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It was while leaning out an open door of a speeding (rare by Indian
standards) train as it crossed a gorge high above a peaceful river
that I realised the potential of letting go scared me far more than
the fear of accidentally falling. This was not a premeditated suicide
that I was contemplating (my love of life and aversion to pain are
far too great for that), but a spontaneous act. If I could think of
doing it, it was conceivable that I could do it. That's what frightened
me. At the same time, the ability to do (or at least attempt) whatever
I can conceive is a fundamental component in my love of life. Nowhere
is this more evident than travelling.
Our conception of travelling changed dramatically with the introduction
of leeches to our Nilambe meditation retreat. Sri Lanka no longer
seemed the place to be so we packed up our tranquil minds and began
a 4-week period in which we seldom stayed in one place long enough
to decorate our room with Tibetan prayer flags. Despite our established
preference for pausing at each destination, we elected to hit the
fast forward button instead. As if driven by a demonic tour guide
on speed, we were able to cheque off destinations like items on a
grocery list. However, much was lost in the accelerated pace (like
someone else ate the groceries).
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Our first stop was Dellhouse. After eight hours on three separate
busses the peace of Nilambe was a distant memory, but we were at the
base of Adams Peak. This sacred peak is a pilgrimage destination for
Christians, Budhists and Hindus. Many Sri Lankans consider viewing
the sunrise from Adam's Peak the spiritual highlight of their life.
We took a slightly less reverent view and chose to skip it when our
3 am alarm was accompanied by pounding rain. We gave some thought
to staying another day, but were less than thrilled by the tourist
trap town. Perhaps our sole purpose there was to talk with the friendly
owner of our guesthouse. He spoke with such intensity of his mother's
warmth, love and compassion that I felt some of it in him and commented
"the fruit doesn't fall far from the tree." Only then did he tell
us how his father was a tyrannical brute who beat his mother and eventually
drove her to suicide.
FF >> hill country >> beach >> Sri Lankan New Year >>
Back in Columbo, we enjoyed what the Dali Lama refers to as contaminated
satisfaction (short-lived material pleasures). Our diet deteriorated
to Pizza Hut, McDonalds and KFC. We spent most of our time in an air-conditioned
mall doing e-mail and shopping. We rationalized that since we were
enduring the hardships of rapid travel and were on the verge of returning
to India, we deserved these "rewards". Anyone who is afraid that our
experiences have altered us beyond recognition can take comfort knowing
that our western ways are never far from the surface. Effectively
during this month-long period, we abandoned the good habits we had
established for our minds, bodies and spirits. We were not without
insights however, we recognised the need for healthier "rewards".
FF >> flight to Trevendrum (southern tip of India) >> train to Varcala
(one night on the ocean cliffs) >> morning train to Kollum (snuck
into first class because we had no seats, stayed on beyond our stop
because we realized we bought the wrong ticket) >>
It was mid-afternoon when we arrived at Amma's ashram in the backwaters
of Kerala. Though it had been described to me earlier, I could not
help thinking that Amma's is to ashrams what Disneyland is to playgrounds.
It was not gaudy in an ornate way, just huge in a multiple 12-story
dormitories way. It was also empty in "the main attraction is closed"
sort of way. That Amma (an avatar believed by many to be more god
than human) was away dedicating a new temple was only a temporary
setback in what could easily be interpreted as her guiding us to her.
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We finally made it to the temple around sunset. After a period of
chanting, singing and praying (none of which we understood), we ran
into our friend Ray (also from Nilambe) who led us to the front of
the line for Darshan (the hugs that Amma is famous for). As westerners
and hug-virgins we were able to avoid hours (4-5) of waiting for the
hug that had changed so many lives. We barely had time to wipe our
faces with the tissue (TP) provided, before we were in front of her.
She looked at us as we approached (having heard that she likes to
hug couples together), but she said "One at a time". I deferred to
Carrie (women first), but Amma's gesture indicated that she wanted
me first. I regret that I don't remember eye contact, but think my
attention was drawn to the mess of make-up, sweat and dirt on her
padded shoulder (didn't they use the TP?). Mine was a long hug during
which she chanted into my ear and then finally kissed my cheek. Then
it was Carrie's turn, but after a few seconds she opened her left
arm and beckoned me into the hug as well. At the end, she said "wow"
and invited us to join her followers sitting on stage.
We spent enough time sitting on stage to notice a jealousy on the
part of many followers towards anyone who was physically closer to
Amma than they were. Here I formed my opinion that these disciples
were addicted to her energy and attention and could not get enough.
I would surely offend many of them by saying that the hug was not
a life changing experience for me. It was certainly given with more
love than anyone I know could provide to one of thousands. Unfortunately,
the love seemed to be a one way flow. Amma gives love, everyone else
takes it. I noticed the same the following day at temple dedication.
Everyone wanted to be as close as possible to feel the energy. We
squeezed into a few spare inches on the dirt ground and awaited the
event.
Among the other attendees was a beautiful cow (made even more beautiful
with eyeliner) tied to a nearby post. Shortly after predicting the
event in my mind, the cow caused a flurry of activity as it did what
cows do. When the crowd stood and re-shuffled upon Amma's entrance
into the temple (musical mob), we ended up even closer to the temple
and had the mixed blessing of the cow pie behind us. Though I had
to be careful not to go back into it, at least there was not a sweaty
body pressed against me from that direction. In all, I felt lucky
for my space. I did not feel anticipated the rush of energy when the
temple doors were flung open. Perhaps my share was captured by those
who had fought their were closer and no doubt appreciated it more.
FF >> 12 hour train to Goa >> dive motel in Margao >> purchased hard
to get train tickets to Delhi, via Bombay (now we were on a schedule)
>>
Surgical precision is not a common phrase to describe travelling
in India. None the less, we convinced ourselves that we could squeeze
in a trip to the highly recommended ruins of Hampi. Perhaps our judgement
was impaired by our recent successes in getting where we wanted without
significant discomfort (or maybe I secretly wanted a new travel nightmare
to write about). So we bought tickets for a rather expensive "Express
Luxury Sleeper-bus to Hampi. Our plan was to arrive early the next
morning (well rested) and have two full days to see the sites before
returning on another sleeper bus two nights later (the idiocy of this
plan is so evident when viewed in writing).
After a nice late lunch, we were at our bus stand at 4PM. We waited
30 minutes then took a transfer bus to Panaji (an hour and a half
in the wrong direction). After waiting another hour under a bridge,
we took yet another bus to the office (after a security guard suggested
to a representative of our tour company that being the only foreigners
under a bridge at night might not be the best place for us). When
we got to the office, we got to wait some more. It was about 8:30
when we climbed into our rolling bunk-box (effectively a double coffin
with a window and a sliding side door to the isle). It wasn't my idea
of "luxury", but it actually was not too bad once we turned the mattress
around (don't ask what was under the mattress) so our feet (not our
heads) smashed into the end of our box with each sudden stop. Everything
went as expected until we reached Hubli about 2:00AM and were told
to get out and wait on the sidewalk for another bus that would be
there in 15 minutes. During our three-hour wait on the sidewalk we
had plenty of time to contemplate our situation. Since we were not
yet half way to our destination, we were not going to arrive "early"
or "well rested". After (at most) one full day in Hampi, we would
be at the mercy of the same tour company (the only one running busses
off-season) to make it back in time for our train.
We decided to cut our losses. The representative who was left to
wait with us promised that our bus would be arriving soon (as it was
scheduled to despite the 15-minute promise that got us off the other
bus). I informed him that "ours" was the next West Coast Travel bus
going back to Goa, and asked when that would be. Shortly after being
assured that there were no busses going back to Goa, we saw a West
Coast Travel bus pull in across the street. When we showed the confused
attendant our ticket, he pointed back from whence we came. Unable
to convince us to continue our itinerary, he informed me that his
bus was not going to Goa. But oddly, the passengers on the bus (who
were watching from their coffin windows) had the funny notion that
they were going to Goa. The attendant wisely stepped aside as we pushed
our way on, grabbed a couple of empty top-coffin bunks and went back
to Goa. Upon arrival, we refused to get off under the bridge and demanded
to be taken back to the office. Amazingly, the bus again went where
the attendant said it would not go. At the office, we waited another
hour for the mythical manager (who never showed), but finally convinced
the people there that tired, hungry, angry customers (who had nowhere
else to go) were not making their lives any easier and were probably
not good "references" to other potential customers. With a refund
in our pockets (and more surprisingly an apology), we found a place
to stay on the beach just 25 hours after leaving.
FF >> 2 nice days at Anjuna Beach >> 12 hour train to Bombay >> expensive dive hotel (the best way to find a bad hotel is arrive in an unfamiliar city late at night) >> woke and "upgraded" hotels to the Salvation Army Hostel >> contaminated satisfaction Bombay style (English movies!!) >> overnight train to Delhi >> learned that 45 Celsius was about 113 Fahrenheit (and not comfortable) >> overnight bus to Dharamsala (actually McLeodGanj) where our odyssey finally returned to a comfortable pause…
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