Life’s a beach !!!

    The past couple of weeks I have been fortunate enough to spend at the beach. I realize in being here that I haven’t had a strictly beach vacation in my adult years. Most of my vacations have been spent with family in Ontario, or roughing it traveling around third world countries. Arambol Goa is the beach I have been staying at and I had my doubts at first. Seems surprising considering a beach is a beach. When I arrived Arambol was crawling with tourists looking for the party/trance scene that Goa is so well known for. This is not what I was looking for. I was seeking a bit of an escape and break from the crazy tourist track as my time in Delhi and Agra had been a bit too much and I was just tired. Hesitations in hand I had agreed to come, take in some sun, the salty water, as well as wonderful Rachy and a group of friends from Delhi. Best decision ever !!!
    It has taken some time for me to unwind and simply relax, but I have gotten in to the groove and am not yet ready to leave. Life at the beach is amazing!! Within the first couple of days I was whipping around on a motorbike, partying till the week hours of the morning, eating fresh seafood and juices everyday, swimming in the Arabian Sea and just loving life again!
    Beach culture in Goa is fabulous. You do not have to worry about being too modest, wearing a bathing suit to the beach is completely acceptable. You do get attention from Indian men, but I have learned how to filter it a bit better, plus the fact that I am with a large group of people and have their protection. My day begins with slipping into my bathing suit and sarong and heading to the beach front restaurant to have a tomato, basil, bison mozzarella omelette and a fruit shake. Fabulous! Everyday the group organizes a trip to a different neighbouring beach, or some sort of adventure. Traveling in a pack of motor bikers we weave along the curvy Goan roads, the ocean sparkling in the distance. Rachy is a speed demon on the motorbike so we usually overtake everyone else in our pack. Although they do leave us in the dust sometimes. One day it is off to Anjuna to take in the sunset and play frisbee. Another day it is a ferry ride to Paradise beach.
    One afternoon Rachy and I were having a lazy time at our favorite hangout “pies and love” when we got a text from the group saying they were going to Vagator for sushi. We packed up and set out. We kind of knew the way, but not really. Shortly after making a wrong turn our motorbike ran out of fuel. Holding the spirit of Tabitha and laughing with it, Rachy and I sauntered down the road in search of petrol. A very nice man picked me up to take me to the gas station. Upon arriving I chugged down a one liter bottle of water so we could fill it with petrol. We filled up and set off only to go much farther south than needed. We got to the town of Mapusa, which is where I had gotten one of my original buses to take me to Arambol, so I knew we were too far. Again asking for directions is always a task. We found out the general direction we were supposed to take. Poor Rachy was trying to navigate through Mapusa, which is a bigger, busier city. A little frazzled we were circling a roundabout when we came upon a cow lost in the roundabout as well. As if we needed anything else to add to our journey. With a little more patience and perseverance we made it past the cow, through the roundabout and back on our way to Vagator.

     Of course there are two ‘Vagators’; small and big. Asking for the sushi restaurant didn’t help either. Amazingly enough we found our friends, and the restaurant, and enjoyed a lovely sushi dinner, with a power outage to boot. Hahhahahah. Our way back was much smoother and included a game of motorbike tag. Soo much fun!
    The holidays in and of themselves were absolutely incredible. Christmas eve was a night to remember. Our group has twenty people or so. Tables crammed together our large group spread out on the evening beach with all things alive and moving around us. Evening barbeques are set up with the catch of the day. There are bins of fresh fish, squid, prawns, baby shark, and any other seafood you can imagine. You select the fish that you would like for dinner and they grill it up for you right there on the spot! Six of us purchased the largest fish they had and shared it together. Amazing! There in the sand with fireworks going off overhead we feasted like kings and celebrated little baby Jesus’ birth. At one point we realized we had representation from sixteen different countries; Canada, India, Afghanistan, Australia, France, Germany, Turkey, Russia, Senegal, Portugal, Brazil, Norway, Sweden, Israel, Colombia, and Argentina. Pretty impressive and absolutely incredible. If Jesus were to represent anything it was love for all peoples from all places.
    New Years Eve was equally enjoyable as our group had arranged a private, white party at our guest house. Ruffus was going to be the dj for the event. Once the sun had gone down behind the ocean horizon, decked out in our finest white attire, one by one we arrived to celebrate the evening and bring the new year in together. Everyone in a great mood and properly clothed in our beachy attire. We danced like it was 1999, shouted, and cheered when the ball dropped and the clock hit 12am, midnight. Champagne bottles were opened and sprayed over the crowd. Fireworks going off all up and down the beach, the music pumping. On top of it all I had my dear friend Rachy there to bring in the new year and not only one person to kiss at midnight but a whole group!!! One of my favorite moments of the night was tearing it up, dancing like crazy in the sand, and Rachy yelling across to me “Steph, you’re a mother fucking rock star”! To which I replied “no, you’re a mother fucking rock star”! A night I will never forget and will be eternally grateful for!
    Ultimately my time at the beach has taught me that life is a beach. If you chose to take a step back, relax, breath in the fresh air, taste the salty ocean water, and absorb all the beauty and benefits of the energizing sun life can be pretty darn great!

Happy New Year Everyone! May 2013 bring much success, happiness, and fulfillment as love shines down on us all!

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!

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!

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!