In case you weren't already jealous....

Have we written yet about the food in southern India?

Well, as Joy Kobayashi would say: Delicious.

Most "Indian food" we eat in the U.S. is northern Indian food (things like Aloo Palak, naan bread, samosas, etc.). I'm a big fan, and I look forward to chowing down when we head up north.
(I should pause to note that I'm generally wrong about most things, so I fully anticipate that I have irked someone out there by referring to naan as northern Indian food, or by saying that most Indian joints in the U.S. serve northern Indian food. In case I haven't done this already on this blog, I am hereby issuing a generic apology and mea culpa for virtually everything espoused on this site. But since I'm on vacation, I'll leave it to y'all to Wikipedia it yourself if you don't like my sweeping pronouncements.)

Okay, so southern India food. Delicious. Usually we eat "set meals" for lunch consisting of rice and several different kinds of curries, yogurts, and other culinary concoctions. They're all-you-can-eat. They're most often vegetarian (and I love the fact that they refer to things as "veg" and "non-veg," like vegetarianism is the standard and a meat-based diet is deviant).

Here is one version:

Version 2 served on a banana leaf

They're also super-cheap. Yesterday, Deb and I had an absolutely incredible all-we-could-eat lunch for 55 cents each. Throw in a Pepsi each and the whole meal for both of us was $1.70.

Then there are dosas -- the standard version, eaten for breakfast (or dinner), is a pancake-like thing made out of lentil flour, filled with mashed potatoes and onions (and some other veggies) and served with a few side sauces (like coconut chutney and a spicy tomato sauce). You might not think that mashed potatoes inside a fried pancake sounds tasty for breakfast, but you'd be wrong. They're incredible.

Then there are the sweets:

The only thing really lacking is good ice cream (we can only get it in the big cities). That, and the fact that "milkshake" means "milk with flavoring."

Unfortunately, we're leaving the south tomorrow morning, flying way up north to Darjeeling (land of tea and British toy trains). Ta-ta!

Stop touching me, monkey!

Yes, you read that right. I did not say "Stop touching my monkey!" Instead, I said "Stop touching me, monkey!"

Why? Because I was attacked by a monkey. Yes, attacked. Viciously assaulted. Violently violated. Traumatically terrorized.

In other words, it scratched me.

(A brief interlude for those of you -- namely, my dear Mother -- who won't be able to read the rest of this post without knowing the following immediately: yes, I went to the doctor, and no, I don't have rabies, and yes, I'll live.)

We're in Mamallapuram, a town renowned for its stone carvings and ancient temples. We were visiting the Siva Temple, perched high on a hilltop with just a small walkway between the stone temple walls and the fence preventing us tourists from plummeting to the rocks below. All around the temple are rhesus monkeys (or something similar), who seem relatively unconcerned with all the tourists. So far, so good.

Two of the monkeys decided they wanted the sugary drink in the possession of a small Indian child nearby. They climbed up the rocks and came towards us all, blocking the stairs down and coming much closer than we would like. If you look at the photo in the link above, you'll see that there's not a lot of room to maneuver. We tried to get to the stairs, but then one of the monkeys jumped up on the fence railing right next to me.

Deborah, unconcerned about the welfare of the small child, climbed through the fence and on to the rocks below. I, of course, was far more brave (and by "brave," I mean "too slow to think to crawl through the fence"). I ducked and tried not to wet myself.

The monkey seemed upset that I was blocking its way to sugary bliss, and it scratched me on the back of my neck.

In case you're wondering, monkeys have sharp claws.

(Another pause for those who may be concerned with my well-being: I had two very superficial scratches. It's not like I was getting lightheaded from the blood loss.)

In the meantime, the child's father gave the monkey the orange soda, and we all ran down the stairs. I wiped my bleeding neck with an antibacterial cloth while the other tourists said, "injection, injection!" So, naturally, the next thing we did was to go and visit some of the other temple sights. And then go to a travel agent to book some plane tickets. And then to the ATM. And then to get some candy.

I was debating whether to go to the clinic. Would you have gone? I mean, do you really want to get a shot from some clinic in a small town in India? It's not like the monkey bit me or anything ('cause then I would've gone a little more quickly -- I probably would've skipped the travel agent and gone to the clinic right after the candy store). Plus going to the clinic would probably take, oh, four hours, and I really had other things I wanted to do today (like eating lunch. And dinner. And more candy).

Anyway, the clinic was nearby, so we decided to pop in. I was immediately told that I needed an injection. I asked what the injection was for, and was immediately taken in to see the doctor (since the first woman's English wasn't so great). The doctor asked if my Tetanus shots were up to date (they are), and then said that I didn't need anything. She said they give a rabies shot if you get a bite, but for a scratch, it's just a Tetanus booster. Then the nurse scrubbed down my neck with alcohol (ow!), and we were sent on our way. Total time: 3 minutes. And it was free. And, after such a traumatizing experience, I declared that I was entitled to all the candy and ice cream I wanted. I got a Cadbury bar, and Indian sweets, and an ice cream bar. Though I do have a hankering for a banana and some grubs....

French masseurs, snakes, and Napoleon Dynamite

Sorry our blog posts have been a bit Deb-centric as of late, but I now have a little time to blog a bit (and this will be a G-rated post revolving around something other than excrement, I promise). This post is a bit longer than normal, though, so if you bill by the hour, make sure you're doing some "work" for a client with deep pockets for the next few minutes.

Why do I have some free time, do you ask? Well, it's because Deb is currently getting a "free" massage from some young French man we met yesterday.

Now some of you may think, "Dan, shouldn't you be concerned that some French dude is giving Deb a rub-down (and, let's face it, Deb probably isn't wearing much clothing) while you're off checking your e-mail?"

My answer, of course, is "no." He may be a professional masseur, plus he's French (and we all know how much Deb loves a good brie), but I have lavender pants. Take that, Frenchie!

Okay, moving on.

We're leaving tomorrow morning for Thiruvannamalai, where there are a whole bunch of temples and where, every full moon (that's tomorrow), thousands of pilgrims come and walk a 14-km loop around this mountain. And there are people selling tasty treats. So I'm told. Sorry if I'm a little fuzzy on the details -- after we go, I'll let you know how things turn out.

In the meantime, we're still hanging out in Auroville. One curious reader has asked why Deb and I seem to be spending a lot of time in Ashrams, intentional communities, and other cult-like places. The reason is simple: we get to see a whole lotta crazies. I mean, stuff you couldn't make up. Like this:

Last Friday was "International Peace Day." Lucky for us, we arrived in Auroville just in time. Friday evening, as Deb was busy soiling herself (whoops -- sorry, won't mention it again!), I left her and went to the Peace Day party down the road. (Don't look at me like that - she was sick, and therefore no fun to be around, and there was a party -- what was I supposed to do?)

Actually, I hadn't meant to go to the party at all. I had some work I wanted to do on the computer, so I left my hotel, got to the main road, and turned toward the computer center. A Dutch couple and their grown son started following me, assuming I was going to the party. I told them it was in the other direction, and they turned and walked away.

This was around 8:00 p.m. We're in a pretty rural area, so not many lights (and not much traffic). Dirt roads, lots of trees. Got a good mental image? It's dark. No people around. Quiet, except for the bugs and the bats. Okay, bats don't make much noise, but they're still creepy. It's dark and creepy.

The Dutch people walk away. I walk about 30 yards when I see something on the road in front of me. I shine my flashlight on it. It's a snake. A big snake. About 3 feet long (and though I am prone to exaggeration from time to time, I promise you that there is no herpetological hyperbole at work here).

I stop and stare for a minute. Then I realize that the snake doesn't seem to care that I'm near it. In other words, it's not picking up the pace -- it's just crossing the road at its own leisurely pace. That can't be good.

Naturally, I turn around and run in the other direction.

(A temporal interruption -- the following day, I saw a book in the Visitors' Center entitled "Common Snakes of Auroville." I am not certain, but I am fairly sure that I saw the Common Krait. "Common Snakes of Auroville" notes that the Common Krait is "six to eight times as poisonous as the Common Cobra." Fantastic.)

I catch up with the Dutch folks, and we proceed to the party. The main event at the party is a musical performance by Jivan (this guy from Kauai), along with some other guy, playing some mellow peace-themed songs on acoustic guitar. But that's not the truly entertaining part.

For the show, the performers had set up a big white screen along a wall, and there was a projector casting abstract images up on the screen (just colors and lines and stars and things like that -- just background images). A woman, covered in a sheet, stood between the projector and the screen. This meant that the woman's shadow was cast up onto the screen. For several songs, the woman just swayed back and forth.

So you've got a few hundred people in the audience, listening to two dudes playing acoustic guitar and signing peace-themed songs, fronted by a woman wearing a sheet swaying back and forth.

But it gets better.

During "Let it Be," a spotlight shines into the audience. A man stands up. The man begins to hand out plumeria flowers to audience members.

The man is wearing nothing but a pair of powder-blue tights. Plus body paint -- a whole bunch of colored lines running from his head to his waist. And he's got blue glitter on his shaved head. His scalp shimmers in the spotlight. He's thin, really built, but his skin is all leathery. Imagine a Slim-Jim training for a triathlon. A free-range goat turned pro surfer. A skinny, sinewy Schwarzenegger.

Blue-headed, wearing only powder-blue tights and body paint, the guy empties his flower basket and makes his way on stage. He and swaying-lady then start dancing. Free form dance. They probably didn't rehearse on their own. They certainly didn't rehearse together. But then again, why bother? That's why they call it "free-form dance" -- there are no steps to learn, no need to be embarrassed by making a wrong move. Man and woman dance. Sometimes they use candles to help spread their message of peace and love. Sometimes they use various pieces of fabric as they twirl.

I really, really, really wish I'd brought the camera.

After a while, I sat down to chat with the Dutch folks. They asked how I liked the performance. I said it was "very interesting." They agreed. I then said, "It makes me happy, though, to think that Auroville is the kind of place where people feel safe and comfortable enough to do ... whatever it was that they're doing."

Amazingly enough, this was not the most entertaining dance performance Deb and I have seen in India. Not by a long shot. And again, we had the misfortune of leaving our camera in our room, so you'll have to trust my description of the event.

Our last night at the Sivananda Ashram (the first Ashram we went to -- the place we did yoga for a week and a half), there was a talent show. And my, what talent! A few people read poems they'd written, a few more sang some songs (one girl sang in Polish), and a group of people did the Hokey Pokey.

But then, up stepped Praveen.

Praveen is from India, and he's like Gumbi on meth. He's very flexible and bendy, but crazy. He's got this electricity in his eyes, but you're always afraid he's going to fall down a flight of stairs. He's like that.

Praveen puts his cell phone next to a microphone and mutters something about the song being called "Something Something." The song starts to play on the cell phone, but it's not too loud and the quality's pretty bad (because, as I said, he'd miked his cell phone).

Have you ever seen the movie "Napoleon Dynamite"? It's exactly like that.

He jumps, he slides, he grooves. Waves of rhythm cascade down his rubbery exterior. He throws in a yoga pose here and there for good measure. He almost runs into the Swami (the guy who runs the ashram). He plows into a microphone stand. He makes himself so dizzy that he nearly falls over.

He's fantastic.

I mean, Deb and I think he's fantastic. We can't stop laughing. The other dozen or so audience members don't know what to think at all. But I'm transfixed, thinking only that I wish I had a videocamera.

Afterwards, one of the audience members said to me, "Well, I guess that's the kind of performance you get when you have no inhibitions whatsoever."

It was, with all sincerity, one of the best things I've seen on this trip. And that, my friends, is why Deb and I seek out these nutjobs.

Gotta run -- we have a meditation appointment at the big gold ball.

102 degrees by a big gold golf ball.

WARNING! There are many details of a disgusting personal nature in this blog post. You should clearly stop reading now.

On Thursday afternoon, I felt a cold coming on. No big deal--I bought some orange juice and decided to flush out the sinuses with my new netti pot. Dan and I had a fabulous French/Indian dinner and I went to bed early. On Friday morning, I was feeling better enough that we decided to head the few miles to Auroville where we planned to spend a few days. Auroville is this unusual intentional community....but I'll get to that soon.

By the time we got to Auroville, I was feeling miserable....
In hindsight, I think the big mistake was that I'd used regular old tap water in the netti pot, not filtered. I mean who knew all those systems were connected? (please now all sing 'the knee bone's connected to the thigh bone' la la la)

So, now on top of the head cold and menstrual cramps I'd started the day with, I also had explosive diarrhea and a temperature that spiked at 102 degrees. (thanks Nancy Fleming for the suggestion to bring the thermometer.) At which point I started taking the heavy duty antibiotics.

Dan and I have both skillfully picked times on this trip to get sick when we were staying at places with bathrooms relatively far from our room. I should give snaps to Dan since in Kenya, he not only had a long walk to the bathroom, but it was a long drop outhouse.

Check out how cute the place we are staying is however...
We are staying on the second floor. You can't see it in the picture, but you have to go up some spiral stairs and then in a trap door in the floor.



The guesthouse buildings are all centered around this beautiful banyan tree.


OK. So, the trap door, the spiral stairs, needing to find shoes and a flashlight to go outside, a walk to the toilet where there might be snakes. Needless to say, I pooped my pants. Twice. And Dan is making me tell you this. Plus I have no shame and think it's funny.

Thankfully, the place we are staying also has free laundry.

Antibiotics are a miracle and I'm feeling back to perfect health.

We'll blog more about Auroville soon. To whet your appitites -- It's got this huge gold thing in the center with a white meditation chamber inside, with an enourmous crystal that they beam sunlight onto. You just can't make up stuff that good.



And people REALLY like the gold ball...


A bonus picture of Dan a few minutes ago since I feel that we should both suffer public humiliation on the same day (misery loves company right) I highlight this photo to show you, our dear readers that he has devolved to wearing pyjamas pretty much all the time. In public. Please also note that these particular pants are lavender. Pretty, huh?

The Mother....

So first a few pictures from the last few days.

This was the view of rice fields on our marathon train trip a couple days ago.
Here's a few shots from the parade to go and wash Ganesha....At first I thought it was a military coup...then I noticed the Karaoke machine :-)






We are staying at our 3rd ashram now. For some background, an ashram is a place that centers around some sort of guru (maybe alive, maybe dead) and all the people who come to study that person's teachings. Some are more religious than others. All have loads of character and even more "characters." Plus the guest houses are cheap and clean. They generally have a bunch of rules you have to follow (i.e. no drugs or alcohol and certain hours of quiet.)

Here in Pondicherry we are staying at the Sri Aurobindo Ashram. Aurobindo (dead for a long time) taught and wrote about the blend of yoga and science. When he died, his philosophy was taken over by "The Mother" a French woman who has now also been dead for over 30 years.
Here's the view from the lanai off our room.



Each room features the lovely decor of a photo of Aurobindo and "The Mother." I think their eyes follow me as I move around the room...

Houseboat photos and luxury massage

Now that I have comfortably gecko free pants on, I can upload a few photos.

This is an Indian taxi. From what century you might ask?



Here's a few photos of what we floated by on our houseboat trip






Dan was concerned that you might think that we
are getting spoiled here in the lap of luxury. With free cruises and
massages and all Just in case...this is the room he got massaged in.


No soft lighting, new age music or aromatherapy here. The Kerela Ayurvedic massage involves a copious amount of oil with herbs in it (they literally pour it on you.)
The
women aren't even given a sheet (Dan got a little paper loin cloth.) I
gotta tell you, in general, I'm quite comfortable being naked, but
sitting completely nude on a plastic stool and having a large Indian
woman rub oil all over your breasts is a bit disconcerting even for me.

Bus trips and things in Deb's pants

Deb and I made it to Pondicherry (which, as of last October, is now called "Puducherry") after a 16.5 hour train ride, 1 hour bus journey, and 10-minute rickshaw ride. The best part was waiting for the bus, when we got to see a parade for Ganesh's birthday. Will post a photo tomorrow.

The bus trip was ... great. We were on a huge luxury bus, with about 120 other people. It was PACKED. (The fact that I stank after our long train journey did not, however, persuade my fellow passengers to give me a little more breathing room.)

Since the bus was big, the bus had the right of way on the road. Which meant that the driver leaned on the horn the whole time, overtook other, slower-moving vehicles at will (regardless of whether there was something coming the other way), and drove at speeds appropriate for an empty stretch of the I-90 (not a winding, narrow, road filled with bicyclists, motorcycles, pedestrians, rickshaws, cars, trucks, tractors, oxen, and more). We didn't die (though I did have visions of being catapulted out the front window, since I was standing near the front), but I am a little deaf from the horn-blowing.

***

As I'm sitting here typing (and Deb's next to me), Deb keeps saying, "I think there's a bug in my pants. It feels like there's an ant or something." At which point she rolls down her pants slightly from the waist and sees something. We're sitting in a coffee shop surrounded by other tourists, and she's pulling down her pants. She keeps rolling. The "ant or something" turns out to be a 3-inch long gecko, which jumps out of her pants and onto the floor. Deb, naturally, screams and knocks over her chair. I start laughing. The poor gecko runs away.

A tragedy of epic proportions

Perhaps my mother was right: perhaps my Tanzanian assailant should have kept my iPod. Perhaps I have bad luck. Or perhaps I shouldn't have been using my iPod while washing my clothes by hand. Regardless, my iPod is now toast. Such a cruel twist of fate.

Oh well. Either I'll get it fixed at home (restoring the iPod through iTunes didn't work, for those of you who will immediately jump in with a proposed solution), or I'll have an excuse to upgrade to a new one (hmmm, what color Nano should I buy? Or should I get a shuffle? Good thing we have a 15 hour train ride tomorrow, so I'll have time to think about it...).

Our first step toward Bollywood stardom!

First the long awaited answer to the poll.

The only t-shirt we haven't seen is "I heart ass." I'm still losing sleep over the memory of the old woman wearing the "I'd rather be masturbating" shirt in Kenya. The one about bird flu, I found quite hysterical, and I think the guy wearing it actually understood English :-)

Dan and I left Amma's Ashram after they yelled at him for slicing onions too thickly. Literally. For a volunteer job. When she said "If you couldn't slice them 'thin' you should have let me know and I would have found someone else to do it." Dan's response was "we're out of this loony bin."

I must say, we met tons of interesting people at the Ashram. For example:

1) The couple in their later 50s from Seattle who recently put their house on the market, picked up and moved to the Ashram sight unseen (they had never even been to India before.) They'd been there are few days and were having second doubts due to the humidity and chaos.

2) The french woman who'd lived at the Ashram for several years who explained that sometimes if you sit on the stage with Amma, you can actually kiss her feet! This was supposed to make everyone gasp with glee.

3) The woman from New Mexico who traveled 72 hours to get to the Ashram, was so tired and hungry that she was literally weeping on Dan's shoulder, but decided that no, before going to sleep or having food, she was going to wait in line to see Amma. P.S. The next day we saw her about 5pm (she'd been asleep for about 17 hours). Dan started telling her where to get dinner and she said "isn't it early in the morning?"


Needless to say, we are now in the beautiful town of Alleppey. The heart of the backwaters.

Yesterday, we went to the tourist information office to get some info about hiring a houseboat. It's the thing to do here, but it aint cheap. One day is a minimum of $100 for 2 people. That might not sound like a lot, but at the crazy ashram all food and lodging was abut $10/day.


As we were discussing options, a guy came in and said "do you want to go on a houseboat for free?" Free?!?!?!?! Our frugal ears perked up. Of course we were interested! But what was the catch? Well.....they had a brand new luxury house boat and needed some white people to be in the photos for the brochure and website......finally being white and fabulously good looking has paid off!!!!


So we cruised around for about 7 hours, posing in the various rooms, gazing serenly at the fishermen and the birds with a 5 person camera crew snapping away, pretending to eat and watch the flat screen tv. Actually eating food made by the top chef they have. The boat we were on is going to rent for about $400/night in the high season...that's about double the price of the Hilton in Delhi. It was an odd and fabulous experience. Dan and I are planning to enter the next round of America's Top Model.

The owner of the boat is supposed to send us a few of the professional shots and we'll post them ASAP.

Photos

Okay, here goes. For any of you Jewtown doubters:




This is home of the Paradesi Synagogue, a 450-year-old synagogue with incredible lamps and tiles (each one of the several thousand floor tiles is hand-painted and unique). We couldn't take pictures inside, so click on the link above to see more.

Here is a photo from the Sivananda Ashram (the first Ashram we visited, where we did yoga until we fell apart) -- there's a photo of the late Swami Sivananda behind the Krishna statue:




Here are the few intrepid souls who made it to the top of the mountain on our leisurely day off (still doing yoga -- notice I'm the one taking the photo, refusing to stretch any more):




Here's a photo of our "driver" from our canoe trip in the backwaters of Kerala a few days ago. Shortly after I took this photo, he got clocked by a tree and fell in the water.





Here's Amma's Ashram, where we're staying now. It's a pretty industrial place -- thousands of people -- though Deb and I did manage to get a hug each from Amma yesterday afternoon (man, she is one happy lady!). She started at around 11:00 in the morning, and we got our hug around 8:00 p.m. I don't think she ever got up to go to the bathroom or eat or anything, and she was still smiling -- and gave us a very vigorous hug -- when we got to see her.


Publish Post

We have decided, however, that we are not going to sell everything we own and devote our lives to Amma (as many other westerners here have done). In other words, don't worry Moms and Dads, we're not drinking the Kool-Aid. We're leaving today, as soon as our laundry is dry. Will post more soon.

Jewtown and Ashram, parts 1 and 2

Okay folks, sorry for the long delay between blog posts, but we've found that those seeking spiritual enlightenment don't necessarily place great emphasis on high-speed internet access. We were at the Sivananda Ashram for 9 days before we collapsed from exhaustion (wake up at 5:20, 4-5 hours of yoga a day, 3 hours of meditation/chanting, and an hour of manual labor. Yowzaa. Oh, and on our day off we hiked up a mountain. Not kidding). The Sivananda Ashram was pretty great, though -- food was fantastic (all organic, vegetarian, Ayurvedic, all-you-can-eat), our fellow ashramites were really nice, and the yoga classes were challenging (there were several yoga instructors from other countries who were staying at the Ashram, and even they were taking the beginner classes).

Prior to coming to the Ashram, we visited Cochin (on the ocean, in the far southwest). Cochin wasn't anything special, except for Jewtown. Happy Rosh Hashanah!

In case you think we're making this up -- we'll post a photo tomorrow (internet is about to close).

In Kenya and Tanzania, whenever we registered at a hotel, we had to write down our names, addresses, occupations, and "tribes." We got much enjoyment out of making up our occupations, which was always some variant on something we'd done that day (if we'd taken a boat, we wrote down "captain" or "pirate." One day, Deb was a professional swimmer, and on another, an actress). But we consistently listed our tribe as "Jew," so we were excited to see a place that is actually called "Jewtown."

Ashram, Part 2:

We decided that we needed more spiritual guidance, so, after spending two days relaxing in Kollam (underneath a rather interesting statue), we arrived at Amma's Ashram. This place is fabulous. Thousands of people, literally worshiping Amma ("Mother") -- one of India's few female gurus (people believe she's a saint and frequently burst into tears when near her). I have never seen so many men with Jesus hair (you know, long hair, long beard) and so many people wearing white billowy outfits. In theory, photography is prohibited here, but I'll do my best to take some surreptitious shots for y'all. You won't believe it until you see it.

More to come....

Om Shanti

Om shanti, shanti, shanti

We've been at the Sivananda Ashram in Kerala for several days now... long enough to not really remember what day of the week it is.

We are both in an odd state of relaxation combined with extreme fatigue. There are fabulously few decisions to make here, and it's quiet and beautiful. The big decision today -- to swim in the gorgeous lake since there may be crocodiles or simply take a nap....There is an exacting routine we follow each day beginning at 5:20 am and going until about 10pm. This includes two sessions of yoga each 2 (or 2 1/2) hours long, several meditation sessions, chanting and meals we eat in silence. Right now Dan is off getting an Ayurvedic massage (don't feel too bad for poor me...I'm getting one tomorrow).

There is a line for the one computer, so I'll update you more in a few days.

Namaste