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.

Returning to the Deserts of Rajasthan and 3 days by Camel

I left Varanasi with every intention of not returning to Delhi. But my only way of literally crossing from one side of the counrty at it's widest point to the other. Was either stopping in Delhi or Agra. And I definatly had had my fill of both those months back. Although I felt more at ease with India and had finally found a place with in to just accept India back on platform 12 in Calcutta and along the banks of the Ganges in Varanasi. So choosing a lesser of two evils, I chose Delhi after heving spent a week in the piss hole that is known as Parahgange Bazaare. So I set out on a late train and made a 14 hour over night journey back to Delhi where it all began.

Stepping off the train I actually smiled. This same platform those months back, a turban wearing thief with a shoe fetish, had knicked both pairs of michelles flip flops on our way to Bombay. The air was as exhaust ridden and smoggy as I had remembered if not more. But it smelt and looked familiar. Familiar was something I hadn't seen or experienced in some months....It brough a smile to my face. And I walked the streets with more ease and comfort then I had those months ago. I returned to my old hotel for breakfast and a place to drop my bag for the day. And they ripped me off again. There's not a lot of love between me and Hotel Shelton. They had previously become the poster boys of all my problems in India. But with India you do learn to accept or go mad. As soon as I had stepped off the train I walked past all the touts, screaming rickshaw drivers, and scammers with a smile and made my way right back upto the Foriegn ticket office and found a train leaving that very night for Jodphur my next destination. So a few errands in the Bazaare buying departure tickets to Thailand ( with a full night layed over in Dhaka Bangladesh...it was the cheapest I could find) a few more pics burned to CD, and a return to my favorite rooftop restaurant for some cheese bread and Pasta and I was thankfully whisked away on another 13 hour train from Delhi.

Jodphur is known as the blue city in rajasthan. The majority of its buildings every where you look, painted a sky blue. It is a reasonably quiet city for its size. And is dominated by a massive monolith of rock that is the fort above Jodphur. It is an imposing structure that bears the marks (Cannonballs) of many invaders. But the fort never fell. And it offers a stunning panoramic view of the blue city below. I spent a few hours just sitting high up on the walls with my feet dangling (Something you definatly could not do back in the U.S.) and staring far out to the distant horizon and what looked like a picasso's blue cubist period below me. I also upgraded thanks to a letter from my mom that said "Open when you get lonely". Which I did, the words were worth more then the green note to me inside but it did buy me 3 nights at a 250 year old maharaja's palace. Complete with marble everything, ornate stone work, a double bed, original paintings, Beautiful drapped textiles, a arabian cushioned balcony with a stunning view of the fort. A full bathroom with a huge shower head that actually had good water pressure and hot water. Not only that...it had a bath tub. I hadn't seen one of those in almost 4 months. And it had a beautiful rooftop restaurant to boot with views of the city and the whole fort above. So for 3 nights and four days I allowed myself some luxury In India. That costing under 25 dollars a day still. but I usually spend under $5.00 on average for a room.

I left Jodphur by way of Bus on a 6 hour trip to Jalsmier along the border of Pakistan and in the Thar desert. I was sick and the day hadn't started well with an Argument over 10 ruppees (25 cents) "tourist" charge at the bus lot. I know its nothing but it's the whole idea of people just taking money from you. Of course after this argument I had to still hand over the ten rupees and had a crowd of twenty Indian men all standing within breathing distance just staring and pointing and smiling at how I was dressed. So this didn't help the situation at all, not to mention me visiting the bathroom 4 times between 6:30 and 8. Somewhere on the bus ride out I regained my smile watching the desert and snap shots of life passing out side my window. This was the India I had wanted to see. the reason i had crossed all the way back over. And I really smiled when I arrived in Jalsemier to a sea of touts trying to sell they're hotels to me. there were quite leterally thirty guys swarming around me and grabbing at me pulling me this way and that as I was the only tourist to get off the bus. All I could do was laugh. It really was quite funny.

I found a little hole in the wall inside the fort of Jalsemier. Jalsemier is a place in the western deserts of Rajasthan. It is the India you dream to see. I am still here now, a few days longer then I had anticipated. Though I leave bright and early tommorw on another Bus North to Bikner and the Holy Rat temple. The Jalsemier fort is a huge sandstone fort the color of the desert and every single building within the maze that makes up the forts interior, as well as the whole town surrounding it outside the walls below. It is all, a golden sienna color. One that is especially rich at sunset, when viewed from one of the restaurant rooftops within the fort. And it is a great contrast coming from the blue city that was also in the desert. But much redder in tone.

The Fort is sorrounded by 99 round towers and connected by a winding rampart above the walls. Within are guest houses and craft stores that have been selling they're wares for hundreds of years. The narrow winding streets are filled with beautifully ornate textiles and crafts of camel leather, wood, and brass. Some of these streets are so narrow they get cow jams within. I ran into one the other day and no matter how hard I pushed or slapped it on the rump it would not move. They no they run things here. I had to turn around with a smile and a shake of a head and head back the other way. As well as traditional Jalsemier weavings (which I just bought today), and clothing as well. The men wear turbans with huge curled Mustachios that they take a great amount of pride in. While the women walk the streets in brilliantly colored saris. Wether rich or poor they are all dressed beautifully. The city is filled with great food and stunning views of the sandstone city and the desert beyond.

I was sick upon arriving in Jalsemier but was to dazzled to remember that. I took a step of faith and signed up onto a 2 night 3 day camel Safari leaving the next day with 4 people my age. It was achance to meet a few people and get out into some fresh air. So after some good conversation with a familiar face I had briefly talked to 2 months previous in Goa watching the sun set over the city with the muslims calling to prayer from the towers with a beer and a view that reminds you of why you left home. I woke early to leave by jeep from a bleary eyed indian who looked like he layed on the sauce pretty heavily the night before. And before I knew it we were all dropped off in the desert to a hand full of camels waiting for us. And two dark skinned Indian guides waiting for us. One muslim and the other Hindu. For our part... Me an American, An Irish Girl, a Swedish girl and a german couple.

We were sorted out and handed our camels. My camel was Sonya ( though it was a he not a she) Sonya was a bit lazy at times, a bit of a grazer, and stubborn at times with bad breath.... But really........................ what can you expect from a camel. I had learned to board an elephant in Nepal and now learned how to board a camel. pulling on they're reins that are connected to a nose peg that is pierced into they're upper nostrils, saying (chuutttt chut chut chut chut chut) till they neel all the way down onto the ground. Then looping the reins over the head. You approach the saddle lifting one leg high with the help of lifting your pant leg with one hand grabbing it up highe still and then spring onto the camels back in one jump. If you get on to slow they might get up with you only half way on and stretch you into the splits before dumping you uncermoniously into the dirt on your butt. This might or might not have happened to me. My pride forbids me to tell you any more.

When a camel stands it first throws you forward into the saddle. As the back legs stand first, then your thrown back in the opposite direction as the front legs straighten all the way up and finally the back legs stand fully upright and your straight right where you ought to be...really high off the ground on the back of a camel. When you stop to sit you go through the opposite process. Camels have a loping gate, that moves your whole body in a backward and forward motion. And there are no stir ups, so your legs just bounce around like jelly. And by day 2 your thighs are very very sore. I had to quite literally grab my leg and pull it over the saddle to get out. Day 3 though was very good. So you definatly adjust.

3 days out in the desert was exactly what I needed. to leave the craziness of all the cities. The screaming horns, the exhaust, the sellers, the touts, and the constant noise. I was reminded of it the first time we stopped for lunch. The sound of birds singing above us under the shade of a tree. Strangely I forgot that some times there are other sounds other than just rickshaws beeping. (They have a language all there own...that is rickshaws beeping..a conversation for another day) Although that quiet stillness during the day or especially during the night can be shattered by a mind boggling camel fart thats usually long enough to set your watch to. But Days were simple and beautiful. I forgot how much I loved the desert. A place that time doesn't seem to effect with all its old shrubs and villages that go back generations long turned to dust. Perhaps the shifting dunes. And every time of day in the desert wether it'e morning. high noon, evening, dusk, and night seem so much more pronounced then in any other landscape .... with the acception of mid winter back home. But it was three days out in the desert that I felt like I saw the real India. One untouched by the fingers of the west.

Our food was all cooked in old soot blackened pots and cooked over wood gathered fires. Hand made chapatis and old potatoe sacks filled with fruit and vegetables. The indian food was delicious and we had chai (tea) cooked up before every meal. The chai was especially good at dawn waiting for the sun to rise in that cool desert air. Morning in the desert just before and after dawn is an experience unlike anywhere in the world. My camel guide Ismael decided that the American Boy should go to camel college since I kept pestered him with so many questions. So for three days I helped with as much as I could. Every day going out and herding in all the hobbled camels. Walking far out into the desert in search of them with a small stick to send them running if they didn't want to. I had no idea how big camels were till I worked a little with them. When your leding them by rope out of the desert and back to camp. it's like pulling in 4 dogs by leash with all they're heads three feet above yours. By the third day I was saddeling all of them and tending to all the gear alone. When I left ismael asked me to come back out to camel college for awhile longer with just the two of us. I wished I had the time. I had desert dreams of being a cowboy by camel for two weeks. Reaching further out into the desert and learning more about camels.

We slept out on the sand dunes at night under camel smelling cotton blankets and huge beetles scurrying about over the dunes everywhere. The stars are of the desert are something to behold. Especially in that immense quiet. I would wake late sometimes to turn over but would be so caught up in staring at the heavans above that I found little sleep my few nights out there. We watched the sun rise and fall for a few mornings and nights out there and shared our fires with old wrinkled sheep herders. Who sang us songs old and beautifull along with the camel guides. I sang a few Johnny Cash and some Big rock candy monutain which they loved. everyone chipped in where they could.

The desert itself as viewed from up on high riding Sonya was somehing to see and alot I will not soon forget. Herds of Gazelles running through the valleys in the early morning dawn. Massive peacocks seeking shade under trees and shrubs at high noon. An occasional fox spooked up out of the brush. Small groups of camels eating from trees, peeking around bigger shrubs or seen at a distance. Seeing a camel in itself out in the wild was a rare treat fro me. one that always brought a smile to my face. Herds of desert cows. Old Orange turban wearing Shepherds with brown wrinkled faces and bristled white mustaches, herding flocks of white sheep with black faces or young muslim boys wearing brown with herds of black goats. There were old sun bleached bones of gazelle and cows lying about on the desert floor. They're bones stripped bare and white. Wild desert colored dogs that would follow us all day or show up at camp in the night looking for food. Women viewed at a distance carrying water, wood, or food in pots and bowls on they're heads. Wearing those brilliantly colored saris and how they stood out on the desert landscape. They walked about so elegantly in bare feet across the hot desert floor of sand, stone, and burrs. Village children that would show up at the wells while we watered the camels. Ragged cloths with the biggest smiles. We shared lunches and laughs and games with them. It felt good to get off the map for awhile.

It is night now and I have to return to pack and move again. But I have come to love India in the last few weeks. I head from here to the Holy rat Temple in Bikner. Then North to the Golden Palace and onward to mcloud gange. Where many tibetans and the Dali Lama live in exhile. One last visit to my beloved Himalaya and then onwards to S.E. Asia to begin the next stage of the trip. Reunite with the sisters as well as one more, plus mom and dad. Well time to walk the sandstone maze back home. I love you all and wish you all well. -Jeremy.

Making the pilgrimage to Varanasi

Varanasi. For months now I had heard Horror stories and love stories of Varanasi. It seemed like the melting pot of India and I had to see it for myself. They say you either fall in love with India or you run screaming vowing never to return. India for me has definatly been a working holiday. And it has been a realatioship that changes ten times a day of wether I love it or will vow never to return. So it seemed that Varanasi might be the bridging point of India for me. I really didn't know what expect, other then hearing so much on both sides of the table. It seemed a testing ground to what side of the table I sat on with India, or weather we would sit the table at all ever again.

Varanasi is the holiest city in all of India. It also resides on the holiest river in all of the world. The Ganges (pronounced Gonga) a broad and wide river that is sought out by Hindus from all over India. Which is a few hundred million. Some say it is the oldest city in the world. And others that it is visited by more Indian pilgrims then any other place in India year round. Hindus come to the river to wash they're sins away. They call the river they're "mother". On average 60,000 Hindus are down at the river every day at the bathing Ghats washing they're sins away. It is a sight to see. And one you will never forget.

The far side or opposite shore of the Ganges is a vast flood plain and beyond is all country rolling out for kilometers to the horizon, till it disappears into the heat and the haze of India. The city side of the Ganges is ringed with buttressed and fluted towered buildings and temples up and down the shore for over 3 kilometers. the buildings are old, stained and in some disrepair. Below them are the hundred or so bathing ghats and burning ghats. The bathing Ghats are usually an upper concrete platform with umbrellas to sip chai under, eat, talk, and pray. Leading down from them are more stone stairs that either end in the river, depending on the current height. Or they stop on a wider stoop to undress on and enter the river to bath. Now hindus and indians are a colorfully dressed lot as it is. But hindus always bring orange carnations (flowers) for offerings. Either in looped ropes, wreaths, or just hand fulls of the petals themselves. The river and shore line is covered in streams of orange flower petals. they also set afloat banana leaf bowls filled with the petals and small prayer candels in the middle. So through out the day and night you see these little lite prayers making they're way down the Ganges.

On the river itself are dozens of rowboats ferrying about a few tourists but mainly hindus chanting, playing drums and feeding the masses of seagulls flying above the bigger boats. the ghats up and down are lined also with small herds of wild "holy" cows, sheperded Water buffalo and the lovelt pies they leave behind "Which one fella pointed at as a buffalo let loose and said 'is good luck my friend" alongside the cows and black water buffalo are many nibblin goats and terretorial ribbey dogs. you share the walks and the streets with all these guysas well or you make way for them occasionally. WE had a few buffalo go on a stampede right through the ghats when we were there. fortunatly no one was hurt miraculously.

There are also hundreds of people out washing and beating theyre cloths on the rocks out in the river. the shore lines and the ghats are lined with thousands of pairs of trousers, saris, white shirts, and everything and anything that needs to be washed. So though the color might be washed out of the older buildings. the Ghats are awash in color everywhere you turn. But it is a very holy place, so cameras can be a touchy issue and drawing as I would find out. But the color that sticks out the most is orange. And not because of the flower carnations everywhere. Sadus (holy men that have given up all possesion including family for a life of worship and begging) flock to varanasi in mass.

Sadu are a alike yet all different as well. they all wear orange and all have long hair more often then not in long dreadlocks that hang to they're waist. They also have long beards. Some well kept and groomed and others not so much so. The majority of them have painted faces of white, yellow, or orange with big colorful tikas marking they're Hindu denomination and even the caste they were born to. A lot can be read from the tika marked fore head. And I would say a quarter of the Sadu of the hundreds that were there. Walked around completly naked. Though they're bodies were were covered in ash top to bottom, that they would rub all over themselves. So they had a ghostly white appearance, naked, with long dread locks and a matching beard with painted faces. They were a sight to see. I actually sat in a tent with a few sadus and shared tea and biscuits with them for a morning breakfast. And they just sat there stark naked with not a care in the wold about it. To be honest I was pefectly comfortable with it as well. Sadus are also all peaceful, happy, and generaly very nice. Though they also all smoke out of a chillum all day. A really big pipe that they fill with opium and hash to reach spiritual enlightment. So you walk by these many, many colorful tents to see stoned naked sadus (laughing) as well as more then quite a few tavellers dressed and living the life of a stoned Sadu searhing for inner peace....Not my calling I guess.

Yes. Varanasi a colorful place where you are hip deep in the most intimate acts of Hinduism. There are two last acts of hindus in passing. The last they will make or they're family will make for them in this life.....Well if your Hindu, you'll go through this act many times I guess. As they are reincarnated from life to another better or pooer depending on the actions of this life. Any how, That last act takes place down at the burning ghats or out in the river itself. All hindus are cremated and along the Ganges in Varanasi. They follow tradition the same they have for hundreds of years back. Which is cremating those who have passed on alter like pyres of wood right out in the open next to the holy river Gonga. All day every day you watch as they chant while carrying down bamboo stretchers of the dead to the river. It is said to be cremated along the Ganges brings better luck in the next life and wipes away the sins of your past life. So many come here to be cremated. In fact the city can be over run with the sick and those on they're final legs of life. On average between the two main ghats there are 300 cremations each day.

The bodies are carried by family down to the river. (Just Men you hardly see any women at the burning ghats) they then wash the body(which is drapped in a orange Sari and ropes of orange carnations)The blanket is folded back to expose the face and the bamboo stretcher and body are prayed over as they lay out in the river and under water. There they sit till the pyre is ready. One street in from the Ghats and the river are companys that sell and split wood for the pyres. There are stacks of wood two stories tall everywhere, narrow corridors that are a maze of stacked wood. Sandal wood is the most prized and most expensive. But they weigh it all out exactly to be as economical as possible about it.

Once the pyre is ready they place the body on top. The orange Sari is removed and all the flower carnations are nibbled on by goats that are constantly shooed away by family, though all to no avail. The body itself underneath is wrapped in white linen (kind of like a mummy). It is then placed on top of the pyre with more wood stacked on top, only the feet and and head stick out on each end of the rectangular shaped pyre, From there a holy man prays a certain hindu prayer and does it with a burning brand of grass, circling the body seven times with the four to five pall bearers closely in tow chanting the same prayer. And finally the pyre is set alight.

The pyres burn for a good three to four hours. With family and many hindus standing or sitting closely watching. Strangely there is really no sorrow, sadness, or crying. In fact I never saw any one cry except for a few women in town sitting and waiting in a jeep. But that was different. They stand right in the smoke...well actually it's in escapable. you walk through it all day and even eat lunch to the smells of it. It didn't smell any different to me. Just another fire except the smoke is a bit denser and blacker. And every pyre has a professional fire tender. A man dressed in creamy white robes and a white turban usually. I never knew there was a profession as a professional fire tenderer. But if there was ever a call for one, this was surely it. They have a long bamboo stick that they use to tend the fire with, and shift the body around to. Always above the hottest point of the fire. they occasionally throw on a few more pieces of wood when needed. The last act of the burning pyre is to puncture in the skull with the bamboo pole to release the soul into nirvava.

I have always had a fear or burnt or burning bodies. So it took some time for me to get used to. Especially seeing hundreds of them each day. But for the hindus it is a part of life and the last act in this life. On my last night I sat and watched one up close for about an hour. A father and his two sons came and sat with me and shared companionable conversation for awhile. It was a moment of bittersweet calm. I don't know how. But there was a sense of peace to be found in it all.

The next day though over breakfast me and Eric watched as a row boat rowed a smaller orange Sari clad body out into the river with what looked like a father and son. When they reached the middle of the river, they pushed the body over the edge of the boat. One moment it was they're and the next it was gone. Weighted down with rocks it went to the bottom of the holy Ganges. If you die under the age of eighteen you are just put into the river. So this was some one who died young. Thus the jeep of weeping women. It was a hard thing to see. You watch with horror and fascination at the same time. And after you really don't know what to make of it. it just leaves you wih an empty feeling.

Which brings up one last view on Varanasi and the Holy Ganges river. All the ashes from the cremated bodies are swept and carried into the river. (Where in the morning you can see men sifting through the muddy waters looking for gold or jewelry) As well, many bodies are put into the river. Many of which resurface on the banks or can just be seen floating down river. Cows (which are holy) are also put in the river. So you see handfuls of them floating down the river every day. Also all the citys sewage is put right into the river untreated as well as most of the trash of the city. So here is a staggering statistic for you. Bathing water, not drinking water. needs to be under 500 parts bacteria per 100 ml of water (which is like one gulp). The Ganges has 1.5 million parts of Fecal Bacteria per 100 ml of water. But there they are out there. bathing in it, Swimming in it, brushing they're teeth with it.... I don't know what to tell you. I guess it's a step in faith. Make what you will of Varanasi. For me, ...... I loved it.

From the bottom to the top with some islands inbetween

Time to recap in a quick and fashionable way, of the last weeks from South India, to the Andamans, and into the chaos of Calcutta. We left Varcala to go to the southern most point of India on a packed 3 hour comuter train to Kanyukamari. A city at the tip of southern India. the southern most point on the Indian continent where three bodies of water meet. (the Bay of Bengal, The Arabian Sea, and the Indian Ocean) It is also a place where you can watch the sun rise and fall on the oceans and if you time it right. Watch the sun setting on the ocean with a full moon rising at the same time, also on the ocean. It is also a pilgrimmage point of many Hindus for worship. All this sounds very romantic and fairytale like. We arrived and ran right back out as soon as we could the next morning on the first bus we could book. Kanyukamri was.....well it seemed to be bursting at the seams with everything that you shake your Head at india about. So tucking our tails between our legs, plugging our noses, and clutching our purses close. We caught a bus north to Madurai.

Madurai, is a city well known for its gated temple gates. The city is an easy one to pass on. But one photo briefly glanced in any book of the Temple. Is enough to draw you there in Wonder. I didn't actually think I would make it there to see the Temples. So it was anice little suprise thrown into the bag. The temples themselves are 10 story gates in the shape of Mayan pyramids. But are covered top to bottom in thousands and thousands of life size figures, gods, and Hindu dieties. All very colorful and sculpted in good historical fashion. There are four of these gates and four more half the size in the Interior. The temple complex within is also a great opportunity to watch thousands of hindus in the acts of worship and offerings. This part of Madurai was a great inside look to the Hindu Culture as well as the masterful craft of the eight temple gates. the part of Madurai that didn't go over so well was the three of us having to cancel our bus tickets out. Ten minutes before we were supposed to leave. For reasons of the three of us fighting over one bathroom for the next two days. All night and all day. We dropped like flys one by one. Though we did upgrade right before to a better hotel with a nice bathroom and HBO. Where we all layed and recooperated fror an extra 3 days before buying a ticket to pondicherry.

Pondicherry is a formal french Colony on the East coast of India. It is a clean town that actually had street sweepers and garbage cans. Most of the houses in the french quarter are all in A french colonial style. With colorful streets and flowers hanging everywhere. the french Cuisine was particularly great. Especially the desserts. But we soon bought a taxi for a three hour road trip to Chennai (Formally Madras) India's fifth largest city. But nothing worth really seeing other then some american fast food and a movie. the next morning we caught a two hour flight to the Andaman islands.

the Aandaman islands are a few hundred nautical miles off the coast of eastern India. And are closer in relation to the coast of Burma then to India. They are a series of a few hundred islands stretching north and south for about five hundred kilometers. We flew into Port blair on big Andaman and the home of one of my favorite travelling songs by Jack Johnson called "Holes to heavan." I had always wanted to know where in the world that song took place. It had inspired me on many days out painting in the hot summer. And served as a reminder of why I loved travelling the third world. So It was a nice little suprise to know we had found it. It then served as a reminder that I was indeed on the right road in life. The right place where God intends you to be and the fates find ways to pull you there inevitably. It is always a great feeling to know your exactly right where you are supposed to be. Evfen if that is on a tiny island on the other side of the world.

The Andamans were a real respite from the crowds, the horns, the exhaust, the yelling touts, the smell of urine and cow manure, and all our stomah and butt problems. We caught a four hour cock roach infested ferry out of Port Blair to Havelock island. Where we spent the next two weeks living a very simple life. The island is ringed in long quiet white sand beaches, simple bungalows, local food (grown and caught), falling coconuts, beer shortages, great swimming and snorkelling, and a great place to meet people from all over the world. Beth got her open water diving certification. Sadly me and Shell never went out diving (It was alittle outside our budget). But we definatly took advantage of time on the beach with reading, drawing, painting, and great snorkelling. The interior of the island was all small bamboo walled homes with palm thatched roofs and chickens running from children and water buffalo mozying ever so slowly through all the rice patties. We spent one week in a hut and the next week set up the tent and camped right on the tides. One of those nights, bribing a landowner at sun down to keep our tent from being thrown off the beach. But the power of a few rupees to grease the wheels always goes far. He left with a smile as did we. Setting off down the beach to find dinner. our last night on the island we closed down the bar with a Departure party and a few floor tables full of friends to see us off. Which they did...... at four in the morning. we caught a ferry back to Port Blair the next day and a flight out to Calcutta the following day.

In calcutta me and the sistes said our goodbyes. The two of them were picked up at the airport by the organization they are now volunteering for called "crawl". And from what I have heard since then some two weeks and more ago. Things are going great for them. And they are bringing a lot of love and care to India. And I think India has given them something back. They each have found there calling to be true. Michelle is teaching kids in the mornings and Beth is going out doing nursing work along the railways for the homeless. They each return to finish the little school they have left after this. I think it has refueled they're spirit and reason to continue with the occupations they have chosen. ....Well with our back packs on, we awkwardly hugged good bye and walked off through the crowds. Each in pursuit of different dreams. Mine to finally travel alone for the first time. Something I have sought for ten years. And time is running short. So day one began without a hitch. Strangely day one of travelling alone also marked one day past the longest I had ever travelled abroad or been away from home before. So a day to be marked, happy, and thank full for for multiple reasons.

Calcutta was..........definatly poor but not as bad as I imagined, though I was sheltered in Sutter street the whole time. I met new friends and stayed at the Salvation Army Hostel. It looked more like a turkish prison then a hostel, but it was cheap and right in the middle of things. It definatly scored the award of the worst bathroom I have ever had to use for multiple days....A real winner! There isn't to much to report about Calcutta other then I got some good books, resupplied on pens and a few other items. Burned some cds of photos and uploaded them all. Ate lots of Indian cuisine, found a great street stall that sold chapati roll ups, and ended up at Calcuttas railway station to catch a train with to Varanasi.

Exodus is the only word that comes to mind. that and Chaos. The train station lived upto what you imagine a train station to be like in Calcutta or Just India for that matter. me and this Swedish Guy Eric pushed our way through the tens of thousands of frantic milling masses out to the train platform. The train was two hours late. So for two hours we watched the chaos of the daily commute unfold. There was a constant cloud of dust in the air from all the thousands and thousands of shuffeling feet. It was a nightmare but it was a facisinating nightmare to watch. All I could do was stand tall above it all and watch with a smile as indians jumped to and from moving trians and pushed and shoved and screamed and spit and stared and fought to go from one place to another. Staring is a common thing in india but when you are stared at by thousands and thousands of passing indians, it falls into a category all its own. Add on the egg sized cockroaches scurrying in and about it all as well as all the rats slinking in and out of shadows.....It sounds terrible and it was but I loved it for being what it was. I think I finally gave in and accepted India for all it is and can be on platform 12 that night.

The back waters of Kerala

In coming to India and the little research I did. One of the things that I saw that really found a place in my imagination was the back waters of Kerala. An area along the coast of Kaerala India that is known as the Venice of India. What was a mass of back waters and swamps has been turned into a huge system of Canals. The canals are all buried away in the country and there are no real cities to speak of other then the port and colonial city of Cochin that we spent 3 days in before departing on a 2 day voyage into the canals themselves for Beths birthday.

The experience of boating up the canals felt like something off the travel channel or National Geographic. You just had to be there. The boats themselves are like something out of a science fiction novel. The hulls are massive wooden forms that look like an old Viking ship. But the shell of Bamboo and palm above is what gives it it's real character. They reminded me of bamboo conche shells or something. The roofs were rounded like a long oval dome of woven mat with glass paneled windows along the sides and sharp peaks at the front and along the tops. The boats were very nice. Bedrooms with a view and the nicest bathroom I have had in India in six weeks. We had a crew of 3. The caiptain, Engineer, and a great chef. All of them old weathered men of the sea. This was they're life. The food was great. Huge cusine meals served on the foredeck. Where we spent the majority of our days. And snacks of fresh fruit or fried bananas all day long. Hot Tea or coffee. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

We had the crew fill up the ice cooler with beer before we set out on our grand voyage. And the majority of our time was spent with our feet kicked up in our three whicker coushined captains chairs. Enjoying mugs of cold beer, Good music to our choosing, and the sights only the canals can offer. I remember standing up in front of the girls with a beer in one hand and a cuban cigar in the other. While doing an impression of half the people we talked to back home. "Why in Gods name would you want to go to India!" and gesturing around at all the beauty around us. We all had a good laugh. I had so many of those moments with a smile ear to ear listening to Marvin Gaye or Van Morrison and feeling so alive and loving every moment big and small to bursting.

The sights of the canal life in itself were unbelievable. The whole trip was worth just those two days. Life on the canal is just like life anywhere else. But all old school. There are no roads to speak of. The canals are the roads. You have bus stops with longer wooden boats that transport people up and down the river. Or smaller canoes that just ferry from one side of the canal to the other. There are many other whicker house boats like the ones we were on, small fishing boats, and people just canoing from place to place. Old churches stood along the banks. Fisherman wading through the water fishing for freshwater shrimp (they are the size of small lobster). The canal walls are just placed stones and the water level is a few feet higher then all the land on the other side. It's a strange feeling when your scooting along on the river above everything else. It's usually the other way around.

Most of the inland land is green rice fields with thousands of White Egret's flying about in huge waves of white or eating here and there. The birds were a thing to see in themselves. Hundreds of cormarnts flying just a hand span above the water and thousands and thousands of some kind of bird migrating high above us in the biggest "V" pattern I have ever seen. There was also ship yards and house boats being built. There was a small check on the list of life made as well. Scores of huge fruit bats (the size of a hawk) were flying above as well. They fly during the day instead of at night. Which is really cool to see. They have the perfect bat shape,,,except that they are like 2 and ahalf feet from wing tip to wing tip. A bit creepy. they're so big they just glide and flap they're wings really slowly. But I've always wanted to see them and have had my eyes out since I got to India. We also watched a duck round up (for eating) and a thousand other things pass by. I wore Grandpa's hat that grandama gave me. I thought a lot about him. It was after all his birthday and he spent a lot of time on house boats. I told the boat caiptain a few stories of home and the lakes where we live as well as stories of Grandpa.

The canals brach off in countless directions big and small. With small foot bridges arched over some. And every where floating up and down by itself or in huge groups. Is this fresh water plant that has no roots. There are all these round green air sacks to keep it afloat with wispy green algae dragging underneath and violet flowers and bright green leaves above. The canal walls are bordered by tall palm trees up and down the canals. But all the water is fresh water. Like I said. Something you just have to see. Childeren waiting for the school bus boat to pick them up, women washing cloths in the water, people washing themselves in the water.......India in a way I never imagined.

We camped the boat in the middle of a huge lake for the night. Having a feast of a dinner. Singing happy birthday to Beth and even eating cake. Watching the sun set and rise the next morning but with a hot coffee instead of a cold beer. We sat late into the night listening to music, smoking cigars, and loving life. It was a great day to be. One I never saw myself in. I wonder how many more await around the corner. And it definatly wet my appetite for crewing a sailboat some time down the line. To leave land behind for awhile and embrace life in a different manner. Well it is time for dinner. We are in Valcara India. A coastal town with great swimming on the beaches below and everything as far as restaurants and shops are all along the cliffs above where I am now with a great view of the ocean. The sea food selection here is huge. And at night the sea is lite up with hundreds of little lights from all the fishermans boats. Its looks like the night sky. It is an amazing sight. In two days we will be at the southern most point of India. The tip where three bodies of water meet and you can watch the sun rise and fall on the ocean. Last thoughts before dinner. HAppy Birthday Beth. Happy Birthday Grandpa Joe.

Hampi and travels with Wilber into the temple of Shiva

Hampi...A place (A deserted ancient city) buried out in a desert of rocks, rocks, and rocks unlike any place in the world I have ever seen. A place buried in the desert that seems to exist outside the laws and bounds of relative theory. There is a feeling of it being gods first sketches of the world as we know it or perhaps we found the notes that were crumpled and tossed away. A place of India far beyond Newtons theory of gravity or maybe just maybe a small area in the desert where giants like those in childrens tales once lived to decorate the landscape with thier own imaginations. Rearanging it all to the way they saw fit. Like a toddler placind building blocks just so, One on top of the other. It is just one more place on the globe. Yet it was unlike any place I have ever seen. A place of Natural history and of ancient history. One more memory to recall some distant days from now. Maybe one of those days I can figure out how or why. In the short few days I was there I felt like I hardly skimmed the surface. There was just to much to wrap hardly even a thread of thought and understanding around. Like so many things and so many places in life.

Hampi. Hampi is just another spot on the map. Another speck hidden away out in the desert. But is a piece of desert unlike any I have ever seen. In a small way it reminded me of Tatooine in Star Wars. You would look off into the desert and see these small white domed buildings thgat looked like Uncle Owens and Aunt Veru's. (Yes I am a geek) But the Natural rock formations there were the most unnatural formations I have ever seen. If that makes any sense. You'll walk out into these wide open area's of slab rock a few city blocks in size. And sitting out on them all by themselves are these massive smooth red boulders as big as houses with other boulders as big as cars balanced precariously on top of those. I think I shot more photos of rock formations then I did of all the ruins.

There are piles of these rocks that make up small mountains. It'll be just desert one moment and then a huge pile of these boulders with an old ruin or two peeking out the next. And on top of most of those rocks are other smaller or even bigger rocks balanced. Some of them look like jig saw puzzles. Every corner and seam fitting just so. All in all it looks like everything was placed somewhere by somebody. But nobody could due to the sheer size of all the rocks. To say a little it is a sight to see. I spent most of my days there just staring at rocks. You would look from your feet all the way out to the horizon at sights and shapes that do not exist in the natural world.
Hampi. Hampi is also a massive city that was once an empire spread out over many kilometers in every direction you can throw a stone in the desert. From vantage points you could see ruins and temples peeking out in every direction. from horizon to horizon. And 90 percent of it is free. You pack a day bag with plenty of water. Pick a direction and just walk and explore ruins to your hearts content. Some excavated, some in the process of being dug out and excavated, and being swallowed by the desert with walls, domes, columns, towers, statues, temples, and palaces sticking out here and there. I walked for 3 days as far as I could up and down the river and into the desert and hardly scratched the surface. It was big enough that at most ruins your feet could carry you to, It was just you and the desert. Hampi in it's sheer size and for how much was preserved by the heat and the desert is awe inspiring in itself. It is a place full of imagination in every sense.

Two things that I recall quickly are two seperate ruin sites on two different sides of the desert. One was the elephant stables. they were 12 all next to one another in a long line half a city block long. But they were these beautiful buildings with high archways and a different shaped dome adorned the top of each Stable. And running along the front were all these reliefs of elephants walking trunk and tail with fluted gutters of stone and arabian windows. I just love the idea of ancient elephant stables. Or even just the fact that there were royal elephants for that matter.

The second thing was like something out of the Temple of Doom. I walked into this walled in ruin site to the hindu god Shiva. So your basically walking into this little ancient stone city all by your lonesome. With all its rooms, gallerys, hallways and.....dungeons open to the public. So I walk in by my lonesome ( Michelle and Beth went out biking with some friends) and this lone Gaurd starts to follow me around the ruins. He's just an old grey and weathered codger with crows feet on the sides of his yellow eyes and curled withered hands that are all knuckles. I know he's looking to make a few rupies on the side but I'm looking to keep the few I have. So I loose him behind one of the temples as I'm looking to keep enjoying the day alone and the quiet only the desert or deep winter nights can provide. I mosey about a few different buildings and smaller temples thinking I got better luck then I have in the past with other ruppee seeking gaurds or guides. Until I walk into another temple and there he is standing in the Dark shadow of a deep doorway with a lite candel. And I just stop and stare at him as he stares right back, until he motions me to come over to him. There was a moment where I thought that it might be a bad idea and how I wanted to save my few ruppees for a cool drink but the boyish side of me that used to play out in the woods and imagine all kinds of adventures couldn't resist.

I walked over to the old shadow with a small tallow candle illuminating his face in the dark and reliefs of the god shiva fighting demons all over the wall behind him, as they seemed to be revieled momentarily before being swallowed by shadow again. He gestures with one old finger pointing down through a small passage way into the black below the temple. I remember looking from his old pointing fingers and back to his old desert colored eyes a few times before nodding once and without a word ever spoken between either one of us he led away into the black below the desert and the temple of shiva. That small thin candel, no thicker or longer then my own pinky finger was the only small orb of light as we descended down and down into the dark.

We arrived in a hallway that ran around the base of the alter and temple below in a "u" shape. And he whispered in a voice as dry as the winds about things I couldn't understand do to the language barrier of hindi to english and I still don't know more then it was the temple to Shiva and to that extent and no more. There were all these reliefs chiseled in the stone those hundreds of years ago when Hampi was alive and thriving. Before the city mysteriously ghosted away into the desert to be forgotten for those hundreds of years till just the last century when it was found once more and dug up. the city remains but no history of why or how an empire as big as Hampi just dissapeared from memory and history... The reliefs were still covered with small specks of the paint that once adorned every mural. Along the base of the alter itself were images of Shiva and the people worshiping her and him. Shiva has many forms but the form of the warrior shiva was the one that was the most prevalent. Bodies of soliders and demons lay at shivas feet. So there I am with this small tallow candel and this old Indian raisin with our faces right next to each other to be able to see with this tiny candel all these ancient reliefs with him whispering in Hindu in the dark.

What I couldn't figure out for the first 5 minunutes was, "why is he whispering?" I mean we were the only ones on this site surrounded by miles of desert. I thought it added to the whole experience. There was a bit of reverance in those whispers like people do when they enter a church. But there was also a feeling of maybe he broke a few rules by leading me down here and doesn't want any one to know. All the while I've been digging around in my bag for this little handy lighter I had bought some weeks back. the fluid had run out long ago but it had a small LED flashlight built into the bottom of it. It wasn't until a moment before I found the little flashlight that I had a creepy theory on why he was whispering. I noticed a shape for a split second flash by the candel. And I would of thrown it off as my imagination if the candel flame hadn't a waved to the side as if caught by a small breeze or wind. And there was this odd chirping sound I would hear every so often.

Then at long last my fingers found the lighter. Flipping it around in my hand I turned the small slender beam of white light on. At first lighting up a mural of shiva sticking a lance through some poor soliders heart. And then there was that "chirp!" sound again. Not loud but close. I slowly raised the light up the side of a pillar to stop on three little bats that were hanging no more then a foot away from my face. But I Kept my cool and thought "Well that explains it there's a few bats in here!" But then I looked at them closer and realized the spot they were hanging on was really only big enough for three bats to hang out on. I scanned the flash light at the paved stones below my feet and saw not stone at all but ages and ages of bat Guano dried below my feet.

At this point my little old stooped over gaurd is standing shoulder to shoulder with me looking at the same thing. We both stop and stare at eachother for a long three seconds before I had to do the inevitable ...... Yes.....slowly that little shaking light worked its way up the wall and to the ceiling 3 feet above him and only a foot and a half above me. I didn't scream but I did freeze as my little lite started moving all around the ceiling illuminating thousands of little flying rats with wings and fangs. Thousands of little beedy black eyes that seemed to swallow my light just stared back. I don't know how long I was staring till I realized my guide was feebly pulling on my shirt to leave. I got dragged out looking at the ceiling with that weak little beam of light behind me as If I was covering our backs or something. Back and back and back up the hallway we went and not thousands but tens of thousands of little (cute!).....no Ravenouse.... hungry.... deadly..... crazy.... bloodthirsty....... BBAAAAAATTTTTTTTSSSSSSS ..... .... .. .. . eyes stared back at me till I was hauled out of the dungeeon by old wilber (I've decided to name him)

"Wilber!" I said, well not that part but the rest of it I did though. Clapping him on the right shoulder with my right hand. like a tearful moment of two friends parting. "You saved my life down there man!" He looked back at me the same way I had been looking at him in the dark. Neither one of us understanding a lick of hindi or english. "I don't know how i can ever repay you for such an act of bravery as that. I know....I tensed up...I didn't know what to do....How can I ever re...." Old Wilber stood there with a grin showing three old rotten teeth and a hand held out in that universal sign that isn't asking for a hand shake. I pursed my mouth a moment. He did save my life after all. For All I know I could still be standing there fozen in place staring up into the wings of death on that heaping pile of age old bat Guano. So I dug into a sweaty pocket filled with sand and fished out the only two bills I had in there. A 10 and a 100 rupee.

There I stood weighing the right thing to do. Each hand holding a bill. my head turning from side to side. Lookind back and fourtha nd back and fourth to the 10 in the one hand the 100 in the other. Decisions. Decisions. Wilbers head was not looking from hand to the next. just staring at the one hand holding the 100. "Wilber!" I said. "your a brave man and you deserve more then this. But seeing that my life just passed before 50,000 little eye's, I could really use a beer right now. And you could probably get the same for the local price around here with the 10 rupees!" I said handing over the ten and stuffing the 100 back into my dusty pockets and out of his sight. While guiltily shifting one foot back and forth under me. like I just got caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

Wilber looked at me with betrayed yellow eyes. And I stared back in a small moment of Anger for all the money I had given out over the weeks to so many. And all the other money I had lost to so many over priced rickshaws or ceramic elephants and the like. India could bleed a man from his life savings in a week if he wasn't careful. Dollar signs seemed to appear in every set of eyes I had seen since arriving those many weeks back. I had had enough of people looking for my rupees. I had to make a stand somewhere. Doing things out of the goodness of your heart never found a home in India. So there we stood on the steps of the temple shiva in an old fashioned Indian staring contest. I would like to say a bushel of sage blew between us as the time passed, but there is no sage in hampi just cactus...... hmmmm... So there we stood staring unblinking at one another while a cactus blew between us....Which is not an easy thing in India. Staring that is. Beacause every one stares at you all the time without looking away no matter how much you stare back. Inevitably they always win. But only by sheer numbers,,, I mean how do you win a staring contest with like fifty Indians when our on the bus, or at the bus station, or walking down the street, or at the restaurant, or just breathing for crying out loud....They like to stare. "It's rude to stare" has never exisited in the history of time in India as far as I am concerned. But I was not about to lose my staring contest with old wilber. And maybe he was a bit stooped foward with his poor old bent back. beat down over the years by the sun and such. But I swear those heavy lided yellow eyes just kept getting closer and closer and closer till he was practically right on top of me. ( which was impossible cause he's such little desert weathered ...... thing. but thts what it felt like) And then I noticed something.... he was smiling and so was I. He clapped me with one hand on the shoulder and sad something in hindi like "your all right in my book or your a cheap S.O.B." but said with a smile. We shook hands and I walked off into the desert once more toward the setting sun. With Wilber standing back on those steps, arms crossed with a small smile. people in passing. weather on a city street or in the middle of the desert. One small moment. One more person in passing. What impressions do we leave in those passings? When I look back on it all now, I would pay the 100 rupees just to know the thought behind that smile as I walked away.... ... .. .

The pied piper of dancing over the holidays

Our Christmas and New Years in Palolem goa and how I became the Pied piper!

We were lucky and blessed in one major respect while we christmased in Palolem in that we met a great group of people almost right from the get go. We Met Ty who brought the whole family together in a day. A canadian from Victoria British columbia as well as another fellow B.C. resident by the name of Richard (reminded us a bit of Ross from friends and our brother David) and they're was a british couple by the names of Jason and Kat from the U.k. as well as another counter part to our party Vince from France who always wore a white cotton shirt with only one button buttoned. The group of us would meet and have dinner together every night for a week and spent most of our days together as well scouting out distant beachs and the like. But for seven days and nights we and a few other friends (Natalia the beach flirt and Gian or as we referred to him as Jack Sparrow "Johnny Depp" because half the time you couldn't understand what he was saying) roamed the beaches at night in our own little pack or family.

Christmas Eve we ordered up to have a turkey cooked for us all at our favorite restaurant. And what came out....I guess was turkey but it looked more like a peacock to me. I said a blessing over the meal and our time together and then proceeced with the Cunningham tradition of cutting the turkey for everyone. A messy business especially if you saw the turkey but a necessary one made matters easier thanks to Dad knighting me only last year in the tradition of cutting and serving the turkey.

Some many drinks later we wandered down the beach to Cafe Del Mar (The local beach club/bar and were lucky enough to have a fire display for us and what turned out to be a hundred and more people watching by our very own Jason and Kat. Who happen to run a business back home setting up huge break beat parties, raves, and so on. but part of that Business is doing what they do as well. Kat brought out her fire poy and started spinning and dancing the Fire poy across the sands while the clubs music was blazing out into the night. (Fire poy are 2 chains 2 feet long with 2 balls that are sepped in parafin and set on fire on the end) - Large crowds gathered watching and cheering at what Jason called the "Sexiest thing in the world man!" This was soon followed by Jason breathing out 15 ft. bursts of flame into the night above and later juggling and hand juggling (Remember David Bowie with the crystal balls in the movie labryinth the same thing) But almost in a form of Dance. I don't know any other way to explain it but it looked just great. It was one of many great nights to come. But made for a very interesting christmas eve.

Christams day started with an early christmas breakfast before leaving on a package deal to take a tour out into the Jungle and go Canyoning. And lots of cliff diving into a cool clean river below. Jumping from waterfalls and Belaying down on climbing ropes next to one while climbing up on harness and ropes on others. I never thought to be jumping off 30 ft. ledges for christmas. A fuuny thing happened that day. When we got back to the Jeep Jason picked up this beautiful butterfly with a slightly injured wing. It stood there on his finger as he held it up for us to look at. It really was beautiful. And then it flew away from him as gracefully as butterflys fly and right when Jason said "fly free little fella" it drifted right down into this pond and in a second was eaten by like 5 frogs. A moment of terror, Violence, and horror as everyone simultaneously took a step back and went AAAuuuoooooowww!!!!

We all returned in our safari cruiser and headed over to the cool breeze restaurant for burgers and a beer before splitting up for naps and then meeting for dinner. Michelle, Beth, and I returned to our bungalow porch under the shade of palms and surrounded by smooth sand to open our christmas presents that Beth had brought us from home. Three cloth Santa sacks that mom had sowed for us for christmas. All containing our presents from home. Mine had star wars prints all over it.....very cool. But I am under the impression that everyone back home thinks I have a severe hygene problem.....(which I might seeing that I have a mystery rash spreading right now....but thats a different story) My presents consisted of New underwear, new socks, q-tips, 1 new tooth brush, a whole kit that included shampoo, conditioner, apricot scrub, chapstick, tinactin for athletes foot, and a nail clipper, 3 packs of gum, as well as not 1 but 4 packages of travel wet wipes.... I do admit to having a habit of dubious hygene but come on now. I also got food - snacks - and candy from home as well as nice cards and donations from A&J painting to cover the holiday expenses and more. As well as compensations from Mom to pay for our meal. The rest of the meal money we donated as a christmas present to cover half of the groups meal costs. It is after all the season of giving. But we loved all the presents though michelle was a bit miffed about getting some femenine wipes as well. The Gummi lifesavors were a small piece of heavan. And Jenny's after bite has been a saving grace the last week. thank you all. As well as Cousin Dan , Leah , Casey , and uncle Pat for donating me " A New Computer!!!!" for crying out loud....that's a lot Of I owe you's!!!

We had booked Christmas dinner at the swankiest restauraunt on the beach. Everyone arrived at 7:30 for a seafood feast and front row seats on the deck beachside for cocktails sipped out of cocunuts, grilled Tiger prawns, And a few snacks with water and rounds of beer all around. Dinner came on a platter of leaves with stuffed crab, breaded crab, lobster, A kingfish steak, mussels, Squid, fresh bread, rice pilaf, and fresh pineapple with white wine. Dinner was followed by coffie liquers and chocolate cake as we lounged into the night sipping on drinks and watching fire works illuminate the beach up and down. We followed the night up with some sheesha (Tobacco from a huka) and drinks till 5 a.m. at Cafe Del Mar. Over many stories and belly renching laughs all night long. We celebrated christmas till 5 a.m. I finished the night and ran out for a swim and some prayer time in the rolling waves before falling into a good sleep and the end of christmas. A few days later all of the group "family" left save us. Moving onto other places in India, or to Singapore, or back to B.C. A sad day.

New years though was a blast in every way that I wanted a new years on the beach to be. We had met Dom and Kay a young british couple the day before having dinner under a massive banyon tree. We took in another Dinner of good Pasta and olive cheese bread with plenty of cool drinks while curling your toes in the sand over dinner. The beach was packed. At least three times more then what we had seen over christmas. Returning toward cafe Del Mar we sat on the beach having Gin and sprites before elbowing our way deep into the crowds for the new year to begin. Thousands of people crowded out of Cafe Del Mar onto the beach all the way to the tides. Fire works were flying up in the hundreds up and down the beach.

When the clock ticked into the new year we were standing out on the beach in front of Cafe del Mar with literally a few thousand and more people screaming and jumping up and down on the beach. And in good India fashion this happened not once but three times. So much for the times square countdown. The whole stretch of beach and a few dozen palm trees are wrapped in christmas lights. But The beach was busy and the skies were lite up all night with the celebrations of Fireworks. We danced on the beach from party to beach party up and down and all around. Around 5 or 6 I found my bed and set my weary legs to sleep. But it was a great night, with great dancing, resting by huge bon fires with people dancing shadows around it, and several times I just stripped down to my skivvies and ran out into the ocean for a swim to cool down. Neeedless to say I was a sand box by the time I went to bed. But what a night! A night to remember!

O ya, and the strangest thing happened. Where ever on the beach at any time of the night that I would start dancing. The local Indian guys would rally around me. It was the craziest thing. I would just start dancing and suddenly there would be anywhere from 2 to 30 (literally) guys dancing and hopping up and down around me or copying me. I mean at one point I was so sick of dancing with or for all these guys that I walked a ways down the beach away from any party and just started dancing along the tide line alone and within 2 minutes all these guys ran upto me and started dancing with me. It was like I was the pied piper of indians or something.

There was one point where I was dancing in a huge circle in the sand with a few hundred people watching and another 30 or 40 guys following me and dancing around the circle with me copying every hippie move I could throw out there. So it turned into like a huge hippie mosh pit with me running in circles flying through the air in a drunken stupor with another thirty guys trying to do the same thing....you have no idea. Well the numbers just started getting out of hand with how many indian guys were streaming in to dance ( I can already hear the comments coming out of Reondos mouth...) And they all just started jumping up and down around me swinging shirts and going into a frenzy like I had just scored a goal for the national team or something... GGGGOOOOAAALLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!! before beth and michelle came running and grabbed me and just screamed run......Ya......so we did,,,,,, till we got down to the next beach party and the whole process would start over again.

Most of the time Beth and Shell just stood back in hysterics telling me I had a fan club. It in a small way reminds me of a very Napolean Dynamite moment for me when I was in high school dancing alone on a stage in front of a couple thousand brothers and sisters who were all on they're feet screaming and clapping like I was Sammy Davis Junior or something. I only have Reondo's eyes to witness my one moment of Glory! But for days and weeks after kids would come up and say "HEY your that dancing white dude!" It was the same all over again in India I have no idea how manys hundereds of hands I shook (Vigouresly) or hugged over the course of the night. Well i guess there was a lot of love though and still reminiscent of back home. the last two days guys in town will recognize me and run for another handshake and say "hey, remember me!" and start dancing a little indian Jig. Craziness.....India...I tell you craziness. I guess I'm the pied piper of Dancing..To bad it only seems to draw young brown clean Indian boys. If only
all that could have worked with the chicks in the clubs back home man. Maybe some day. Happy new years....I love you all -Jeremy.