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