Alright, I'm really going to miss India. I love this country SO much. And I've barely even had a taste of it. Where else do you see oil tankers painted with flowers and "Life is Love" on the back? I mean, that in and of itself is a good enough reason to love this place.
I had an amazing final weekend in Manali/Vashisht. The drive was magnificently gorgeous, with clouds sitting low in the hilltops and the river foaming in tiny rapids to the right of us. And then our driver got lost. Which ended up being really hilarious. We were staying at Hotel Sarahbi, but he kept on stopping every two minutes to ask where "Hotel Salami" was, and I kept on having to yell out the window to correct him "No, Hotel SAH-RAH-BI!" and everyone would give me a puzzled look and be like "Which one?"
We did eventually make it there, and were SO lucky because there was a live music show on their rooftop cafe - a man on a sitar and another on the tablas (an amazing drum indigenous to India that can make the sound of dripping water drops). They stopped performing somewhat early, and it turned into open mic night. A few British fellows from Cambridge, who we ended up befriending later on in the night, went up to play some songs like "Wonderwall" (big surprise there) and that Chris Isaac song "I want to fall in love". Then, my friend Jenna (who is a PHENOMENAL singer) went up to perform, and everyone was enchanted by her voice. It was wonderful.
The next morning we got up early to go on an ambitious hike. Our aim was to make it to the top of the waterfall, which is snuggled in between cliff-like boulders, and has no apparent trail. And I'll let you know right now, we did not make it to the very top. But things did get pretty crazy. We inched our way around ledges with one possible slip guaranteeing a twenty foot fall. We climbed up slippery boulders as if we were rock-climbing with a rope. We made our way up slopes so steep that I had my whole body pressed against the grass with my nose buried in the delightful scent of wild thyme and my hands clenched around it like I was about to pull out a chunk of someone's hair. I got stung by nettles and cut up against rocks from falling once. And I had one of the best times of my entire life. We got real high up, but there was a point where it seemed like a fruitless struggle, so we just relaxed in the shade for a bit and settled our minds on the Himalayan mountains before us. My words can never do justice to the beauty that I experienced on that mountain, so really, I won't even try. I'll just recommend that you go there and see it for yourself. It wasn't just the four of us humans conquering this beast of a hike either, we picked up a friend along the way in town. The sweetest dog with a broken foot started to follow us, and we walked slowly with her for awhile, occasionally petting her. No way would I have believed at that point that this wounded dog would end up with us way up on that mountain top. I named her Shanti ("Peace" in sanskrit), and she stuck with us the whole entire hike, oftentimes running way ahead of us in the most steep of parts. She was some sort of miracle. We contemplated trying to get her through customs and back to the states, but I guess she just wanted a good hike out of us, because when we got to the bottom we somehow lost her amidst our scramble to purchase water bottles at a cafe. We got about fifty pictures of her though.
That hike put me in the greatest mood I could possibly be in. The kind of mood where you're in love with every square inch of existence. I also felt unlimited energy. We got back to the room and I started getting into all sorts of asanas, then doing sit ups and sun salutations and even some arm strength stuff. My new love in life is most certainly hiking. You just commune with nature on such an intimate and personal level.
We showered and headed to Old Manali, where we met Joni. And that is a whole story in and of itself. After checking out a temple and some shops (one in which I bought awesome socks made of angora wool and done in the local style, and the other which sold beautiful paintings and the owner described the meaning behind twenty or so of them), we went into a drum store. Immediately upon stepping in, the owner perked up and shoved drum after drum into our hands, animatedly explaining what they're made of and encouraging us to try them out. Camel skin and mango tree wood here, jackfruit tree wood and yak skin there. He started to give me a makeshift lesson on a djembe circumscribed by yak wool. Then he performed on the tablas and sang a punjabi song - yet another live musical performance. He bought us all chai tea, and we ended up staying in there for a good hour playing drums and singing Bob Marley's "Everything's gonna be alright" upon his request for us to sing. One of us even ended up doing a free-style rap to Joni's playing the tablas.
I had read in Lonely Planet about how Manali is known for its "forest raves", and was instantly compelled to experience one. I didn't realize it would be so ridiculously easy. By the time Saturday night rolled around, ten or so different people had told me about it - Joni being one of them. He claimed he knew exactly how to get there, and then somewhat imposed himself upon us to go out for dinner beforehand. He took us to his favorite restaurant, The Lazy Dog, where I had a delicious traditional Korean meal, then we had some drinks with a whole continental smattering - Italians, Spaniards, Brits, Israelis and a couple Aussies. We were the only Americans. And it makes me feel a bit ridiculous how everyone switches around from language to language and I just know a bit of French. It made me feel so - American. It's so easy for us to get away with just knowing English. I feel a bit more motivated to really learn French, and possibly more languages. If only I weren't so dreadfully inept at learning new languages. Anyways, it was interesting to get all those perspectives together around a table and just share in the pleasure of being in India. At around 12:30, we finally galvanized the group into heading out to the rave, or "trance party" as most called it.
I think the best part was the getting there. We hiked up (yes, I am going to have the nicest leg muscles ever upon my return to US) for a good mile to get to this party at the top of the mountain. It was pitch black and we had a few people guiding us with cell phones, but I really do have horrible night vision, so I was pretty much blindly hiking up this rocky steep path with sheer determination to experience a rave in India. The rave was a bit more touristly-tinted than I had anticipated, about 50-50 tourist and locals. The music was heavy trance-thumping and fun to dance to for a bit, but then I was definitely ready to head back down. I ended up talking to a local originally from Kashmir for awhile, and he had an interesting perspective on things. He emphasized how important family is to him and talked about how close he is to his four sisters, which was really touching to hear. He's only 24 and owns a shop in Manali. I love talking to the people who live here, especially my contemporaries, and just seeing how different life is for them in certain ways, but how essentially we're all after the same thing - Love.
While heading back down the mountain, we took a break on a huge rock jutting out over the valley below. I couldn't believe that I was at that spot in that moment, it felt very chimerical, with the river shining white against the dark mountains' outlines, and lightning flashing through the foggy air off in the distance. We spent some time in Joni's shop eating pastries and waiting for the sun to rise so we could start walking the 2 km back to Vashisht. Fortunately, a young man stopped his car when we waved him down and took us back to our hotel (rickshaws and taxis weren't running this early in the morning). We made it back to our hotel at 6 in the morning and passed out - but now I can say I hiked up a mountain to get to a rave in India.
The next day, we had planned on rock climbing, but I was far too exhausted, and I don't think my legs could have handled it. I just had a nice breakfast by myself on the roof top cafe and then got my ayurvedic massage, which involved a LOT of oils, and brushing my body like its clearing off the bad energy. Overall - stupendous weekend. Strangely enough, the three others got horribly sick with a bad fever and stomach thing, and I'm pretty pooped but perfectly healthy - or else my doom is impending. We shall see.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
July 21, 2009
I was talking with the CCS translator, a woman of 20 years from Palampur who is absolutely gorgeous and very sweet, during her visit to my daycare yesterday. She was there to ask Swadesh, the teacher, a few questions on what she though about CCS and the volunteers (namely me). I asked her how the survey went, and the translator began exuding compliments, forcing the point that I had done "too much good". All the parents have been commenting on how pleased they are with me there, and how the kids are more eager to go to daycare now. The teacher feels immense relief at not having to deal with all the kids by herself. Apparently, I've also been revealing new teaching methods to her. I was taken aback by all of this. I could gage that the parents were permissive of my presence at their children's daycare, and some even extended snips of attempted English and huge smiles from time to time, but I had no idea that everyone was so pleased with me to that great of an extent. I always figured (and desperately hoped) that my presence and energy would have at least a wee bit of positive impact, but from the way the translator was gushing on and on, it occurred to me that my presence at that daycare is a HUGE deal. I really wanted to start crying right then and there. I felt so thankful. I felt so blessed. I felt so in my loving.
I just want to give more and more of myself to these people and their children. And if that means inhaling my frustration and holding it in a knot in my stomach when I'm trying to teach a child to add and I still can't get it across in English, then I'll do that. If it means completely abandoning any self dignity and running around with my arms out like an airplane making strange noises, then so be it. If it means getting virtually the best arm workout of my life lifting kid after kid up in the air and flying them around with their legs kicking and their bellies busting out laughter, then I'll do that. If it means doing everything in my power to attend to a crying kid in my lap while drawing a "meow" for another to color in and exclaiming "acha!" (good!) to every kid's drawing and intermittently passing back a ball to another kid with equal enthuse, then I will do all that. Every time I realize I'm sitting there with a blank look of fatigue on my face, completely motionless and trying to gather up my energy again, I immediately snap out of it because so what if I'm a little short of breath and ideas? Those kids are constantly throwing their energy at me, and I'm going to give it back full force. Every morning that I wish I had downed two cups of coffee before placement (and I don't even drink coffee anymore...) I use that little irritance as an opportunity to realize that what I'm doing here is about so much more than just myself and my own petty moment-to-moment desires. I can acknowledge when I'm thinking: "Ew, my pants just got completely covered in chalk dust and snot" or "I would do anything to make this child stop tugging on my shirt for attention" or "jesus, I'm sweating like a man through my nice dress shirts and all the women are asking me why I'm sweating like this" and just step off that train of thought and say "No, thank you. I don't need to ride this". I propel my thoughts beyond the likes of those to ones like "How can I make these next 3 hours even more exciting and stimulating for these kids?" ... what can I bring to this moment that will make smiles? Making smiles. I just want to be in the business of making smiles.
On the cultural side of things, I had quite the experience last Thursday. We went to visit another nearby Buddhist monastery. I just can't get enough of these excursions. Every time I'm in a Buddhist setting I immediately feel It. The indescribable elation at being a part of existence. And we got a real treat on this visit. The monks were doing their monthly incantation to the goddess Kali - who destroys all of existence while simultaneously being the mother of existence. I think this is an accurate portrayal of her, but I'll check to verify. Anyways, we got to sit in the temple during the chanting, and even after my friends got up to walk around a bit, I couldn't resist staying in there through the whole thing. It was powerful stuff. They hit huge gongs and blew trumpets and clapped hands and seemed to dish out all sorts of cacophony in a very fitting manner for how I'd feel like I would want to address Kali. It was a sort of haphazard melody that I imagined rattling the huge golden Buddha statue and whipping around through the monk's red robes, throwing itself against the walls of my heart. Afterwards as the monks filed out, I smiled at as many as I could to see how many I could get to smile back. I decidedly LOVE smiling monks. They present you with a smile like its a four course meal that they've spent all day slaving over. This is no casual muscle twitch, this is the full serving of love that makes its way through the corners of their lips and through their soft eyes and through their entire posture. So I'm a little fiendy over monk smiles, I just can't get enough.
I happened to get a few more on yet another weekend excursion to Mcleod Ganj in Dharamsala. I hadn't yet seen the Dalai Lama's residence - which is kinda a big deal. But also not so stunning. There's a couple rooms to peek around in, with their huge statues and wall paintings and the whole deal. Perhaps I'm a bit desensitized to it all now. What I was more entertained by was the debates going on in the courtyard. I've heard tell of these dynamic Tibetan Buddhist debates, but it is quite the sight to behold in person. The monks hold their prayer beads and clap their hands together like they're violently smacking a mosquito between their hands throughout their making a point. They rock back and forth and speak with an obvious conviction that bypasses any language barriers. If only I knew what they were saying ...
One part of that excursion that especially stuck out to me was the visit to the museum. It's a bit embarrassing to admit, but I honestly knew hardly anything about the Tibetan's plight after the Chinese occupation. Well, I learned a good dose of it in the fifteen or so minutes I spent in that museum, walking along reading the placards besides pictures (which usually were even more telling than the written descriptions), and watching a film which showed footage from the "cultural revolution" in the 80s and various Tibetans who had undergone the horrific experience - their faces contorted into the muscles' begrudging remembrance. There were a few pictures of prominent Tibetans with quotes on what they thought about the probability of Tibet receiving its justice and freedom. One particular quote stood out noticeably for me, and I even took a picture of it. The quote reads: "The law of karma is undecievable. After suffering the consequences of our bad karma I think that we will regain our Independence under the guidance of His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama. I request all the Tibetans to be united and keep the flame of struggle for our freedom." There was a ledger for visitors to sign, and once I got that pen in my hand, I knew exactly what I had to say: "Compassion is our true nature. May Tibet continue to be a beautiful example of this, and may Tibet be freed. Love, Erin Dellinger". Leaving that bit of myself in that book means a great deal to me. It felt like one of the most truthful things I have ever written.
After that culturally valuable experience (and some gift shopping for my lovely family and friends), the night got a bit wilder. First, we sat on a rooftop and had a few drinks while watching the sun set over the Himalayans. Just that sentence alone sounds really great - but it gets better. I had spotted a bright green flyer earlier in the day for live Tibetan music at a restaurant that very night - traditional Tibetan vegetarian buffet included - so of course we had to go check it out. We arrived a bit late and made our way to some empty seats in the back - and the energy of the place was not what I had expected at all. Maybe I though that things would be a bit looser, people walking around and chatting and occasionally side-glancing at the performers. But no, everyone had their whole bodies placated in rapt attention by the elderly Tibetan woman singing in the front of the room - I mean, even their elbows and eyebrows were giving it their 100% attention, I swear. Not one thought other than complete emotional concordance with this woman's voice could have been pecking around in anyone's mind. I took on her pitch in my heart chords, I felt everything she had given me to feel - I knew her story without knowing the words. She was singing compassion. There were two Tibetan men with her, one with a drum and the other with a guitar. The whole thing was perfect and ended far too soon. But when she suggested that those who could hold off on the buffet go downstairs to join in traditional Tibetan dancing, I knew that's exactly where I would be within the next two minutes - on the dance floor. And things got pretty hilarious. We all joined hands in a circle and imitated her footsteps. It became a sort of version of line dancing that broke into complete chaos - with all us laughing Westerners just doing everything we could to keep our feet moving in the ways hers were - and failing miserably. So we started wiggling our arms loosely and just stomping our feet around in shuffles. I don't think I'd laughed that hard and consistently for a very long time. And don't worry, there's video footage of this spectacle. So after that day in Mcleod Ganj, I can say that I feel a much stronger connection with Tibet and its culture. And damnit, Tibet will receive justice.
The next day we hiked to a waterfall where we were once again assaulted by people wanting to take pictures of us and asking "Which country? which Country?" feverishly. Always responding with: "We are from US". "US" somehow gets through easier than "America" or "United States" or "the states". The waterfall inspired me to write a lovely little poem, I'll include it here for kicks:
The supine startle of a waterfall
in chortles that fell
clear round bare ankles
and swallowed the heat from skin.
The rocks in jig-sawed shards in
All That Fortitude
they still erode away
(away away)
erroneously thinking they'll be our
stepping stones for
Ever.
And Ever did I perch myself upon one,
spright and beak-nosed
against the mountains line.
A valley of people and rocks,
Not one more inert than the other.
(My face lifted into a smile)
A bit later that day, four of us attended a "cooking class" in a small roof-top restaurant. It ended up being just us four, which seemed something like a blessing as we were cramped together into a little kitchen. The chef epitomized the term "smiling eyes", as he guided us through the preparation of yellow dal (lentils with tomatoes and onions), fried okra, and halal (a sort of sweet couscous with nuts and dried fruit). I was super hungry throughout this whole thing and kept on picking at raw okra bits while trying to keep up with his instructions so as to write everything down for future reference. I would love to become an awesome chef of Indian cuisine. After our meal, we waited for our friend to get a massage (I plan on getting an Ayurvedic massage in Vashish this weekend, which I am WAY Excited about) in a little cafe, where I sipped ginger lemon honey tea (my new favorite drink) and wrote a few more poems. It began to monsoon while we were in there, which was pleasant. I watched through the windows as the rain hiccuped into street bubbles and the mountains gracefully dissipated behind sheets of white rain. But then we had to go out there. And sans umbrella. I thought I could handle it, but as soon as I stepped out of the cafe, a shop keeper across the street saw me and yelled out "Umbrella!" and I immediately thought to myself "OKAY!" and dashed over to him. It was pretty exciting stuff - the streets were flooding, and seeing as everything is on a hill, the streets were not only flooding, but cascading about in mini rapids. The umbrella did a bit of damage control, but I found myself wading through these rivers, and laughing the whole time. I like monsoons.
I just want to give more and more of myself to these people and their children. And if that means inhaling my frustration and holding it in a knot in my stomach when I'm trying to teach a child to add and I still can't get it across in English, then I'll do that. If it means completely abandoning any self dignity and running around with my arms out like an airplane making strange noises, then so be it. If it means getting virtually the best arm workout of my life lifting kid after kid up in the air and flying them around with their legs kicking and their bellies busting out laughter, then I'll do that. If it means doing everything in my power to attend to a crying kid in my lap while drawing a "meow" for another to color in and exclaiming "acha!" (good!) to every kid's drawing and intermittently passing back a ball to another kid with equal enthuse, then I will do all that. Every time I realize I'm sitting there with a blank look of fatigue on my face, completely motionless and trying to gather up my energy again, I immediately snap out of it because so what if I'm a little short of breath and ideas? Those kids are constantly throwing their energy at me, and I'm going to give it back full force. Every morning that I wish I had downed two cups of coffee before placement (and I don't even drink coffee anymore...) I use that little irritance as an opportunity to realize that what I'm doing here is about so much more than just myself and my own petty moment-to-moment desires. I can acknowledge when I'm thinking: "Ew, my pants just got completely covered in chalk dust and snot" or "I would do anything to make this child stop tugging on my shirt for attention" or "jesus, I'm sweating like a man through my nice dress shirts and all the women are asking me why I'm sweating like this" and just step off that train of thought and say "No, thank you. I don't need to ride this". I propel my thoughts beyond the likes of those to ones like "How can I make these next 3 hours even more exciting and stimulating for these kids?" ... what can I bring to this moment that will make smiles? Making smiles. I just want to be in the business of making smiles.
On the cultural side of things, I had quite the experience last Thursday. We went to visit another nearby Buddhist monastery. I just can't get enough of these excursions. Every time I'm in a Buddhist setting I immediately feel It. The indescribable elation at being a part of existence. And we got a real treat on this visit. The monks were doing their monthly incantation to the goddess Kali - who destroys all of existence while simultaneously being the mother of existence. I think this is an accurate portrayal of her, but I'll check to verify. Anyways, we got to sit in the temple during the chanting, and even after my friends got up to walk around a bit, I couldn't resist staying in there through the whole thing. It was powerful stuff. They hit huge gongs and blew trumpets and clapped hands and seemed to dish out all sorts of cacophony in a very fitting manner for how I'd feel like I would want to address Kali. It was a sort of haphazard melody that I imagined rattling the huge golden Buddha statue and whipping around through the monk's red robes, throwing itself against the walls of my heart. Afterwards as the monks filed out, I smiled at as many as I could to see how many I could get to smile back. I decidedly LOVE smiling monks. They present you with a smile like its a four course meal that they've spent all day slaving over. This is no casual muscle twitch, this is the full serving of love that makes its way through the corners of their lips and through their soft eyes and through their entire posture. So I'm a little fiendy over monk smiles, I just can't get enough.
I happened to get a few more on yet another weekend excursion to Mcleod Ganj in Dharamsala. I hadn't yet seen the Dalai Lama's residence - which is kinda a big deal. But also not so stunning. There's a couple rooms to peek around in, with their huge statues and wall paintings and the whole deal. Perhaps I'm a bit desensitized to it all now. What I was more entertained by was the debates going on in the courtyard. I've heard tell of these dynamic Tibetan Buddhist debates, but it is quite the sight to behold in person. The monks hold their prayer beads and clap their hands together like they're violently smacking a mosquito between their hands throughout their making a point. They rock back and forth and speak with an obvious conviction that bypasses any language barriers. If only I knew what they were saying ...
One part of that excursion that especially stuck out to me was the visit to the museum. It's a bit embarrassing to admit, but I honestly knew hardly anything about the Tibetan's plight after the Chinese occupation. Well, I learned a good dose of it in the fifteen or so minutes I spent in that museum, walking along reading the placards besides pictures (which usually were even more telling than the written descriptions), and watching a film which showed footage from the "cultural revolution" in the 80s and various Tibetans who had undergone the horrific experience - their faces contorted into the muscles' begrudging remembrance. There were a few pictures of prominent Tibetans with quotes on what they thought about the probability of Tibet receiving its justice and freedom. One particular quote stood out noticeably for me, and I even took a picture of it. The quote reads: "The law of karma is undecievable. After suffering the consequences of our bad karma I think that we will regain our Independence under the guidance of His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama. I request all the Tibetans to be united and keep the flame of struggle for our freedom." There was a ledger for visitors to sign, and once I got that pen in my hand, I knew exactly what I had to say: "Compassion is our true nature. May Tibet continue to be a beautiful example of this, and may Tibet be freed. Love, Erin Dellinger". Leaving that bit of myself in that book means a great deal to me. It felt like one of the most truthful things I have ever written.
After that culturally valuable experience (and some gift shopping for my lovely family and friends), the night got a bit wilder. First, we sat on a rooftop and had a few drinks while watching the sun set over the Himalayans. Just that sentence alone sounds really great - but it gets better. I had spotted a bright green flyer earlier in the day for live Tibetan music at a restaurant that very night - traditional Tibetan vegetarian buffet included - so of course we had to go check it out. We arrived a bit late and made our way to some empty seats in the back - and the energy of the place was not what I had expected at all. Maybe I though that things would be a bit looser, people walking around and chatting and occasionally side-glancing at the performers. But no, everyone had their whole bodies placated in rapt attention by the elderly Tibetan woman singing in the front of the room - I mean, even their elbows and eyebrows were giving it their 100% attention, I swear. Not one thought other than complete emotional concordance with this woman's voice could have been pecking around in anyone's mind. I took on her pitch in my heart chords, I felt everything she had given me to feel - I knew her story without knowing the words. She was singing compassion. There were two Tibetan men with her, one with a drum and the other with a guitar. The whole thing was perfect and ended far too soon. But when she suggested that those who could hold off on the buffet go downstairs to join in traditional Tibetan dancing, I knew that's exactly where I would be within the next two minutes - on the dance floor. And things got pretty hilarious. We all joined hands in a circle and imitated her footsteps. It became a sort of version of line dancing that broke into complete chaos - with all us laughing Westerners just doing everything we could to keep our feet moving in the ways hers were - and failing miserably. So we started wiggling our arms loosely and just stomping our feet around in shuffles. I don't think I'd laughed that hard and consistently for a very long time. And don't worry, there's video footage of this spectacle. So after that day in Mcleod Ganj, I can say that I feel a much stronger connection with Tibet and its culture. And damnit, Tibet will receive justice.
The next day we hiked to a waterfall where we were once again assaulted by people wanting to take pictures of us and asking "Which country? which Country?" feverishly. Always responding with: "We are from US". "US" somehow gets through easier than "America" or "United States" or "the states". The waterfall inspired me to write a lovely little poem, I'll include it here for kicks:
The supine startle of a waterfall
in chortles that fell
clear round bare ankles
and swallowed the heat from skin.
The rocks in jig-sawed shards in
All That Fortitude
they still erode away
(away away)
erroneously thinking they'll be our
stepping stones for
Ever.
And Ever did I perch myself upon one,
spright and beak-nosed
against the mountains line.
A valley of people and rocks,
Not one more inert than the other.
(My face lifted into a smile)
A bit later that day, four of us attended a "cooking class" in a small roof-top restaurant. It ended up being just us four, which seemed something like a blessing as we were cramped together into a little kitchen. The chef epitomized the term "smiling eyes", as he guided us through the preparation of yellow dal (lentils with tomatoes and onions), fried okra, and halal (a sort of sweet couscous with nuts and dried fruit). I was super hungry throughout this whole thing and kept on picking at raw okra bits while trying to keep up with his instructions so as to write everything down for future reference. I would love to become an awesome chef of Indian cuisine. After our meal, we waited for our friend to get a massage (I plan on getting an Ayurvedic massage in Vashish this weekend, which I am WAY Excited about) in a little cafe, where I sipped ginger lemon honey tea (my new favorite drink) and wrote a few more poems. It began to monsoon while we were in there, which was pleasant. I watched through the windows as the rain hiccuped into street bubbles and the mountains gracefully dissipated behind sheets of white rain. But then we had to go out there. And sans umbrella. I thought I could handle it, but as soon as I stepped out of the cafe, a shop keeper across the street saw me and yelled out "Umbrella!" and I immediately thought to myself "OKAY!" and dashed over to him. It was pretty exciting stuff - the streets were flooding, and seeing as everything is on a hill, the streets were not only flooding, but cascading about in mini rapids. The umbrella did a bit of damage control, but I found myself wading through these rivers, and laughing the whole time. I like monsoons.
Friday, July 17, 2009
July 16, 2009
My kids are really touching a soft spot in my heart. I feel like I'm starting to experience things from their perspective when I'm around them, and I should carry that perspective outside of my volunteering as well. There's a room that still needs to be remodeled, but we go in there anyways to have more space for running around. In the corner, there are two huge empty metal cylindrical things, of whose purpose I am most unaware, but the kids love to go behind them and wait for me to realize they're there, and then I tap the sides and make noises and chase them around it. They just giggle and scream and run all around and it makes me SO freaking happy. I've also started picking them up and making weird noses like an airplane while "flying" them around. They all push each other out of the way to try to get the next turn, and they'll stick my hands under their armpits to let me know they want a turn. After picking up ten kids in row I get prettttty exhausted, and that's when it gets rough, because they will force my hands around them and not budge. Yet I knowingly put myself in that situation every time because they love it so much. There was a long period today when I had their rapt attention - this is very rare. It was after a few rounds of ring around the rosie, which still thrills them all. They were just standing there staring at me as if waiting for a command. So I started giving random commands like "sit down" "stand up" "jump on one foot" "fly like an airplane" "run", and just alternated amongst all of these for awhile. Then we did bolo this bolo that. I just made up that name for it. Basically, you say bolo as a command for "speak", so I would go through all the body parts of "bolo eyes", "bolo shoulders" etc. I try to make it interesting and shake my shoulders and wiggle my ears and such. A lot of keeping their attention is dependent upon the tone of voice you use. I actually end up exerting so much energy just talking and moving with so much extra enthusiasm. It's totally worth it though when I get their enthusiastic responses. Today, the kids got a huge kick out of this whole act I put on of trying to touch a salamander. It was scurrying across the crack between the wall and the ceiling, and I was jumping up and down to try and touch it, and when I jumped up it would move a little. Every time it moved they all squealed and shrieked and cracked up. It was absolutely hilarious. Then they started pulling around this little bench for me to stand on when the salamander got smart and inched up higher. This went on for a very long time and eventually I just had to stop on my own accord.
Perhaps the greatest frustration for me is when they hit each other. I can say "ruko" firmly, which is "stop", or just "nahee" which is "no", but they still don't really listen to me. The teachers sort of encourage hitting, and smack the kids in the face if they do something wrong. It doesn't seem like a very painful smack, but it still freaks me out. And it's not like I can tell the teacher "don't do that". I've heard from the volunteers at the schools that kids get smacked and whipped all the time. It's definitely disconcerting.
A few older kids have been coming by, ranging from ages 8 to 12, and they know more conversational English, so that's a different sort of experience for me. An 8 year old boy drew me this really cute picture, and then him and this other girl came up to me and said "Ma'am, you are very beautiful". I get that a lot from the older kids, and they all call me "ma'am". I've had flocks of ten come over after school just to say hello and stare at me. I guess these sort of situations would usually be considered awkward, but I think it's really cute and amusing. I make a point to ask everyone their name and repeat it after they tell me, even though I worry I'm messing up the pronunciation half the time. One girl invited me over to her house today. A week ago, I was invited by another couple of girls for tea at their house, which was quite nice.
I love how well I know most of the kids at my day care now, and all their individual personalities. Gun gun (pronounced goon goon) is this adorable pudgy little girl who loves picking up after everyone, putting everything (especially chalk) into her mouth, and holding hands with me while we dance. She's also a huge fan of ring around the rosie and when she wants to play she yells "ringa ringa". Ayush is this quirky little boy whose really shy half of the time and really outspoken the other half. He likes to puff up his cheeks and then push the air out and make weird sounds - he'll just sit around doing that for awhile. He holds my hand and sits in my lap a lot. Nitu is a super intelligent child who can pick up on things in a snap. We've developed this game together in which he shouts at me "bato!" (which is sit) and points to a little bench. I sit on the end and pretend to not want to move, and then he picks up the other end and I fall off. This involves pretending as though he can actually lift me, when really I'm just standing up a bit and falling over. This game is a tricky one to get out of though, because once we start playing, I'll have to sit down and fall off a good ten times before he's satisfied. Vonsoo is a precious, doll-like girl who cries at random times, but has the sweetest personality. When she cries I hold her on my lap and try to think of things to distract her. The simplest things make her happy - like the other day I would hold her hands and she would stand up on a chair and then come back down and we'd repeat this many a time. She also likes when I toss her a ball, and she won't catch it on purpose, and then giggle while holding her hands to her face. Ahh she melts my heart this girl. These four are the regulars who I've gotten to know the best, and they're the youngest, not even three yet. I'll be giving more personality profiles on the other kids later.
Perhaps the greatest frustration for me is when they hit each other. I can say "ruko" firmly, which is "stop", or just "nahee" which is "no", but they still don't really listen to me. The teachers sort of encourage hitting, and smack the kids in the face if they do something wrong. It doesn't seem like a very painful smack, but it still freaks me out. And it's not like I can tell the teacher "don't do that". I've heard from the volunteers at the schools that kids get smacked and whipped all the time. It's definitely disconcerting.
A few older kids have been coming by, ranging from ages 8 to 12, and they know more conversational English, so that's a different sort of experience for me. An 8 year old boy drew me this really cute picture, and then him and this other girl came up to me and said "Ma'am, you are very beautiful". I get that a lot from the older kids, and they all call me "ma'am". I've had flocks of ten come over after school just to say hello and stare at me. I guess these sort of situations would usually be considered awkward, but I think it's really cute and amusing. I make a point to ask everyone their name and repeat it after they tell me, even though I worry I'm messing up the pronunciation half the time. One girl invited me over to her house today. A week ago, I was invited by another couple of girls for tea at their house, which was quite nice.
I love how well I know most of the kids at my day care now, and all their individual personalities. Gun gun (pronounced goon goon) is this adorable pudgy little girl who loves picking up after everyone, putting everything (especially chalk) into her mouth, and holding hands with me while we dance. She's also a huge fan of ring around the rosie and when she wants to play she yells "ringa ringa". Ayush is this quirky little boy whose really shy half of the time and really outspoken the other half. He likes to puff up his cheeks and then push the air out and make weird sounds - he'll just sit around doing that for awhile. He holds my hand and sits in my lap a lot. Nitu is a super intelligent child who can pick up on things in a snap. We've developed this game together in which he shouts at me "bato!" (which is sit) and points to a little bench. I sit on the end and pretend to not want to move, and then he picks up the other end and I fall off. This involves pretending as though he can actually lift me, when really I'm just standing up a bit and falling over. This game is a tricky one to get out of though, because once we start playing, I'll have to sit down and fall off a good ten times before he's satisfied. Vonsoo is a precious, doll-like girl who cries at random times, but has the sweetest personality. When she cries I hold her on my lap and try to think of things to distract her. The simplest things make her happy - like the other day I would hold her hands and she would stand up on a chair and then come back down and we'd repeat this many a time. She also likes when I toss her a ball, and she won't catch it on purpose, and then giggle while holding her hands to her face. Ahh she melts my heart this girl. These four are the regulars who I've gotten to know the best, and they're the youngest, not even three yet. I'll be giving more personality profiles on the other kids later.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
july 13, 2009
Well, I know it's been a ridiculously long time since I last wrote anything, so I'll try my best to muster up all my memory of the past couple weeks. It's amusing to read the part about Om namah shivaya in my last entry because now I have it permanently on my body (sorry mom). We were driving back from Mcloud Ganj the night after I wrote that entry and an awesome reggae song started playing in the taxi, -except it was like a mix of reggae and India-sounding music - and in it they were chanting om namah shivaya. And I realized that I wanted those words to become a part of me in a physically sanctified way. I always knew that I wanted a tattoo but nothing ever spoke to me in quite the way that this mantra does. Because it is a mantra for self realization, I felt that it would be most conducive to my own self realization if tattooed onto the back of my neck on my throat chakra - so that it's a constant reminder of how my own journey of self realization is focused around creativity and communication (throat chakra qualities). My friend wanted a tattoo of the tibetan om symbol, so we both went to get them done in Mcloud Ganj last monday. A really nice man named Ashok gave us the tattoos, and it actually barely hurt and instead gave me this intense body high and meditative feeling like I could just lift out of my body if I really wanted to... I liked it a little too much. I must be wary of becoming addicted to getting tattoos. Or else I could end up with mantras all over my body.
Anyways. It was a really awesome experience to get a sanskrit mantra that resonates with me on such an intense level in the land from which it originated. Last weekend we went on our first weekend excursion to Amritsar and spent the Fourth of July at the Pakistani border - a situation I was a bit amused by. They have this ceremony every night in which huge crowds gather on either side of the gated border in stadium style seating and cheer in response to a sort of MC who leads the whole thing, while a few soldiers go through this whole process of marching the flags to the gate and greeting the Pakistani soldiers. It's a pretty big deal and people got quite riled up. They also have this "VIP" section, for which you show your passport, and if you're a westerner you get put in the best seats. I'm not exactly sure why they do this, but it amused me. The BEST part though was right before the actual ceremony - during which a huge dance party took place. Girls only. I'm sure we made the guys jealous. Because it was awesome. All the Indian women and girls started dancing to Punjabi music and I knew that I could not pass up such an opportunity, so I got my friend to go down with me and we were immediately welcomed and taught some Bollywood style dance moves. They were also doing that thing where you hold hands and lean back and spin. I had all these women coming up to me asking to do it with me and then have pictures take of us doing it, so I ended up spinning like that with at least ten women in a row. A very dizzying experience. While walking back to the taxi after the ceremony I had four different guys come up to me to tell me they liked my dancing. A certain indication that I am meant to be in a Bollywood film.
I kind of jumped ahead to the second part of the day first, but the first part of the day was so very awesome as well. We went to the Golden Temple, which is I think the most sacred temple for the Sikhs. I know very little about Sikhs still - but I can confidently say that I think they are an awesome religion. They sort of try to combine Hinduism and Islam, while abolishing the caste system. Everyone is seen in equal terms. I ALSO found out that kirtan is a huge part of their religion. In the temple, there are men singing kirtan from the holy books, and the music is played throughout the whole area on speakers. I bought a CD of tracks recorded in the Golden Temple - ohhh yeah. I was really inspired by the whole experience because I could poignantly feel the devotional energy from the people around me. One woman even drank the water where everyone washes off their feet. A very unsanitary form of devotion, but devotion nonetheless ...
And also, now I know what it feels like to be a celebrity. EVERYONE wants to take pictures with us! It's soooo insane and funny. I don't mind because if it makes them happy, then sure I'll take a picture with them. We got many picture requests at the Golden Temple, and then also at the border ceremony. It was actually borderline irritating at the border because we were just trying to leave but getting held up for an extra ten minutes by the incessant picture requests. I don't really understand how they develop this sort of reverence for people from the West. It's not like foreigners come to America and we're so in awe of them that we want to take pictures. We seem as though we're more jaded to the experience of visitors from the "outside" because we already regard ourselves as a sort of amalgam of outsiders anyways. Or that could just be my take on it, I don't really know what it is that makes the two so different.
This past weekend we went to Vishish near Minali. My favorite place thus far. SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO beautiful. So beautiful. Even the drive up was delectable eye candy for me. Pine forests and a stellar view of the snowy Himalayas and waterfalls. Tis my kind of place. We went on an incredible hike up to a waterfall that ended up taking six hours because we took a rather unbeaten path up the side of the mountain, then chilled by the waterfall for awhile, then sat on a rock in the forest for another while, then randomly trekked around through the forest. It was very difficult for me to leave the forest. I'm pretty sure I could have just decided right then and there to live in it as a hermit forever. We celebrated my birthday that night at a place called Blue Heaven on a roof, where drunk Indian men sang me happy birthday and I was entirely amused. On my actual birthday, the staff tried to have a cake made for me without eggs and butter, but they accidently put icing on anyways. I did forego my veganism for a bit and had a piece. Oh, the crazy things I do in this country ... :)
We shall be going back to Vashish this coming weekend for white water rafting and/or rock climbing!!!! My friend and I also got randomly invited to have chai tea with a man who owns a little book store, and he asked for us to come over and have his wife give us henna and his friend teach us Indian dance. Sounds like quite a night, so I think we'll try to see him again when we go back. We weren't able to fit that all in last weekend. It was really challenging to spend only a couple days there. I could see myself spending a good month in Vashish. On the drive back we stopped at a temple in Old Manali where we gave an offering, and then had a man put a dot of red ink on our forehead and give us blessed puffed rice. I realized that that's been the third bit of blessed food I've eaten since coming here - and that's a lot of blessed food to consume in the mere time span of three weeks. They had bungee jumping nearby, which my friend and I almost did. Until we decided it'd be better to settle with getting a picture on a yak. So we paid 100 rupees to sit on a yak together and have them take countless pictures of us. It felt like a photo shoot, they got us from all sorts of angles. And I decided I really like yaks. Maybe more than bison? I could modify my dream of having a pet bison to that of having a pet yak.
Placement's going quite well. I feel like I'm really bonding with the kids and I know I'll miss them terribly when I leave, so I just try to keep it within my awareness to appreciate the time I'm spending with them as much as I possibly can. It's so rewarding to get smiles and laughs from them, or when they come to sit in my lap or hold my hand, or when we all dance together. There's been a lot more dancing going on lately - it's great. I still have that pestering feeling that I could be doing more and helping more, but I think it's really unproductive when I let it get a hold of me. I also try to focus on the realization that I'm not only giving something to them, but they're giving a lot to me, and I'm there to learn my own lessons as well. The whole experience requires a great deal of patience and an easy-going attitude towards whatever comes up. And that's sort of metaphorical for life in general I suppose.
Anyways. It was a really awesome experience to get a sanskrit mantra that resonates with me on such an intense level in the land from which it originated. Last weekend we went on our first weekend excursion to Amritsar and spent the Fourth of July at the Pakistani border - a situation I was a bit amused by. They have this ceremony every night in which huge crowds gather on either side of the gated border in stadium style seating and cheer in response to a sort of MC who leads the whole thing, while a few soldiers go through this whole process of marching the flags to the gate and greeting the Pakistani soldiers. It's a pretty big deal and people got quite riled up. They also have this "VIP" section, for which you show your passport, and if you're a westerner you get put in the best seats. I'm not exactly sure why they do this, but it amused me. The BEST part though was right before the actual ceremony - during which a huge dance party took place. Girls only. I'm sure we made the guys jealous. Because it was awesome. All the Indian women and girls started dancing to Punjabi music and I knew that I could not pass up such an opportunity, so I got my friend to go down with me and we were immediately welcomed and taught some Bollywood style dance moves. They were also doing that thing where you hold hands and lean back and spin. I had all these women coming up to me asking to do it with me and then have pictures take of us doing it, so I ended up spinning like that with at least ten women in a row. A very dizzying experience. While walking back to the taxi after the ceremony I had four different guys come up to me to tell me they liked my dancing. A certain indication that I am meant to be in a Bollywood film.
I kind of jumped ahead to the second part of the day first, but the first part of the day was so very awesome as well. We went to the Golden Temple, which is I think the most sacred temple for the Sikhs. I know very little about Sikhs still - but I can confidently say that I think they are an awesome religion. They sort of try to combine Hinduism and Islam, while abolishing the caste system. Everyone is seen in equal terms. I ALSO found out that kirtan is a huge part of their religion. In the temple, there are men singing kirtan from the holy books, and the music is played throughout the whole area on speakers. I bought a CD of tracks recorded in the Golden Temple - ohhh yeah. I was really inspired by the whole experience because I could poignantly feel the devotional energy from the people around me. One woman even drank the water where everyone washes off their feet. A very unsanitary form of devotion, but devotion nonetheless ...
And also, now I know what it feels like to be a celebrity. EVERYONE wants to take pictures with us! It's soooo insane and funny. I don't mind because if it makes them happy, then sure I'll take a picture with them. We got many picture requests at the Golden Temple, and then also at the border ceremony. It was actually borderline irritating at the border because we were just trying to leave but getting held up for an extra ten minutes by the incessant picture requests. I don't really understand how they develop this sort of reverence for people from the West. It's not like foreigners come to America and we're so in awe of them that we want to take pictures. We seem as though we're more jaded to the experience of visitors from the "outside" because we already regard ourselves as a sort of amalgam of outsiders anyways. Or that could just be my take on it, I don't really know what it is that makes the two so different.
This past weekend we went to Vishish near Minali. My favorite place thus far. SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO beautiful. So beautiful. Even the drive up was delectable eye candy for me. Pine forests and a stellar view of the snowy Himalayas and waterfalls. Tis my kind of place. We went on an incredible hike up to a waterfall that ended up taking six hours because we took a rather unbeaten path up the side of the mountain, then chilled by the waterfall for awhile, then sat on a rock in the forest for another while, then randomly trekked around through the forest. It was very difficult for me to leave the forest. I'm pretty sure I could have just decided right then and there to live in it as a hermit forever. We celebrated my birthday that night at a place called Blue Heaven on a roof, where drunk Indian men sang me happy birthday and I was entirely amused. On my actual birthday, the staff tried to have a cake made for me without eggs and butter, but they accidently put icing on anyways. I did forego my veganism for a bit and had a piece. Oh, the crazy things I do in this country ... :)
We shall be going back to Vashish this coming weekend for white water rafting and/or rock climbing!!!! My friend and I also got randomly invited to have chai tea with a man who owns a little book store, and he asked for us to come over and have his wife give us henna and his friend teach us Indian dance. Sounds like quite a night, so I think we'll try to see him again when we go back. We weren't able to fit that all in last weekend. It was really challenging to spend only a couple days there. I could see myself spending a good month in Vashish. On the drive back we stopped at a temple in Old Manali where we gave an offering, and then had a man put a dot of red ink on our forehead and give us blessed puffed rice. I realized that that's been the third bit of blessed food I've eaten since coming here - and that's a lot of blessed food to consume in the mere time span of three weeks. They had bungee jumping nearby, which my friend and I almost did. Until we decided it'd be better to settle with getting a picture on a yak. So we paid 100 rupees to sit on a yak together and have them take countless pictures of us. It felt like a photo shoot, they got us from all sorts of angles. And I decided I really like yaks. Maybe more than bison? I could modify my dream of having a pet bison to that of having a pet yak.
Placement's going quite well. I feel like I'm really bonding with the kids and I know I'll miss them terribly when I leave, so I just try to keep it within my awareness to appreciate the time I'm spending with them as much as I possibly can. It's so rewarding to get smiles and laughs from them, or when they come to sit in my lap or hold my hand, or when we all dance together. There's been a lot more dancing going on lately - it's great. I still have that pestering feeling that I could be doing more and helping more, but I think it's really unproductive when I let it get a hold of me. I also try to focus on the realization that I'm not only giving something to them, but they're giving a lot to me, and I'm there to learn my own lessons as well. The whole experience requires a great deal of patience and an easy-going attitude towards whatever comes up. And that's sort of metaphorical for life in general I suppose.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Dharamsala & Palampur July 1, 2009
A few days ago, on Sunday, I saw more Tibetan monks than any other given day in my lifetime. First, during our picnic, in which the spot we had chosen had also been chosen by picnicing monks who looked as though they were throwing a carnival, what with all their tents draped throughout the trees. We (well, I watched actually) played a game of cricket, which really just seems like another version of baseball to me. The heat had me semi-napping under a tree, while intermittently sucking on mangos and chugging water. Itty bitty monk children splashed about in the creek and I was entirely envious. Fortunately, my feelings of envy were remedied when a water fight was instigated by some of the volunteers and staff. Most were picked up and thrown into the creek, but when Jaggy grabbed for my arm I just walked along and had him escort me to the cool welcoming water. We were splashing at each other and just belching out uproars of laughter at the whole situation. I scooped my hand along the bottom and picked up a rock with a large amount of quartz in it. There I was, surrounded by gaping Tibetan monk children, fully clothed and splashing water without a given target in a creek that flowed over a bed of quartz and through a cattle grazing field in India. I never weary of these contextualizations.
My next encounter with an abundance of monks took place in Dharamsala, the town where the Dalai Lama resides and where the Tibetans were exiled half a century or so back. Monsoon season decided to give us a preview of its watery wrath on that very day, but we were set on going to Dharamsala to look around and eat at a highly recommended restaurant called Carpe Diam (where I ate the most delicious Thai soup and curry). The rain came for periods of ten or so minutes and guzzled down against the sides of the car and the front windshield like an enormous hose that wouldn't allow for any air spaces between its beads of water. I exerted all my calm energies to try and think "I am not going to die right now, this driver is very experienced." But I couldn't see out the windshield, how could he? By virtue of me writing this blog entry, yes, we did make it alive and well to Dharamsala, after having driven up a winding mountain road for a near forty minutes. I was intrigued by all the signs along the road with phrases like "Keep your town pure and clean and green" and "Protect the wildlife" etc. The environmental consciousness of this place is pretttty high, and I'm wondering if that in part has to do with the high tourist rate here. It was strange to see so many westerners amongst us. I'm so used to being oggled at and treated like some celebrity (every time we walk through the rice fields towards the hill to hike kids will be peeking out from windows or in the fields and yell out "Hi!" while vigorously waving to us). But Dharamsala is noteworthily quite the attraction. The narrow streets of the market with all their vibrant colors and wares of various jewelry, cloths, tapestries, deity statues and prayer beads is only the foreground for the magnificent view of the Himalayas that wows me every time.
I also noticed flyers catering to Westernized tastes, promising yoga and reiki certification, ayurvedic massage ... all the things I absolutely love, and know that most Indians don't pay much attention to. That's one of the cultural "shocks", so to speak, that I have gotten being here. The common person working in the rice fields or on tea plantations or selling their fruit in the stands at the market does not have time to practice yoga, they do not consider alternative forms of healing (Ayurveda) when all they want is quick relief so they can continue their work. These marvels may have originated in India during the Vedic times, but you're hard-pressed to find many Indians who actually do practice these things in areas such as Palampur. When the doctors came to talk with us, I asked how popular Ayurvedic treatment is here in Palampur, and they said that most people don't have the patience to wait for natural treatments to take effect, even though the painkillers they constantly are taking produce many undesirable side effects. And if you had to ask me how this makes me feel, I just don't really know. Some part of me wants to feel guilty - like I'm this Westerner who has the luxury to practice these things that originate in a country that can't afford to itself. Maybe I'm a bit disillusioned, thinking I was tapping into something so "other", so "Eastern", when really I'm part of that expanding minority in the west that can fork out fifteen or twenty bucks for a yoga class without a second thought.
Another challenge of being in Dharamsala is that I covet practically everything there. I could wear all the clothes, hang up every mandala tapestry and completely cover my walls in them, stack bookshelves with statues of Ganesh and dancing Shiva, drape my neck in stone prayer beads. It was like pure spiritually materialistic gluttony. Fortunately, I hadn't brought many rupees with me, so I could keep myself under control. I shall, however, be returning for a Ganesh statue, and these really cute pants called Ali Baba pants. The monsoon struck again right when we got into Dharamsala, so we stood under an awning for a good ten minutes just watching in a trance as the rain poured down. I have an image blazened to my mind of a hunched over little old Tibetan woman with tarp like material draped over her back, and her face is just beaming with smile as she gradually makes her way up the path. She is the only one on the path while everyone else has taken cover.
We found a really awesome store with gorgeous rugs and tapestries, I was simply looking at the tapestries out of interest and without the intention of purchasing one. An employee, Vijay, was showing me tapestry after tapestry and explaining them all to me. Some had those meditation squares, I forget the name, and others had the mandalas with the gods inside. He laid out one in particular, and something in my heart region was just tingling, and I knew I needed that tapestry as a presence in my life. It's a mandala of blessings - sounds pretty general - but I can feel its potency. So yes, I did purchase that. Vijay offered to take me out for Chai tea next time I came to Dharamsala. Jaggy had warned us of men in Dharamsala who offer to take western girls out for Saffron tea, and then occasionally drug it or some such other debauchery. Either Vijay tried to get me with the Chai, or he genuinely wants to take me out for tea. He was really polite and nice to talk to, but he was also making a sale, and I sense that people in the more touristy regions would tend to be more corrupted. But then I met another really awesome employee who's an elderly Brahmin. He asked me if I'm vegetarian, and when I told him I'm vegan his face just lit up and he told me that I'm going to live two hundred years and that he gave me this blessing. He also told me I'm not like the other Americans because I look very simple without a lot of jewelry and makeup, and he told me that I am a daughter to him now. It was both hilarious and very heart-warming. He asked for my address and said he would send me a copy of the Bhagavad Gitta, and I told him I would come back to visit him at the store, and he promised multiple times that even if he wasn't there, the books would be waiting for me and that no one else would be allowed to take them.
I had an interesting revelation whilst hiking the other day. Standing there at the top and looking out on the expanse of rice fields and brightly painted homes and vast expanses of grazing fields, I realized that I'm not so small or insignificant. Most people would perhaps have the opposite reaction, seeing as they are this one smaller proportioned person in ratio to all the landscape that appears before them. But it occurred to me that all that landscape is in fact a part of me too. My own existence reaches out beyond my physical frame. I was in that position to view that landscape because of my karma. Through my past karmic actions, I brought that situation into fruition. Therefore, I am the creator of that moment, and that moment encompasses all I see before me, so all I see before me is also me.
I sat in on the Hindi lesson last night with the interns and was way more concentrated than I've ever been with French. I love the way French sounds, especially in poetry, but there's something about Hindi that really speaks to me. I was writing out the alphabet and learning how to pronounce each sound, and then I actually wrote a couple words. It makes me think that I should actually study Sanskrit (the ancient sacred language from which Hindi originated and in which the Bhagavad Gita is written ... hmm. I've been singing a few songs in Hindi with the kids at placement, and although I have no idea what I'm saying, it goes to show how singing allows for a more primal and truthful connection between people despite the language and cultural barriers. Music is such a significant component of the human experience.
Today I have a slight fever and missed out on my placement, but I have no real worries about it. I went to see a doctor and he gave me a few antibiotics, which I am normally quite opposed to, but felt that I might as well "when in India"... I do just want to get better already, I missed out on a trip to the tea plantation. But I had an interesting experience today while lying in bed and listening to the kirtan song "Om namah shivaya" (which is arguably the most sacred of mantras). I was suddenly overtaken by a complete understanding of all my blessings in this life, and just started weeping. I feel so very blessed for my family, for my friends, for all the love in my life, for all my gifts that I can use to give back to the world ... I felt healthier after that cry because to realize one's blessings is to become more present in one's own life.
My next encounter with an abundance of monks took place in Dharamsala, the town where the Dalai Lama resides and where the Tibetans were exiled half a century or so back. Monsoon season decided to give us a preview of its watery wrath on that very day, but we were set on going to Dharamsala to look around and eat at a highly recommended restaurant called Carpe Diam (where I ate the most delicious Thai soup and curry). The rain came for periods of ten or so minutes and guzzled down against the sides of the car and the front windshield like an enormous hose that wouldn't allow for any air spaces between its beads of water. I exerted all my calm energies to try and think "I am not going to die right now, this driver is very experienced." But I couldn't see out the windshield, how could he? By virtue of me writing this blog entry, yes, we did make it alive and well to Dharamsala, after having driven up a winding mountain road for a near forty minutes. I was intrigued by all the signs along the road with phrases like "Keep your town pure and clean and green" and "Protect the wildlife" etc. The environmental consciousness of this place is pretttty high, and I'm wondering if that in part has to do with the high tourist rate here. It was strange to see so many westerners amongst us. I'm so used to being oggled at and treated like some celebrity (every time we walk through the rice fields towards the hill to hike kids will be peeking out from windows or in the fields and yell out "Hi!" while vigorously waving to us). But Dharamsala is noteworthily quite the attraction. The narrow streets of the market with all their vibrant colors and wares of various jewelry, cloths, tapestries, deity statues and prayer beads is only the foreground for the magnificent view of the Himalayas that wows me every time.
I also noticed flyers catering to Westernized tastes, promising yoga and reiki certification, ayurvedic massage ... all the things I absolutely love, and know that most Indians don't pay much attention to. That's one of the cultural "shocks", so to speak, that I have gotten being here. The common person working in the rice fields or on tea plantations or selling their fruit in the stands at the market does not have time to practice yoga, they do not consider alternative forms of healing (Ayurveda) when all they want is quick relief so they can continue their work. These marvels may have originated in India during the Vedic times, but you're hard-pressed to find many Indians who actually do practice these things in areas such as Palampur. When the doctors came to talk with us, I asked how popular Ayurvedic treatment is here in Palampur, and they said that most people don't have the patience to wait for natural treatments to take effect, even though the painkillers they constantly are taking produce many undesirable side effects. And if you had to ask me how this makes me feel, I just don't really know. Some part of me wants to feel guilty - like I'm this Westerner who has the luxury to practice these things that originate in a country that can't afford to itself. Maybe I'm a bit disillusioned, thinking I was tapping into something so "other", so "Eastern", when really I'm part of that expanding minority in the west that can fork out fifteen or twenty bucks for a yoga class without a second thought.
Another challenge of being in Dharamsala is that I covet practically everything there. I could wear all the clothes, hang up every mandala tapestry and completely cover my walls in them, stack bookshelves with statues of Ganesh and dancing Shiva, drape my neck in stone prayer beads. It was like pure spiritually materialistic gluttony. Fortunately, I hadn't brought many rupees with me, so I could keep myself under control. I shall, however, be returning for a Ganesh statue, and these really cute pants called Ali Baba pants. The monsoon struck again right when we got into Dharamsala, so we stood under an awning for a good ten minutes just watching in a trance as the rain poured down. I have an image blazened to my mind of a hunched over little old Tibetan woman with tarp like material draped over her back, and her face is just beaming with smile as she gradually makes her way up the path. She is the only one on the path while everyone else has taken cover.
We found a really awesome store with gorgeous rugs and tapestries, I was simply looking at the tapestries out of interest and without the intention of purchasing one. An employee, Vijay, was showing me tapestry after tapestry and explaining them all to me. Some had those meditation squares, I forget the name, and others had the mandalas with the gods inside. He laid out one in particular, and something in my heart region was just tingling, and I knew I needed that tapestry as a presence in my life. It's a mandala of blessings - sounds pretty general - but I can feel its potency. So yes, I did purchase that. Vijay offered to take me out for Chai tea next time I came to Dharamsala. Jaggy had warned us of men in Dharamsala who offer to take western girls out for Saffron tea, and then occasionally drug it or some such other debauchery. Either Vijay tried to get me with the Chai, or he genuinely wants to take me out for tea. He was really polite and nice to talk to, but he was also making a sale, and I sense that people in the more touristy regions would tend to be more corrupted. But then I met another really awesome employee who's an elderly Brahmin. He asked me if I'm vegetarian, and when I told him I'm vegan his face just lit up and he told me that I'm going to live two hundred years and that he gave me this blessing. He also told me I'm not like the other Americans because I look very simple without a lot of jewelry and makeup, and he told me that I am a daughter to him now. It was both hilarious and very heart-warming. He asked for my address and said he would send me a copy of the Bhagavad Gitta, and I told him I would come back to visit him at the store, and he promised multiple times that even if he wasn't there, the books would be waiting for me and that no one else would be allowed to take them.
I had an interesting revelation whilst hiking the other day. Standing there at the top and looking out on the expanse of rice fields and brightly painted homes and vast expanses of grazing fields, I realized that I'm not so small or insignificant. Most people would perhaps have the opposite reaction, seeing as they are this one smaller proportioned person in ratio to all the landscape that appears before them. But it occurred to me that all that landscape is in fact a part of me too. My own existence reaches out beyond my physical frame. I was in that position to view that landscape because of my karma. Through my past karmic actions, I brought that situation into fruition. Therefore, I am the creator of that moment, and that moment encompasses all I see before me, so all I see before me is also me.
I sat in on the Hindi lesson last night with the interns and was way more concentrated than I've ever been with French. I love the way French sounds, especially in poetry, but there's something about Hindi that really speaks to me. I was writing out the alphabet and learning how to pronounce each sound, and then I actually wrote a couple words. It makes me think that I should actually study Sanskrit (the ancient sacred language from which Hindi originated and in which the Bhagavad Gita is written ... hmm. I've been singing a few songs in Hindi with the kids at placement, and although I have no idea what I'm saying, it goes to show how singing allows for a more primal and truthful connection between people despite the language and cultural barriers. Music is such a significant component of the human experience.
Today I have a slight fever and missed out on my placement, but I have no real worries about it. I went to see a doctor and he gave me a few antibiotics, which I am normally quite opposed to, but felt that I might as well "when in India"... I do just want to get better already, I missed out on a trip to the tea plantation. But I had an interesting experience today while lying in bed and listening to the kirtan song "Om namah shivaya" (which is arguably the most sacred of mantras). I was suddenly overtaken by a complete understanding of all my blessings in this life, and just started weeping. I feel so very blessed for my family, for my friends, for all the love in my life, for all my gifts that I can use to give back to the world ... I felt healthier after that cry because to realize one's blessings is to become more present in one's own life.
Monday, June 29, 2009
A few photos from the past week
Shrine for the mummified guru
Inside the monastery
Where we're staying at
An awesome monk and myself
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Palampur June 27, 2009
I had a bit of trouble keeping up with this blogging considering they keep us so busy here. A couple days ago I asked if I could tag along on an intern-only excursion to the University of Agriculture. The campus sprawls itself across the rolling hills and encompasses whole fields of rice and valleys overflowing with tea bushes. It was really awesome to bear witness to the organic movement in a place not so well-off - just proving the point that returning to organic farming is a point that is relevant not only to the wealthy Whole Foods frequenters. One of the deans led us through a tour of the school and emphasized how the use of chemicals will completely ruin the soil in a time span of a mere 25 years. We wandered through a biochemistry lab and a relieving 68 degree room stacked with various cultures, a veterinary surgical room, and the college where textiles are sewn and meals cooked in huge vats and ovens and such.
The day before yesterday we went to an ancient temple dedicated to the Lord Shiva (who destroys all of creation so that it can start over again). We washed our feet and hands before entering the temple barefoot, and rang a huge bell before entering the temple, where a man stood before an altar and spewed out prayers at rapid-fire while flicking water from a wet flower onto the heads of a family. He then blessed some puffed rice and we took turns going up to him and receiving a handful, which I then ate with attempted reverence. I took a bunch of pictures of the intricate carvings of different gods that vertically stacked themselves along the sides of the temple. There was also an interesting display of Lord Shiva's balls entering the vagina of another god (forgot her name). It didn't look too erotically evocative to me, sort of just like a modern sculpture - took a few pictures next to that.
Then we went to a Buddhist monastery which was AMAZING. Okay, so I know I haven't dedicated myself to being a Buddhist practitioner, but I just get chills in these places. First we took a bunch of group pictures with all the little monks-in-training - the cutest chinese boys adorned in their red monk robes hopping about the stairs in their croqs (spelled right? I don't know). I felt a more natural sense of reverence in this monastery than I had in the temple. I placed an oil lamp as an act of prayer, and then noticed a tree growing out of a shrine. I was immediately drawn towards it and while I was standing in front of it I felt a huge whoosh of existence cementing me into the fact of my very being. I found out a bit later from a monk that one of their masters' hearts had been preserved and placed in that shrine, and the tree's roots grew into the heart and around the little statue of Lord Buddha. The most fantasmical part was climbing up a steep hill towards the shrine where their most recent guru had been mummified using salt and not chemicals. His body was set in full lotus meditation posture, and he's been that way for three years without any signs of degradation - which is frankly incredible. Apparently his spiritual prowess has kept his body quite intact. I felt an immediate love for this person as I looked at his picture and felt the dense energy of all the devotion of his followers who had come here before me and placed their offerings upon his shrine. It was a powerful experience and I very much wanted to meditate in that room with him. I'm considering going back to do so.
Last night we went out to a hotel to celebrate a birthday. We all got super rowdy and I felt like quite the American spectacle. When we got back we had a birthday-cake-gone-cake-fight with the staff, watched some Bollywood music videos, and laid out on the grass under the stars and did some random yoga poses. Yoga under the stars - how did I never think of this before?
I'm starting to figure out my niche in my volunteering and getting super motivated. I spent all morning re-reading all my placement books, researching activity ideas, and brainstorming. I'm going to try to instigate a garden project so that the kids can plant their own food and flowers. This daycare center is actually an abandoned post office that looks pretty decrepit and bland. There's nothing on the walls except for a phrase in Hindi that's apparently a warning against becoming an alcoholic. We decided the place needs color - badly. So we painted a blackboard and started on a mural today, along with the alphabet and numbers. The kids are getting a lot more comfortable with me and will come and sit on my lap or hold my hand or imitate what I'm doing or let me tickle them. They were quite shy the first couple days. There was a period today when I had them super engaged, after playing a few rounds of ring-around--the-rosy (which they LOVE, we "all fall down" a good fifteen times), and I suddenly became the focal point of their rapt attention. So we did head shoulders knees and toes and they repeated a bunch of body parts after me. The teacher taught me a song in Hindi and the kids were so incredibly cute while dancing to it. We're going to bring a CD player for more music and dancing, and I'm going to make pill bottle shakers with rice inside for them to shake while they dance. I also started creating a schedule - like Monday is alphabet, Tuesday is fruits (I'm going to bring in the actual fruits to eat), Wednesday is numbers etc. There's basically no structure, so I thought that could help things move along a bit more. I love this work sooo much, I feel like this is all I want to do with my life - just go around to different cultures and connect with the kids and teach them.
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