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090/99 Introducing His Holiness I'm beginning to wonder if my life is real anymore. Dharamsala is more of a wonderland than an actual place. Every moment marks the start of another great adventure. Last Friday, the adventure was particularly unreal: I shook the hand of the XVI Dalai Lama. Security filed the queue past the temporal and spiritual leader of Tibet quickly. His Holiness was in town only for a few days. His schedule was undoubtedly tight. The Dalai maintains a strict daily routine of scripture reading and meditation, around which he squeezes in audiences, teachings, and performing the tasks of a political leader. Buddhists consider him to be Compassion incarnate and you can feel why when you're in his presence. The energy began building the minute we began heading towards the temple. The community had been calmly buzzing since the day before when Tibetans celebrated Democracy Day and Hindus began rituals in honour of Rama Krishna's birthday. We assembled in the main temple courtyard, about 250 Westerners and a handful of formally-dressed Indians. Tibetans waited in a separate area, among them recently arrived refugees and pilgrims. I waited silently among the throng of Westerners, happy to be in sunshine. The atmosphere was filled with hope and anticipation. The energy became almost palpable as we filed forward, now moving with relative speed. I noticed Westerners walking single-file, slowly, against the crowd. All were smiling, some with a beatific glow, fastening their gifts from the Dalai, a sacred red thread, immediately around their wrist. Everything zoomed into fast-forward and slow-motion at once. I saw security guards and cameramen and there was the Dalai Lama shaking the hands of my fellow travelers! "Faster", a security guard gestured with his walkie-talkie. There were only 2 people in front of me now. Then it was me. My mind switched to autopilot. This man won the Nobel Peace Prize. He is a Bodhisattva, a hero, a head of state. I was in awe. I managed a "tashi delek" then looked shyly away. I could not possibly make eye-contact (fortunately - it is considered a breach of etiquette). He boomed a resonant "tashi delek" in response and I felt like I was flying. I have no reference for the emotions which poured over me. A friend said he felt an incredibly deep, but calm compassion come over him. I felt something I cannot put into words. Dharamsala really is a magic place. [From Julie]
tedinasia@hotmail.com
08/18/99 Wisdom's Son Dharamsala is a magnet town. It attracts anything which is strange and people from around the world. It is also a magnet for Tibetan exiles fleeing from Chinese oppression. As you walk through MacLeodganj, you see refugees everywhere. Some wear the maroon robes of the monastery or nunnery. Some wear the traditional dress and silver jewelery of their ancestors. The younger ones strut down the streets in blue jeans and t-shirts. They represent the modern generation, born into exile, more interested in Western amenities than Tibetan culture. I have gotten to know one exile quite well: Yeshi Nyima, a 24 year old monk who approached Ted and I on our first day in MacLeodganj. He was looking for an English teacher. His eyes lit up when he heard I'd be in town for a few months. Ted and I could not say no, especially to someone whose name translates into "Wisdom Sun". The most amazing thing about Nyima's story is that it is not unusual. He is only one of thousands of Tibetans who have fled Chinese-occupied Tibet since 1959 when His Holiness, the Dalai Lama IXV, went into exile in India. When he was 12, Nyima said goodbye to his mother and siblings and left the small village of Mundgod, located in what was then western Amdo. He set out with his uncle and aproximately 30 other refugees. They left from Lhasa, the Tibetan capitol, on foot. They carried food and supplies. Destination: Kathmandu, Nepal. There they would be given international refugee status by the UN. During the 3 week journey to Kethmandu, the refugees traveled mostly by night to avoid encountering the Chinese or Nepali police. Capture by either could mean imprisonment and torture. The journey was extremely arduous. Nyima rode most of the way on his uncle's back. They were lucky though. They made good time and nobody died. After completing processing in Kathmandu, Nyima continued on to India. His uncle had already made arrangements to enrol Nyima in a monastery in southern India. Until 6 months ago, Nyima studied and resided at Derpuing Monastery in Hubli. He came to Dharamsala to continue his studies and learn English. In 4 more years he will receive his doctorate in Buddhist philosophy and exchange his maroon robes for yellow ones. Then he will earn the title "geshe". By then Nyima hopes his English will be good enough to teach philosophy and astrology to Westerners. If he makes enough money he will be able to buy himself a passport. If he is very lucky, he will be invited to teach at a Buddhist institution in England, America, or Australia. This is the dream of many young monks in exile. They do not want to remain in India and they do not want to return to Tibet. India holds nothing but communities of countrymen. Tibet holds fear. The record of human rights abuses in Tibet is no secret: re-education, torture, murder, forced sterilization. Nyima sees no reason to return to that world. He's hoping to return one day when Tibet is free. Nyima is only one of thousands waiting for change in Dharamsala. [From Julie]
tedinasia@hotmail.com
09/07/99 Blunders in Spirituality (or Why I Think Goenka is a Bunch of Brainwashing) Sometimes whims work out. Sometimes they don't. I admit I knew little about the 10 day Vipassana meditation course when I registered for it. Information I was given during registration stated that Vipassana " ... elimates the 3 main causes of all unhappiness: craving, aversion, and ignorance. With continued practice, the meditation releases the tensions developed in everyday life, opening the knots tied by the old habit of reacting in an unbalanced way to pleasant and unpleasant situations". It worked for Buddha. I thought I'd give it a try. During registration, I am given the course Code of Discipline. Strict adherence is necessary to purify and concentrate the mind. The Code lists 5 precepts which must be observed: no killing; no stealing; no lying; no intoxicant use; no sexual activity. There are other rules as well: no practicing religion/spirituality; no reading; no writing; no music; no physical activity. There is a strict eating schedule and Noble Silence is observed at all times. This means no communicating of any kind with another student: no speaking, no looking, no gesturing, no contact. When I arrive for the August 26 course, I am full of enthusiasm. I had heard nothing but positive reports. Some friends who just came out were absolutely glowing. I am excited. I am about to travel beyond geography. The check-in process makes me laugh. It feels like I am checking into a summer school program. There is a lot of hushed nervous whispering and checking each other out going on. We are segregated according to sex immediately. I hope no one looks through our packs. I have smuggled in some contraband: a small notebook, 2 pens, my journal, a lighter, and 8 cigarettes. After an introductory assembly, Noble Silence begins. We are ushered into the Dhamma Hall and shown our assigned floorspace, a cushion and pillow. We take our seats and the Teacher Assistant strides into the Hall from a side door. He's a fat middle-aged Indian man, swathed in bright white robes. He sits on a low dais, also draped in white. He plays tape recordings of Goenka chanting from an AV system within hand's reach on his right. A television on his left will run the one-hour nightly discourses given by Goenka. Day 1 of the course begins at 4:00 am with the wake-up bell tolling over and over and over again. I fall back asleep, waking up with a start, and roll into the Dhamma Hall by 5:00. I arrange myself carefully on my pillow, straighten my back, cross my legs, close my eyes, take a few deep breaths, and promptly nod off to sleep. I spend the next hour-and-a-half drifting to sleep, and snapping my head back up, drifting to sleep, and snapping my head back up. The session closes with a tape of Goenka caterwauling in unintelligible Hindi. This is irritating, but now, at least, I'm up. A scanty breakfast and then back in for another meditation session. The daily schedule is tight and extremely regimented: 8 hours of meditation, an hour and a half for discourse, an hour to speak with the Teacher Assistant, and several hours for meal breaks and hygiene issues. During breaks the only permitted activities are bathing, sitting, eating, drinking, and pacing. We are kept in a small roped-in area, the Females' Quarters. The silence begins to feel unhealthy to me by the end of the first day. Breaks are engulfed in an air of depression. The women maintain Noble Silence. All look down at the ground and sit around swaddled in blankets to keep the mountain chill away. Everybody hunches over their food bowls like starving wildwomen, hugging cups of chai to their chest like it is the last tether connecting them to Earth. I keep thinking of prison camps. I've never been in one, but I think this is what it would be like. By the end of Day 1, the course routine is well-established. There is little time to sleep, little to eat, and hours and hours of motionless sitting. The hours come and go, dreamlike. Reality and dream become blurred. I can no longer tell if I am asleep or awake. There are people around, but they all seem like puppets, drifting in and out of their own dream landscapes. I keep waiting for something to happen, for someone to teach us something. Aren't we supposed to be learning some technique? But no. All we are told is to concentrate on our nasal passages, feel the flow of respiration as it occurrs naturally, and bring the mind back when it wanders. I do this, wandering frequently off to sleep, sometimes thinking about old friends, sometimes thinking about nothing but my nose. I am feeling restless and jello-like. Day 2 begins and it is more of the same. In his discourse the night before, Goenka said nothing we hadn't heard before. Sometime after lunch, I realize just how bored I am. Not talking, not reading, nothing, and I am getting tired of living in my head. I live there every day and I wasn't seeing anything new. I am beyond bored. When are we going to learn something? Curiosity overcomes me and I break the rules during the next session. I open my eyes and I look around the Hall. What I see scares me: 70 grown men and women sitting in perfect silence, obeying every rule, no matter how arbitrary, moderating their day exactly as told, unquestioning, unseeing. I see a roomful of robots. And they are all smiling. Then I begin thinking about the people I've met who've done 2, 3, 4, five [!] Goenka courses. They keep coming back, questing after the promised bliss, making donation after donation after donation. I think about the cult of personality that is being created around Goenka, about the chanting and the videos and the small "be happy" notes posted everywhere complete with smiley face. I wonder why Goenka and the Teacher Assistant are both obese. Last night Goenka reminded us that successful practicioners of Vipassana keep their stomachs 1/4 empty at all times. I think about the end of the first Goenka video. It ends with white words typed in bold on a deep blue background: "May all beings be happy in the Dhamma". I feel disturbed. At the next break, I speak with the the starry-eyed Spanish Female Manager. I tell her that Vipassana's not working for me, that nothing was happening, that I had better results meditating on my own. "If you want to leave," she says "you need to speak with the Teacher Assistant. I can arrange that tomorrow at noon. Only he decides who leaves. But you should wait to Day 4. On that day he will teach you the technique which will make your mind pop out of your head." Interesting, but my sceptical Western mind is happy where it is. The hairs on the nape of my neck are practically standing on end. I go back into the Hall telling myself I will give it another try anyway. During the next session, the Teacher Assistant calls us to the front of the Hall in small groups so he can assess our progress. We have spent 16 hours meditating. We should be at the point where we can feel any breath which hits any part of our upper lip. Everyone mediatates as told. The Teacher Assistant observes. "Feel the flow of air into and out of your nostrils". Yeah, yeah, yeah. Enough with that already. I keep my eyes open and watch everybody else. The Teacher Assistant peering down intently at us doesn't even notice. As soon as I can, I discreetly exit the Hall and smoke an illicit cigarette in a not-so-secret spot. I am trying to decide how to make my escape. My passport and most of my money are all locked away somewhere. I wander back into my shared tarp and tin dorm room, pull out my journal, and begin setting it all down on paper. It's amazing how freely the words are flowing. I haven't communicated anything to anyone in 2 days. I'm so absorbed that I don't even notice the session has ended. A roommate walks in, pretending not to notice what I'm doing. The Female Manager walks in, sees me writing and says, "I think I can arrange for the Teacher Assistant to see you now". Good. She knows a troublemaker when she sees one. The conversation with the TA is tense and heated. Right from the start he accuses me of having a lazy mind. "You want to go so you can go back to your drugs and cigarettes." No, I'm thinking, I have them right here. "No," I tell him, "I just want to learn something, something besides thinking about my nostrils." We argue back and forth. He tells me I cannot leave. I will learn Vipassana on Day 4. I tell him I cannot stay. I ask him why he is so fat. "If I do not leave this will be a very bad course for you and everyone else." He gives the Female Manager directions to let me go, but he snarls, "you will never be admitted into another Goenka course anywhere in the world. Ever!" The Female Manager smiles at me blissfully and picks up our conversation where it left off. The volunteers are all so happy that I am leaving. They would be equally happy if I were staying. They have been programmed well. They ask me to please wait to leave until after the next session begins. I tell them I understand. I really don't want to disrupt anyone else's experience. I collect my passport and money and wait. As I'm exiting the center's rod-iron gate, a glassy-eyed volunteer stops me. "You're leaving?", he says incredulously. Nobody leaves. It is a sure sign of a very weak mind. "Well, don't beat yourself up over this", he says "not everybody can handle it. The important thing is to be happy. Just be happy." He is practically pleading with me. I walk through the gate wearing a gigantic smile. I don't need anyone else to show me the path to bliss, I realize. I already know where it is. [From Julie]
tedinasia@hotmail.com
08/18/99 Rakkor is where the Om Is Ted headed off to Cairo 6 days ago. Already it feels like ages. I miss him terribly, but you know that crazy traveler timewarp is in effect and so it goes ... the next 7 weeks are going to pass like lightening. I moved out of the place Ted and I were staying at in Dharamkot, a small village 3 km up the hill from MacLeodganj, the heart of Dharamsala's Tibetan community. Dharamkot is a beautiful spot, but it just wasn't where I wanted to spend the next 7 weeks. I wanted to find something a little more 'shanti', a little further removed from the masses, and a little closer to the magic wilderness of the Kangra Valley. After a bit of hunting I found a room in a traditional village house, 1 km higher up the mountain, in a small place called Rakkor. Only foottrails lead to this place, located halfway up a steep hill at about 6000 ft. On a clear day the view extends for hundreds of kilometers. On an overcast day the view consists of soft rolling fog, undulating slowly up and down the hills. The people of Rakkor are traditional hill-dwelling Guddi people. They have lived in the area for centuries, scratching out a subsistance-style living, raising goats, cows, donkeys, and chicken. Older Gaddi women sport circular tatoos on their chins and the men wear Nepali-style caps and woolen vests. Other than that they are much like other Indian Hindu people, if not a bit gentler. I am staying with a small family: a grandmother, a mother and two of her three adult children. They have electricity and a few taps which run river water up to the house, but other than that it is all thouroughly medieval. The house is made of mud and a slate roof. Despite having to time my potty breaks to coincide with the brief bits of sunshine, I am loving it. My room doubles as the family's storeroom so I'm not bothering to use a lock. They come and go as they please, but I don't have to worry. They think all my clothes are really quite ugly. My bed consists of burlap and some old worn blankets thrown directly on the mudfloor. I have mice, silverfish, and fleas. They are not the best snuggling companions, but I do have a hearth. I know. It probably sounds miserable. But you should see the view ... [From Julie]
tedinasia@hotmail.com
08/13/99 youcantoo baby [from Ted] Back in New Delhi for 3rd and last time this trip. Top news. We got an apartment that will be waiting for us when we arrive in SF in OCT!!!!!!!!!!!!! We will be living with Chris Fry (Apartment holder numero uno!)
Our new address will be Had a very sad goodbye with Julie last night up at the Dharamsala bus stand. To set the record straight, she has dumped me and we are going our separate ways ..... but to really set the record straight ... It is import to my grandmother and thus important to me that I visit Isreal. Julie was always interested in going and we had wonderlusting plans to overland from India -> Pakistan -> Iran -> Turkey -> Isreal. This is a common route for Europeans and we even met one guy who did it on bicycle and two private vehicles that did it (one took their dog thru every border with them!) Unfortunately, we spent more months getting to India then we planned and flying to the middle east and travelling in Isreal is expensive, so Julie could not join me. We knew that this would be the case for some months now. Therefore I will finish this trip by going to Egypt and Isreal (I leave tomorrow!) and Julie will finish it in India, possible exclusively in Dharamsala. The ironic thing is she will return to the states 10 days after I and hold the longest 'duration on the road' award between us. Dharamsala, the northernmost Tibetan exile community in India and the seat of it's exiled spirtual ruler, is a spectacular place - almost like being in another country. Rather rainy now (and thus a bit chilly at 5000 feet) but interacting with optimistic Tibetans from all walks of Tibetan life is really a pleasure. The mood is so good and convincing that even the indians in the area seem to be a lot more at peace and less confrontational. So tomorrow I leave for Egypt. Now my mind is trying to wrap itself around, desert oasises, Ibis headed gods, 4th century coptic christian chruches, mediterranean ports and the diving wonderland of the Red Sea. I am also overjoyed to read most tapwater is potable. That would end my 7 month stretch without being able to enjoy one glass of water from the tap! Hopefully email will be available where I go so I will continue updates. Julie and I amassed some travel lists the other night. I have slept in 102 cities/towns/hamlets/jungle homesteads/desert outposts/anchorages since leaving Oct 4 1998! Imagine how many different mattresses that makes (YIKES), and that number does not include return visits. And after last night's night bus into Delhi, I have spent 15 nights of this trip sleeping on buses/trains/ferries. I really hope last night's was the last. I am just to old for that crap (well, I do enjoy the trains, it's the buses that are just too sophmoric) I hope everyone is great. I'll write from Africa. I can't belive it, getting to touch a whole new continent. Mmmmm Northern Sahara in mid-August, nothing like going against the weather to get a town to yourself! I miss Julie very much and I can't believe I have to wait until SF before I see her again. T-
tedinasia@hotmail.com
08/05/99 Deep End, Here I Come
I watched an interesting documentary last night about
reforms at India's worst prison, Tihar, located in
Delhi: 10,000 prisoners, most awaiting sentencing for
years, some Westerners among them, all living in
sqalid conditions. The administration started
teaching Vispassana
An interesting British bloke Ted and I've met (thanks
for the tea, David) and the monk, Nyima, we are
tutoring in English both recommended a Vipassana
center in Dharamkot (the village where Ted and I are
staying). 6 weeks ago I would have laughed at the
idea of me going through a 10 day silent retreat, but
after experiencing an overwhelming response to yoga,
I thought 'why not?' I just registered for the Aug 26
- 6 Sept course. I'll be reporting back with full
details.
Still haven't found the yoga situation I'm looking
for, but Ted's found a yogi. They're probably in the
Camel Position as I write.
--your cult-member-in-waiting, Julie
tedinasia@hotmail.com
everyonecandoittoo
[From Ted]
My grandmother died in her sleep at 3am July 27th, after a couple years of
nagging kidney problems and sad sad complications. I found out the 29th.
There was an email in my inbox sent the 25th from my sister letting me know
what bad shape she was in and her hospital room's phone number. It crushed
me knowing that just two days ago I could have maybe spoke with her, but
from here on out we could never speak again.
Before even begining this trip I knew I was sacrifing the opportunity to be
there if the last days came. I had come to terms with that. But as we had
begun starting to resurface on this trip, I could see America far off in the
distance again, and started wondering why I would be here and not there. I
sent her a letter the 26th promising I would be back to the states Oct 1. I
was sure she would make it, regardless of what reports I heard from home.
.....
Most of the time I forget there has been any change, but when I stop to
really consider what has happened - like now - or calling her house to
speak with my family the day of the funeral - it is really heart breaking. I
wonder how crushing it would have been if it had happened when we were in
Myanmar or another out-of-touch country. Finding out two days after the fact
in a loveless email center in Delhi's backpacker slum was bad enough, but to
know a month too would have made me feel like dog dirt.
.....
It's all OK, we had said all we needed to say to each other years before I
left on the trip, and when I return I'll have to make the sad sad drive up
to her house in Massachussets (the site of series of family vactions, back
in the day when all us four kids could sit in the back of the station wagon
and get maple syrup candy stuck everywhere) and go visit her grave and
finally say good bye as best I can.
I can't really finish this ... what more needs to be said?
tedinasia@hotmail.com
Stop the Presses!
Julie and Ted decide to come home!
Nearly 10 months on the road and the end is now
officially in sight - return tickets to the States
were purchased today. I will fly from Delhi into SF
on October 2. Ted should be crashlanding right behind
me.
And I do mean 'crashland'. Both of us will be in need
of work, a home, and serious quantities of bagels,
burritos, TLC, and possibly anti-psychotics. After a
year living out of the pack, finding a living
situation will be the major priority. Any and all
help will be rewarded 10,000 times over. And that is
a direct promise from the Karma gods.
Meantime, India continues to daze, amaze, and expand
the mind. Had an excellent time exploring the magical
desert cities of Rajasthan with my sister, Jennifer,
and her friend, Janet. We just dropped her off at the
airport 2 nights ago and are now off to Dharamsala,
high in the Himalayas, home to the Dalai Lama and
exiled Tibetan government.
Rumour is, Dharamsala is an atypical Indian town:
quiet, peaceful, calm. I'll be making the area my
home for the next 2 months, studying yoga, maybe
taking in a little Buddhist philosophy. We'll see.
Ted will stay in Dharamsala for the next 2 weeks,
then continue on to Egypt and Israel, before arriving
in NY Sept 20.
Stay in touch and stay groovy. I am looking forward
to seeing you all soon.
-- Julie
tedinasia@hotmail.com
Rajasthan update
[From Ted- Pushkar, Rajasthan, India]
Spent last three weeks in India's Thar desert. Sand castles (and palace and
fort and dunes and temples and camels), magic swirls all around us (as well
as foul smells, harrasing touts and men who lie for pleasure).
We've travelled thru Jaipur, Jodhpur, the desert outpost of Osiyan, Pushkar
and Ajmer. The highlight has been a three day camel trek thru the desert
outback. We found a high-end operation ready to bargain bargain on some
off-season itinerants, so we set out with fancy table settings, safari tents
a chef our camel men (all Rajput stalwarts impervious to the blistering heat
and nightly downpurs). It is easily one of the most romantic in-depth
adventures of this journey. We stopped for meals in villages that felt as
old as the desert itself. The women were layered in heavy silver anklets,
bangles and necklaces, though they rarely pulled their jungle-bird colored
saris from over their faces. The men wore fabulously bright turbans had
faces like steel wool and sported impressivly famous bushy/wiry Rajasthani
mushtaches of the raj's day.
Now we are in the holy city of Pushkar, a quiet respite from normal
all-too-in-your-face Indian insanity. It is said the small desert lake here
was formed by the impression of a lotus Vishnu dropped from the heavens.
Nearby Ajmer is said to be the 2nd holiest muslim spot (I'm doubtful) but we
found the mosque and tombs there to be treated with great reverence by the
hopeful masses that come to give offerings.
We head back to Delhi in two days as Julie's sister is soon flying home. WE
already took her to Agra to see the Taj, etc. and had a great day there.
4 Rs/ minute adds up, so I'll write more from Delhi
tedinasia@hotmail.com
Ucan2
Ahh New Delhi ... what a dump.
I must have been quite twisted from Bangladesh as the last time I came here
(via there) I found it to be a clean, modern city of the future. It still
has all the history I recall, but what a hassle. We leave for Rajasthan
tomorrow (Jaipur) and we are most pleased! Julie's sister Jennifer has been
here for two GREAT days now and Jen's friend Janet (also from ZDTV) met with
us this morning and we'll be travelling as a foursome. That should make it
nice and easy to arrange our own camel safari off int he desert and really
get out there for a couple days. It is smoking hot (100 and up, both here
and there) so we are trying to stay inside during the burning hours, but it
is not so bad.
Yesterday we made a day trip down to Agra. Left the room before 6am and
returned just before 11pm, but it was great. Took train down and back, very
managable. Saw the Taj!, Agra Fort and I'Timad-Ud-Daula ( that baby Taj),
very glad we were able to knock off Agra tactically, as it is very
accesible, but I bet with Jen our days will get very tight.
Had a hilarious conversation with a store owner by the Taj. We walk in
looking to avail the 8 rupee mineral water he has a sign for. They tell us
we don;t want it as it is tap water and then ask a high price for the real
stuff. Typical bait and switch. After getting them down to the fair price
for the real stuff, we start laying into him. We ask why he lies about the
sign, and amazingly he does not deny, but is proud. His false advertising,
he claims is the only way to do business, and more, that cheating is the
only way to do business. All men are bad and life is tough. We asked doesn't
he feel bad at night knowing he is a cheater and he is defying the words of
his religion and his next life will be a big step back, but he had no fears.
He is a cheater and liar, his father walked out and said he was a cheater
and liar and his son chimed in and said he was one too.
I must admit it was refreshing hearing the straight deal instead of the
ususal "me no cheater man," but depressing and stunning all the same.
T-
tedinasia@hotmail.com
Youcantoo update from TED
[as always, ignore the typos!]
We are now one week shy of 9 months continuous travelling. 9 months was our
best pre-departure guess at how long we hoped to be gone when we were asked.
That we have made it this far, with our health, without being victemized,
with our courage, stamina, and sanity. The good news is I have now cleansed
myself of all acculated sin after dunking myslef three times beneath the
soil rich water of the Ganga Mai (Mother Ganges), still rather chilly with
Himilayan runoff. Financially, we can't spend enough in some countries. We
are probably spending about $75 UD/week in India (like Indonesia & Laos) and
we aren't even close to the dirt-bag penny pincher levels - though we are
rather stoic with our splurges.
Nepal was a bit of a low. We spent too much time recupperating in Kathmandu,
waiting for our Indian visas (one week) and getting back in touch with the
world (or a very remote node of it) after being so far off the map for 2 and
a half months in China, Myanmar, and Bangladesh. The rains made plan making
highly subjective, but what I found most annoying were the drove of tourist
you get corralled in with after hardly seeing any since we left Laos in
March! The limited limited road network combined with the controlled
trekking areas, means, for the most part, that whereever you go, there are
tourist [cottage] industry touts, hawkers, middle-men, thieves and general
hangers-on that are constantly between you and what you went to see. If
anyone else feels this way here are some off the loop places (hundreds more
must exist ... but airfare is pricey, as are permist to remote areas ... up
to $700/week)
Bhaktapur: 10km from Kathmandu. All the splendor, palaces and temples of
Kathmandu, but without any of the growth. A medieval city inhabited by
modern-medieval Newaris. Watch the deceased burn in the ghats. Stroll the
streets to thin for cars without being hassled
Tansen (aka Palpa): Halfweay down the Sidhartha highway between Pokhara and
the Indian border (Lumbini, the birthplace of Lord Buddha). Traditional
villages at 3000 ft. Amazingly, inhabitants seem to have something more
interesting to do than stare at foreigners so it is a very casual place
where people guess you are a development worker rather than a tourist.
Royal Bardia Nat'l Park: This one is hard to get to (by long local bus or
plane), but for $10 a day you get the royal treatment, service,
arrangements, and special considerations. We literally missed seeing a tiger
and rhinos by one(!) day. The weather ahd been scorching and a tiger and
rhinos had been sneaking out to a nearby riuver to cool down. Everyone at
our palce had seen the tiger. The day we set out at 5am there was a light
sprinkle. The rain came in hard for three days, almost locking us behind
open roads, and the tiger and rhinos had to no need to risk exposure. We did
see fabulous and obscure wildlife and if you wnated to spend more money you
could go see muggers and gharials, or wild elephants and buffalos.
And that was it for Nepal. we continued west to the lightly used
Mahadrenagar/Banbassa border with India.
Ahhhhh India. How can it be. After reading some of the epcis like the
Ramayana and the Mahabarata, I get the feeling that its much like if the
Greek/Roman religions continued on to this very day without all the
theological and intellectual advances. India is as hard to get your hands
around as it is populated. I knew the Ganges was a river of utmost
spirtuality, but to see people reaching it, bathing in it, preaching beside
it is more than you can take in in one or two sittings. Rishikesh (where we
are now at the last turn in the foothils before the river floods out across
the Indian sub-continent) isn;t even Varanasi where cremations and throngs
of faithful bob in the then highly highly already used water.
My plan is to head upward from here. To the temple of Kedarnath - accessible
only by foot - marked as aan abode of Shiva and reverencing a nearby Ganga
source. It is at 10,000+ ft. and at the cradle of two 20,000+ peaks. I hope
to see another 24,000+ ft peak in the area (the highly sacred Mt Kalaish on
the Tibet border and other temples in the hills.
I wish I could begin to tell all the stories that have bemused and tired us
so when dealing with the Indian tourist as we have been here in Rishikesh.
We've also had a most healthy time attending yoga workshops at some of the
ashrams. They are mostly walk-in and easy on the spirtualism (though this is
defintely a place where you could walk right off the deep-end and there are
thousands willing to help you make thpose last steps. As enticing as
superconsciousness and devine elightment are, treking in the himalayas and
camle safari in Rajasthan are more what we are after!
Damn this stuff adds up. 3x as much an our here than 9 hrs away in Delhi.
I'll write more there.
Anyone know if US citizens can still get viasa to Iran?
TED
tedinasia@hotmail.com
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