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.

This Town. This place. A Bohemian hippy paradise.

Ex-pat yoga teachers and struggling bands. John Lennon wannabies. Soul searching, party hopping travellers soaking up the fine life. Feeling good. Tye dye T-shirts and dreadlocks, tattoos. Bamboo huts and hammocks. White sand beaches with clear blue waters, against clear blue skies.

Arrived late afternoon, a good sleep overnight. Long over night sleeper. Constant grumble, soothing shake and hum. Tossing and jumping at the blare of a midnight passing train. . A cold shower is welcomed, no need for the heat. New place, full moon, a room to myself. The best sleep of the trip.

A yoga session starts this day, Centered, Calm, Clear. A slow breakfast, large Chai. A day at the beach. A book, a pen and guitar. Reminders of India, so far from home. Stray dogs outnumber stay cows, 10 to 1.

No haggles, no stress, no worries. Chanti, Chanti. Slowly, Slowly.

A great day at the beach. Seeking relief from the heat with the breeze from the sea. Taking refuge from the sun under umbrella shade. Red sun bleeds into nothing, replacing shadows with the light of the moon. The day I will always remember.

My 25th.

I was in Arungabad at the hostel and was lucky enough to be there when a local Karate group was doing a presentation for their parents and families. As usual as soon as a camera is out, the kids crowd around for a chance to have a picture taken. These portraits turned out really well.

I was able to snap this picture quickly at the Ajanta caves. I was trying to get jus the tree, and was waiting while people walked past, but then this monk came and positioned himself perfectly in the frame for a great photo.

Who doesn't love a monkey? However, these little buggers were pretty freaky looking, kinda scary really. But I like the curious look about this little guy.

This class of students were taking a field trip to the Elora Caves. The kids were more interested in John and I. They lost interest in the caves and concentrated on practicing english and shaking hands with the exotic, bearded white guys.

I was able to get this quick portrait away from the hoards of children. I really like this one. Shows the friendship and closeness of the Indian people. You often see men walking down the street with pinky fingers linked or an arm around the shoulder. Its different from western society, but I think its kinda nice.

I don't know what they were doing inside the home across the street, but white smoke was pumping out of the window, filling the streets of this poorer residential area. I was trying to frame a shot of a few people walking into the alley when this guy walked into the frame. Another chance picture that turned out great.

Just having some fun with the open shutter. This is along the promanade near the gateway to India.

This man has devoted his life to feeding the pigeons outside the gateway to India. He was very nice, and agreed to the portrait. I am happy with the way it turned out. He's not as unhappy as he looks though.

This is Indian Maddox. Jessica's brother has the same type of dog at home. This guy is about 40 lbs lighter than Canadian Maddox, but both dogs have the same sad looking face.

This Is John. I have been travelling with him since we met early morning on my first day in Mumbai. Great travel partner and super nice guy. I like the friendly interaction in this shot, even if it is was over exposed.

I found internet access that wasn't slow as dirt and decided to upload a few shots to share with you all. Its been a slow day here in Mumbai, still just killin time waiting for the train. Going for lunch soon :)

I want to thank everyone who has been reading this blog, and to all of you who have let me know your following. It nice to know so many people are reading, and that I have a port of connection with the people I care about at home. Its very hard at times to be away from those we love, and especially in such a strange, and different place. I have waves of home sickness, but when I come and read comments, and e-mails, I feel the connection and I am rejuvinated for the next leg of my journey.
I am back in Mumbai, The big city. I had a mix of good and bad yesterday. I spent the entire day sitting around the public garden with 5 others from the hostel. A collection of international travellers from all over the world. I brought out my new guitar which I am very slowly learning, and practiced my few chords. Two of our group members were quite tallented, so I watched and learned and enjoyed the nice music. We had a drum as well, and sang along to a few familiar songs. The locals in the park seemed to enjoy the show, and gathered around in packs of 20. Mostly middle aged men enjoying the cool shade, and the day off from work on Republic day, a national holiday here in India. This was a welcome retreat from the traffic and heat of this congested city. The pace was slow and the company was nice. This was the good part of my day. The Bad was sprinkled in throughout. The combinations of annoyances that have grown to become rather overwhelming at times. Walking anywhere in the streets is a frustration while sales people pressure you into buying everything you can think of. One man hawks huge plastic ballons, coming into your path while you navigate the busy street. "You want Big Balloon?" I feel like screaming "Why the fuck do I want a Big Balloon?? No! Get out of my way". But I just ignore the tout and walk past. I hate the barter with every sale, the impossibility of attaining an honest price from the start. Our first try at getting a cab from the train station quoted us 150 rp, We found a metered taxi which ended up a total of 19 rp. This insane mark-up of prices, the hustle on unsuspecting tourists is becoming very frustrating. I shared this same sentiment with the group when we walked to Chowpatty beach later that night. This local promanade was set up for the holiday, where ice cream and more useless crap was being sold. While we again sat and relaxed, enjoying the cool evening air, the hustle of chai became unbearable. Conversations were interupted while some guy screams "Chai Chai!" right next to you. I got some feedback from a few who had been in the country longer, and am a little worried to hear that Mumbai isn't the worst of this. But I rest assured knowing that I will find time to relax on the beach, and my travel mate shares the desire to escape the touts and find the quiet side of Goa. I am also looking very forward to a Yoga retreat I have planned for the 16th of february. This two week Ashram lifestyle will be a welcome relief from the streets of india, and a chance to recollect my sanity. I crave Yoga, as I havn't had the chance to get a proper class in. I have also made some mental plans to escape India all together, and move into the more tranquil, less travelled country of Nepal. Following my Yoga treat I plan to do the Golden Triangle of Dehli, then escape the tourist trail and head for Kathmandu, and find a nice long mountain trek. I'm sure my plans may change, but I'm quite certain I will spend at least my last month of travel in the buddhist tranquility of the Nepali mountains. These peaks have been calling my name well before even arriving in India. It is simply the weather, and season that prevent me from going immediately. I hope by March the weather should be more tollerable. I don't have much else to update. I have my train ticket for Goa booked for tonight. An over night trip south. Maybe I can describe the night trains in more detail. This is an optimal way to travel, though little can be seen of the country side. Your accomodation for the night is included in your trip, as you sleep in a fold down bunk. Three layers of bunks face each other in cubical sized spaces. The platform is long enough even for myself to stretch out flat, and the rumble and hum of the train is soothing enough to get to sleep. Although a gravol doesn't hurt to help you along the way. A little reading my flashlight, and its off to dream land, hours later, and kilometers past, you wake up in your new destination, rested and ready to start your day. No time is wasted travelling, and no accomodations are spent. Some trains have people selling treats and water, others late at night are peaceful and quiet. I really enjoy train travel and I am looking forward to my moving bed tonight.
Thanks agian to all who have been reading, its really great to know I can share this with someone. I hope everyone is doing well, and I am also thinking about Haiti. Altough no word is said of it here. I guess they have thier own problems. I'll update after my beach vacation and let you know how it goes. Talk soon.

My Indian Cow Friend. Very Friendly. This Cow was just hanging out by the train station when I got off the wander during a break. I got down and took the self portrait while he nuzzled up against my face just in time to snap this pic. The guy watching me asked whats so special about this cow? I don't think he will ever understand what is so special about cows just wandering the streets. Just different I guess...

This beautiful picture showing the sun rays way only possible due to the heavy pollution in Mumbai. This picture took more than 10 minutes to upload. Might have to wait till I get home to put many more on. God this Net is slow.

So I have left the big smog laden city and have travelled by train to Aurungabad, a small transit city which give access to the caves of elora and Ajanta. I have lots to update but want to share something important to me first. I have come to India not just to see the sights and absorb to culture, I have come to attain personal growth and make changes to my world. I unfortunately smoke. I Drink like many others my age, weekends, a few at wings, I smoke a bit of pot aswell, I eat meat too often and exercise infrequently. This is not far off from my of my friends, and most of the western world. We have So much and do so little good for ourselves. This trip is about change.. Today is day 5 of no cigarettes. The hardest thing in my life so far, the biggest on going struggle is smoking. But here is was easy. I just stopped. I also have not drank in those five days. smoking pot is easy, cause its not available and would rather not risk indian Jail. I havn't eaten meat in this country. An easy task in india, but a challenge all the same for a carnivore such as myself. This Detox will continue for the remaining 2 and 3/4 months. I want to challenge myself and want to feel the effects of clean living. I Will implement these positive changes in my home life, but will not deprive myself of the things I enjoy. A hamburger and beer is one of lives greatest gifts, and one that I will surely endulge upon my return. I will however remember the energy and strength I feel now, and make adjustments accordingly. I am Happy. I have also made an effort to rise one hour before my travel partner, I run for 30 minutes each day, and take time to exercise and stretch each morning. Ok, Enough about that.

Let me tell you about what has happened since the 21st..
I should back peddle a little and say that I bought 2 full suits. Jacket, pants, and shirt, two different styles, each tailored to my liking for 240 dollars Canadian. Ha. I love this place.
So the last few days.. Oh man where to start. How about Indian Trains. What a gong show. A complete and utter nut house. People sit in open door ways, and stand throughout the aisle. There are twice as many tickets sold than there are seats, so the lanes are packed. It was so nice to be away from the street people, to hustle, the sales, and the beggars. These were the working class people of the country. No one was interested in making money off of me, but all were curious and interested in my name, my country, my job, my girlfriend. I spend 6 hours talking with different people as seats were shifted, and places swapped. I spoke about Buddhism with one man for over an hour, so amazing to engage in conversations with true followers and devoties. This is where you really meet the people of india, and this is where you get a sense of the hospitality of this nation. A man who makes less a day than I do in an hour handed me a handmade sweet th size of a hockey puck. He spoke nearly no english, but was listening to a conversation I was having on the brief train stop. He was so happy to give me this candy, anything small he could give to say he welcomes me to his home. I didn't really want it :S so at the final destination the first two young beggar boys got a special treat instead of rupees.

I called Jessica Today. That was tough. I feel the full effect of being away from her when I hear her voice. When I read e-mails its tough. I think when I'm moving around and seeing sights, talking to new people I'm distracted. When I am alone just, me and the computer, or her voice on the phone, My heart hurts. But as they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder. And as Jessica's blog quote says so well, a Love that has been tested by distance and struggle, and passed, is true love. Or something like that :) Ok, back to travels.

Umm, Elora caves.. What can I say? 2500 year old caves carved out of solid, volcanic rock, bigger than my house, 40 feet straight into the ground, carved over a period of 700 years, all for the devotion of God. Or in the Hindu sense, Gods. The pictures I took would do not justice, and would not give a perspective of the magnitude of these structures, but you may notice to detail and intricacy of the carving, done entirly with hand tools. I really have no words to describe this place, you will have to see it for yourself :)

I want to just write a little about India life. I wrote in my journal the other day while sitting at a restaurant alone, I relfected on the history of each building. Everywhere you look seems to be 50 years old with no renovations since. The paint is peeling on every wall, the tables are worn down to the bare undersurface, the table legs are rusted. This is the case with almost every place you enter. I wonder what these places were like many years ago, when they were new. Its like time forgot this place. In many ways, it seems like going back in time 40 years. For lunch a typical dish is nann bread and some kind of sauce, or rice. Chai tea is more like coffee with lots of milk, and very sweet. Channa Masalla is chick peas in sauce, served with roti. This meal with tea costs me less than 1 dollar. 43 rupees make one Canadian dollar. However, despite my ability to buy my way through a country, as I could easily afford a personal driver to take me to the caves, for just 700 rupees, he would wait all day, take me door to door. This inexpensive service would take me away from the people. The real india. So instead, John and I take the public bus for 20 rupees. 50 cents takes us the same place, but we are surrounded by the same curious, honest people found on the trains.

I met a scottish mate named Mike. A musician travelling alone for his school holiday for 3 weeks. He and two English girls joined John and I the next day to see Ajanta Caves. So the same thing, this time 70 rupess to travel 3 hours, 133 kms, for under 2 dollars. Less than bus fair to go further than hamilton. Well, this bus is jsut as packed, maybe more, bumping along the dusty roads. The highways are nuts. Two lanes are four, bikes, and busses, cars and cows, all share the same space. Horn blare as people pass, tucking back into traffic at the last impossible second. The street traffic is even tighter. At any given time you could reach out and touch the car next to you while keeping you elbow inside. Anyway, Mike is leaving tomorrow, to go back home. He was playing his guitar when I mention that I was interested in maybe finding one, and learning a few chords. This guy, who I knew for 2 hours at the time said since he was leaving, he was planning to leave the second hand cheap guitar at the air port. He gave it to me. He also spent an hour teaching me some chords. So No I have a guitar. I'm gonna try to learn a song before I come home. My fingers already hurt.

This is already a huge entry for the last few days, I hope its not too long, thanks for reading. Keep sending e-mail, I love to hear about the country I call home, what are you doing with your life? Whats the weather like?
buddyjoe16@hotmail.com

I'm off tonight to head back to Mumbai.. Grr. But its only one night of smog and dirt before we arrive in the paradise beaches of Goa. I'll let you know how the beaches go :)

January 21st - Mumbai So.. Where to begin. First I have a few pictures to share with you. These are all unedited images, and they are just a tiny fraction of what I would like to share, but these things take time. Hope you like these..
This was a section of the city less travelled, north of the markets, away from the tourist sections. I wanted to capture the intensity of the streets, the hustle. I wish I could record sounds and smells, to give a better perspective. The horns blare non stop, smoke from vendor stalls chokes the air. The smell of a farm works its way through the smell of desil fumes. So far from my world. I love it.

My Indian College friends from my first morning in Mumbai. I later ran into them dressed in uniform on the way to some presentation. I was walking down the street and I hear "Thomas, Thomas" I assumed that this could not possibly be my name being called, but sure enough I have more friends in Mumbai than I thought :)

This was the early morning when I had arrived to the hostel. To tired to read, too excited to sleep, I waited in the lobby for day break. This Cab driver likely works both the day and night shift. If you look closely you can see him sleeping. This guy scammed 150 rupees out of me to see his snake. A full days labour in the industrial slums of India will earn a worker 130 rupee. But of course I didn't learn that until the next day...

January 20th - Mumbai slums

Today was truly an eye opening experience. I was witness to a side of mumbai that few will have the opportunity to see. I joined a tour group that focusses on the largest slum of India, A location 1.74 square km packed with over 2.5 million people. This is the highest population density of anywhere else in the world. At first I had some moral objections to taking this tour of poverty. I was objected to paying 800 rupees, the average monthly salary of many, to gawk at poor people. I pictured in my mind a sad group of undernourished people, wasting away in squalor, while rish white westerners parade through dark alleys snapping pictures to take as souveniers. We may have been rich and white, but the people were far from sad. This particular slum area acts not only as a residential area for a large percentage of the population of mumbai, it opperates as a full scale recycling depot. Everything from plastic, aluminium and cardboard, to old paint cans are brought to the slum and made into something new. This bustling metropolis is a living, breathing factory. The people here have adapted to adversity in such amazing ways. The plastic as an example is collected from the streets, shipped from North America and china, and from within the slum itself. These items range from computer casings to pop bottles. The manufacture their own machinery to crush, cut and melt these products into new coloured pellets of plastic. This new product is then sold for a profit. This remarkable task takes place completely within the slum. I found it strangely ironic that our garbage, our over consumption of crap is being shipped around the world and used by the people of India for a profit. If the oil runs out, and we are cast back to the stone ages, these individuals would have little problem adjusting. It felt like being 1000 years in the past.. Kind of like the movie Alladin. Just like the open markets in that disney flick. While the work performed in this are is dangerous, toxic in some cases and extremly hard, the families in this region are not malnourished, they get by on what little they have. I was discussing this with a friend this morning about the concept of happiness. I would argue that often times these people's simple lives provides more satisfaction than in the west. Our stuff doesn't bring happiness.

What made me feel good about this trip, and which reduced my objections, was the fact that the tour company work closely with local charities within the slums. The funds generated from the ticket sales directly supports the educational endeavors implemented by the charity. This charity opperates two schools, providing up to 80% of the children with a quality education, in an attempt to break the cycle. I feel I have learned so much from the tour, it opened my eyes to a world I was largely oblivious of. I will continue to share this information with others. I feel that by bringing awareness to the issues, more people will benefit from the efforts of this charity, in however small ways.

Ok, I'm exhausted from writing. I have come down with a little bit of a cold, likely from the shitty air quality and from the tour. I'm hoping to get out of the city Saturday morning, off to the Ajanta caves (http://ajantacaves.com/) about six hours away. After a few days there, we will be back to mumbai for the 26th for a National Holiday. From there I head south for a few days of relaxation on the beach. I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading. And thank you for the comments :)