oh cecilia! (india 2005 special edition)

8.29.2005

i can't get you out of my head (india).

(this is my final essay for the class. re-reading it now, i still have much more to say. but i'm at a loss for words whenever i try to articulate everything. this is just what i managed to get out.)

I’ve had an entire summer to think about what I want this piece to say. How can I be concise about an experience of which the very nature eludes all classifications?
And then I started thinking, “That’s probably how everyone is going to start their essays.” Although it could never be more truthful, I can’t base an entire essay on how India is indescribable. So I am going to take a shot at finally putting to words what I’ve been attempting to these past months. With no continuity it will flow, and with only a few specifics it will paint a detailed landscape of my time in India, because such is the plane on which the paradoxical nation of India operates.

At least that’s how I hope this will turn out.

I’ve been reading and rereading my journal and my blog, in attempts to make sure I remember every detail of everything I experienced. It’s hard to believe that I walked up to Kedarnath, almost slid to my doom down a snowdrift, and didn’t die riding rickshaws. It’s hard to remember it was me who did all these things I wrote about. It’s almost as if I was a different person over there.
In a way, I was—as I read my journals, I am also surprised at how juvenile I sound. I became a child in India, rationalizing irrational things and feeling as if everything I saw I was unable to absorb all of, because I was so small in comparison. I only hope I get a chance to go back, and re-experience India with perhaps adolescent eyes; maybe I’ll understand what I’m seeing a little more.

One afternoon in Kedarnath we were all sick in bed. A very loud group of Indians squatted right outside our door and wouldn’t shut up. They sounded like they were arguing the entire time, but they were probably just having normal conversations. We complained. They told us to get a new room. Why were they so loud, when they were right next to each other? And why were we so bothered?

I started staring back at them, to see who would look away first. But it was always me. They stare for the same reasons we do, seeing is knowing. But for us, knowing someone is something dirty. Or maybe someone knowing us is? Listen to me, saying “them” and “us” as if they were animals and we humans (of course). If anything, the staring made me see in the clearest way possible how far I had to go to escape the little voice in the back of my head that screams I’m different and better than “them,” even though I know it isn’t true. I guess I believe in darsān after all…seeing is knowing that there’s something more out there than the obvious.

The temples pulsed with voices, smoke, and colors, like my temples when I have one of my migraines. Both conditions ground you so far into your body that you’re forced to will your mind out of it. Every time I have a migraine I am reminded of being in the temple in Kedarnath, and I come a little closer to understanding why Hinduism developed the way it did. It was inevitable.

Lhamo taught us how to make momos the way his mother, a chef, taught him how to make them. He left Tibet 16 years ago on foot, through the Himalayas. He and his group were forced to hide from the Chinese for over a week with no food as they waited for the coast to be clear. He hasn’t seen his family since he left. With each momo he helped us make I expected him to cry, something I would do if my hands did nothing but remind me of a mother I would never see again. But he didn’t. It just proves I’m not grown up yet, that there’s a lot to see, and that when I yell at my mother “You can’t do this, I’m 20 years old,” it doesn’t really mean anything coming out of my mouth, and that’s why she laughs and does it anyway.

The clothes I bought are falling apart in the wash, like my memories under too much scrutiny. I am remembering things differently and forgetting the things I need to be reminded of. Going back is the only way to reconcile this discrepancy, hand sewing the seams back together and remembering to wash them on the “gentle” cycle from now on.

6.01.2005

"we love you, swami-ji."

before i explain that quote, i'd like to return to a comment i made on my last post about poverty and relativity. i thought about what i would think of somebody saying that if i was you right now, and i decided it comes off fairly badly. to further explain: there is a lot of poverty here. more than anywhere i have ever seen. a few nights ago, at the train station, these young boys followed us around, poking us, begging us for food, but fighting eachother for what was given to them. one threw himself at chris' feet and wouldn't let go. it was sad (and kind of obnoxious). one has to be able to deal with seeing all this somehow. for me, it comes down to two options. either you think you can do something to help, and you do it, or you accept that this is the way things are. unfortunately, i have no way right now of fixing the poverty problems here in india. i have to settle for the latter. however, other than the people begging on the streets, i say poverty is relative because people here, though they may live in houses with plastic trash bag roofs, makes things work. they get along, even if i can't understand how.

it's beautiful, in a way.

our last night in rishikesh was beautiful---we actually spent it in haridwar, seeing the puja (i have been informed that "poojah" is the incorrect spelling)/aarti there. aarti is the part of puja where the devotee circles a sacred flame around the object of their devotion, in this case, the ganges again. we met some very nice ladies, one of whom slapped her kid lightly on the head for being naughty (don't worry, it was soft) and made the joke, "in america, you go to jail for that!"
our last day was great and dissappointing at the same time. we visited an ashram (a sort of hindu refuge, where anybody can go and stay, meditate, take yoga, and work), had a guided chanting/meditation session, talked to a lady from los angeles that has been living and working at the ashram for 9 years, and talked with a hindu saint (swami-ji). the lady was obnoxious. she made us all feel like you could only attain spiritual enlightenment by going to india, and saying the himalayas were holier than the appalacians. ridiculous. she also insulted the scores of native americans that used to worship the land of the u.s., you don't see them worshipping now because we wiped them out. way to be informed. in any case, you don't have to do aarti to worship a river. i think just by sitting by it, or sailing in it, whatever you use the river for, that's worshipping it, too. after all, the indians shit and worship in the same river, i don't think that's any different than anything we do to the mississippi. jeez. i did NOT like her. no matter how much she htried to suppress it, she was incredibly "l.a." she could't hide it, even if she changed her name to an indian name.
the swami-ji, was very nice, though. he was very engaging, plus, he said the redwoods and the forests of india were the same, he had meditated in them both. this made more sense to me. people should worship what they feel most connected to, whether it's the ganges or the blue ridge mountains. you cannot say one is "holier" than the other. i don't think he was enlightened though, even if he was very wise. he gave us some books of his teachings, one of which has a very convincing argument for vegetarianism. you should read it. "we love you, swami-ji" was something wes started saying. i guess making fun of the reverence people had for the guy at the ashram, almost to the point of "he can do no wrong."
we took a night train to dharamamsala, which was an experience in and of itself. it was a 3-tiered sleeper train. tere were two ladies on the first tier under seth, kirk, chris, and wes. chris threw some crackers at we but he dropped them and they fell onto one of the lady's dinner plates. it was all downhill from there. we were pretty loud and obnoxious, and they were pretty mortified. i'm not really sure why, most indians here are louder than we are.
also, some guy on the train tried to get into bed with becca. creepy.
we are now in mcleod ganj, dharamsala, where the dalai lama and the rest of the tibetan government are located in exile, along with many tibetan refugees. it's one of the most beautiful places i have ever been. yesterday, mere, becca and i took a cooking class. we learned how to make momos (tibetan dumplings). it was well worth the 150 rupees i paid for it, and now i can make momos for all of you, in three shapes! exciting!
the guy who taught the class was named lhano, and while the dough was rising he told us how he came here (a story which many tibetans share here). in 1991, he left his family along with 20 other tibetans to walk here, across the himalayas. at one point, they had to hide from the chinese border patrol, high in the mountains in the snow for 6 days without food.
his mother was a chef, and taught him what he taught us, but he has not seen her since he left.
yesterday morning and this morning we had lectures at the buddhist insitute of dialectics, the first given by the translator for the dalai lama and the other by the director of the monastery. both were monks.
the lectures were incredibly interesting. it was good to hear about buddihism from the perspective of actual buddhists--it's very different than in philosophy class. the director had a cold of some sort, and every time he had to cough, he would throw a piece of his robe over his head to hide his coughing. it was funny.
this afternoon we went to one of the daily debate sessions in the courtyard of the institute. the debates are between monks or students at the institute, and ever though they are in tibetam, they are fun to watch. one person sits and defends while another stands and makes his argument. every time a point is made, the person takes a step forward and slaps his hands together, as if to say "so THERE." we were told the debates are largely about buddhist logic, probably way over our heads.
i can't describe how much i love this town. the people are incredibly kind, it's quieter than everywhere else we've been, and the culture and religion is one of the most fascinating i've had the privilage to witness. the food is good, the views are better. we are lucky that light tibetan food (along with many other kinds of non-indian food) came in the trip when it did. we're all sort of getting sick from too much indian food. i never thought that would happen.
and the kids. wow. so cute.
i can't tell you how much i love it. unfortunately, we leave tomorrow for delhi. i wish i could stay.
i've also forgotten to mention glucose biscuits. i can't tell you how much i love those, either. they're slightly sweet cookie-like things with glucose syrup in them. you can get TOO MANY for 10 rupees. i think i've gone an entire day eating only glucose biscuits, and i'm not joking.
mom: could you check if the plain yogurt at the supermarket is live culture? i've gotten addicted to it here. also, thanks for calling my boss for me. i have pretty presents for you.

i miss you all.
see you in a few days!

5.28.2005

it's where you come to get enlightened

i have been noticing that my journal writing is far different than my blog writing. here is an entry, hot from the presses from the little black book i try to be deep in.

may 27.
RISHIKESH.
i have stopped being sp surprised when i see white people, though almost none are americans or european, but israeli. apparently, after their obligatory military service, all the israeli twenty-somethings come here to relax. (molly--you would die, many very good looking israeli men, just the way you like them (that was not in my journal)).
ashrams, massage clinics, and yoga studios decorate the streets, along with ayurvedic herbal pharmacies and stores with clothes that make the psuedo-hippies sie (and me, of course).
i know i should find this place pretentious and slightly unnerving, but i love it. there are ways to get around the pretentiousness; the city is very holy for indians, so there are beautiful temples everywhere and pooja ceremonies in the morning and night. there is a river to sit by and watch the women wash their saris and lay the meters and meters of beautiful fabric out on the rocks to dry.
i feel like i could live here. it strikes a good balance with me.
though mere and i did get quite stressed on the way back from lackshman jhula (one side of rishikesh), hot, sweaty, and being harassed by rickshaw drivers and boys on scooters. sometimes, it's all too much.
thankfully, there is escape, whether in a fancy hotel like the great ganga or danny's small guest house room.
there was no escape in kedarnath, except to the mountains. mountains are nice, but not when you want a nice, warm bed with silence.
i suppose some people do not have that. i was about to say "do not have that luxury", but i do not necessarily thrink it's a luxury, even after all i've seen here.
everything is relative. it all depends.
this is my mantra here. when i let things i see make me feel guilty to the poiunt where i no longer appreciate what i have.
it sounds cold.
death by fire or death by ice?

i took yoga with danny and becca today.
it started at 8:00 am. becca and i took a rickshaw early in the morning across town. it was quiet, cool, and...i was content. it is a far different world here before 8 in the morning.
we met mere for breakfast at a "german bakery" that smelled like poop but had decent pastries that tasted like heaven, considering i've been avoiding indian desserts. far too sweet, not worth the sugar shock.
i tried yak cheese (in a sandwich) for the first time. it was quite good. strong. the way i like it.
after that came the death walk, and then too much roomservice (macaroni and cheese, bananna lassis, and veg pakoras) and watching "the fly" and "highlander" on tv with some other people not willing to brave the mid-afternoon heat.
yesterday we attended an enormous poojah in a ghat across the river. it was beautiful. music and fire and clapping...i think much more spiritually nurturing for me than kedarnath temple...but equally as interesting. the people in the temple looked scared, though. here they were all very happy.
becca and i heard them sing "natty bo" at some point, but it turned out to be "hare om."

i saw many shaved heads, men and women, cross the bridge yesterday. i have to find out why.

along with too many other things.

end of entry.

it's still early, but already we've hadfar too much excitement. the monkeys here are violent and crazy (one scratched mere the other day) and today they decided to take over the bridge. they were all over the place, making loud noises and threatening to jump on chris and i, trying to make it across without getting them mad. i wil never think monkeys are cute again. not even the little baby ones that are enveloped in their mother's bosoms. not even those, with their abnormally large eyes. baby monkeys are just as evil. i know you don't believe me. but trust me on this one.

5.25.2005

uber-headie

i just noticed the abominable spelling and grammar mistakes in my last post. i apologize; i don't ever feel like proofreading here, there is far too much to do.
seth has been making up some new slang here (perhaps we all need a lile piece of home sometimes...there are points when we feel like we have to assert our western-ness for some reason). uber-headie, plain uber (short for uber headie) and uber-prayag (which means river confluence in hindi) are now stables of the boy's vocabulary (darrion, chris, seth).
we are now in rishikesh, but much has happened since the last post.
right after i left the computer, meredith and i went shawl crazy and bought about 5 pashmina shawls each (some for gifts). i then took a little trip to the top of the mountain with chris, darrion, and seth with one of our amazing drivers. i forget his name, but he was "uber." he only knew a few english words, including "yes", "no", "i don't know" and "shut up." chris tried to teach him "what's up" but he told him to shut up. we had chai with him at a restaurant up there, and took some pictures with him (he insisted on taking about four with me, the last one in which he tried to kiss me and chris scolded him).
after dinner we shopped (more shawls, and a blouse MADE OUT OF THE SAME MATERIAL OF THE SHAWLS...sweet) and shopped (chris bought a traditional shirt-suit) and shopped (mer bought another shawl, too). at one point, we were sitting on some steps and a man came up to darren, greeted him, stared a him for awhile with a very enthralled look on his face, and knelt down and touched his feet. apparently, this guy thought darren was a sadhu, a holy man. interesting.
we also got our photos taken with a bunch of random people, but on their cameras. people were (and continue to be as we go along) extreme;y excited to see a westerner. we were wondering where they would put these photos...in their family album? their manle? what would they say about hem? " i KNOW these people!" maybe.
since mussoorie, we've been travelling around with a trekking company based here. our leader is krishna, who can do anything in my mind.
we went to rudaprayag (one of the holy river confluences here) and some of the bos and heather jumped off a cliff into it and got scolded by krishna.
a few das ago, we made our "pilgrimage" to kedarnath, a 14 km walk uphill, unless you got carried by a mule (or a person). i walked, with some ohers in the group.meredith and i bought matching orange-and-blue matching bonnet-like hats for the trip. we look too cool for school. the trek was exausting, but it took us right amidst some of the himilayas. it was breathtaking. then i realized there were mule and human feces EVERYWHERE, and i was stading in them.the town was crazy, with far oo many people, trash, and fake sadhus that demanded you hand them over 600 rupees. very unnerving. we got to visit he temple there, where shive was said to sink into the ground in the form of a bull.our school got blessed by one of the temple priests; the blessing was in hindi, though, so i didn't really understand, but i knew it was very important. it felt like something from indiana jones, us sitting in this wet, dark stone temple that smelled like inscense and burning ghee. it's amazing the contrast between churches in the states and this temple: immaculately clean vs. dank. but both holy places.
hough the temple experience was what we journeyed up for, i believe the hike up to the lake where some of ghandi's ashes were scattered was far superior. it was 4km, uphill and across deadly snowdrifts. the uphill was not so bad. the deadly snowdrifts were. they were very steep, with no trails (save the ones we forged ourselves) and one mistep would send you fling down the mountain, sled style. i slipped one, slid about ten feet, and fell into a hole, which was actually lucky because otherwise, i would have gone ALL the way down. the lake was beautiful, but the hike itself was what amazed me; the fact that those who went also walked up to kedarnath all the way. it felt good. like i could kick a fake sadhu's ass if i wanted to.
we left kedarnath without having showered in days, and wearing the same clothes we went up in. needess to say, we all (or, most of us) welcomed the cold shower that awaited us at the bottom. we stayed at somewhere i don't remember the name of, but the important thing is that a wedding procession was taking place the same night. we got invited to tag along, and proceeded to follow some dancing indians down the street to very loud music, dancing with people we didn't know. i got scolded for being in the front wih all the men, though, which was kind of embarrassing. i was supposed to be in the back with the other women. but they weren't dancing, so it wasn't as fun.
today we arrived here in rishikesh, the place where the beatles came to get enlighteed. there are tons of foreigners here; i am no longer as excited to see a white person (before now, we'd always smile and wave when we saw one. rebecca commented on this, saying "hey, you're white! i know you!"). it's a meditation/yoga/ayurveda place, slightly trendy, attracting western hippies from all over. the gu next to me is french.
it's very beautiful, but i have yet to explore it fully, so i'll stop here. again, far too much happens to cover. i think we're going to go swimming in the river now. hope all is well back home (and for those of you in france--by the way, i can't believe you're actualy coming home, kat! i will have MANY gifts for you when i body slam you in the airport).
perhaps i will get a massage tomorrow?

5.19.2005

country roads

well, i'm alive. we left delhi yesterday and we are now in mussoorie, a town in the "foothills" of the himilayan mountains. these "foothills" look like mountains to me. so, shall we start with the beginning?

the plane rides over here were long and largely uneventful, save for the free wine on the plane and the large amount of cheese i consumed in the amsterdam airport. oh, and the dog fecal matter right where we got off the plane in amsterdam that stunk up the entire hallway. we thought that's jut what amsterdam smelled like before we discovered the culprit.
even when we landed in delhi, i still didn't feel like this was all real. part of me felt like i was still in my world, just surrounded by indians. that soon changed, though, right when i got into the taxi we took to our hotel. everybody honks here more times than they breathe, and there is no rhyme or erason to traffic patterns. but it works; somehow, there is order, even when your driver decides it's a good idea to run a red light and drive on the wrong side of the road for awhile. and maybe threaten the lives of some school children walking home.
delhi was hot. that is the first word that comes to mind. the next word is intense. it was well above 100 degrees, and crossing the street always meant a gamble on your life. we walked around for awhile, just observing how things worked here, and getting to know the people. everybody was quite friendly, especially the people in the shopping stalls on this one street we all walked down. the minute they saw us, they knew who we were, and started calling to us and getting very excited about the prospect of us spending our money on their goods. one guy even shouted "CHA=CHING" when he saw us. i guess were pretty obvious.
we had lunch at the imperial, a fancy pants hotel; our special "welcome to india" meal. there were people there waiting on us hand and foot...it was very strange, because thismeal that would have cost an arm and a leg in the states was probably about $20-30. somehow, darren and danny got engrossed in creating the fictional chracter of "pete jagger", mick's son, who is a budding rockstar and is very popular in eastern europe.
i accidentally ate a piece of squid. it was good, but, you know, i don't eat meat.
the beds here are rock hard.
there are stray dogs everywhere.
the night before we came here, we went to red fort to see a sound and light show (which was...not what we expected) and on the way there we rode richshaws, bikes with carriages in the back driven my...well, rickshaww drivers. that was crazy, i have never been more scared for my life andyet had fun in my whole life. rickshaw drivers drive like people in cars, so if you can imagine no traffic laws in a vulnerable BIKE, you can maybe (MAYBE) imagine what this was like. buses barely missed us.
yesterday we spent most of the day getting here by train, which was actually really fun. we stood at this open door for much of the time, where nothing was really stopping us from hanging out, so we did, and said hello to all the people we saw on the way.
mussoorie is great. it's up in the mountains ("foothills") and almost everywhere you turn, there are incredible views. the food is delicious (almost all vegetarian) and cheap. i had parantha this morning (sort of like stuffed naan with potatoes and onions and such)for breakfast with chai for 50 rupies (a little over $1.00) and the same price bought a big dosa for lunch (with chai).
last night we went to a small bar here, just to hang out for awhile, but we ended up getting up and dancing and singing for most of it. you know, being typically loud americans. we wrote an incredible exquisite corpse, a kind of group poem, which betul said she would post somewhere. look for it. they were playing mostly american music, and for some reason, we just couldn't help ourselves. we sang "freefallin'" and "country roads" and "the wall" and SO MUCH MORE, and some other people at the bar started filming us. one thing i forgot to mention was our discovery of the techno band "q-kumba zoo" on the train ride up, and what do you know, they played it at the bar. "iit's the time to disco" we all sang as we jumped up and down. we even got some locals to join in on the fun.
the power just went out. that happens a lot here.
anyway, we all bonded profusely. i can tell this is going to be a great trip.
OH! and happy birthday, betul! i hope last night was just what you wanted for your fist birthday in india.
okokok, time to go. there is far too much to do!
know that this is not even half of what has heppned here. but how can i put into words something so...i don't even know.

oh cecilia! (india 2005 special edition)

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