As many of you know, I'll be off to India soon to teach Module 3 of the 2010 One Year Immersion. I thought it a good idea to look over my notes from previous trips and found this, a cyber postcard from a trip to India in 2007.
The memories still make me smile.
Much love, Dawn
softly undoing me
a postcard from india . july 24 . 2007
india is softly undoing me. oh yes, i wish i were one of those people who feel they've come home when they're here, that they've returned to the mother and all that. me? i'm going quietly insane.
again.
this is my third visit to india, my first outside "meditation resort india" (pune). now, to be fair, i have made some progress. the last two times in india i went very loudly insane. kicking and screaming all the way. this time it's a bit more gentle.
i could feel the beginnings as i stopped over in bahrain on my way to chennai. i'd never seen arabic people in traditional dress en mass before. regal, proud and astonishingly beautiful. at home and powerful in this stark place. one woman as tall as myself, maybe even taller, like a princess from arabian nights, gazed out of her elaborately embroidered burca with dark almond eyes. she stared intently at my shoes. i became aware, suddenly, that my black evening sandals proudly displayed red toenails. sensual. naked. exposed. woman. i felt proud and brazen at the same time. experiencing myself through her gaze in a way i had never felt myself before. something taken for granted, brought into sharp focus. startling how the absence of something (the nakedness of a woman's body in the arabic culture) sharpens one's awareness of that very thing.
we boarded the flight for chennai late that night, already i am in india. sitting with two men from chennai, the fun begins. one of them is sitting in my seat. i show my ticket and am met with a blank stare. i say my seat number and the man across the aisle - in india everyone is intimately involved with whatever is going on for anyone at all times - tells me that there are two tickets for that seat. i ask for the attendant, who arrives to sort out the situation and, when she asks for his ticket the man in my seat pops into the open seat, his seat, and shows his ticket.
what just happened?
ok, so the three of us settle in for the flight. very soon after take off the film begins, a bollywood classic i believe, for everyone seems to know the plot by heart. my seat mate feels it's very important that i see the film and wants to make sure my headphone jack is working properly. it doesn't, i say it's ok, he insists that i use his jack as he's already seen the film and doesn't need to hear it. i don't have the heart to explain to him that i don't need the jack because i don't understand hindi. ok, i did try but that began one of those round and round conversations that i can get into in india all too often (more on those later), so i decided to hold my headphone plug into the jack for the duration and enjoy the hindi. we're all watching the film together - everyone on the flight - and there's the feeling of being in someone's living room as we all laugh and cry with the tragically separated lovers (standard bollywood plot). my seat mate takes care that all of us in our row have water, pillows, that our seats are comfortably reclined, everything we need to be happy. There it is, that feeling of family that india does show me - every time.
a few hours later the plane begins it's decent into chennai. everyone wakes up from the bollywood induced slumber and cranes his or her neck to see the lights of the airport. everyone. yes, everyone. almost as if our eyes could bring us on the ground just that much faster. before we touch down cell phones are turned on and the second the rear wheels hit the ground passengers are out of their seats, overhead bins open, hand baggage gathered and there's a surge to the front of the airplane for disembarking. a second or two later, the front wheel touches and we begin the taxi to the gate. the flight's over, why are you still sitting in your seat? the door opens, at last, and . . .
splat, we're off the plane.
hired a taxi, off to pondicherry for a few days of relaxation and shopping! stop outside the airport for petrol. we're greeted by four, yes four, attendants who assist us in fueling the car, then are carefully directed back onto the highway by yet another attendant waving a lighted wand like those used to park the airplanes at the gate. now that's full service.
well, i've been here nearly a week and have been working on my own travel guide for india. here it is, i hope you'll find it useful next time you visit . . .
dawn's travel tips . india
getting around
driving any vehicle, or being a passenger in any vehicle in india, is a lot like getting off the plane in india. it's a surge. with lots of horn blowing, bell clanging and squeaky toy sounds. every red light is like the line up at the indi 500 . . . engines roaring and vehicles straining for the green. the moment the green appears, the sound of the horns and blowers reaches a climax and the entire block of waiting traffic surges forward at full speed in every direction. lanes lines are for decoration only and it's not unusual at all to see trucks, cars, motorcycles, rickshaws and bicycles barreling down the "wrong" side of the road at break-neck speed. i've finally realized that all the horn blowing and squeaky tooting operates like sonar on a bat, giving each driver a sense of his location in the pack as he accomplishes seemingly impossible feats of intricate traffic negotiation. what's amazing is that you almost never see an accident - and - as a pedestrian, you'll never be run over as long as you walk directly where you want to go. oh, i forgot to mention that in india, you don't walk on the sidewalk (it's too lonely up there) you always walk in the street (adds to the fun). important to remember, as a pedestrian, never hesitate or change direction suddenly. the drivers' sonar has you placed for passing within 4-6 centimeters and your uncertainty could set a whole new cacophony of horn blowing, bell ringing and squeaky toy tooting into action, thereby throwing off the balance of traffic for a radius of at least a hundred kilometers.
negotiating a fee with your rickshaw driver
at the tourist office i was informed that any local rickshaw fee should be no more than 30 rupees (about 75 cents). when hiring a rickshaw always ask the driver if he is familiar with where you want to go, ask the rate, and make sure you have small change. this way you avoid taking the scenic route #1, avoid negotiating the rate after the journey #2 (usually results in a 100% increase in those cases), and avoid paying 100 rupees for a 30 rupee fare simply because you don't have small change #3. i'm so good at this, let me tell you about my rickshaw experience last week after shopping. it was late at night and i'd just finished some prime shopping along nehru street. hailed a rickshaw, gave him the name of my hotel and asked the rate. he said 19 rupees. time to negotiate! i said 30 rupees. he countered 19 rupees. i said 30! he smiled to me in the sweetest way and said, ok, 25 rupees. it took me half the way back to the hotel to realize that i'd just negotiated the fare up, not down. just a little quick on the old negotiating trigger there, dawn. world traveler, yes that's me.
making arrangements . for anything
whether you are making arrangements for a tour, or having your laundry done there's an art to doing this here in india. first, it's important to note that many people (see petrol station above) are needed to make, let alone complete, any arrangements you may wish. this is where the round and round conversations come in too. here's how it goes. at the hotel front desk . . . i'd like to hire a taxi to go to the temple at tiruvannamalai. madam, you wish to go to tiruvannamalai? yes. madam where do you want to go? i want to go to tiruvannamalai. when do you want to go, madam? tomorrow. where do you want to go? at this moment, the bell boy (who, over the past 2 days, has become my personal butler) arrives to set the record straight. madam is going to tiruvannamalai. when? tomorrow. hotel manager makes a phone call to inquire about a taxi. at this moment, your last 3 rickshaw drivers appear. what time will the taxi arrive for madam? we are waiting for confirmation. bell boy asks, madam, are you going to tiruvannamalai? yes. hotel manager says, i will call you in your room with the rate for confirmation. ok. i walk into my room, 2 meters from the hotel front desk, the phone is already ringing. the hotel manager is on the the line, madam, you wish to go to tiruvannamalai? yes. tomorrow? yes. the rate is 2,250 rupees. ok, yes, i agree. thank you madam. 2 hours later, phone rings. madam are you confirmed that you are going to tiruvannamalai tomorrow morning? yes. next morning, 8 am, time taxi is scheduled, i arrive to the hotel front desk. i am ready for my taxi. hotel manager . . . you booked a taxi? yes. when? last night. where are you going?
;)
about an hour later i was packed safely away in my taxi to tiruvannamalai by my hotel manager, bell boy and last 3 rickshaw drivers. happily and safely on my way.
visiting the temples
the temples of india are colorful, intricate and mysterious. they are filled with exotic priests conducting beautiful pujas for the many devotees who visit each day. on my first day in pondicherry i entered the temple nearest my hotel and began to wander from deity to deity taking it all in. as i approached one of the grandest places in the temple i found several people gathering at the doorway and a priest in the midst of some lovely preparations. i stood back from the door, to be out of the way, but the kind people motioned me forward, inviting me to take part in the ritual that was about to begin. first, the priest offered everyone a sip of holy water. it all happened so fast, before i knew it, i was drinking this holy water and rubbing it on my head while visions of tour books strictly prohibiting the drinking of any water other than bottled water in india flashed in my head. i'll be fine, i'll be fine, was my holiest of holy prayers just then. wait, we weren't finished with the ritual yet. next, we were all given a small handful of fresh mint to eat. i tried to pretend that i was eating it, but couldn't get away with that one. the priest, vaguely resembling my mother, stood there and watched me while i really ate the mint. ok. i'll be fine. i began to feel a powerful energy in me and all around me. (the energy of the temple deities?) or (the beginnings of dysentery?) i'd soon find out. i sat quietly next to a man who was chanting, just to take in the intense vibe. it was wonderful. meditating had never been easier - wow - stillness. opened my eyes just a few minutes later to see that i was about to take part in yet another glorious ritual, happening just one meter away from where i was sitting. the priest came to each of us with the burning camphor lamp so that we could receive the light into our eyes and hearts. then, he touched our heads with the lid of the silver dish, nourishing our souls. next we sat and he gave us prasad, food from god. fresh fruit, then rice. this time, i just couldn't manage it. i pretended (yes, I admit it) to take one bite then saw a woman across from me give her portion to her husband and took my cue, giving mine to the woman seated next to me. as i was leaving, a lovely man approached me saying, "another one, very cautious". yes, yes, i admit it. well, it will be different next time! that following day in my hotel room i made a plan. while brushing my teeth with my sonicare toothbrush, one foot on the mothball that had been rolling around on the floor, the other resting near the edge of my indian toilet (a hole in the ground with traction grooves), i made a decision, i know what i'll do at tiruvannamalai! i will avoid going near any of the priests! this way there'll be no holy water, mint or prasad issues to deal with. right. off to tiruvannamalai! later that afternoon, there i was, in tiruvannamalai. extraordinary. nine intricately carved towers, one for each of the openings to the human body (i think i may have upset the balance of the hindu faith when i mentioned to my guide, who was completely unaware, that the female body actually has 10 openings. let's see what happens in hinduism over the coming months). tiruvannamalai is over 1,800 years old and was built around an even more ancient temple, which has been standing for over 2,500 years. breathtaking, and so powerful that my senses expanded and morphed, everything seemed to be happening around me and inside me at once. i was slowly exploring this magnificent temple, keeping a safe distance from any priest, holy water, fruit or rice, when . . .
lo and behold . . .
a beautiful, sweet, loving young pregnant woman dressed in a soft green sari walked up to me and gave me her prasad.
a portion of rice mixed with broth and spices in a bowl made from pressed coconut leaves.
i could hear the laughter of god among the tinkling bells of the priests.
i ate the prasad with all the love it was given . . . i knew then, for certain, it was . . . food from god.
head nodding
last one. i almost forgot this, probably the single most important travel tip for traveling safely in india - head nodding. this one's tough in the beginning and until you've mastered head nodding, you will find you're getting loads of things you didn't realize you were asking for, and not getting lots of things you've tried desperately to procure. the moment i arrived to my hotel in pondicherry the bell boy asked me if i'd like something to drink. yes, i'll have a sweet lasi. he nods his head side to side, as if to indicate "no". i say, oh, i can't have a sweet lasi? yes madam, would madam like a sweet lasi? i say yes. he nods his head side to side. i reply, there are no sweet lasis? he nods his head side to side. would madam like a sweet lasi? (asked with all the patience of job) i reply, please bring me a sweet lasi. head nods side to side. i surrender. close the door. my sweet lasi arrives just a few minutes later. whew. so remember, head nodding side to side means . . . i am acknowledging that sound is coming out of your mouth.
i'm in india a week now and the softening is just beginning to really happen. the brittle shell of my carefulness and self-imposed separateness is dissolving. i'm beginning to enjoy myself, and india is beginning to share it's leela with me; the play of life. today, i found myself smiling, not to gain favor or to get anything, smiling just because i am happy. india is smiling back at me. as i arrived back at my hotels after my daily aryuvedic massage, the hotel manager was hiding my room key between his hands. as i asked for it, he revealed it like a magician with great playfulness and a big white toothy smile. after my shower i went down to the restaurant for my thali, only to find it too late for the lunch menu. my waiter suggested many other afternoon snacks, but nothing sounded good to me and the thali was not available . . . seconds later it appeared . . . the best thali i've ever had in my life. this time i was the one smiling from ear to ear, which brought me more and more and more thali until i was bursting at the seams and in my heart, surrounded by at least four smiling waiters as i ate. the more joy i feel, the more joy i see in every indian person i meet. it's something like that sonar. we're connected. there's only 4-6 centimeters between us all, at most, and when i allow myself to feel the joy of simple things, i find i'm not alone. i find myself basking in a joy that's shared by everyone in this big surge of life, in full force, in every direction.
india.
i feel like i've come home
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