The "a" at the End of Karma

A brief update on my whereabouts and howabouts. And then, I promise, I'll get into the language/community/health stuff.

Trash everywhere, but I remember the smell: burning plastic, incense, and something sweet. Honks fading and exploding in every direction, sickness and desperation on every street corner taking the shape now of a child, now of a barely-clothed man, hands out- even grabbing you with their words of a language their own newspaper doesn't print in.

[I write in the present tense so that you can pretend that you're right there with me.]

I read the Hindustan Times on the plane from Munich to Delhi. There is an artile discussing the need to address the negative effects of globalisation.

Indian food is even good when it's been defiled into plane food.

I watch the sunrise over the Himalayan mountains from my window seat on the plane (an airbus, by the way- I'd never been in a plane with a downstairs before!) The mountains rise up over pure blackness, and I can see the dark side of the moon.

I file a missing luggage report with Lufthansa airlines (the best airline ever.) They assure me they will do their best to locate and deliver my baggage to me. (I'm not holding my breath)  Lufthansa gave me an "overnight bag" with toothpaste, toothbrush, a big white tshirt, nail file and laundry detergent (for the one shirt?)

(thanks Lufthansa Airlines)

I have one pair of underwear, that I've been wearing for four days. My sweatshirt smells like sweat. I suppose it's fitting.

In the car, a woman with a baby taps on the window like Six Flags Safari and makes gutteral noises, and I am told "If you look at them, they will only bother you more. Woah. Talk about invisibility of the Other.

Every street sign and advertisement is in English.

I am told that "everyone" speaks English. Why am I learning Hindi? Every time I ask how to say something in Hindi, I am told that it is better to use the English word ("please," "thank you," "sorry") but when I am left to my own devices to make my way around New Delhi, not many people understand me.

I learn how to count to 20. How to ask "Do you speak English?" and "How much does it cost?" (if it costs more than 20 ruppees, I don't know how much it costs.)

I go to the bazaar (market) and buy pants, a shirt, underwear. Haggling feels sad.

I am not being careful about what I eat. Or drink.

I buy a phone. There are pop-ups built in. A few: "Learn 5 English words a day! 5 ruppees! Click OK for more!" "Women are better at financial planning than men! Click OK to find out more!" "Get relationship advice! Click OK!"

I'm told that there is no "a" at the end of karma, darma, Gautama, or Buddha. Some white person must have just decided that those words weren't complete..?

Day 2 (Delhi)

I took the Delhi Metro (by myself) to two temples in the afternoon. I rode in the wrong direction for 2 stops before getting off and switching directions.

The sun sets behind a marble lotus the size of a circus tent but if you're one to think that prophets are clowns, then this isn't the place for you.

I am sitting watching the sun set behind the Lotus Temple, which is a Baha'i temple (I'll post about that later) and a small Indian girl is enamored by my whiteness, and even though many people have asked me if I'm half Indian, she wants to take a picture with me. I am not unfamiliar with this- it happened quite a lot with my sister 10 years ago, with her blue eyes and blonde hair and all. All of  a sudden 6 or 7 children are gathered around me and I am smiling at two cameras. They leave as quickly as they descended upon me. I move to sit somewhere else, and decide to process that later.

Belly ache. Maybe I shouldn't have drunk that water...

Sitting at the train station in Delhi, waiting for my train to Dehradun. I think I am going to fall asleep before my train comes. And then another train blows it's horn. No way am I falling asleep. I check my email. My baggage has been found and is being sent to Mussoorie!

In train: My life is beautiful. I have the top bunk of a sleeper car. Here's the view looking down from my bunk.

And I sleep like a baby.

I am awoken by a train worker banging on my bunk and yelling in Hindi. I am groggy. It is 6am. I put my shoes on, and walk out of the train in Dehradun and find a taxi to take me (over an hour's drive) to Mussoorie for about $16 usd.

We keep driving up, up, up, higher into the foothills of the Himalayas. Beauty. My life is beauty.

I have a great view of the mountains from my room.

I take a cold shower. None of my previous cold showers had prepared me for this. It's pretty cold up here in the hills, especially in the morning, and although my lips turned a bit purple, I easily adjust to the idea of very quick, short showers, and becomming efficient at cleaning myself in all the necessary places. I figure I will only shower every few days. The gentleman who works at the guest house (I've yet to learn his name) comes in and sees my wet hair, he says, "water!" I tell him that I'm all set. He is insistent and says, "No," walks over to my bathroom and points to a switch "push and wait 30 minutes," he says, "HOT WATER!"

It's 8am now. I have Hindi class at 10:30. I get some  masala chai, and am already thinking how much I will miss good masala chai when I leave India.

I get a call, while I am walking to class. My luggage has arrived. MY BOOKS!
If only bags could tell stories.

Om Mani Padme Hum

Traveling Light?

Well, I thought I had initially packed light, even considering that I would be gone for nearly 9 months, and would be traveling to varying climates, doing unpredictable things, I tried to pack an array of items while confining it all to my backpacking pack. I succeeded. My pack was stuffed, but had all my essentials and a few extras. Plus books. And sneakers.

But, it seems that the universe has other plans for me. Apparently I'm in for a lesson on attachment, and moderations. Aparigraha and brahmacharya. Yep, I'm not even in India yet, and the yogic lessons have sprung up on me, just to see if I'm up for this. We'll see...

After about 33 hours of chasing after my backpack from Sacramento (on the flight that I, myself, missed) to San Francisco, and then back and forth between the international terminal (with AirChina, the airline I was INITIALLY going to connect with, but I canceled those flights. By the way, my recommendation is to NEVER fly with AirChina if you can avoid it...) to the domestic baggage claim area for United. Back and forth and back and forth ALL DAY. Then they thought it was in Sacramento, then they thought AirChina had it, but they told me that United had to come get it. It was all very reminiscent of a fight between two seven-year olds. And I was the carrier pigeon. My feet hurt.
So, after all that he-said-she-said, I check in with my airline for my flight, and go through security with nothing but the clothes on my back, and my ipad in my purse. (and my wallet, and passport.. but that's pretty much it).

I am really only pining for my books and a few key toilettries. Other than that, I'm alright with buying a few bare essentials in Delhi when I arrive and living off of that for as long as I can. Although I regret wearing this dress for my flight. It would be nice to have a more practical starting point on my clean slate.

To be fair, they still have... 45 minutes to find it and get it on my plane and all will be well. But this certainly has been a trip- and I haven't even left the country yet.

Here's a poem from Brian Andreas, in his book "Traveling Light":

carries a lot of suitases
but all of them are empty
because she's expecting to completely fill them
with life by the end of this trip

& then she'll come home
& sort everything out
& do it all again

"Not Flexible Enough for Yoga"

Yoga (hatha, as is typically the only branch recognized in the States) is almost always portrayed as this glamourous, sexy, lean, bendy, white women's activity. Images on the cover of YogaJournal and the "yoga attire" associated with the "sport" at Lululemon and Old Navy all reinforce this standard. In almost any conversation I have with people, when yoga is mentioned, there is almost always a response regarding flexibility, and it's usually a self-deprecating statement, too: "Oh, I'm not flexible enough for yoga- I can't even touch my toes, I'd NEVER be able to do THAT!"

Well, as I begin this journey to foundations of understanding the health of the whole person, my first step is getting there- literally- getting on a plane. And even though I know they say that the first step is always the hardest, let me reiterate: plane schedules are not flexible!
Needless to say, even though I was at the airport 3 hours before my flight was to board, and even though I was sitting AT THE GATE, and even though I stood and checked my pack AT THE GATE, I, by some miracle, did NOT get on the plane. And while, at the time, I was able to maintain SOME of the composure us yogis are renowned for, after talking to a few United Airlines reps, and remembering that I no longer have a cell phone, or change for the payphone, and that I would soon miss all of my connecting flights and my pack was probably on it's way to Beijing, I lost it. I found a payphone that took a credit card (what a world we live in, eh?) and frantically dialed... my mother. And then the ticketing agency with whom I had booked. And then I waited. 5 HOURS. There were a number of moments when I thought, "maybe I just won't go to India- it's too complicated, I should just find a program at school, and deal with it..." But how disappointing and anticlimactic and absolutely lame would that have been?! So, after much hassle, and back-and-forth phone calls between my mother, the ticketing agency and I, all the while, borrowing strangers' cell phones and using the airport's curtousy phone, I finally re-booked my flights for the following day. This, however, meant that we did, indeed get *almost* a full refund on the ticket price, but we also had to make up the rather hefty price difference for the new flights, AND, now I had to get myself from Sacramento to San Francisco, to pick up my pack and resume my journey.
**sigh**
At least my luggage didn't leave the country without me.

So after a 2 hour greyhound bus ride to San Francisco, and with the help of a number of perfect strangers, I made it via the BART to the San Francisco airport by about 10pm, to try to get my baggage. Well, as you would expect, the airlines had no representatives at 10pm to help me with my lost baggage, but the DID tell me that I could "come back" in the morning. My mind went quiet. Come back from where? Where am I supposed to go? My flight doesn't leave for 24 hours!
So, here's where all the muck in my mind that began to creep up actually mellowed down. Time to find the lesson(s).
1) Perseverence. Sometimes you just gotta work a little bit harder to get what you want. It's up to you to decide if its worth it, but I've always felt that if it doesn't challenge you, it's not worth it.
2) Be flexible. It's useless to get worked up over having to spend a few extra hours to make something work. Like having to spend a total of 3 hours to get from one airport to another and sleeping on the floor behind a row of plastic chairs of the international terminal.

And while I am VERY grateful that I've been able to contact (almost) all of my reservations in India and that I was even able to get a refund and re-book my flights, I am also acutely aware of just how much privilege this all assumes. My lack of cell phone was a serious inconvenience, but I had other technology which gets wifi and I was able to email everyone I needed to contact. I did have access to money saved up that could cover the difference in the price of my tickets, and I could afford to spend an extra several hours and extra bucks towards a greyhound and the BART. And even beyond the issue of finances, I am a nonthreatening (to most) white woman that did not pose much of a threat to any of the security guards who saw me curled up on the floor of the terminial. Had I been of another cultural descent, perhaps that would not have been the case.

Yogic practices were originally reserved for the elite yogis and sages who could "afford," so to speak, to spend their time seeking higher states of consciousness. They were all men, they were all of the priest class. So when people say, "I can't do yoga, I'm not flexible enough," I can now recognize both the physical, and metaphorical limitations some people face in the pursuit of flexibility, or in the pursuit of yoga. In fact, most yoga practitioners in the West are from a cultural heritage of privilege (cue, image of a group of soccer-mom, housewives at a "hatha power vinyasa" class at 11am on a Thursday...)

In a few BIG cities (San Francisco, Berkeley, New York.. and a few others..) there is a movement called Yoga To The People (www.yogatothepeople.org) that operates at least majorly, if not solely, on a donation basis- crossing at lest some of the access barriers to yoga, though certainly not all. They're good people though. I went to a class in Berkeley last week.

Well- I am going to go try to claim my pack! And the journey continues- may YOUR path be illuminated!

Traveling Library

Very exciting news. I just filled my metaphorical bookshelf with the books I have committed myself to reading during this journey. They will all be traveling with me in electronic form- which will be a bit of a challenge to distance myself from the text by reading via an LCD screen, but it will have to be done. Here's my book list for the next nine months. If you have any suggestions, please let me know via comment- this list is not written in stone!

Hatha Yoga Pradipika
Light on Yoga (Patanjali)
Yoga and Ayurveda: Self-Healing and Self-Realization (Frawley)
Radical Healing (Ballentine)
The Healing Process (Steiner)
The Web That Has No Weaver (Kaptchuck)
Ayurveda: The Science of Self-Healing (Lad)
Tao and Dharma (Svodoba, Lade)
Staying Alive: Women, Ecology, and Development (Shiva)
The Ecology of Health (Chesworth)
Biology Under Influence: Dialectical Essays on Ecology, Agriculture and Health (Lewontin, Levins)

Like I said, any and all suggestions and reviews are welcome!

Entering book-worm phase...

Pre-Departure Post

Two weeks prior to departure: I am completely moved out of my apartment in Olympia. I packed everything I own (not a whole lot, actaully) into the car and drove straight south for 11 hours to Davis, California. I am staying with my sister for what I had hoped would be a nice break. But, alas, sisters never fail to stress each other out. This, too, will be a challenge. This, too, shall pass.
Check list for the next 2 weeks:
1. Inventory medications
2. Inventory toiletries (all liquids less than 3oz!)
3. Make a copy of passport, visas, and itinerary.
4. Print plane and train tickets.
5. Contact guesthouse and Yogi to confirm booked dates and inquire about water quality. (Do I need to invest in a water pump?)
6. Choose and confirm a work-exchange in Yunnan China (www.helpx.net, www.workaway.info, www.couchsurfing.org, others.)
7. Contact travel agent in India about a flight to Kunming, China.
8. Prioritize clothing and books.
9. Re-pack my pack.
10. Finalize budget
11. Pre-departure blog post CHECK

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