Thailand - The beginning of 3 months in S.E. Asia

At last Asia…and the cultures I had spent so many days dreaming about. India and Nepal are a part of the Asian sub continent. But in many ways they are not the Asia I have envisioned. I came out on this travel to see Asia. So arriving in Bangkok and finally eating some quality Thai cuisine was priceless. The flight to Bangladesh and out again was delayed and delayed. Though I had good company in a crazy Italian named Simon.

Arriving in Thailand ment, meeting back up with Beth and Shell as well as Shells friend Korin and the following night meeting up with the parents as well as my other sister Jessica. For two weeks we were catered to and lived a more lustrous life out of our backpacks thanks to Mom and Dad. We toured some parts of Bangkok in the beginning as well as the end. We also caught a flight down to Krabi visiting the Phi Phi islands, the coasts of Ao lang and Railay, and many other beachs and islands via the long boats.

Bangkok was a surprise in how clean it was. Especially after leaving the streets of Paraganj in Delhi 2 days previous. When I left the Main bizarre in Paraganj. The sewers had backed up. So they literally took off the manhole covers and were shoveling out piles of shit right onto the street. When you looked down the street there were like twenty of these piles each a meter and a half in circumference and another meter high. The smell in the afternoon heat left a lot to be desired. All I could do was shake my head with the same remark I had said a thousand times before as I walked out of Delhi… “India!” Arriving in Bangkok though, I felt like I could practically eat off the streets there. Everything was so clean everywhere. That and the airport (Which is brand new) felt like a space port in how modern and flashy it was.

Walking the streets of Bangkok at night on Sukmuvit street with the sky rail above, or khao san Road, or the night market feels like something out of a science fiction movie like blade runner or a hundred other great films. It is an international city. One colorful clean and new. New buildings are springing up all over the city along with a hundred or more shopping centers. It is interesting to be in the mix of such a new and modern city but I wish I could of seen the old Bankok. The state I come from has the Mall of America. So I could do without all the malls and Mcdonalds. A friend I met traveling some months ago wrote that after leaving India and arriving in Bangkok. You felt like it had sold it’s soul for new and beautiful. It does feel that way somewhat. There are all the golden temples but the canals are empty along with so much more. I really do like Bangkok. It just reminds me too much of home. Maybe in the next few days of wandering here with my camera and curiosity I will find what I am looking for.

The markets through out Thailand are end less. I couldn’t keep track of the amount of stalls and vendors I have walked by or seen in the last 3 weeks. There’s the night market, The weekend market, the street market, the floating market (All on boats), and so many others. The streets are endless with them. Which are fun in the beginning but when you are with three sisters and your mother it gets to be a bit much. I never really buy much traveling. So in all that shopping with them I ended with only two new brace lets, some new swimming trunks, and a new sarong replacing the one I lost and had bought in Brazil those many years ago.

We made our way back to the Andaman sea along the south west coast of Thailand. From Ao Nang we caught a ferry and hour and a half out to Ko Phi Phi Don. A huge island off the coast of Thailand. Ko Phi Phi Don was hit pretty hard in the 2004 Tsunami, so a lot of the island was under reconstruction while we were there. It was a nice little stretch of beach with a hundred restaurants and clubs but to many water mosquitoes (an under water “thing” that is constantly stinging you all over your body….does not feel good) But we did sign on to a tour that took us out to many beautiful picturesque islands including Ko Phi Phi Leh and Maya beach where the movie “The Beach” was filmed. It was stunning and fun till one of the boats broke down and we had to get towed back in the rains.

A few days later we caught the boat back to Railay beach along the coast. There are 4 beach’s along this stretch of the coast and all are only accessible by boat. Railay in many ways is the post card of the beach’s of Thailand. The headlands along the sea are huge round rocky bluffs along with many tall pinnacle shaped islands off shore. It is stunningly beautiful with its lush green forests, long quiet white sand beach’s, hot weather, and clear turquoise and teal waters, It brought to mind Rio De jainero and the south coast of brazil minus all the city and noise. The food is good and the life is easy. Long boats ferry passengers to many different islands off the coast at a low cost and you can venture your way out to any of a number of secluded beach’s on the islands off the coast.

I had read about Railay in a local news paper article two months before leaving home. It turned out to be even better than I had hoped. There are also many rock climbers and base jumpers out every day high or low on the cliffs. Many of which had huge stalagtites hanging from them. It’s hard to explain just how high these limestone walls are but some of these climbers were just a small speck on the walls high, high above.

In and amongst all these rocky cliffs and bluffs were also many caves high and low. Many of which we climbed around or into. One of these caves carried a legend with it that an Indian princesses ship crashed along the coast so many hundreds of years ago and she took shelter in the cave…. So if a fisherman these days is looking for good fortune and a good catch, he leaves an offering at the caves entrance for her. The most common offering is a wooden phallic. So to say a little there is a pile of peckers at the base of the cave varying in every shape, size, color, and variety that a princess might want.

When I look back on the last two weeks with the family. What was best was spending time together. Which we did every day all day long most days. And we had a great time together. We shared every meal, boat ride, bed, and sunset. Dad got sick one night so we pushed three beds together in one room and 5 of us spent 2 nights all sleeping together in a bunch like pea’s in a pod, watching movies in air conditioning back in Ao Nang. It was good to touch base and share stories together. But two weeks passed quickly like so many weeks before it all and all of us split up again. Mom, Dad, and Jess are heading home. Beth and shell are heading north and I am heading south. It was good to touch base but it will also be nice to get back out on the road again. Just as soon as I spend two more weeks down on the beach. I wish you well and will be in touch again soon. One more great thing about S.E. Asia - Wi - Fi. I love you all. Till that day my friends. - Jeremy

Teachings from the Dali Lama and the end of India

Dharmasala India was supposed to be a stop over point for a few days before working my way further north still. I knew it was the home of his holiness the 13th Dali Lama and of Tibet in exhile and along the outer wall of the Indian Himalaya. I hoped to see the home of the Dali lama, enjoy the good nature of the Tibetan people as I had in Nepal, and to see the Himalaya one last time. I expected to be there only 3-5 days but ended up leaving 10 days later.
Arriving in Dharmasala was an experience in itself. I was wearing all the warm cloths I owned, which was practically nothing since I had sent all my warm clothes home after Nepal. I had no shoes as they were stolen some months back in Goa. Noir did I own a sweater or jacket let alone gloves or a hat. So in good Minnesota fashion I layered on 4-5 shirts, 2 pair of socks, and wrapped my khadi blanket around me. The bus ride out to Dharmasala was under a pouring sleet. One that never really abated. The roads were flooded and the rivers had gone beyond they’re banks in a muddy brown that recalled images of natural disasters viewed on the tele back home. The road felt like a game of connect the dots for seven hours, except it was connect the pot holes. But to make matters worst was the bus ceiling was more then a leak it was a faucet. So I arrived in Dharmasala late in the night to the cold mountain air. Watching my breath come out in plumes under the bus stand street light. And all the warm cloths I owned were soaking wet. It was a rough beginning.

But…… Good things come to those who suffer for it. I jumped in a jeep where I met my two Canadian counter parts Christie and Carrie. One from Nova Scotia the other from Labrador. I forgot Labrador even existed. The last time I heard it mentioned was in sixth grade geography with Mrs. Block. But it’s always good to be reminded of places unknown or forgotten in the world. Nobody but the Swedes seem to know where Minnesota is. So I suppose it all comes full circle.

When we disembarked from the jeep up top in Mcleoud Ganj with our packs after winding up and up the mountain for twenty minutes. I noticed hundreds of Burgundy clad monks walking the streets with they’re shaved heads and they’re huge smiles, as well as droves of foreigners from all around the world. More foreign faces than I had seen anywhere in the last four months. It didn’t make sense to me as it was supposed to be outside the busy season in India. It was supposed to be a ghost town up there with cheap rent and no waiting on your meals. I remarked the same to Carrie and Christie and that’s when they dropped the bombshell on me.
His Holiness The Dali Lama would be doing ten days of lectures on Tibet and on Buddhism. Covering the approach to it along with the fundamentals and how to live a life of love and compassion. Thousands of monks from all around the world had come in as well as hundreds of foreigners from every stretch of the globe. The talks would begin in 3 days. I had no idea that any of it was going to be happening. So it was a huge and beautiful surprise.

I had wanted to do something in my last three weeks in India with my spiritual life, as India is a very spiritual place. People from all over the globe come here for healing, seminars, teachings, and a hundred other reasons for their own spiritual benefit. Weather it’s a Yoga class, a week at an Ashram, meditation, Tai Chi, or so many others. So it was a bit of an answered prayer to walk right into this. We found rooms in Mcleoud Ganj (that is the town where the Dali Lama and Tibet in exhile live above Dharmasala) and three days later began the teachings.

The weather cleared out beautifully the day of the teachings and would remain so for the next week and a half. The views of the sourrounding snow capped mountains were breath taking as well as the sounds of praying monks and the honest smiles of the Tibetans. Each day you woke early, washed and made your way down the mountain to the monastery. Stopping to buy hot tea and donuts or muffins to eat as you walked the temple road down. And also stopping to hand out food to the gypsies and the lepers below. Whispering your prayers as you went in the crisp early mountain air as you wound your way down. (I did purchase a Tibetan wool sweater, wool socks, and a yak wool hat).

When you would arrive at the Temple each morning there would be a line of monks and nuns slowly walking single file waiting to get in. The burgundy robbed line would wind it’s way around the temple and back for blocks. You would then go through a security check and finally walk up some steps into the courtyard above. Each morning finding a place amongst the masses (Mainly Tibetan) set down your folded blanket on the cobble stones, then set down your pillow to sit on, and lastly your sandals before taking a seat amongst the many (A few thousand…not including monks – they were all in the temple).

The monks would spread out through out the crowd passing out Tibetan bread (A small round loaf☺) and pouring Tibetan Buttermilk tea from big metal tea pots into the out stretched hands of those who brought they’re tea cups (the tea wasn’t so good ☹). The Dali Lama’s talks were mainly aimed at and for the Tibetans so he spoke in his native tongue. But there was a translator….. So you would buy a small short wave transistor radio for 2 dollars, plug in your headphones and listen that way.

The first few days of teachings there were many Tibetans visiting from Tibet. And I don’t want to say that the Dali Lama is Jesus Christ but that’s kind of what he is to them. He is the Buddha’s compassion reincarnate. He is also the symbol of they’re struggle and they’re love. So when these Tibetans saw him when he walked out and stopped to bless and talk to many of them it was a very emotional experience. One I didn’t plan on having. Seeing the Dali Lama for the first time was one I will never forget. In a way it was like the seeing Everest at sundown from Kalapatar. His holiness reminded me of my mother. She is the most loving and Compassionate person I have ever Known. And that’s the feeling you are wrapped in when looking at the Dali Lama….. And…. I cried. I haven’t cried in years and years. I suppose I didn’t have an honest cry but I did have huge puppy dog tears rolling down my cheeks. It was a powerful moment and a beautiful experience. Tibetans all around me were crying for Joy and for sorrow. It was a moment I will never forget. You don’t get many of those in life.

The teachings were of leading a good life. Of treating all with an unbiased compassion and love. Of shedding your Anger and opening up to forgiveness to all beings including your enemies. The message in all of it was a message of love and compassion. It was a great way to start every day for a week. Waking each morning early, walking down to the monstary, watching the Dali Lama walk by each day through the crowds, listening to the chanting monks, watching the crowds, listening to the translations of the teachings or his Holiness with out any translation, taking pages of notes through out all of it for future use, and returning back to the town up the winding Temple road with the milling masses and all the burgundy robed monks with they’re mala’s (prayer beads) and they’re smiles. You walked up each morning in the warmth of the afternoon sun to find lunch in the mountains and a good conversation.

The conversations I had in Mcleoud Ganj were many, they were diverse, and they were great. They were with people from all around the globe with one purpose or another, but all for the same reason. Each was looking into they’re own spiritual life. Or a different outlook on it. Like the Dali Lama said, “Each of you should stick with the religion you were born to and can identify to best. Buddhism can teach you in a few ways how to love and approach each day and all living beings around you in a compassionate way.” Every night and most afternoons I sat down to hot apple tea and good food with friends or strangers and shared in great conversations I wouldn’t fiind in any restaurant or bar back home. Those conversations with so many tucked away from the cold over steaming hot tea were priceless.

10 days later I left Mcleoud Ganj very early in the morning. Walking the quiet empty mountain streets in the dark. Catching a rickshaw down the cold mountain roads, counting out the rupees to pay in front of the single headlight of the rickshaw and then catching a bus out 5 hours away to the British Hill station of Shimla. Mcleoud Ganj in many ways was the highlight of India for me as well as the trip in many respects. I knew I was supposed to arrive there and luck had nothing to do with it. I felt god very strongly pulling the strings for me and that felt great. That was worth so much and more. A blessing I couldn’t be more thankful for.

Shimla would be the end of India for me. I spent 5 days there. In the snows and in the cold. Hiding under my four blankets from the sleet and the snow. Spending long hours high up in the mountains in cafes and restaurants talking with other travelers and photographing and journaling. I caught another early morning bus ride out of Shimla and said goodbye to the Himalaya as we wound our way down and through the mountains and back to Delhi where I would catch a flight to Bangladesh and then a day later to Thailand. I arrived in Delhi to grab a rickshaw to the Paraganj main bizarre with one wish on my mind… To have dinner that night with a friend met somewhere in India before leaving the next morning.

India granted me that last wish. I walked out of my hotel room to get dinner and at the same time Claudia and Phillip (My two Camel safari mates) walked out from the room next to me. They to were leaving for dinner and they too were leaving India the next day. The three of us walked the crazy streets of Delhi to find some good Indian Cuisine, our last dinner, good conversation of the weeks apart, and our last night in India. It was a great way to end 3 and a half months in India. A place I had loved to hate in the beginning but really came to love in so many ways by the end. It was a story like way to end it all.

It’s hard to write any last words on India as I am still trying to figure out in how many ways it moved me and changed me. India is country you must adapt to or you’ll never make it. It’s a daily love hate relationship. And a working holiday if I have ever been on one. It is unlike any other place in the world. At times you hate it for that and at other times you love it for that. Some day when I figure out the impact of India I will share it. But it is still something I have only a lassoed a thread of understanding around. Someday. India gave me so much. In he beginning I only felt the taking. But as you begin to understand it and accept it. It all seems to come back full circle. I leave India with a thousand stories and so much more. Some day I will return.

Making a visit to the "Holy Rat Temple" and to the Golden Temple

The last three weeks in India seem a whirl wind of fate and occurrence, of religion and bizarre scenes. In a way the last three weeks seemed to sum up the immensity of India. Both in it’s geography and in it’s peoples, and cultures. The last three weeks took me from the Desert, to the Himalaya, and back to the melting pot of Delhi. The road made its way past the Hindu Karni Mata (Known as “The Holy Rat Temple”), to the Brahman pilgrimage sight of the Golden temple, and lastly to Mcleoud Ganj, the home of the Dali lama and Buddhism’s teachings for India. India came through in flying colors for me in the last 3 weeks. All bets were off to what I would find but in the end many wishs were granted.

Leaving Jaelsamier I headed north to see the last of Rajasthan. The last of Rajasthan was a town called Bikner. A dust bowl town in the desert brewing with exhaust, noise, sand, spotted banana’s, and a few thousand curious stares. I never saw another tourist or backpacker other then “Sarah” the girl I met on the 6 hour bus ride out there. Bikner was a good stopping point to get from one place to another. Which for me was the Himalaya. We hid in our hotel rooms from that small oppressive town known as Bikner and munched on chips and cookies watching “The Academy awards”. Which strangely I have seen away from home 5 years running now and have never planned to watch them any of those nights. They always just seem to find me in towns like Bikner.

The next morning we caught a one hour Bus ride through a swirling dust storm that you couldn’t see beyond 10 meter’s from the bus windows below my elbows and were dropped off literally in the middle of no where. We ran inside to find the Karni Mata amidst all that swirling dust and had to take shelter in it. Although it also was the reason for our small adventure and the hundred stares we endured with weary hot smiles on the drive out. The Karni Mata or “The holy Rat Temple” is exactly as it sounds. It is a Hindu temple devoted to rats…..Hundreds and hundreds of them. It is a small temple with only a few food stands near by and desert beyond. The rats are thought to be story tellers reborn into this life from the last. I wondered if they had ever heard the story of the Pied Piper as story tellers…… They probably wouldn’t care for it to much know.

The interesting part… or what makes the stakes a bit higher is that you have to enter in your bare feet. As it is a holy sight you are not allowed to wear shoes within. And if a rat should run over your toes, then it is a sure sign of your good luck and good fortune. Well I must be lucky. It was as if someone had dipped my toes in chocolate before entering the Karni Mata. Fore I walked out a very…. VERY fortunate individual indeed. I even had a few nibbles on the toes as well. I wonder what sort of fortune that will bring me.

The temple was filled with the smell of rats and rat droppings. It was hard to keep face with all the rats running and jumping all over me but the smell was enough to chase you out as well. There were huge saucers of milk. With rats bent over the rim side by side all the way around the bowls. They’re little whiskers twitching as they drank. There were also deeper earthen bowls of grain that looked like bowls of swarming rats and worms with they’re tails thrashing about everywhere. The walls had hundreds of gutter size holes along the base of the floor that disappeared into a Holy Rat city and an underground unseen beyond the courtyard and halls. So rats were constantly appearing and disappearing through the maze.

Within all this chaos was the worshipping Hindu’s. If you see the white rat in the “Holy Rat Temple”, then you are exceptionally fortunate. So every few minutes you would hear the scream “White Rat!!!” and all the Hindus from every corner of the temple would run scurrying through the halls, rooms , and courtyards in they’re bare feet to the source of the yell and the hope of great fortune. In 20 minutes this happened 6 -7 times. It was very fun to watch. Even as much as all the rats. I never saw the white rat though. 20 minutes was enough for us. We grabbed our sandals and made a run out of the temple into the swirling desert winds and back onto another hot bus with no room to sit and a hundred eyes staring for the next hour till we were dropped back in Bikner.

Three hours later me and Sarah went our separate ways and I boarded a bus in an old food market on a dirt road along the red walls of the old fort. Cattle walked with people up and down all the cart stalls eating old tossed vegetables or nibbling them away from farmers with they’re backs turned. Of course they’re were those who were chased away with brooms or threatening carrots. Shadows lengthened and I boarded a bus over night heading for the city of the Sihks; Amritsar.

Some time late in the night the bus pulled over at a desert roadside food stand. I disembarked under the eyes of every Indian and sat leaning against the bus sharing my orange with a huge black bull alone. His big black muzzle would devour every small slice of orange I held out. He was actually a little intimidating and I think I ended up passing over more then I intended to as we stood eye to eye together. All the Indian men and women stood laughing and pointing. It didn’t bother me. It was nothing new to be laughed and pointed at in India. But as they all walked by several asked my name or shook my hand. One of the last guys to get on the bus clapped me on the back and said ”He likes you, surely this will bring you good fortune!”

I just scratched my head and got back on the bus and fell asleep. Some hours later at four in the morning I awoke in Amritsar. I stepped out of an empty bus on a back street in the cold and the rain. The streets were deep with puddles and a steady cold sleet was falling. I stepped into a bicycle rickshaw and wrapped my Khadi blanket around me and heading into the empty streets of the city. After 4 hotels and guest houses we found a room (Smelly!) and I hide under my blankets for 3 hours to snatch a bit of sleep before waking and to keep the stench out.

Amritsar was cold and gloomy. It didn’t have the most hospitable feeling to it. So I walked the muddy streets as soon as I woke to the bus station and after a lot of hassle and asking around I found a bus that would leave at noon. Three hours to kill. I hired a rickshaw and set out for the golden temple.

The golden Temple is a pilgrimage sight for all brahmans. About 30,000 a day stop by to pay they’re respects. When I showed up at the entrance they stopped several people and said they couldn’t enter without covering they’re heads but that I was fine with my bandana. I have been kicked out of many places for wearing a bandana but this was the first time that it actually bought me right of passage to get in.

The temple really is made out of real gold top to bottom and is surrounded by a pool of water and bathing ghats. The white marble courtyard and walls that surround it are washed with milk every morning. And there is a lane that connects the temple to the surrounding walkways. It is a temple that holds a air of respect and of holiness unlike any other Hindu Temple I had seen yet.The woman are colorfully dresses and the men wore bright turbans with curled mustaches and an air of dignity and respect.

An hour later I left on the worst bus ride of my life to see one of the insperatios of my life one last time before departing India. When I would reach the end of that road I would find an insperation I hadn’t counted on, a dream, fate, and Godliness. But that is another story.