Yesterday, we went by auto-rickshaw to Sarnath. It looks like, from the guidebook map, that it's just a stone's throw away. In fact, it is, and as Rich commented, "It's like a suburb. Like the trek from Etobicoke to Burlington" - for those that might be thinking the scenery was spectacular - Rich's quote seemed most appropriate.
I'm not sure how people don't get whiplash from the roads & driving here. The speed bumps (I couldn't believe it!) meant we were on a mini-roller coaster, like being at the PNE only without the potential to raise your arms above your head as the rollercoaster is going down. Only the potential to cover your face as the motorcyclist comes right towards your rickshaw, veering off at the last second and nearly clipping the guy on the bicycle next to your rickshaw. In fact, when the traffic 'slowed' the guy on the bicycle used the rickshaw to hold himself up, rather than put his foot on the ground and risk it being run over. We are centimetres away, not inches, from the next vehicle, person, cow, mangy dog (those puppies grow up). I'm still forgetting the direction of traffic is different, because half the time the driver is going towards oncoming traffic.
Sarnath is where Buddha gave his first sermon, after he attained enlightment. He preached about the middle way, advising all not to practice 1) self-mortification and 2) sexual indulgence. There's several monuments, including a plaster model of Buddha and the first men who sat and listened to him, and a copy of the speech, called the 'wheel of truth'.
After the rickshaw ride, our French friend Christine, who joined us for the trip sat down on the grass and said "I'll wait here" I think the ride there nearly did her in. (I felt the same after the ride back) This morning she told me she slept 13 hours and feels much better.
Slept? Who can sleep with the mosquitos around? Apparently everyone else, that's who.
Mosquitos: 73
Eufemia: 4
Yes, that's right, I killed 4 mosquitos.
In fact, I felt I was getting pretty quick and good at it. The exact their revenge every night and in many ways I wouldn't care except that I had this massive headache last night, woke up in the middle of the night covered in sweat, and am now waiting for Rich to wake up and tell me if I look like I have malaria. I'm not sure how he would know, but best to get a grounded person's persepctive when one has a tendency to be as anxious as me.
While I'm enjoying Rich's company and sense of humour, he's enjoying the fact that I'm a mosquito magnet. The bugs are leaving him completely alone. (This is reminding me of Shelley's summer vacation with her friends and she turned out to be the mosquito favourite, much to the happiness and relaxation of her friends)
It's unbelieveable, and while many know I can embellish, I am totally low-balling that number of mosquito bites. Yesterday at breakfast, the many French folk sitting around looked at my arms and hands, watching me count up 16 new bites. Emilie said "No, this cannot be a mosquito, it must be something else." Thank god Rich was there, saying "No, it's mosquitos." Or I would have been like "What? what else could it be? What else do they have here? NO don't tell me!"
Rich told them, "Yeah, I don;t get why she's being eaten alive. She's the bait. They leave me alone and I sleep fine."
Emilie said "Yes, it's the blood. They like your blood."
Well I suppopse I should be grateful that it's mosquitos we're talking about and not vampires, but still.
Perhaps I should lay off the sugary chai, but Rich is knocking them back just as fast as I am.
Yesterday morning I also had a great Yoga class, with a teacher called Siddhartha. How great! How auspicious is that name? I went with a band of merry french folk who swung by to pick me up for the same class today but as I really can't tell if my cold is just exacerbated by yesterday's outing or if this is the beginning of a fever, I decided to sit today's class out.
Om, cough, sputter, Shanti
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Monday, January 7, 2008
Traffic Tales
A school bus nearly drove over my foot tonight, and I barely registered it. It appears I have arrived.
A few days ago, Rich* and I were walking along and a cow, a cow with horns (I think those puppies are actually called bulls) moved it's head towards me, nearly grazing me with its horn. I jumped and ended up on the other side of Richard, who said "Please, don't jump."
(*By the way, since some have asked by email, Richard is my friend, a traveling buddy, and he re-taught me how to play chess today. As you may have ascertained, he has a good sense of humour, a great quality for traveling late at night and waiting in the cold dark middle of nowhere to catch a connecting train.)
I replied "Sorry, I got scared."
To which Rich said "I know, but your jumping scared me." Apparently, I could have scared the cow too. Well later that same day, Rakeesh was showing us around another area of town and he jumped when a cow moved towards him, and he lives here.
So I pointed it out to Rich "Did you catch that? Rak jumped."
"Yeah. I saw that."
The next day, when a cow moved a little quickly (which is extremely rare, really, they are massive and they don't move fast, though a herd of them did take up the main drag last night and they seemed to be going at quite a clip) I only flinched.
How Zen I felt.
I was practically humming Om Mane Padme Om. Imagine, me in tune with the fracus and fray, the horns blaring and bells ringing and Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti.
The school bus had already passed me when I realised how close it was to me. There are no sidewalks here, so you're on the road with cycle rickshaws, motor rickshaws, cars, cyclists, kids, people, puppies and cows.
The cows still stress me out more. They look placid enough but one never knows what lurks beneath those calm exteriors. One thing for sure, they don't like the flash on the camera.
A few days ago, Rich* and I were walking along and a cow, a cow with horns (I think those puppies are actually called bulls) moved it's head towards me, nearly grazing me with its horn. I jumped and ended up on the other side of Richard, who said "Please, don't jump."
(*By the way, since some have asked by email, Richard is my friend, a traveling buddy, and he re-taught me how to play chess today. As you may have ascertained, he has a good sense of humour, a great quality for traveling late at night and waiting in the cold dark middle of nowhere to catch a connecting train.)
I replied "Sorry, I got scared."
To which Rich said "I know, but your jumping scared me." Apparently, I could have scared the cow too. Well later that same day, Rakeesh was showing us around another area of town and he jumped when a cow moved towards him, and he lives here.
So I pointed it out to Rich "Did you catch that? Rak jumped."
"Yeah. I saw that."
The next day, when a cow moved a little quickly (which is extremely rare, really, they are massive and they don't move fast, though a herd of them did take up the main drag last night and they seemed to be going at quite a clip) I only flinched.
How Zen I felt.
I was practically humming Om Mane Padme Om. Imagine, me in tune with the fracus and fray, the horns blaring and bells ringing and Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti.
The school bus had already passed me when I realised how close it was to me. There are no sidewalks here, so you're on the road with cycle rickshaws, motor rickshaws, cars, cyclists, kids, people, puppies and cows.
The cows still stress me out more. They look placid enough but one never knows what lurks beneath those calm exteriors. One thing for sure, they don't like the flash on the camera.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Very Peculiar Benefits
Did I mention I finished reading Eat, Pray, Love at the Ashram during the 2 days I was sick in bed? (during the week I also subsisted on tea biscuits, bananas and oranges because I couldn't see another bowl of rice without my stomach churning?) I enjoyed it, and tried very hard not to compare her India experience to mine, since comparision is a dead end street. Still, I decided my title for my version is Smell, Skip, Surrender.
Smell: Walking along toward Jain Ghat today after our yoga class and lunch, Rich says "Except for the smell of shit, it's quite beautiful today."
Skip: "Watch out Miss. This is Holy seed, not just seed, this is holy seed because it comes from the cows." Rakeesh says.
I said "Holy seed, wow, I didn't know it was called that." Rich stepped in to say "He's saying shit. Holy Shit, not seed."
Ah.
Not a problem, I can handle that. In fact, if you were to look at my feet before the blessed hot water shower, I've been mired in holy, dancing with the divine, since I arrived and put on the flip flops. You can try to skip over it, or jump over it, and be extra careful when backing up to a wall or turning a corner here.
Surrender: "Sometimes surrender means giving up trying to understand and becoming comfortable with not knowing."- Eckhart Tolle in Stillness Speaks.
Today I stood on top of a small hotel just off Mansowar Ghat, having a Yoga class. The teacher was fantastic, and this time no crowd could drop by. Rich was with me, so it was like a private class for two from this man who has been pratcising and teaching for years. He explained a lot of things first, then started the breathing exercises and then we were into Asanas.
Some stuff was beyond me: "If you do this posture, you can take water into your rectum and cleanse your stomach this way." Often he would give a posture and say, "Very peculiar benefits this ."
Now, at the end of the day, I'm once again feeling the burn, and this wasn't as non-stop cardio as the one in Bodhgaya - but it was 2 hours (did I know I signed up for 2 hours? No sir. Did Rich? Nope. Ouchie)
Then I went for an Ayurvedic massage at a beauty parlour near the other hotel we'd stayed at - and I wasn't sure what ot would be like, they didn't advertise doing massage at all. Rich had noticed women coming out and pointed it out to me, encouraging me to go ask.
So I set that up yesterday and today I was in somebody's house above their salon business, essentially in the master bedroom of the house, having these two women who spoke little english massage me with the oil that smelled like roses. (I haven't smelled this good in a long time.)
The master bedroom was right off the living room, and when someone was in the living room watching television, which sounded like Bollywood MTV, I tried to ignore the fact that I was naked in someone's family home and that someone was in the next room watching TV (volume on high). My massagers started singing along with the MTV singer. There's no New Age waterfall/flute music happening in that environment.
Then a domestic dispute broke out, between a man and woman with the yelling sounding a lot like it would in an Italian home. I hoped it wasn't the man of teh house going "Why can't I go lie down for a nap? Who the hell's in my bedroom?"
One woman kept saying "Good? Relax?"
"Yes," I said, "Atcha" (thereby using the only Hindi I can remember from paying Pawan, a 12 year old CD hawker outside the temple in Bodhgaya to teach me. Atcha means "okay". Dhanyavad is "Thank you". Kripya means "please" but has a connotation like "have mercy". No doubt you can guess, the last one's my favourite as I thought I might have to ask for mercy often.)
My favourite part was when the women kept on having to give me a wedgie for to be able to massage my bottom while I was on my stomach, because I didn't remove my underwear.
"Good?"
Atcha. Kripya! Atcha.
Smell: Walking along toward Jain Ghat today after our yoga class and lunch, Rich says "Except for the smell of shit, it's quite beautiful today."
Skip: "Watch out Miss. This is Holy seed, not just seed, this is holy seed because it comes from the cows." Rakeesh says.
I said "Holy seed, wow, I didn't know it was called that." Rich stepped in to say "He's saying shit. Holy Shit, not seed."
Ah.
Not a problem, I can handle that. In fact, if you were to look at my feet before the blessed hot water shower, I've been mired in holy, dancing with the divine, since I arrived and put on the flip flops. You can try to skip over it, or jump over it, and be extra careful when backing up to a wall or turning a corner here.
Surrender: "Sometimes surrender means giving up trying to understand and becoming comfortable with not knowing."- Eckhart Tolle in Stillness Speaks.
Today I stood on top of a small hotel just off Mansowar Ghat, having a Yoga class. The teacher was fantastic, and this time no crowd could drop by. Rich was with me, so it was like a private class for two from this man who has been pratcising and teaching for years. He explained a lot of things first, then started the breathing exercises and then we were into Asanas.
Some stuff was beyond me: "If you do this posture, you can take water into your rectum and cleanse your stomach this way." Often he would give a posture and say, "Very peculiar benefits this ."
Now, at the end of the day, I'm once again feeling the burn, and this wasn't as non-stop cardio as the one in Bodhgaya - but it was 2 hours (did I know I signed up for 2 hours? No sir. Did Rich? Nope. Ouchie)
Then I went for an Ayurvedic massage at a beauty parlour near the other hotel we'd stayed at - and I wasn't sure what ot would be like, they didn't advertise doing massage at all. Rich had noticed women coming out and pointed it out to me, encouraging me to go ask.
So I set that up yesterday and today I was in somebody's house above their salon business, essentially in the master bedroom of the house, having these two women who spoke little english massage me with the oil that smelled like roses. (I haven't smelled this good in a long time.)
The master bedroom was right off the living room, and when someone was in the living room watching television, which sounded like Bollywood MTV, I tried to ignore the fact that I was naked in someone's family home and that someone was in the next room watching TV (volume on high). My massagers started singing along with the MTV singer. There's no New Age waterfall/flute music happening in that environment.
Then a domestic dispute broke out, between a man and woman with the yelling sounding a lot like it would in an Italian home. I hoped it wasn't the man of teh house going "Why can't I go lie down for a nap? Who the hell's in my bedroom?"
One woman kept saying "Good? Relax?"
"Yes," I said, "Atcha" (thereby using the only Hindi I can remember from paying Pawan, a 12 year old CD hawker outside the temple in Bodhgaya to teach me. Atcha means "okay". Dhanyavad is "Thank you". Kripya means "please" but has a connotation like "have mercy". No doubt you can guess, the last one's my favourite as I thought I might have to ask for mercy often.)
My favourite part was when the women kept on having to give me a wedgie for to be able to massage my bottom while I was on my stomach, because I didn't remove my underwear.
"Good?"
Atcha. Kripya! Atcha.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
God is in the details
Alright, since Holly asked - I spent New Year's Eve in the Buddhist Mecca of Bodhgaya watching X-Men: the Last Stand. I know, what the heck is that about?
Before that, we toured some temples, watched them play fireworks out of the Vietnamese Temple. I had a special lassi, with my dinner, also known as a bang lassi, because heck, it was new year's. That meant I laughed for about 15 minutes straight, and then really wanted to eat a lot. So, on my list of 101 things to do before I die, consume a bang lassi wasn't on there, but as the saying goes, "When in Bodhgaya, do as a misplaced Roman Empire descendant would."
I was too tired to stay up for the Noodle celebration/offering that was happening at the Japanese temple. I wasn't completely sure I read the sign right, so, after Rich and I had a chai at the stand across the street from the the Hotel Sanghmitra, we were just trying to stay up until midnight.
Today, Rich and I found a place to go to try yoga tomorrow, the Shiva Ganges View Guest House. They have a sign saying you can do Yoga for "pshycosis, mental distress, tiredness, sexual problems and piles." There was way more on the list (like 30 items actually) but I didn't want to be obvious in my staring. So that's my 9 a.m. plan, the yoga cure-all and then, who knows what might happen.
Today, I totally took the opportunity to go buy a shawl at someone's house, just to get away from the two 11 year old boys that decided to come stand near us as the gentleman talking about his shawls, suggesting we come and see his wares. Simply because one boy was completely starkers and lathered up from his bathing in the Ganges.
It's true, travel expands your world.
oh the places you'll go, the sites you'll see.
The bathers you'll meet as you're walking down the street.
Ah, life.
Before that, we toured some temples, watched them play fireworks out of the Vietnamese Temple. I had a special lassi, with my dinner, also known as a bang lassi, because heck, it was new year's. That meant I laughed for about 15 minutes straight, and then really wanted to eat a lot. So, on my list of 101 things to do before I die, consume a bang lassi wasn't on there, but as the saying goes, "When in Bodhgaya, do as a misplaced Roman Empire descendant would."
I was too tired to stay up for the Noodle celebration/offering that was happening at the Japanese temple. I wasn't completely sure I read the sign right, so, after Rich and I had a chai at the stand across the street from the the Hotel Sanghmitra, we were just trying to stay up until midnight.
Today, Rich and I found a place to go to try yoga tomorrow, the Shiva Ganges View Guest House. They have a sign saying you can do Yoga for "pshycosis, mental distress, tiredness, sexual problems and piles." There was way more on the list (like 30 items actually) but I didn't want to be obvious in my staring. So that's my 9 a.m. plan, the yoga cure-all and then, who knows what might happen.
Today, I totally took the opportunity to go buy a shawl at someone's house, just to get away from the two 11 year old boys that decided to come stand near us as the gentleman talking about his shawls, suggesting we come and see his wares. Simply because one boy was completely starkers and lathered up from his bathing in the Ganges.
It's true, travel expands your world.
oh the places you'll go, the sites you'll see.
The bathers you'll meet as you're walking down the street.
Ah, life.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Hello Sister, Hello Friend
All around Bodhgaya, it was "hello sister, hello Friend" but yesterday, on the ghats, a boy called me Auntie, at least I think that's what he said, but hard to say for sure.
I mean, the day before, walking along the ghats, a teenager called out that he had peanuts for me and I called back "No thank you" very politely, and realized only when he yelled back"No problem! is Full Power!" and laughed, that he was really saying he a penis for me.
So, I'm still missing a few things in the translation and accents here.
"Full Power" was what our new Varanasi best friend Rakesh was telling me he would pray for my recovery at the temple, "Full Power MIss, Full Power". Rakesh found us this much nicer hotel & took us on a back alley tour of Varanasi on our first very long day here. He also asked for a tip, told us we shouldn't trust him, told me several times I was beautiful (you should all see my mosquito bitten face right now to know this guy was working overtime for his tip, I look like a leper. To paraphrase/quote my traveling friend Richard, when I told him the number of bites on my face: "Is that all? Because it looks a lot worse." He also said "I was going to ask for a pen so I could connect the dots.")
A Rakesh classic quote:
Don't worry, no hurry,
No chicken, no curry
No money, no honey
No wife, no life
No husband, no headache.*
*In case you all need this one translated, as Rakesh felt I did "Because a husband always want something from wife, Miss, and wife always have a headache." Rak left his phone number with us, with me specifically, with an additional "I LIKE YOU MISS" written on it, to which I told Rich, I think our personal tour time is up. Rich offered to sell me to Rakesh, for a few rupees, but that didn't get very far of the ground.
We stayed at the new hotel last night and I was sooooooo happy. I have 27 mosquito bites on my face, 23 on the rest of me, and it looks like the Varanasi bugs bite nastier than Bodhgaya's (well, they're Buddhist bugs in Bodhgaya, they've chosen the middle way, not so much into causing suffering I guess, they've simply accepted the first of the four noble truths about life contains suffering, there is suffering inherent in life)
I thought the cold I'd had since December 13th was gone but it's lingering.
The best news is I had my first hot shower in 5 weeks yesterday! FIVE WEEKS! I knew not to expect luxury, especially at the Ashram, but lots of places advertise hot water when what they really should say is "Tepid" or "Lukewarm" or "I'm flat out lying to you". I alternately nearl;y scalded myself and froze myself, and a bird kept trying to fly into my shower, but the window was shut.
The window has a full on view of the street! I artfully hung my pajamas as a curtain. They say in the guidebook it's best to cover up, and our yoga teacher had said cover legs, ankles, arms, etc. No problem for me, but what's with the window/shower situation, and no curtains?
I think if it was only my ankles showing I wouldn't care, but I'm not into getting arrested for public indecency in India. I mean, after that last hotel, with it's horror decor and scary outside neighbourhood area (not far from a burning ghat! as they advertised on their business card) I can't imagine the prison.
I mean, the day before, walking along the ghats, a teenager called out that he had peanuts for me and I called back "No thank you" very politely, and realized only when he yelled back"No problem! is Full Power!" and laughed, that he was really saying he a penis for me.
So, I'm still missing a few things in the translation and accents here.
"Full Power" was what our new Varanasi best friend Rakesh was telling me he would pray for my recovery at the temple, "Full Power MIss, Full Power". Rakesh found us this much nicer hotel & took us on a back alley tour of Varanasi on our first very long day here. He also asked for a tip, told us we shouldn't trust him, told me several times I was beautiful (you should all see my mosquito bitten face right now to know this guy was working overtime for his tip, I look like a leper. To paraphrase/quote my traveling friend Richard, when I told him the number of bites on my face: "Is that all? Because it looks a lot worse." He also said "I was going to ask for a pen so I could connect the dots.")
A Rakesh classic quote:
Don't worry, no hurry,
No chicken, no curry
No money, no honey
No wife, no life
No husband, no headache.*
*In case you all need this one translated, as Rakesh felt I did "Because a husband always want something from wife, Miss, and wife always have a headache." Rak left his phone number with us, with me specifically, with an additional "I LIKE YOU MISS" written on it, to which I told Rich, I think our personal tour time is up. Rich offered to sell me to Rakesh, for a few rupees, but that didn't get very far of the ground.
We stayed at the new hotel last night and I was sooooooo happy. I have 27 mosquito bites on my face, 23 on the rest of me, and it looks like the Varanasi bugs bite nastier than Bodhgaya's (well, they're Buddhist bugs in Bodhgaya, they've chosen the middle way, not so much into causing suffering I guess, they've simply accepted the first of the four noble truths about life contains suffering, there is suffering inherent in life)
I thought the cold I'd had since December 13th was gone but it's lingering.
The best news is I had my first hot shower in 5 weeks yesterday! FIVE WEEKS! I knew not to expect luxury, especially at the Ashram, but lots of places advertise hot water when what they really should say is "Tepid" or "Lukewarm" or "I'm flat out lying to you". I alternately nearl;y scalded myself and froze myself, and a bird kept trying to fly into my shower, but the window was shut.
The window has a full on view of the street! I artfully hung my pajamas as a curtain. They say in the guidebook it's best to cover up, and our yoga teacher had said cover legs, ankles, arms, etc. No problem for me, but what's with the window/shower situation, and no curtains?
I think if it was only my ankles showing I wouldn't care, but I'm not into getting arrested for public indecency in India. I mean, after that last hotel, with it's horror decor and scary outside neighbourhood area (not far from a burning ghat! as they advertised on their business card) I can't imagine the prison.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Day 2 but for real thi time
Yesterday was a 16 hour day, by the time Rich & I got dinner, and made it back to the hotel. From being on the train, then arriving, and being immediately caught in what the guide book called the Varnasi shakedown.
This may have just posted, in my attempt to be quick in typing. ha, at my 38 words a minute.
So yes, yesterday, Rich got some special purchases made, things that shall remain nameless, and we also got to meet this guy who did Goldie Hawn's Astrology chart back in 1982 when she came here. We got our charts read to, and I was entertained, so that was worth the price of admission alone, but I did argue with the guy, who said to me "I am 80 years old, you are not speaking to me this way."
Why argue, you might ask? Especially when you don't know what the person might say to you, how they might curse you. But he had a few things wrong, and when he offered an extra service that costs 500 Rupees ($15) to do a Puja (an offering) so I could finally have the child I've been wanting (who, me? I'm thinking I worte my birth time down wrong) - well, I got testy, particularly when he said "Man and woman together without child is like tree not bear fruit, a wasted life." I interrupted him to say "that's not true! that's not, I don't believe that at all." That's when he told me his age and how to address him properly. Like Goldie Hawn did.
Now here's what really made me laugh. Today, walking along the ghats, we had these two little girls start talking to us, trying to sell us their postcards, and one girl, maybe 10 years old, tells me she can show me a picture of her with Goldie Hawn from 1984. I think I lost something in the translation, as the kid wasn't alive in 1984. I told her, "No, it's okay, I know what Goldie Hawn looks like."
Varanasi, Spiritual Mecca and Goldie Hawn's International Fan Club Centre.
This may have just posted, in my attempt to be quick in typing. ha, at my 38 words a minute.
So yes, yesterday, Rich got some special purchases made, things that shall remain nameless, and we also got to meet this guy who did Goldie Hawn's Astrology chart back in 1982 when she came here. We got our charts read to, and I was entertained, so that was worth the price of admission alone, but I did argue with the guy, who said to me "I am 80 years old, you are not speaking to me this way."
Why argue, you might ask? Especially when you don't know what the person might say to you, how they might curse you. But he had a few things wrong, and when he offered an extra service that costs 500 Rupees ($15) to do a Puja (an offering) so I could finally have the child I've been wanting (who, me? I'm thinking I worte my birth time down wrong) - well, I got testy, particularly when he said "Man and woman together without child is like tree not bear fruit, a wasted life." I interrupted him to say "that's not true! that's not, I don't believe that at all." That's when he told me his age and how to address him properly. Like Goldie Hawn did.
Now here's what really made me laugh. Today, walking along the ghats, we had these two little girls start talking to us, trying to sell us their postcards, and one girl, maybe 10 years old, tells me she can show me a picture of her with Goldie Hawn from 1984. I think I lost something in the translation, as the kid wasn't alive in 1984. I told her, "No, it's okay, I know what Goldie Hawn looks like."
Varanasi, Spiritual Mecca and Goldie Hawn's International Fan Club Centre.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Buddhists at the gate is the new battlecry
As it said at the entrance to the temple, May Peace Prevail on Earth.
Today, we arrived in Varanasi, after another ridicolous dash to catch the train at 5 a.m. because we were on the wrong platform (sent there by the directions of the Chief Station Master) The train is totally crazy here. In Canada, one can romanticise train travel- here, not so much.
Then you should see our hotel. Okay, it's only $3 each a night but I think the correct term would be 'gross'. So we found another one that's available in 2 days for $3.50, bright, sunney rooms, back yard and a view of the Ganges river from the rooftop where I'll be able to practice my yoga, if I get the nerve, in view of the monkeys and kids.
When we arrived, a tiny toddler walking by, a boy, punched me in the leg. Being that I'm still sick, and nearly froze on the train, it seemed a bad omen. I'm less stressed now.
I took one yoga class, right next to the Mahabodhi Temple, how cool was that? Very cool, except I was the only one in class, and groups of maroon robed tibetan monks stopped to watch. It was an open room, right near the temple, and when the young man said "don't do if you can't" - right before he did a head stand (he did 3 in total) I was like, no problem. The staff, a young boy who gave me chai and the older Korean gentleman I thought was the teacher, did the class with me. They could stand on the heads no problem. But what's life without the opportunity to improve? And I thought I did fairly fine, even the monk from Chennai told me I kept up very well for "someone in your age" (38 is ancient I guess) but the next day, my ribs, my legs and every part of me was aching...
on to the adventure,
Shanti, Shanti, Shanti
love,
Eufemia
Today, we arrived in Varanasi, after another ridicolous dash to catch the train at 5 a.m. because we were on the wrong platform (sent there by the directions of the Chief Station Master) The train is totally crazy here. In Canada, one can romanticise train travel- here, not so much.
Then you should see our hotel. Okay, it's only $3 each a night but I think the correct term would be 'gross'. So we found another one that's available in 2 days for $3.50, bright, sunney rooms, back yard and a view of the Ganges river from the rooftop where I'll be able to practice my yoga, if I get the nerve, in view of the monkeys and kids.
When we arrived, a tiny toddler walking by, a boy, punched me in the leg. Being that I'm still sick, and nearly froze on the train, it seemed a bad omen. I'm less stressed now.
I took one yoga class, right next to the Mahabodhi Temple, how cool was that? Very cool, except I was the only one in class, and groups of maroon robed tibetan monks stopped to watch. It was an open room, right near the temple, and when the young man said "don't do if you can't" - right before he did a head stand (he did 3 in total) I was like, no problem. The staff, a young boy who gave me chai and the older Korean gentleman I thought was the teacher, did the class with me. They could stand on the heads no problem. But what's life without the opportunity to improve? And I thought I did fairly fine, even the monk from Chennai told me I kept up very well for "someone in your age" (38 is ancient I guess) but the next day, my ribs, my legs and every part of me was aching...
on to the adventure,
Shanti, Shanti, Shanti
love,
Eufemia
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