As Shafi escorted us out of Visthar, very afraid for us that we'd be late for our train, we shouted out the windows, "Bye Visthar!" "Bye School of Peace!" "Bye Bandhavi!" and we were returned with one, "Bye Aunty!" and then we drove out of the gates. It was hard to leave Visthar a second time. It was hard to leave the first time, but this time it was on our own terms, which makes it both easier, and harder
Before I left Visthar in 2001 I hugged a coconut tree, because Raj, our reiki teacher, told us they are an especially good source of energy. It was also one of the last things I did this time. However, unlike in 2001, we didn't have a few days to gravely walk the campus, feeling our loss. This time we were immersed in work, in friendships...in laundry, packing cleaning. We had a little good-bye ceremony at tea break, and both Ambryn and I started to cry. We have been so graciously welcomed, immediately invited into circles of family and friends, and it's hard to just walk away. But this is what we do. Rhati translated for us as we said good-bye to the Bandhavi girls, just minutes before we left. They looked at us sadly, saying, "Aunty, no." I held open my freshly mendhied palm and the held it in their hands, stroked it, and kissed it. It was hard to say good-bye.
We also were able to spend a last night on the town with our friends Robi, Vinay and Giddeon, and of course Edison, our friend and co-worker Lyola's husband. (See motorcyle photos.) We've connected with these guys so easily, they are an absolute riot, and we've already missed them so much!
So, after a long train ride to Trivandrum (in which a mouse crawled across my foot in the first few minutes and shortly before we got off we shared our berth with three police officers and two men handcuffed together) and about 24 hours in Trivandrum in which we bathed about 6 times each due to the heat, we boarded a few different local buses for the beach town of Varkala.
It's quite easy to be happy here, as the Indian ocean is absolutely stunning, and most of the services here are on these breath-taking coconut-lined cliff tops. We're also staying at a state run (and incredibly cheap) guest house (Kerala continually democratically elects a socialist government...it's so interesting to see Hammer and Sicle flags every where...and to take note of the communist/socialist influences...Sometimes I fee like I'm in Moscow again.) in a former maharaja's palace! I'm sure my mother is saying, "Two girls from rural Minnesota..."
So, we're transitioning from having a home, having a community, having work...in Bangalore, and being on the open road. This seems like a pretty good place to do it. I've purchased a pair of green "Ali Baba" pants, so here we are, touring. And, it's interesting to grapple with this role of the tourist. After the Bandhavi girls repeatedly pointed at other white people saying, "Aunty! Same!" Ambryn and I have come to refer to all other white tourists as "Sames." It's easier. It is kind of hard to be inVarkala, where, as white tourists, we're regarded first as consumers, and second as people (or at least, at its worst, this is how it feels). At the same time, I love soaking up the warm sun, and then cooling off in powerful waves of the Indian ocean. I don't love that large groups of men spend all afternoon staring at the white tourists, motorcyle helmets under their arms. Though, according to our guidebook, swimming is considered eccentric. Growing up with Minnesota lakes everywhere (and swimming my way through childhood), that's hard for me to understand, but here, I'm always trying to understand.
Before I left Visthar in 2001 I hugged a coconut tree, because Raj, our reiki teacher, told us they are an especially good source of energy. It was also one of the last things I did this time. However, unlike in 2001, we didn't have a few days to gravely walk the campus, feeling our loss. This time we were immersed in work, in friendships...in laundry, packing cleaning. We had a little good-bye ceremony at tea break, and both Ambryn and I started to cry. We have been so graciously welcomed, immediately invited into circles of family and friends, and it's hard to just walk away. But this is what we do. Rhati translated for us as we said good-bye to the Bandhavi girls, just minutes before we left. They looked at us sadly, saying, "Aunty, no." I held open my freshly mendhied palm and the held it in their hands, stroked it, and kissed it. It was hard to say good-bye.
We also were able to spend a last night on the town with our friends Robi, Vinay and Giddeon, and of course Edison, our friend and co-worker Lyola's husband. (See motorcyle photos.) We've connected with these guys so easily, they are an absolute riot, and we've already missed them so much!
So, after a long train ride to Trivandrum (in which a mouse crawled across my foot in the first few minutes and shortly before we got off we shared our berth with three police officers and two men handcuffed together) and about 24 hours in Trivandrum in which we bathed about 6 times each due to the heat, we boarded a few different local buses for the beach town of Varkala.
It's quite easy to be happy here, as the Indian ocean is absolutely stunning, and most of the services here are on these breath-taking coconut-lined cliff tops. We're also staying at a state run (and incredibly cheap) guest house (Kerala continually democratically elects a socialist government...it's so interesting to see Hammer and Sicle flags every where...and to take note of the communist/socialist influences...Sometimes I fee like I'm in Moscow again.) in a former maharaja's palace! I'm sure my mother is saying, "Two girls from rural Minnesota..."
So, we're transitioning from having a home, having a community, having work...in Bangalore, and being on the open road. This seems like a pretty good place to do it. I've purchased a pair of green "Ali Baba" pants, so here we are, touring. And, it's interesting to grapple with this role of the tourist. After the Bandhavi girls repeatedly pointed at other white people saying, "Aunty! Same!" Ambryn and I have come to refer to all other white tourists as "Sames." It's easier. It is kind of hard to be inVarkala, where, as white tourists, we're regarded first as consumers, and second as people (or at least, at its worst, this is how it feels). At the same time, I love soaking up the warm sun, and then cooling off in powerful waves of the Indian ocean. I don't love that large groups of men spend all afternoon staring at the white tourists, motorcyle helmets under their arms. Though, according to our guidebook, swimming is considered eccentric. Growing up with Minnesota lakes everywhere (and swimming my way through childhood), that's hard for me to understand, but here, I'm always trying to understand.
Soon, we will board an early morning bus for Neyyar Dam, and begin our weeklong "yoga vacation" at the Sivananda Ashram. I am currently experiencing some mild "ashram anxiety" as I've come to call it. On the beach we met a middle-aged European man (he asked us to watch his things while he swam) who had just returned from two and a half months at Amma's Ashram. (Amma is the "hugging mother." She visited Tacoma when I lived there. Her ashram is nearby. Her ministrying is hugging people, all day, every day. The yogi who founded the Sivananda centers is known as "the flying guru.") He was an odd man. He seemed somewhat unstable, and he looked me in the eye, pulling on his cigarette, and said, "Ashram life is hard." Ambryn and I have maintained a good sense of humor about our upcoming ashram visit, so I quickly turned to her with mock fright. I have a hard time with any philosophy that is touted as "the way" for everyone. I also have some serious questions as to why garlic and onions are forbidden from the menu. But, I like yoga. And, this place has a very good, international, reputation. When in Rome...
So, we'll join the ranks of The Beatles and other spiritual nourishment seekers and be Westerners spending time at an Ashram in India. I have to admit that the part of me that seeks order and discipline is quite excited. There is also the possibility that I'll come out a little healthier. Mostly, I don't know what to expect, and I'm excited for the adventure.
1 comment:
Wow, this sounds like quite a transition from all your important and busy work at Visthar to traveling the open Indian road, as it were. So exciting! You two are so cool. I think it's very interesting that swimming is considered eccentric. Why, I wonder? I cannot imagine what it would be like to look at the Indian Ocean...! Here, I am done rotating, and graduate next week! I have a place in Uptown near the Wedge where I will move later this month. Transitioning out of Milwaukee is sad! But exciting at the same time. Can't wait to read more, and go to a baseball game with you. lovelovelovelovelove andy
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