At long last the tale of mikes adventure in India.

Well, it’s been 7 weeks of traveling… Me and Manders set off for Thailand under somewhat stressful circumstances. For all the weeks of preparations I had I really didn’t start packing until an hour before I left. The last few days before I left I was sick and 10 minutes before we had to leave I threw a bunch of stuff into my backpack and set off for what would be 7 weeks of traveling.

Nothing like a 20-hour flight to help you recover from being sick. We spent two days in Bangkok and then headed down to koh phangan, spent the next 10 days hanging out on the beach doing yoga and making friends with all the beach dogs.
Basically it was a very romantic time so I will spare you all the details.

Anyway…. The time came for us to head our separate ways, Amanda back to SF and me on a plane to Sri Lanka and then to Trivandrum in the south of India.

Pakistani businessmen and moustaches.
It is true on my flight to India everyone on the plane was an Indian man with a moustache. No exceptions. Well one exception… I have never felt more white and more moustachless in my life.

After an overnight in Sri Lanka In a rather moldy hotel. I arrived at Trivandrum international airport. I made arrangements to be picked up by one of the taxies from the ashram. And there he was holding a sign with my name on it. It turns out my taxi driver had got the wrong info and showed up 12 hours too soon then slept overnight in the taxi until I got there. That was either true or a really great way to get a bigger tip.

Ammas Ashram

This massive compound housing somewhere around 2000 permanent residents is located in a very remote rural village surrounded by water ways and palm jungle as far as the eye can see. I got a room in the 14th floor of one of the huge dormitories. My roommate was a guy named esteban from Spain who spoke (almost) no English and had been at the ashram for 6 months. At the ashram everyone is celibate wears white and spends most of the day working on Ammas humanitarian projects. I found a job working in the printing press. We would carry hundreds of pounds of paper everyday into the press where it would be made into books pamphlets letters notebooks. Either for fundraising or for school children all over India.

IT took a couple days of adjusting but I got into a nice little routine. Up at 4 chanting meditation yoga and then some work in the printing press. Soon enough my friend Jeremy arrived back from a tour of India with Amma. By that time I had made friends with two firefighter sisters from Alaska who unbeknownst to me would be my traveling companions for the next ten days.

I still had no plan and the decision to leave came fast. It was the fifth day at the ashram. Brita and Winter (the fire firefighter sisters) said they were leaving and asked if I wanted to go. I checked with Jeremy and to my surprise he said yes and within an hour we were off. Stepping out in to a strange country without a plan with people you have know only for 2 days is a scary yet magical experience. I am happy I have gotten to experience it at least once in my life.
India is hot. My backpack was old and looked like something your dad might have worn when he was in the boy scouts. At least that’s what Brita kept telling me. It seemed my backpack and me were a never-ending source of entertainment for her.

THE ART OF HAGGELING
How is it that this very mild mannered girl from Alaska turns into a snarling and vicious beast when confronted by the possibility of paying too much for a rickshaw?

Brita and winter had been traveling India for the past 4 months and had developed a savage ability not to be ripped off by the local drivers. Latter on I will describe the many ways I was ripped off by taxi and rickshaw drivers.

After a 4-hour bus ride we made it to Allopy. About 50 km north of the Ashram. We found a guest house to stay in. it was a big clean house on a somewhat quiet street. It was owned by two cousins. We paid 150 rupees for each room. Us 3$. Once we arrived and put down our bags our host eagerly picked up my guitar and started to find all sorts of abrasive sounds that I didn’t know it was capable of producing. In the end we were able get it away from him by letting him sing hotel California with accompaniment a few times.

The next day we hired a house boat and set out for two days of exploring the backwaters of kerala. Hundreds of miles of interconnected rivers and canals winding there way through palm jungles, rice paddies and tiny little villages. There is a lot to be said for a town with no roads going in and out of it. If I could have stayed I would.

Another long bus rid brought us to the once Portuguese colony of Kochin. On the beach cobble stone streets and 500 year old buildings. Kind of touristy but the sheer number of Indian people still made us whites feel like a drop in the bucket. I found myself often surrounded by large groups of young Indian men waiting in line to shake my hand and ask me questions about Barrack Obama. We stayed at another guesthouse this one with a less invasive host but hundreds of mosquitoes. We went to sleep in a cloud of mosquito coil smoke and still woke up itching. We also found our first air-conditioned coffee house. Awesome! The girls and I decided we were going to head up to Goa and Jeremy decided he was going to fly to Pondicherry in the south east part of the country and go see some spiritual stuff.

We left at night and caught an overnight train to Mangalore. Still on the coast about 300 km north. Mangalore is big and dirty. It was the first place I saw that had plenty of us outsourced companies. Big shiny glass buildings popping up from the dust and chaos of the busy Indian street.

I would like to make a side note on the condition of streets and the driving habits of the Indian people. While driving in a car about every 5 minuets something would happen that would make me think I was going to die. As far as I could tell the most important thing for an Indian driver is not to avoid a head on collision but to make sure at all costs you never slow down for a car in front of you. A driver would swerve out into oncoming traffic with his horn blasting to avoid breaking. In turn the oncoming traffic would swerve onto the shoulder and the bikes, pedestrians, cows and what not would move into the ditch. Over and over again this was the way it worked. I usually chose to simply not look.

After another day of travel we made it to the town of Aronbol in the state of Goa. The famed international hippy enclave that draws semi spiritual party seekers from around the globe. It was just the end of the tourist season so a lot of places were closing up. The town was a big horseshoe shaped road with both ends meeting at the beach. Aronbol is an easy place to be. So much so that many people don’t leave. And its no wonder India can be an intimidating place to get around. Just taking a local train can be a nightmare. Figuring out which train is yours can take a lot of time. None of the trains are labeled and there is no schedule or anything posted. Some train stations can 5 or 6 different platforms. After a few weeks I found the trick is to ask the snack guy. Typically there is always a guy selling water and crackers and maybe some samosas. He is the one who will always know.

We spent two days in Aronbol. I got my fill of veggie burgers and sunset swims.
The morning arrived where both the girls and I would head our separate ways. Brita walked me to the bus station in town. As soon as we left my bungalow my backpack broke. One of the straps just came off. I wasn’t too excited about his considering this marked was the first time I was going to be on my own in India. Well a little dental floss and some duct tape can work wonders and soon enough I was on my way again.

THE SURF ASHRAM
This time I was traveling back down south to the surf ashram I had found online which was on the coast in a little town called Mulki. It took me a whole day of traveling to get there. As I stepped off the train it began to pour. After a little haggling with the local rickshaw drivers I arrived at the ashram. A big blue building on the bank of a river surrounded by peaceful palm groves rice paddies and little houses.
They didn’t mention this on the website but it turns out it was a Hare Krishna ashram. Even though most people know them as the crazy singing orange garbed people that hang out at the airport hare Krishna’s are a sect of Hindus who worship Krishna, the supreme lord of the pantheon of Hindu gods. Hinduism is a very complicated thing.
Within it there are dozens of gods representing different things. Different communities of Hindus choose to worship different gods sometimes exclusively. I had several conversations with Hindus out side the ashram that when they found out I was at a Krishna ashram they were a little taken back and made a point to let me know which Hindu god they worshiped and why. It was the same in other places in India this subtle competition between followers of one god over another yet all within the same religion.
Our daily schedule at the ashram was simple but very satisfying. Wake up a 6 bahjans for about 45 min. bahjans are devotional Hindi songs usually accompanied by drums and a harmonium. A quick bite to eat and then we would hit the ocean for a good three hours.

The ashram was situated where two big rivers meet the sea. We would ride in a boat across the river and then carry our boards across a big sand bar to reach the surf spot. After surfing, breakfast, a good long nap for hottest part and then maybe a trip to town or a kayak up the river, a little yoga then dinner a surf movie and bed. It’s a winning combination. The ashram was run by a young guy from san Diego named Daruka. He came to India to study with a swami 7 years before. He liked it so much that he decided to stay indefinitely. The other guys at the ashram were young boys from the local villages who were following the path of Hare Krishna and had become amazing surfers.

Along with me at the ashram were two other guests; Ben, a graphic illustrator from the UK who had been working in Bangalore and Ram Raj an Indian accountant from Mumbai.
A little later in the week Ram Raj and I decided to take a trip to a neighboring town to visit a Krishna temple. In most small towns in India the Temple is the center of the social, spiritual and economic life. They are open to the public all day where there is a constant flow of worshipers passing through to pay there respects to the deities.
The temple we visited was a huge complex with several courtyards waterways and many buildings. We waited in line for about 20 minutes before we got to the main deity. We could only look at it for a few seconds before we were told to move on. It was a small black statue of Krishna covered in candles and surrounded by flowers.

The week at the ashram went quickly. After many trips to the Internet café Jeremy and I hatched a plan to meet up in the city of Aurangabad. It would have been a two-day train trip so opted to pay extra and take a plane.
Aurangabad is the jump off point to visit the Ellora cave temples. These are a set of 50 caves that were carved out of solid rock over a period of 500 years by Hindu and Buddhist monks. The oldest of the caves date back 3000 years.

The caves ranged from rather simple to incredibly ornate. All the statues of deities and Buddhas were all carved out of the mountain. One of the first things that struck me was the sexual nature of the female statues. In all the caves anytime you would have a
Female figure she would be basically wearing a bikini and would have a huge rack.
It makes sense you have a bunch of monks living in a cave together spending all day carving statues of female fertility goddesses you might as well give them some junk in the trunk. We worked our way through the various caves until we made it to the giant temple of ellora. This is the largest monolithic structure ever make by man. I hope I can include some pictures. Its at least 6 stories high. And a couple hundred yards long. Every square inch of the façade was covered with intricately designed ornate stonework. All sorts of sculptures of animals men and gods. To me it seemed that there must have been some kind of slave labor involved to accomplish a monumental task of carving this out of the mountain. Unfortunately not much is really know about the culture and the people who made these caves and temples. It’s a funny thing, if you were living in these temples when they were in there prime it must have seemed like the center if the world. It must have seemed so permanent. And now we don’t even really know who made them and what life was like for them. The culture has been lost. It’s a sobering reminder that no mater how permanent our situation seems life simply moves on.


We spent a few more days in Aurangabad. It was a very dusty and hot town. There were certain roads that had lots of very poor people sleeping on them. Lots of families and older people as well. We made the executive decision that instead of going out and doing something touristy we would spend the rest of our time buying food and giving it away to people who needed it.
Our fist attempt was at night. We purchased 20 samosas and a big bag a carrots and squash and headed down to the road. I was really nervose. Im not sure why. I think some of it was just not really wanting to be face to face with parts of the world that made me feel uncomfortable, or I wish did not exist, that make me feel like I have too much or guilty. I am so thankful that Jeremy was very solid about his intention to do this. It really is one of the most memorable experiences on the trip.
We got down to where a group of families were sleeping next to the road. As soon as they saw us they knew what we were there to do and all came rushing towards us. For about 30 seconds I frantically handed out the bag of carrots and squash until it was gone. Jeremy didn’t have as much luck. Within a few seconds of him opening up the bag it was grabbed from his hand by a little. We followed her around and made sure she handed the samosas out to everyone else. We did the same things later that night for a group of Moslem women a little bit down the road. And the next day … it was a similar story. Except a little more intense. Jeremy got swarmed with people and was calling out to me for help. His bags of food got ripped open and taken away be for he could even hand anything out. It was more funny that scary.


VARANASI,

Or as I came to refer to it as “vera nasty” that’s a little joke that would always get a good groan from Jeremy. Anyway. Time was running out. I had one week left before I was to return to SF. Varanasi is the oldest continually inhabited city in the world. Over 3000 years old. And it looks it. This was the one place that everybody told me I should go. Part of me was resistant to going there simply because it was a long way out of the way. Further north than anywhere else I had been. Jeremy was admit about seeing the place so I conceded and we got on another plane and headed north.

It was hot, over 100 degrees. Our guesthouse was right on the Ganges. Varanasi is one of the holiest places in India and one of the dirtiest. Most travelers who stay more than a day get sick. The city is built along the Ganges River. A long walk way lined with gnats (stone steps down to the river) winds its way through ancient temples and crumbling buildings. On the Ghats you will find a mix of people bathing themselves, saduhs (holy men) dressed in orange who spend there whole lives meditating on the Ganges and tourists. It was off-season when we were there so there were not so many foreigners. The streets of the town were a series of narrow labyrinth like alleyways. Where it was very easy to get lost. The cow in India is a sacred animal. A very prized possession. The lack of space did not seem to an adequate reason for not having one of these prestigious animals. Often there would be one tied up out side a tiny apartment right on the street.
During the heat of the day it got up to 113 so anything we did was early morning or evening. Hindus consider Varanasi the most sacred place to die in all of India. Tens of thousand of people each year come to Varanasi to have their bodies burned on the Ganges. There is no real way of transporting dead bodies so people when they are close to death will move there to die. The burning ghats as they are called, burn bodies 24 hours a day. 7 days a week. About 250 bodies a day are burned and set into the river. The air is filled with smoke the river covered with flowers and floating candles and the streets are filled with the families of the dead. It’s amazing that all of this is open to the public. Jeremy and I spent an hour or so at the burning ghats silently watching this ancient ritual take place.
Varanasi is a place of opposites. The holiest place in India is also the one of the most ecologically devastated places. It’s the place you go to wash away your karma but it is also the only place we were where we were constantly being offered drugs and prostitutes.
The Good news is we didn’t get sick. Thanks to a lot of hand sanitizer and an amazing super clean restaurant we found. Varanasi was a difficult place for me to be. As Amanda can attest to by my bitchy emails. But looking back I am glad we went. I don’t think there is any place like it in the world.

My next stop was a jump to the polar opposite of India. If Varanasi is old India than Mumbai is the Beating heart of new India. I had a friend of a friend who lived in down town Mumbai and he said I could come stay with him for a few days. Jeremy and I parted ways again and I was on my way to Mumbai.

As it turns out my friends friend Justin was the personal trainer for one of the richest men in India. He owns several car companies, phones companies and hotels. Including the taj mahal palace hotel which was bombed several months ago by Islamist extremists. Justin lived a few blocks from the hotel and worked for a half hour every morning but besides that was free to show me around. We spent a good amount of time in the taj mahal. It is something like $800 us dollars a night. The epitome of luxury set right on the water in bustling downtown Mumbai. I took a yoga class there, ironically the only one I took my whole time in India, and ate at the enormous gourmet buffet.

Maybe it was just in comparison to the heat and filth of varanasi but I found Mumbai to be charming and relaxing. Old cobble stone streets, lots of bustling markets and friendly people. We walked up and down the ocean side promenade lots of young Indian on dates holding hands something you would never see in the traditional parts of India. And went to dinner at an Irish pub. Awesome!!


Just a few days left. I flew back to Trivandrum and then took a train back to ammas for my last few days. My timing was good because amma arrived back from tour the day after I got there. With amma in the ashram it is a whole different story. A lot more people and a different energy. When she would walk in and out of the dinning hall people would be huddling around here and trying to touch her or get her attention. With all the hippy western kids there I could have sworn I was at a grateful dead show.

The day arrived for me to head back. I left the ashram in a taxi at 4 in the morning. Slept all night on the plane and woke up in the evening in san Francisco.

India, I don’t know what else to say. I feel deeply changed having seen a little piece of this crazy, holy, dirty and beautiful place. It’s been an easy transition being back here. Our western brand of insanity is a different flavor but no less intense. I hope to go back there some day maybe to the north and get lost and found in the incessant river of events that seem to magically unfold when you step out of what you are used to.


If you made it all the way though this you should give your self a pat on the back.