Bruise

    Bruise sits in the Ministry of Defence, Kabul, waiting to go for coffee with his friend Patrick. Bruise and Patrick became friends when Bruise wrote a response to the American soldiers that were killed in Afghanistan. Despite the fact that Bruise is Afghani, he was deeply saddened by this constantly occurring tragedy and expressed his sympathies in an article that was published in the London Free Press, via Patrick. 
    I met Bruise at our guest house in Arambol. I actually met him through his friend Abass. I was chatting on the phone outside of our room one night when Abass said ‘hello’ and suggested that I join him and his friend for drinks. I didn’t run into Abass until the next day when I joined him and Bruise for breakfast. Both of them are from Afghanistan, Abass from the south and Bruise from the north. We chatted for awhile and made formalities.
    Later in the day I went to use the wi-fi at a place in the market but no connection was available. Instead I went to a café to write in my journal and have an avocado shake. While I was sitting on the beach enjoying my shake Bruise came walking by looking for a friend. I invited him to join me at the table, which he did. Conversation took off right away. I learned that Bruise worked for Asia Foundation in Kabul, he had lost his brother from the conflict in Afghanistan, and that he was a big fan of my favourite poet Rumi. We spoke about the war in Afghanistan and the American presence. Bruise definitely wears the weight of his country on his shoulders, you can see it in his posture. The pain of losing his brother you can see in his eyes.  I don’t think I could ever get over losing a sibling, let alone losing a sibling from a horrific circumstance like war or conflict in my homeland. I have never grown up in a conflict state and never want to. I am blessed to be from Canada and have never know the fear and terror that comes along with war. I am thankful for this and pray for all of those who have suffered from such tragedies.
    From my first impression I would never have guessed that he had as much depth to his character as I was learning from this one conversation. Bruise is a quiet and reserved man. The word that constantly came to mind is ‘unassuming’. You do not expect a lot of character, personality, or dynamism from Bruise, but he has all of these qualities in spades. Our conversation kept on for quite some time until I decided to go back to the hotel to find Rachy and see what the group was up to.
    Bruise and I definitely had an attraction. We liked to talk about politics, poetry, running on the beach, our homelands. He may love Afghanistan as much as I love Canada, however I think he is more indebted to his country than I. I asked him once “what is the one thing in life that is the most important to you?”. He responded “to do something significant for my country”. I do love Canada but I don’t feel that I have to represent it anymore than by being a respectable Canadian and upholding values of kindness, consideration, and politeness.
    Bruise speaks many different languages; Persian, Pashtu, Uzbek, English, Russian, Hindi, Urdu, and a little bit of Arabic. Very impressive. He uses many of these languages in his job, but also while traveling. It helps quite a lot in terms of traveling. Despite his strength of language Bruise is soft spoken, and quiet in demeanor. He says what he likes and what he doesn’t and there is not any ambivalence or question as to his meaning.
    He rides horses. He told me that his grandfather had horses and he would ride them all the time while growing up in the countryside of Afghanistan. He said that he would speak to the horses. Not like the horse whisperer, but just confide in them. Perhaps one of the few animate creatures he trusts with his thoughts and feelings. As I got to know Bruise I figured that he was the type of person who takes a long time to get close to. He doesn’t let just anybody in. I think horses are the privileged few who get a taste of that inner depth.  Perhaps a horse is the perfect animal to compare him to. Tame, quiet, strong, substantial endurance, strength in spades, unassuming, will mate with anything that is put in his pen, needs lots of physical activity or else gets restless.
    I mentioned that Bruise and I had an attraction, and we did have a romance. On Christmas eve we took a walk down the beach after supper. As I mentioned in earlier posts the entire length of Arambol Beach was alive and kicking on Christmas Eve. Although while walking on the beach with Bruise everything seemed to slow down and be as soft and gentle as his voice. He held my hand as we walked down the beach. He has the most beautiful hands I have ever seen. Long tapered fingers, with soft café coloured skin. Just before midnight we stopped and he kissed me. I’m not going to lie his kiss made my knees weak. At the very moment that we first kissed fireworks literally went off in the sky and the warm ocean water rushed up upon our feet. It couldn’t have been more romantic! I felt like I was in a movie as the beautiful female lead that was being romanced by a dark and handsome foreigner. At that point I didn’t know whether this movie would turn out to be a romance, horror, mystery, or documentary. Hahahha! Alas I stopped things dead in their tracks despite my interest and attraction my heart hadn’t moved forward from my last relationship.
    Time carried on and Bruise and I kept on getting to know each other while enjoying the delightful beaches of Goa. The romance did pick up again, once I was ready to say ‘goodbye’ to my old relationship and ‘hello’ to a new possibility. A possibility that was potentially one of the most romantic moments of my life.
    I feel fortunate and thankful to have met such an incredibly interesting and dynamic man.     I pray that Bruise will do something significant for his country and in honour of the brother he lost. Although I feel that he already has in terms of the work he does with Asia Foundation as well as his personal representation in his daily life. Thanks Bruise you reminded me that there is a whole world of possibilities out there ;)

Planes, trains, and auto-rickshaws; Transportation in India

    Traveling around India one gets quite familiar with the many different modes and means of transportation. In Canada I am very comfortable with the Greyhound, as I have been back and forth across most of this country using this bus system. But I have also flown across the country, numerous times. I used to take the VIA rail train to and from university back in my undergrad days. While living in British Colombia I got very comfortable taking ferries, whether passenger, or car ferries. Beyond this I have biked all over Vancouver, parts of the island, and the Bow Valley. I enjoy being a pedestrian so I am also very comfortable with walking great distances, or taking public transit. All in all I am one with any, and every, means of transportation out there. Or so I would like to think!
    Indian transportation is a whole other world of moving people. Fair enough. If you had 1.2+ billion people to shuffle around a country I am sure some amendments and alterations would have to be made. I think that is the number one rule, or fact that you constantly need to remind yourself of when travelling around India; 1.2+ billion people.
    Traffic. Everyone says “you won’t believe the traffic in India. A million cars everywhere. It doesn’t make any sense”. True, but it doesn’t have to. In Canada we have a population of 33 million people with distinct driving lanes, rules, and flows of traffic. In India if there is a small opening of space on the road you can be sure someone will try to squeeze in and occupy it. Why not? It is an open space, and everyone is trying to get somewhere. The irony comes into play when you consider how much road rage exists in North America, with a significantly lower population. Indian drivers, motorists, commuters do not get angry with the traffic. There is a grand level of acceptance that it takes time to get from A to B, and everyone else is in the same boat, attempting the same thing. India-1, Canada-0.
    In terms of roadways India has cars, auto-rickshaws, motorbikes, bicycles, trucks, and buses. Same as Canadian roadways, with exception of the auto-rickshaws. Whether you are a passenger or driver of any of these vehicles in India it is a far different experience compared to somewhere like Canada. As a passenger you fear for your life if you look out the window and watch the traffic, not to mention the pushing, shoving, and cramming to get yourself in and on a means of public transport. As a driver you feel more in control and a part of the synchronistic system of transportation moving all about you, and then you fear for your life and pray to God that you wont die tragically in an accident.
   
Learning to drive a Motorbike

    While I was staying in Goa I mentioned that we rented motorbikes to hope around to the different beaches. While Rachy was around I was the passenger, and never the driver. However once she left I had my hand at it. I had never driven a motorbike before, only cars and trucks. I am not going to lie I was nervous. I rented a motorbike through the owner of our hotel Babu. I asked him to assist me in getting familiar with the bike before I went it alone. He showed me the basics; brakes, throttle, kickstand, etc. My first try with the bike was a little shaky. I couldn’t believe how heavy the bike was, it took a some extra effort to hold it upright. I could tell that Babu was not sure that I could do this successfully. He reinforced that I go very very slowly to start off with. I took heed and did go very slowly. However I also knew that I just needed to get comfortable and then it would come to me. Which is exactly what happened. Within ten minutes I was zipping around Arambol having a ball of a time. Fantastic. I drive down the coast with the wind in my hair, wearing my cool shades, and feeling like a million bucks. I could get used to this! I made it to Morjim and back, about a half hours’ drive one way, and felt amazed at my accomplishment. Now only did I teach myself how to drive a motorbike, but I also successfully drove in Indian traffic, on Indian roadways, with other Indian people! Way to go Steph !!! Not only an accomplishment but an absolute hoot!! I LOVE motorbikes, they are so incredibly fun and exhilarating. One of my favourite pastimes for sure!!!

Trains

The Metro in New Delhi

    While staying with Rachy in Delhi the easiest, fastest, and most economical means of transportation was the metro. It was conveniently situated right in our neighbourhood of Pahar Gahng. My first trip on the metro was Friday night and we were headed to a reggae party in Haus Kaus. Luckily Rachy had been riding the metro everyday to work, and was more than somewhat familiar with it. She showed me everything. Thankfully we got on late that evening so there were not a lot of people, in fact it was dead on the trains; a decent introduction nonetheless. I learned that the metro also had a ladies’ cart, which we were expected to board. I learned about the different metro lines, all a different colour, and each with a trail of the same coloured footprints, painted on the floor of each metro station. Ideally you follow the same coloured footprints to the colour of train that you want to switch to. There are six different metro lines in Delhi, which move over 2 million people a day. A little overwhelming, but not as much as the metro in Paris which moves 4.5 million people everyday. By the end of my week in Delhi I was riding the metro like an old pro. I knew my station, how to navigate to whichever station I wanted, I knew how to transfer lines, and I also learned how to weed my way through the millions of people that move through the New Delhi metro everyday!!! Again an impressive accomplishment if I do say so myself. Once I tackled the metro in Delhi, I felt like a ‘real’ world traveler.

The Railway
    Besides the metro the trains in India are not what I thought they would be. I have always loved to take the train. When I was doing my undergrad every time I went back home to visit I would take the train from London, Ontario, to Brampton, Ontario, and have my family pick me up. The train was so comfortable, soothing, and overall relaxing after a rough week at school. I often dreamed that I had lived in India in another life and that was part of the reason I loved trains, since the railway system has been part of India since British colonization.
    However this was not my experience while in India. In fact I came to resent the train system in India. You ALWAYS have to book ahead, something I am not accustomed to being a fly by the seat of my pants traveler. When you are able to book a train they are usually crowded. Most train cars are painted an awful colour, amplified by dim fluorescent lighting. After many hours this definitely affects ones mood and mentality. During the day you usually have to share your seat and berth with those around you. During the night you pray for a top bunk and that your bags don’t get stolen while you sleep. Which means you really sleep with one eye open, and one leg hooked through your backpack. All in all the trains in India don’t have the charm that I thought they would have. I think I had romanticized them to the point of unrealistic expectation. Ultimately I was just disappointed. All that being said the trains in India are still the fastest and most economic way to get across the country. With that in mind it is possible to suck it up and deal with the trains of India.

Auto-Rikshaws





     Another means of getting around India are the auto-rikshwas, or 'autos', or 'rik's', for short. They are the Canadian version of cabs, although far cheaper and a little more exhilarating. Despite the fact that auto's are one of the cheapest means of moving about, and therefore accessible to most of the population I actually felt
like a heel riding in them. I felt his because i would constantly get this image of royals riding around in a canopied cart, with some sort of servant toting them around. When you are in the auto you sit in the back seat, driver up front, you are secluded, sheltered, and distinguished as a passenger. I mentioned this once to a friend of mine from India and he just laughed at me. In India it is a sign of class and wealth if you ride around in taxi's, not rik's. There is a definite dividing line between the two and the poor mostly take the rikshaws. Perhaps I was just living out some fantasy of having someone else drive me to my specific destinations and feeling privledged enough to do so.
I will mention that in the colder regions of India rikshaws are not as fun. Because there is only a simple canopy made out of some simple material it does not shelter from different types of weather. The first morning I arrived in Delhi I grabbed a rikshaw and froze to death in the early morning almost zero degree weather. As I viewed the other rikshaw drivers I noticed that they all had extra clothing, such as scarves, hats, gloves, even winter jackets.
Rachy and I had another similar experience when we grabbed a rikshaw late in the Delhi evening. I think we cuddled the whole way back because we were so cold. Hahahaha :)

    All in all transportation in India is as diverse and varied as the country and its people. I wasn't fortunate enough to travel by boat in India, but I think I covered all the other bases. I flew as well, but that experience was pretty much the same as any where else in the world. I am happy that I threw myself into India's many means of getting around such a huge country. I am also happy that none of my experiences were all that bad. I am sure there are absolute horror stories out there. For the most part I came out unscathed, in one piece, and a little bit tougher, and smarter. Thanks India :)

My Final Days in Goa

My Final Days in Goa

    I write this piece after being back in Canada for several weeks. With this in mind I am starting to think that my time in Goa may have been my favourite. I do feel that each place I traveled had its own uniqueness, charm, character, and significance in my Indian travels, however Goa . . . Goa held its own!
    My partner in crime, Rachy, was scheduled to head back to Canada on the 3rd of January. The crew that I was hanging with in Arambol were scheduled to leave around the 4th or the 5th to head back to Delhi. My plan was to be in Kerala no later than the 6th of January. Well that was the plan. But for some reason every time I would plan to leave or look into how to get to Kerala I would delay, postpone, or procrastinate the task at hand. It seemed that as long as there was a party still going on in Goa, I was willing to be there. And so it goes . . . I continued living life at the beach and loving it.
    As it turned out the entire crew in Arambol didn’t leave on the 4th. However slowly slowly, or deerey deerey (slowly slowly in Hindi, phonetic spelling), people would trickle out and back to their lives . . . Wherever that was.

 A trip to the Anjuna night market

    Every Saturday night everyone and their brother heads to Anjuna for the evening night market. Those who were left of the crew had now become the social coordinators. We planned a trip to the night market plus a couple of British girls who were looking to go as well. Between the eight of us we split two cabs and headed to Anjuna. Driving to Anjuna takes about a half hour to forty five minutes. However we must have sat in the cab for at least 30 minutes edging slightly closer and closer to the entrance of the night market. Like I said everyone and their brother headed to Anjuna making it  a bustling centre of activity. We finally made it into the market, only after verbally securing a return trip back to Arambol with our drivers by getting their mobile numbers and confirming a time. The thought of being stuck in Arambol late into the night with no chance of getting back to Arambol was less than desirable. 
    Inside the market was just as crazy as outside, however with so many things to view and potentially purchase that you didn’t know what to do with yourself. I wasn’t in the market for anything, literally. Truth be told I had heard that the Anjuna market was way overpriced and not as agreeable to bargaining; a skill which I became much better at while in India. That being said I was intrigued by what I saw. Surprisingly, an incredibly high percentage of the vendors were Westerners. The night market was not full of local India vendors, but North Americans, Europeans, and Australians. All of whom were selling products or handicrafts at the same cost as that in these Western countries. I was shocked and a little bit appalled. It seemed to me that Westerners try to take over and capitalize on whatever they can. One would think that tourists visiting India would want to purchase Indian items and support the India economy. Indirectly whatever is purchased at the night market would still contribute to the India economy by some percentage. But it still would be by non-Indians capitalizing on the India tourist market, which seems kind of unfair, or unjust. Either way it really wasn’t what I was there for, which was just to experience the market. And so I did.
    I grouped with two of the boys Nebi, and Thomas. We sauntered around looking at masks, clothes, instruments, or anything that seemed somewhat interesting. Then we came across a security tower. This is what I love about boys (caution: HUGE generalization) they will propose options such as- lets climb the security tower!!! I am pretty sure that if I had been with a girl friend the thought never would have crossed our minds. Not with boys. The little, devious, and adventurous child comes out and considers something I would never consider as a real option, an option! It is fabulous!
    Come to think of it I think it started off as a dare, Nebi daring Tomas, or the other way around. Either way one of the boys started climbing the ladder. Once we realised that no one was stopping us, or even noticing what we were up to, we all started climbing the security tower. We climbed as high as we could go, which basically meant until there were no more ladders to climb. We passed all the security monitors, another sign that this was not an ‘Indian market’; security cameras/monitors would not exist or be afforded!!! Then we were at the top of the tower looking down on everything! There was a great Latino band playing fantastic music. There were people dancing below. Others were eating, drinking, smoking, wandering through the maze of the market. It was a sight to be seen indeed! In fact I think the only reason the night market was so memorable was because of this trip up the security tower and the ability to gain a different perspective. For a while Nebi, Tomas, and I seemed to just get lost in watching everything. We were all so quiet and still, an uncommon occurrence for sure. Usually we would be chatting, joking around, and generally being silly. I think we all had a moment up there. A moment where life seems to stop and you somehow gain this objective view of everything in existence. It doesn’t last long, but it is a nice reprieve before you get thrown back in and everything starts up again. Which is sure enough what happened. Nebi, Tomas, and I probably had a good half hour up in the security tower before security found us! Ha ha ha J We noticed security rapidly climbing the stairs towards us, so we rapidly descended the stairs towards them. I don’t even know if any words were exchanged, but we understood that it was time for us to come back down.
   
Illegally Blonde
   
    When you read or hear about Goa and all its specificities you learn that the police in Goa are a) incredibly corrupt and b) corruptly rule the province. This is shown mainly in the bribes that most tourists have to pay the Goan police officers. Most tourists in Goa rent motorbikes and scooters and use them to drive to the many different beaches along the Goan coastline. And most tourists on motorbikes end up being pulled over by the police and forced to pay a bribe. Before arriving in Goa I was told about this. I even read about it in the Lonely Planet. Even if you have a license, registration, you are wearing a helmet, and are driving according to all the rules of the road the police will create some sort of reason that you are in fact committing an offence and will ask for a bribe. This happens so frequently that I even took to carrying smaller amounts of money just so I wouldn’t loose too much if we did get stopped.
    Up until my last day in Goa I had been safe. Rachy and I had never had a run in with the police and never had to pay a bribe. However my luck had run out on this particular day. Phoebe and I were driving back to Arambol, from Anjuna to my guest house Om Star. We were both having a moment as we drove across this beautiful bridge that had the ocean on one side and a vast inlet on the other. The sun reflecting off my sunglasses, golden blonde locks billowing in the wind, and the strong breeze whipping across our tanned skin. Both Phoebe and I were both feeling the glory that is life!
    Just over the bridge I see a police vehicle stationed at the side of the road and several police officers. “Shit!” I thought “we are going to be pulled over”. Sure enough they waved me and my golden blonde hair over to the side of the road. At this point I had wished I had gotten Phoebe to drive because I might have been overlooked if they had seen her, a local Goan, and not me. Jittery and terrified I pulled over to pay the piper. The officer dealing with us interrogated us both. Asking where we were coming from, where we were going, where we were from. I was sure that the fact that Phoebe was from Goa would be our get out of jail card free, but nope! There is a local Goan language called  (yes, same as the Canadian beer). The officer started speaking to Phoebe in kocani, but unfortunately she is unable to speak it. The offer said he was going to confiscate our motorbike.  I was waiting for the “or you can pay me . . .” but it didn’t come. I started to panic as I was sure we were pulled over for a pay off and not for the police to actually confiscate our rented bike.  Knowing this I sprung to action asking the officer to lay out all our options. BTW he was detaining us because I , of course, didn’t have my drivers license with me. After I said this the officer then said he would either take the bike until the motorbike renter came, paid the fine, and claimed the bike, OR  pay him 1200 rupees. I knew it! Like I mentioned, I didn’t carry around huge amounts of rupees on me for this very reason. I mumbled out that I only had 500 on me. With that the officer said ‘no problem’ and gestured for the money. I went to the bike grabbed the 500 rupees from my wallet (equivalent to ten Canadian dollars), paid the officer and Phoebe and I went on our merry way! I wont deny that I wasn’t shaken up from the whole experience. But was relieved that nothing tragic or devastating happened. Also really happy that I didn’t pay 1200 Rupees, or get the bike confiscated. I managed my first Indian bribe!! Who knew I had in it me ?!?!?!?

Four holes; three piercings

     December 30th, 2012 I went with my dear friend Rachy to get my nose and my left ear lobe pierced. It was my objective to mimic the Indian fashion. It is customary for Indian brides to have a gold, or silver chain connecting these two piercings. I have always admired this and wanted to get this done for myself. Rachy and I found a clean and safe tattoo/piercing parlour in Morjim, a neighbouring beach, whereby we could both get our piercings. 
    On this day we drove our rental scooter over to Morjim for our piercings. I went first. Interesting fact; my piercer, Sandra informed me that there is actually a pressure point on the nose, at the point where I was to be pierced. Once pierced this pressure point actually helps lessen the pain when a woman gives birth, which is why Indian women get this pierced.
    I have to say this piercing meant so much to me that the joy from it made the pain seem incomparable. I did shed some tears but most were happy ones. The experience was so profound that it actually brought tears of joy to my piercer as well. It was a beautifully powerful experience. I could NOT stop smiling. I was grinning ear to ear the entire time. This piercing was something I had wanted for such along time and to finally be achieving it after such a long time was very special and was yet another dreams to come true. Pretty cool!
    That was Dec.30th. Dec 31st my nose piercing came out!!! Unlike a nose piercing, the only kind I have previously had, nose rings come out very easily. If they get the slightest tug or pull from . . . Anything, a towel, your hand, even a face tissue has snagged mine, it can come out. Once I realised my piercing was out I was already inebriated and somewhat uncomfortable with trying to fix the situation. I tried putting in back in, but failed. I tried again, no luck. I tried again but became incredibly nauseous as, like I mentioned, this is a pressure point with many nerves and sensitivities. Fiddling around, trying to put the nose ring back in was causing too much stimulus to the point and making me incredibly nauseous! I guess it is negligent to deny the fact that alcohol could have also had a factor in the equation. By the time I had slept off my boozy new years’ eve and gained assistance with putting the ring back in, the hole had closed up! Unfortunate, yes I know, but an experience nonetheless.
    A couple of days after Rachy had left I booked another appointment with Sandra, headed back to Morjim, and got my nose re-pierced. She took pity on me for my closed hole and felt remorse for not giving me fair warning about the delicacy of the piercing. I cannot say that the second time round had as much of an impact as the first, but I was happy to have my piercing back and was determined to take better care of it the second time round! While I was in Morjim for the re-piercing I noticed another woman getting a second nose piercing. She had both sides of her nose pierced. I had never considered that an option before but I really liked the look of it. It was feminine and beautiful, but strong and distinguishing as well. It struck me and stuck with me as I considered it for myself. I do have two nostrils and lots of extra space for a piercing!!!
    My last day in Arambol. My Goan cousin Phoebe and I met up in Anjuna. She took me to the most popular spot in Anjuna, Curlies, where ‘everyone’ goes. It was late afternoon, the sun was silently sinking beyond the Arabian sea and my days in Goa were coming to an end. As we sat at the beach chatting I casually mentioned my nose piercing and the possibility of getting the other side of my nose done as well. Phoebe mentioned her desire to get her nose re-pierced because her hole had closed up. She mentioned a piercer she had just met and spent some time with named Sandra. It couldn’t be the same woman. We both pulled out our phones and confirmed the phone number of ‘Sandra the piercer’, and sure enough it was the same woman. Phoebe was sure this was ‘meant to be’ and was adamant that we call her and book dual piercing appointments for our nose.
    After much back and forth confirmations and declinations the next day Sandra met us in Arambol to pierce of noses! Because we couldn’t go to her studio she came to our guesthouse. The owner, who I am buddies with, was great and let us use one of the vacant rooms. Sandra still set up the same way; cleaned and sterilized everything as any professional would do. This time I wanted someone else to go first. Sandra pierced Phoebe’s nose while I watched. I cringed and clenched as the needle went through Phoebes’ nose. It seemed to hurt a great deal and her poor little nose bled. Sandra said if you have alcohol in your system then you are much more likely to bleed from a piercing. I had remembered this from the time before so I guzzled water all morning as it had been a night of ‘Old Monk’ rum the eve before!
    Then it was my turn. I don’t know why I was more anxious for this piercing than the first, or the second, or the third for that matter. I focused on my breathing and relaxed as much as I could. When the needle went through I felt a burst of energy shoot through my being and up out of my head. The pain was strong and overwhelming. So much so that I felt myself fading and gave way to fainting. Seeing this, Sandra acted quickly grabbed my water bottle and poured it over my head. I quickly came to and regained consciousness. WOW! All this sensation, intensity, and drama over a small little point on my nose. Overwhelmed was definitely an accurate description. That being said the piercing was done and the task accomplished! I now had two nose piercings; one on either side, and I loved them both!
    I have never been one to want or be interested in piercings. In contrast to my best friend who has many different piercings ranging from an industrial (metal bar through upper ear), to her septum (middle of chin, through lower lip), and now two, symmetrical, lower lip piercings, I was never that girl. I refused to get my ears pierced even though most women have them pierced. I really wasn’t interested in any of it. But I feel very attached to these piercings and really like what they add to ‘my look‘. I feel as though it is another aspect of my character coming out and it makes me feel my uniqueness. Even more so, they have meaning, a story, and a bit of a history. Yes they are a pain in the ass sometimes and they still get caught and pulled by different things. But they have taught me to be more gentle with myself and more thoughtful with how I treat my nose. All in all I feel that the four holes and three piercings were a great addition to my trip and a lovely addition to Stephanie! Yes, in the third person ;)



  

     My last days in Goa were unique and quite lovely. I really didn't want to leave. That being said there wasn't much of a party after everyone had left. It was important that I moved on as well. I am so thankful for my time in Goa and in particular my last days. It was a truly memorable experience. I shall return again soon :)

The Empress' New Clothes

Was it all a dream?

    I have been back in Canada for over a week now. It has been a week of remembering what my life is here in Canada, while beginning to introduce the knowledge and experience of my time in India. It feels uncomfortable. Like an article of clothing that doesn’t quite fit. Not sure if it is something I bought that I am hoping to grow into, or something I bought with the vain hope that I will slim down and then be able to slide into. Perhaps it is an article of clothing that has been tailored to fit me exactly but still doing the final alterations. Any way it is suppose to fit it is new and unfamiliar to me.
    As each new day passed, here in Canada, India would seem so unbelievable and I would find myself asking “did that actually happen”? Coming back to Canada, from India, was like waking up from a crazy dream  that you cannot seem to forget, and that you don’t want to!
    Seeing the things I saw, and experiencing the things I experienced in India are still new to me. It is all still sinking in and becoming part of my being, part of my personality, part of my conscious and unconscious. It is still settling in. Part of me doesn’t like it. Like I said I feel, or it feels, uncomfortable. It is unusual, unfamiliar, and so unique that I almost cannot take it. Like it is too good to be true. For example I met someone who I think is the modern day Martin Luther King; Dr.Vandana Shiva. She is working on such important things that I do believe she is at the root, or is planting the seeds, that will  change the face of the global food chain. That is pretty impressive and INCREDIBLE that I was able to meet her, and see her speak, twice!
    I also lived one of my dreams; to learn Indian Classical dance. It may not seem like anything special or particularly challenging to do, its not like I climbed Everest or anything. But it has been so important and significant to me and it just fell into my lap. I hadn’t gone in search of it, it came to me, which made it all the more special. Again, slightly unbelievable!
    While I was in India I faced a very difficult challenge. I had to acknowledge and name abuse and neglect towards one of the women at the community I was staying in. This challenged me deeply in terms of standing up for basic human rights and entitlements, but it also challenged me by having to face my own sense of neglect and abuse throughout my life. Scary stuff and difficult to address when you are completely out of your comfort zone and don’t know how to begin broaching this topic.
    These three things changed me. They shaped me, molded me, shook me, and affected me so deeply that I know I will never be the same. This is not to say I am a completely different person and will never again be the Stephanie that everyone knows and loves, or at least I think they do. But just that these things are now a part of me, and always will be. There is no looking back. It is almost like I have just entered my 20’s. I am no longer in my “teens“, I am no longer still in my “youth“, no longer a juvenile, adolescent, or baby. I have officially left that behind and am merging into a new era. Ironic that I should compare it to coming into my twenties when I am actually leaving my twenties in a few short months! Curious! Curious indeed!
    Well that’s it. India brought me into a different sense or understanding of adulthood and it doesn’t fit quite right just yet. So I answered my postulation; it is something I am growing into!

Meeting a modern day Martin Luther King; also known as Dr.Vandana

    I should give the background context of my studies and interest in Dr.Shiva’s work. It is such . . . My undergraduate degree was interdisciplinary, which means unspecific. I started my focus researching marginalized populations in Latin America, primarily indigenous Guatemalans. As I moved further into my degree more topics came into the fold as human rights issues in Guatemala became issues of violence against women, property, and land entitlement. An issue of land became an issue of food as indigenous Guatemalans need land to grow food on for subsistence as well as to sell and support themselves. The issue of food became an issue of food politics.
    There are two women who have contributed to my knowledge and love for Dr.Shiva. One is my former professor Dr.Wendy Russell. During my interdisciplinary studies she assigned different readings from Dr.Shiva on the issue of GMO’s and seed saving. Dr.Russell was NOT a fan of one of the main pharmaceutical companies which genetically modifies seeds and sells them to farmers. This was my first intro to Dr.Shiva. The other was from one of my mentors and late friends Dr. Joan Mason-Grant, who dedicated a lot of her work, study, and research into food politics. For example she lead a delegation of students down to El Salvador to show them different methods of sustainable farming as an alternative to chemical inputs like fertilizers, pesticides, and GMO’s.
    Ultimately I have been a long time fan of Dr.Shiva’s writing and work and am further enamored by her simply because of Dr.Russell’s introduction and Joan’s work/study focus. You can understand how excited Stephanie would get to find out that not only did she know someone who knows and works with Dr.Shiva, but that Stephanie, herself, would get the opportunity to meet Dr.Shiva and see her in action. Incredible! This was just such the case. While I was staying in Udaipur I often frequented Millets of Mewar (http://milletsofmewar.com/)restaurant. I was there one night chatting with one of the owners about sustainability and food issues in India. I referenced Dr.Shiva and the co-owner, Anoop, asked if I wanted to meet her. He had been working with Dr.Shiva on sustainability projects throughout the province of Rajasthan. She was also helping them with the restaurant. The workshop where I was going to meet her was to be held in Delhi in the middle of December. At that moment I knew I would be celebrating Christmas a week early and receiving one of the best possible gifts in my life! Who says Santa Clause doesn’t exist ?!?!?!
    I arranged my schedule to arrive in Delhi on the Friday before the workshop. Dr.Shiva wasn’t speaking until Sunday but I was interested to see what the event would be like. Saturday morning Rachy and I set off to attend the workshop. Of course we got horribly lost on the metro. We went in the complete opposite direction from where we were supposed to go. Then once we got to the correct metro stop we must have asked at least ten different people where the event was and got different directions from all of them. We did finally make it to the workshop. It was a good test run for the following day.
    Sunday morning. I was up and ready to go bright and early as I was so incredibly eager. This Sunday was particularly auspicious as it was the 16th of December. This is also the date of Joan’s birthday. Somehow I think she willed this whole event to happen just for me. Probably not. Nonetheless it was that much more special knowing that I would be meeting Joan’s idol, as well as my own, on her birthday.
    Despite the fact that I now knew how to get to the event I still left the hotel room very early. I arrived in time to catch the owner/founder of Nourish Organics speak about her company and how to market ‘organic’ products within India. Dr.Shiva hadn’t arrived at this point but she was all I could think of. My friend, Anoop, from Millets of Mewar was there. I exclaimed to him about Dr.Shiva;  my anticipation and excitement! I don’t think he realized how special this event was for me. As he  was shocked at what a star-struck little groupie I had suddenly manifested into. He also enjoyed this and, I think, took pleasure in knowing what a gift he had given me. Then before my very own eyes stood Dr.Vandana Shiva. Wrapped in an orange shawl with a large, maroon bindi in the middle of her forehead, her hair tied back in a low bun. Dr.Shiva was standing in the same room as me! Holy crow! She emanates an incredible energy. You just feel her power and strength without her saying a word. When you think about it she has stood up to some of the most powerful people and entities in the world. She is fighting against companies like Monsanto; multi-million dollar pharmaceutical conglomerates that could squash her like a bug. But they don’t. They are fearful of her. Fearful of what she knows, what she does, what truth she speaks. That is a pretty incredible force to be dealing with and to have standing in front of you!
    I have met a few other famous people in my life. The first was Elvis Stojko; a Canadian figure skater I met at my acupuncturists’ office when I was a teenager. The second was Jean Vanier, the founder of the international organization L’Arche (http://www.larche.org/home.en-gb.1.0.index.htm), which provides community living for adults with developmental disabilities. I was actually fortunate enough to be asked to be speak in a group talk about the program Intercordia, which he created. After which I was able to meet him and shake his hand. I met him again, later in the day and he remembered me!! So incredibly special! Lastly, I met Deepa Mehta; a film producer/director. She gave the closing address for the 2006 graduating class at my University, of which I wasn’t part. I graduated the following year. But lucky for me, she was part of another talk which I was invited to. I still maintain that I am one of the luckiest women I know!
    Meeting Elvis Stojko was cool because he is an amazing Canadian athlete and known worldwide. Jean Vanier was a pretty big deal because of how much L’Arche means to me and how much it changed my life. Deepa Mehta was special just in terms of her breadth, success and the fact that she is Indian Canadian, which touches me on a nationalistic level. But also personal as my step-mom is Indian, as are some of my closest friends. Meeting Dr.Shiva was an amalgamation of meeting these three, times ten! The work she does bodes so close to my heart because of the ties to Joan and Dr.Russell. But also because it resonates so deeply in terms of my passions and the things I care about in my life and the world. We are all deserving and entitled to whole, healthy food and this should never be questioned, manipulated, altered, or denied from people. That is not humanity or justice in my mind, rather the opposite. Dr.Shiva has made such an impact in the world. She has been working on keeping GMO’s out of India since the 80’s. She is working to help local farmers yield good, abundant, and healthy crops. She has established seed banks so farmers can save their seeds and not have to buy new ones on a yearly basis. She is helping to keep farmers alive so they don’t go into debt and then don’t commit suicide, a common tragedy in India. She is educating people with her books, her website, the organization she established, Navdanya (http://www.navdanya.org/). I entitled this blog “The Modern day Martin Luther King” because I feel Dr.Shiva is having the same sort of impact on the world in her own way. Ten, twenty, fifty years down the road people will reference Dr.Shiva, the work she has done, and the impact she has had. I believe this to be absolutely true and absolutely certain. She is changing the world and it is incredible and awe inspiring!
    With all this is mind you can imagine my excitement at meeting the one and only Dr.Vandana Shiva. I will confess I didn’t remember a lot of what she said after the event was over. I think I was so caught up with the fact of meeting her, in person, that my brain couldn’t process anything else. Thankfully I recorded her talk; another reason I couldn’t focus I was too preoccupied with my camera. After she finished speaking I ran outside to catch her on her way out. She is a busy woman and had to leave straight away for a meeting. I think she was a little confused by this ridiculous Canadian who was so eager to shake her hand. Which is entirely true. I felt it was incredibly important to shake her hand and am so glad that I did so. She withdrew her hand from beneath her orange shawl and shook mine. Pinaki, one of the event organizers who was leading her out of the building gave me the most puzzled and confused look at my absolute conviction to shake Dr.Shiva’s hand. Obviously another faux pas in terms of Indian customs, but oh well J I also had the “I’m never going to wash this hand again” thought. But of course it was fleeting. It was my right hand for goodness sake. If I don’t wash it, in India of all places, God help me!!!
    Anoop was with me after I met Dr.Shiva. He still couldn’t get over my excitement and energy in regards to Dr.Shiva. I remember he gave me a big hug as a congratulations but I was still in another place that I don’t think I even hugged him back. Nothing, or no one, else mattered at that moment, whoops, sorry Anoop. In time I regained my composure, enough to attend and actually pay attention to the closing speaker at the event.

    This fabulous day, Joan’s birthday, got even better when I learned of another event that Dr.Shiva was speaking at that week, and that I was invited to attend!! Incredible. However this unbelievable day had to come to an end and did with a group of us; the event organizers and some of the speakers, attending the Delhi Street Food festival. Tons of vendors from different regions all over the country dishing up your favourite street foods like pani puri, pakoras, and of course chai ;) I got to know the event organizers and delve a little into the social justice scene in New Delhi, India. I also got to chat further with the closing speaker Dr.Robert Verkerk (www.anh-usa.org) who researches the ties between inflammatory disease in Western culture, and genetically modified foods. Amazing day, amazing people, amazing life! At the end of this absolutely incredible day the one thing I did remember from Dr.Shiva’s talk was “let’s work together”. Let’s work together. Let’s work together to make this a better world for all peoples. Thank you Dr.Shiva! You made my decade!

Touristy Taj

    I went to see the Taj Mahal! I had arrived in Delhi for a weekend workshop on Organic Farming, where I met Dr.Vandana Shiva, but had the week following to play with. Rachy and I were traveling to Goa for Christmas but after the 22nd of December when she had finished her time at AIMS, the hospital in New Delhi she was working at. Agra, the city where the Taj Mahal was built was only a few hours by train, so I thought I would do an overnighter in Agra, see the town, the Taj, and whatever other sights there were in the area.
    I booked a Tat Khal train ticket, tat khal means emergency or last minute and are available the day before departure. I was to leave Wednesday at 11:30am. The morning of I met my Australian retiree friend for breakfast. Again she helped me get to New Delhi Train Station, find my platform, and wish me well in my travels. Such a lovely lady.
    The three hour train ride was mostly pleasant. India is always noisy and sometimes you just want peace and quiet, especially after staying in a major city like Delhi. That being said I have always loved bus, train, or plane rides and it was nice to just sit back and take in the Indian countryside.   
    When I arrived in Agra I caught a rikshaw to a Hotel I had read about in the Lonely Planet. The information I was given about the hotel was incorrect and this particular hotel was way out of my price range. Luckily my rikshaw driver was still around and drove me to the same place my Australian friend had stayed at a few nights before. The Taj Guest House, just a few blocks over; I got a very basic room on the main floor for a reasonable price. After all it was only one night so I could deal with my cell block. My Australian friend had put it best when she said I had been spoiled by Udaipur, which I think was partly true. The hotel room I had there was incredible! Incredible view, incredible owners, abundant space, decent bathroom. It was pretty swank. I paid the same price in Udaipur as I did in Agra, for a fraction of what I got. Quite the spectrum indeed.
    Too excited to do anything else I washed off the train ride, put myself together and headed straight to the Taj Mahal. To enter into the Taj you have to walk down a long, narrow street which is laden with souvenir shops, touts, and vendors. In Agra, I learned, sales pressure is far greater than anywhere else I have been. It is much more aggressive as I am sure the competition is far more fierce!
    I bought my ticket and started to head into the Taj when I was stopped by a man. He told me that there was free water and shoe cover. In that instance all I wanted to do was to go see the Taj, which was just steps away. I could get water at any time and I really just didn’t want to be bothered, by anyone. I could see people inside the Taj grounds wearing their shoes so I didn’t understand why this man was telling me to leave my shoes at the entrance. I knew that you were not allowed to wear shoes inside the tomb of the Taj, but I figured you could take your shoes off at the entrance to the tomb, not the entrance to the Taj grounds. After a frustrating conversation I finally realized that the man was letting me know that they were offering free shoe covers, like the little booties we get at Fort Mac because our boots are so dirty. Once I realized this I thanked the man for letting me know, and he walked me over to get the water and shoe covers. I have already learned that nothing is free in India, even if people say so, it usually isn’t true, there is always an exchange of something. Hence my suspicion and frustration. Same was true in this circumstance. Despite the fact that this man helped me get the water and shoe covers he also wanted me to come to his shop to buy, whatever it was that he sold. Of course!
    I got inside the Taj grounds and could see the Taj Mahal peeking out through an arched doorway ahead of me. I was so excited. I hadn’t planned on going to see the Taj while in India. I didn’t think it would be on my route and I sometimes lack the desire to do all the stereotypical tourist things, for a variety of reasons. But the closer I got to the Taj, the more the anticipation built. Entering into the fort doorway the Taj was in plain view now and it was absolutely stunning, perhaps even breathtaking. On the other side of the entrance I had to stop dead in my tracks and just take it in. I have never seen such a beautiful sight! Tourists are buzzing every which way and it looks like a beehive with swarming wasps moving all around the tomb. All of the busy bees working towards keeping the Queen Taj bee, alive and well through tourism dollars. It really is a sight to see.
    After I regained power and movement in my legs I walked closer to the Taj. But I couldn’t go far without having to stop and take picture after picture after picture. I would go ten feet, stop for a photo op. Then another ten, photo, then maybe 15 feet. This went on for the entire length of the fountain walkway leading up to the Taj.
    I usually attract attention as a tourist in India. I cant go far without people noticing me, the clothes I wear, and the colour of my skin. The Taj was no exception. Just the same as me stopping every ten feet to get a photo of the Taj, I was stopped every ten feet by locals wanting to get a photo of me! I was already a little irritated with the week; being in Delhi, a huge city, with very little space to yourself, constant noise, activity, and movement. I was longing for some self time, especially in the presence of such an incredible building and world wonder, but Agra was not the place to get it! I would say yes to photos for some people, mostly women or families, and no to others, mostly young guys. In addition to the attention I was already drawing, this day I was wearing my very brightly coloured Indian suit; purple and yellow. I believe I drew even more attention looking like a patriotic peacock of a tourist in India!
    I got a slight reprieve while in the tomb. I wish I had a stronger and more varied vocabulary to describe everything about the Taj and the tomb. It is not even so much what I saw its just the feeling or energy that it emanates. It is a powerhouse of . . . No it is powerful and distinguished. You respect its presence so much so just by it being there. Much the same way Dr.Shiva holds an incredible power that you are absolutely amazed by when in her presence! I spent a few minutes inside the tomb just standing there taking it all in. Despite the fact that everyone else is doing a merry-go-round inside the tomb, I stood off to the side and just felt it. Again, truly amazing.
    I once again joined the ranks and shuffled along with everyone else until I was outside the tomb again. Once outside many people take pictures of their loved ones with the Taj or the surrounding river, in the background. I chose to sit down on the cool marble floor of the Taj platform and again just be in its presence, or have its presence be in me. Well that was my plan. I was approached by Indian tourist after Indian tourist wanting my photograph. I couldn’t get over the irony! Here I am at one of the few wonders of the world and people are more eager and excited to get my photograph than a photo of the Taj! It didn’t make sense to me. After a while I grew tired of the constant badgering and decided to leave the main platform. I had refused a photo from one group of boys who kept asking and started to follow me. I kept on refusing a photo but they kept insisting. At one point I actually found myself fleeing from them! I thought I had escaped them and was sitting quietly on a bench when they found me again! They still wouldn’t stop insisting and bugging me! I started to get really upset because they just wouldn’t listen to me. Even before this they kept trying to take a picture of me just in the background even though I had already said I didn’t want my photo taken! This last time when I started to get upset they finally got the hint, even more so because I started drawing attention from other tourists noticing the scene. After they left more tourists started asking for my photo! I now know what celebrities feel like being hounded by the paparazzi! Once I left the Taj Mahal I bee lined it through the long corridor of shops and went to a rooftop patio where I could view the Taj Mahal and sip a cup of chai by myself! 
    For all of the Taj's beauty and splendor Agra; the city which houses it, does not match. The town itself is dirty, busy, lacks charm, and character, and is full of people looking to get something from you. Early the next morning I was greeted by an unpleasant surprise as I got food poisoning from food I ate in Agra. This wasn’t my first experience in India getting sick from food, Im sure it wont be the last either. However, to date it has been the most severe. I had a arranged to go sightseeing that day and wasn’t sure if I could manage it given my new situation. I had some ginger tea, sucked it up and went sightseeing. After the Agra fort, where I spent at least a half hour just sitting on a bench enjoying the quiet solitude I went to a garden with a view of the Taj across the river. I spent another half hour having a snooze when I realised that I didn’t have the energy to sightsee and really just wanted to get back to Delhi, rest, and prepare for my flight to Goa the next day. I went to the train station and bought a general boarding ticket to New Delhi. I am still learning about traveling in India. There were two assumptions I made at this point. One, was that ‘New Delhi’ meant the New Delhi Train Station and two, that there would be seats in the ‘general boarding’ compartment. As everyone on the platform made a run for the train I too hopped into a compartment which had basically shelving for which to sit. It looked like the place you put your baggage on a train, not where you put yourself. I couldn’t sit upright in the ‘shelf’ I got into, not to mention the fact that above me where a row of Sadhus, their rear ends only inches away from my head. On top of this the entire compartment smelt like cow dung, I’m not really sure of the source. After a few minutes of being incredibly uncomfortable and realising I would not last the three hour train ride to Delhi I decided to go sit on the ground away from the shelving. After doing so a man outside the train said that there was a ‘ladies cart‘, a standard part of most transit vehicles in India. So I hopped off the compartment I was in and got into the ‘ladies cart’ which was packed! There was one spot available on a top “bunk“. So I climbed up there and shared the top bunk with a man sleeping next to me. I could not sit up straight, I definitely came to appreciate body space after this experience, I could not stretch out my legs, I could barely move, but I rationalized that it was better than waiting around dirty Agra for many more hours suffering through my illness. So I hugged my backpack, hunched over like Quasimodo and rested. After a while the cute little girls sitting across from me let me stretch my legs across to the opposite bunk, which was a nice reprieve. The sleeping man woke up in the last half hour, enough time for me to lay back and let my neck and spine be straight. Lovely.
    I made it to Delhi in one piece. Although when I got off the train I soon discovered that I was not at New Delhi Train Station, which is only a five minute walk from the hotel I was staying at. But somewhere in the south of Delhi. So I hired a taxi and got a ride to New Delhi. A ride where I could stretch out my legs, hold my back and head up straight, and not have a man sleeping next to me. It was amazing!
    I can say that I saw the Taj Mahal, a wonder of the world. It is a wonder! It is a wonder that such a beautiful building exists in such a horrible city. It is a wonder why Indians are more interested in taking a picture of a white woman than the Taj Mahal, it is a wonder why my digestive system can tolerate much of the food I ingest here in India, without even further illness and distress. Most importantly it is a wonder why I am fortunate enough to be able to travel to India, experience the good and the bad, and be able to share it with all of my friends and family back home. That is probably the greatest wonder for me!

L'Arche Kerala

    I love the breeze in Kerala. Everyday the most gentle breeze moves through the air and brings reprieve to your sticky skin. Kerala is in the south of India, and as such is much hotter than the north. I cannot get through the afternoon without having a permanent layer of sweat coating my body, and that glisten-y look to my skin. As much as it can be uncomfortable it is good for the skin and keeps my sebaceous glands working efficiently.
    I have decided that Kerala, and the L’Arche community here, hosts some of my most favorite things in life. For starters coconuts! There are coconut trees aplenty. L’Arche Kerala has 10 acres of land used, in part, to support the community. There are coconut, banana, and cashew trees, hibiscus plants, and black pepper to name a few. They also have milk cows, but I haven’t yet had the opportunity to milk them ;) Coconuts; everywhere! They fall from the trees. We usually gather and collect them to use in our cooking. There are several cooks which prepare the meals for the whole community. Guess what they put in everything they make??? Coconuts !!! It is fabulous. Either they shred coconuts to make a fantastic chutney, or they use the oil of the coconuts to cook with. Beyond this there are always fresh coconuts to crack open and drink their delicious water, or eat the fleshy pulp. So delicious!
    Flowers! Flowers are everywhere here in Kerala. Not only are they everywhere, but they are my favorite type of flower; hibiscus, which is actually an herb. But they have a beautiful flower. I have a particularly good association with hibiscus as not only are they very good for your immune system, but they first time I viewed them I was on the most magical trip in Honduras. I had hiked into a remote community called Montana Verde in the North West of Honduras. We spent the night in this remote mountaintop community with no running water, no electricity, and no roads to drive in on. When the morning came we were invited into a modest home where they prepared fresh tortilla on a wood stove, and served it to us with beans, queso (cheese), and coffee. I remember walking out of this humble home and being surrounded by hibiscus plants. They were incredible. The most brilliant shade of fuchsia pink and red, all around me. So alive and vibrant! Perhaps the feelings I was experiencing at the time being in that community and on that mountaintop. Needless to say I love hibiscus.
     Ashaniketan uses these gorgeous flowers all the time! For every celebration, or occasion the hibiscus flowers are gathered and displayed in an attractive fashion. If it is someone’s’ birthday all types of flowers are collected. Some are used to make a lovely bouquet, while the others are handed out to everyone present. Then, one by one, we take the flower up to the birthday girl or boy, and give it to them. By the end of this “ceremony” the birthday individual is covered with an amazing assortment of flowers. Such a lovely way to celebrate someone’s day of birth!
    Two years ago I made it a New Years’ resolution to always have fresh flowers in my house. This goes to show how much I love fresh flowers and relish having them around at all times. And, yes, I achieved the resolution ;)
    Singing. L’Arche Kerala is almost always full of song. I was looking forward to this the most in coming back to L’Arche. One of my favorite things/memories in L’Arche Choluteca, Honduras was the music. We sang, practically, all day long. We would get up, go to capia (chapel), and sing morning prayers. Then we would sit down for breakfast. But before we ate, we would sing a song, a grace, to bless our food. After breakfast was another song/grace to close the meal. Singing would carry on throughout the day at every meal, every prayer, and pretty much everything we did. I loved it! We don’t sing quite as often here in L’Arche Kerala, but there is singing. Mostly at prayer time; every night at 7pm. Or on Friday’s when the whole community gathers for prayer. However L’Arche Kerala has a lovely tradition whereby at a celebration, or birthday, the guests will opt to sing a song in honour of the occasion. I really enjoy the voices. They are incredibly beautiful. I really enjoy Indian singing, the inflection in voice is so captivating. In just holds me in such a close embrace that I never want it to let me go. It warms, energizes, and creates such a sense of peace within. What would I want it to stop?
    Hands and feet; more of my favorite things. It is not so much that L’Arche Kerala is full of people with beautiful hands, but that everyone is always holding hands. It is great. I am constantly witnessing friends, community members, neighbours, walking down the road holding hands. More than once a day my hand is picked up by someone and is held. Likewise I do the same with others in the community.
     I will admit that we do not hold feet. I have always taken a liking to feet. The reason being is that they are what carry you through life. It is important that we don’t neglect them and give them as much love and attention as every other part of our body. Hence my foot fetish. In this community you are almost always shoeless. Some members of the community don’t even wear shoes or sandals when leaving the house. Part of this is convenience or comfort, as Kanaka’s feet don’t really work in shoes or sandals. Beyond this there are so many interesting feet in the community. Many are very worn from wearing sandals everywhere, rough roads, and general wear and tear. Many of the toes here are differing lengths and sizes. I took a fabulous photo of a soapy footprint just this morning. Still I indulge my fetish.

   Lastly, I love the breeze. The breeze in Kerala is soft and gentle, but just enough to refresh you from the warm days. Every time it passes over my body I give thanks that I have that moment away from the heat, away from the humidity, and the feeling of constantly being dewy. I have always loved a fresh breeze. It reminds me of summer. A warm breeze pushing through the leaves on the trees, a glass of something cool in your hand, and the feeling of . . . being. I was going to write 'relaxed' or 'peaceful', but I think 'being' is exactly what you are doing and feeling on those summer days that i am so fond of ;)
    I guess, after writing this, it is safe to assume that you can make me pretty happy if you keep coconuts well stocked, always have fresh flowers around, hold my hand/s, sing beautiful things, and put a fan on me!!! I don’t know if this makes me incredibly simple, or incredibly unrealistic. Hahahahha. Take your pick!!

Jagdish Temple

    A trip to the Jagdish temple. I had walked by it several times and not really taken note. Michele, a fellow traveler, had wanted to go. So I was game as well. The temple is marked by at least 2-3 flights of stairs straight up. Apparently you need to be in good physical shape to connect with God. Once you travel up the stairs you are directed to a shoe deposit where you are to take off your shoes while in the temple area.
The building itself is absolutely stunning! I love architecture to begin with but ancient architecture with incredibly detailed, hand carving is even better. One of the men that works at the temple was giving a bit of an explanation about the rows in the stone carvings.  The first row were demons, then elephants, a sign of good luck in Indian culture, then horses, for power, followed by humans, and then the Gods dancing. The carvings of the Gods’ were of course larger than the rest of the rows. I really liked how the Gods were dancing. I love to dance, and have always loved to dance. It makes me feel free, expressive, beautiful, sensual, enchanting, fluid, ethereal even. Dancing is definitely one of my most favourite things to do. To see it literally carved in stone being performed by the Hindu Gods made me pretty happy.
    Inside the temple there are offerings being given, bindi’s marked with a bright red powder, women are chanting, men are lying down on the floor, arms outstretched and hands pointed in prayer at the god idol, sitting at the perfect centre of the temple. Everything is alive and devoted to worship. While sitting with some of the chanting Indian women I noticed  a mother and young daughter at the temple. They seemed very sweet and I smiled at them.
    When it was time to go Michele and I came down the many temple steps and were greeted by the mother and young daughter I had seen in the temple. I mentioned them in an earlier post as they invited us to tea at their home. I was further invited to dinner at their home,  which I did later accept. I went to Geeta‘s, the mother, place of work and confirmed that I would come on Sunday for dinner. Well this invitation extended into a whole day affair where Geeta, her daughter Jaya, and the rest of the family would take me around all of Udaipur, and then prepare a homemade meal for me. How fabulous!
    Sunday it was. I met Geeta at the Jagdish temple and walked with her to her home where the two children were waiting eagerly. Geeta’s husband, Krishna, was just coming home from work. When I arrived at the house Geeta first prepared a traditional Rajasthani breakfast for me; poha and chai. Poha is seasoned rice, no spicy, with some seeds mixed in. it was delicious and I wondered why restaurants in town didn’t offer it as a breakfast option. Of course chai was offered. Chai is always offered and always the thing to share amongst people. Even if it is 11 o’clock at night, chai will be served if there is someone there to drink it. This suits me just fine as I love chai and could drink it all day everyday, and I do!
    After breakfast it was dress up time. The children were put into ‘going out’ clothes and Stephanie became the large, white, Canadian doll for them to dress up. First it was the choice between two traditional Indian dresses; one white, one green. The green suited my complexion better, so green it was. Then Krishna, the husband painted to finger and toe nails to match. He also covered me with a very mild perfume, which was lovely. But made me feel like I had a B.O. problem! Then Geeta and Jaya put makeup on me. They wouldn’t accept ‘nay‘, or ‘no’ as an answer. So they drew kohl on my eyes, making them appear larger. They consistently told me how wonderful and beautiful I looked. I personally wasn’t a fan of the dress. I like the typical kourtas and sari’s that Indian women wear. But I was a guest, and they seemed to enjoy playing with their large Canadian doll, so I let them!
    We left the house to “see the city”. I walked all over Udaipur. I walked all over Udaipur in someone else’s’ high-heeled sandals. It wasn’t so bad at first. But we walked for over an hour to get to the Neemish Temple. The Neemish Temple is the place where Krishna and Geeta met, fell in love, and eventually married. After walking the distance to get to the temple we then walked another 750 feet up a hill to get to the top. My tree planting legs were still strong and enduring so the height and distance didn’t bother me. What bothered me was that my sweaty feet kept slipping out of the sandals. Krishna had to hold my hand almost the entire way up so I didn’t fall out of the shoes. Ha ha ha ha ha. I certainly felt like a white, Canadian doll in distress.
    But the view was worth it. At the top were vistas upon vistas. All of Udaipur lay in front of us, and all of the neighbouring mountains lay everywhere else. Truly amazing. Although, yet again, my camera died once at the top. So I only got a few pics in. Oh well, another time, another 750 feet!
    I should mention that on the walk up to the temple Geeta and I stopped to get Panipuri. A new favourite of mine. Imagine puffed out Pringles chips. Small, round, hollowed out dumplings. That are very light and crispy in their texture. You poke a hole in the top, stuff it with a seasoned potato mix, then dunk it into a spicy lime brine, then into a sweet, but thicker, sauce. You put the whole thing in your mouth at once. I am always so worried about being rude or offensive in a new and different culture. But it is nice to know that there are some times you don’t have to worry and you can put the whole panipuri in your mouth at once! It tastes incredible. What doesn’t taste incredible is the incense you eat when you go to a Hindu temple. Here in India I am putting things in my mouth I never thought possible! Yes, I understand how funny that last statement was. When you enter into a temple, besides taking off your shoes, you often ring a bell, take a spoonful of water to drink (which I pretend to do as I don’t know if my body will agree with the water) and then one to pour on your head. I think (finger’s crossed) it is incense that you can also take into your mouth. There is also some kind of seed. You take a spoonful of it in your hand. Geeta examined the seeds in my hand for quite some time, then put some more, and some more. Then told me that the seeds represented the prayers I had asked for. I was now to keep these seeds somewhere safe and my prayers would come true. I put them in a zipper of my camera bag. If my camera gets stolen then my prayers certainly won’t come true ;)
        After the, also difficult, walk down in the same sandals. We took a rikshaw to a local garden that was built for the Majaranas daughter. It turned out to be one of my favourite places in Udaipur. Solely due to the fact that it was quiet, peaceful, and away from the dirty city streets. It was lovely. We sat there and munched on roasted peanuts and popcorn. Both a very popular street treat. You can smell the peanuts roasting as you walk down any city street. Just the same you can also see the large woks popping fresh popcorn anywhere in the city of Udaipur.
    After we left the garden we refreshed ourselves with some freshly squeezed cane juice. The juice press has a large crank and squashes the sugar cane. It pours down onto a large chunk of ice, which cools the juice. Then they pour the juice through a strainer and  into a glass. Delicious. Then there was even more food!!!
    We arrived back to Krishna and Geeta’s home for dinner. Unfortunately the tube for the propane tank which they use to cook all of their food has been blocked. So Geeta had to use a small kerosene element to cook the entire meal. There were rounds of delights. Let me tell you. First there was chai, which was more than welcome after a busy and slightly draining afternoon walking around in the hot Indian sun. Then there was a piece of chocolate cake, which was shared by all by feeding each other. It was at this point that I remembered a birthday of my best friend Jasmine. I was invited to her home for cake and festivities. Everything was the same as in my home for the birthday celebrations, however, once the cake is cut the birthday girl/guy is fed the first bite. In turn everyone in attendance is fed a bite of the cake. Jasmine’s family is Indian so it makes sense that I should practise the same tradition in India!
    I watched Geeta’s mother-in-law, sit in front of the t.v., shell and peel clove after clove of garlic. She must have prepared twenty plus cloves. All of which were going into our dinner! As the cooking was coming along Krishna and Geeta pulled me into their storage room. Once a week they purchase a bottle of beer and share it between them, but away from the kids and Geeta’s mother-in-law. Out of respect, of course. Here I am in a storage closet with a bottle of clandestine beer, which I cannot drink because of my gluten intolerance. But I drank some of it anyway . . . And suffered for it in the aftermath. It was nice to spend time with Geeta and Krishna. You can see how much they love each other and what a happy family they are. The kids are always smiling and playful. There is always lots of silly, playfulness. Lots of hugs and affection. It was incredibly sweet. In addition to the beer Geeta and Krishna had a bag of chips, which we all shared, and all fed to each other as well.
    As the night passed I caught up on Bollywood and Hollywood movies, the latest in Indian MTV, and some traditional Rajasthani folk dance. Geeta kept apologizing for how long the food was taking to cook. But truth be told I would have waited double the time for homemade Indian food . . . In India! I couldn’t have been happier.
    At last the meal was ready; mutton, or goat, rice, and chappati. The mutton was cooked in a pressure cooker, which made it all the more tender and moist. So incredible! We of course fed each other, which I liked. I think it is considerate and intimate. Although I noticed that as everyone else just ate their meals, Krishna kept solely feeding me. I wasn’t sure if I looked starved or if it was the Indian obsession with a white woman, but I think I had two servings for dinner that night!
    Before I knew it the day and evening had passed. It was time for me to go back to my hotel and rest my weary white Canadian doll head. I was invited to stay the night at Geeta and Krishna’s. Considering the fact that this family of four all sleep together, in the one room of their apartment, which serves as their family, living, and dining room, I thought it best to say good night and sleep in my own hotel room bed. The gap between a rich, white, Canadian tourist, and a humble Indian family had never felt as grand as it did then. Especially in light of the their abundant supply of hospitality and generosity bestowed to me.
    That was when the Canadian doll spent the day with Geeta, Krishna, Jaya, and Ragvir.

Friendly Strangers- Rishikesh

Elisa from Austria

    What a gem. We met at Parmarth Niketan. The first time I saw her she immediately reminded me of my best friend Jasmine. In Jasmine’s younger years she had a short hair cut, much like Elisa had, with brown eyes to match. Elisa became my porridge and tea buddy. Every morning after yoga and meditation we would go for porridge at The Office. Correction, we would go for porridge and tea at The Office. A small, whole in the wall of a place with the best fruit and museli, porridge, or juices. They also offered apple and cinnamon, banana, or chocolate samosas! They boasted that they were the only place in all of India to offer these types of samosas. Elisa and I would talk about life, travels, life at the Ashram. She was so gentle, and soft in everything she did. I felt like a big, clumsy, boisterous Canadian next to the feminine, and graceful Elisa.
    My favourite memory of Elisa was going into the town of Rishikesh to buy our very first Indian outfits. Elisa had very expensive tastes. Every fabric she selected was worth the most amount of money. We had a lot of fun shopping together. She selected a beautiful blue and bronze sari, which she looked incredible in. We went to pick up our newly tailored clothes the next day. Of course we wanted to try them on to make sure they fit. We were assured by the store owner that they fit 100% guarantee. We insisted upon trying the clothes on. The tailor put us on his motorbike and drove us over to his workshop, where we were able to try on the clothes. Of course they didn’t fit. Elisa’s sleeves were too small, our scarves were missing, and the drawstring to my pants were also missing. Good thing we insisted!
    Every evening, after dinner, Elisa and I would duck out of the ashram into the deserted streets of Luxman Jula, and go to the office for evening tea. I would usually get mint, and Elisa ginger, lemon, honey. Language was a challenge as I didn’t speak German, and English wasn’t her first language. But we got by and enjoyed each others’ company. I was thankful to have her as my ashram buddy. Beautiful woman, beautiful presence, beautiful spirit.

NGO Matt

    We sat together and had tea one evening at Bandhari Swiss Cottage. Matt from America, well actually from all over. He grew up in South Africa; his parents were missionaries, but ultimately ended up residing in Tampa Bay Florida. He had spent many years being a very successful marketing executive working sixteen and seventeen hour days. Working all the time and accumulating a great deal of success. He came to a point where he realised was very unfulfilled. So he sold everything, traveled to India and started an NGO supporting local orphanages through marketing.
    Khusi Hona is the umbrella organization for orphanages in the province if Andrah Pradesh in southeast India. Matt took his marketing knowledge and experience and used it to gain international attention, sponsorship, and funding for the children of these orphanages. Not claiming any donations for himself Matt has spent the past two months building this NGO, spending time at the orphanages, and providing support in the ways he knows how. I further found out that his father is an author and has over 47 different books published on theology. A very interesting encounter indeed. 
khusihona.org

Tara from Winterpeg- Life Coach

    I met Tara in my Kathak dance class. On my first day of class she arrived late, but was the shinning star for the rest of us. She had been practising Kathak for a couple of weeks and as such was the senior student. It was her example that we were all to follow. She was also the only one in class that had the guingeroo, until I got mine a week later!
    Once I stepped up my game and also became an example in class did we speak more. Tara spends several months a year at the ashram. When she first arrived Swamiji just put her to work answering emails, and doing other administrative things for the ashram. She kept coming back as she enjoyed the ashram but also to lend her time and skills.
    After some time I found out that she works as a life coach in Winnipeg, Manitoba. She does offer her life coaching skills while in India at the ashram, but on a much more low key scale. I really enjoyed having her at the Kathak dance class with me. We would have a good laugh together, especially when we screwed up the dance moves and our guruji’s would give us hell. By the time I left I had a fondness for my fellow Kathak dancing, guingeroo wearing, Canadian. Again, always nice to have a buddy.

Dancing in Delhi

Dancing in Delhi

    I went to Delhi for the weekend as Dr.Vandana Shiva was speaking at a workshop on organic farming. I packed up all of my belongings, said good bye to Parmarth Niketan ashram and caught a government bus from Rishikesh to Delhi. One of the best things I have done since I have been in India is get a local phone!!! It took a lot of work and a couple of tries to get it sorted, but it is so great to have a cell. Especially when you are arriving in a huge city and want to be able to call the one person you know there! I arrived just after sun down, negotiated a rikshaw into the heart of Delhi, and arrived to meet Rachy, a good friend from back home, and the sister of one of my besties Tabitha!
    After dropping my belongings and washing the bus ride off Rachy and I went for a good meal. I had a Mexican dish, yes Mexican in India, doesn’t seem to be right. Then it was time to have a pre-party nap as we were going out to a reggae club. Rachy never ceases to amaze me. For one she always has a smile on her face. Whether she is eating, speaking, dancing, or probably even sleeping, she is smiling. It is wonderful and always brightens me up! Secondly Rachy always knows where the party is at. Whether she is flying into Calgary for the Snowblower show, hitting up Shambhala, or locating the best reggae scene in Delhi, she is on top of it and knows all the right people to enjoy the party with. Furthermore Rachy is an inspiration. Right now she is doing a three week placement at a hospital in Delhi. She is finishing up her fourth year of med school which is an entire year of doing placements at a hospital, or hospitals in Rachy’s case. She is lucky enough to have broken up her placements across the globe. Some of her placements include New Delhi, Churchill, Canmore, and maybe even Nicaragua. So impressive and incredible! I also love the duality that Rachy has. She works hard and knows how to play even harder. Its fabulous!
    Off we went to a reggae club in Haus Khaus. We got right in  because Racy knows everyone. I met a group of friends she has in Delhi. She met them last year when she couch surfed with them here in Delhi. The Dj was great, but a little frustrating as they wouldn’t play a whole song, or a consistent beat, for more than thirty seconds. Challenging for a girl who loves to dance and just wants to let it all out! Because of our pre-party nap Rachy and I got to the club just as the Dj was finishing up. Not a worry; Rachy’s friends had another party lined up; of course. Would I expect any less. We shuffled out to the street to grab some rikshaws. Our very large group jammed into four different riks, four per rik. Most had one person sitting on a lap. In our rikshaw were Christine and Dan, both from Europe and both working in Delhi. The pair, now a couple, met here in Delhi doing the same work exchange. Really lovely people.
    Our entourage of rikshaws scooted through the city. To be perfectly honest it seemed a little surreal, like I was in a movie or something. It actually reminded me of Midnight in Paris, when Owen Wilson gets picked up in the incredibly fancy cab, and takes off in it with a full party of people dressed in their finest, drinking wine and champagne. Indian rikshaws are not the same as a swank car from the twenties, but I am a simple gal and everything is relative.
    We arrived at a venue called The Garden of the Five Senses. The place was a dream. I couldn’t believe that it existed in the middle of dirty Delhi. It was a paradise; manicured lawns, landscaped gardens, flowers everywhere. We were arriving at a graduation party for a local college. Everyone was dressed in their finest clothes, the young women looked so glamorous and modern in their platform heels, and chic evening wear.
    We immediately made friends with one of the girls attending the graduation party. She actually wasn’t graduating but was the date of a guy who was. She was very sweet, from Germany I think. Working in Delhi, for a German company. Very friendly and interested in what Rachy and I were doing in Delhi. She had to run off shortly after chatting but I remember her final comments to Rachy and I “Good luck with your time at the hospital and you," she pointed to me, "come back to Delhi”. I had originally planned on being in Delhi only for the weekend, althpugh stayed for about a weeks' time after her request!

      Ruffus, one of the group from Delhi, took over the Dj booth and put some music on for us to dance to. The girls found a bag of ‘pageant’ banners. Each one with a different title “Miss Best Dressed”, “Miss Dance Queen”, “Mr.Hunk”, etc. The banner I was labeled with was “Miss Decent”, not entirely inappropriate as I didn’t take the time to ‘dress up’ and get ready for a club that night. I just wore the kourta I had traveled in from Rishikesh, so I did look “decent”, modest, and not in the least bit revealing or exposed!
    We danced at The Garden of Five Senses until it grew tired. As it turned out Rachy and I were not in the middle of Delhi, but, well actually I still don’t know where we were but it was very far from anything close by. Despite this we decided to find a way home. Leaving all senses behind, including common, we walked down a deserted road in search of a main one. Accompanied by two young India guys who seemed more bothered by our presence than appreciative we found a main street and a rikshaw to boot. We drove home and froze as Delhi is fairly warm during the day but cools off substantially at night. Plus rikshaws do not have sides to them, so 50km/creates quite the drafty breeze.
    Saturday night was a similar occurrence of events. Delicious dinner, pre-party nap, this night I actually took the time to get ready in ‘going out’ clothes, then we were off. I cannot remember the name of the place we went to but we got right in and drinks were free until 11pm. So we took advantage of that. Up until Delhi I had not been drinking alcohol at all. Before I left for India I had spent six weeks or more or visiting with friends and family where alcohol was commonly available. I figured that I should correct the balance once arriving in India and give it up for awhile. So taking advantage of free alcohol after not drinking it for over a month, not the wisest decision. Hahahaha!
    Needless to say we had a great night! I met new people, I also met the group from the night before and most of them didn’t recognize me, Hahahahha! Apparently I truly was Miss Decent the night before. But tonight I was not, I was probably Miss Dancing Queen. Dance we did. The music was great and it felt so good to shake it all off. I made friends with some local Indian girls before we got on the dance floor. I saw the three of them taking photos and I offered to take a group shot for them. Then I told them a tip that I learned from our dear Kim Kardashian; if you tilt your chin slightly down in photos you wont get a double chin. This group of girls really liked the tip and really liked me as the four of us tore it up all night!! I had so much fun with them!
    I left the floor to take a break and then became known as “Miss Canada”. One of the girls from the dance floor came up to me and complimented my dancing, then asked where I was from. I told her, to which she replied that she had been to Canada and loved it. Another guy overheard me say Brampton, which is where he had lived for awhile. All of a sudden I was surrounded by a GTA collective, right in the heart if Delhi. So cliché but the world is so small.
    When the club died down I opted out of the after party as Dr.Shiva was speaking the next day and I wasn’t going to miss it for the world. Rachy and I parted ways; I went back to the hotel to sleep, and Rachy went to the after party where she feel asleep, was forgotten about, and left behind at a farm house somewhere forty minutes or so outside of the city. I apparently made the right decision.
    Dancing in Delhi was a ball. It some respects it could have been Toronto with the mix of people, the life, the vibrancy, and the buzz that exists there. But it wasn’t. It was New Delhi, India, and a new experience for me. Just fabulous! Thanks Rachy, you are the eternal “Miss Dancing Queen”!