The Fantastic and the Flaky

Pilgrim towns in India do seem imbued with a certain energy, or mania, whatever your choice of words. With that in mind, I felt after a week of quaffing 40 rupee americanos at Del Mar Cafe in Varkala, it was time to hit the dusty trail and head to a major pilgrimage sight, Rameswarem. This is is a sliver of land, truly an island, off the eastern coast of Tamil Nadu that nearly touches Sri Lanka. I've had some interesting travel companions in India, and for this excursion I was traveling with Carla, a 50-something from Atlanta who is finally getting her traveling yen satisfied after ending a 30 year marriage. She definitely had the right temperament to travel with me, as she was willing to improvise jump on rattling buses, sleep on second class sleeper trains and generally take things as they come, unexpectedly, and keep a good sense of perspective and humour about the craziness of India. We arrived in Madurai at 11 PM at night after a 6 hour train from Madurai, and managed to secure a clean hotel there for the night, no small feat for Madurai, which has some of the grungiest rooms I've ever seen. The next morning we got on a banged up public bus heading to Rameswarem(55 Rs) and 4 hour later pulled into town.
I loved every second of of our 4 days there. The Tamil cheer seems unrelenting. I remember walking down 4 flights of stairs and on every floor there was someone with a1000 megawatt smile for me. While riding a public bus, a chai seller on the corner smiled at me sitting on the bus and motioned to ask if i wanted a chai, a total impossibilty but funny. Everyone there just seemed to be buoyant. We took a bus 20 km out through small thatch hut villages yards from the sea to view land's end, and ended up riding in a truck with 6 guys from Delhi, including 1 rotund man who was described as a bodyguard, would rear his head back for some of the deepest guffaws I've heard, and insisted lolling on the tail of the truck rather than sitting down.
The ocean itself is beautiful, the water crystal clear, which is surprising as the Tamil coastline seems to have water that is suited for fishing more than swimming.
The other big thing to do in Rameswarem is get bathed at the temple. There are a series of wells that have water from 22 different places in India, and pilgrims from all over India come to be doused. Men with little buckets will take you from well to well(10Rs-100Rs) which Carla did one day and I did the next. It is kind of fun running around the temple sopping wet amongst swarms of black skirted pilgrims wearing prayer beads. The last water that is poured over your head is water from the Ganges, and you are given a bit to sip from your cupped hands as well. I drank, though I pray the source was closer to the Himalayas than Uttar Pradesh. I'm okay so far.
After a few days of snapping photos, eating great food, and enjoying the fresh night breeze blowing in from the Bay of Bengal, we decided to head to a place I knew very little about, Tiruvanamalai, fatrher north in Tamil Nadu. I did know that there is a mountain around which on full moon people walk around to get 7 years good karma (there are mathematical components to all this, evidently) and it just so happened that we arrived a day before the full moon. From the peace and quaintness of Rameswarem we were thrown into "Full power" India, as the Israeli youth around here might say. We stayed in the town proper the first night, which is ugly, screeching, rundown, jarring and full of beggars. It seems Westerners head here to make a guru connection, drawn in part by the Sri Ramana ashram, founded by a man who lived in a cave on the mountain for 20 years and then came down and founded the ashram. Near the ashram is where the Westerners are, and trying to get lodging here is nigh impossible so Carla and I ended up staying 4 km out in the country. Come full moon evening, we set off on our karma acquiring perambulation, 14km total, the roads crammed with people who are not walking at one place, as in a race, but are at all points around the mountain. Seeing the moon just over the mountain was worth the walk, as it reminded me of some of the work of Ansel Adams in Yosemite. There are food stalls and vendors and begging sadhus and women husking corn and mini-temples every other step of the walk, so it made it easy to do in that you basically put one foot in front of the other and don't have to worry about dragging water or anything else with you. Beyond the walk, there doesn't seem to be that much to do here if you are not staying at an ashram or involved in some course. The one moment of excitement was moving back to the periphery of the ashram after Carla left a few days ago to renew her Indian visa in Sri Lanka,. I tried to get lodging, and ended up with a 1-eyed psychopathic man in a skirt who tried shaking me down for more money after telling me that I'd have to sleep in the living room of the guesthouse of a cot. After seeing I wasn't a milquetoast, he found a room for me and promptly set about trying to get money from an older guru-seeking Kiwi, who did fork over the cash and slept on a cot in the living room. The shortage of beds here really makes people tolerate some strange things. I've been hanging out here trying to suss out anything of interest and reading (Atonement, Ian McEwan, pick it up if you haven't, incredible), and other than a few breezy mentions of morning lectures by gurus, nothing seems to be resonating. I'm due back in Madurai in a week to meet a friend of a friend, Julie, who's traveling in India for a spell, so I find myself in a killing time mode. I'm going to head out to a small village 30 km from here called Gingee, and then most likely go to India's #1 pilgrimage temple, a place called Tirupathy, which sounds reasonably crazy as I've heard 10,000 people have to sleep in the same room before getting a 2 second glance at a sacred idol.
In an aside, I've asked a constant reader of this blog and work-beleaguered friend of mine, Charlie, to buy a ticket to Burning Man festival this year. I've been 1 time before, in 2003, and it was an amazing experience. If anyone out there thinks they can get there this year, go, go, go with me. You'll never regret it and we can work out logistics together. I'm already getting giddy at the prospect of seeing Black Rock City rise from the desert, and I've got a few more mind blowing adventures on my platter before then. It's easier to get it together than you might imagine.

Embraceable Kerala

Has it really been since mid-December since I last posted an entry? It's easy to see how one can lose oneself when time's passage is not as noticeable. Well, I'll try to make some very abridged sense of what has been afoot in India since then.
With the holiday seasonfast approaching, it was off for another go at Sivinanda ashram in Southern Kerala. I had several reasons for going there ; Keep the yoga practice alive, be around people I had more than a passing acquaintance with over Christmas, and compare the ashram to to one I went to in Madurai. All three goals were accomplished; I met scores of people from all over the world, was able to hold postures steadier and deeper than before, and realized how fortunate I was to go to the Ashram in Madurai at first, as it is much less busy and there is a prevailing sense of calm and tranquility that can be elusive amid the hustle in Kerala. I also met a fellow blogger there who covered the experience quite succinctly. Below is a shot of one of the morning walks, which happened twice during my stay.

One of the most difficult parts of staying at the ashram was knowing that I was a mere hour away from a beautiful tropical beach paradise. After 11 days, I caught a cab with some other ashram refugees to go soak up some sun and splash in the surf at Varkala, the aforementioned paradise. Varkala is part of my history. I first landed there nearly 2 years ago and have very warm memories of my times there, in most part because of several crazy friends who go by the names Yael, Marco and Effie, so going back there with an entirely different set of people did feel odd. We left the day after Christmas, and upon arrival were hit with high rents for India, though through some determined bargaining and a bit of footwork were able to find two breezy, reasonably priced rooms. The next week+ leading u[p to New Years was a non-stop blur of eating fish, drinking espresso and lazing on one beach or another between bobbing in the surf. Varkala has done a good job of not spiralling into full-blown tourist ugliness while unabashedly becoming a tourist hot-spot and stop over for anyone visting Kerala. The beaches are bereft of sellers of any sort, as all the shops and restaurants are located on top of a sheer cliff that overlooks the beaches. The one small annoyance that became a major pain the longer I stayed was the long wait at all the restaurants. A 2 hour wait seemed the norm at most of these places, and all the restaurants are tourist restaurants, so on top of inflated prices, you can spend a good chunk of your time in Varkala waiting for your lunch or dinner. Perhaps I should have updated my blog while aiting for my barracuda at Tratorria. New Years itself was spent on the darkened beach with a bunch of people from the ashram, and after that we climbed cliffside to mingle with the revelers of the bars. Varkala has a strange rule about serving alcohol discreetly and all bars closing at a certain hour, and as 2am rolled around I could see why. Several table smashing tussles broke out between Indian guys as I walked back, and several of the girls from the ashram were groped on the walk back. One of the girls, Stacey, who has a very low threshold for this behavior, punched the guy who grabbed her in the nose, and held him over the edge of the cliff until her rage subsided! "Eve teasing" is the term given to men grabbing women in India. I've been with girls ho've been grabbed, and my reaction was similar to Stacey's, to unequivacally express that behavior like that won't fly. Usually by means of a shove and an ardent "No" in Hindi. I'm not justifying dangling some sexually frustrated, hormone wracked 18 year old boy over the edge of a cliff to ring in the New Year, I'm just saying I can kind of relate.
Next stop was the ashram of the "Hugging Guru" or Amma, which is almost required for anyone staying in Varkala. A 1 hour train ride, followed by a 30 minute rickshaw ride and we were there. The setting of the ashram is gorgeous; it's situated on the banks of the Kerala backwaters, interconnected waterways that are graced by armies of coconut trees from every direction, and a stone's throw from the Arabian Sea. Amma is a record setter, as she has hugged nearly 30 million people, and travels quite frequently on hugging junkets. When we heard she was in town, we had to get our hug, if not least for me to judge what one reknowned hugger( so I've been told) can learn from another.The 1st sight of the ashram is unusual, a number of Soviet-bloc style pink! buildings rising out of he jungle. Amma devotees are evrywhere, notable for their white robes, 1000 yard stare, and potpourri of nationalities. Ambient noise is everywhere. It's quite easy to stay there, as anyone can pull up and have a dorm to flop down in for 150 Rupees. After getting set up in my dorm full of 50 year old Russian men lounging in Speedos, I got in line to hug. I couldn't help but notice some behavior that would be viewed as strange in different settings. For example, a number of her devotees have dolls of Amma, and watching 60-somethings cooing over a doll was a bit odd. After a relatively quick 30 minutes in line, I was in the scrum on stage close to Amma, and her handlers told me to get on my knees, as this is the usual hug reciever position. She is surrounded by rapt devotees basking in her energy, and the crush of people is a bit disconcerting. There was an Asian man filming her hugging behind her and another devotee massaging her shoulders to keep her limber for the hug hungry masses. Someone else later told me there is a hug clicker that keeps a running tally of all the hugs. Before I knew it, I was temple to bosom with a 50-something year old Keralan woman who was whispering something in my ear. I thought the hug was over, was moving in my patented reverse kneel crawl, when suddenly Amma pulled me back in for another hug and whisper. I'm not certain if I ended the first hug too quickly or if she ascertained that I was in need of another one, but then suddenly I was pulled away and she was swarmed by someone else. As a certain doe-eyed Brit might say, "Scratch it off, Harry."

A Reunion in the Mountains

I'm headed back to Sivananda ashram in January, so I'll just finish off from last post by saying I emerged from 2 straight weeks of it walking taller, able to touch my toes, pain in my palms that felt as if I had a stigmata from strengthening my wrist and every intention of continuing to "strike poses" on my own. The last part has been a wash, though I truly had such intentions to continue on your own. Ah well, I've got lots more time here.
I've been staying away from places I've been to my 1st epic trip here in India, and as I'd missed going to any hill stations before, I thought it was time to break out my hiking boots and head to the mountains. Hill stations are towns that sprang up in places with high elevation during the Raj rule to afford the Brits stationed here relief from the sweltering heat that hits India around May. I have a sweaty love affair with mountains and hiking, and try to head to them wherever I am ASAP, so the small hill station of Kodaikanal seemed an ideal place to head to. The ride there was awe inspiring, as the public bus snaked up winding roads that run up the Southern mountainous region, or ghats. Lush vineyards, roadside stops where women sell mountains of fruit, dizzying views f valleys below: the change from flat, red dirt carpeted Tamil Nadu was profound.
Kodai town itself is more of a collection of so-so hotels geared for newlywed Indians, and after staying there 1 night I hopped in one of the ubiquitous white taxi vans (100 Rs) and headed to Vattakanal. Vatta is little more than a small collection of houses perched on the side of a valley, really not even a village proper. Families living up small, unmarked dirt paths have rooms they let out(100-150 Rs), as there is no proper hotel or stores here. The allure of Vatta can be put down to several things: fireplaces en suite, scenery, psychedelic mushrooms growing wild, and avocado and omelette sandwiches at Dipa & Johnny's New Canaan Shop. This place is severely chilled out, and Israelis doin India pull in here and stay for a while, and being able to have a very nice house of your own with fresh firewood (100Rs a bundle) without any India hassle makes Vatta a place unlike any other I've stayed at in India. Vatta is a reprieve from the hassle, hustle, grime.
Maps. I appreciate maps, love the security of having a map, particularly in an area that begs to be hiked. They simply do not exist in India's trekking areas outside of the Himalayas. I searched everywhere in kodai for a map. Zilch. The area around it so stunning it seems a shame not to be able to hike around, so even without map I set out for a place called Perumal peak, supposedly a great place to get 360 view. Perumal is a village 12 km from Kodai, and I took a state bus(5Rs) to the stopping junction. The village itself is foul and scruffy, and after walking the main road for a while wondering how to get to this peak, an old man pointed me down an unmarked track road that had a barrier across it to prevent motorized vehicles. The start of the road had more feces droppings than I've ever seen, and I think it has become the designated poo area for the village, but once I started walking it was nice enough, but once I reached a stretch of farmland about 45 minutes in I couldn't make out any clear continuation of the path, so I turned around. I realized then that you can't hike on your own in India, as this place that is supposedly a main tourist spot had absolutely no markings and without any map, you simply can't do it. Which I feel is a shame, as I've done independent trekking in Nepal, Oregon, Austria and Poland which I harbor such great memories of.
Walking down the mountain, I spotted a gate that was inscribed Bodhi Zendo meditation center. I googled it back in town, and the next day walked up to check out the scene. This place is one of the best kept secrets in India. I would have trouble believing it myself if I hadn't been there. The setting is incredible, the center itself is incredible ( the library will make your jaw drop), and the to stay there cost all of 200Rs to 250Rs, for everything! It turned out that a seshiin was starting the day I arrived, and not knowing what that was it seemed like a good idea to join. I retrieved my bag, taxied it back to Zendo, and suddenly I'm in the middle of a 3 days of silence, 6 hours of meditation daily, retreat. I'll say for the record it was much easier than I thought initially. Not communicating with others, even avoiding eye contact, is actually a treat for a time. And the meditation itself was made easier by having all sorts of pillows to avoid having to shift during the 25 minutes of continuous meditation. I had a breakthrough of sorts there, as I've always squirmed and struggles with any meditative practice. I think the prospect of having to meditate a lot opened me up to working on clearing my mind rather than entertaining myself with hashing out plans and loopy fantasies, which everybody resorts to at first with meditation. Father Samy, a Jesuit priest in his 70's, is the only certified Zen master in India, and he is the founder of this place, which does not espouse any religion per se. Being a Zen master, I could not casually sidle up to him and discuss my usual sack of trivialities, but he seemed to be a very kind, wise man from what I saw of him during lectures and as he led meditation sessions. It was tough to leave after 4 days, but I felt it was time to head back to Vatta and see if 2 kooky acquaintances had arrived.
Tom & Amy also taught ESL in Korea while I was there, and are friends with a certain burnished haired Brit I'm fond of. We never had that much of a chance to hang together in Korea, as I lived in Gotham and they lived in Pleasantville, but they decided to do the smart thing post-Korea, mid-global economic meltdown ( does anyone evr take my advice other than my dear friend Charlie, who I went to HS with, traveled in Europe for a too-brief spell, and is now sending mates of his over to meet me in India) and travel in India for 6 months. Arriving back in Vatta, word on the street was they were around, everyone but everyone had seen them over the last 3 days (Tom is very tall, Amy is very silly!) but no one knew where they were staying. Rain commenced and I was about to give up all hope when I went intoKodai for breakfast and a German friend sptted Tom lurching down the street in a yellow mac. Joyous reunion ensued, as they had been 30 minutes from catching a bus out of the mountains, and for the next week I had a great time getting to know them both, listening to Tom strum his ukelele while Amy clarineted, playing crossword puzzles, sitting around the fire as sheets of rain poured down a couple of nights, and talking about friends and life. And eating lots of avocado sandwiches and pineapple and even shakshuka, an Israeli omelette Amy whipped up in our kitchen. We said goodbye yesterday, and they are headed north while i'm headed back to Sivananda Ashrom near Tivandrum in the far south of Kerala state. Incidentally, Amy had been there, and her account was quite disturbing. Since so many people are going to this place, quasi-militaristic rules have been erected, such as signing in for everything and limited access to the beautiful lake that was my sunbathing spot of choice 2 years ago. I'm catching a train in 3 hours for there, so i'll tell you how it is. As I've noted, my stay at Sivananda ashram Madurai was wonderful, peaceful, and I'm going back in mid-January, though not many people go to it because this other pplace gets all the press because it's in heavily touristed Kerala state. Speaking of press, I happened upon this article yesterday. Maybe seeking out this respites has something to do with being in your 30's and a former disaffected literati. In my own simpleton way, of course.
Someday there will be pics up. I need to find a speedy internet connection first, which will probably happen after New Year. It'll be strange being in an ashram in the southernmost part of tropical India, chanting, meditating and eating choice vegetable meals with my fingers from a stainless steel plate, but it will be good. I wish I could be with all of you(Texas, DC,UK, ROK, you know who you are, but i'm in the right place for me right now. We'll bump into each other before too long. I've got a good feeling bout that. Merry New Years from Ben.

All is well

I'm glad I finally started this blogging, as a quick read over the last entry makes me realize how many details can slip by so quickly and be forgotten. Well, I had lots of emails asking if I was ok following the Mumbai attack, and I can tell you that I definitely am unscathed. I wasn't even aware of what was happening until a few days later, as I was ensconced in the Tamil countryside at Sivananda Ashram studying yoga.

My first experience going to a Sivanada ahram was a few years back, at the wildly popular location in the south of Kerala that it seems everybody traveling in India ends up at one point or another. I had a memorable experience there, and it shifted my stereotypical view of an ashram from that of a place of dodgy gurus, flaky folk and general New Agey, California psychobabble places to that of a place where one could rigorously focus on mental, spiritual and physical development in a conducive environment. So, fast forward to now, my experience this time around was just as great, if not better. A lot fewer people stop by this ashram which creates a much more relaxed environment. In fact, there were only 2 other people who started off my program with myself, compared with about 45 before. The idea is to introduce people, both Westerners and Indians, to the principles of a yogic life and give them a chance to live them out for a while, which is no easy feat. In a general sense, meditation and chanting twice a day, asana yoga (the physical part) twice a day, and lectures on a yogic lifestyle are all de rigeur.

I'm going to have to cut this short, though I have so much more to tell, as I'm facing an hour walk back to my bed deep in the mountains of Vattakanal and the sun is sinking low. I'm, hoping to get some trekking in in the next few days, though finding a map of this area seems to be nigh impossible. I'll see where the next chapter of India takes me...

A few appreciations for India...

India surprises. It really does. Take, for instance, the new law aimed at kerbing smoking that I made brief reference too in my 1st blog entry. Basically, the law is the most sweeping of its kind outside of Bhutan, which forbids even the sale of tobacco. No smoking in any workplace, including bars and cafes, and no smoking in public, which makes being a smoker highly annoying. when I heard about this new law, I was curious to see what effect it would have. Well, word on the ground from locals is that the law is not a joke, and it attacks smoking in the most effective way, by creating a stigma around it. There are still easy ways to flaunt the law, such a standing next to the small street stalls that sell ciggies and paan(tabbaco wrapped in betel leaf) but you can tell the there is a big shift in the way smoking is accepted. I'm acutely interested in it, because as a former smoker and nicotine addict, it's nice to see a developing country change for the better in ways that lots of western countries lag behind. Plus, it keeps me from wanting to take up the habit again, as it would be such a pain in the as to find a secret place to smoke by myself. Stigmatizing it works!
I'm in the temple town of Madurai now, located in the southern part of the state of Tamil Nadu. True to form, I've been everywhere but the main site, an enormous temple complex that draws up to 10,000 pilgrims daily. The town itself is not so terribly interesting, after having been through so many other Indian cities, but it is a nice place for me to pass a few days while waiting to start my yoga retreat about 15 km from the city. Madurai itself has a scruffy, worn feel to it, and the hotels here bear that out. The rule of thumb in India is that the larger the city, the drearier the lodgings. I ended up in a halfway clean place the 1st night here, but around 9 PM a foul odor starting rising from the alleyway that was flush with my room, probably from the sewage pipes that were snaking everywhere and could use a dab of sealant or a washer or two. Small missions can take up vast amounts of time here,and the next days mission was to find a better place. Easier said than done. All the places I checked out were in varying states of decrepitude and mildew growth, and I was seriously considering hitting up the luxury hotel circuit and throwing down $20, when i chanced one last spot, the "Hotel International" and found a pleasant airy room on the 4th floor, complete with cable, western toilet, very clean and comfy, all to the tune of $4 (Room #408). Landing a nice bed changed the complexion of my stay here, and I've been puttering around drinking fresh juice, taking pics and going to a couple of yoga classes at night. There are not many non-Indians floating about, and I haven't spoken with one since I left Pondicherry 5 days past. Which suits me fine for now, as I've had a greater chance to get to know a lot of the Indains here in Madurai. Let me say how glad I am to be in a country the favours the UK english to the US english, as was the case in Korea. From my vantage point, the subtle humor and painstaking politeness and nuance of imperial English is much more amusing. In India, you will run into men of a certain age who, though weathered, clad in a dirty dress (dhoti), and missing a few teeth, will spout out phrases you could see a master at Eton saying. A few nights ago, I was catching a city bus back from a dusty suburb of Madurai to the city center, and the man I just described came up to me and asked if I "required any guidance". I told him no, and we struck up small talk, he asking me what "province I hailed from" and in response to something about Bush, said "the less said, the better"! Oh, the propriety of the empire. Some of the people here just seem like relics of the Raj era by the enunciation and word choice. They're better equipped to speak passable isle English better than I, with my funny non-traceable, garbled, high-pitched whinge.
In general, I have to express the friendliness and and good humour of people in India. Really, a head wobble or cracking a smile will almost always be reciprocated and can defuse any potential misunderstanding, and there is always a solution to any problem you encounter here,and always someone who will go to extraordinary lengths to solve it. Once you are able to take the chaos of traffic and grime in stride, as Indians do, there is such a generous soul to this place and its people .
One last thing before I go. The legendary trains of India. For those of you who have not had the pleasure of boarding one, allow me a moment to extol the virtues of India rail. I had my first train journey this trip a few days ago, and getting back on board left me amazed at what a singular joy riding the rails in India is. The trains are a microcosm of India society at large, though with the advent of domestic air the very posh classes are sitting their powdered bottoms down on Jet Air rather than 1st class AC Rajput Express Jaipur to Bombay. The trains are marvels of ingenuity, cheap as chips, and a great way to watch all of India pass before your eyes. I always travel sleeper, non-AC, 2nd class, which gives you a padded cot to call your own, a breezy barred window (to prevent dacoits, or thieves, from reaching in and plucking your goods out at stops) and an Indian family across from you to speak to at intervals. Not to mention the tea sellers, food sellers, chain sellers, beggars, sweepers, dubious policemen, and other assorted folks that brush past you down the train. It is also a great way to see the Indian countryside pass before your eyes as you sit at the doors at the end of each car, legs dangling over the side, watching brightly sari-clad women heave jugs of water around on their hips and turbaned pruney men bicycle amongst coconut groves.
The internet appears to be on its last legs here, so I'm going t sign off for now. Next blog i'll tell you the inside story of life on the inside of a yoga ashram. Jai guruuuuu deja

A week of superlatives

It's all still here, the jasmine-scented air, the sun-baked red earth, the delightful melange of spices in food that can be bought for a song, the tugs at your elbow accompannied by "coin money". I'm back in India, and I did kiss the ground for you, Yael and Effie!
My flight over went very smoothly. I had a great send off at the Incheon airport in Seoul, having breakfast with a friend who was also flying out that day and taking advantage of the free internet cafes to get in a belated skype call to another mischievious friend. My 3 hour layover at the Kuala Lumpur airport in Malaysia was a revelation. It is truly the nicest airport I've been in. Reclining chairs! Penang curry soup! NFL games on TV! Landing in Chennai, I had to convince the immigration officials that it was really me on my passport, as I've porked up a bit during my sedentary year in Seoul, but after posing for 3 of them they gave me the head wobble and off I went into the Indian night.
I had arranged to to stay someone I had met on couchsurfing.com. For those of you not in the know, couchsurfing is a way of staying with people, or letting people stay with you, for free! This was the first time I'd stayed with anyone else, though I have had several couchsurfers stay at my place in Seoul over the last couple of months. What an amazing concept, and I must say my landing in India was so much softer than my first time here because of it. My couchsurfing friend is Avi, a 30-something Chennai native who, I can't emphasize enough, got my journey here off to a great start. I spent 2 leisurely days wandering around Chennai, reaquainting myself with South Indian food, and trying to chart out places worth checking out in the state of Tamil Nadu. Chennai struck me as the most hassle free big city in India, such a departure from my first Indian city I'd ever experienced, Varanasi, which had left me reeling and gasping and befuddled and puzzled. Big cities are such difficult places to get to know on your own in any case, and unless you have a tremendous reservoir of energy, you'lll never get to deeper than the surface without the help of someone who's lived there for some time, so couchsurfing really really put me at an advantage most people don't have going into India.
Mamallapuram, a small beachside town that is very backpacker friendly, was next on the agenda, and a couple of bus rides later I was in my nicely appointed 4$ a night hotel thinjing this is all too easy! I quickly got down to the business at hand, which was ambling along the beach and buying cups of chai from the roving beach chai wallah, trying out as many foods as I could, and plowing through some of the books I'd dragged with me. About the South Indian food; in the US most Indian food is from the north, so it takes some time to become comfortable with ordering it. It is all served on a palm leaf, and the general idea is you get something breadlike to soak up something sauce-like. So far I've had idli, ottapam, parotta and vada. Can anyone out there tell me what poori is? I see it everywhere on the menus but have yet to order it. I also had several ayurvedic massages(6$) while there. This is an experience you'd be hard pressed to have in lots of places. You strip off your clothes (knickers too) and lay face down on a marble slab of a table while a man rubs ayurvedic oils all over you. You can wear a tiny loin cloth, but the point seems moot after you've had one massage. I had 3 from a pleasant guy named Winston who is from the state of Kerala and is studying the ayurvedic arts there and working in Tamil Nadu in his off time. He actually did a great job, more massaging than just slathering oil everywhere, and I didn't nearly slide off the the marble table as I had during my first massage a year ago.
While there, like the rest of the world, I was able to witness Barack's victory. At 11 am Wednesday morning, I was crowded into an internet shoppe, watching live coverage of the official word the he is #44! Everyone broke out in cheers, fireworks were set off, and more than a few people were dabbing their eyes, myself included. The feeling in the air, in at this remote place, was that a powerful historic cause for hope and positive change had begun.
I set off for Pondicherry, and on the bus met an Israeli girl heading to Auroville, so followed her there. Auroville is an intentional community of people from all over the world who move permanently and work to create a community of peace. I'd always been curious to see this place and thought this would be as good of a chance as any. The first impression you get is that Aurovile is big. You can't "see" Auroville, it is a community of tracts of land spread out over 1000's of acres. However, we went to the main info center, and Koram, the Israeli, got on the phone with someone she had a contact with, and a rickshaw drive later we were at the home of one of the Aurovillian families. Their place is along a stretch of the coast, and it's hard to put into words what a sedate, peaceful place they've built up for themselves on their land. I stayed in my own house, a hobbit-like cottage made of thatched hut roof, and got to know the family a bit in between rousing myelf to get down to the beach, which was essentially like having a private beach with great swimming, a rarity in India. The family is originally from Israel and the Netherlands, and they moved to Auroville 22 years ago and have lived there since. I didn't get into all the details of what they do, though the idea behind Aurovilee is to maintain self sufficiency, but I can say they were very hospitable and welcoming, and seemed very down to earth, not some sort of fringe utopian, off-their-rocker survivalist type you might expect. After a few very tranquil days shooting the shit with Koram and generally lazing, I packed it up to Pondicherry and have been here the last couple of days. Pondicherry is a former French colony and the city itself has been spruced up a bit for middle class Indians and Westerners seeking a break from rugged India. It's been nice to walk down very un-Indian wide avenues and admire the colonial homesteads, and eat some deliciously wicked food. I'm still getting used to how cheap the food is. I went to eat at a restaurant in a hotel last night and had and all u can eat veg meal, followed up with a yummy banana split, and the total was $1. Incredible. Well, I should be making my way south in an hour or 2. I'm due at a yoga ashram on the 15th of this month, which I've been looking forward to for a long time. Before that I'll be in the temple town of Madurai, which sounds a bit mad, which will be a nice change from my mellow India thus far. A boymust have his hair-raising adventures!

Charmed Life

The long awaited day has finally arrived, and I'm feeling less exultant than I would have imagined 5 months ago. My tour of duty as an ESL teacher in Korea officially ended yesterday, and I'm spending my last full day puttering around the USO station in central Seoul.
I've been meaning to embrace the blog life for some measure of time now, and seeing as how adventure is beaaring down hard on me this seems to be the right time. I'll be in the south of India tomorrow night, Chennai to be exact. What awaits me in the technicolor, pullating subcontinent? I wouldn't be able to hazard a guess, other than it will be hard to explain once outside of India.
Leaving Korea has me feeling a bit of wist, kim-chi serving sized wist, certainly not enough to leave me feeling full though. I've met lots of other great migrant workers here, from my co-workers Loren & Aerin to the guys and gals at the ILC Sunday meetups to friendly Koreans of all stripes. My job here was EASY, and I leave with a pocketful of do-re-mi, but the real burden for me was adjusting to a lifestyle which at turns can be isolating, uninspiring and drab. Having said that, coming to Korea allowed me to experience life in an Asian metropolis, a weeklong vacation in China pre-Olympics, borrowed time with a certain lass with burnished gold hair who holds the key to my heart and now, now, happening in a day!!! an open-ended trip to India. In my tenure here, I learned to feel at greater peace with myself and less anxious about the future and the pressures of the future than I ever have before. Plus I'm a non-smoker!
Well, I'll try to keep this blog active once I hit the ground in India. I'll let you know how the far-reaching smoking ban is working there.