Monday, December 17, 2012

Friendly Strangers- Udaipur

Lina the Autistic Caregiver

    One fine day I was at the Lake Shore Restaurant/Hotel enjoying the view and a coffee when Jamail came in. He told me that he met another Canadian. I was very surprised as I hadn’t met many Canadians in my travels thus far, mostly Europeans, Australians, and New Zealanders. Jamail said that he told this lady, apparently around my age, all about me. Jamail also said that she was going to be coming to the Lake Shore Restaurant that evening so I should come and meet her.
    Later that evening I had completely forgotten about this other Canadian in Udaipur, but found myself heading to the Lake Shore restaurant anyways. When I got there I saw a North American woman sitting at one of the tables looking out to the water. The second I saw her I remembered what Jamail had told me and went over to introduce myself.
    From Toronto Lina had completed her Masters and had been traveling for the past five months, leaving six months for her total trip. She had started in in Europe going to Lithuania, Greece, Turkey. Then to Tanzania and Ghana for a few months. She had just arrived in India from the Ana Purna trek in Nepal. Quite the route! We spoke about care-giving, L’Arche, and her work with Autistic children.
    Lina is a vegan so I took her to Millets of Mewar, my local haunt as they have vegan options. We both discussed our shared love of Fresh, an amazing vegan/vegetarian restaurant in Toronto.
    Unfortunately Lina was in Udaipur for only a few days, but long enough to share some moments together, as well as some good meals, and great conversation. Us Canadian girls have to stick together!!

Jamail- Tour Guide Extraordinaire

    I met Jamail when I first arrived in Udaipur. I approached a group of men asking about a rikshaw. Jamail was the first to step up to the plate. I had planned on going to the Mewar Inn in Udaipur. I had no idea where this was. As we drove Jamail made polite conversation and asked where I was from. After I responded Canada he passed me a leather bound notebook filled with sentiments, thank-you’s, and recommendations from tourists. I read the ones from other Canadians and Americans, and a couple in Spanish. After reading many pages Jamail stopped the rikshaw and told me that the Mewar Inn was far from the centre of town and it would be much more difficult to meet other tourists, let alone get into town regularly. He asked if I wanted to see the property he owned, and consider staying there instead. This was my first introduction to my dear Jamail.
    Jamail has been working since he was fourteen or fifteen years old. He started as a rikshaw driver. He had a very unique experience in his early life. One evening he was across from the train station when he saw a young white female waiting outside the train station in the very very early hours of the morning. At the time the Mafia had shut down all rikshaw driving in the late evening and early morning hours. Probably so no one would find out what they were up to. Jamail saw this young woman and knew she needed help, or more specifically a ride to a hotel. He got into his rikshaw and started to drive. He was immediately pulled over by the police. He said he was just going to get gas for the rikshaw. He instead picked up this young, British woman and asked her where she wanted to go. He dropped her at a hotel so she was safe for the night.
    The next day the young British woman asked the hotel staff to find the same rikshaw driver who have kept her safe the evening before, and ask him to come to the hotel to take her around for sight-seeing. The hotel staff had no idea it was Jamail that had dropped her off and tried to convince the lady to hire someone else. But she was adamant that it be Jamail. It took some time but the hotel located Jamail and told him to come take the British woman around for sight-seeing.
    The young lady was from a very wealthy family in England. She had come to India for however long she wanted, with a very large budget. Day after day Jamail would take her to the different sights in and around Udaipur. They got to know each other very well. Over time the woman fell for Jamail, and he for her. Even though she lived in England she would fly back and forth to India on a regular basis for them to be together. Eventually she wanted to marry Jamail but he refused her. His sense of responsibility to his family was too great to leave them all and go to England. Not to mention the differences of wealth, class, and the language which, Jamail was slowly learning. They broke off their relationship but she bought him his own rikshaw. The British woman made him promise that he would only accept Western tourists as customers. She knew that was the only way for him to make good money in India. He held true to his word and serviced only tourists since that young age.
    In India most rikshaw drivers do not own their own rikshaws; they rent them on a daily basis. In the course of a day they need to make enough money to 1)pay the rental fee for the rikshaw, 2) pay for the gas used during the day and 3) enough to support themselves and their families. For Jamail, owning his own riskhaw gave him a huge advantage that most other drivers do not have, or will never get.
    I thought this story was absolutely fascinating. I further thought that the slightest coincidences and occurrences in our lives can dictate so much. If Jamail had never picked up this woman and had that experience he probably would not be in the position he is in today. Jamail does incredibly well for him and his family. He not only owns a rikshaw, but a motorbike, and a car, as well as his own home. He is part owner in the hotel and restaurant I would frequent. All this from a chance encounter with a British woman and being a tourist guide in the beautiful city of Udaipur.


Milking Molly 30’s encouragement ;)


    Molly was staying at the Aravali Guest house same as me. She was waiting for Accram one morning when I went to milk the cows. He had invited her to come see the cows as well. We really only chatted that morning. But what was so memorable was her encouragement. I had mentioned that I wanted to go back to school for acupuncture, but was feeling disappointed that I was beginning this schooling and career so late. She told me that it was the perfect age to do this type of work as I already have life experience. She said that not as many people would want to go see a practitioner who was barely out of high-school; they wouldn’t feel as comfortable and confident in their skills, practice, or ability.    I thought about it and realised she was right. I was very grateful to her for this new perspective and outlook on acupuncture school!

Accram at Arravli

    Accram is the manager of the Arravli Guest House I stayed at in Udaipur. His family owns the hotel as well as the Lake Shore Restaurant/ Hotel and a new hotel they will be opening up in a year or two. Accram is my age, or just about. One day I mentioned the date and he said it was close to his birthday. So I asked when his birthday was and he told me it was within the next couple of weeks, and that he was born in 82’. Shortly thereafter he said that he was actually born in December of 83’ but he had given the birth date from 83’ so he could start school with the rest of his peers and not be put in the grade lower than him. So Accram is around my age, I think.
    A very nice man indeed. I mentioned that I loved ice cream and instead of me going out in search of it everyday Accram bought a container of ice cream and kept it in the freezer for whenever I had a craving. He is also the man who taught me how to milk the cows, and who would laugh and laugh at me as I would make all sorts of funny faces trying to figure out the proper way to milk a cow. Ha ha ha!
    Because Accram was the manager of the hotel he was bound to the building, so we would often sit on the rooftop and chat. I soon learned that Accram loved his gossip as he would give me running commentaries on all the hotel guests. Ha ha ha ha. When you are a tourist you are always being watched. Nothing escapes the locals as their eyes are always on you!
    Accram used to swim competitively at the national level in India. In his early twenties he suffered a back injury and wasn’t able to swim after that. Accram always struck me as a modest and somewhat reserved man. He was not like the other Indian shop keepers who would constantly leer, holler, and disturb me everyday. He was respectful and polite and I appreciated that. This is probably why we became good friends. That being said, when he would talk about his youth and the years he swam it seemed that he was a bit of a bad ass. Apparently he was even thrown into jail one night for something illegal. I think it was probably pretty harmless; trespassing, or vandalism. Accram, being a Muslim, did not drink, or take drugs, he had never even smoked a cigarette. But anytime he would go back to those memories of swimming, and his friends he would giggle and giggle. Obviously some very good memories there.
    Accram was great and I really appreciated being treated like a human being, not just another tourist, and not just another Westerner. I was very thankful for this and felt taken care of by him. Kind of like one of the family. Whatever I needed he would get, like the ice cream. Or if I ever needed help he was there. One day I went to retrieve my camera so I could take pictures of the new hotel they are building, when I went to my room I searched and searched and I could not find my camera. Having a panic attack I realised I probably left it at the restaurant from the night before. Before I knew it I was on Accram’s motorbike and we were at the restaurant from the night before. Luckily my camera was there, another reason to make friends with restaurant and hotel owners, and to get a favourite place that you go to often! Accram drove me back and I was able to take pics of the new hotel. All in all I found a good buddy in Accram and was thankful to have someone looking out for me in this big, new, and amazing country. Thanks Accram!!
   

Life at Parmarth Niketan Ashram

    I checked into an ashram. Every time I think, say, or write, that first statement it makes me feel like I have checked into some sort of ‘facility’ where I need to be helped, or brought back to life in some way, shape, or form. This is not the case when you check in to an ashram. Lonely Planet defines ashram as “spiritual community, or retreat”. I don’t know what I was retreating from seeing as though I am already on vacation, but I have definitely enjoyed the “community” aspect of Parmarth Niketan. I also enjoy how they say Parmarth Niketan, Par-matt Nee-key-tan. It somehow rolls off the tongue of each and every Hindi speaker here.
    I’ve been staying at the ashram for a week and a half now. I checked in after three days at a guest house on the other, quieter, side of the river. I came to Parmarth Niketan for very logical reasons. Those being i) I wanted cheap, safe accommodation ii) I wanted a regular and consistent schedule for my day iii) I wanted free yoga, and iv) I was just curious.
    Once I was shown my room I was hooked. It was cute, clean, and bright. The guesthouse was very dark, dreary, and I just didn’t want to be there. When I arrived at the ashram I was immediately given a fresh towel, a roll of TP, and shown how the hot water for the shower worked. BONUS! There were two single beds in my room, which meant I got twice as many sheets, pillows, and blankets! A necessity in a cold and windy town, such as Rishikesh!
    My first lunch was followed by my first Kathak Dance Class! Yoga followed shortly after, then a fire ceremony at the water front with all of the sadhus (i.e. monks) from the ashram. Dinner is at 7pm. When I first arrived there was a meditation class following supper. This week the schedule changed and the second meditation class is in the afternoon, following yoga. After my first day of lunch, dance, and yoga I thought “I could get used to this”.
    Mornings, for me, start at 6am with an hour and a half yoga class. This is followed by a one hour meditation class, which I just started going to and you only meditate for thirty minutes out of the hour. Then morning chai. I stopped eating breakfast at the ashram after the first day. The breakfast is delicious but it is also spicy. Three spicy meals a day is not good for a girl whose constituion already has too much heat in it. After the first day I began going for morning porridge at either a local haunt called “The Office”, or at the restaurant back at my old guesthouse (they have coconut porridge, Tabitha you would LOVE it)!
    Morning for the sadhus in the ashram begin at 4:30am with morning prayers, a satsang at 5am, then yoga and meditation if they choose. I have set my alarm twice for the morning prayers and satsang and have failed on both accounts to actually get out of bed and attend. Tomorrow is my last morning at the ashram, we will see if I choose to sacrifice sleep and warmth and actually go.
    I will completely confess that I didn’t start going to the meditation classes until my second week. My reason being was that I knew my mind was already in overdrive and I did not want to suffer through an hour or so of me not being able to control my thoughts. Thus feeling frustrated and defeated. But I did go to the last of the evening meditations . It was longer than I thought; and hour and a half, which is brutal on the body. I did very well for the first hour, then my body became extraordinarily uncomfortable. I did like the meditation though. There were a few things that stuck out to me. For starters the focus point the instructor gave was your upper lip, just below the nose, where air passes with each and every breath. The teacher said that the brain exists here, it lives here and only here. If you do not pay attention to your breath, you are letting life slip by. Breath is life. It is the passing of life.
    He also reminded us that the mind will never stop and that is not  the point of meditation. The point of meditation is to “keep the mind sharp” he would say with much strength and certainty. What has stuck with me the strongest was the word “practise”. I kept thinking about yogis. They always refer to their “practice”, “their practice”. The practice is the foundation of yoga and being a yogi. I took this thought of practice and correlated it to the practice of life, or life as a practise. More so what do I practise in my life. What is my life practice? I wasn’t too thrilled with the responses of what my life practise is. Yes I have done some great things, been to amazing places, and know incredible people but my life practice, my daily practice I didn’t like so much. Being at the ashram has given me a chance to practice life differently. To start everyday with yoga and meditation, to have scheduled meals, afternoon dance class, and to be in my room getting ready for bed at a reasonable hour every night; they lock the front gates to the ashram at 9pm. It has afforded me time to read and write, do headstands, write out my intentions for the day, and reflect upon my day, my thoughts and feelings. I find the days go by quite quickly and I wonder how I would be able to fit all of the things I do at the ashram into a daily life, and practice, back in Canada. Pretty tricky with work, courses, friends, family, daily/weekly chores and responsibilities. I don’t know if I will be able to incorporate all of the things I practiced at the ashram into my life back in Canada, whenever I get back to Canada. However there is hope and, more importantly, inspiration for a life practice that suits and nourishes me.
    All in all I really enjoyed my time at the ashram. I met some fantastic people there, learned Kathak dance, nourished my body, mind, and soul. A worthy experience indeed and something I would try again.

Friendly Strangers- Mumbai

Leena Jain
   
    Taking the local train from the suburbs of Mumbai into the city was a little daunting for me. I was most definitely scared in my first experience. I had associated Indian trains with a brutal scene from Deepha Mehta’s film Earth. It was gruesome. No fear was needed as kind faces and smiles welcomed me at the station platform and into the women-only train cart. The ladies cart places me into mothers’ arms as smiles and plentiful and questions are abundant amongst the little girls who are learning and wanting to practice their English. Just about everyone notices you and is interested in you.  I know I am not lost when I am there, nor will I ever be. There are more than enough Aunti’s who will direct me and help me get to where I am going. It is superb.
     Taking the train from Mulund into Colaba is a most humbling experience. One such day I met a young girl, probably in her late teens,  on the local train from Mulund, a suburb of Mumbai, to the Central Train Station, or downtown Mumbai. With her mother and sisters and was so very friendly and inquisitive. Her mother found the way I dressed so different and strange. Leena invited me to her home before I go back to Canada. In fact it wasn’t an invitation but a demand. I have to go to her home before to head back to Canada. It would be an honour!

Shubha Shetkar


    We met at the Mulund platform. I noticed her looking at my feet. She was in fact looking at the Nepali prayer beads I had wrapped around my ankle. The only reason I had put it there was that I was told married Indian women wear anklets given to them by their husbands.If you wear anklets most locals will assume you are married. I thought if I followed suit it would keep Indian men at bay. How silly of me to think that Nepali prayer beads would suffice! Shubha told me that it was very odd for me to have the prayer beads around my ankles and that older, more conservative women may find it offensive. I also found out that you need to wear more than one anklet. Only wearing one can mean you are a prostitute! Also good information to have!
    Shubha made a seat for me on the train. She asked lots and lots and lots of questions. Because I was still very new to India I was still skeptical and cautious with what information I gave out. All the questions confused me and made me slightly suspicious. She asked if she could spend an hour with me walking around Colaba, the downtown part of Mumbai. She then called into work letting them know she would be coming in late because she had the opportunity to spend time with a woman from Canada. I actually heard her tell her co-worker on the phone about my anklets, and what I was wearing. At that moment I didn’t know how to not feel like an outsider.
    We arrived at the Central Train Station, or CST. You can literally hear a buzz of people moving through Mumbai Central Train Station. It is incredible and unimaginable! Everyone had said that India is “crazy”, “chaotic”, “people are everywhere”. I didn’t think that was true, or truly India, until I got to that train station.
    Shubha and I walked around the streets of Colaba. We went though the heritage district; an area I hadn‘t been through to date. She showed me colonial buildings built by the British and said all the buildings made of stone are colonial British and historical. All the buildings made from brick are modern and Indian.
    As I was capturing a photo of the very old, and colonial British train station Shubha picked up a Hindi-English dictionary for me. How incredibly thoughtful! She told me not to trust anyone in Mumbai and to learn some Hindi!
    After a while she was receiving numerous calls, I think from work. We parted ways and I thanked her for the time she spend with me, the heritage lesson, and the Hindi dictionary.

Down Under Retiree
    I had only been in Mumbai for a couple of days when I realized I wanted to get the hell out of there. Despite the fact that Mumbai is very modern, architecturally beautiful, and bustling with vibrancy I had had enough. It could have been the jet lag or something but I wanted to hightail it out of there.
    I planned on going north to Rajasthan. I wanted to see the blue city of Jodhpur, and hopefully the pink city of Jaipur. I planned on picking up a rikshaw from the central train station and taking it to the bus station to catch a bus to jodhpur. There was some speaking in Hindi amongst the rikshaw drivers then another rikshaw driver came over and told me to get in. I was suspicious immediately. Ultimately the rikshaw driver was going to try and take me on over an hours’ drive to a bus station to catch this bus to jodhpur. The drive to this particular bus station was going to cost me 3000 Rupees, or $60. A bit of a stretch in a country where you can get a meal for $1.50. I told him that was not okay and to take me to Colaba instead. This man argued with me and argued with me. But I fought back and reiterated my desire to go to Colaba. I also threatened to get out of the rikshaw and not give him any money if he didn’t take me to Colaba. Jet lag aside I was pissed and fierce with this driver. After much arguing he did in fact take me into Colaba, where I only gave him 50 rupees, a fair price as I had taken a rikshaw from Colaba to the train station the evening before and knew the cost.
    After I got out of the rikshaw, full of fury and steam I sat down on a stool, pulled out my Lonely Planet tearing through it to find out where in fact the bus station was located in Mumbai, and how I was going to get to Jodhpur.
    That is when I met Michele. She came up to me and asked “trying to get all the way through it”? She meant the huge Lonely Planet. “What?” I asked and then realized what she meant. I explained to her the situation I had just had with the rikshaw driver and how frustrated I was. She asked if I needed to find a hotel. I didn’t, what I needed was to get on the road to Jodhpur. After I took a minute I realized that a) it was already past 2pm b) I didn’t know where I was going or how to get there c) I was hot, tired, and frustrated. Perhaps it was best to check into a guesthouse, have a solid night’s sleep, and figure out a plan. Michele took me to the Salvation Army GuestHouse in Mumbai. I had seen it listed in the Lonely Planet. It was simple and basic and offered free breakfast with a night’s stay.
    After I checked in Michele and I grabbed some food at a local restaurant. She also showed me around the neighborhood and where I could get basic amenities; long distance phone calls, Starbucks, banks, etc. She also took me to a travel agent where I could book a bus ticket to Rajasthan. As it turned out there were no direct buses to Jodhpur, they all went through Udaipur. It was then that I learned a valuable travel lesson; make travel plans ahead of time and do your research.
    Michele; a retired woman traveling on her own in India for who knows how long, was my Mother and savior that day. I was very grateful to her. Thank you Michele! As it turned out we met up in Udaipur and she further Mothered me making sure I put on sunscreen and keeping tabs on me. Even when you are thousands upon thousands of kilometres from your Mother, you are never really far from home ;)

Dr.Yassin

    We met the very first evening I was in Mumbai. I was stuck in Colaba as I was staying with a couch surfer who was out for the evening. I had numerous hours to dick around Colaba waiting for an appropriate time to take the hour long train ride back to Mulund and the couch surfers house. All I wanted to do was sleep. I had been awake for over 24hours and just traveled to an entirely different continent, let alone a new country. I was not in the mood to wander around the streets of Colaba after dark. But I didn’t have much of a choice. I went into a café in Colaba and ordered an iced cappuccino. It was cold and caffeinated, sure to keep me awake! At the table next to me were two black men deep in conversation. I was surprised to see black men in India to be perfectly honest, which is why I took note of them. At one point my book-mark fell to the floor  and one of the men picked it up for me. At this point it became clear that he spoke fluent English. After some time polite exchanges were had  they asked for me to join their table. So I did!
    Dr. Yassin and his friend Khrioum lived here in Colaba. Dr.Yassin had been studying economics and just attained his pHD in the economics of Sudan, where he and his friend were originally from. We talked politics, and economics of Africa, and other countries throughout the world. I found what he had to say quite fascinating and educating as I do not know much about Sudan.
    As the evening wore on and I still had time on my hands Dr.Yassin took me to his favourite spot in the city; the waters edge. I remembered seeing a photograph of this spot at the beginning of my Lonely Planet. They had 18 highlights of India listed with an outstanding photo capturing the feature. The photo I had seen was of Mumbai; lit up at night along the waters’ edge. It looked enchanting and irresistible. Dr.Yassin told me that we were in the Queen’s Necklace. So called because it is a horseshoed harbour with each lamplight shimmering in the evening dew, and reflecting off the water. Stunning! Fireworks were going off everywhere as everyone geared up for Diwali. Grand hotels and palaces illuminated in the night. It was then that I felt alive and really and truly in India for my first time. Pretty incredible!







Sunday, December 16, 2012

One Month in India


    Wow! One month; already??? December 9th came and went like each and everyone of the other thirty-four days I have  been in India. That being said it did make me stop and think. The time had a feeling of oppositions; it seemed to be both a small and large amount of time. Small in that one month out of twenty-nine years is minimal, large in that one out of four months in India is significant. Very significant. In fact that means I have already experienced a quarter of my trip! A quarter!!!
    I chose to sit down and write about what I had experienced thus far in India to see if I was hitting my targets and having the Indian experience I truly wanted. In the past thirty-four days I have visited one of the main metropolises of India, Mumbai, and I wasn’t attacked, robbed, or hassled. I did have one fight with a rikshaw driver, but was proud to have stood my ground and show myself that I can be a ‘tough cookie’, if I so choose.
    I have toured around Udaipur; one of the most majestic cities in Rajasthan where former Majaranas lived in beautiful palaces. Pretty fantastic. Here is where I got to experience my very first Diwali! A special treat indeed. Every year my best friends’ family holds a Diwali party in Ontario. Every year her parents say to her “Do you know who would really enjoy this? Stephanie. I wish she were here to enjoy this”. Every year my best friend tells me that her parents say this to her, and I feel sad that I haven’t been able to experience Diwali myself. Well mission accomplished! Diwali was brighter, lighter, and far more lively that I ever dreamed possible. I loved the candles, fireworks, strings of electric lights, flower garlands, flower votives floating in the lake, the music, the food, the sweets in particular. I loved it all and was so thankful that I was able to experience it, first hand, in India. The only thing that was missing was my best friend and her family. Luv you Jazzy, Kavi, Harry, and Nicki!
    I learned how to milk cows. This may seem trivial or unimportant to some, or most. But I thought it was really cool. I grew up in the suburbs! There are no cows! The only cows are the ones we make of ourselves at family functions or holidays. Really, they are not in my reality. I drive by them when traveling to other cities, through rural areas. The fact that I was able to learn a new skill, with a new friend, Accram, and with a sacred animal of India, is pretty darn cool. I hope to someday have a farm. Not with cows, but with goats, so I can make goat milk cheese. But you have to start somewhere.
    Also while in India I have been able to revive my passion for social justice and connect with many people over the subject. This weekend I am heading to Delhi to see Dr.Shiva speak and meet some more people who are interested in similar themes and topics. Meeting Anoop and connecting with him over sustainability in India has really motivated me to make social justice part of my daily practice. It is something I have let go of a little bit too much over the past several years. Yes it always comes up in different ways, and I always have a mind for it, (i.e. I constantly critique, analyze, and mentally dialouge certain topics or issues as I was trained to do). But I feel motivated to do a little bit more and keep it as a practice, not just a once in a while occurrence.
    I experienced an ashram. Yes it is a bit stereotypical but I enjoyed it. I think there is value and importance in what ashrams have to offer, even if you are not Hindu. The ashram brought me back to a place of reflecting on my daily practices, and to what and where I put my daily energy. A very good reflection indeed.
    While in India I also received my very first Indian outfits. I picked out the material, got measured, and had them tailored. Amazing! Btw I have never had tailored clothes before. I liked the experience! My friend Elisa and I also did a photo shoot with our new clothes. A little awkward, but fun. All of the bad photos have already been deleted, of course. The photo shoot was also a good reminder to stay away from barfi and ladoo. I want to look beautiful and elegant in my new suits, not like the cows I mentioned earlier!
    Kathak dance. One of my life long dreams has been to learn Indian dance. I used to watch Bollywood movies, not for the plot, but for the exciting colour, energy, and dance! Confession time; I have also dreamed of performing Indian dance at my wedding. Well lets be specific, not at the ceremony, afterwards at the reception. I wanted a whole choreographed number to perform for my new husband, family, and friends. Whoops, surprise ruined! Perhaps this is just a secret desire to have my life miraculously turn into a Bollywood movie . ..  hhhmmmmm?!?!?!?!?!? Taking the Kathak dance classes has been a dream come true. I absolutely love it, except when I get dizzy from spinning around too many times! I feel soo strong, powerful, able, and confident when I dance. It is quite the feeling. The feeling gets better when my teachers, and classmates also mirror this energy back to me and tell me how good at it I am. After seven days of one hour classes I had a routine down, which was performed, in full dress, and recorded. Pretty fantastic. No I take that back; pretty supercalafragalistically FANTASTIC!!!
    All this in one month, and these are only the highlights! There are things I still struggle with in India, come on it is not all roses all the time. One such example are the flies. My step mother, originally from India, hates flies. She will do everything in her power to eradicate all flies within a half kilometre radius of her. Now I know why; they are everywhere, all the time, and they are disgusting. Flies land on the piles and piles of cow shit, which are all over the streets, then on you, or food, or  . ..  everything. It is gross, unpleasant, and super irritating.
    Another thing is not the toilets but the toilet seats. They do have squatters in India, not the biggest fan, but I got the knack of it when I was traveling in Southeast Asia. But the ‘English style’ toilets they have are like the ones you have in Canada but the toilet seats are different. The problem is twofold; 1) they are not the proper size for the toilet and 2) they are not fastened tightly. This basically means that every time you sit down on a toilet you fear for your life as your weight may not be equally distributed and you may slide one way or the other, hopefully not down into the toilet. One day my poor butt cheek actually got pinched between the seat and toilet. The toilet seat slided one way, then the opposite way thereby pinching my soft tushy in between the two. I was unimpressed!
    Lastly the men. The last time I was in a country where men ogled me all the time was Latin America, so it has been awhile. The worst is when groups of men are hanging out together, because they look, and chat, and make remarks, or whatever, as a group. It is intimidating on top of being gross and impolite. What bothers me more is that I’m pretty sure the attraction comes, solely, from  the colour of my skin.  Skin colour aside, I can’t stand the constant attention from men. From women as well, but only because I am a novelty, not because they are attracted to me. I am a constant spectacle no matter what I am wearing. People come up to me on a daily basis asking to have a picture of me, or to have their picture taken with me! Apparently I am a celebrity in India. I always say ‘no’ to the guys who ask to have my photo. If it is a couple or a family I don’t mind as much. Perhaps they find us Westerners attractive and beautiful much they same way I find beauty in all of the Indian women here. It could be the exotic, unique, or ‘different’  that we find alluring and appealing in contrast to what our norms are? Either way it takes getting used to!







    All in all my first month in India has been an absolute treat. I am thankful for all that I have experienced and look forward to what the next three months has to offer. Thank you India!

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Mama Ganga







    One of the things India is known best for is the holy Ganges River. Many Hindu pilgrims go to Varanasi, a city in northeast India, to wash away a lifetime of sins in the sacred waters or the River Ganges. Varanasi is an auspicious place to die. Since dieing there offers “moksha”, or liberation from the cycle of birth and death. Here people call the Ganges Mama Ganga, and pay the utmost respect to their Mama, on a daily basis.
    Here in Rishikesh the holy Ganges River begins as it descends down from the majestic Himalayas. The water, for the most part, appears clean, beautiful, and strong as it cuts through the city. Ghats line the river and there is daily worship, offering, and bathing in the River.
    Rishikesh is not known to be as spiritually auspicious as say Varanasi, however it is held to be the “Yoga Capital of the World”, with many ashrams, and a multiplicity of yoga and meditation classes. I believe I mentioned in an earlier blog about it being a New Age Centre. As Lonely Planet says “the exquisite setting on the fast-flowing Ganges, surrounded by forested hills, is conducive to meditation and mind expansion. Rishikesh has its own reputation.
    I knew that many Hindus bathe in Mama Ganga on a daily basis. Just yesterday I found out that it is believed that your negative karma will be dispelled, and washed away by dunking your head under the water of the Ganges twelve times. I learned this from a fellow traveler from Norway, Elsie. She was planning on leaving Rishikesh today to attend an Indian wedding in the North, but wanted to make this karmic change. We were discussing this over fruit porridge and chai at our favourite restaurant. I said to her, and another traveler that I had been to the main waterfall, Neer Garh, a few days earlier. This waterfall fed into the holy Ganges. If we were able to be back by 2pm, when my daily Kathak dance class was, I would take them there.
    Off the three of us went to shed our negative karma and start anew. As we traveled down the highway towards the waterfall we got stopped at a police checkpoint, which took quite some time. Although I was eager to get  on our way I was also just enjoying the time with these other female travelers; listening to and sharing our stories. The lady from Norway, Elsie, was 31 years old and was telling me about her experience turning 30. An event I will be coming upon in just 6 months. Every time someone asks how old I am I sigh, or let out a sound of exasperation when I have to tell them that I am turning 30. Despite the fact that many of my friends have already turned 30 (and survived), that most people turn thirty, and probably more than 50% of the population is over and above 30 it is still daunting to me! It was good to hear another woman’s perspective about entering into her thirties and what her experience was.
    Our taxi took us to the bottom of the waterfall, where he was going to wait for us to go and come back. That being said if we didn’t make it up in one hour he was going to charge us more. It would be impossible to make it up and back in one hour unless you ran, FYI! We paid our entrance fees and began the hike up! The views were absolutely incredible. You could see mountain after mountain, and Mama Ganga at the very bottom of the valley coursing through the lush green hills. Stunning.
    We made it to the top in fairly good time. Once there I remembered a similar experience in Indonesia. One of my best girl friends, Tabitha, and I had been volunteering for Hand’s On Disaster Relief in West Sumatra. On our days off we would go to Lake Manninjau, which was formed in an inactive volcano. Pretty spectacular! One of these days Tabitha, myself, and another volunteer, Stacy, were lucky enough to be guided up to a nearby waterfall by a local guide. Once up there we all went underneath the waterfall and felt its intense pressure and force coming down upon us. Afterwards we got photos taken of the three of us doing yoga postures underneath the falls. Good memory. Here I was again, traveling, at a waterfall, and with two other women, about to cleanse ourselves in the local, sacred water. How auspicious!
    We did it. The three of us waded into the pool underneath Neer Garh. We decided we would all go under in unison, it seemed appropriate. Although it took us sometime to figure out whether we wanted to go under head fist, or dunking our heads’ backwards. We went under. It wasn’t nearly as cold as I thought it would be. This coming from a Canadian who lives in the Rocky Mountains and who happens to LOVE cold bodies of water! I went in head first then did the remainder eleven plunges going backwards. If it is negative karma I was erasing it most likely happened in the past, and therefore behind me, right ?!?!?!?!
    After we all finished our twelve submersion's none of us wanted to leave the water. We were all enjoying it too much. I don’t know whether we felt healed, cleansed, or a karmic release but we were all quite content to hang out in the cool and holy water of the falls, which looked out upon the vast foothills of India. Who would want to leave??? But we eventually did; I had to get to my dance class after all.
    We made our way back down the hill where our driver was waiting, not for us, but for the 600 Rupees, plus an extra 100 for taking more than an hour. Back to Laxman Jula, and back to the ashram where I quickly changed and ran to dance class. I don’t know if our negative karma was erased. I don’t know if karma, whether negative or positive exists, or if any of the three of us had it accumulated? I do know that I really value the bonds created among female friends. I find my relationships with other women to be sacred and holy and I would not be the person I am today without them! If I can create any positive karma for the future I hope it is to always have strong, beautiful, talented, inspiring, tender, and caring women as my friends, companions, and sisters for the rest of my karmic life. Thanks Mama Ganga!

Shake it up Rishikesh






    Here I am in Rishikesh. The city where the holy Ganges, or Ganga, River commences its route in India. Located at the foothills of  the Himalayas, Rishikesh became know internationally during the 60’s when the Beatles stayed here and, it is thought, wrote most of The White Album. Despite having a rock n’ roll reputation, it is also know to be a yogic centre within India. I would say that reputation is most definitely upheld! You cannot walk 5 feet without coming upon a yoga studio, a new age bookstore, hearing a recording of “om nama shiva om nama shiva. Om nama shiva om nama shiva”, or see at least 50 different posters for ayurvedic, reiki, and meditation courses. It is incredible and shocking to be in such a place. All of the stereotypes about Western travelers going to India on a spiritual journey is suddenly too true! I am ashamed to be supporting the stereotype as I do yoga, am interested in ayurveda, and have a, small, collection of new age readings. To make things worse I checked into an ashram!!!
    Upon my arrival I stayed at a hotel on the opposite side of the river, which was a bit more quiet, green, and away from the hustle and bustle of the main town area. This worked out well as I had to acclimatize. Rishikesh is incredibly COLD! In the evening the cool air comes down from the Himalayas and creates a strong wind. You would think that being from Canada and living in the Rocky Mountains I would be able to withstand this weather. Not the case! In my defence if I had come directly to Rishikesh from Canada it would have been a breeze! But I didn’t. I spent approximately three weeks in Udaipur, Rajasthan which is much warmer than Rishikesh. In addition most buildings in India are NOT insulated like they are in Canada. I am very thankful I brought my jacket, vest, hat, mittens, scarves, long johns, and sweaters. I have needed them! My time spent at the hotel allowed for an introduction to the weather of the Himalayas. The first night I slept in practically everything I had packed with me for India. Hahahahha. My body was also a little more sensitive after a night on the train with barely any sleep, which was also quite cold. My first few days also allowed me to orient myself in Rishikesh and get a feel for everything including the great Ganges River, or Mama Ganga!
    Then I checked into an Ashram, Parmarth Niketan Ashram to be exact. I have no idea of the history of the ashram but it definitely holds a distinct reputation in town. It is located in the centre of town and hosts a huge statue of one of the Hindu Gods, right at the front of the Ganga River. They hold a Hindu ceremony at the statue, in fron of the river, every evening.
    I am actually really enjoying being at the ashram. My reasons for checking in were threefold; 1) to have 3 meals prepared for me daily 2) to get free yoga and meditation classes, this happens twice daily, and doesn’t include the morning satsang, or morning prayers, which I have yet to rise for. Both occur before 6am! Lastly, I wanted a bit of a routine for my day so I could spend my free time writing and reading and taking care of Stephy. As it turns out these were all good reasons except for the food. Every meal of the day is spicy! I like spicy food, but for someone who typically has too much heat in their system on a regular basis, this doesn’t help. Now I go for the dinner meal only and make due for the other meals.
    In addition the ashram holds traditional Indian dance classes every afternoon!!! Hello dream come true. Stephy + India + Dance Classes= DREAM COME TRUE !!! This is exactly how I feel every class. It was during my first dance class that it suddenly dawned on me that I was living a dream. I have always loved to dance, always loved Indian dance and music, always wanted to go to India, and always wanted to learn Indian dance. There I was in the Yoga Hall, stomping on a cold marble floor when the reality hit me that I was, in fact, living a dream of mine. Amazingly profound!
    I spend my days going to yoga and dance class. Saying that I will go to the meditation but never making it. Chatting with fellow travellers and eating spicy dahl, and vegetable subji. I curl up at night in my lovely ashram room. This is not sarcasm as I really do like it. It is perfectly sized, has wonderful lighting, my own bathroom and a couch to sit and read on. I curl up with three blankets on my bed, and a hat on my head and I read, or write, say my prayers, then say goodnight!

Fairytale; fare thee well ;)







     As my time in Udaipur drew to a close I became very thankful for change. Despite the fact that Udaipur is stunningly beautiful, I was making friends, and milking cows , they were becoming my friends too, I knew I needed to get out. Some of my irritants were the market vendors who consistently called out to me everyday “look here Madam, how are you today, come inside my shop, where are you from?” You would think this last question was innocent enough but I learned that the vendors want to know where you are from so they know how to sell to you. Every country has a different code and etiquette in regards to sales. Some people shy away very easy and need to be given space, some people need lots of information and details about what they are buying. All these questions come down to the basic fact that you are an object; an item to be used solely for your tourist dollars. Despite the fact that I ignored these vendors EVERYDAY for the 16 days I stayed in Udaipur, they still tried! It became increasingly exhausting.
    Another frustration was the lack of places and spaces to walk. Udaipur is a city. With this city are just congested, busy, dirty streets, full of shops! I missed the green, or white, streets and paths of Canmore where I was free to meander as I pleased with no one, or no thing to bother me. I needed some peace.
    Lastly it was becoming evident that some hearts were on the line. I had the feeling that a couple of my male friends in town enjoyed my company a little too much and wanted more than friendship! With all these things, and needs, in mind I decided to pack up, leave the cows, and dogs, I mean guys (hahaha), behind, and head northeast.
    I will say that my send off was incredible. My favorite café in town, Jheel’s Restaurant, which had the best coffee and lots of flavored variations, employed a lovely man named Rhuba. For whatever reason Rhuba took a shine to me. I think I reminded him of a family member. Her treated me like a daughter more than anything else. Whenever I would arrive at the café, before I could even tell him my order I would have a cup of chai sitting in front of me piping hot! At no expense, of course! He would also pass me pakoras here and there. A very sweet man whose company I really enjoyed. My last full day in town Rhuba had told me to come to the restaurant for dinner. He said that he was preparing a very special meal for a dinner party, so I should come and reap the benefits of what he was preparing. That same day I had been chatting with a fellow traveler from Israel. He had decided to join me at Jheel’s for dinner that evening. What an incredible evening! From the food, to the fireworks, to the conversation, and Rhuba’s amazing presence it was an absolute delight. For a mere $6 we dined like kings and queens. We had a four course meal with an incredible dessert to finish! As India is in a continual state of celebration there were of course fireworks going off everywhere, as well as candle/flower offerings floating in the lake (enchanting), and a wedding processing booming through the streets. We are now in the high wedding season, so there is at least one every night! My Israeli friend and I chatted about life and everything within it. It was my second favourite night in Udaipur. My first was my first evening there which was Diwali ;)
    The next day I went back to Jheel’s to say goodbye to Rhuba. He was so sad to hear that I was leaving. He grabbed me and gave me the biggest hug and told me that I was the best visitor/tourist he had had all year. So incredibly sweet. I think we had a couple of goodbye’s in fact, and at each one Rhuba grabbed me and would again give me the biggest hug I had ever had. Just lovely.
    There were more goodbyes to behold as I had to say “sayonara” to my friends at the Arravali Guesthouse where I was staying and milking cows. Before catching my train to Delhi, Accrams’ sister had prepared a meal of chicken, rice, and a sweet that was made into ladoo. He called me out on to the balcony where he had everything laid out, including a table cloth on the table. I filled up on delicious, homemade Indian food before my long train ride to Delhi. Even more; he packed up all the leftovers so I had food for the train. He also arranged for a ride to the train station, my good friend Jamail, who had initially brought me to this wonderful guesthouse. Jamail had been hired that day by some tourists for sightseeing. But he took an hour out just to take me to the train station. When we got to the train station Jamail, like always, got two cups of chai for us to share together. He also gave me his contact information and told me to call if ANYTHING went wrong in Delhi. He most definitely became my Mother in this instant as he gave me specific directions for the hereafter; don’t trust ANYBODY, be careful with your bags on the train. At night people who get on from different stops will pick out of your bags or just take your bags. He told me “put your backpack under your head for sleeping and hook your legs or arms into your other backpack”. He also called his friend in Delhi to find out which bus station I had to go to get my bus to Rishikesh. He also took me right onto the train, found my berth, and got me water and a treat for the ride. Amazing. I couldn’t have been better looked after if it was my own family. I was so touched and grateful to have come to Udaipur and met all these wonderfully giving and thoughtful people. Incredible!
    To finish the day off there was a young guy in the same berth as myself. He spoke English. We made polite conversation and then I asked if he wanted to play a card game to kill time. I taught him Crazy 8’s, which was an incredible success! His friend, Krishna, everyone in India is named Krishna, got in on the game too. His friend didn’t have great English but he picked up the game very fast! The two of them taught me a little more Hindi, as we all needed to be on the same page with the changing suits. Pan (hearts), eeat (diamonds), tas (spades), and chir (clubs). At one point the man sharing my berth cheated by telling Krishna the incorrect name of the suit, as to suit him and NOT Krishna! Sneaky! 
    All in all amazing fare-thee-well to the fairytale city of Udaipur. An enchanting place full of palaces built for Maharanas, stunning buildings mirroring architecture of Venice, and enough charm to make you believe you are living a fairytale. Thanks Udaipur; amazing time!

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Irregular regularities

    One of my favorite things so far is both the routine and spontaneity of each day. I wake every morning to two things: 1) the Muslim call to prayer, which I promptly fall back to sleep after, and 2) the rising sun. Most days I get up with the sun, do some meditation and yoga, then figure out my day.
    In the morning I always hear the neighbors and their little baby crying crying crying. I can tell they have more than one child as the baby’s cry is always whinny, sounding like it is being tortured by an older sibling who needs some attention. I also hear a man calling out in the streets selling all sorts of vegetables. I can’t understand Hindi, but Accram told me he was saying “potatoes, onions, ginger”.
    Accram, the manager of the hotel is up early every morning, usually at 5:30am for the call to prayer. But heads to the new property where in the basement there are several cows that need to be milked twice daily.
    As you walk down the streets in the morning most of the shops have not yet opened and I enjoy the quiet. Once the day has begun men line the streets outside their shop constantly badgering me to come inside and have a look. It is the most infuriating daily experience as you can NEVER move through the streets unnoticed. No matter what you do; ignoring, pretending not to hear, smiling politely, nodding politely, walking swiftly, giving succinct responses, they still holler at me and try and get me to come inside their shop and buy whatever it is they are selling. It is exhausting!
    One particularly grumpy day I had again ignored an invite for chai with one of the shop owners. After the refusal I caught myself in my grumpy state and wondered what it was about. Most of it was still adjusting to a new climate, time zone, culture, ‘a whole new world‘, not to quote Aladdin or anything. On my return the same man saw me and said “do you have time for chai now”? I thought to myself “I do”. So I sat down with . . . I cant remember his name, and had a cup of chai on the porch of his shop. It was actually enjoyable. Out of many things we talked about I remembered this “ if you are too sweet people will eat you up. If you are too sour, people throw you away”. I like the phrase and decided to keep reminding myself of this when a) I am too sweet that people take advantage of me and b) when I am sour and just need to touch base with what is bothering me ;)
    One of my other daily routines is watching the dozens upon dozens of hawks that sail about in and around my hotel. I watch them fly. I watch them perch on a roof top. I watch them watching all that is around them. They are so graceful and beautiful. I have already taken a million pictures of them with my super new and fantastic camera J I also watch all of the people that live in the buildings around me. Sometimes they are painting a wall, sometimes washing clothes, sometimes a young boy running along the edge of a roof top!! Yes I am a creeper, even in India, Hahahahha J Someday the little kids see me and yell out “halloooo”! It is adorable!
    In the evening I usually pop into the brother hotel/restaurant and see some of my friends there. Last evening I met a Canadian woman who has been traveling for 5 months. She started in Greece, went to Turkey, Lithuania, Tanzania, Ghana, Nepal, and is now finishing her journey in India. Back home she works with autistic children. Cool connection. She reminded me of Tabitha.
    When the sun goes down I retire to my hotel room. The other night as I was brushing my teeth I could hear some drumming in the distance. It grew louder and louder. It was getting closer and closer. To the point where I knew it had to be just down below the hotel. I came out of my room to the balcony and sure enough there was a group drumming away in the night. It was so incredible, so powerful. I love drums. Their intensity and beat grabs a part of me and I am rendered helpless to its rhythm. The drumming was in celebration of the Muslim holiday Mohorum. Who knew? Not me! But I enjoyed it just the same. The past two nights now the group has come through the streets drumming. It sounds fabulous !
    As dusk hit’s the Lake Palace hotel lights the torches bordering the beautiful Taj Hotel. We have a spectacular view from the roof top patio at my hotel. The sun goes down behind the mountains and shortly after you can again hear the call to prayer echoing throughout the neighborhood. Another day has passed in beautiful Udaipur, with its beautiful people, and their daily routines. It is a beautiful life.


Chocolate, banana, peanut butter pudding


    One of the amazing things about traveling is the people you get to meet. Particularly in India it is easy to meet people. As a white woman I most definitely stand out in a crowd. If not only due to the different dress and style I have, but also the fact that every local Indian’s head will turn towards you and watch you at any given moment. Anywho, lots of people, and always meeting people!
    One morning I decided to venture out and away from my usual breakfast haunts and try somewhere new. I had seen a French bakery/café on the other side of the lake and wanted to go and get a proper coffee this one morning. When I arrived all of the tables were occupied. I perused the menu as I waited for a table.  One of the men working there came over and suggested that I have a seat in the back, courtyard area. He led me there and one seat was available at a table, where a woman was sitting having her breakfast. I had wanted to a seat in the front, by myself. I hummed over it a little, went back to the front to check to see if anyone had vacated their table, they hadn’t. So I went back to the courtyard and asked if I could share the table with the young woman that was sitting there. Best decision ever!!!
    The young lady’s name was Autumn and she was from Israel. Apparently many young Israeli’s travel to India after high school and after their time in the army. We sat together, had cappuccino, talked about Canada, Israel, the army, tree planting; life in general. It was fabulous. The most remarkable thing about our conversation was how open and candid it was. Because we were in India, because we were perfect strangers, and because there were absolutely no pretenses, false or otherwise we were able to have an incredibly genuine and enriching conversation. So amazing!
    One thing I learned about myself from our conversation that morning, well actually two things; 1) how much I absolutely LOVE Canada, and 2) how much I love tree planting. I could have gushed about those two topics all day long.
    Breakfast with Autumn was not only delightful but so enjoyable that we decided to meet again, the next day for coffee. Even though we only had a few days together morning coffee became a bit of a ritual. Every morning around 10am we would meet and have fantastic conversation and just share about life. I think it is safe to say that we just adore each other. It was definitely the highlight of my day, even though it rivaled milking the cows ;)
    On Saturday we met at a new café, Jheel’s, which Autumn raved about. it’s a good place to rave about. Not only do they have proper espresso’s, Americano’s, and lattes, but they have specialty coffees as well, such as Hazelnut or caramel flavored coffee, and chocolate bar shakes!!! Yes, you read it correctly! I haven’t had the gumption to order a chocolate bar shake just yet, but I did try a sip of Autumn’s toblerone shake; delicious J On top of Jheel’s fabulous coffees and shakes, it is also a rooftop restaurant/café, so you get a beautiful view of the city. What more is that now that I am a regular the main server, Rhuba, brings me free chai after free chai! Yesterday he even passed me a small plate of onion baji’s, Mmmmmm J To top it all off Rhuba, a very sweet man, has the most bad-ass mustache I have seen. Pretty darn sweet [ not to make anyone jealous or threatened ;)]
    Saturday was Autumn’s last day in Udaipur so we made a day of it. After coffee and breakfast we went on a boat tour around Lake Pichola; the main lake that all the hotels and tourism is based around. It was a nice afternoon activity. We also did some local shopping, I bought myself a nice, new blouse, for very cheap.
    As we couldn’t bear saying our goodbye’s then Autumn and I decided to meet up at my favorite restaurant Millets of Mewar for a last supper. That evening over chocolate, banana, and peanut butter pudding we had our last moments together. It was hilarious how sentimental we were over a three day friendship, ha ha ha ha J We are hoping to connect during December, when we are both in Goa.
    Thought it was important to mention a) how nice it is to step outside of our comfort zones b) venture out to visit and try new places and c) how great new friends and connections are. Thanks Autumn :D

Social Justice alive and well :)

    Life takes many twists and turns. Some you anticipate, some you do not! For example; I anticipated going to University and obtaining an undergraduate degree. I did not anticipate studying International and Comparative Studies, traveling to Guatemala, Honduras, and Nicaragua, learning about the lack of rights, and human rights abuses in these countries. I didn’t expect to wind up volunteering for a summer with L’Arche, an organizational which supports people with developmental disabilities and then making that into a career/job for almost five years. Lastly I did expect to someday go to India however I did not anticipate coming here, to the city of Udaipur, and falling right into niche of how I want my passions, interests, and hopes and dreams to continue being an integral part of my life.
    I will explain. I believe I mentioned in some earlier posts about a restaurant here in town called Millets of Mewar, or as I am now calling them M.O.M. My first attraction to the restaurant was the gluten-free options they advertised. My second attraction was that they offered mineral water bottle refills. A great option as it costs me less, but also reduces waste of plastic water bottles. My third attraction was the sustainable walks they do in town. Showcasing the reuse of materials and local resources. Very different from the mainstream tourist industry of bedazzled shoulder bags, carved elephants, and other artisan items. In speaking with the owners of  M.O.M they also promote biodiversity, using alternate grains such as Millet and Amaranth. Not only wheat and rice, although they use these grains in their restaurant as well.
    I regularly frequent this restaurant as not only do they promote so many different facets of social justice, but they also have delicious food. One evening I was there early; journaling before my friend was to arrive. One of the co-owners, Anoop (the name of a very good friend of mine in Ontario), approached me for some feedback about the restaurant. I gave him my thoughts and opinions about the things I liked about the restaurant. I started blathering on about my undergrad and some of the things I studied. I mentioned ‘food politics’ and the importance of bio-diversity. I also mentioned Dr.Vandana Shiva. I knew she was from India and quite an active and prominent player in terms of food politics, bio-diversity, and making food accessible to all the mouths in India. Anoop asked me “do you want to meet her?” I sat there immobile, then questioned “what?” Anoop responded “Dr.Shive has been working with us and our efforts here in the restaurant, and around the city. She is speaking in Delhi on the 15th and 16th of December. Would you like to come and meet her?” Still stunned, but a huge grin beginning to form across my face. In face I think my face become solely a smile. Eyes, nose, cheeks, and forehead vanished as my smile took over it all! I finally stuttered out “uhhhh ya!!!!!” Anoop quickly sent me an email with the dates and his contact information. Fabulous. I think I was beaming for the rest of the evening.
    There have been many times that I have felt that I wasted my time in my undergrad. Not so much that the information I learned isn’t valuable or relative. But that I didn’t take that information and use it in terms of a career. I have struggled with being a care-giver after my undergrad. Thinking that I should be doing something more with myself, with my gifts, my talents, my knowledge, etc. I was constantly going back and forth about what it all meant and whether or not it was important. Also weighing out the value in terms of me, the individual, but also what service I am offering the world/ human kind in a larger sense. When I would read Henry Nouwen, or Jean Vanier, I would think about what I am contributing in a larger sense and remind myself that this work was just as important as any paper I could be writing while doing my Masters degree, or any actions I could be taking working for a non-profit. It was definitely a struggle.
    About three and a half years ago my dear friend and one of my role models passed away. She was heavily involved in Social justice and, it seemed, that she lived it as part of her everyday life. In her home, in her work, in her studies, in her community. In many ways she was the epitome of social justice. After she passed  I remember feeling that I couldn’t let the social justice part of me die. I had to keep active in it and keep it relevant. At the time I was living in Vancouver, I was working as a care-giver for people with disabilities, although for a private company, not with L’Arche, which was my first love.  Besides this and choosing to ride my bike and sky train, as opposed to having a car, I wasn’t doing much else in terms of social justice. I was living a fairly simple life in the mountains, near the ocean, in B.C. I was trying to live ‘the dream’ but really wasn’t doing a very good job of it. With my friends’ death it became clear that I wasn’t doing all that I could be doing, but I wasn’t quite sure what it was that I wanted to be doing, or how to go about doing it.
    Fast forward three and a half years later and all of a sudden I can see that I am still living that social justice life. No, it doesn’t look like how I thought it would look. In my mind it was supposed to look like me sitting at a desk, working for a non-profit, helping people, that don’t have a voice, or power, or acknowledgement in their lives. But now I see that my life of social justice is choosing to buy local, fair trade, organic. It is my choice to be a care-giver to people with mental or physical disabilities. It is my choice to spend my summer planting trees in the cut blocks of Alberta’s forestry industry, or in Canada’s tar sands. It is in my choice to go back to school for acupuncture, and bring that medicine to those who cannot afford it or do not have access to it. It is in my choice to keep reading, learning, and finding alternatives in everyday life.  To keep living that dream, the social justice dream, and, not to sound too corny, to make that the reality.

Homesick Headache

Homesick; me????? It can’t be possible. But it is true. I think I didn’t understand the meaning of ‘homesick’ until yesterday afternoon. I always thought people who get homesick are well . .. babies. I thought they were scared or fearful individuals who couldn’t cope with change, didn’t like diversity or difference, and just missed their mommies. I can now say that this isn’t true, and I miss my Daddy. Hahahahha!
    What I have now come to understand as ‘homesick’ is not so much that you want to leave and go home immediately, because I don’t. Its just a deep longing for a very specific type of love that you have felt.
    India is beautiful, magical, majestic even. Everyday amazing, coincidental things just happen. You meet someone new, or discover a new area of town that had just the thing you were looking for. Or you see a new place that, if possible, tops your charts of the most beautiful thing you have ever seen. It is incredible and you are constantly amazed!  The newness is so exciting and exhilarating. But at the end of the day, when you come back to your hotel room and you look around. You don’t see anyone you recognize. There is no one there to greet you. No one there to give you a big hug. No one for you to share your day with. Its still just you and India.
    I think the phrase “no man is an island” is entirely apt here and now! In the past when I travelled I NEVER got home sick. I barely even missed home. I was so happy to be away from Canada, doing my own thing, experiencing the world, seeing new sights, faces, and places. It was great. I felt more alive and happy than I ever did in Canada. The thought of going back to Canada was draining for me. I never wanted to return back to the motherland. Somehow the difference I was experiencing abroad fed me more than anything else. You can understand my confusion now, with a) naming ‘homesick’ to myself and b) figuring out how to process and cope with it. It is very unfamiliar and uncomfortable to some extent. Its like I don’t recognize or know this feeling and in turn, this part of me.
    It made me think about my first day of school. Your parents take you there, they make sure you know who your teacher is, and that she is aware of who you are and that she needs to take care of you. You are in a mix of hundreds of other newbies to school. It is crazy and noisy and chaotic. The bell rings and your parents say their goodbye, let go of you hand and leave you alone. Alone in this new place, with these new people, in this new and unfamiliar place. For a second you panic “oh no, they left me. They really left me. What am I going to do?” For that brief second or two you feel so helpless and experience a sense of deep dread. After those moments of worry and fear another little person, in your same predicament, walks over to you, smiles, and asks if your teacher is the same as theirs. You nod, and they reach over and grab your hand. Now you have a buddy and now you can get through all of the newness, all of the difference, all of the change.
    I think the feeling of homesick comes and goes when you are travelling as sometimes you have people who reach out and grab your hand and sometimes you have to wait until you are shuffled into your classroom, take your seat, and wait to meet some new friends at recess ;)

Saturday, November 24, 2012

Milk Maiden


    So I have started milking cows! I cannot say that when I left for four months to India that I knew I would be milking cows, but I am! I have become friends with the manager of the hotel that I am staying at. His family owns that hotel, another hotel down the road, and a more upper (utter) crust hotel that they have been working on for ten years! In the basement of the more upper crust hotel they keep cows. Apparently Accrams’ father likes the cows. So they keep them around. One day, as Accram and I were chatting he mentioned the cows and asked me if I would want to go milk them. I excitedly agreed and we arranged that I would milk them the following day at 5pm! Woo hoo!
    The next day at 5pm I was ready to go! I went into the basement of the hotel. I must admit I was quite intimidated. All of a sudden it was me, alone, with the cows. Accram was meeting me there shortly. I barely stepped foot into the basement area. I stood there, by myself, and said “hello cows. I am Stephanie”. They didn’t seem too bothered or interested in me. Just kept about their business; chewing their cud, eating grass. A few minutes went by and I grew a little concerned. Not knowing what to do, what to say, where to step, or not step. Avoid the cow dung ;) Soon enough Accram showed up with two metal pails, ready to show me the ropes!
    First he cleans the utters with water. He made mention that Hindus do not do this. They just milk the cows right away. Accram found this point humorous; the difference between Hindus and Muslims. After the utters are clean, then we can milk. Just for the record I have been doing this for at least five days now, and I am still getting the hang of it! it’s a little tricky. My first time was very uncomfortable and I felt very awkward. Extremely awkward. The first cow, the brown one, I tried to milk doesn’t really like me. Accram says she thinks I am a doctor, past trauma I assume, so she keeps her distance and is shy. This makes it difficult for me to attempt to milk her as she moves around a lot! So I decided to step back and just observe. Accram finished with the brown cow. Then we let the littlest of the calves, I want to call her Betsy, feed from her Mom.
    Then we move on to the older, white cow, who I am now calling Lavender. She recently gave birth to a little calf who is blind. The blind calf is about two and a half months old. The poor thing is still so helpless. She tried to move around and constantly stumbles. I do mean constantly. Hopefully her sense of smell kicks in and he learns to cautiously take steps. The white cow is patient and calm. I tried to milk her. I did terribly! I fumbled, much like the little blind calf, I couldn’t get any milk to come out. When I did my direction was off. Accram showed me how to hold my hand. Still couldn’t get it. I stood back and watched. Accram makes it look so easy. He uses both hands, not one like me, milks the cow, fills up the bucket and is on to the next one!
    The last cow, the black one, has her calf feed a little bit first. I don’t know if it stimulates the milk to drop down, or what, but she feeds first. Then Accram cleans the utters, then milks her. To date I have not cleaned the utters, and I am fine with that. The black cow is very difficult to milk. Even Accram thinks so. I believe he has tendonitis in his hands from milking this one particular cow. On the one hand the black cow is easier to milk because her utters are larger. However, I don’t know if there is more muscle, or tissue, but she is extremely difficult to milk. It takes a lot more pressure and muscle strength from me to milk her. My forearm gets tired soo quickly. Clearly I need to develop this muscle group!
    Everyday I go and try again. I learn a little bit more and bond with the cows. Accram laughs and laughs at me. I must look so awkward, or like I am trying to hard, which I probably am. Ha ha ha! I practice for awhile. Then sit back and watch. Then I practise again until my muscles gets tired. Then sit back and watch again.
    My favourite part of the experience is spending time with the little calves. They are awfully cute. The little one is very jumpy. Whenever I motion forward to pet her she jumps back. Lately she has gotten more comfortable with me and moves towards me. I let her smell my hand, she often licks my clothes. I’m not the biggest fan of calf slobber, but whatev’s?!?!?! I practise my Hindi with them “op ka nom ka hey?” What is your name, I say to the little one. It just licks my pant leg and waits to feed.
    Yesterday, the routine shifted. Accram was to milk the cows at 7am, not 5pm. He rotates this responsibility with his brother Hussein. I set my alarm for 7ish. Got myself together and made my way down to the makeshift barn. To my surprise there were two very elderly Indians there. A couple, I presume. They arrive there every morning to gather all the cow dung, which the woman makes into cow patties. The man lifts the, very heavy, bowl of already prepared cow patties, walks them over outside of the barn and sets them out into the sun to dry.  They do this for the better part of an hour. The woman keeps perfect balance squatting the whole time she makes these patties. She mixes the dung with a bit of broken up straw and debris. It kinda looks like dough, but entirely inedible. This couple must be into their 90’s. It looks like the frail hubby uses all of his strength and energy to lift the bowl up and onto his head before he walks it a few feet over into the sunshine. Its remarkable. I wonder how long they have been doing this??? They use the dried cow patties as fuel for a fire.
    I have names all of the cows now. The little one I call Bobby or Billy. I really wanted to call him Betsy, but found out she was a he. So Billy or Bobby it is. Maybe Bilby, or Bobly. Bobly sounds more appropriate as the little one is so jumpy and frolics all the timeJ Maybe even Bilbo, Bilbo baggins?? This calf could be a Hobbitt??? The next oldest is the blind one, who my friend Michele said I should call Stevie, because he is blind. So Stevie it is!!! He is also a he, so it makes sense. The eldest of the calves I wanted to call Gerard. But found out he was a she so now it is Geraldine. I am still thinking of names for the other two cows. One is quite shy, she is the one that is scared of me, thinks that I am a doctor. Then there is the one with the tough utters. Any suggestions??? Hahahahahhahaha J
    This morning, half asleep, I was doing much better. Definitely getting the hang of it! I am enjoying my time learning how to  milk the cows, spending time with the calves, practising my Hindi, and having Accram laugh at me. Life is good !!!

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Call to Prayer

In my opinion India is a foundational place of religion much like Israel. Foundations were laid here in India for a multiplicity of religions; Hinduism, Sikhism, Jainism, and to an extent Islam. Well maybe India isn’t the foundational place for Islam but it definitely thrives here and has an extensive history.
    The ‘call to prayer’ occurs five times a day. Starting at 5:30am and commencing at 8:15pm. I am woken up every morning at 5:30am to the first call to prayer. There are two Mosques in this neighbourhood and I usually hear the one closest to my window. A man that works for the Mosque comes on a P.A system and calls or sings out calling all Muslims to the Mosque for morning prayer. Not all Muslims answer, and not all Muslims go to the Mosque at this time. Nonetheless the call to prayer happens everyday without fail and it is part of the norm here in India.
    Five times a day. Five times a day there is a reminder or focus of faith and religion. I can barely brush my teeth twice a day and that is a matter of hygiene! It gives one something to think about though. How many times a day do we stop and think about the most important thing/s in our lives??? How many times a day are we encouraged to check ourselves out of the daily routine, the daily grind, and remember what we are doing . . .  everything for??
    I understand, and support, the fact that not everyone has or needs a religion. However I do feel that we all hold certain things very dear to our hearts. For me the most important things are family, friends, health, laughter, love, happiness, nature, and a good cup of coffee J If, in my everyday life, I stopped five times a day to remember, reflect, and just sit with how important those things are to me, how would my life be different? Would my life be different? Would I actually stop and feel the meaning of those things? Would I stop and solely think about the importance of those things? Would I stop and practice the importance of those things, perhaps by writing an email, going for a walk in the woods, making a phone call, or popping in to see a friend I haven‘t connected with for awhile? I am not sure. Being in India, many many miles away from some of those very important things definitely makes me think about them much more often. As well as feeling the absence/distance of them more strongly. It also makes me practise the importance of them as well as I do not want to take any of those things for granted. Family and friends aside I have only been away for twelve days and I am already in withdraw and dearly missing my beloved Rocky Mountains.
    I do not know much about Allah, or Mohammed, or the Muslim religion in general, but I do appreciate their daily reminder to come back to the things that are important. For them, religion, and God, are important. So much so that they are called to it multiple times a day.
    I think I will take a page from Islam and the call to prayer and attempt to be called back to the things that are most important to me at least five times daily!


*** Last evening I had a very poor nights' sleep. I had many nightmares, which made me restless, and did not provide a restful sleep. This morning's 5:30am call to prayer was not only very unwelcome but exceptionally loud and disturbing. I guess we can't be humble, graceful, and full of gratitude everyday :S

A Temple, a Palace, and a ladoo

    I just had the BEST ladoo and samosa of my life!!! Lets review the day: I met up with a travelling companion to have some breakfast. I chose a restaurant in the neighbourhood which specialized in local, organic, and healthy meals. This included vegan and gluten free options, great for me. In speaking with the part-owner it is his aim to provide sustainable options to tourists. For example millet. A grain full of nutrition, not mono cropped, and which uses a fraction of the water rice and wheat do! Incredible! Hence the title of the restaurant Millets of Mewar. I had an excellent ladoo here the day before with raisins . .. Mmmmmm.
    After this it was off the Jagdish temple, which was beautiful. The architecture INCREDIBLE!! When we left the temple we were approached by a lady and her 12 year old daughter. They invited us to their humble home for a cup of chai. The daughter knew a little English and the Mother much more. I must admit as we walked to their home I became increasingly more suspicious as there was no one on the streets leading up to their home, and we seemed to be getting further and further from anything recognizable. It turned out well enough. We were invited into their one bedroom home where the four of them sleep at night. The mother was very keen on educating her children; a daughter and a son. She had a notebook in which travellers write down messages for the kids to practice reading. In addition to having a full time job this mother also sold puppets from their home. Her goal was to send both her kids to the university in London, England. Her daughter to be a doctor and her son in central intelligence. The American CIA. Amazing goals!
    We left there after a lovely dinner invitation to go to the City Palace. One of the main tourist attractions in the area. It was insanely crowded. For the 10 days after Diwali most Indians go on vacation around the country, which means everywhere is CROWDED. The entrance fee was more than I had anticipated and again there was a substantial fee to bring my camera in. I thought I could get away without paying the camera fee, so I put my camera in my side bag and hoped no one would notice.
    Once inside the line-ups were HUGE! People were buzzing about everywhere. It was early afternoon so it was hot and sticky. There were also metal detectors and a bag search before you entered the palace proper. So I turned around and left. I figured an afternoon nap, some water, and shade would do me far better than sightseeing at the present moment.
    I went back a few hours later and to be perfectly honest the City Palace really wasn’t that great. It looks a lot better from the outside. Even though it was close to close the lines were still very long, it was still hot and sticky, and people were pushy! I zipped through the entire palace in about 30 minutes. The audio tour is an hour and a half! Hahahahha, clearly this wasn’t of great interest to me. I walked back to my side of town; over the bridge. I stopped into Millets of Mewar and filled up my water bottle for 5 Rupees as opposed to buying a new bottle for 15 or 20. Then sauntered down a newly discovered road to get some fruit. It was here that I stumbled upon the most delicious looking samosas! So I caved and bought . . . Two. I had one there and brought one back to my hotel with me. I also tried a piece of their barfi, which I wasn’t too impressed with, being a barfi connoisseur and all ;) As I went to pay the owner said “ladoo“, and quickly went into his display to get me a ladoo. Oh my goodness!!! Absolutely INCREDIBLE! It was denser than the ones I am used to. But the flavour was supreme! I could have eaten many more, but I stopped myself. Oh man!!! If I could make ladoo that delicious everyday it would all be over!!!
    If life couldn’t get any better I went and bought some fresh almonds, pistachios and dried figs. Amazing I am really liking and my neighbourhood, and getting to know it very well J