Hay Hay

HOLY shitballs I äm in Sweden! I have been walking around just smiling at the most INSANE things Ive seen in the last five months. Streets so clean that cigarette butts stand out every other block. Gorgeous hipsters that must have come out of the woom in bomber jackets and skinny jeans. Clear cool blue water with no garbage (or bodies) in it. Everything runs so freaking smoothly here. I got off the plane, walked outside, hopped on an express bus to downtown Stockholm, where I got the metro a few blocks from my hostel. Which is in the middle of a freaking gorgeous Sound of Music looking park where men (MEN!) push trolleys filled with babies, and gorgeous women in flowing dresses ride bicycles past. The first day I was here I went to the grocery store and bought strawberries, a loaf of bread, museli, soy milk, vegan cheese!, spinach and olive oil and have been making picnics and traipsing about leisurely. The bed I sleep in is so comfortable that I can sleep for ten hours every night. Although, midsummer is two days away and so the sun doesnt go down until like 1am and then only a little darker blue and then it starts getting light again. Its so surreal. The land of eternal sunshine these days. So when I arrived the plan was of course to stay awake until the sun went down, you know, to avoid jet lag and get assimilated? kinda tricky to do if the sun never goes down, and finally at like 10pm when outside it looked like eh, 3 in the afternoon I finally called it quits and crashed.
My hostel is like something out of Hansel and Gretel, white trimmed orange buildings and cute older European couples holding hands and walking around the beautiful gardens and having beers out front. Two lovely german girls share the room with me and Im meeting one tonight to go to Ice Bar. Which is exactly what it sounds like. A bar made of ice, and with the entrance fee you äre given a parka and one free beverage. And you better for like 20 bucks. Also, another thing- It is SHOCKING to see public displays of affection. After not even seeing members of the opposite sex holding hands, public make-outs at the metro tunnel suddenly seem so odd and scandalous. But I love it. I love all the pimped out rockstar babes walking around with bleach blonde hair and leather. I love all the tall business men in suits carrying laptops and chatting feverishly on their cell phones.
Yesterday I stopped for some Black Licorice Ice Cream. Which is totally delicious by the way. Yes Dad- be jealous. And sat down and watched this motley crew of dudes stand around and play chess on a massive scale- somewhere in between regular and harry potter style.
It is taking a little getting used to being- or rather looking so much like everyone here. I blend so well that everyone assumes I'm Swedish and I sheepishly have to say, uh, I don't speak Swedish when approached by pamphleters and when buying coffee, etc. And of course walking around yesterday a french couple asks me for directions. And the funny thing about this is, I was actually lost at the moment, looking for the thrift store, but eh, they didn't have to know that.
I went to H&M in the land where it was founded and bought a new complete line of underwear. It was luxury and decadence like I havent allowed myself in so long. And let me tell you, Sweden is proud of their H&M. In downtown Stockholm there must be like thirty stores. I had to use every bone in my body to not go balls out crazy with the shopping. And luckily I resisited cause later that day I was walking around Zinkensdaam, where my hostel is and stumbled upon a second hand shop. Um. Hello heaven. And it seems that another thing that the Swedes have in common with me, other than pasty skin, is short legs and a big ass. Because I tried on five pairs of jeans at this thrift store and every single pair fit like a glove. So I bought two pairs. And a hillarious shirt with an anchor on it. And a belt. All for half of what it would've cost for one pair of jeans at H&M. The ironic thing is that one of the pairs of jeans is originally from there. Oh how I love the thrift.
Stockholm is also an artist's wildest dream. Good design is everywhere and it is valued as an important part of life. Everything from the garbage cans to the metro station to the museums are beautiful, creative and well designed. In a nutshell everything is nice to look at here.
I also read in my lonely planet that Swedes drink more milk than any other country in the world! And more coffee than any other country with the exception of Finland. This makes sense as cute cafes are abundant and the coffee here is phenomenal I must say. As I walk around and stare in the shop windows the smells of Sweden surround me. This whole city smells like a delicious bakery. Sweet cinammon rolls and coffee and the occasional tinge of a cigarette whirl around in the air. And flowers and oh! was that a bird call? I swear this cannot be real.
One thing I miss about India is the fact that people talk to you. No one really talks to each other here unless you have to buy something or if you already know them. Which is fine. After all the madam! money change! its nice to be ignored. But I know that I can't do it forever. Luckily I'm heading down to Skäne to visit Freja and Louvisa tomorrow so I'll get some human contact. And then I'm wwoofing for a few weeks and they HAVE to talk to me there, so I'm good.
I was sitting in the train station today, waiting for my number to come up so I could buy my train ticket. Yeah thats how you buy train tickets here, you dont shove past ten seventies-style greasy-haired dirtbags to be given a slip of paper or a no madam- train not possible today. You sit and when your number is called you buy your very expensive ticket for the express train and you get your youth discount and everything. But while I was waiting I watched this little and I must say rather chubby, rosy-cheeked blonde girl throw a MASSIVE tantrum. She was like a female version of Agustus Gloop from Willy Wonka. She screamed and punched her dad in the thigh for like ten minutes. She was decked out head to toe in pink and carried a little pink tote with Princesses written on it and pictures of all the Disney princesses. Normally this would be annoying. But I just sat there amazed at the privileged life this girl has and will lead. Yeah she's a chubby little brat. But she's a girl and she can do this and when she grows up she can dress like a total slut and throw tantrums then too. If this girl was born in India... well for one she wouldn't be so fat, but her life would be a stuggle from start to finish and she would never know the pure joy of being able to choose your choices. Even if that choice is to lay on the ground screaming at the train station or eat twenty bars of Toblerone. This makes me a little sad. But I laugh anyways at fat ass actual over there (and her poor parents).
It's chilly outside and I am wearing jeans and a long sleeved shirt(because I WANT to) and a coat and a scarf. And this is the middle of summer? But its great and refreshing, I think I'll go roam and check out the palace where the royal family lives, and maybe get some more coffee and biscotti- who knows. I will just go where the (clean) road takes me.

<~I Love my India~>

I have a dysfunctional lesbian love affair with India. India is a woman. Of course she is. Hot and unpredictable and haunting and mysterious and colorful. She has a long black plait with vermilion in the part and jeweled toe rings and jingly gold bracelets. India has a nose ring that glitters like the gold that twists in swirls through the bright pink of her sari. She is such a beautiful woman in fact, that she can do horrible, disgusting, shocking things to you and all you can do is love her and ask to gimme more. She's never on time, her food gives you diarrhea (yet you eat it anyway cause it's worth it), she ruins your clothes in the laundry, she uses you for money, and she makes you know yourself. She always makes you feel like you're the only girl in the room. This is also known as staring; with unrelenting deep dark eyes. Sometimes my India is abusive. She poisons you and throws you off motorbikes and doesn't let you sleep when you're really tired. But then she redeems herself by letting you share a meal with someone beautiful and bathe in her holy river and meditate in her beautiful mountainous silence. She makes you realize why you love her- because she shows you beauty at the moment that she shows you sorrow. Like when you see skinny, hungry children begging for food. And then you see them smiling radiant, earth shattering smiles at you for no reason other than they feel like it. India is bright and loves to dress in colors that inspire all to emulate her beauty. Her favorite color is red. But sometimes she wears sunflower yellow, barbie pink, apple green or saffron. She always looks her best be that on the bus, or working on the side of the road, or going to the movies. Hair combed to the side or tightly braided, colored with henna and oiled. Crisp ironed shirts and luxurious draped shawls and saris. India's favorite food is mango. But she also likes rice pudding, butter naan, malai kofta, lemon soda, masala chai, veg samosa, palak paneer and anything really really sweet and bad for you. Its like she's pregnant all the time with the food cravings. And oh does this girl have a mean streak. India has mean hot(literally) flashes and when shes getting her period- beware for the war path. She'll yell and honk her horns and argue and no she doesn't care what the fuck time it is and don't you have any sweets? India is passionate and independent and kitchy and cute. I love my India because she makes the best chai I've had in my entire life. I love my India despite and because of her faults. I love my India for the people she creates and the people I've met while with her. I'll be sad to leave her, but like a good girlfriend she'll be waiting for me when I return.

Holy City to the Holey Shitty

Last bus ride in India. At least that's what I kept telling myself as we were stuck in traffic jams in sweltering heat with sticky clothes and no wind and desperate thirst for mango juice! Katarina and I left after one last masala chai at the office to embark on the ten hour bus ride to Delhi from Rishikesh. Walking through the streets filled with pilgrims and past the Ganges and corn being roasted and red and gold bracelets I felt excited and ready to move again. After two weeks of staying in one place the travel itch had begun. One last look at the Ganga river, an adios to all my ladies and we were off! I was a bit of a shit show though- let me just say. I was about to leave my little ashram apartment- I'm all packed up and ready to go, i lock my door but my keys drop to the floor. I bent over to pick them up RIIIIIIIIIIIPPPP. There busts a massive hole in the ass of my pants. Luckily I'm wearing a long dress like Indian top and so my lazy self doesn't have to unpack my entire bag looking for new unripped pants. This hole proceeds to get bigger and bigger throughout this day of travel- as I'm hopping onto moving buses RIPPP- to the point where I'm just hoping this flimsy fabric will stay on my body long enough to make it to Delhi. Then at a rest stop I was going to pay for using the bathroom and did a slide-trip-bif up to the table and came this close to bashing my forehead against it. WHEW. chill out Liz. And my crazy grown out buzz cut of hair is looking like I just got up from a nap.Eh. All the time.
But the bus ride was very nice all in all. One last day spent listening to music and musing about life and generally smiling at the things passing rapidly past the window.Rivers and swamps and rice fields. Desolate dusty paths and men sleeping on rocks. Forests littered with the bright confetti of strewn garbage and dotted with cows grazing. Saris draped over balconies like long KISS tongues after drinking pink or green or orange kool aid. Groups of men with tank tops pulled above their nipples exposing their proud bellies- which they scratch incessantly. Kids playing cricket in village squares. Groups of goats charging at the kids as they whack the ball around. A little boy in a puddle he created from a water pump who was laying on his back smiling with glee as he wriggled around shaking his butt back and forth cooling off. Men with their backs turned peeing towards towns or forests or walls. Fruit stand after fruit stand with ripe yellow and tiny green mangoes. Bundles of lychee akin to bouquets of bright red tea roses. Women. Children. Men. Staring.
Me staring back. And smiling, sometimes sadly, at what I'm seeing.
Men squatted with brushes painting ads on brick walls. Piles of rubber tires that stretch for miles and men in the heat breaking them down with hammers. Saris saris saris. Crazy chipmunks on billboards advertising theme parks. Bags of snacks and hair oil hanging in strips flapping in the wind at cigarette stands. Bollywood movie stars enjoying refreshing Pepsi or Coke. Riverbanks decorated with the whites of flying tank tops and bedsheets. Lazy, fat water buffaloes making the blubbery trek down to the river. Boyfriends on motorbikes with trim mustaches and plaid shirts like an Indian version of Brokeback Mountain. Boys splashing in rivers in their undies. I smiled and ate cool cucumber spiced with masala and salt and ice cream which melted in milliseconds. The wind blew and dirt and whatever else settles in a film all over my body. And finally Delhi.
When we arrived it looked like the apocalypse. 6pm but still like a 45c and the sun was beaming orange in the polluted sky over the slums of outer Delhi. It began to rain as we hopped in the rickshaw- not too much rain but enough to cool it down and then create more pish to walk through in Pajar Gang.

OM (my) God

Two weeks of ashram life. Not what I initally expected, but exactly what I needed and a great finale to India. The first week was a noisy, chaotic block party with pilgrims and flowers and singing and dancing and hooting and hollerin'. The second week has been like an Indian version of Sex and the City. I've tried to think of the equivalent phrase this is what I've got...Poop and the Delhi, Yoga and the Ganges, Chai and the Ashram, etc, to describe my ever expanding crew of ladies that meet up to discuss those things; poo, chai, and yoga. Fot the whole first week it was me and this british couple Laney and Steve and that was it for the westerners. But after the holy week and the birthday passed the ashram rooms opened up and the whiteys flowed into the Ganga Block. aka my hood.
So my girls...
We've got Sarah from Minnesota- a young, hilarious girl on a month long "holiday" I use the term loosely cause she hasn't had the easiest time in India. Sarah is doing her masters in holistic health and is staying at the ashram but taking private one on one yoga classes and lecture at the yoga and health center connected to the ashram. Katarina- who hails from Austria and is tall and bright and also takes pictures of her food- just like me. Helen from England who is like Lindsay Lohan's british twin in The Parent Trap- about twenty years old and about ten times cuter(if thats even possible)With red hair in pigtails and raidiant blue eyes. As you might guess this girl gets hassled like no other in India. Did I mention she's only TWENTY? yeah. Maureen- a lovely,insightful, enlightened(and she really is dude) woman from New Zealand on her second?(at least) trip to India. Maureen's friend Lynn-Marie who is a bundle of energy and reminds me of my crazy P.E. teacher in middle school who had braces and was really into working out. Liza and Sarah- a pair of twenty year old German girls who are doing the same trip as me practicaly except they went to Central America instead of Argentina. Liza speaks English with an American accent due to a year in North Carolina?(of all places- she said the agency just puts you somewhere in America. At least it wasn't Reno... haha) when she was sixteen. Both girls are insanely mature and I can't belive she just turned twenty like three days ago. When I was twenty I still got lost on the bus in Seattle. No freaking way would I be in India. Hmmm also two girls from Toronto who I haven't even asked their names yet but are totally awesome- we bonded over chai and banana chocolate samosas- also our shared love of mangoes. Unfortunately they got a whole kilo stolen by a pack of monkeys the day I met them. ooh the monkeys. Emma, from the UK who Sarah met in Delhi and who is doing this insane world trip- in the end it'll be 18 countries in one year. Kinda the same as mine but more south america, more southeast asia and after India she's going to Jordan and Egypt? We laughed about crazy Argentineans and trains in India and how much crap you accumulate while traveling. Whew. I think thats everyone. For now at least.
So almost every night we meet at our version of the coffee shop. The Green Hotel restaurant behind the ashram that is eh, okay food but theres a.c. and masala chai and a waiter that speaks spanish to me cause he thinks I'm from Mexico? I've officially become THAT fiesty. And we sit around not eating much to the chagrin of our waiter- mostly because our meals are included at the ashram. But occasionally we'll share a massive banana nutella pancake or rice pudding along with honey lemon mint tea and chai and lassis. All the horror stories come out, all the funny moments and the crazy shit that no one who hasn't been to India will ever understand. For instance- Helen was in yoga class- a one on one class taught by Sarah's teacher. And she was doing cobra pose. And the teacher gives you adjustments when needed. Here's the problem. So for a visual--- cobra pose is you laying on your stomach with your hands next to your shoulders and chest and head pulled up- and the yoga teacher (a male) is in front of Helen, bends over her body to adjust her legs. Meanwhile his penis keeps accidentaly slapping Helen in the face.
HAHAHAHA.
you just can't make stuff like this up.
Helen is this sweet British girl and what can you do in this situation? Excuse me- enough with the dick slaps? hmmm. So she just politely averts her head to avoid the swinging pendulum. hahaha i wept when i heard this.
So over the past week after a day of yoga and chanting I hang out with my girls and before you know it it's ten o'clock curfew to not get locked out of the ashram. It has been ridiculously fun.
Also. I got sick again.
It's totally my fault, I don't wash ALL the mangoes I eat, etc. And so two days ago I was woken up with insane- dysentery like craps and proceeded to vomit and diharrhea my guts out the entire night and all next day. But by the grace of something it only lasted 48 hours. I rested. I ate only curd and toast and the next day I was back to yoga and feeling great. I think it was just India's last hoorah with my digestive system. Well, intestinal parasites, you've had your fun now you can piss off.
One more class this afternoon and my two weeks of yoga and early mornings and vedic chanting will be at a close. I've enjoyed what it turned out to be. Not a serene ashram experiece, but a fun filled whirlwind adventure and a total gab sesh. Hey- some things just turn out this way- why fight it?

Happy birthday Swamiji

first off- this keyboard sucks and ever time i try to capitalize an i it turns into an ai. so there will be no capitalization in this entry. thats india for you.

my first week of the yoga course is finished. i celebrated the saturday-ness of today by getting a glorious ayurvedic massage and eating hello to the queen for lunch. hello to the queen is a glorious dessert found in travelers cafes around india. it consists of crushed up graham crackers or cookies, vanilla ice cream, banana, and chocolate sauce. sometimes there is coconut on top. today the bananas were deep fried and there was a sprinkling of pomegranate seeds just to add a little color.
deeply deeply un yoga.
sooo good though.
so back to the beginning. last sunday i arrived at the parmarth niketan ashram in rishikesh. it was crazy. nuts even. there were brightly dressed religious pilgrims flooding the place and the whole registration was a bit sketch and disorganized but i was okay with it. you have to become accustomed to things not going the way you think/hope they will go in india. in the end it all worked out- i paid my donation, checked into my room and bought my all white outfit required for the yoga course.
along with my accommodation i get three square meals a day and unlimited filtered water, and its on the banks of the ganges with aarti -sacred fire- ceremonies nearly every night.
it also happens to be some holy week related to the ganges so there are loads of indian tourists and rishikesh is just booming with spirituality, and pushing, and cow shit, and chanting and old lady posses in matching saris. parmarth is especially full because the guru is in residence and the holy week AND its his birthday.
it was a bit of a shock and not really what you think an ashram would be like. there are people everywhere all the time. theres not really anywhere to meditate other than in your room or by the ganges. and its not that quiet. but this doesn't bother me. i had quiet and places to meditate and a strict schedule at vipassana. this is just a different experience that's all. unfortunately only me and one other couple felt this way and loads of people left the yoga course during the week for this reason or that. another one bites the dust i say. but i really wanted to do yoga every day and this is the way i can- twice a day even and so i hung in there through the madness of celebration and business, and now that it has calmed down a bit i'm grateful that i stayed. so next week it'll pretty much be me and one indian guy and the yoga teacher. so it will turn into semi private yoga classes- pretty pretty good.
im getting tons of time to read- i'm currently reading 'the god of small things'- which is awesome- thank you jen, 'vipassana meditation', 'teach yourself eastern philosophy', and the guide book section on hindu gods - again- i'll never get them straight i dont think.

at first i thought the week would drag on because the schedule isn't quite as packed as i would have thought. but its flown by as i look back so whatevah. morning yoga class begins at six am and Indu the yoga teacher recommends a cold shower before so i wake at five thirty every morning, douse my self in cold ass water and traipse over to the massive yoga hall. morning classes we do prana yama breathing exercises, yoga asanas and some crazy warm-ups. traveling for nine months has done horrible things to my body. my intestines, my skin, my waistline- bIGTIME, my flexibility, sleep patterns, eating habits,etc. and all of this has become insanely apparent this last week. not only am i totally out of shape, inflexible and the like. but i am eating like a crazy person, i dont know if its the yoga- aka - actual physical exercise or the fact that i finally stopped taking antibiotics and dont have diharrhea anymore or what but my appetite is back baby- and i cant do exclamation points either on this keyboard.
then after breakfast we have vedic chanting which seems like it wouldn't be too hard. but i sweat and struggle to master the four notes and try to keep up with the oms and karavavahi y aaaaa yaaaaaAAs but its tough workout- sweat pours down my back every day.
then there is an hour and a half to kill before lunch which is torture sometimes- i usually nap because its so freaking hot out these days.
in the afternoon we have more yoga asanas and guided meditation and from monday to friday i have gotten my head on the floor, my shoulder stand semi mastered and my triangle eh, up to par.
also it happened to be the gurus birthday so on wednesday afternoon classes were canceled due to the crazy celebrations that occurred to honor swamiji. a sacred cow ceremony where we got to feed jaggery balls and greens to the fattest cows ive seen yet in india. a tree planting ceremony- decadent lunch with like three desserts, various epic plays depicted on a massive stage built out over the ganges. a huge statue of krishna- i think- in lotus position sits in the middle. and the guru and his crew - who followed him around all day- this posse of young students in yellow and orange robes tossing marigolds in his crazy hair and blowing conch shells and generally making quite the show of it. there was a krishna skit where a crazy decked out dancing cowherd incarnation of him played the flute and seduced young cowgirls or gupis. the dancing was straight out of bollywood with hip shimmying and wrist and neck flicking and coy glances. did i mention this was all done by the MALE dancer? at one point i was like eh, that's a guy right? kids painted blue and balancing on stilts, women glittering in gold studded saris from head to foot, old ladies pinching your arm fat to squeeze past in all the commotion, etc.
i looked around that night and thought- i cant believe this is happening. i'm sitting on the banks of the ganges river while the warm breeze blows and this unreal dancing is happening in front of me- there's a guru over there with a flowing mane and bright orange robes, there are beautiful saris pinks, blues, greens, oranges, purples, reds and yellows dotting the crowd. most of them draped over women's heads which is one of the most beautiful things you can imagine. there is chanting and fire and marigolds and crazy orange bugs. i cant believe im in freaking india right now.exclamation point.
i cant believe im watching this right now exclamation point.
such awesomeness, i'm so lucky.
some mornings after yoga i practice vipassana on the banks of the ganges. oh so peaceful. so saintly. yeah until the flies and mosqouitos and scorching sun come out. yesterday i could literally feel the legs of the fly step by step as it walked across my eyelid. my whole body was shaking with the urge to swipe it away. THIS is why Goenka tells us to meditate indoors i think.
one evening this week i went down to the banks to chill and immediately this auntie whisked me over and before you know it all her girls were sitting around me staring as she decked out my hand in some badass henna. she even invited me for tea the next morning at her ashram. which i gladly accepted. except when i went the next day and was totally lost and every sign there was in hindi and then i got kicked out by the security guard- i guess no westerners allowed? so thats a bummer. hopefully she isnt grudgin'.
in other news i'm a total sweat machine. yesterday it was eh about 39 degrees c here. thats like 110 . and doing yoga in the afternoon i was 1-sweating so much that my whole outfit was transparent -as i have to wear all white. and 2- slipping at every sun salutation. we did a stretch with a partner where we held hands and did back bends. except me and laney tried to do it and our hands kept slipping out because of how sweaty we both were.
and the monkeys.
every day in yoga a couple of monkeys crawl in the windows to eat bananas . i know. such a stereotype. and mess around and generally distract. one morning we were doing yoga outside because it was too hot inside and this massive beast jumped out from the trees. this was as elizabeth would say like a man in a monkey suit he was so big. and he was black and gray, not brown. and his tail was like a big ass snake. but indu- the teacher says that these ones are actually nice and you can feed them and hang out if you like. which i did see later on that day- an old sadhu had given one a bag of biscuts and they sat together on a bench like a coupla pals just eating their snacks.
but the little ones will bite. indu says. the little ones are the fuckers that is for sure. one afternoon two came in in the midst of a teenage slap fight or something. we were supposed to be meditating but they were at the front of the room pushing and fighting and sliding across the floor. i opened one eye to see one just laying there on his side with his head resting on one hand like george from seinfeld in a photo shoot. hilarious. and i'm trying to be all yoga and om about it while i suppress my laughter. you can hear the one pushing the other one against the wall and crash and boom and oooh oooh aahh ahhh at each other. Indu finally started us all doing OMs until we could get the negative 'vibes' or whatevah out. and they did finally leave. finally.
cheeky monkeys.
so yeah. i'm liking the ashram and the yoga and really hoping it will stick and i'll be able to continue the practice after i leave. i might get a little book of the poses though just so i can remember the sequence, etc. i have the weekend to laze around and get more massages and maybe get some palm reading or my birth chart done while i'm in this spot. so now i will continue to digest my 'hello to the queen' so hasta. exclamation point.

Rollin' with the Ganges

The road to Rishikesh was long and bumpy. I sat squished between the window and a woman in a hot pink sari for eh, about nine hours. I stared out at Indian guys with one hand on their hips and the other elbow resting on or draped around their boyfriend's shoulder, all while maintaining a piercing stare at everyone on the bus. Schoolboys lined up with arms locked, old women dragging kerosene tanks across the street, cows and monkeys and forests? Delicious street stand thali and ipod listening and the time flew by. Then switched buses for another hour and a half ride into the beautiful land of Rishikesh. A land flooded with religious pilgrims eager to ring bells and do puja and bathe/swim/dunk themselves in the Ganges. I found a lovely clean guesthouse for less for four days than I had to pay for one in Shimla. With a balcony I can hang my laundry on and crickets at night that hum and remind me of summers in Reno. I read two books in three days, I drank a boatload of Chai, and wandered around staring at the beautifully clad Indian women. I walked over to check out the ashram area where I will be doing my yoga course and then wandered down to the Ganges after that. The water here is nothing like in Varanasi. The river begins here so it is clear and cool and rushing rapidly past over rocks and across the massive banks that split the town of Rishikesh in two. I walked down a bathing ghat and put my feet in DAMN it was soo cold. And watched the people swimming and bathing and doing various ceremonial somethings I have no clue about. I was about to leave but saw a "Ladies Ghat" and so wandered over there and sat with these three elderly Indian women in bright red and pink saris. A mother and daughter were frolicking in the water and so I looked around and said why not? What am I waiting for? I'm in India. I'm going in the Ganges.
Fully dressed I removed my shoes and made my way down the cement steps of the ghat. Whoo! So cold it took my breath away but I inched down and down the steps and chatted with the mom/daughter duo. Then took the plunge and dunked myself in the holy water of the Ganges River. It felt amazingly refreshing and bone-chillingly cold but so awesome. I lay on my back floating in the river and smiling. The young girl was so cute. "Could I be having your email address?" "Pardon me but what is your nationality?" "Did you know that the Ganges River is a holy river and that when you bathe in it all your sins are purified and washed away?" This girl was full of information. And so cute and a hilarious swimmer I might add. The equivalent of doing jumping jacks but in water I think is a fair comparison. I hung out for a bit, did some more dunks and then waded to shore to dry off. The hot Indian sun was scorching and I totally got a ridiculous neck sunburn as I sat there watching the flow of women and children migrate to the ghats to dunk in the water. Skinny and Old women in puse green saris held onto long chains and slowly lowered themselves into the water for a good dunking. Aunties and Moms and Daughters all joined hands and dunked in unison laughing all the while. Little babies play with their feet in the water and bless themselves as they trickle water on their own heads to ease the heat of midday. I just sat and drew and smiled for hours. Little boys came up and asked my name and country and who was I drawing madam? Women held either side of long red scarves and let the wind dry what the river had made damp. Young beautiful girls in elaborate outfits and gold bracelets and earrings shyly descended into the water and did the ceremonious three dips. I sat there basking in my love for this country and for the beautiful women I encounter everyday and for my luck in stumbling upon the Ladies Ghat.
Eventually I had to go, hungry and hot I wandered back through town. Stopped to get a mango to eat along the way. Now I'm pretty used to being stared at but this one was hilarious. A big family was all sitting around eating ice cream by the side of the road and they all started staring and pointing and talking about me from a while away and then I heard one person shout "It's a mango! She's eating a mango!"
Why is this so interesting? I have no idea but it still made me laugh. Oh the spectacle of a gringa walking around India eating a mango.
I head back over today to begin my yoga course at Parmarth Niketan Ashram. So adios for a few weeks! Its Yoga, Its Yoga tiiimmee.

The Journey vs.The Destination

All aboard the Himalayan Queen! I was on my first Indian train all on my lonesome. (For like thirty seconds.) This sweet Indian family sitting next to me adopted me for the first leg of my journey from Delhi to Kalka. The mom spoke only Hindi but her teenage son translated. We chatted about all the usual stuff, where are you from? are you alone? are you married? etc. I stared out at the changing landscape and listened to music for a while. Then they fed me some breakfast, homemade parathas and some delicious okra/chili pepper concoction. And they invited me to go with them to visit their 14 day old nephew. Ohh how I love India. But i resisted. After five days in Delhi I was literally heading for the hills.
Shimla. The spot where all the Indian families head when the heat becomes too much. See in India people don't "summer" in warm places, they summer in the cool Himalayas. The two train journey began its second leg on the Toy train from Kalka to Shimla. This is like a Darjeeling Limited-style ordeal, goes totally slow and creeps up the hills to Shimla for about five hours. But it was totally worth it. I had an incredible time going up and up and up. And getting trivia from the Indian boy next to me on what everything was out the window. And watching the dad in the family across from me lean over his wife and son about every ten minutes to take the obligatory out the train window and scenery shot. The family was adorable and the boy gazed in amazement out the window the entire ride and him and his mamma counted all the tunnels we passed through. The fed me chips and thali and happiness all around -oh how I love trains! About three quarters of the way up it began to rain. And the cool, sweet smell of rain on dry land was intoxicating. I fell asleep in the long dark tunnels, I drank warm Chai and ate samosas and watched the monkeys in the forest as we trekked past. And Finally evening came and we arrived in Shimla.
Houses and Hotels are stacked upon the hills of Shimla and the place is like Dharmsala on crack there are so many people. I arrive in the rain and decide I don't have the energy to trek up to the Mall area where all the chill hotels are so I reluctantly overpay for this shit room near the bus station, buy a coupla mangoes and some noodles in a plastic bag and admit defeat. The night was spent reading and meditating and planning my escape. Which I did, morning came and I bolted.
What a workout. Up and up these winding streets and three hotels later I end up at my spot. So expensive but its high season and the Indian families have descended upon Shimla (and the cheaper spots. But for $us 20/night I have my own clean, quiet room and bathroom(sometimes with water) TV with tons of movie channels and balcony.
I wander all over the town during the next two days blissfully doing nothing. I read some books, ate some food, drank some tea, got stared at like no other. This being a mostly Indian tourist spot, I was pretty much the only western girl around. I a really good brownie one day, and even had nachos the next day. I went to the movies and saw this movie called Fashion. This crazy three hour long epic about a nice sweet girl from a small town who moves to Mumbai to be a model. And she doesn't drink or smoke or kiss boys. But after she starts getting into the fashion industry she starts drinking red wine, and smoking cigarettes and its all down hill from there. It was in Hindi but with enough English lines for me to get the gist and plus it was awesome to watch a movie about the Indian fashion world nonetheless. Ohh models.
Shimla was a nice, cool break from the hectic heat of Delhi. But too expensive to stay more than three days. Plus Rishikesh, the Ganges, and yoga awaits!