Why did the Canadian climb the 800 metre Hill again? Because, just because alright?

"Because it is there." George Mallory (1886-1924), in answer to the question 'Why do you want to climb Mt. Everest ?'.

Why not? I thought when the fellow from yoga class suggested it, why not climb to that temple atop that hill again? The view was beautiful.

I had suggested to my fellow Om-chanting-bunnies that we meet for Yoga practice, while Swamiji was away, unfortunately attending a funeral. Our regularly scheduled meditation had been cancelled. (There's four of us die-hards in total, 2 Canadians, a Spaniard and an Aussie. Go Team Canada! But truly, in this brief span of time, I have come to adore them all. We work well together, a very encouraging group)

"Mia, no let's climb and meditate at the top of the mountain," suggests Minchou, and we yoginis three agree. (Yogini is a female yoga practitioner, my apologies if this is redundant information for youse guys)

We agree to meet later at Sarah's hotel, which is very close to where Minchou and I are staying at the Hotel Om. Jessie joined us there and we set off, through the town, down Sadar Bazaar road, past the Brahma temple, down the dirt road, up the hill.

Sarah, if you recall is the other Ashramite. Jessie is the lovely Aussie gal who turned up the morning after I was having my meltdown about staying on by myself, to study with Swamiji, someone I couldn't always understand. (Perhaps you've read the Itty Bitty post of favouriteSwamiji quotes? Now imagine trying to bend backwards or balance on one foot while those instructions are being handed out. Shanti, sure, shanti.)

Half way up the hill, I said to my companions "I'm going to stop here for a moment, and pretend to admire the view, but I'd like you all to know I want my ashes scattered here. Please don't bother taking me back to Varanasi for the cremation."

I didn't think they should be burdened, y'know? I thought that could be a real bummer for them. I was way too winded to communicate that my dear friends back home could split up all my books. One hopes my friends would mindfully practice aparigraha, the practice of non-grasping, non-possessiveness, and also donate some of the books to the Vancouver Public Library.

The contribution could be worded thusly:

Donated by the generous spirit who touched many hearts. She was a writer who failed to make her mark before her body succumbed to the intake of too many pastries, making the passageway for the hilltop climb difficult, treacherous, and finally, deadly. Eufemia would like it noted that the Lord*, her shepherd; maketh her to lie down in in the desert of Rajasthan: He leadeth her beside the land of no hot water showers. He restoreth her soul: He leadeth she in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though she walk through the valley of the shadow of Death, she will fear no evil or toilet facility: for He is with her; her cup of chai runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow her all the days of her life. Surely, she will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

*In case you've struggled with the term 'Lord', as I have on occasion, I'm adding a brief commercial break here: Dance, Dance, where ever you may be, I am the Lord of the Dance said He and I'll lead you all, where ever you may be, and I'll lead you all in a dance said He.

That's what I'm talking about, bay-bee. Call her or him what you like, make offerings and prayers anytime or anywhere but especially in your heart. And don't forget to Dance. (Image to go with this sentiment: A picture of the cosmos, a swirling mass of stars and cosmic dust, with a giant red arrow pointing into the dust and the words "You are here" Isn't that amazing? You are here, and from what I understand, it takes some effort to aquire this human form. You didn't just reincarnate yesterday, y'know?)

Three quarters of the way up, Minchou offered to take my backpack, which only contained water, my camera, an extra shawl, a sweater, a notebook and a pen.

"No, thank you, that's nice of you, but, it's not my backpack that's the problem. It's my body," I said, and quoted Swamiji "See you young look but body like old man."

Some days Swamiji isn't talking about me, but often, one of his eyes is looking my way. He sometimes can't remember my name as Mia or Maya, so he'll say "Canada," (which made Sarah once respond with "Me?" I assured her he meant me. Yesterday, Swamiji called someone Argentina, and today he called a Chinese woman Japany. "Please, Japany, you see what they do, please you do as them or wrong is this." I felt better. Yoga United Nations in Pushkar)

We made it to the top, Jai!

You think you know someone, and then they turn into a mountain goat. Sarah went further along the mountin than I did on my first climb so we followed, even though there were many prickly bushes and burs and it was extremely rocky and me not so much liking the dropoffs, sometimes a little to close to the path. What path, really, what path? "I was kind of guessing," Sarah says on the way back. Oh, ah, I see. No worries, we just need to get back to the flatter surface by the temple before it gets completely pitch black because, well that kind of thing tends to stress me out. I know, weird.

Choose, Eufemia: being on the jagged cliff side of a hill in the desert after dark, or a scented bubble bath in warm water (possibly even tepid). Hmmmm, lemme see, this is a tough one now. Give me a minute.

Okay, it was an exceptionally stunning sunset, and to look at that magnificent tangerine sun set in the sky, I felt blessed. The sun disappears into the desert cloudmist when it's still high in the sky, and there's light for quite some time after the sun is gone. Then we sat beside the chai stand ("Seriously? Wow, that's some climb these folks have to get to work every day!" "They live/sleep up here Mia" "Oh.") and looked at Pushkar from afar.

The chai stand folks made a fire for us. Yes, the fire was started by burning plastic. It's done all the time here, no surprise about my cough. It's hard to breathe burning plastic, even with all the experience I gathered in kindergarden from sniffing glue when I was supposed to be making tissue paper hearts.

Did I mention Sarah and I not only bonded in the Gulag but had a tender moment where she asked me to check her bottom, because she was worried the inflamation wasn't a rash but possibly the parasite that burrows under your skin she'd recently heard about, and she tends to be a hypochondriac.

Pardonnez moi, but what parasite?

She thinks she's a hypochondriac, but I'm the one that was imagining a flesh eating virus situation when the thorn sliver got caught under the skin of my index finger. I was doing my best to follow Sarah and the path, and I stuck my hand out for balance. And the stupid bush bit me. I didn't know if my insurance would cover that kind of travel emergency. Also, I've already seen an Emergency room here, I have no desire to tour the rest of the hospital: "Uhm, no thanks, I think I'll just leave by the Shiva Pavillion, okay by you?"

By the way, I asked if Sarah minded the rash inspection being mentioned here, and she said no, as long as you're all aware she's fine and that it was just her cheeks I had a gander at. So no problems, we're all cool right? I mean, what's a butt inspection between friends? Everyone's skin is suffering from the lack of exfoliation that comes from regular hot showers and baths.

Back to the mountain top. (Oh so now it's a mountain, is it? Yup, and it was in Nepal, and I didn't need a sherpa as I was going solo just to prove it could be done, and I had to train for 4 months before I could even attempt the climb) Yes, there's warnings on the way up to not stay on the mountain after the sun goes down, and there's a part I found tricky climbing down, but managed because I had my flashlight. Jessie and I went down together.

Imagine, I had this pagal (crazy) idea I would climb it to watch the sunrise or sunset at least once a week.

"Yes, Mia, you should do, is only 40 minutes."

"No, Babu, it took me an hour and a half."

He laughed, as if I was joking, "No!"

"Uh, yeah, yes. At least."

"Why for you practicing yoga?"

Beats me. And I mean that literally.