Namaskaram,

I hope life is well with you. Currently in the deep south of India, in the State of Tamil Nadu, a sweltering but beautiful paradise. In my previous blog, I left off on the beginning of my train ride from Ujjain to Sevagram, and since then, a lot of good times have been had, and a lot of new experiences...experienced. The ride from Ujjain to Sevagram (total time about 16 hours) was relatively boring and uneventful, seeing as it was mostly a night ride. I left Ujjain at about 7pm, and arrived in Bhopal, which has an enormous train station, at about 12 with a 3+ hour layover. The station had decent indoor waiting rooms for reserved tickets, which was a welcome relief as I didn't really want to sit outdoors on the dirty ground, close to the train smog and feces stench that lined the tracks. I sat inside the waiting room for a good 3 hours, surrounded by sleeping bodies laid out all over the floor, alternating between reading, eating greasy train station snacks (impossible to find something not made of pure sugar and fat), and talking with random people, such as a large group of competitive Wushu martial arts students from Karnataka, who had just come back from a San Shou competition, some having won gold medals as well as some sore losers. I also met a young man who had an interview in the morning at the train station, and had to spend the next 8 hours in the fanless waiting room awaiting his interview. I also served as a temporary bathroom attendant, as the man in charge of admitting people to use the toilet (cost, 3 rupees), was asleep the entire time, and since I was in closest proximity, I decided the next 3 hours would be a free for all on the facilities, so I waved people through. I boarded the 9 hour ride to Sevagram at about 4 am, and luckily no one had taken my seat/bed, so I loaded up, and immediately fell asleep, though only for around 2-3 hours unfortunately. The ride was pretty uneventful, and the views from the train less than spectacular, but it was a decent enough ride. We pulled into the tiny Sevagram station at about 12:00, where the crowd of autorickshaw drivers were waiting like a hungry pack of lions. Sevagram was the place where Gandhi's main ashram was situated back before his assassination, and what now remains is supposedly a cross between a museum, and a self-sufficient agricultural community. More interesting though (or so I thought), was a tiny village a few km down the road called Paunar, where you could stay for free in exchange for doing a few hours of communal work a day, such as spinning, dairy farming, and organic gardening, at their ashram, something which I thought would be a neat experience. I went to the Paunar ashram and arrived at about 12:30, only to be greeted by a closed front gate, with a sign reading "closed 12-2". Luckily there was a shaded area to sit, so I sat patiently, watching the many people tilling the fields, herding goats, and bathing in the small river the ashram was situated on. When 2:00 rolled around, I ambled into the ashram, only to be greeted by an Indian woman in her 70s, who demanded to know what I wanted. After telling her I wished to stay, she said she'd have to check with another person and get back to me. I then ended up talking to about 6 different ancient Indian women, one seemingly higher up in authority than the next, and I soon began to realize that this place was almost exclusively for elderly women, save for about 3 old men who lived there, which came as a bit of a surprise. I had originally asked if I could stay for a week, as that had been the time set aside for my next train ride to Chennai, but the lady said 3 days was the maximum, so she showed me to my room, which I was to share with an unfriendly 60 year old Indian man. The facilities were the most primitive I'd seen, with only one working water tap, and only a small hole in the side of the wall for a drain. After having been on trains and stations for the last 16 hours, I was tired, hungry, and dirty, and all I wanted to do was bathe and take a nap, but it didn't look like it was going to happen with the old man lingering around, and no privacy to be had. I couldn't help but feel out of place, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized this was most likely going to be an uncomfortable 3 days, and honestly just didn't feel like dealing with it, so I grabbed my stuff, and basically just left after having been there for only 20 minutes. Now normally I'm open to new things and experiences, but I just wasn't in the mood, and figured I'd go see what else there was in the small middle of nowhere town. Turns out there was nothing, not even a hotel to stay at, so after much confusion with a rickshaw driver that happened upon me wandering from the ashram through the rural dirt roads, I told him to just take me back to the train station. I honestly had no clue what I was going to do, but luckily a very nice Sikh man who spoke good English helped me to get a ticket that evening for Chennai, and I only ended up having to wait about an hour in the station. He sat with me and we spoke a lot about philosophy and spirituality, and he seemed like a pretty wise soul. He recommended me a nice place to go near Amritsar, where a large Hindu/Sikh ashram is situated, and gave me a book by the guru, which was pretty well written, so it's something to consider on my way to the Himalayas next summer. The train arrived on time at about 7pm (deja vu), and I spent the next 19 hours on a ride straight from Sevagram to Chennai. By this time I was exhausted, so I spent the next 12 hours lying down on my train bed, waking up semi-refreshed, as well as about 800 miles away from where I started from 24 hours ago. The countryside view was pretty nice, though the vast rows of palms and palm thatched huts got a bit old after awhile. The presence of men wearing dhotis (cloths wrapped around the waist that resemble skirts) was very widespread, and the general skin tone of the people seemed significantly darker than what I had seen in Central and Northern India. The ride was pretty uneventful, and I kept to myself mostly as I felt pretty dirty and kind of crappy after having not had a decent meal in 36 hours, save little train stop snacks, which my body did not seem to appreciate. I did meet one nice man from a small city called Vellore near Chennai, who said he was a Christian minister and talked to me about Christianity for a long time and invited me to stay in his home in Vellore and gave me his mobile number. He said once we got off the train, he'd help me get to the bus station and on my way Tiruvannamalai (my next destination), but by the time we arrived, he had disappeared, so I just decided I'd spend the day/night in Chennai to get my head together, get cleaned up, and get some rest and a decent meal. We pulled into the Chennai station at around 1:00, and it was intimidating to say the least. Chennai/Madras is the 4th largest city in India, and the train station (which is one of at least 7 throughout the city) seemed to have everything, including a hotel, fancy restaurants, fancy souveneir shops, and enormous ticket offices and information centres. The level of development here far surpassed anything I had seen in India, though I can't say it was necessarily a welcome change. Chennai had no real appeal for me, as it was just a passing through point on my way to the city of Tiruvannamalai, which was a 4 hour bus ride west. I took a taxi about 15 km into town near the main bus stand to find a guesthouse nearby, so I wouldn't have any worries in the morning when I decided to depart. The driver (like most in the other big cities), tried to set me up at different hotels, all of which charged exorbitant amounts for meager accommodation, as well as offering to drive me then and there for a one-time price of 3000 rupees (an enormous ripoff). After tons of heated bargaining and about 4 different tries, I finally settled in on a place in a back alley which charged 600 rupees (about $15) per night, which by Indian standards is quite pricey, though for a big city isn't too bad. The owner first tried to give me a room without a fan (which would've been unbearable), then one without a working toilet, but having learned some street smarts these last couple months, I got him to give me a decent room at a discount from what he was asking (700) after a lot of arguing. We didn't seem like we were on very friendly terms after all of the haggling as was evident in our subsequent encounters, but you've gotta do what you've gotta do in this country. I decided first thing to walk to the bus stand to reserve my ticket for the morning, so I walked through the incredibly noisy and polluted city, along 6-lane highways (which were used more like 12-lane highways as only Indians seem to be able to pull off), with an actual traffic light every 1km or so, which was pretty amazing (though more like a suggestion than an order to stop). There were also gigantic billboards advertising expensive electronics, huge high rise hotels/apartments and business buildings, and a lot of well dressed businessmen walking the streets. I found the bus station without too much trouble, and it, like the train station, was incredibly intimidating, with literally hundreds of buses going all over India, as well as all kinds of souveneir shops, restaurants, a dormitory, and a barbershop among other things. After some asking around, I found where I needed to go, and they just told me to come back tomorrow whenever I wanted, as buses leave every half hour, and no reservation was required, which was nice. I stopped at a fairly fancy hotel restaurant on the way back (costing a fortune at $2.50 for a meal), where three well-dressed waiters hung over me, and insisted on serving and dishing out my food for me the entire time, which was courteous, but geez. Then I went and found an internet cafe down some alleyway, as well as, incredibly, a "supermarket", which was nothing compared to anything in the US, but was still a site to see and had some difficult to locate goods such as bread, jam, and peanut butter. After this I went back to the hotel for a bit, then went and got some dinner at a nearby restaurant, where the people practically dragged me in off the streets, begging me to eat there, crowding around me and trying to get me to order all kinds of things I didn't want. After repeating my order about 4 different times to the overly eager group of people, they still managed to get it completely wrong, but I just ate what they gave me, and upon receiving the check, noticed they were trying to charge me for all kinds of extra things, so after a long argument, I paid my fair price for what I didn't order and left. That night I held a remote control and watched some TV for the first time since I've been here (not much on, though I watched a bit of "Misery", which came on an American movie channel), then had a nice sleep in my big comfortable (again, by Indian standards, meaning a mattress of about 4 inches thickness) bed. In the morning I took a hot shower for the first time since leaving the US, and generally felt like a self-indulgent American pig wallowing in excess after weeks of fairly simple (at least for me) living, but I must admit it was nice. I took a rickshaw to the bus station, found my bus right away, and 15 minutes later I was leaving the hustle and bustle of Chennai, which I can't say had much to offer from what I saw, but of course I can't say I gave it too much chance. The bus ride to Tiruvannamalai wasn't horrible, but certainly wasn't fun either. It was a bit more luxurious than the Rishikesh to Haridwar bus, and actually had a DVD player with an incredibly loud speaker system blasting Bollywood movies, which I tried my best to ignore for the duration of the bumpy ride. I sat next to a medical student from Tiru (the abbreviation locals use for the town, and which I will as well, seeing as it's a lot to type), who was going to attend Med School in Australia the next year. He told me some good places to see, and also told me to be careful of cheaters, of which there were many in the city. It's funny, Indians always seem tell you to never trust other Indians, and there seems to be quite a large level of distrust among different groups. The ride only ended up costing 60 rupees ($1.50) for a 200km journey, which was pretty reasonable, but all along the way, people kept piling on, and by the time we got there, it was wall to wall, with many people standing, and me being very cramped and uncomfortable, smashed against the window, with no place to put my heavy luggage, except for my lap. The ride there though was very scenic, and we passed through a bunch of beautiful hills, enormous boulders, desert-like vistas, and vast arrays of palm trees, which made the time seem to go by a little more quickly. We pulled into the crowded and noisy bus stand at about 3:30pm, and I took an autorickshaw into the "ashram area" of the city to find a guesthouse. The first place I found was charging only $3.50 a night, and seemed to have a very clean and modern room with a friendly atmosphere, so I accepted it, threw my stuff down, and went out to explore the city. This town is famous for its extinct volcano, the 3,000 ft Arunachala mountain, which has some mythological significance, having something to do with Shiva asserting power over the other major deities by turning himself into a huge phallic symbol of fire (you get used to this kind of stuff pretty quickly) or something of that nature. There is also an incredibly impressive temple complex called the Arunachaleshwar Temple, which took over 1,000 years to construct, and after having visited, I must say is the most impressive man-made thing I've seen in India, though other parts of the state supposedly contain many temples which dwarf this one, so I'll let you know. This place was also the home of the famed yogi Ramana Maharishi, who spent a good 25 years living in 2 separate caves on the mountain, which are now enshrined and opened to tourists. There is a large ashram dedicated to him in the center of town, as well as about 8 others scattered around nearby. The town is fairly noisy along the main roads, but back in the suburban areas there is a fair deal of quiet (though Indians certainly seem a little less considerate of their neighbors than Americans in terms of noise-making), and the Tamil architecture is unique, and though a bit tacky at times, can be pretty impressive. There are quite a few new-agey restaurants here which appeal to western tourists, who are supposed to come in enormous flocks once the weather cools down around late November, when guesthouse prices are supposed to go up nearly 1000%. You can get things such as fruit muesli, tofu steaks with red beans and rice, and setan korma with mixed vegetables at some of these places, though there are also a fair number of local restaurants serving greasy south Indian cuisine, and the famed "meals", which give you a vast amount of food for about 60 cents a pop. I can see why this is the off-season for tourists, as the weather is incredibly hot and oppressive, and the mosquitoes relentless, but it's worth it for the cheap cost of living, and you're able to see the awesome sites without too much noise and disturbance. After setting out on my walk, I was approached by a poor-looking old man, who said he served as a mountain guide, and would take me to the top of the mountain the next day if I liked at 5am, which I agreed to. First though, he made me follow him to some Shiva shrine a couple km down the main road, which gave me a chance to see some of the outskirts of the city and a nice view of the volcano, then we sat down while a bunch of priests spoke heatedly in Tamil (the local dialect), and then I left to go back on my own. After having some new-age cuisine, I went back to the guesthouse room, which I realized was directly next to a large construction site, where sawing and hammering went on until 12am (guess they don't have noise ordinances here), and that coupled with the incredible heat and the unbearable mosquitoes, made me realize a change needed to be made the next day. Luckily I had met this group of Kashmiri (far northern Indians) at a shop that night, who said they had a room above one of their other shops, and were charging only 100 rupees a night (<$2.50). I went to their place to check out the room, which wasn't too bad (though the squat toilet/water taps were outside in a small shed), but it was too hard to pass up, so I agreed to move my stuff in the next day after my hike. While there they fed me some rice and vegetables, which was served by the fistful instead of the spoonful, and we watched some of "Indian Idol" (yes, it exists) on their small television, and then I bid them farewell. After only a couple hours of sleep, I met my guide at 5am in the pitch dark, and he led me by flashlight for the first half hour up a steep stone staircase, which would begin our 3,000 foot ascent up the volcano. The staircase ended just as dawn was beginning to break, and from there on out, it was a strenuous climb up huge boulders, with no real mapped out route, and some good endurance and steady footwork was required. We paused to sit on top of this huge boulder to watch the sun rise above the city below, which was quite a beautiful experience. Then we spent another 45 minutes straight climbing virtually straight up, with some moderately dangerous passes that required a lot of concentration. I was amazed by this man's agility though, seeing as he was at least 60, and was wearing cheap sandals of all things, though he went barefoot for the last 20% of the way, and I had to struggle to keep up with his hurried pace. We then paused to go sit in this small cave to meditate, and spent a good 45 minutes there, drinking in the silence, and enjoying the cool darkness the cave offered. Then he told me he was going to turn back, and I was on my own for the last 1/3 of the ascent, so I gave him so money for his troubles (though he kept asking for more...and more...and more...and...) and I ventured up the rest of the way on my own, following the spraypainted arrows and messages that read "to the top". The climb was pretty brutal, and while I consider myself to be in fairly decent shape, this was an activity I wasn't used to, though I did find it pretty exhilirating, and at times frightening as some of the footholds and places to grab onto the rocks were very tricky and required a lot of balance and concentration. After one-fell-swooping the last 1,000 feet of the vertical climb, I arrived at the top short of breath and sweating like a pig, only to be greeted by another shirtless Indian guide (this one much younger), and a French boy named Leroy, who had both just arrived. The Indian guy (I think his name was Doh, or something to that extent), made us sit at the very top of the blackened mountain, chanting mantras kirtan style, and telling us about Shiva and performing some complex movements, including some sun salutations. Then he invited us into this dilapidated looking sadhu's tent about 100 feet down, and told us to sit for awhile and meditate. After sitting for a good 45 mins or so, him and another shirtless young Indian named Mani Shiva came in, and they proceeded to tell us the story of their guru, for whom they had made a small shrine adjacent to their tent, and made us go pay homage to it. The story is that their guru "Babaji", had lived on the mountaintop for 17 years straight, subsisting only on milk and tea, which his disciples would carry up to him each day, and never sleeping. He would sit for 12 hours a day with his right leg behind his head, and the other 12 hours with his left leg behind his head, this being proven by an old photograph they showed us. After awhile, a fire was lit, and tea preparation was begun. They used an old clay pot to cook the milk for the chai, and used old coconut halves as cups to dish out the tea, as well to serve as vessels for drinking. After saying a bunch of prayers, they proceeded to dish out cup after cup of the tea (I had at least 5), all the while talking about their guru's spiritual advice, and their daily practices of mountain-top climbing, and circumambulation of the mountain. We hung out for at least 6 hours, sharing different aspects of our cultures and talking about yoga and spirituality. Then they cooked up a bunch of rice, and we ate to our heart's content, sharing as well with the large and noisy pack of monkeys hanging out outside, and their 2 pet dogs, who climbed the mountain with them every day. Leroy had a tent and sleeping bag, and was planning to spend the night, but I was not so bold, so left in the worst heat of the day around 2:30, with Mani accompanying me on the way down. The climb down was actually more harrowing than the climb up due to the steepness and the fear of falling, and he amazingly made the entire journey barefoot, in spite of the heat of the rocks, and their sharp jagged edges. We stopped at his family's home on the way down, which was quite a poor and depressing situation, and it's no wonder he decides to spend most of nights and days on the mountain top. After having some chai, we parted ways, and I gave him a little something for his troubles. I then proceeded back to my guesthouse, grabbed my things, and walked about 500m down the road to the "Tibetan Crafts Shop", where I would spend the next 15 days. The mosquitoes and heat in this place were just as bad if not worse than the other guesthouse, but luckily they provided me with a mosquito net, which took a bit of time to figure out how to set up, but served as an invaluable tool in allowing me a peaceful sleep. Sleep generally ends at 6am though for most of the town, as there are power cuts from 6-9 every morning, meaning no electricity, and most importantly, no fan. There is another power cut every evening from 6-7, which is a mild annoyance, but not nearly so much so as the morning. I guess this has been going on for the last 2-3 months, but the people say when the nuclear power deal is finished, which Indians are all eagerly anticipating, their energy woes will be solved. After having climbed up the mountain the previous day, and witnessed all the spectacular views from above, I decided it was time to go ahead and get a camera. I rented a bicycle from a house across the street for 50 cents for the day, and decided to go ride around the busy marketplace in search of a digital camera. Believe it or not, digital cameras are very hard to come by in India, as most people use their mobiles for everything. Mobiles here seem to be a sort of status symbol, and the more features you have, the more rich you come across as, and even the poorest people seem to have at least a standard one. After a good 2 hours of searching the sweltering and polluted streets, I found a place that had a decent Sony with a warranty for about $175 (this was after a lot of haggling), which I still think was probably pretty steep, but oh well. After making my purchase, I decided to go visit the Arunachaleshwar Temple, which was this massive complex in the center of the city that took 1,000 years to construct. I was of course approached by a "guide", who basically took my hand and led me through, not really letting me stop to enjoy anything, but making me buy all kinds of flowers and coconuts as offerings for the many worship ceremonies and altars inside the place. He told me a couple tidbits of info, but he mainly served to kind of ruin my time by rushing me around and making me participate in things I had no interest in. The innermost sanctum though was ultra impressive, with incredibly intricate bronze carvings, and a dark, smoky, hot, and ominous atmosphere, and with the many shirtless priests roaming around and the loud eerie music, I felt like I was ready to witness some sort of ancient human sacrifice. Instead though they just smeared a huge red smudge (tikkal) on my forehead and made me give them some money. After about a half hour in the temple, I paid the guide for his minimal troubles (though of course he tried his best to snake a ton of money out of me for doing almost nothing), and decided it was time to head back and get some food after a long day of walking and bike riding. I had parked my bike fairly far away and had done most of my camera-shop looking on foot, so I was a little dismayed when I arrived back where I had left my bike to find it missing. Now in the US, you normally have to carry some sort of chain lock with you to chain your bike up, but here, every bike is equipped with a key and lock built within the bike itself, taking the key out every time you park your bike, which makes the back wheel lock up, rendering it immobile. I guess that didn't stop whoever stole it from somehow carting it off, despite it being in a very busy downtown district, so after realizing the situation was hopeless, I began my dejected walk home. On the way back though, I ran into some overly enthusiastic Nepalese-looking guy, who claimed to know me, and that I knew his friend. I was in a pretty rotten mood, and can't say I was too friendly and had no idea who he was talking about, as I'd had brief encounters with a large number of people my first couple days, but he called his friend and told him to come over to where we were. Turns out his friend was "G", an incredibly short but also incredibly nice Tamil fellow, who looked like he was about 35, but was only 23, much to my surprise. The night before, he had seen me wandering around, and asked if I needed any help. I told him I needed to find an ATM, so he borrowed a friend's bike, and drove me to one a couple km away, refusing attempts at rupee-donation. I was relieved to see him, and told him and the other guy about the situation, so they took me back to the spot where my bike had been taken, talked to some shop owners, and indeed, they had witnessed the whole thing, and confirmed the bike had been taken away by an unknown party. Then we went and checked some bike shops to see what kind of money I was looking at, and turns out it would only be about $75 for a brand new bike, which was still a bit of a pisser, but a lot worse than it could've been.
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Alright, well I started this blog entry over a month ago, and haven't written anything since. I'm afraid this will have to be the last one, so thanks for reading and for all your nice comments. There is just not enough time to write down all the things I want at this point, and I think it cheapens things to give only a brief glimpse, but I'll bring you up to date and bid farewell. I think when I return home though that I will do a proper write-up that will probably end up being book-length if you're interested in reading it, so just wait til then. Here's what's happened this last month briefly

Spent 15 days in Tiruvannamalai. Climbed to the mountain top 3 times and hung with different sadhus. Walked around the mountain 3 times and hung with more sadhus. Lived with 7 Kashmiris for $2 a day, which was interesting. Made some really good friends. Hung out with some super weirdos. Did a lot of walking and bikeriding. Had a great time and will definitely come back if I'm in the area again.
Spent 1 day in Vellore. Boring.
Spent 1 day in Mammallapuram. Nice stone carvings, but too hot, and power cuts at 2 am made it impossible to stay.
Spent 1 day in Pondicherry. Overrated, expensive and super boring.
Have spent the last 2 weeks in Auroville, this utopian experiment started 40 years ago with people from 50 different countries living in harmony on over 100 different independent, self-sustained settlements. This place is awesome.
Will spend one more week in Auroville. Then on to Kodaikanal, Kanniyakumari, Trivandrum, Varkala, Mysore, Gokarn, Jog Falls, Hampi, and wherever else I decide to stop down south before I change countries to renew my visa in either Sri Lanka or Nepal. Then I'll go to the desert for a month, then back to the middle of the country to see holy rivers and mountains, then over near the Taj Mahal and some sweet cities around there, then back to Rishikesh and then to the high Himalayas next summer, which I expect to be my favorite part of the trip. Just a plan though, and highly subject to change. Thanks again for your reading and support.

Love you guys. Take care.
Adam

10 Weeks in...

Namaste,

Hope all is well in the native country with my American brothers and sisters. It's been quite an interesting last couple of weeks here in India, and I am currently about 1,500 miles away from where my last blog was written. I've spent a lot of time traveling, met a lot of incredibly nice as well as weird people, and had some pretty strange and cool experiences along the way. Please forgive me in advance for the ridiculous amount of text contained herein. It's kind of difficult to be discerning with so many new experiences happening all the time, and while some events are more interesting than others, I just try to share everything I find to be notable, which tends to be a lot. It almost makes me wish things were more boring here so I wouldn't have to spend so damn long sitting in internet cafes composing these hours and hours of text, but hey, life could be worse...

I left Rishikesh by bus right after I completed my last entry, and that in itself was quite an adventure. I arrived at the bus station after paying only 20 rupees (40-45 cents) for a 5km auto-rickshaw ride (guess my haggling skills are getting better), and was quickly pointed to the bus, which was crammed to capacity (or so I thought), but found what appeared to be the last seat and sat down with my huge bag with not an iota of leg or breathing room. Afterwards, about 30 more people managed to squeeze on, and we finally commenced the drive to Haridwar, which was about a 45 minute ride south. The ride was loud, bumpy, and generally as uncomfortable as it gets, and I was thankful for the short duration. I guess you can't expect too much luxury for 19 rupees though. I arrived in Haridwar at around 3:00, which from the bus stand seemed like a filthy, noisy and chaotic city, and I can't say my impression changed too much after my 2 day stay there. After shooing off about 90 incredibly aggressive rickshaw drivers vying for my business, I found my way to a hotel my guidebook recommended on foot (which was a small victory in itself), and after a bit of bargaining, settled into the reasonable (by Indian standards) hotel room. I figured while I was in town, I'd attempt to go see the big sights (mostly the temples and the big nightly aarti ceremony on the Ganges at the famed Hari-Ki-Pari bathing ghat, which is the sight of the Kumbh Mela, which happens every 12 years), so I set off shortly thereafter. I walked for a ways and couldn't seem to get past noisy streets and markets, so I went the other way in search of a bit of serence walking, and was quickly befriended by a toothless, 60-something "untouchable" (the lowest caste), who invited me to sit back at his friend's shop across the street. I was a bit wary at first, expecting him to try any way to weasel some rupees out of me or outright try to steal them, but since the owner's 15 year old daughter was there as well, I figured it was safe. The three of us ended up talking and hanging out for a good 2 hours, with them attempting to teach me many Hindi phrases, and asking many questions about my life and the west in general. They also had me speaking Hindi to customers and answering questions, which certainly seemed to confuse quite a few people, some being fairly unamused, but I found it to be pretty funny. The shop was like 1,000 others around town, selling little toys, trinkets, chillums and various religious paraphenalia for use in daily worship ceremonies. Despite lack of formal education on both of their parts, both spoke pretty good English, and were incredibly nice, giving me some bananas and some tea, and denying my attempts to pay for said items. The man's name was Bapu, and after telling him I planned to attend the evening aarti ceremony, he insisted we go together, as he goes every night, so I said 'why not', and we set out right before twilight. It was a good half hour walk to the sight, and we filled the time with him sharing tips on being careful in many situations in India, never to trust Indians, and telling me useful things to say to avoid getting cheated by merchants and drivers. On the way there, an incredible number of overly aggressive beggars persistently demanded I either give them money or buy them tea or sweets, but Bapu shooed them away and told me things to say in Hindi to get them to back off. Now don't get me wrong, I help out my fair share of beggars and disabled people (of which there have been many every where I go), and have provided some people with a good bit of help after they've explained their situations, but you have to draw the line somewhere, and if there's a crowd, one handout means 50 more hands in your face, so you have to do what you have to do. Also on the way, a large parade was taking place in celebration of the elephant god Ganesh. It included many richly decorated floats, and girls with intricately painted faces (some with elephant masks), and a large painted elephant leading the procession, as well as a marching band. Indians seem to love parades and festivals, and any excuse they can muster up seems to be enough for a large celebration, as I've since seen many times. Anyhow, we got to the ceremony, where 3,000-4,000 people were seated to watch the fireworks (not literally, but there was certainly a good deal of fire). After a group of uniformed men spent literally 20 minutes walking through the crowd asking for donations in Hindi (Bapu translated everything for me), circling the same path 15-20 times but insisting "give if you can, but if not, no worries", things got started. There was loud devotional music played over the speakers, and people would raise their hands up once in awhile in what resembled "the wave" at US sporting events, and shout their phrases of worship. On the other side of the river, several men in elaborate dress performed choreographed movements, and had large swinging torches they would spin in various directions, and these were eventually used to light people's offerings of flowers and other items on fire, and set afloat down the river on banana leaves. The ceremony lasted only about 20 minutes, so afterwards, we headed back through the crowded and noisy bazaar, and I offered to buy us both some dinner. We stopped at a pretty nasty grease-pit he recommended, and had all you can eat thalis, which consist of rice, chappatis, and various sauces and vegetables, for about 80 cents each. By now it was around 8:00, and Bapu told me to meet him in the early morning to explore the other sights in the city, and since I had nothing better to do and was looking to kill another day in Haridwar before my train left, I agreed. I went back to the hotel to hang out and rest, but an insanely noisy ruckus of music and singing, blaring unbearably loudly, was going on about 100 feet outside my window, so I decided to go onto the river ghat behind my hotel room to sit by the river and soak in the peace. The presence of numerous articles of trash/waste and overpowering smell of death and feces proved too great though, so, after being approached by about 40 different sadhus to buy drugs only a couple hundred metres from my hotel, I went back to my room. The noise didn't stop until 1 am, and while this, like Rishikesh, is a holy city (no meat, no alcohol, lots of religious fanatics, etc.), they do not seem to adhere to the same 9:00-10:00 bedtime, and shops stay open late into the night. I ended up sleeping quite a bit later than expected, and with Bapu not being at the shop when I arrived, I decided to walk around a bit by myself. I walked a couple of kilometres around the Ganges, and while the hills of Rishikesh in the distance provided a nice backdrop to the river, it couldn't come close to the beauty experienced just 25km north, and my whole time here I was unable to find a nice, quiet natural setting to relax, which was kind of a shame. After a couple hours of that, I walked back to my hotel, and bumped into Bapu right outside. We went back to the shop and sat for awhile and talked to the 15-year old daughter a bit (and after awhile couldn't help shake the feeling Bapu was trying to set the 2 of us up), and then we left. It had then become too late to go see the other major temple situated on top of a large hill, which you had to take an air-lift to get to), so I bought us another meal and he invited me to go sit down by some other, quieter ghats, and wash our hands and faces in the river. He told me he lived in Delhi for most of the year, shining shoes in one of the more popular districts, and came here a couple months out of the year to escape the heat and noise (though I can't say this is much improvement from my experience) and to come to a more sacred and "shanti" place. He seemed like a deeply religious man, constantly making references to his "Shiva god", and telling me jumbled stories of mixed Hindi/English about the power of Shiva and how he had helped him in his life. He then proceeded to give me a 1 hour lesson in Hindi, telling me some very useful phrases which I wrote down, as well as ones like "yes, today I have showered", which seemed to reflect more personal issues. He would randomly say devotional phrases in the middle of sentences, which seems a common trend among many fanatical Hindus, and after a good 2 hours of sitting by the river, I decided it was time to part ways. He agreed to meet me at the bus stand at 7:00 am to make sure I got on my train safely, which was very nice. On the way back, I met a Nigerian backpacker, who talked to me for a bit, and told me about Nigeria and the more developed parts of Africa, which I have to admit I am completely ignorant of. He said the dollar goes a long way there, the people are friendly, and it's becoming much cleaner and more welcoming to tourists, so something to think about for the future. After another night of loud devotional music played until 1:00, and a brief sleep, I woke up, packed up, splashed some water on my face, and met Bapu. We took a cycle-rickshaw (bicycle-style transport) for 10 rupees (definitely feel sorry for the drivers of these, so gave a generous tip), and he saw me off. I gave him a pretty substantial amount of money for his kindness and for his tough situation, and he told me where he shines shoes in Delhi, and invited me to come hang out with him when I go back to catch my flight home and said he'd show me around town and make sure I didn't get swindled too bad. I wouldn't recommend Haridwar itself, as it's a noisy, crowded, polluted, unattractive, and generally unwelcoming city for tourists and foreign visitors (the large majority of signs are in Hindi and most people don't speak English), but I was glad to have met Bapu, and he made my stay a memorable one.

The Haridwar train station was as filthy and chaotic as the streets outside, and there was, what appeared to be, cow shit all over the ground, and the smell to go along with it. After Bapu pointed me to my train and left, I struggled to find the right compartment, as I was a bit confused at never having seen or been on a passenger train, much less an Indian passenger train, where nearly everything is in Hindi. I kept asking people if they spoke English, had no luck, and when the train began to move, and panic set in. I jumped onto the very last cab, which was second-class unreserved, the lowest class, which was super crowded and basically very uncomfortable, especiallyconsideringit was a 26 hour journey. One guy saw that I obviously seemed out of place, so I showed him my ticket, and he told me what to do at the next stop. A few people rallied to help me when the time arrived, and I managed to get into the right cab, which was a lot more comfortable and spacious, with padded seats, and more than 1 inch of personal space. I took my seat, and was immediately offered a meal by a friendly Indian family sitting adjacent to me. I know you aren't supposed to accept food willy-nilly in India, especially on trains, the presence of small children and kind elderly faces was reassuring enough, so I accepted a "train meal", which was actually quite good, though a bit spicier than I'm used to, and it really hit the spot. They didn't speak much English, but kept giving me candy and sweets, and yet another meal a few hours later, and would not accept my attempts to deny their offers. I expected the ride to be a pretty harrowing and uncomfortable experience, but honestly, I didn't find it to be too bad at all. It's certainly nothing like that "Darjeeling Limited" movie, and the train is basicaly hot, noisy, and dirty, but after second-class unreserved, I was grateful for what I had. Plus, again, $9 for a 1200km ride ain't too shabby, especially since the seats turn into beds, and while not exactly comfortable, I managed a good 6-7 hours of sleep when night arrived. The train ride itself though has quite a few quirks. Every time you stop (which is about every 10 minutes), a bunch of beggars will hop on and plead for money, as well as food and especially chai merchants. No matter what goods they're peddling, all seem to speak in the same incredibly grating and annoying tone, but often their services are welcome on a journey of that length, though can get old when you're trying to sleep. I had many mostly short conversations with Indians coming and going and sitting nearby, and all would generally ask my "good name", occupation, whether I was married, and how I liked India. Most Indians certainly seem to pride themselves on their country, which I think is a good thing, and seem appreciative when I tell then how much I like the people and culture. It's really surprising though how popular George W. is over here and America in general. Many people I meet say America is No. 1 and George Bush is a great man. The place is certainly becoming very westernized, as is evident by the dress of most of the middle class and more educated people, as well as the popular culture I see (billboards, music videos, pop music, etc.), which I have to say is a bit disconcerting, but it is what it is. On the train ride I managed to read 2 books, "Anthem"by Ayn Rand, and "A New Earth"by Eckhart Tolle, which are sort of the antithesis of each other in terms of philosophy, and while both have their merits, I think Mr. Tolle has a bit more I agree with, and I found the book to be quite a good read, though a little too new-agey at times. The best part of the train ride though has to be the views, and I ended up spending a good deal of time standing up and hanging out the door of the train, with the breeze in my face, watching the hundreds of miles of beautiful countryside fly by. Lush, fertile lands with small hills in the distance were the basic backdrop for most of the ride, as well as people hard at work tilling the fields into the sunset hours, which I have to say was quite a site from the train over the rolling hills, and many small rivers we passed over. Definitely not a bad way to see the outskirts of rural IndiaThe bathroom in the train is nothing more than 2 rubber strips to place your feet on as you squat over a hole, with the tracks speeding by down below. You're asked not to use the toilet at stops, which is understandable, but people do not seem to often heed that warning, and every time we'd stop, the stench of human waste was pretty overpowering, especially seeing as my seat was right by the bathroom, but I got used to it pretty quickly.

We pulled into the Ujjain train station right on time at about 9:30 in the morning, and I agreed to the first cycle rickshaw driver that approached me, and told him to take me to my destination, Siddha Ashram. My first impression of Ujjain was not a very good one I'll admit, as it seemed crowded, ugly, noisy, and polluted, with nary a redeeming quality on the 5km ride there. Stagnant lakes filled with floating trash were also a common site, and the sulfurous smell of rotten eggs/feces, which has come to be a common feature of many parts I've seen/smelled in India, seemed to be prominent everywhere. The ashram though was situated far outside of town, along one of the major bathing ghats of the beautiful Shipra River, and seemed an ideal setting for a quiet and scenic stay, which is what I'd been craving. I had emailed the guy in charge of booking guests at the ashram, and while he told me there was construction currently going on, he said I was welcome to stay if I wished, so I came expecting the normal ashram routine of a daily schedule of activities with meals, rules, other foreigners, etc.. Upon arriving, I met the resident Swami Nardanand, as well as an incredibly eccentric old man, who quickly befriended me, and bombarded me with personal questions about myself and about America, and over the next 8 days, we would have many more similar encounters. The first thing I noticed though was the construction, and basically the fact that the entire ashram seemed to be taken over by it, including all the guest rooms and the yoga/meditation hall. After sitting around for about 2 hours in the highly cluttered main lobby, I was shown to my room, which was directly behind and connected to the lobby, with a just a curtain to separate us. Apparently this was a transition time for teaching, which I was not informed of, and no meditation or yoga classes were being held, and the Swami was basically completely busy with construction activities for the next 2 months, so would not really have any time for sharing wisdom or offering his normal teachings. At first all I could think of was, "damn, I just sat on a train for 26 hours", but we had a good lunch, with just myself and the swami sharing the table, and his regular Indian sadhaks/disciples sitting on the floor below, all of whom were very friendly, basically helping to serve me and clean up after me, and treating me like royalty. At the ashram, the food is not the normal "sattvic", eg, light, non-spicy diet I was used to in the other ashrams, but consisted of large quantities of chillies as well as a good deal of sweets to go along with most meals, which were usually enormous, with the serving parties always beckoning me to eat more and more. Throughout the course of the 8 days there, I would every day take meals with the Swami, who I learned a pretty good deal about, having had no clue beforehand about his background or accomplishments. Apparently he is a pretty famous and well respected Ayurvedic physician, who has found lasting cures for malaria, arthritis, blood cancer, and chicken gunya, which was an incurable disease that broke out in India a couple years ago, with his medicine being the first to do the job, which I found pretty impressive. I asked him about his work and research and how long it took him to make his medicines and the processes involved, and he basically told me that every single one of the cures came to him in meditation, and that a saint revealed to him the secrets each time. He showed me his "laboratory" out back, which consisted of a small cauldron in a shed and a couple other pots and pans, and said he hoped to soon develop more professional equipment to make larger quantities of medicine more quickly, as it took around 6 months currently to make each batch.

My first day there, he invited me to go with him to a small village outside of town, where a feast for hundreds of people was to be served, with him serving as the blesser of the food for all. We drove there in a small hatchback owned by the ashram, the Swami doing the driving, and I have to admit, I was scared for my life on more than one occasion as the man drove like a complete lunatic, which I guess is actually pretty typical in India from what I've observed. We were accompanied by one of the female ashram workers, her small son, and another older male ashram worker, all of whom didn't say a word the entire time. On the way there, the roads were incredibly crowded with carnival-type festivities, including cheap, primitive rides, some that were broken, with the attendant manually providing the force to propel the participants, all kinds of fried food stands, and a large crowd of marching individuals, who all held 8-10 foot poles, richly decorated with multi-colored streamers, shouting mantras over and over as they marched along. Apparently this was either the birth or death day of a famous saint, and, as Indians love any chance they can get to party, they took full advantage. This was also the reason for the feast in the village I learned later, and would be the first of many festivals I saw taking place throughout my short stay in Ujjain. It was raining when we arrived at the village, and there was a large tarp placed over a huge bonfire, with about 20 different people huddled underneath. They were preparing some kind of bread rolls indigenous only to the state of Madhya Pradesh, over, or should I say directly on the fire, and didn't seem to flinch as they handled the burning hot rolls and turned them over again and again, until their hands, as well as the rolls, were blackened and ready. They were situated outside of a small school building, and inside, the rest of the preparations were taking place, with several people hard at work chopping up huge amounts of vegetables, and stirring enormous pots of various concoctions. At one point, I saw a guy dump at least 2 pounds of chili powder into a cauldron, and the Swami simply said "I hope you like food hot", which I quickly got used to after my short stay. After sitting around in the small, cramped principal's office, while the Swami and the villagers spoke heatedly in Hindi, something that would be a common recurrence for much of my stay in Ujjain, the food was finally ready to go. We ended up eating in the office, while the villagers ate in a large covered area outside, and I was pushed to my limit, with tons of delicious bread (the same I saw being prepared earlier), deadly but delicious balls of sugar and ghee, rice, vegetables, and some of the spiciest food I've ever eaten. Afterwards, he said he wanted to take me to some of his favorite sites in Ujjain, so after another harrowing journey speeding down flooded and highly uneven roads, we arrived at the "Mars Temple", which Hindu legend believes is the birthplace of Mars (don't ask, because I didn't really understand either). Apparently Ujjain is the birthplace of Indian astronomy, with a fairly complex ancient observatory further out of town, and Ujjain is the place where the ancient Indians place the first degree of Longitude or Latitude, as well as the Tropic of Cancer. The temple itself was fairly typical, with some decent architecture, and a shrine to Shiva inside. A red smudge was painted on my forehead, I was given a handful of sugar to eat, and the Swami a coconut by the priest, and we then headed off to the far more impressive "Sun Temple" a couple of km away. This was a large and dilapidated ancient temple, with an incredibly intricate system of dams and waterways in the river-fed chamber below, boasting 52 different platforms for meditation, with water rushing around currents on each end. There were several spots along some of the platoforms with spiralling, snake-like double helical patterns and different geometric fractals, which are supposed to help raise the energy in the body up the spinal column and into the brain when seated still on the platform with the water rushing below. It seemed like a very scientific approach to meditation, and I can't really do justice in describing it the way the Swami did, but the engineering behind it was very impressive for how old it was, and apparently a spiritually inclined king housed a bunch of monks and told them to help scientifically design ways to help quicken the path to enlightenment. There were all kinds of small housing complexes situated around the temple and waterway, but since no one keeps them up anymore, the state of everything was pretty shabby, though the waterway was still impressive and the dams still working. After this we went to a nearby farmer's house that the Swami knew, and upon entering the house, the smell of onions, and especially rotten onions was incredibly overpowering. There were literally thousands of pounds of onions stacked all over the house, with several children seated on a bed, watching an episode of the epic one-hundred episode telling of the Mahabarata, one of India's most famed and important spiritual texts. We were given some hot milk, straight from the udder, which was quite delicious, and after agreeing the onion smell was just too tough to deal with, we left for the journey back to the ashram. We ended up going a good 20 miles outside of town, and the ride there and back offered me a glimpse of the rural countryside of Ujjain and its outskirts, which I have to admit were pretty incredible. The river snaked through many different parts of the town and surrounding areas, and incredibly lush and fertile land, as well as an abundance of palm and magnificent banyan trees lined the way. I was expecting to not be nearly as impressed by the lowland areas of the country versus the beautiful hills experienced in Rishikesh, but I have to say I was very impressed, and the beauty of the countryside never ceased to amaze me on subsequent walks and drives throughout the countryside. Most people in Ujjain make their living by farming or other agricultural means, and the education level in the city is remarkably low. One boy I talked to told me that only 5-6% of Ujjainis spoke English, 2-3% used computers, and that the literacy rate was something like 40% overall. But though they are simple people of simple means, my experience was that of nothing but kindness and hospitality on most people's part.

After arriving back at the ashram, I got to use the bathroom facilities for the first time, which were shared by around 20 people, and consisted of a toilet that didn't flush, a sink, and a few water taps scattered around used for bathing, all of which leaked ceaselessly, and left the floor in a perpetual state of slickness. At first I didn't know how to make what I left in the toilet go away, so I had to humiliatingly go ask a female ashram worker for assistance. She made me follow her into the bathroom, filled up a large bucket with water, and dumped it into the toilet and "voila". Makes sense I reckon... After being in Ujjain for a few days, I couldn't help but notice I was the only person that...looked like me, and that 99% of signs were in Hindi. My entire duration there, I didn't see a single western tourist, and many people I tried to get information from would just ramble on in Hindi for 5 minutes, with me trying my hardest to convey that I didn't understand a damn word they were saying. The people here though were really great for the most part. Though most people's English was primitive at best, that didn't stop well over a hundred people from introducing themselves and shaking hands with me over my week long stay, as well as a good 20 people taking photos with me and trying their best to communicate what they could. I was given food, chai, and...other things by a great deal of different people, from 15 year old kids, to 70 year old sadhus, and after being there for only a week, I couldn't set foot outside the ashram without running into someone who I had shared food or something else with, or whose name I had learned and immediately forgotten. There were certainly times though when it could be annoying being a stranger in a strange land. Often I would just want to take a peaceful walk into the woods or by the river to get away from the noise going on in the ashram with all the construction, but could never get more than 100 feet without someone inviting me into their shop or hut, or making me follow them around to show me various shrines and talk to me about Shiva or Ganesh in jumbled Hindi-English. One crazy 60-something year old man began speaking to me one day, and demanded I follow him to the river, all the while speaking completely incomprehensible gibberish, (though I think he was trying to tell me the occupations of his father, grandfather, uncle, cousin, and brothers), stripped down to his underwear, dove into the river, and then showed off his breast stroke and back stroke, which provided a handy means for me to escape. Though I mostly tried to stick to the paths and waterways near the ashram, I also did a good deal of walking through some incredibly depressing and impoverished inner-city slums, where I was treated like a complete alien, with many cold stares, looks of awe, and condescending laughter at every turn. Though I had seen a good deal of poverty around India before, this was certainly a wakeup call of sorts, and all I can say is that a lot of people live like complete shit here, and it makes me feel like a rich, apathetic scumbag, but...well...what can I really say?

This town, like most others, has a lot of wildlife walking around the city, as well as the countryside, and buffalo, cattle, goats, wild dogs galore, pigs, and monkeys were all a common feature. The ghats were probably the nicest part of the actual city, and they stretched for miles in every direction along the peaceful, scenic, and moderately clean Shipra. During the Kumbh Mela, something like 30 million Indians come here to bathe in the river to wash away their karma, so I'm sure it is quite an amazing sight to see them filled to the brim with naked sadhus and millions of other devotees. At the ashram, there is a large 20 foot meditation dome being reconstructed, and the Swami said that during the last Kumbh Mela, all of the major news crews stayed at the ashram, and filmed from the top, which provided an amazing view of the ocean of people flooding the river, which is something I'd certainly like to witness someday. I was able to find a couple quiet, isolated places on occasion, only of course after talking to various people along the way and sharing a cup of tea or some biscuits with them, including a police officer, a pharmacy student, a government official, an ayurvedic doctor, and of course large groups of 18-25 year olds, just waiting for an opportunity to whip out their mobiles to snap some photos with our arms over each others shoulders.

On another day, the Swami took me to this temple, where underground caves had been constructed over 4,000 years ago, and kept out all presence of light and sound. Admission was currenty run by a group of perpetually high sadhus, who had these enormous hooks going through the CENTER of their ears, which supposedly is supposed to stimulate a certain nerve that aids in achieving meditative states, but the Swami said nowadays it's just tradition, and more for fashion than anything else. The caves were very hot and uncomfortable, but he said during the non-monsoon months, they are quite pleasant, and it's just the humidity that makes them unbearable. Yes, it rains here every day as well, but it's quite welcome as it cools everything down to just over 85, and something about the cloud formations here for some reason are always in a state of magnificence. The Swami said that he used to come to these caves before they became a tourist attraction, and would spend days in meditation there, which he said was something everyone should experience. He said when he has large groups of students staying in the ashram, he reserves the caves overnight from the sadhus, and they stay there overnight, something which I hope to experience, assuming I make it back here.

I guess I should describe the living situation a bit more. Like I said, I shared a small living space with around 20 people, me having the luxury of my own room, which was completely full of mattresses and assorted junk, and closely resembled any given room in the 'Gibbs Dr. house' I lived in several years ago. I guess I didn't have the room all to myself, as I was sharing it with at least 3 mice, 10-15 geckos, and numerous insects, but they were only an occassional disturbance and helped add a little character to the room. The dining area was outside next to the kitchen, which was attached to the workroom/bedroom shared by 5 women and 3 children, which was also attached to the lobby. The Swami had his own room back behind the main office, as well as a meditation chamber he used in the basement of the lobby. There were about 50 construction workers working on the guesthouses and meditation dome, many of them old women, who would do hours of hours of heavy lifting, while working on the roof in the baking sun all day, laying plaster, or hammering nails. Days seemed to be in the 12-15 hour range for most of the people, and it really made me see what kind of lives many Indians live as they struggle to get by. The people working in the ashram itself consisted of about 6 women, who did all the cooking, cleaning, and general maintenance duties, and they also worked around the clock, waking up at 5 every day to scrub the floors and the bathroom, and retiring around 10 or 11 after all the dishes had been cleaned. All of them were incredibly nice, but none spoke any English, but our general means of communication was them coming into my room, making a motion as if food was being put into their mouth to alert me that a meal was ready, and I guess that was sufficient. There were about 8-10 male ashram students living in the permanent guest rooms below the construction, and all were Indians in their late teens or early twenties, many attending to university studies as well as being students of the Swami. All were incredibly nice and accommodating, and while most conversations were difficult, they made the stay here a nice one.

After being here for a few days, I was invited to the "Mahakaleshwar Temple" by Raj, one of the senior ashram managers. This temple is what Ujjain is most famous for, and holds a "lingam", or phallic symbol of Shiva in the form of a large natural stone, which is set several stories down in a hot, cramped underground chamber and is believed to have incredible power. The Ujjainis believe their city to be one of the most powerful in the world, and most people hail the Mahakal Temple in a god-like manner, which gives the town a very cult-ish feel as most people you meet mention it again and again. Often walking int he streets random Hindus would simply say "Jai Mahakal", and I'd nod and say the same, and instant respect seemed to be gained. We went around 5pm, right before the evening aarti, and I have to admit the temple was pretty impressive. There were easily 100 employees, and there were all kinds of cameras and high-tech security facilities and checkpoints, and while Raj was senior manager at the ashram, he was also in a very high up position at the temple, so he got me through everything, and straight to the mighty lingam in the underground chamber, where about 8 priests were performing elaborate rituals around it. We broke through the line of about 100 devotees, and squeezed our way into the tiny chamber, where about 5 different people smeared different colored junk on my forehead, and a woven orange and black bracelet was wrapped around my wrist and I was told not to take it off for 1 year. I can't say I really get much out of these temple visits, as I'm not a Hindu, and don't really believe much in ritual for ritual's sake, but I try my best to be respectful and not look too bored.

On my 2nd to last day in Ujjain, I was accompanied on a bus tour of all the big sites in the city by a very nice 40 year old woman named Arati from Delhi, who was in Ujjain gathering information for a documentary she was working on about the scientific evidence behind the mystical powers the town claims to hold. She spent a lot of time in the ashram interviewing the Swami, who I heard make some pretty bold claims from what little I could understand. Since he had so little time to spend with me, and obviously felt guilty that I had come all the way to his ashram, he thought this was a good way to get the full experience of Ujjain, so Arati and I set off on the bus tour to view about 15 different sites, covering a period of about 5 hours total. The entire tour was conducted in Hindi, but Arati did a nice job of translating for me, and I think I learned at least something, though most of it was stuff I honestly had no interest in. We went to of course about 10 different temples, and by the time it was all over, it looked like I had been bludgeoned in the head with an axe due to all the red paint on my forehead in different designs. I'd also eaten about a pound of sugar, thrown 50 handfuls of flowers at different statues, walked around shrines in a circle until my head was spinning, and had about 10 different bracelets wrapped around my wrist. In terms of the sugar eating, it's often customary for priests to give out handfuls of rock candy, or little sweets when you pay homage to a shrine for whatever reason. I guess if nothing it's an incentive for little kids to want to go pay their respects to whichever idols a temple holds. In addition to the temples, (which I was honestly getting a bit tired of by the end), we saw an awesome 500 year old astronomical observatory, that mapped all kinds of astronomical phenomena with great accuracy, as well as had several sun dials, which were right on the dot to the minute. We also saw an ashram where Lord Krishna was supposedly a student, which had disney-style animatronic action figures performing different actions in the life of Krishna, some which were pretty friggin strange, such as Krishna drinking from a cow's udder, and also drinking form the teat of a demon. Arati payed for the entire thing, and bought me about 30 different snacks and sweets along the way, and refused every attempt I made to pay her back, and insisted I never say "thank you", and that one is enough for a lifetime. There were incredible amounts of beggars outside of nearly every temple, and Arati and I had quite a time trying to get past them, some children following you around for up to 2 minutes with their hands out, which is sad, but you know they immediately turn around and just buy candy and sweets with the money, so you can't really feel too bad. I was attacked by a monkey at one point, because I was holding a bag full of flowers you're supposed to throw at various deities, and he ended up ripping my pants and I thought I was going to have to rumble with him, but luckily he backed off when a quick, sharp threatening movement was made, though he kept thinking about going for it again. The best part of the tour, again, was getting to see the lovely countryside, as many of the sites were well outside of the city, and it made me wish I could spend hours in some of the quiet spots, but of course couldn't because we were in a constant hurry. Arati and I had many enemies by the end of the bus tour, as we were always the last ones on the bus since it took her so long to explain everything to me in English, and she had more than one shouting match with angry, impatient Indian tourists.

Despite all of it's impressive temples and natural beauty, the best part of Ujjain was definitely all the crazy people I met and hung out with, and while I could fill up several pages with stories about them all, I'll just highlight a few the weirdest ones. After stepping outside the ashram to go for a walk one day, I was immediately stopped by a group of guys at a small chai stand about 100m away, and was beckoned over to have some tea and biscuits with them. They ranged from 16 year olds kids, to a 35 year old ayurvedic doctor, to an Indian classical dancer, to a 40-something well-to-do looking government employee. The English was semi-decent, and we ended up having an ok conversation, and after about 20 minutes, I was invited into their guru, a wild-haired sadhu's, hut/tent almost adjacent to the shop for a visit. He had just gotten done bathing in the river, and the first thing he did before introducing himself while we were all crowded into his tent, was strip down, take out a thick bamboo staff, wrap his penis around the staff a good 3 times, then twist it several times in every direction, eventually putting it between his legs so that he resembled Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs playing the role of the transvestite, putting one leg up in the half lotus position, and balancing there perfectly for quite an uncomfortably long time. I have to say I was a bit taken aback, but he explained it was some sexual energy raising technique and helped to keep the sexual urges down, and the other guys didn't seem the least bit shaken by it and seemed quite amused at my reaction. After that, he pulled out a photo album and showed me a bunch of picutres over the years of the exotic places he'd been and the various people he associated with, though he provided no commentary, so I just had to make assumptions, but I have to say there were some pretty damn cool pics. His tent actually had quite a few decent amenities, such as hotplates, a fan, a small bed, and a bunch of cooking utensils, as well as electricity, so though it was cramped and dirty, he seemed to have a decent setup for a sadhu. We hung out for a quite a bit in there, some questionably legal activities took place for a bit, and then I was bid farewell and went on my merry way. Another day, after heading back from a walk by the river, I was approached by this crazy-eyed 20-something guy, who invited me into his guru's tent, which was actually directly across the dirt road from the ashram, so I said what the hey. There were about 5 other guys in there, as well as 4 of the cutest puppies I'd ever seen hanging out, and we spent the time struggling to communicate, with them telling me all kinds of holy stuff, slapping a bracelet on me, randomly saying mantras for minutes at a time, and insisting I chant "Om Namah Shivaya" with them 108 times, which I did. After about an hour, and more questionably legal activity, their guru, the 80 year old palm-reader arrived. They told me he would read my palm, and after about 30 minutes of preparation, he took out a 10 cent flashlight and began to study my right hand for an uncomfortably long amount of time. The guy looked like he was straight out of a scary movie. His eyes were purple and beady, his hair long, snow-white, and ragged, and his voice sounded like his throat was made of sandpaper and as if he belonged in "The Dark Crystal". He also kept coughing incredibly violently and stepping out of the tent fairly often to spit out whatever he had hacked up. At first he studied my palm for a good 5 minutes, consulting 2 different ancient looking books for a good bit, and finally started speaking some barely understandable gibberish, with his student doing most of the translating. He guesed my age right, then proceeded to tell me I had a good heart line, a good spiritual yoga line, would live to be 92 and would die from a snake, would have no stomach problems in my, had good mental faculty, would build my own house, would not work for the government for a living, would not find my guru while in India, and in my past life was a Hindu with a strong spiritual life. He asked nothing for his services, but I insisted on giving me 100 rupees, which he seemed to appreciate. Another day out walking by the river, a 60 year old guy who lived in a small hut nearby with his wife and three sons insisted I come in for some chai, and all the while walking there speaking all kinds of nonsense and mentioning Shiva about 30-40 times. He too had a couple photo albums, as well as all kinds of miniature statues and pictures of various deities he kept showing me, and he left me to look at them for almost a half hour while sitting on the bare dirt floor of his hut. His wife brought me some chai, which I was hesitant to drink due to the state of the place, but I've become a lot more bold in the things I'll eat and drink, so I said F it and bottoms-up'd it. They also gave me about 5 different "sweets", which are these super sticky balls of sugar and ghee and something else holding them together, which are incredibly delicious, but are obviously the reason why 60% of Indian women seem to be overweight, and from what I hear have diabetes galore. Later it was revealed the man was a sweet maker, and pulled open a cover revealing about 500 sweets, which he said would be shipped to Delhi the next day. Me, him, and his 3 sons hung out for a good hour, participating in similar happenings as with my previous hosts. His stream of talk was endless, and it was getting a bit old by the end, but he invited me back any time, and said he always loved to have Western guests in his home, and from his photo albums, looked like he'd had quite a few.

On my last day in Ujjain, after coming back from a walk, AJ, one of the young ashram students, and a bunch of others, were about to perform an aarti service for the god Ganesh, whose idol they were planning to sacrifice to the river. He insisted I join in, and about 20 minutes of complex ritual commenced, involving all kinds of smoke, flower throwing, sweets offering, and elaborate hand rituals, which I did my best to imitate. Afterwards, we all marched down to the river, and AJ insisted that I jump into the river with him, so we each grabbed a hold of Ganesh, and jumped into the river tandem-style, swimming a good 50 feet out to bid him farewell. The river was actually very nice to swim in and felt quite refreshing in the heat, and I was glad to say I'd done it, as I missed the opportunity in Rishikesh and Haridwar to actually go into the Ganges fully. After that it was time to bid farewell, and after a small meal, and a long conversation with the old guy I met on my first day focusing primarily around the sexual customs of American teenagers, which he seemed appalled, though amazingly interested, I gave a generous donation to the Swami and was driven to the train station for a 16 hour journey to the East to Sevagram. Raj insisted on carrying my luggage, went onto the actual train with me, bought me some water, and gave me a hug, saying I was welcome back any time. Ujjain was a pretty darn cool place I have to say, with great people, many of which I failed to mention, such as the guy at the train station who helped me for an hour and a half to reserve my ticket, great sites, and a general sense of weirdness. It seems like a good place to experience the real India, untouched by tourism and Western pandering, and while it was at times annoying and even intimidating being the only white man, it also made me feel like a celebrity, which was at times pretty nice. I think I'll probably come back in February when the ashram is completed, to hang with the Swami a bit more, and to revisit the nice sites again, knowing I'll have more time to spend in the quieter, more isolated places. Well, this is all from about a week or so ago, and a ton of stuff has happened since, but I'm gonna have to break the blog off for now and try to catch up somehow. I've been to Sevagram, Chennai, and am now in the super awesome city of Tiruvannamalai, which has a volcano you can climb to the top of, as well as all the way around, the most incredible temple complex I've ever seen, lots of distant hills, quiet forests, and incredibly friendly people. I'll try to catch up soon as I have lots more to report, and have now caved in and bought a camera, so some nice pictures will be forthcoming. Thanks for taking the time to read all of this jumbled mass of crap. I'm really starting to miss everyone back home, and pleasant memories constantly flood my thoughts, but I'm trying to stay strong to my resolution, and the great experiences I've been having certainly aren't hurting. Love you all. God bless. Stay peaceful. Stay happy. Live in the moment. Relish the bliss that is within you and don't sweat the small stuff. Take care.

Love,

Adam

8 weeks in...

Howdy,

I hope everyone is doing well and enjoying their respective existences in their respective places of residence. These last three weeks at Anand Prakash ashram have had their ups and downs, but I have really grown to love this city of Rishikesh, and will miss it a good deal, it being only the 3rd city I've lived in for more than a couple weeks. There have certainly been times when I've had some disdain for this place, and for all the people looking to prey upon you and take advantage of you, but truly, despite the over-commercialization and sometimes far-too-touristy feel of certain parts, this is a majestic and beautiful city, and it and many of its eccentric citizens have grown on me these last couple months. I will say though that I've been a bit disappointed with the yoga teachings I've encountered. Though this is supposedly the "yoga capital of the world", I haven't had much luck finding a place or person to take me to a new level of practice, which has been a bit of a disappointment. I've gone to several different places, and all have been either ultra-basic with very little guidance and insight, or else just ridiculously challenging and fast-paced, with very little guidance and insight. Anand Prakash got a new teacher right after writing my previous entry, and I have to say the way he teaches is something of an insult to the science and art yoga. I realize you're not supposed to take your practice too seriously, but this guy has us making animal noises for 2 minutes at a time, and has us forcing ourselves to laugh while in the middle of many postures, which we usually hold for around 5-10 seconds each, and which he himself performs with extreme sloppiness. Plus there is never any variation in his classes, so I had to stop going to the twice daily sessions, and just practice on my own and try to find what else was out there these last couple weeks. There is a guy here though from Spain named Juan, who has lived in Rishikesh for the past 4 years, and is very proficient in Iyengar Yoga, which is probably the most technical of all the different schools in terms of alignment of postures. He's taught me several things that have made a huge difference in the way I practice, and pointed out many things I was doing incorrectly, which was very nice. He also told me though that he would like to come to Tallahassee and study, as he was very impressed with the way I practiced and had never seen anything like it, which was a nice compliment to me, as well as to all my teachers over the past couple years, to whom I owe very much. There are about 500 different places in Rishikesh to learn yoga; from hotels, to small huts, to ashrams, to proper studios, and without having an inside on where to go, it's kind of impossible to know where to look, so I've sort of given up hope of finding some ultra-guru. Also, several of the other ashrams I've tried to visit have dismissed me at the door, due to me being a non-Indian, which is a bit disconcerting. Anand Prakash was honestly little more than a glorified hotel, with optional classes and meals, so it's been nice to be able to freely explore the city and surrounding areas, without fear of getting kicked out, like at my previous residence.

With that said, I have decided it's time to move on to other things for the time being (though I plan to return to Rishikesh at the end of my journey), and have reserved a train ticket for Ujjain, Madhya Pradesh, which is about 1200 km SW, and only a 26 train ride to boot. Ujjain is another fairly sacred city, with many ashrams and wild-haired dope-smoking 'ascetics', so it'll be interesting to see how it compares, and to have a change of scenery, though I somehow doubt the change will be as spectacular, but you never know. I've heard travelling by rail is an unforgettable experience, so hopefully it will live up to its reputation. The most amazing thing about rail travel though is the cost; to travel roughly halfway across the country will cost me $9, which is pretty darn tough to beat. With the cheapness and ease of travelling huge distances (nearly the entire country is connected by rail, with the exception of the far northern mountain regions), I've been planning somewhat of an itinerary of places to visit and things to see all over the subcontinent, from tip to tip, and think by the time it's over, I'll have...seen and done a lot of cool shit. Snow-capped mountains, isolated beaches, volcanoes, glaciers, caves, ice caves, wildlife preserves, botanical gardens, abandoned cities, hippie communes, desert camel rides, more ashrams, buddhist temples, river rafting excursions, enormous lakes with floating temples, and whatever else I find along the way are so far part of the plan.

I've finally read through the entirety of my 1500 page "Rough Guide to India", and there is so much awesome stuff here to see and do, I can't simply just sit on my butt and focus on my 3rd eye for the next 10 months in the same place. I realize that my original intention of coming here was to explore meditation and various yogas with the utmost seriousness, and find some sort of guru to change my life and hold my hand into enlightenment, but I am realizing more and more that living some ultra ascetic, austere lifestyle, while certainly very honorable, is just not something I'm willing to throw myself into with full force at this time. At first I was very gung-ho about this whole thing, and the experiences I was having were pretty amazing, but I've also had some really crappy experiences, and felt pretty low and depressed at times, and the more I've gotten out and just enjoyed being in the beautiful natural settings and amongst the craziness of India, the more I've been able to do so with a greater awareness and greater respect for life. I've been reading many books these last few weeks, with many conflicting views, and many new ideas, and lately, the middle path of not taking austerity or indulgence to extremes, seems a nice way to go. Reading over my last blog, I realize how ridiculously seriously I've been taking myself, and basically realize I need to lighten up and enjoy the hell out of this place while I'm here, rather than stayed holed up in an ashram cell, meditating all day and convincing myself that this is the only way to true happiness, and that I'm completely above this body and mind and their needs and desires. Not that I plan to forego my practices by any means. They have been an important part of my life for the last 2-3 years and have had an indescribable impact on my philosophy and well-being, and I plan to continue with at least as much seriousness as I did in the US, but...I have so much time, so much freedom, and so much amazing stuff to see and experience. I also realize that just because I'm sitting in my room with my eyes closed, or standing on my head or my feet for extended periods of time, I may be getting no more physical, mental, or spiritual benefit than if I am walking around outside, enraptured by the beauty of the mountains, the river, and the wildlife, and realizing the connection of all things through day-to-day experience. Many of the places I'm going to visit will have ashrams and yoga and meditation teachings, which I plan to participate in, but my overall attitude has changed a bit. Anyway, enough of the self-indulgent new agey mumbo-jumbo...

I've had quite a good time these past few weeks, especially after getting over another nasty stomach bug that lasted for a few days. Sickness though is really just a blessing in disguise, and basically forces you to confront your body and your thoughts, and try to make peace with everything and stop resisting your natural healthy state. A sick body usually means a sick mind, and I've certainly felt a good deal of loneliness, anger, and depression at times, but waking up and feeling like my good old self again after a few days of suffering gives such a refreshing view of life, and a much greater appreciation for the small things you take for granted. I decided to go out into the city and explore some new, more isolated parts after being shut in for so long, and I bumped into my friend Girish on the street after having not spoken to him in about a month. He treated me to some food, and then took me to a nearby waterfall a couple km out of town, where we went swimming and hiking and sang many songs. This had to be one of the most scenic parts of Rishikesh, and on the drive there, the huge valley formed by the mountains, with the river spiralling through like a serpent, and the huge boulders all along the beaches was just, like, totally killer, man. He told me that during my last week he would take me around and show me all the cool stuff Rishikesh and surrounding areas had to offer, so the next day we went to another, much bigger waterfall (Neer Garh Falls) a little farther out of town. We went to his house before for a bit while he got some lunch, and I ended up watching about half an hour of a Bollywood movie with his dad and nephews. The movie played like an American spoof-type movie, and was very sensationalistic and over-the-top, but I guess that's what's in in India. The father certainly seemed to enjoy it quite a bit. Afterwards, we headed out on his motorcycle to the 16km away destination. We rode through some hilly terrain and dense forests along a small highway, and I got to see some more rural parts of India, which easily could have passed for the poorer areas of St. Marks or Wakulla, if not for the prevalence of Hindi writing at every turn. He ended up borrowing his brother's cell-phone, or "mobile" as Indians like to call it, and played a loop of 5-6 Indian songs his brother had purchased, ranging from nu-metal, to boy bandish songs, to rock ballads, to hip hop, to more traditional stuff, with me holding the cellphone up to our ears the whole time. Indian pop music seems to be at least 10 years behind the Western trends, and is incredibly derivative of all that has come before it, but they definitely add their own charm, and some of the songs have been stuck in my head ever since. We arrived at the park after about a half-hour's drive, and had a long, arduous hike up the incredibly steep and rocky terrain. The falls had to have been at least 3,000 feet up at the source, and the climb was tiring, but quite rewarding. The views below from the summit were pretty amazing, and the waterfall was huge and magnificent. There was a pretty large area to swim, and many Europeans and Indians were doing so when we arrived. The water was freezing, but invigorating, and we climbed some tall rocks several times and jumped into the falls below, much to the bewilderment of some watchful Indians. I actually received several questions on swimming from Girish, as well as some other Indians, who obviously didn't have the first clue on how to swim. I guess it's just something taken for granted in America, as most kids take lessons somewhere in their youth, or at least I think they do... I haven't really had a proper swim in at least 10 years, but I did my best to offer what instruction I could, though from the constant floundering, I could see it didn't do much good. Anyway, after heading back, with more cell-phone stereo entertainment, and a brief stop for some chai and biscuits/cookies at a small shop, he insisted I come back and eat dinner with him and his family, which I happily agreed to do. Prior to that though, we went to an "aarti" or Hindu worship celebration, located along a huge bathing ghat facing the Ganges. The view was really awesome in the twilight, and the sound of all the singing coupled with the lighting of flowers and various things on fire as an offering to various deities, and having them floated down the river on banana leaves was quite a nice sight. Watching the diverse crowd was also an interesting spectacle, as there were at least a couple thousand people scattered around. Amongst the screaming children and older couples making out, tourists, and beggars, there was a huge group of sadhus smoking grass and hash out of their chillums (they are legally aloud to do this as part of their religious practices), and I was offered illicit narcotics too many times to count. The nerve!

We arrived back at Girish's home and went and sat up on the roof, or "bridge" as he calls it for some reason, and he asked me a ton of questions about yoga and meditation, and also asked for all kinds of relationship advice, which I'm probably not the most apt to give, but I did my best. I guess he's juggling two relationships, one with a girl he is passionately in love with, and another with a girl his family is trying to arrange a marriage with. I can't say I envy his situation. He told me he had to take his mother to the doctor before dinner, so I ended up sitting on the roof alone for a good hour and a half, with random visits from various relatives and neighbors, who knew just enough English to ask a couple of questions, and then stand around awkwardly until they realized there was nothing else to say. I watched the city go by below, and the countless children running after each other and laughing maniacally. I guess "tag" is as good as it gets for a lot of these kids, at least from what I've observed. After he got back around 9:30, we dined on the roof and ate an enormous smorgasbord of rice, ultra-spicy dal, chappatis, cucumbers, tomatoes, radishes, curd, apples, and mixed vegetable dishes. He kept forcing me to eat more and more, and I politely did so, until I was about to explode, and then had to gently deny about 20 more requests to keep going. By this time, I realized the ashram gates had been closed, so he insisted I spend the night, which I reluctantly agreed to. After taking a brief walk with him and his cousin down to the river to let the food settle, through the winding alleyways of inter-city Rishikesh, and teaching me some basic Hindi phrases and laughing at my difficult time mastering them, we headed back, and a bed was set up on the roof. I figured I would be sleeping up there alone, and was looking forward to laying on my back for awhile and looking up at the stars, but I soon realized him and his cousin and I would be sharing a moderately small double bed, which I have to say was a bit strange and uncomfortable, but I guess it's nothing uncommon in India. I'm not sure if I slept at all, as the noise from the city was pretty incessant all night, the dogs from every corner never stopped barking, and I wasn't really able to change my sleeping position, but I got through it somehow. We got up around 5:30, and I noticed that beds were set up all over the sprawling household, with many of them in open-air spaces. I'm not really sure what the family does when it rains, but I'm guessing it must be pretty uncomfortable. Altogether, from what I can tell, between 12 and 15 people live in the household, inlcuding six small children and a couple of his brothers and their wives and his parents, but I couldn't really get a good handle, and no one really spoke any English except for him. He then took me to the Sivananda ashram (the most famed ashram in the city), where he does yoga every morning, and we did a bit of easy early-morning yoga, then finally took me back. I got back just before breakfast, and realized I had lost my padlock key. They issue you a padlock and key at the ashram, but from what everyone's told me, it's smart to bring your own, as there are no extra copies of the key. I was basically locked out with no way to get back in, so a maintenance guy had to take a hacksaw and cut through the metal for a good 20 minutes, which made a ridiculous amount of racket, and had me feeling pretty stupid. Finally got in though, ate some breakfast, and went to sleep for a bit after quite an exhausting day(s).

A couple days later, Girish insisted I see a proper Bollywood movie in the theater, which I have been wanting to do since I got here, so we went downtown to the theater to see "Cham Ku". Tickets were $1, and the theater was actually very large and nice, though there was of course no a/c. Smoking is allowed, which was a bit of an annoyance, with several chimneys sitting in front of us, but it is what it is. There were only maybe 50 people in the theater as it was a Thursday afternoon, and not a single female among them, which I guess was a bit strange. The previews were honestly the best part of the experience, with one for a horror movie, one for an animated disney film about the Bhagavad Gita, and a pixar-type movie. The previews were actually very well done, but again, all the movies seemed very derivative of those in the West. "Cham Ku" was a highly stylized political action movie, which would normally put me to sleep in seconds in America, and this was honestly no different. From a technical standpoint, the movie was ver well done, and had nice editing and cinematography, but it couldn't really make up for the boringness, although I will say there was an incredible amount of action and rather graphic violence, which was surprising. About 15-20 percent of the movie was randomly in English, which actually served to make it more confusing, so I just stopped trying to keep up after about an hour. The best parts though were when it would shift from incredibly melodramatic, serious scenes into music and dance numbers which resembled music videos, and seemed to sharply contrast the main aesthetic of the movie. There was an "interval"/intermission about halfway through, and Girish agreed the movie was too boring, with not enough comedy or singing, so we left. He then took me to get a shave and a haircut from his "guru" Sanjay the barber. I know I promised I would let my hair and facial hair grow out, but I honestly just looked completely ridiculous, so I said F it, especially knowing a respectable barber would be doing the work. Sanjay was actually a pretty smart guy, and very knowledgeable about the west and was very interesting to talk to. He was also a darned good barber, and I have to say I hardly recognized myself after having looked like a mendicant for the last 2 months. The facial hair, however sparse, definitely adds 5-10 years, so I'm now back to looking like a high school graduate again.

For a final last hurrah, Girish took me to Mussoorie, which is a mountain town about 60km west of Rishikesh, that has amazing mountain views of the snow-capped Himalayas, as well as an amazing view of the vast valleys below on the opposite side. The ride was a good 3 hours by bike, which was honestly pretty treacherous and uncomfortable due to the horrific state of many of the roads, and the chaotic driving, but when we got up in the hills, it was all worth it, and just watching the scenery go by as we climbed up to around 6,000 feet was awesome. The weather quickly dropped a good 20-25 degrees, so I was glad I had brought a jacket, which was pretty much a necessity, especially on a bike. We went and saw yet another waterfall called "Kempty Falls", which was a really steep, but nice hike, and a really spectacular...spectacle. People were actually swimming at the bottom-most part, which must've taken some major cahones, but we opted out and headed over to the highest point in the region, where the view of the distant snow-capped mountains was said to be the best, and it did not disappoint. I thought Rishikesh had some grand views, but this put it to shame, and got me very excited about venturing futher north into the mountains next summer to see the incredible peaks and landscapes. It would've been nicer to hang around and see the city a bit more by myself, but we had to head back, and after another 3 hours of ass-numbing travel with the same 5-6 songs playing over and over on the good old mobile, we made it back in one piece.

Girish certainly made my last week here very interesting, and showed me a lot about the area, and also shared a ton of wisdom and insight into Indian lifestyle and culture. While he speaks pretty good English, there were still many communication difficulties, but I honestly think that makes friendship a bit easier, as you tend to not sweat the small stuff, and just focus on the good, because it is the easiest to communicate. Altogether I found him to be an incredibly friendly and helpful guy, who taught me a good deal about how to get around, and also inspired me to want to see all that this subcontinent has to offer.

Well, today I will head to Haridwar, a nearby town from where my train departs, and stay a couple nights before I head out. It is also a very holy city, and plays host to the Kumbh Mela, which takes place every 12 years, where tens of millions of Indians come to bathe in the river as a form of devotion. There should be a couple interesting things to see, but we'll see how it goes. I mainly just don't want to have to hassle with waking up at 4am to make sure I catch a cab and bus in time to make it to the train station from Rishikesh on Tuesday morning. All in all, like I said before, Rishikesh has its ups and downs, but it feels like a second home to me now, and I will definitely come back here at the end of my journey to see how much myself, and it has changed.

Miss you all. Love you all. And until we meet again, take care and keep on truckin.

Phir Milenge,

Adam

6 weeks in

Namaste/Namaskar/Hari Om,

Hope everyone is doing well wherever they are and whatever it is they may be doing. Well, after 30 days, I have finally left Yoga Niketan Ashram to see what else the city has to offer in terms of classes, facilities, and scenery. While I had quite a good stay at YN, met a lot of really great people, and learned a good deal about yoga, philosophy, and myself, I figured that confining myself to the first place I stumbled across would kind of limit my perspective of the city and what teachings it has to offer. Now, of course, this goes against the philosophy of being happy wherever you are and doing whatever you're doing, but...well...F it. My last week here was a good one though, despite getting a nasty, somewhat debilitating cold for a couple days. I met a ton of Japanese people and S. Koreans, who were all very friendly, and quite an animated group. I will say that meditation was not their strong point for the most part, as they were a very restless and excitable bunch, but a really happy and nice group all the same. By the time I left, the Occidental to Oriental ratio was about 1:10, which was quite different from when I arrived, but it's very nice to converse with different cultures and see what they're all about, and I'm glad to be able to get a taste of some other parts of the world, even if only through talk, besides just India. I had some intense religious and political philosophy discussions with a big group of Koreans, which I honestly think may have scared them a little bit, but I learned alot about their country, and told them a lot about mine. Let's just say I wouldn't make the best US Ambassador, as I have a lot of mistrust of certain governmental programs and policies, but they at least got a taste of the more hippie liberal perspective, that was probably a little different than what they were used to. I tried to explain to one Korean girl who had lived in Alabama for a year back when she was 11 why Alabama was one of the poorest and least respected states in the country, and I have to say that it was pretty interesting to explain that to a foreigner, who has very little perspective on the issue.



I finally got the rubber hose used for clearing the nasal passages all the way up my nose and out my throat with the help of the sadistic yoga teacher Naveen, who forcefully held my hand while my fingers were about a mile down my throat searching for the other end, with me violently gagging and protesting the whole time. No pain no gain though as they, whoever they are, say. Altogether the yoga was a good challenge, mentally and physically, and I was introduced to some things I didn't think I could do, and had never seen before. Overall though, I just felt the teachers didn't really teach many basics at all, and their style of instruction was to perform a ridiculous posture or action that no one was capable of doing, and then simply say "do it", despite numerous dumbfounded stares. Also they had us doing a lot of somewhat dangerous pranayamas (breating techniques) and energy raising techniques, with very limited instruction, and afterwards a couple times I found myself very off-balance mentally and physically, which is the opposite of what should be experienced. Anyway though, I might come back at the end of my trip to revisit all the teachers and staff and stay a few days. Really a very nice and interesting group of people, despite the sometimes militaristic attitude of the ashram and classes.



Anyhow, I wandered up the road and found a place to stay (briefly), called the "Namaste Peace Cottage" that cost $3 a night, and let's just say it cost $3 for a reason. Toilet didn't work, room was full of bugs (guess the geckos in the room had more than their fill), bed was damp, there were 3 dogs living right outside the room who would bark all day and night, and the faucet dripped constantly. I stayed there, or at least my stuff did, for all of 15 hours, most of which I was out exploring the city, looking for different ashrams and classes. For dinner I went to this Ayurvedic "restaurant", which was basically this family's home, who served Ayurvedic based health cuisine and also sold different herbs and essential oils. They had a big herbal and vegetable garden in their yard, so I expected I would be getting some fresh, healthy cooking, and I have to say I was very pleased. I went in and there was only one table with about 8 chairs around it, which I assume the family uses as their dining room table. My Tai Chi teacher Misha, who is a very experienced world traveler, advised me to never eat in a place where you're the only one, but I thought I'd take a chance on this place, as it's not your traditional restaurant. I ordered some tea and a good sounding meal, and watched the woman cook it in front of me, all the while hearing the sound of the grandmother clapping and singing constantly in the other room. Right as I was being served, the father and children got home, and just went about their normal family business like I wasn't there. Quite a weird experience, but I would go back in a second. It's amazing how some of these people support themselves with the meager business they seem to do, but I guess everyone gets by somehow.



After sleeping on top of some clothes and using my yoga mat for a pillow, I headed out at 5am for Anand Prakash Ashram, which I had stumbled upon the previous day, after deciding a quick change was needed. While this place has much smaller grounds than Yoga Niketan, and is located in a slightly more developed and residential area (it's hard to explain how the sprawling sections of developments are here, but let's just say...it's not very organized in any way, and quite different than what I'm used to), it is actually very quiet, and the views of the mountains far surpass those of YN. This place is only 400 rupees (<$10) a day, and you get two two-hour yoga classes, 3 fresh, healthy meals a day, and a clean and modern room that has hot water, with an absolutely amazing view of the mountains on all sides. The asana classes are much different than what I'm used to, and more "happy yoga" style, though we do a good deal of advanced stuff, and a lot of stuff I'm not used to. The classes are not very strenuous for the most part, and any time we do anything moderately intense, we take a good relaxation break for a minute or two before moving on. The classes are a good mix of meditation, asanas, pranayama, and chanting/toning, which keeps things interesting. I honestly have felt amazing after every class though. Super blissful and full of peace, and the teacher is a very animated, loving, and happy woman. In the mornings, we practice on the roof of the ashram, to the view of the sun rising over the Himalayas, which is incredible, and breathing in the mostly fresh pre-dawn mountain air is quite an experience. Right now there are only 5 people staying here, which is really awesome, and the place is ultra quiet, with very few distractions, which was not always the case at YN. I've taken to practicing a couple extra hours of asana and different body awareness techniques in one of the big yoga rooms every day, as I like to make sure I still work on more basic and advanced things excluded in the other classes, and it's a very nice, quiet, and spacious atmosphere to do so. This place doesn't have monkeys unfortunately, or large and beautiful grounds, but the mountains surrounding you on every side in the distance makes up for it, and the location is in a much more remote area on one end, as well as fairly close to a huge hub of activity on another end. I talked to an old Israeli woman named Edna who's been staying here the past couple weeks, and she told me the guy who founded it was actually an ex-teacher at Yoga Niketan, until he met a Canadian girl that he fell in love with, started this place, then moved to Canada. He comes back 2 or 3 times a year for a couple months to do Teacher Training courses, but in the meantime, every employee is one of his relatives, and I have to say they keep the place in tip-top shape, despite there being so few people here. The place has a decidedly more "new age" feel than YN's strict and militaristic attitude, and seems more "spiritually nurturing" (alright, I know that's gay, but, well, it's true) overall. I'm meditating more than ever here, and my mind seems incredibly quiet and centered pretty much all day long. I don't know if it's never talking, or if it's doing less strenuous physical activity or what, but whatever it is, it rules. My room is actually meant for two people, and if the place fills up, that would mean a roommate, and I'd probably leave at that point, but we'll see what happens. I think I'll probably stick around here for another month or so at least. It's definitely a bit creepy how few people there are staying here, related to how many staff members and family of the Yogi who started the place there are, but it's cool I guess. Sometimes I'm the only foreigner in the yoga classes, with the teachers relatives being the other members, and sometimes she'll just tell me to do whatever I want, and talk in Hindi to the others for a good 10 minutes. They have a kirtan twice a week, and on Monday I decided I'd give it a go, as I enjoyed the ones at YN a good deal. It was me, an old French guy, an Indian grandmother, 2 of her grandchildren, and her 30 year old son who is the office manager. I'll just say it was pretty awkward and weird, but hey, it is what it is.



The neighborhood this place is located in, if you can call it that, is very diverse as I mentioned earlier, with a hotel here, a small shack there, and a bunch of middle-class abodes scattered around. Everyone seems to have a deck on their roof, and in the evening times when standing out on my balcony, I'll see people eating up on the roof or singing songs together, which doesn't seem uncommon. Also see a lot of little kids playing cricket (India's national sport), in the street, which is fun to watch. This is definitely a whole other side of Rishikesh, and it's kind of nice to be living more among the locals than in the more touristy district, where everyone just wants your money. Lots of people own cows, and one guy owns a pack of mules, who walk right by my room every day carrying load after load of vegetables and grain, and leaving nasty little presents all along the way.



All in all I'm very happy to have found this place, and think it will be a very ideal setting for continuing physical, mental and spiritual development. I'm pretty much meditating something like 4 hours a day on my own, doing 5-6 hours of some kind of physical body awareness practice, reading tons of Vedanta, Yoga, and Buddhist philosophy books, and am even turning my meals into a meditation, taking close to an hour to eat (which definitely gets some strange looks). Life is quite excellent right now I'll say, and there is really no greater sensation than peace of mind. I'm starting to miss my friends and family on occassion, but I think I will be sticking to my one year resolution of stay. Too much good is coming from this to turn back now, and I would really recommend doing something like this to anyone serious about this kind of a pursuit. I think at some point before I go to Nepal before I can re-enter the country (every 6 months you have to leave the country for at least a day to stay in compliance with the "multi-entry visa"), I'm going to head to Bodhgaya, which is southeast from here about 800-1000km, to study some Buddhist meditation practices, and participate in at least one 10-day Vipassana meditation course, which I've always wanted to try. Bodhgaya is the site of the famed tree the Buddha sat under whenhe attained enlightenment. Not that I really care about that kind of thing, but the city has many learning opportunities for meditation, and I figure I shouldn't just limit myself to yoga philosophy while I'm here, and should see what other techniques for transcendence exist.



Finally, I have a few pics to show you of Yoga Niketan and some other Rishikesh sites taken from various people I stayed with. It's not exactly the view I would give, but on the other hand, there are a couple really good shots. They're located in a post right below this one. Hopefully I'll be able to acquire more as I meet more people who take photos and post them online.



Take care everyone. Love and miss you, and hope to come back and see everyone happy and healthy.



Love,

Adam