Hello Everyone! Sorry for my lack of updates. Its been pretty tough finding the time to get at this blog. The internet is very slow, and there is only one computer, so a constant line prevents the spontaneous blog entry. I have lots to say, but I will have to give the condensed version for now.

Its strange being here, on the beach, in 35 degree heat, thinking about the Winter Olympics in Canada. Its a big deal. Canadian soil. Our time to shine. I'm actually kind of sad to be missing it. I like the hype and excitement, the long afternoons watching the Luge for some reason you can't understand. Its a constant topic of work conversation, always in the air, all around. I would be likely curling up with Jessica to watch some random event drinking hot drinks, or cold beers, cheering on what ever favorite team is competing that day. I forgot the Olmypics had started until someone mentioned Vancouver 2010 last night. The opening ceremonies came and went without my being aware. As i've said before. Its a different world over here.

I spent a few extra days in the town of Hampi. The quiet river side town with a laid back island attitude. The alluring landscape and inviting pace has a way of keeping you from leaving. My last day in this town was started with an early morning. I liked to watch the sun rise in this place, it came up over the mountains of boulders, peeking over the tops late in the morning so I didn't need to get up so early :) I spent the cool of the morning learning to climb the rock faces of the vast array of boulders. The climbing technique using a landing pad and a spotter is a great way to learn new skills, and strengthen those muscles you never knew you had. My spotter and new found friend with a mat was named Jason. He and I climbed until my fingers hurt, and just before the heat would prevent anyone sane from trying to be physical.

So as the heat was rising, we escaped the sun and retreated to the shade for a big breakfast and a few games of chess. Nothing is in a rush here, so the lingering breakfast brought me to the midday heat, a perfect time to swim :) We rented some shitty bikes for 50 rupees and hit the short road to the lake. The usual crowd of tourists mingled amongst the rocks, jumping and swimming in the afternoon heat. The usual crowd of excited Indian men in slacks and shirts watched the bikini clad tourists enjoying the sun. We watched the sun set into the mountains and slowly made our way back to our cozy guest house for some dinner.

The Next day was spent in transit. Another long overnight sleeper bus took us back towards the coast. A bumpy ride in a coffin sized box shared by two six foot two men. Head to foot we clambered into the box and prepared for a fitful night of poor sleep. The grates at head and foot of the bed allowed us to make contact with our neighbors, who laughed at John and I for our contorsion efforts in our sleeper cell. The length of the box was 6 feet long, around 3 and half feet wide, and just tall enough to sit up in. I reflected on my motivation for travelling and had difficulty seeing the allure to this endeavor at that exact moment. But the downs make the ups feel higher, and the story will get a laugh. The worst had yet to come, and as the bus stops and we unload the bus in the middle of nowhere, we are told a mini bus will come and pick us up "soon". So 15 other tourists and myself are left in some truck stop at 4:30 in the morning like some kind of shipment or cattle, and patiently wait in the dark for a mystery bus. We are all relieved when the next leg of our journey starts, and happy to arrive in the new town of Gokarna at 6:30 in the morning. A quick breakfast and a rickshaw to the beach completes of jounrney and marks the start of another short beach retreat.

We came to Gokarna to get back on the railway line, an access point to the rest of the south. This beach town was recomended and was featured as a great place to view the massive Shiva festival taking place across the country. A 40 minute hike across a cliff side trail brought us to the secluded haven of paradise beach. We managed to re join our group of friends, and found huts in the same resort. This place has only 3 establishments that offer the most basic accomodations, each with its own restaurant and housing only for the working staff. Thats it. The 200 meter wide cove is flanked by large headlands rising steeply out of the sea, isolating this small place from the rest of the world.

I had a hard time relaxing here. I have already had a beach vacation, have had enough of the salt and sun. I was struck by a kind of guilt, as if I was wasting my time in India, by removing myself so far from all that is Indian. There are no true locals in this place, only Indian people who live and work to keep this tourist operation going. I had a hard time justifying sitting on this beach when all I can think about is how much I miss Jessica. I had a hard time justifying the sacrifices I made at home to be here. I came here to experience the world, see the culture of India and grow from these encounters. I battled this subtle guilt, until I came to realize that travel is alot like life.

Well, actually it is life. Each day on the road of travel is like a day in the world at home. We have good days and bad days. Some days are so filled with activity, so filled with accomplishments and completed goals, that we go home and sleep in the night, satisfied with our success of the day. We ran, or did yoga, we learned something new in school or made a contact at work, a great dinner was made, and we finally crossed that lingering task of the endless list.. We feel fulfilled and happy. Thinking today was a good day.

Then we have days that we wake up late for work. It rains on that same day we forget the umbrella and miss the bus. Work goes late, so dinner is rushed and eaten at some unhealthy fast food place. TV is the only activity our battered bodies can bear before going to bed. We think on these days that nothing good came of our actions, our day was a waste. But tomorrow is another day.

Travel is no different. Each day cannot be totally culturally enriching. Some days there is simply nothing to see. Not much to do. Some days must be spent just waiting for a festival to start. Some days, like the day following today, will be spent on an 18 hour train ride, spent sitting watching the world go by, seemingly wasting precious time that is worked so hard to afford. Wasting time that is made through a sacrifice of an aching heart. I think why am I here? I just want to be home!

But then there are days like yesterday. A day that makes it all justified. A good reason for missing my girlfriend so god damn much, a reason for being away from my family and friends, the reason I don't own a car. The reason I sacrifice my weekends throughout the year, so I can save enough money to fly to strange parts of the world by myself.

We walked the steep path out of our beach side paradise to catch the local public bus into town. Our 7 rupee fare brought us 45 minutes down the highway that accesses the various beaches along the coast. As we passed through the scattered developments of town, families boarded the shaky bus dressed in their sunday best. Elegant saris, clean pressed slacks and hair looking just so. The people boarded the bus, headed for the street festival, ready to see the crowds and give thanks to a powerful lord.

We arrive as the sun is setting. We wander the streets lined with stalls selling clothes and wares. Food stalls and people selling the bright coloured dyes in preparation for the upcoming Holi festival. We wandered down the narrow lanes towards the town beach, eager to see the sun fall into the ocean and signal the start of the 3 day celebration. We worked our way to the beach and came to the rows of beggars each posted in lines stretching the length of soccer fields, with blankets outstretched and arms reaching. The tarps were pressed into the sand making pools of cloth, these depressions filled with rice. It seems the poor of the country come to this place, and are given handfulls of rice by the more fortunate, a symbolic gesture that represents the ancient caste system of this devoted people. The masses of people flooding the beach mingled and watched as the sun disappeared and we began to make our way back through the mess of the town, towards the shopping stalls and food vendors.

As we retraced our steps towards the top of town, the crowd seemed to have trippled. The setting sun had marked the frenzie to reach a temple and offer prayer. The streets swelled beyond capacity, a mass of people bottle necked and forced through the narrow spaces. I shuffle along behind the man in front of me as I feel hands on my hips, and realize mine have come to rest on the shoulders in front of me. Of arms are being pressed on each side by the bodies around me. I am tightly packed on all sides in a giant progression of a congo line. As we pass through this narrow part, and the widening street alows room to breath, I feel the familar tug at my shirt and the tug at my hands. The beggar children are sent through the streets to collect alsm and make you feel bad about being human. I playfully grasp back to the unseen hand behind me instead of pulling away as many do in instinct. This exchange of hands goes on for several seconds more, before the small figure sneaks along me side as the crowd opens slightly. I look back expecting the pathetic stare of hollow eyes, pleading for one rupee. I am suprised to be greeted by an elderly woman no bigger than a child. A tiny frame in a beautiful red sari. This woman does not ask me for money, instead she looks at me with some anxiety in her face, and reaches again for me hand. I realize from her fearful look that the gongestion of the streets is causing this tiny woman difficulty, and all she want is some help through the mess. I put my arms over her shoulder, a half hug, letting her know I would see that she gets through this mess ok. I take her hand in mine, leading her through the mass of people side by side like mother and child. An unlikely pair walking the streets of India. She helping me every bit as much as I helped her. We continue downt he road in this unknown direction, following the flow of people away from the beach. A quick veer to the left signals me that she has safely reached her destination, a temple doorway through which she slips away. Before leaving she meets her hands in prayer and bows slightly in thanks for my assistance. I return the same and thank her equally for the opportunity to be a good person.

I left this encounter feeling warm and inspired, and as the festival raged on I took time to absorb the feeling of this place. There is so much more to express about this highly charged event, the energy of this devotion. The endless lines of people stretched out waiting to pass through the temples and pay respect for the gods. A procession of torches leading a chariot, which carries the high priest. Taking money in exchange for blessings. So much to describe, but I cannot take the time at this moment to fully explain the power of this place.

I am headed to Trivandrum to start a one week yoga course. I leave on an over night sleeper train tonight at 11:35, an 18 hour train ride. I'm excited about the retreat. I may have another week of no additions but I will try to get some more pictures up soon.

Thanks for reading. Love you all. Miss you all.

Tommy :)