You might wonder how someone is able to take a peek at the Dalai Lama is his personal residence in India.

It just a matter of good timing, the right place and a good seat. The Dalai Lama lives in a small town called Mcleod Ganj, at a temple complex for a few weeks out of the year. He has a few different homes around the world and stays at these while speaking. I happened to visit this town, which I didn't know he lived. I happened to be in town when he was speaking. So I walked down the road and went through the security check, sat down on the steps and waited amongst the faithful.

A second closed room would be used for his talks, but the open courtyard is for puplic audience. The man walks through the courtyard and up a flight of steps. I didn't get a chance to sit and contemplate buddhism over tea... But I did see the greying of his hair, and his distinctive half smile.

My encounter was brief, but I could feel his presence and the power he had over his followers. I was star struck for the first time in my life. Meeting some movie star doesn't really do it for me. But the Dalai Lama is just different.

Thats my story. Wish I could say we had a lifechanging talk. But a quick glimpse was pretty cool anyway.

March 1st

So its come time to leave Mathura. Aside from the temples, and the annual Holi festival, little else draws the traveler to this place. Mainly an industrial town, the dirty streets and polluted waters make the stay a challenge. The tourist draw creates a competative sale, and the constant hassle becomes too much. I'm happy to leave.

I board a bus at 1pm to Delhi. A stop over in the citybefore an overnight sleeper train towards the northern town of Dharamsala. I'm happy for the company of Martin and Neel, two friends who had themselves painted from head to toe with me at the festival. We make the 4 hour trip in 28 degree heat, sweating in the cramped back seat sharing the bench with our luggage and the rotation of various Indians. The bumpy slow bus arrives on the outskirts of town, and after haggling for the best rickshaw rate, we again climb into our cramped quarters and head off into the city. I have a few hour to spare before my journey continues. We have lunch and exchange the cursory e-mail contacts, and then I kill an hour at the internet cafe, updating my blog ;)

So my train departs at 9pm. I had verified my seat, and train at the New Delhi station that afternoon. I assumed of course that this was the correct boarding site. I arrived at the station with a half hour grace, to buy some water, snacks and get my seat before departure. So when I look to the train listings, and I can't find my train number I get a little worried. I quickly ask the nearest official, and i'm told my train leaves from OLD Delhi station. Information I thought would have been given when confirming me seat...

So its now 20 minutes to 9, I have to get across a large section of one of the busiest cities in the world. My rickshaw driver is encouraged for the first time by me, to drive like hell and get me there fast. My fears of collision are lessened by my need to catch the train. So as we weave through traffic, I'm thinking more about my train than near death. We reach the station, and I dart across the street, thankful for my experience in Indian J walking. I push and shove like the best of the Indians, rushing my way up the stairs and to my platform. I scan the listings as I rush up the stairs and luckily find my train with ease. But as I'm descending the stairs, I see my train in motion. Its starting up slow, but moving none the less. I run along the train, and catch onto the first car I see. I pull myself up into the car as the train picks up pace. I sigh relief and next figure out which car I'm on, and which car I should be on. I start working my way down the cabins, passing between cars, and towards the front of the train.

I've passed through at least 7 train cars before I reach a locked gate. A barrier which separates 2nd, from 1st class. I groan with frustration realizing I need to wait for a stop in the route, to get to the next car. To my relief, I feel the train slow, and gradually stop. Its between stations, a stretch of track in some unknown part of the city. So I grab up my bag and guitar, and push my way towards the doors. I poke my head out and look up towards the next car, i cross my fingers and climb down onto the gravel. I have a moment when I realize now that I'm in the middle of the city, in some desolate stretch of train track, and that i really, really need to get to the next car. So I dash to the next ladder and climb back into the safety of the train. Just a brief moment, but scary all the same. I work my way down, and find another locked door, but this one is luckily able to be opened by the staff, and I can avoid the risk of being left at the track side again.

At last I'm on the right car, I find my bunk and I can finally stretch out and relax! I make my bed and read a chapter before passing out for a great sleep. My journey is not over yet.

March 2nd

I disembark from one train at 7:15, and board another. Within 20 minutes I'm moving again, up and towards the mountains. I'm leaving the town of Pathankot elevation 331 meters, destined for the mountain town of Dharamsala at 1,457 meters. The narrow gauge line weaves its way up a steep track, offering my first glimpse of the mighty Himalaya mountains. I look out the window at the distant peaks in awe, the completion of a dream since I first saw Canada's own Rocky Mountain range.

The end of my train journey is continued with two more buses. Further climbing into the mountains, up to an elevation of 2,082 meters in McLeod Ganj. Its around 1 pm in the afternoon, and a full 24 hours of travel. Some 1800 meter in elevation and I'm on another planet.


McLeod Ganj is a community of exiled Tibetan refugees. Home of His Holiness, the 14th Dalai Lama. I feel as though I'm in a different country here. The air is crisp and clear. The streets are immaculate. The population is largely Tibetan. Maroon robes fill the streets, casting a calm and peaceful feeling across the city. The place is small, only 3 main streets, and surrounded only by two tiny villages higher in the mountains. Towards the valley one can see the rolling foothills of the great mountains. Uphill, the snow capped peaks are seen.

Today I saw the Dalai Lama. I am rarely star struck. I could care less to see the stars of Hollywood. But when this man walks through a courtyard, silence falls and people watch. The calm, smiling face puts everyone at ease. I sat and wondered in my mind how this man who was forced to leave his home, forced to watch as his people are systematically erradicated, how he can stay peaceful. How does he smile despite the pain and suffering he is forced to manage and deal with. I was shocked to read the postings in the Tibetan museum today. I'm shocked and disturbed that this injustice continues today. 1.2 million people died in the last 50 years. I am shocked that I knew nothing of this.

I urge anyone to educate themselves on the issue if nothing else.

I am leaving this wonderful place today. I am sad to leave after only 3 days, as this has by far been the greatest place i have seen in India. I have made friends with ease here. As a popular travel destination, I have even run into some people I met in Mathura and Agra. Martin from Holi, and the Red Faced German from my blog traveled here the day after I arrived. I saw them in the street and shared a dinner with some others. If there is a place that I will visit again, this is it. On my next trip to India, this will be a good starting point.

I'm headed home soon! March 9th I'll arrive at 4:10pm. I'm sad to leave Mcleod Ganj, But I am soo excited to leave India. I have never missed my home or my family more. I miss my wonderful, patient and Loving girlfriend so much. I can't wait to share some of these experiences in person, and to share the images I have captured.

Talk soon everyone, Thanks for reading :)

Some more Holi! I Found fast internet and its Raining...



This is just a favorite picture I wanted to add from Delhi.

The Holi festival lasts over two weeks here in Mathura, the birthplace of Krishna. A Holi place if you will.

March 28th is marked with bonfires. An ancient ritual used to signify the burning of an ancient god, the death of an evil man. Though I'm unsure of the history, I am eager to be witness to the ceremony.

A shrine sits in waiting for the fire. It rests atop a massive pile of these discs shaped out of cow manure. Plate sized patties of shit left to dry in the sun, the sacred fuel for this sacred fire. Held together with wood and rope, the pile reaches four feet high, 8 feet squared. The Idol waits. The fire is not set to light for another hour so Martin, Neel, Jochem, and our two Indian friends from Dehli head to check out their hotel as they are eager and excited to show us the digs. We share whiskey and coke, but the devout Hindus deny our offers. Happy to enjoy the festival and need no extra celebration help, stating that being so close to this temple, and here in this town is intoxicating enough. So we finish our drinks and head back to watch the blaze. We approach as the flames just start, and as we reach within 20 feet we can feel the intensity of the heat. A crowd has gathered and the energy is palpable, the smiling faces and wide eyes lit from the fiery light. I feel the trickle of sweat down my face as I near the blaze, trying for the perfect picture. I snap a few portraits and by now its beyond hot, too much to handle.

We vacate the area, having seen enough. We head back to our hotel roof top to celebrate this foreign festival further. Three is a crowd, 5 is a group, and 10 is a party. We have drinks and music and within no time the dancing starts. We keep it authentic and move to the music as the locals do. Hands in the air, twirling and dancing like a bollywood star. The moon is full and the cool night air brings an amazing vibe that persists into the night. A Magical night with an International group. Sweden, Germany, England, America, Holland, Canada, Spain, Brazil.

I'm woken by the sound of drums, the shrill cries of excitement from the street. I'm groggy eyed from a late night atop the roof, dancing Indian style till the early morning hours. I have the same eager excitement as I get on Christmas morning, ready to run down and get the festivities started. I shower quickly and don my pure white clothes. I rush through the streets to grab a quick bite to eat, trying to avoid the mob of Indian boys with buckets of paint water.

I wolf down a spicy dish and I'm back to the hotel, managing to avoid the barrage of colour that awaits. I'm up the stairs and preparing my artillery for the showdown. I have paint water balloons, a water gun with colour water, bags of the Holi coloured powder. I am wearing my yet to be painted canvas of white. The first splash comes when I least expect it. The stream of dark green water hits my back and neck from below. Beneath me two boys have staked claim in the courtyard and shoot up towards me on the first floor balcony. The others have woken, eaten and are readying themselves too for the battle. Its time to show these young lads the advantage of higher ground. I race into the bathroom and fill the shower bucket with water. I creep around the side of the hotel, and with perfect aim I drench the first with a direct hit. Powder follows and before long, the attackers vanish, admitting defeat.

We convene as a group and the coloured water balloons are filled. A second round of battle begins and the street crowd below dodges the raining colour. A mad looking mob of coloured men surround the gates of our hotel, keeping us from making our way down to the street level. So we continue our attack from above. The bandits loose interest and wander down the street in search of easier targets to drench in the dark red soupy water.

We reach the ground and fan out in army style, keep watch and scouting a path. The war has just begun and we are in the trenches. The first bucket lands on Neel's head, the first fatality of Holi. His entire left side is marooned. We return fire and manage some damage in our rival colour green. As we work down the street the attacks are unavoidable, and soon we are smeared, painted and drenched head to foot in the rainbow colours of this amazing festival.

We hailed a taxi to the next town over, but have missed the prime action. We wander the streets and view the temples, wishing the passersby a Happy Holi and Hare Krishna. The occasional blessing of colour is given from the people, a gentle rubbing of powder across the forehead, against the cheeks and atop the head.

We end our day with a group photo and a final dousing of colour to each other, marking the end of a great Holi. We retire to our rooms and attempt with little success to remove some of the deeply stained colour.

I sit here in Dehli on my way to Dharmsala with green paint in my nails, and the light tint of yellow still on my ears. My face has a purple hue, but I am cast no strange looks. Well, no more strange looks than a big white guy in India gets. The colour is a symbol of my participation of this great holiday.

I am so happy to have been a part of this time here in India. From dancing in temples, to soaking locals in colour, I feel like I'm blessed to be a part of this.

I'm off to see the home of the Dali Lama, and to view the Himalaya mountains. A dream of mine since I first heard of these magnificent mountains. I am dreaming of the snow capped peaks.

I am also dreaming of home :) After the mountain retreat, I will be boarding my flight home. These past weeks will mark the perfect end to a great experience. One I will never forget.

Thank you all for letting me share such a great time in my life with you all. Love you, Miss you.

Tommy

The Holi Crew. What a gong show.

Pretty intense

We look like zombies!

Its Almost Holi and there is excitement in the air.
I'll have the details up soon, and hope to have some picture to share in the coming days. If you want some more reading, my friend Jon I travelled with keeps a great blog, Lots more details of our travels together. Check it out
http://www.whereisjon.com/
Hope you Enjoy it :)

Mathura - India

I have left the tourist saturated town of Agra, and have happily made my new temporary home in Matura. The town is renowned for being host to the most revered temple of Shri Krishna-the famous Krishna Janma Bhoomi Mandir. The temple is the place where lord Krishna is said to have been born thousands of years ago. This is significant because in a days time, the town will celebrate the biggest festival of the year, and I am in the town where it is celebrated the biggest. I imagine this festival to be a crazy combination of colour, dance and devotion.

The past two days spent here have been action packed already. As the town celebrates Holi for 16 days leading up to the final day, a certain energy exists in the place. There are travellers from all over India who come to praise lord Krishna, and view the site of the great lords birth. The streets are packed and the sales people are on full power.

I was lucky on my first morning to arrive at the temple as an event was taking place. I entered through the gates and made my way towards the mosh pit style crowd. Like a rock concert for Hindu's, a huge set of marble stairs were filled like bleachers, watching the floor space go crazy. On the ground level a play fight interaction was unfolding between some middle aged women and men dressed in costume. As the crowd of young men grew closer to the play fighters, the women would suddenly lash out at the crowd, beating the asses of the closest boys. This sent the crowd into a mob, pushing and shoving away from the assualt with huge intensity. I was happy to be a foot taller than the majority of Indian boys, so I could keep on my feet and avoid being trampled. But as this game of cat and mouse continues, the boys creep ever closer to the action, risking a beating, and seeing who can get closest.Of course I am urged forward, at this point unknowing of the potential bamboo beating. So that was how I learned first hand about the crazed middle aged women. I was gradually pushed to the front lines, and stood nervously near the edge of crowd, trying to find out what they were running from the first times. I saw the play fighting, and just as I'm about to duck back into the crowd, a woman breaks from her choreogrphy, and swings hard at my ass, I take the hit, and push into the crowd, I take two more hits to my legs and back before I cam able to shield myself with the first Indian I can grab. I laughed at myself then, and again now when I look back, picturing my self physically holding a small Indian man in front of me, using him as a shield from the beating of a middle aged Indian woman with a bamboo pole!

The colour was a deep pink that day. During the battles, people atop the surrounding roof tops threw handfuls of the powder dye down upon the crowd. Silver and gold confetti was mixed in with the mess, and those in the area walked out covered head to toe in these hues. I was late for the colours, arrive as the battle was finishing, having just enough time to get my ass beat before the celebration ceased and the shrine opened for viewing.

The local people, those of Hindu faith consider viewing the shrines of deity's to be as exciting as throwing colours and beating people with poles. The same excitment was evident as I followed the crowd through the inner workings of the grand temple. The clotrophobic, dark and narrow hallways led to a cave like room. A priest sat accepting donations and giving blessings as devotess by the thousands stream through, bowing, praying and reciting mantra. We exit through the other end, back along another narrow, dark hallway and out into the square.

I reflect on the devotion of these people, thinking hard about this celebration and the influence religion plays in the lives of these people. I have seen people lying flat at the entrance of shrines, rolling side to side, arms stretched over head, like a log roll back and forth in the name of god. I have seen tears and joy, excitment bording on riot. I observed one particular shrine. This building was designed like a childrens ammusment ride at a fair ground. The exterior is decorated as a massive fake mountain, shaped like boulders and surrounded by ponds and trees. In the yard in front, and herd of animals and sheppards are there for show. 3 rupees buys an entrance, and whole families line up to view the sacred insides. I throught to myself while I watched the procession of people enter and exit the building that this is like Canada's Wonderland for Hindu's. There are sweets sold, entertainment is all around, the rides are kind of lame, but essentially they have the same effect. I spoke further with a few travellers I met, and we discussed the same idea, and it seems that this society simply has a larger space for religion. We in the west have filled that need with our over abundance of social security and wealth. One guy even compared corporate infrustructure to ancient religion, with the CEO being the new priest. We are now devoted to the almighty dollar, praying that our jobs will bring us the happiness we pray for.

I still think its all smoke and mirrors. Literally. I sat yesterday in a temple that we were directed to by an unoffical "guide". This gentleman was so very helpful, gladly showing us around a particular temple, of course with no mention of wanting money. But of course that will come after he provides his great educational service to us. Anyway, were led into a temple, a beautiful hall lined to the ceiling with reflective glass and colorful tiles, light bouncing off in intricate patterns. The insence are burning and wisps of smoke arc across the room, adding to the spiritual vibes. The two priests sit atop the low stage, and greet people as they arrive. We are urged to sit and recieve the offering, make a prayer and have a small fortune told. I sit back a little, choosing to just observe rather than partake. The girls I was touring the temple with eagerly sat and were handed a silver egg attached to a silver basket, as you pull the egg, the basket shakes. 3 pulls and your wishes will come true. A sprinkle of holy water, a flower necklace and 100 rupees later, your umm, Blessed?

I sat back and just observed because I don't see the point. I don't believe any of it, I think its nice, fun to watch, great to think about and observe. But I don't believe. I don't think for a second that shaking an egg or wearing blessed flowers will bring me anything good in my life. I also don't think eating some stale craker at church is the flesh of christ, to me its all just smoke and mirrors. So when I'm asked for my donation, I kindly refuse, considering I didn't participate. I say the the guide, the man asking for me to donate, that My god is Free...

Whatever my god is. Its not Flowers, its nor insense, its not shaking some silver egg in a glass temple. I'm just here to watch. I've seen how much joy it brings to the people around me, the Hindu people. So I'm glad to see it, but not for me. I'm just here to throw some colorful dye and dance around silly in the street :)

After we left the temples, the girls I hung out with for the day were off to Agra, and I was left to my own to entertain myself. I went back to the temple near my hotel, the place of krishna's birth. A place where it seems something is always happening. I lined up and walked around the temple but not much was happening. So I sat on the empty stairs that were used as bleachers the day before, and watch the crowd mill about. I noticed a slow procession towards the shrine at the top. So I wandered towards the excitment. I entered the interior temple and was greeted with the rhythm of drums and chimes, a man was up and singing, while a crowd sat cross legged watching. I sat with the crowd and clapped along to the song. I was greeted with friendly smiles, warm welcoming. So when the song changed tempo and intensity, the crowd jumped up and the dancing began. I'm right in the middle now, no way to avoid dancing, so I forget it all and join in with the best of them. I'm jumping and spinning, laughing uncontrolably as I dance the silly indian dance. I screw in the light bulb, I pat the dog. I let my hips go and roll my shoulders like a bollywood star. I lock arms with a man and spin around the room, laughing and yelling. I have never felt so silly and comforable at the same time. I felt like a fool the way I was dancing, but it turns out I was doing well, as silly as I felt. The other mimicked my dance moves, and I copied thiers. We would pair up and challenge each other like a dance off, repeating the dance they did, and answering back with some new move. I had a great time. I realized that this fun, this dance and singing, it is all in the name of their devotion to God. So despite the smoke and mirrors, the cash grab in temples. I guess it brings the people together.

Anyway, just my thoughts.

Buddyjoe16@hotmail.com

Feel free to write me, would love to hear from you all. Thanks for reading.

I'll let you know how the big day goes tomorrow. :)

Hi Everyone,

Quick update:My Trip and therefore The blog will continue for a few more weeks, as I have been through the most frustrating ordeal changing my return flight. Apparently the time I want to fly is very popular. I have booked the next flight home on March 9th..

So I'm in Agra, the town which hosts the Taj Mahal. I really don't know what to say about the Taj itself. Its indescribable, a true wonder of the world. I have 50 pictures that I'm sure will do little better to depict the grandeur and majesty of this structure. Few sights have left me so speechless. To describe it visually would be futile, as it is likely the most photographed monument in the world, each of us have seen countless postcards. I simply can't put the experience into words. You will just have to go see it yourself.

So instead of rambling on about the Taj, I have a few quick stories about my time short time in Dehli, and my stay here in Agra. First of all, I feel bad for anyone who starts the trip in Dehli, and worse for those whose second experience in India is Agra. These places are so different from the south, apart from the hospitality that I experienced. Far from the generous, friendly and caring people I met along my way the last 5 weeks. Dehli and Agra, along with Jaipur, form the golden triangle, a tourist circuit that is immensly popular. An easy and well defined tourist trail. The tourist draw of the Taj Mahal brings more people annually than the entire population of the town. As a result of the constant flow of travellers, and wide eyed tourists, the people have come to develop a keen sense of how to rip you off, there is a constant effort made to sell you something. I am a walking wallet.

Last night was a prime example. I had viewed the Taj, and seen the nearby Agra fort in the day, getting my tourist quota filled for the day. I decided to end my night with a more authentic endeavor. I made my way down the road to check out the locals fair. This fair is set up for a week, and features the typical attractions of any western style fair. Greasy food, rides, entertainment, and loads of crap for sale. The lights and people around me were overwhelming in the way that I enjoy. I stopped in to check out the main stage performance. A live performance of Dance India Dance was featured, and the crowd was going wild. I'd say more like excited. An Indian style of Wild. I became a little frustrated, I was unable to just take in the attractions, to just wander the streets unnoticed. I suppose its to be expected, but I was growing tired of being asked where I was from, and being asked where I was going. I wanted to scream "I'm just walking here! Looking, leave me alone". I drew a bigger crowd of attention when I stood in the audience of the concert performance, nearly half the crowd turning to gaze at the single white guy amongst the group. Over top of the loud music, people were still asking me the same 3 stupid questions, and I eventually just ignored them and watched.

So as I arrived to the fair, I was approached by a young boy. A nice looking kid approached me, eager to talk and happy to show me towards the entry gate. I assumed he was interested in the big white guy, as so many others are, interested to chat, with no ulterior motive. I said I wanted to eat, and I was shown to the food. I ordered something that looked good as it was served, and of course, as I should have known, my new "friend" is also very hungry, and of course, big brother who has all the money in the world, would gladly spring for the bill..

I figured that since he was very helpful in helping me find my way, the littlt guy deserved the dollar I spent on his meal. What bothered me was when the shop owners have me looks that questioned our friendship. They got a little mad at the boy, saying something in Hindi which gave the boy a sheepish, guilty look. I heard the word guest, and could gather from the tone that the older men were upset that the boy was intentionally working me to get money, food or gifts from me. I realized the young buy had the idea from the start that he would get what he could from me, never really caring about me in any way. It just sucked, cause so many others have just genuinely been nice, and helpful because I am a guest to India, and because I'm a different looking white dude in a small town.

So I dodged the kid at the concert, right after he asked if I wanted to go to the rides. Meaning, the little shit wanted to take a few rides, and wanted to see if I would pay for my "friend" too.. I wandered some more, and since I was up early to see the Taj at dawn, grew tired quickly. So as I was approached by another guy I was not too thrilled to chat, but let the same formalities unfold. I was from Canada, my name is Thomas, I have a girlfriend, etc etc. I was thrown off a little, and intrigued when the guy around me age started talking about women. A curious chat, a search apparently on how to talk to girls, seeking advice on how to talk to girls. I endulged the chat, and humerously gave what I knew, underlying the fact that women are a strange species, very far and different from men, and that we will never understand them. My advice was simply not to try, and just to just be nice, smile and say genuine, nice, sweet things. I don't think you can go wrong with that..

The conversation got a little boring, and I told the guy good luck, said I was on my way home. Since I walked, the guy was eager to help me out with a lift on his bike. My new friend, my second new friend, wanted to be nice and get me home faster. So we find his bicycle and we double ride out the gates and away from the fair. I realized right away that we were headed the opposite direction I had came, but still towards my hotel, thinking maybe he would take the inner streets back. He seemed to know my hotel and we kept chatting as we rode along. My ass grew sore from the steel frame, so I rode for a bit while he sat on the back. This got a few laughs in the street as we passed by, the polar opposite situation of usual. So we leave the small streets and enter the larger surrounding street, at this point clearly not the fastest way back to my hotel, but still I have an Idea where I am, and think that by bike, it might still be faster.

This is where things get hairy. My new friend starts his plee, the I'm a very poor man, I have no money, is there anything you can do to help. I got mad inside, this same pitch, the work involved to create a relationship of understanding, only to use it to get something in return. I fumed a little, but simply said I can only offer my friendship, and giving money would ruin that. I also gave free advice, and that should be more than enough. As we ventured what seemed further away from my hotel, and as the man persisted to ask for just a few Dollars, I became outwardly angry, I confronted him. I asked if he had thought to ask me for money when he first met me. I could tell he had set me up, realized now that he took me a long way from where I should be, an attempt to get more time to work the money from me. So when he says, "oh, this is my home, your hotel is that way, I can take you, but what should my charge to take you be?"

I said fuck you. I said no more friends, I'll walk home. "But how do you get home, you don't know where you are?" The scam artist says. I'll figure it out. I'd rather pay a taxi than your cheater ass, now get out of my sight. I found a cop, got my bearings and headed in the direction of my hotel. This was for the first time in India, that I was truly scared. I walked with fists clenched through the dark streets alone, away from the tourist hotels, at 1230pm. The alleys were dark, and my mind would race as I saw men on cell phones, worried about being set up for an ambush. The scammer had seen my camera, had known I had my Ipod, would assume I had some cash.

I pushed on, relieved when I began to see familiar places, and then relaxed when I knew the right route to take. I was absolutley thrilled to see the doors of my hotel took a deep breath when I sat on my bed. I was also very angry, disappointed with the Indian people, a terrible impression of the Indian culture. A reason I feel so bad for those who come to Agra as a second stop on their Indian Travels.

So I hope none of you take this story and worry, I was safe the whole time. Its just the way things are sometimes.

So what can I say about Dehli. I didn't see much to be honest, I was tired from my flight, and the ordeal I underwent changing my flight, so I spent my first day just walking through the main market outside my hotel. I'll have a few more days in town to see some sights on my way out, but wont be too upset if I miss the city..

So let me tell you about my trip to Agra.

I wandered over to the nearby train station the day before I planned to see the Taj. The international tourist office was closed at the time, the lines to reserve tickets were jammed. So when a well dressed man asked me if I wanted to take a bus, I figured, sure why not. I decided I would see what he had to offer. I ended up at his office across from the train, and decided not to take the 450rp bus he suggested. I simply went back to my hotel to think, still after 5 weeks in India I'm shell shocked in this mass of a city. I regrouped my thoughts, and decided to make another attempt to find a way to Agra. I was again approached and show to an office, but given a better price, in a better looking bus. I went ahead and booked a ticket for 350 rp, to Agra, and a few stops along the way. I was happy with my purchase, and felt that it was a fair deal. So I packed my bags the night before, set my alarm and got excited about seeing the Taj Mahal the next day!

Wrong. I set my alarm wrong. It was scheduled to go off at 5:30pm, rather than the 5:30 am need to get me downstairs for the 6am pick-up. So when I woke at 6:15, I scrambled out of bed, and checked out, and ran off down the street in hopes of seeing a waiting coach bus nearby. Wrong again. 350 rp wasted on a bus that I will never take. This loss however didn't sting as much as being ripped off, I only had myself to blame.

So its 7:30 am now. I have my bag over shoulder and ready to go to Agra. I decided to give the train another shot, prepared to push and shove amongst the rest to get a ticket and get there. I was pleased to find an empty line, and booked a ticket to Agra for 69 rp. General Class. :)

Let me just explain general class..

There are no seats assigned, you lucky if you have a square of train to stand on. But at the start of the trains journey, the tin has yet to be fully packed, I am able to get into the train, and make my way to the overhead seats. The "seats" are essentially overhead luggage storage with enough room to sit upright and which can accomodate around 4 people across.

I am surrounded by Indian people, surely the only white person on board the car, and I'm welcomed fully with open, albeit curious arms. I sit up on my perch and stow my bags, and settle in for the 4 hour journey. I manage to get my yoga mat out and on the bench, my legs stretched out to rest on the opposite bench from me. I have to admit that the arrangement was actually more comfortable than some of the sleeper train I can ridden this trip. I didn't have anyone try to rip me off, and I made it there in the same time I would have by bus. SO despite the lost 350 rp. I was pleased to be in the city.

Ok. This has been a big entry. My ass is numb.

Thanks for reading :)

So I have another big announcement..

I've decided to come home early. Its been decided for a while, I pretty much knew I would be coming home early even before I left, I just wanted to give myself the time if I found I wanted it.
India is a big place. Its hard to see both the north and the south in one trip, and impossible to see it all in any amount of time. There is so much diversity that it would take years to see it all. So instead of seeing a small amount of the north, an area so different from the south, i've decided to save it all for another time. Nepal and the Himalayas will have to wait, but I will be back.

I have many reasons for coming home, but mainly, I just feel like it. I've had enough. I got the travel bug out of me. I saw some really powerful things in my past weeks, a fraction of which I have been able to share with you all. I miss my home. I miss my family and friends. I miss my girlfriend more than anything in the world. Being away from her has been the hardest thing I've had to do. I don't want to be apart any more.

So I'm looking into flights. I'm waiting for the reservation person to sort out some details but I should be able to get outta here by the end of the month. I'm going to spend the next few days getting over to see the Taj Mahal, and exploring this massive crazy city.

I'll let you know more about my trip when I get home. I plan to write an afterward. A section of entries that I didn't have time to share while on the road. The long lost notes of my trip. I've kept a detailed journal and have lots more to share. So if you've been enjoying the read, I'll be keeping it up for a little while after i'm back :)

Thanks again to everyone who has been following. I really am very glad to be able to share this trip with you. It means a lot to me.

Ps. Aunt Sam. I meant to answer that I mailed the suits home in a big package.

And to let you all know I'm taking some antibiotics and i'm starting to feel better. I would love to host a gathering at the house when I get back to show some more pictures once I have them developed. Maybe if the weather gets nice, a BBQ.

Ok, Gotta run. Love you all :)

Tommy

So I guess I have alot to update. Considering I'm now sitting in an Internet Cafe in New Dehli, and 24 hours ago I was near the southern tip of India in a Yoga Ashram.. 2814 kms later and here I am.

So where should I start. I was not really enjoying the Ashram, between the strict rules, the early mornings, bland food and lack lustre yoga, I was quickly growing tired of the place. On top of all those reasons, I had continued to feel worse in the Dehli Belly department. My sore stomach, unsettled bowels if you will, and just generally feeling weak made doing yoga or any activity for that matter not much fun. I struggled though a few days, and gradually did feel better, not 100 percent but able to do the classes and follow the program.

Let me tell you about the typical day in the Ashram life before I get into my insane day of travel to Dehli.. The morning bells ring at a sobering 5 am, a second "snooze" alarm sounds at 5:20 and we are expected to meet in the main hall by 6am. The morning program begins with a group meditation. Satsang they call it. 30 minutes of silent thought, or should I say lack of thought. The idea is to close your eyes and focus on the breath, clear the mind, and calm the thoughts. A silent mantra, holy or sacred words can be repeated to help focus thoughts in one place. By calming he mind, and using this disipline, one can ultimately have greater control of the mind, and some believe you open your soul to the higher powers, the brahmin, the ultimate, God. This is the path to immortality, to bliss, to blah blah blah. Sorry I wasn't really into all that. I like the idea of disipline, the idea of calming the mind to be able to think clearer and focus better. But when you start talking about god and spirits entering my body when I meditate, I start to clam up a bit. I dunno. Maybe one day I'll have more patience for the spiritual world, but for now, I think its more about personal gain, and the pursuit of happiness. And God, in my opinion, has nothing to do with it.

Anyway, back to the shedule. After we meditate for some time, the chants begin. Ancient sanskrit chants are sang as a group. They have a nice musical quality, drums and symbols, even though I have no idea what i'm saying I sing along or bang a drum. This process is thought to tune each person to the same vibration wave lengths. Once we are all in tune, the leader makes some announcements and reads a section from our founders vast collection of literature.

I'm happy that the leader, priest, or guru, whatever he was called I don't remember, he mentioned that it doesn't matter what faith you believe, that these practices are the same. He wasn't trying to convert anyone to the hindu belief system in which the ashram was founded. Thankfully, because I might not have stayed past the first day otherwise. It was very inclusive and open to many ideas.

Following Satsang, we have tea. I found the name satsang funny, because litterally we sat, and we sang. Annnyway, tea takes us to first yoga. At 8am. By now i've been awake 3 hours and with only tea in me i'm starving, I do the yoga thinking of breakfast when i'm supposed to be clearing my mind.

The Sivananda style of yoga is not my favorite. Its only 12 poses. A great series of breathing exercises starts, but the same poses are repeated with gradually buliding variations. I was bored of the yoga after the 2nd day. I think I've come to be a yoga snob and only like my fast paced, very physical, hot yoga that I do at home. I do this yoga more for exercise purposes than for the true yogic benefits of ancient times. But I don't care, I like it. Its a great workout and I feel good doing it.

So breakfast is served at 10am and by now I'm ready to eat my arm. When its served, I might rather eat my arm. This food is Satvic. No Spices. Its philosophy lies in the idea that spices increase the heat of the body, and so does yoga, so the avoid over heating, spices are banned. Geeze. The food wasn't actually bad, just not good. Basic vegetarian meals, with weak sauces and plain rice. Clear tea. We all sit along the floor in rows. Long rows of 60 or 70 in each, a total of nearly 250 people in one huge dining hall, eating from large metal platers with sections pressed into them for each different sauce. We eat indian style, with our hands, cross legged and in silence, shoveling the food as best we can. We wash our own plates and cups, some volunteer to help clean, and then are left for the afternoon for free time. People often go into the small town near by to use cheaper internet or the phones, a nearby lake is nice to swim, despite the warning of crocodiles. I chose to just rest and read most days, really not feeling well.

Another tea and small fruit snack is served at 1:30pm and then a lecture about yoga or the history of the ashram is given. I missed most of the lectures, one day I was sick, so I just slept the whole day, another the lecture was cancelled, and the one lecture I did attend just spoke about what the chants are supposed to mean.

So another yoga session begins at 3:30. The same boring 12 poses are done again, with little variation. I did have the opportunity to work on my hamstrings and they do lots of abdominal work, so I got some benefit. Just got bored fast.

Yoga ends and dinner or lunch? Anyway, the second of the two meals for the day is served. Same deal, same food.

Wow I sound pretty bitter here. But it wasn't all bad. I liked the disipline of getting up early. I challenged myself to sit through the meditation and found I was gradually able to make longer attempts at clearing my mind. I didn't like the food, but i'm sure that the simple diet was the best thing I could have done for my poor belly at the time.

But after gradually feeling better, I woke up at 6:15 yesterday, I slept right through the morning bells, I was stiff and sore, feeling weak again and generally crappy. So I said screw it I want to go home. And thats it. I changed my flight and flew to Dehli.

Namaste

I have reached my Yoga retreat! Its pretty strict around here. 15 minute internet max. So expect a post to let you know how it went when I leave. Until then, keep well. I'll be learning to levitate and stand on my head. Talk soon.

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 :)

These are the people of Hampi. I spent the day wandering around the town, taking my time to sit and watch the world pass by.

The people love to be photographed. This experience of capturing these faces was one of the most amazing things i have ever done. I was so happy to enter into the lives of these people for the short time.

This young girl and her sister at the bottom came to greet me as I took a picture of the colourful house next door. As I sat and chatted the entire family came out of the house to laugh and play, take pictures and chat. They were so kind and warm, bowing in prayer hands, and posing for pictures effortlessly.

The Bannana plantation owner. Eager to explain th entire process of bannana farming. He was happy to pose patiently for this portrait. The years of field work can be seen in his eyes.

This beggar woman and son approached me, and I hesitated asking for a photo. But I gave some rupees and decided that this is part of the city. A reality of this life. So by not capturing this side of India, I am essentially censoring the world.

Just perfect light, and such calm expression. This could never be set up or posed, just the result of sitting and talking for an hour in a temple. Getting to know one another mostly through sign language and hand gestures.

These eyes are like steel. I would not want this grandmother angry at me.

This is Raju. He is the Elephant handler. I woke up early this morning to watch Lakshmi the elephant be wached. I followed the animal back to the temple, and watched this man paint symbols and art on the thick skin. After asking, I took a portrait of his young daughter, and was invited into the home to sit and meet the rest of the clan. I was given some dosa, and urged to sit and chat. The painter came into the house and i captured this interaction with his little girl. A magical place, just amazing.

These Saddu's are travelling holy men. Devoted to a simple life of meditation, thought and prayer. A few rupees are required for this photo and it kind of ruins the mystique. Just another example of organized profit of religion. :S but a very cool picture for 20 cents.

This is the elephant washer. He guided Lakshmi to the river for her wash. An amazing feat, walking a huge animal down the steep steps.

I really just like this guys mustache.

This was a really great day for me. I broke away from the group and explored the city slowly, taking the time to chat with anyone who approached me. This slow method of interaction separated me a little from the other tourists, all eager to get to each temple on the list. I was happy just seeing the few I did, and for the people I met along the way. I love Hampi. A gem of India. I hope you like these pictures. I was experimenting with portraits, and playing with the lens Jessica gave me.

Miss you all. Thanks for the support. Love.

I wish I could turn this picture sideways for you. But maybe download it. I love this landscape. Its like from another world. A true loonar landscape. These boulders are piled impossibly on top of each other more miles in every direction. This is the view from a temple named after the monkeys. Spirtual, religious men live in the temple for months at a time, some for a life time. We sat for an hour or more talking, being hosted for a simple lunch and tea, just because we decided to hang around for a bit. A great time.

Creepy monkey. Giving me the cut eye. These little buggers were prowling the stairs up to the temple. Very calm with humans, especially tourists who often feed them banannas.

This was one of the coolest spots ever. A super deep resevoire filled with clean, cold water. Perfect for a dip after biking around town looking at temples and monkeys. A rotating crowd of people come and go for an afternoon swim. Just a great place to go cool down.

Yes thats me. Sorry Mom. I know. But I had to give that a try. Its very deep and safe, and just so awesome to fly off the edge and dive in. Such a rush.

Cute little bugger. not as Scary as his older uncle.

These were taken today. A really great day filled with exploration. Another planned tomorrow.

I wish I could write more, and put up so many more pictures. I will add more when i'm home. Its tough to find time to get at a computer.

Hope the weather at home isn't too bad :S

So its been a few days since my last update and I have lots to say. First I should re cap the last few days in Arambol. John and I have met up with some of the people we met in Mumbai, a chance meeting in the small town. So our wolfpack has grown to 6. Lol Tamara (germany), Lola (Quebec), Kat (England), and Paula (Italy). One of my favorite times spent there was the sunset festival. A daily event taking place down the beach from the resorts. Nearly 70 or 80 people meet in this location each evening to watch the set and play music. Some practive their juggling, or hulla hoop, others dance and sing. This meeting in unorganized and unstructured. I joined in the fun by singing along. I donated my guitar to be used by Tamara, a friend that actually knows how to play. The songs just flow and evolve as people add a new sound as the jam session emerges. It was really a magical, once in a life time experience, so much so, that I went for a second night the next day. So twice in a life time I suppose.

The rest of the days in beach paradise were very much the same as those described in my last post. I gave myself near sun stroke one day and spent our last day in the shade, avoiding the sun and drinking lots of water. I attended another yoga session in the morning on the day we planned to travel. Then we hit the rails once again.

A short train ride for 20 rupees took us into Old Goa to see a church. Quite a grand church, but not much of an excitment for me. Its hard to see the granduer of a hundred year old building after seeing 2500 year old cave temples carved entirely by hand over 700 hundred years. But still we spent some time and I lit some candles for a few people who I think need it. Even if I don’t really believe in the candle lighting myself, those who do may feel that energy? Maybe it helps? Who knows..

The day went on in the blistering heat, all the more intense without the relief of the beach. We made it through town, and took a taxi onwards to Panjim, where we planned to find a train to Hampi. This nice plan was blow out of the water when we learned no trains were headed there until morning. So our alternative is the bus. We made it into town, found the bus and were lucky to book the last four tickets out of town. Tamara and Kat didn’t join us at this point of the trip, as Tamara was having a stomach issue and decided to ride it out back in Arambol, Kat stayed for support. So the remaining four of us ventured on. The last four seats on this private overnight bus were only seats. No sleeper cabins available for us. I would have to say that night was one of the worst rides of my life.

Hot, sticky, shaking and very uncomfortable. My leg room infront of me was zero, I had to kick them off to the side in the aisle, and lay sideways to attempt any sleep. The roads are fairly bumpy and the curves cause you the shift in the seat. I slept in 20 minute fits, on and off throughout the long long night. The sceduled 9 hours turned into more than 14, and by the time we arrived to town I was so exhausted and cranky. The poor rickshaw drivers trying to haggle for a good price met the worst side of Tommy. Unable to deal with the hoard of taxi drivers trying to rip me off, I just said no, go away, not now, leave me alone. Not in the nicest of tones. We found a decent price as ther crowd of other travellers thinned out. I was particularly rude to one guy, who quoted us 150, then as the crowds came and went, he finally reduced to the normal 35. I told him that he could take us for half price and I wouldn’t give him the business cause he’s a cheater. He kept trying, I said no, not with you. We went with his competition. I’m very frustrated with the scams and rip offs.

But by the time we got to town and found the hotel we were recommended, the grief wore away instantly, and I felt bad for being so mean to that driver. I suppose it his only chance to make as much money as he can for the day. His need to a few extra rupees, is much greater than my need to save a buck. But still, if he had said 50 from the start, maybe he would have gotten the fare, instead he sat in his empty taxi cause he was greedy. Tough balance I suppose.
So we were recommended this hotel from Mike, the Scottish guy who gave me the guitar, and I’ve thanked him already for the advice. The place is just beautiful. The staff are very friendly and kind, great food and a comfortable area to hang out.

Last night after we settled in, we ventured out into the boulder strewn landscape to watch the sunset from a nice perch in the hills. It was one of the best sunsets i’ve seen. The moon is rising later in the night these days so the stars are bright and the sky is clear. I have some amazing pictures to post but the connection here is dead slow, and I can’t take the time right now. So I will have to wait to show you all.

I slept in today, and did not morning exercise. I was dead to the world after the terrible bus trip, but I have been staying strong with no booze, and no smokes. I did alot of working out and yoga last week. Feeling great and staying healthy. A Hike later today, and I might lead the group through some yoga :)

Hanging around seems to be the thing to do here. Later, as the heat dies down, I think I’ll go climb some rocks, or see the monkey temple. Tough choice, tough life. A week here, and a week to get to my yoga retreat. Thats the plan for now, I’ll keep you posted.

January 28th - 2010 Aronbul, Goa
We arrived late in the afternoon on the 28th, from a long 12 hours overnight train. The public bus from the station was jammed to capacity as usual, making the 1 hour trip feel like 3. Hot and Hungry we stop into the first local restaurant we find.

We begin to observe this lost hippy haven. Shirtless travellers with leathered skin cruising up and down on motorbikes and scooters. Shops line the road selling items from a long ago generation. Tye-dye t-shirts and jewelry.

A long walk through the town makes me grateful for packing so light, even if I'm out of clean clothes as I write. The sweat is pouring in the southern heat, making Mumbai seem comfortable. We reach the strip to ask and haggle for accommodations. A great deal is found and I'm set up in a private bamboo hut with an attached bathroom and shower. A bug net hangs over the bed, and a ceiling fan completes the package. I have learned that one very nice thing in life, is being able to pee at the same time as having a shower, no, not peeing in the shower. But being close enough to the toilet to pee while being under the water. The close quarters of these accommodations make this dream a reality gentlemen.

This simple place will be my home for the next few days, already I feel that I could spend some time in this place. I start my birthday celebrations early, treating myself to a massive grilled fish dinner. The fresh catch of the day chosen by me from the ice tray display, and enjoyed with a large cold kingfisher beer. I sleep like a baby, lost in the haze of good food and beer.

January 29th - 2010
A yoga session starts this day. A 2 two hour birthday gift to myself. This teacher is fairly slow at this time, so the class turns into a private lesson and lots of guidance. This morning meditation sets the mood for the day, a day to remember. my 25th. The day continued with a slow breakfast and a large chai tea. The hot, sweet and rich drink is wonderful.

Further observation reveals a place very different from the India I have grown accustomed to over the last two weeks. The Indian people have a certain Hawaiian flare, a southern California vibe, a certain sense of an island life. A slower, calmer tone.

The sales people of the markets are languid and slow. Quietly and only once asking you to have a look at their wares. Gone is the aggressive, pressured sales of the bustling Mumbai markets. The largely Russian clientele are a mix of ex-patriated hippies from another era and sun worshiping travellers, looking for a break from the road. Signs flood the walls of the cafes, announcing services and selling skills of massage, yoga and every alternative therapy you can think of. Its a place of rest, a place of healing for some, and a place to regain something lost, or simply recharge.

With a great morning setting up a great day, we head for the beach. Beach shacks line the white sand beaches and clear blue waters. The heat is fierce, saved only by the constant sea breeze. The searing sun is best avoided in the noonday heat, so refuge is sought under a beach umbrella.

As I observe my surroundings and think how different this place is, I am reminded that yes, I am still in India. Stray cows wander the beach, 5 to six at a time. These wild sacred bulls plod the beach seeking scraps and chasing dogs. The packs of stray dogs will nip and tease the lumbering animals until a stampede erupts. Cows trample down the beach at top speed escaping the threat of the dogs. But as the pack thins out, the cows suddenly realize the size advantage they have, and a whole new chase begins.

I sit back in my shaddy seat and watch the water gently roll up the beach. I watch my kingfisher sweat on the table. I see the people frolic and play. Amid this paradise I am found thinking of home. I think of birthdays past and wonder what I would be doing . It makes me miss my girl, my family and my friends. No cake this year. No family dinners, no special dates. These are the things that make a birthday special, not getting older, or the day of the year, but the people you have with you on that day. Home sickness comes in waves, and phone calls have a way of grounding you. The realization that life is going on back home, flying by without you.

But this feeling is fleeting. I reframe my thinking and reflect on how truly lucky I am. I am watching cows chase dogs on and Indian beach paradise, sipping cold beer and floating through a perfect day with no worries or care. This day is about me this year. I eat when i'm hungry, sleep when i'm tired. I read, I write and practice guitar. When its hot I dip in the ocean, and dry in the sun.

This perfect day is made better in knowing tht I do have the loved ones at home, thinking of me, reading my blog, sending me birthday wishes. I am fortunate for this. I think about the lost bohemian travellers, dredlocked and lost. Lost in the moment, caught up in this world. A place where no roots must be laid. Temporary friendships and made, and relationships come and go. I think about this quest for the ultimate freedom, this Neverland, where you never grow up. This seems to me a falacy, an escape from a lost and lonely world. Escape, from something.

I realize on the beach this day that my roots, my life, these so called burdens; these are what I vlaue most in my life. The relationships that I have built and maintain, the love of my life, my family, even my job, my career, my future, this is my substance. Being away from these elements of life that we often take for granted, provides a great perspective of what is truly important in life.

The day drains away and the sun bleeds into the ocean. The full moon peeks out from behind tree tops and replaces our shaddows with the familiar tin light. The slow pace of the day continues as we wander slowly back to wash away the salt and sand. I change into my cleanest dirty shirt, blending in perfectly with the crowd. Its back to the beach where the scene has transformed. Morphing from a sun soaked play ground into a serene candle lit patio. Hundreds of candle lit lanterns sit atop the rows of dinner tables, facing the sea, the breeze. Another of the days catch is chosen and cooked while I wait with a beer. The greatest fish dinner i've had, for less than 4 dollars.

Chanti, chanti : Slowly, slowly. This is the way here, and a second large beer drags out another hour. This day is strange and I drift again back to home. This place, the candle light lanterns and great food, I want so badly to be sharing this with my girl. I become quiet and lost in my thoughts. I grow envious of the couple ahead of me while I dream of the future when I can share nights like these with my beautiful girl. I picture the soft light play off her eyes, an see how her skin glows in the bright, soft moon light. I envision long walks, and late nights out on the beach. I really miss Jessica today.

But this strange and different birthday is marked with stark highs and slows. The day continues well into the night. When in spain you see the bulls run, in france you drink wine and eat cheeze. When you are in Goa, you go to the all night fullmoon beach rave. Its tough to describe a rave party if you have never been to one, but the dark images of strung out dancers is not far from the reality. A welcoming and happy environment where anything goes. At first I felt like a tourist at this party, an observer of this spectacle. Revellers are all around me, lost in the music, dancing in a trance. The multitudes of dreadlocks and tattoed locals have congregated at this high powered beach venue for a 30 hour party. The music pumps loud and vibrates through your chest. Many of the party goers seek chemical assistance to become lost in the music, but this trend is far from a must. With only a few beers in my system, and the confidence that I am alone on this side of the world, I soon loose my sense of being a visitor and loose myself. The constant rhythm pulls you along and soon your arms, legs and hips are moving independent of another, each concentrating on a separate layer of this complex sound.

Without the assistance of the chemical aids, we grow tired and lazy. We head out of this all night party well before sun rise and make the long beach walk home in the bright moon light. The hour walk was quickened by intervals of running along the sand, trying to make the long walk faster. We arrive to the huts just after 4am and sleep comes easy, dreaming of another day of beach paradise. Not sure how many more, chanti chanti.