceptance is freedom within Buddhist philosophy as he explains, “We accept the situation. We know Tibet will never be free of China and we are happy to co-exist as brothers.” The Chinese government however, is more in tune with the differences between them and Tsong recognises this. “It's a fight because we are seperate from them, we are too different in terms of spirituality and religion, in perspectives, culture, history, everything. But past is past to us, we are saying it's time to move on, but instead what we are dealing with here is a cultural genocide - and something amongst the younger exiled communities in India is gonna have to give.”
Saving gRace
The Tibetan race outside of Tibet is being dispersed into the world as more and more get past the border. There are about six million Tibetans living in Tibet, most of them nomads or farmers, while the ones that learn Chinese and study, are still left with little opportunity - unless they collaborate in some way or other.There are also plenty of mixed marriages between Chinese and Tibetans and the numbers are shrinking.
Amongst the exiled community, while plenty of communities believe in the preservation of the Tibetan race, many find ways of getting out of their refugee status by marrying westerners. It's often the Tibetan men take this kind of plunge to personal freedom, although I did meet Tsering in Goa, a Tibetan refugee who lives in Canada and is about to set up shack in Vancouver with her Spanish boyfriend. Also met lots of Tibetans in Dharamasala that have not seen their families in years, including Karma, who left Tibet seven years and Tsong, who left in 1992 and has a brother in Italy.
Dealing with the shit
Fifty years of exile has spawned a generation of people that continue to believe in their faith, while others hear the rebel yell from ancestors of a once-violent Tibet. Then you get the funky young Tibetan DJs who are totally integrated and have found a way of releasing the pressure. The Mountain Madness Festival in Nepal takes place this month and the line-up of DJs is predominantly Indian, Nepalese and Tibetan. According to Shiv Link Records' DJ Appy, “There's a cool fusion between younger generation Indians and Tibetans. The Tibetan guys are playing at psytrance events that are happening across India. They're inspired by something that is taking them in another direction.”
Tibet is trapped between two super-powers armed up to eyeballs with nuclear weapons. To create a warzone within the Himalayas is the last thing they would want to do. The Chinese and Indians have finally established a relationship based on respect. Aggravate this and it will not take the Indians a second to send the exiled community packing. The real concern lies with the six million Tibetans living in Tibet because they are trapped between the pride of staying and that of risking their lives to leave. In the meantime, they’re in hell.
India: A land of opportunity for the exiled community?
For those in exile, India has become a land of opportunity. Fifty years of living in exile has transformed them into a tourist attraction, something that many have easily exploited. Monks wear the latest trainers and young rebels have defined a new way of life and are unleashing their frustrations in different ways. Acceptance is freedom and if any race can master this approach to life, then it's the Tibetan people. Life after the DL in the future will change things. Many young people are not as tolerant, and as Tsong says, "something's gonna give". It's gonna be a long road to freedom...
Brrrrrrr! It's cold! I'm wearing about four layers and I'm going to bed with the same layers for the last two nights now. It's freezing and it was freezing the night I arrived. From the sun-drenched mayhem we experienced during Holi in Pushkar to the cold, rainy Himalayan climate - it's an exhilarating contrast and I love it!
Busin it...
Bus journey from Amritsar to Manali epic. Flew off seat on countless occasions, was squashed into window with rucksack on top of me, zip on bag broke, crumbs everywhere, snoozed in awkward positions, smoked in secret, tried to avoid conversations with dodgy men, took 18-hours and three buses to get there... (moan, moan, moan)... Anyway - I made it. Manali is stunning. The Himalayas frame the valley we are in. There are plantations behind the mountain and it tastes good brother, it tastes real good. Fresh mountain air... Boy, I never knew I missed it so much...
Adding havoc to havoc
Josep was totally surprised when I turned up out the blue during the small hours of the night. Think he'd given up on me turning up at all. We're sharing room and it's costing 125 rupees each. There's hot water but it stays hot for five minutes. We're both unorganised and the room's a fucking mess. I arrive and add havoc to havoc. Empty cigarette packets, bottles of beer, books, bags, scarves, toileteries, computers, hard drives, speakers, wires, cables, an avalanche of clothes all over the place.
Manali was fun but three days was enough. Novelty of rain wore off on second day so we took off for Dharamsala.
Fifty Years in Exile
Monks with mobiles and youngsters in bling, this is the image of Tibetans in the exiled capital of Tibet today.
Save Tibet – a great marketing tool for the Indian government, has been churning in top dollar. Dalai Lama's approach towards the cultural genocide has won the hearts and minds of the world, his teachings of Buddhist philosohies have changed the lives of millions. This has been the effect of the Tibetan people on the world and Buddhism has carried them there. It's a powerful thing and the Chinese are threatened by it. The Tibetans are the nomads of the world, but the world is taking care of them and will continue to take care of them as long as Buddhism continues to influence the lives of people. It's crazy but it's true. People need love, salvation, peace, truth in the world they live in, it's like medication and you don't even need to take huge doses of it, just whatever works for you. Plenty of people come to India and take the best of all the things that have had an impact on them and Buddhism is one of the main ones. It's a driver of pure humanitarian instinct. This plus the reality of what is happening to Tibetans is enough to get the people of the world behind the plight to Save Tibet. It is not the governments of the world, but the people, that are carrying Tibetans in exile.
Loadsa money
At the same time, all the money coming into Dharamsala has turned it into a mega tourist spot. The Indian government have won a lifetime lottery and the locals in the area are making a nice little earner too selling everything from Save Tibet memorobilia and mantra pendants to yak bone malas and bronze Buddha statues – they got it all. Gotta watch out for the silver, but it's great to go shopping and look for unique little gems. Plenty of people are donating profits to the Tibetan fund but it's also driving the local economy, and Dharamasala remains the most affluent place in Himachal Pradesh where Tibetans here are even better off than Indians. Monks with mobiles and youngsters in bling, this is the image of Tibetans in the exiled capital of Tibet today.
World reflections
People in McCleod Ganj, the central hub, are a reflection of the people that come here from across the world. Met a rastafarian from Panama who speaks fluent Tibetan, a Swedish couple that have funded a school, a Buddhist philosophy student, an English guy who has been meditating in the mountains for the last eight years and a load of people doing English conversation sessions with Tibetans at a place called Hope.
Plenty come here to relieve themselves of their guilty lives and leave once they feel the burden lift. It's also a bit of a rehab centre for the travellers that head up here from Goa and then there's the touristy folk – but nice kind of touristy folk. How can any of these people have any idea what the Tibetans are going through when they haven't lived it? You can see this feeling in the hardened eyes of the older generation of exiled Tibetans - the fifties to seventies in particular. They are not a freakshow so don't mock them with your camera. Don't be a stupid tourist. You can also detect this feeling amongst the rebellious, street-talking, underground younger lot with their bling jewellery, bomber jackets, spiky hair and pockets full of rizzlas and smokes. If they haven't taken on the Indian habit of asking you lots of questions and being overly nice, they see you with timid or alien eyes and look right through you because they know that they will never be what you are. Others befriend the westerners, marry them, get involved in business deals or get into the cultural exchange thing and all that jazz.
What’s left? What's next?
A museum: That's all that's left of Tibet, and the 40% of historical artifacts that were saved from demolition are housed within it. From those that follow the Dalai Lama's peaceful and submissive approach, to young radicals such as south India-based Tibetan journalist, Tsong Tumin*. “The younger generation is not as tolerant, spiritual, or as religious as their parents and grandparents,” he says. “When the Dalai Lama is gone (touches his heart), it's gonna get dangerous. Tibetans will become terrorists, the Himalayan snow will become scarlet red with blood.” Tsong is working with a radio station that telecasts news to Tibetans in Tibet directly from India. He tries to put it in simple terms, “If somebody invades your home, you're not going to just sit there and watch them.” He tells me, “...all we want is our rights as written within the Constitutions of 1954 and 1982 - but they don't want this because these are rights that will empower the Tibetan people in Tibet”.
Acceptance is freedom within Buddhist philosophy as he explains, “We accept the situation. We know Tibet will never be free of China and we are happy to co-exist as brothers.” The Chinese government however, is more in tune with the differences between them and Tsong recognises this. “It's a fight because we are seperate from them, we are too different in terms of spirituality and religion, in perspectives, culture, history, everything. But past is past to us, we are saying it's time to move on, but instead what we are dealing with here is a cultural genocide - and something amongst the younger exiled communities in India is gonna have to give.”
Saving gRace
The Tibetan race outside of Tibet is being dispersed into the world as more and more get past the border. There are about six million Tibetans living in Tibet, most of them nomads or farmers, while the ones that learn Chinese and study, are still left with little opportunity - unless they collaborate in some way or other.There are also plenty of mixed marriages between Chinese and Tibetans and the numbers are shrinking.
Amongst the exiled community, while plenty of communities believe in the preservation of the Tibetan race, many find ways of getting out of their refugee status by marrying westerners. It's often the Tibetan men take this kind of plunge to personal freedom, although I did meet Tsering in Goa, a Tibetan refugee who lives in Canada and is about to set up shack in Vancouver with her Spanish boyfriend. Also met lots of Tibetans in Dharamasala that have not seen their families in years, including Karma, who left Tibet seven years and Tsong, who left in 1992 and has a brother in Italy.
Dealing with the shit
Fifty years of exile has spawned a generation of people that continue to believe in their faith, while others hear the rebel yell from ancestors of a once-violent Tibet. Then you get the funky young Tibetan DJs who are totally integrated and have found a way of releasing the pressure. The Mountain Madness Festival in Nepal takes place this month and the line-up of DJs is predominantly Indian, Nepalese and Tibetan. According to Shiv Link Records' DJ Appy, “There's a cool fusion between younger generation Indians and Tibetans. The Tibetan guys are playing at psytrance events that are happening across India. They're inspired by something that is taking them in another direction.”
Tibet is trapped between two super-powers armed up to eyeballs with nuclear weapons. To create a warzone within the Himalayas is the last thing they would want to do. The Chinese and Indians have finally established a relationship based on respect. Aggravate this and it will not take the Indians a second to send the exiled community packing. The real concern lies with the six million Tibetans living in Tibet because they are trapped between the pride of staying and that of risking their lives to leave. In the meantime, they’re in hell.
India: A land of opportunity for the exiled community?
For those in exile, India has become a land of opportunity. Fifty years of living in exile has transformed them into a tourist attraction, something that many have easily exploited. Monks wear the latest trainers and young rebels have defined a new way of life and are unleashing their frustrations in different ways. Acceptance is freedom and if any race can master this approach to life, then it's the Tibetan people. Life after the DL in the future will change things. Many young people are not as tolerant, and as Tsong says, "something's gonna give". It's gonna be a long road to freedom...
Monday, March 30, 2009
Holi Power in Pushkar!
Nice cakes n tingz
Nice cakes in Pushkar. Don’t know of any other place where you can just walk up to a street vendor and ask for a special cake. So we spent most of the time walking round shops eating special cake. Breakfast chillum with Om Baba, the guy who takes care of the guest house I stayed in, also sets you up for the day. Me and Suzanna, part of the Portuguese and Italian gang I was with, shared a room at the Sai Baba Guesthouse. We paid 50 rupees each for the room. It felt like the Princess Suite and we were indeed treated that way too by the amazing Om Baba. Can’t really place an age on Om Baba, but he’s at a cool mature age, about late thirties, early forties at a push. He used to go out with a Spanish girl for four years so speaks pretty decent Spanish. He walks on his hands and has this incredible energy, always positive, always laughing. He has this amazing huge smile. In fact he looks like an African with his long dreadlocks, dark skin and broad, distinctive features. We didn’t ask him how he lost his legs, it didn’t feel relevant. On the first night, he invited me and Suzanna into his room to show us some of his crazy photos and we smoked chillum after chillum. Man that man can smoke! Next morning he was hammering on our door to get us out of bed for the Holi party that was about to start in the square down the road. He had chai ready for us and some plastic bottles of water mixed with coloured dyes.
Full power!
Holi in Pushkar was full power! I can still play the whole scene back in slow-motion: the contagious energy that possessed you the second you entered the mayhem, clouds of coloured dyes exploding in the air and plastering everyone in a thick chalky substance; people smearing each other in pink, purple, orange, green yellow, blue; shirts being ripped off and flung hedonistic style across the colour-stained ground... The faces of rainbow warriors obscured with colour, disclosing wide toothy grins and eyes that danced with mischief and childish malice. People chasing each other, slipping, falling, laughing, dancing, jumping and raving to the soundsystem that played psy-trance and Bollywood tracks back to back - it was a high-voltage sun-drenched electric rainbow.
Too tempting...
Watching for about five minutes from the roof top of the Om Baba Restaurant was enough to send me hurtling down the stairs to join in with the madness. It took about 20 seconds to be smothered in colour. The only downside is that as a woman, you do need to watch yourself because they will try and get there hands wherever they can. I tried to punch one guy but I missed and slipped on the mud instead. It was very frustrating, and as much as I hate to admit it, I was lucky to have a male friend take care of the situation. The other down side is that the dye they use is not natural so it sticks to you for days. In other parts of India, they use vegetable and herbal dyes or even flowers, but I think this one was a mad raver lunatic party, so I guess anything really did go...
No other place celebrates Holi quite like Pushkar
You know how it always rains in Glastonbury and how you get the usual lunatic suspects that dance like they're in a wet tee-shirt competition? Well imagine that rain had been mixed with huge tubs of paint... It's been like this all across India, but as confirmed by a number of people who had experienced this spell-binding time of year in various parts of the sub-continent, there really is no other place that celebrates the festival of colour quite like Pushkar. It looked like every soul in the middle of the square had been possessed by some kind of luminous vision, hands flaying all over the place as sexy psytrance met the hip-shaking extravaganza of Bollywood beats. Full power baby! I’ve never seen or felt or experienced anything like it. Everyone on a cloud, levels of serotonin goin’ thru the roof, total hedonism meets cultural tradition and gets away with it - this is one experience that I won’t ever forget… Happy Holi Hugz to all my beautiful friends!
Nice cakes in Pushkar. Don’t know of any other place where you can just walk up to a street vendor and ask for a special cake. So we spent most of the time walking round shops eating special cake. Breakfast chillum with Om Baba, the guy who takes care of the guest house I stayed in, also sets you up for the day. Me and Suzanna, part of the Portuguese and Italian gang I was with, shared a room at the Sai Baba Guesthouse. We paid 50 rupees each for the room. It felt like the Princess Suite and we were indeed treated that way too by the amazing Om Baba. Can’t really place an age on Om Baba, but he’s at a cool mature age, about late thirties, early forties at a push. He used to go out with a Spanish girl for four years so speaks pretty decent Spanish. He walks on his hands and has this incredible energy, always positive, always laughing. He has this amazing huge smile. In fact he looks like an African with his long dreadlocks, dark skin and broad, distinctive features. We didn’t ask him how he lost his legs, it didn’t feel relevant. On the first night, he invited me and Suzanna into his room to show us some of his crazy photos and we smoked chillum after chillum. Man that man can smoke! Next morning he was hammering on our door to get us out of bed for the Holi party that was about to start in the square down the road. He had chai ready for us and some plastic bottles of water mixed with coloured dyes.
Full power!
Holi in Pushkar was full power! I can still play the whole scene back in slow-motion: the contagious energy that possessed you the second you entered the mayhem, clouds of coloured dyes exploding in the air and plastering everyone in a thick chalky substance; people smearing each other in pink, purple, orange, green yellow, blue; shirts being ripped off and flung hedonistic style across the colour-stained ground... The faces of rainbow warriors obscured with colour, disclosing wide toothy grins and eyes that danced with mischief and childish malice. People chasing each other, slipping, falling, laughing, dancing, jumping and raving to the soundsystem that played psy-trance and Bollywood tracks back to back - it was a high-voltage sun-drenched electric rainbow.
Too tempting...
Watching for about five minutes from the roof top of the Om Baba Restaurant was enough to send me hurtling down the stairs to join in with the madness. It took about 20 seconds to be smothered in colour. The only downside is that as a woman, you do need to watch yourself because they will try and get there hands wherever they can. I tried to punch one guy but I missed and slipped on the mud instead. It was very frustrating, and as much as I hate to admit it, I was lucky to have a male friend take care of the situation. The other down side is that the dye they use is not natural so it sticks to you for days. In other parts of India, they use vegetable and herbal dyes or even flowers, but I think this one was a mad raver lunatic party, so I guess anything really did go...
No other place celebrates Holi quite like Pushkar
You know how it always rains in Glastonbury and how you get the usual lunatic suspects that dance like they're in a wet tee-shirt competition? Well imagine that rain had been mixed with huge tubs of paint... It's been like this all across India, but as confirmed by a number of people who had experienced this spell-binding time of year in various parts of the sub-continent, there really is no other place that celebrates the festival of colour quite like Pushkar. It looked like every soul in the middle of the square had been possessed by some kind of luminous vision, hands flaying all over the place as sexy psytrance met the hip-shaking extravaganza of Bollywood beats. Full power baby! I’ve never seen or felt or experienced anything like it. Everyone on a cloud, levels of serotonin goin’ thru the roof, total hedonism meets cultural tradition and gets away with it - this is one experience that I won’t ever forget… Happy Holi Hugz to all my beautiful friends!
Friday, March 20, 2009
Back on the road...
So far…
Been involved in all kinds of weird and wonderful adventures, but I don’t wanna bore you with details so here it all is in a nutshell...
Hampi
It was more a meeting of minds than anything and the spontaneity of new plans couldn’t have taken place at a better time or place than this. Josep, an eccentric Catalan journalist is also heading to Anantapur to check out the Vicente Ferrer Foundation, an NGO bringing in excess of 2 million euros per month from donors to provide the best in education and health to the dalits (untouchable communities) of Anantapur, a region situated in the southern state of Anantapur. Cheeky Norwegian, Joachim is a carpenter and has worked with NGOs in South America and is inspired to join us. With me and Wayne, we've suddenly formed a team, so it's back on the road and we all link at the next stop: The Vicente Ferrer Foundation, Andra Pradesh.
Big NGO - sex education for deaf kids
It’s meant to be the most innovative humanitarian project in India and was started by the main man about 50 years ago. I’m doing a report on one of their latest projects: sex education for deaf kids. Kinda ironic when you think how the subject of sex education falls on deaf ears everywhere else across the country while these kids are getting the message loud and clear. I wonder if they'll be using props such as bananas and condoms? Headquarters of the NGO are huge with residential facilities for press, donors, volunteers, staff and security.
Projects
We stayed five days and spent much time visiting a number of projects including the maternity unit. Here, women here have opted to get their fallopian tubes tied straight after giving birth. They come here to recover from the operations while their mothers have access to all facilities at the hospital to take care of the new-borns. Also went to an AIDS hospital where we saw a three year old child born with the disease. It was a shock to see this. His grandmother was feeding him one grain of rice at a time. He had the look of death in his eyes. My heart flipped about 50 times. We also went to a number of schools including those for mentally disabled kids, blind and deaf kids.
Bangalore
Everything became interconnected when we discovered an ex-Vicente Ferrer employee had gone off to Bangalore to begin his own NGO for lepers. Ignacio got things moving about four years ago and today, works with some 200 leper families. Housing, education and health are key areas. There are three schools, we went to visit the kindergarten school for kids with parents who have leprosy and had a day of fun. They need more resources, facilities, at least another teacher (there’s only one so far) and opportunities to get out on some field trips. Josep is flying back to Bangalore this summer to work with Ignacio and to help the NGO meet goals. This is India where anything and everything is possible. It’s all there for you if you want to make it happen - so all I can say right now is, watch this space…
Bangalore: the city
Didn’t like Bangalore. Spagheti junctions and super highways and concrete flyovers and skyscrapers and billboards advertising insurance plans for families with 2.4 kids – modern is the buzz word for the Indian who wants to get on in life. Buying into the commercial crap of the west means status. The pink plastic American dream with its diners and cafes and yuppie bars and McDonalds and Burger Kings and Indian fastfood chains that have lowered the standards of Indian food just to fall in line with the trends of the west – it’s all a huge and shameful contrast to the slum-like streets with its lepers, beggars and prostitutes that roam through the city. We avoided the yuppie side of town and hung out in the dodgiest Indian bars we could find.
Tamil Nadu
It was time for some space so the team split and me and Wayne sped even further south to Tiruvannamalai in Tamil Nadu. Tiruvannamalai is a centuries-old ancient city in the south Indian state of Tamil Nadu. The history of Tiruvannamalai can be tracked back as far as 100BC. The city is home to a number of ashrams, one of the most famous being the Shri Ramana Ashram. You can feel the spiritual energy of the place and the way it bounces back into the city from the huge Arunachala Mountain(otherwise known as Shiva's mountain). According to geologists, the mountain (also known as Tiruvan Malai Mountain) is older than the Himalayas.
Tamil Nadu - Home of the Real Indians
It's also home to real salt-of-the-Earth Indians. As India continued to be raped and conquered over the centuries, many Indians also continued to move further south, namely to Tamil Nadu. The people of Tamil Nadu are a spiritual people with kind eyes and hearts, they are tribal in their ways, yet genuine, beautiful, amazing at the same time. Tamil or Telegu is the language of Tamil Nadu. I tried to speak to some natives in Hindi, but had to resort to sign language and broken English, but it was still all good!
Shiva and the eternal column of fire: The story behind Arunachala Mountain
Shiva threw a mighty column of eternal fire through Arunachala Mountan and asked the godheads Vishnu and Brahma: "Whichever one of you can find the top or bottom of this eternal column of fire, will become the master of the universe, the respected, the feared, the worshipped, the greatest!" Vishnu went down the column to find the bottom but re-surfaced to admit defeat. Brahma went up to find the top and to his dismay, could not find it. He also found he could not admit defeat, returning instead to tell both Shiva and Vishnu that he had indeed discovered the top end of the eternal column of fire. "You are the true master of the universe" cried Vishnu! Shiva too offered his congratulations. However, it soon transpired that Brahma had lied, forcing Shiva to cast a curse that declared he will be the least worshipped of the godheads for all eternity. And so that is the story of Arunachala Mountain and Shiva's column of fire.
Tamil Nadu - facing myself
I can understand why people come here for spiritual enlightenment and why it is reffered to as the "divine city for spiritual enlightenment". I came face to face with myself in this place, so naturally, I wanted to leave within 24 hours of arriving. It's a spiritual haven for international travelers seeking something and for those who believe with their hearts and souls in the true power of the non-physical world, the power of attraction, a higher consciousness, connecting with the Supreme and discovering god within. In other words, a load of happy clappy freaks of meditation addicted to meditation.
Didn’t think I could do it, but I did actually manage to meditate. Hooray! It’s impossible to sit there and not have any thoughts whizzing through your head, but what I learned was that awareness of these thoughts is what will help to reach that meditative state. Oshu said, (no, I am NOT joining the cult) that we are all mad. Why? Write down all the thoughts that cross your mind and you will realise that you too are a mad person.
Controlling these thoughts by being aware of them was libertating and felt like a great step. I saw the traffic that was going through my head. It was a spagheti junction of thoughts whizzing through my brain, flashes of light, of people, a loudspeaker of conversations being played back. It was useless shit that got in the way of my energy and creativity. The mind can be controlled by the self, it's just a matter of knowing that there is shit that it will love to churn around like a washing machine. I sat there and watched it all happen. I brought myself back to myyself by realising myself as me: here I am watching my thoughts. I am I. It felt like the shit in my head had been exorcised. I felt calm afterwards.
Drinking tea with monks
We climbed the Shiva mountain. It was about 800 metres up and felt almost vertical. Half way up we had an ariel view of the Shiva Temple, the second biggest Shiva temple in the whole of South India! The architecture of the centuries-old building looked like a cross between ancient Mayan, Egyptian and Indian influences - just like the similarities I noticed in Hampi... Took an hour and a half to get to the top where we meditated in front of the phallic Shiva symbol, the Shiv Ling, followed by tea with the monks. The monks were in their early 20s and had been climbing up this almost vertical mountain for the last 10 years, meditating with the master guru, who is in his 80s and who has been meditating on this very mountain for the last seventy years. Felt at peace here on top of the mountain. It was a beautiful experience that kept me grounded as a I accepted things and felt the freedom. I didn't feel like running away anymore because I felt tranquil in Tamil Nadu now, allowing me to enjoy the real spirit of India for at least a few more days.
Been involved in all kinds of weird and wonderful adventures, but I don’t wanna bore you with details so here it all is in a nutshell...
Hampi
It was more a meeting of minds than anything and the spontaneity of new plans couldn’t have taken place at a better time or place than this. Josep, an eccentric Catalan journalist is also heading to Anantapur to check out the Vicente Ferrer Foundation, an NGO bringing in excess of 2 million euros per month from donors to provide the best in education and health to the dalits (untouchable communities) of Anantapur, a region situated in the southern state of Anantapur. Cheeky Norwegian, Joachim is a carpenter and has worked with NGOs in South America and is inspired to join us. With me and Wayne, we've suddenly formed a team, so it's back on the road and we all link at the next stop: The Vicente Ferrer Foundation, Andra Pradesh.
Big NGO - sex education for deaf kids
It’s meant to be the most innovative humanitarian project in India and was started by the main man about 50 years ago. I’m doing a report on one of their latest projects: sex education for deaf kids. Kinda ironic when you think how the subject of sex education falls on deaf ears everywhere else across the country while these kids are getting the message loud and clear. I wonder if they'll be using props such as bananas and condoms? Headquarters of the NGO are huge with residential facilities for press, donors, volunteers, staff and security.
Projects
We stayed five days and spent much time visiting a number of projects including the maternity unit. Here, women here have opted to get their fallopian tubes tied straight after giving birth. They come here to recover from the operations while their mothers have access to all facilities at the hospital to take care of the new-borns. Also went to an AIDS hospital where we saw a three year old child born with the disease. It was a shock to see this. His grandmother was feeding him one grain of rice at a time. He had the look of death in his eyes. My heart flipped about 50 times. We also went to a number of schools including those for mentally disabled kids, blind and deaf kids.
Bangalore
Everything became interconnected when we discovered an ex-Vicente Ferrer employee had gone off to Bangalore to begin his own NGO for lepers. Ignacio got things moving about four years ago and today, works with some 200 leper families. Housing, education and health are key areas. There are three schools, we went to visit the kindergarten school for kids with parents who have leprosy and had a day of fun. They need more resources, facilities, at least another teacher (there’s only one so far) and opportunities to get out on some field trips. Josep is flying back to Bangalore this summer to work with Ignacio and to help the NGO meet goals. This is India where anything and everything is possible. It’s all there for you if you want to make it happen - so all I can say right now is, watch this space…
Bangalore: the city
Didn’t like Bangalore. Spagheti junctions and super highways and concrete flyovers and skyscrapers and billboards advertising insurance plans for families with 2.4 kids – modern is the buzz word for the Indian who wants to get on in life. Buying into the commercial crap of the west means status. The pink plastic American dream with its diners and cafes and yuppie bars and McDonalds and Burger Kings and Indian fastfood chains that have lowered the standards of Indian food just to fall in line with the trends of the west – it’s all a huge and shameful contrast to the slum-like streets with its lepers, beggars and prostitutes that roam through the city. We avoided the yuppie side of town and hung out in the dodgiest Indian bars we could find.
Tamil Nadu
It was time for some space so the team split and me and Wayne sped even further south to Tiruvannamalai in Tamil Nadu. Tiruvannamalai is a centuries-old ancient city in the south Indian state of Tamil Nadu. The history of Tiruvannamalai can be tracked back as far as 100BC. The city is home to a number of ashrams, one of the most famous being the Shri Ramana Ashram. You can feel the spiritual energy of the place and the way it bounces back into the city from the huge Arunachala Mountain(otherwise known as Shiva's mountain). According to geologists, the mountain (also known as Tiruvan Malai Mountain) is older than the Himalayas.
Tamil Nadu - Home of the Real Indians
It's also home to real salt-of-the-Earth Indians. As India continued to be raped and conquered over the centuries, many Indians also continued to move further south, namely to Tamil Nadu. The people of Tamil Nadu are a spiritual people with kind eyes and hearts, they are tribal in their ways, yet genuine, beautiful, amazing at the same time. Tamil or Telegu is the language of Tamil Nadu. I tried to speak to some natives in Hindi, but had to resort to sign language and broken English, but it was still all good!
Shiva and the eternal column of fire: The story behind Arunachala Mountain
Shiva threw a mighty column of eternal fire through Arunachala Mountan and asked the godheads Vishnu and Brahma: "Whichever one of you can find the top or bottom of this eternal column of fire, will become the master of the universe, the respected, the feared, the worshipped, the greatest!" Vishnu went down the column to find the bottom but re-surfaced to admit defeat. Brahma went up to find the top and to his dismay, could not find it. He also found he could not admit defeat, returning instead to tell both Shiva and Vishnu that he had indeed discovered the top end of the eternal column of fire. "You are the true master of the universe" cried Vishnu! Shiva too offered his congratulations. However, it soon transpired that Brahma had lied, forcing Shiva to cast a curse that declared he will be the least worshipped of the godheads for all eternity. And so that is the story of Arunachala Mountain and Shiva's column of fire.
Tamil Nadu - facing myself
I can understand why people come here for spiritual enlightenment and why it is reffered to as the "divine city for spiritual enlightenment". I came face to face with myself in this place, so naturally, I wanted to leave within 24 hours of arriving. It's a spiritual haven for international travelers seeking something and for those who believe with their hearts and souls in the true power of the non-physical world, the power of attraction, a higher consciousness, connecting with the Supreme and discovering god within. In other words, a load of happy clappy freaks of meditation addicted to meditation.
Didn’t think I could do it, but I did actually manage to meditate. Hooray! It’s impossible to sit there and not have any thoughts whizzing through your head, but what I learned was that awareness of these thoughts is what will help to reach that meditative state. Oshu said, (no, I am NOT joining the cult) that we are all mad. Why? Write down all the thoughts that cross your mind and you will realise that you too are a mad person.
Controlling these thoughts by being aware of them was libertating and felt like a great step. I saw the traffic that was going through my head. It was a spagheti junction of thoughts whizzing through my brain, flashes of light, of people, a loudspeaker of conversations being played back. It was useless shit that got in the way of my energy and creativity. The mind can be controlled by the self, it's just a matter of knowing that there is shit that it will love to churn around like a washing machine. I sat there and watched it all happen. I brought myself back to myyself by realising myself as me: here I am watching my thoughts. I am I. It felt like the shit in my head had been exorcised. I felt calm afterwards.
Drinking tea with monks
We climbed the Shiva mountain. It was about 800 metres up and felt almost vertical. Half way up we had an ariel view of the Shiva Temple, the second biggest Shiva temple in the whole of South India! The architecture of the centuries-old building looked like a cross between ancient Mayan, Egyptian and Indian influences - just like the similarities I noticed in Hampi... Took an hour and a half to get to the top where we meditated in front of the phallic Shiva symbol, the Shiv Ling, followed by tea with the monks. The monks were in their early 20s and had been climbing up this almost vertical mountain for the last 10 years, meditating with the master guru, who is in his 80s and who has been meditating on this very mountain for the last seventy years. Felt at peace here on top of the mountain. It was a beautiful experience that kept me grounded as a I accepted things and felt the freedom. I didn't feel like running away anymore because I felt tranquil in Tamil Nadu now, allowing me to enjoy the real spirit of India for at least a few more days.
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