chatrapati shivaji international airport (mumbai, india) - november 19, 2006

wow. wow wow wow. i love india. wow.

and wow wow wow does Bonnie Cappuccinno maintain a breathtaking and exhausting pace.

we had one full day in Delhi, visiting the MVP women's centre where destitute women are trained in sewing over 6 months with the hope that they will be able to establish their own sewing businesses. they are, without exception, among the most beautiful women i've ever encountered. and we're treated like royalty wherever we go, such is Bonnie's golden reputation and enormous goodwill.

leaving Delhi for Gandhinagar (via Ahmedabad) on november 16 required us to be up at 2:30am to load the three taxis to accommodate 6 travellers (me, bonnie, doris & jeanne-d'arc from ottawa and clasina & tony from vancouver) plus as much luggage as might be found on a space shuttle mission (mostly supplies for the homes). we have encountered NO problems. we breeze through.....like royalty.

we spent 3 fully days at the home in Gandhinagar, a strange, fully planned city laid out in 30 sectors. Sector 21 is where we were taken shopping on the first day. all of us bought material to have clothes made. we'll be attending a wedding in Kaliyampoondi (near Chennai) in about a week, so we all wanted special outfits. i had a traditional, white kurta pyjama made as well as a pair of more formal trousers that i can wear under the kurta (the long shirt) for the wedding. it all cost about 850 indian rupees (about $22), was made overnight, and fits perfectly without a fitting. wow wow wow.

on day 2, the women went to do more shopping and accompany Bonnie to meetings in Ahmedabad. i went with the home's assistant manager, Ravi, to the Akshardham Temple, built by the current incarnation of the Swami Narayan in his honour. the temple is spectacular, intricately carved over a period of 6 years from tonnes of pink sandstone brought from Rajasthan and is surrounded by a collonnades and exhibition halls.

i have to go because we've got to clear security for the next leg of hour flight to Hyderabad.

more to follow.....

i have so many good stories so far about india. nothing like the scary crap in the guidebooks.

namaste.

phasechange - november 13, 2006

this phase change within the bigger phase change is curious, fascinating, frustrating, terrifying, uplifting, joyful, sad and did i mention terrifying? it's time for the real toe-dip in india. tomorrow, i leave the relative safety and comfort of boudhanath in nepal for the first time in 2 1/2 months. i'll be visiting 4 relatively rural parts of india, then muslim bangladesh. i'm expecting to be even less comfortable.

i was reminded today of a recurring, multi-level dream about lightswitches that used to terrify me in a way that can't be given word form, but i wrote a little something about it here. i've had only one dream in kathmandu worth mentioning. so i'm mentioning it only. details are pointless right now.

i'm not sure about computer access, so perhaps won't be blogging anything until i'm back in Kathmandu in early December.

i have serious concerns about whether all of my e-mails are making it to the recipients, though i get no messages indicating a problem. if you haven't heard from me, this may be the problem.

to all of you who support and inspire me and always on this journey.....

tashi delek

maharajgunj - november 6, 2006

Maharajgunj

go on

say it

three times fast

dare ya ;o)

i'm not sure whether my present ebulliance (for there can be no other word) is because i got to visit the picturesque wasteland of maharajgunj twice today or because of my many accomplishments, which have left me feeling a little flushed with...something. but maybe that's just the two scoops of ice cream on the apple pie i had after lunch at 3 Sisters Rooftop Restaurant with my second-favourite server in Boudha, Bharat.

maharajgunj. it's sort of an area, and sort of a road that emerges northward out of the embassy-speckled area of kathmandu called Lazimphat, where the Canadian Cooperation Office-Nepal, which functions as our embassy, is located. on its own, the name "maharajgunj" has a kind of kitchy piquancy of which i'm beginning to understand only the nepali people are capable. but when coupled with "Ring Road", which is the intersection at which the Bangladesh Embassy is located, and where i made my way twice today, it takes on that old uglybeautiful character that i adore about this country.

me approaching one of many expectant taxi drivers outside Boudhanath gate this morning just past 9am, for Bangladesh visa applications can only be lodged at 9:30am: "Bangladesh Embassy? Maharajgunj & Ring Road? Do you know it?"

taxi driver: "yes"

me: "meter ok?"

taxi driver: "ok"

Maharajgunj & Ring Road

it's like two trains, one ugly and one beautiful, started off on opposite sides of the known (or maybe unknown) universe, built up to near-light speed and collided at the top of the indian subcontinent and, oops, out popped Nepal

even the Bangladesh Embassy itself, though representative of another sovereign state, evokes this strange quality. one could almost miss it. from the insane, exhaust-filled Ring Road, just east of its intersection with the utterly bewildering Maharajgunj, it appears to be nothing more than a squat, hospital-green painted brick structure with a militarily grey door and a small (5-inch square) window. inside the massive gate beside all of this, a gate presided over by a lovely hindu man and one of the most exquisitely beautiful nepali soldiers i've yet encountered--both of whom respond readily to smiles like most people here--another world awaits. it's a world of multi-leveled, horticultured, cobble-stoned luxury, with very expensive cars, swish-ish (it is still the third world) offices and very efficient, if not particularly jovial visa officials.

but before discovering the wonderful world of embassy, i first had to cross the Ring Road.

crossing any road in Kathmandu is an exercise of faith and considerable risk, but i've been practicing and have learned that one does it in carefully strategized stages, though one must be prepared to suddenly shift the strategy when circumstances--like, say a large, swiftly moving bus, or a motorcycle veering out from behind a slowly moving one--demand. waiting for a "break in traffic" would require more time than it would take me to fully understand Kierkegaard, if that's even a possibility. so one picks breaks piecemeal all the way across the road, moving slowly or quickly enough to either be an obstacle that no one will hit, or to avoid being an obstacle that someone will hit. it's a fascinating game. the bonus card is when, out of one of the many corners of one's eyes--since they're all simultaneously active--one spots a local or two also trying to get to the other side. like strangers suddenly caught in the embrace of a lively dance, we make our way among the craziest traffic most people will ever encounter. it's like swimming upstream, because you have to angle your approach according the size, speed, condition and proliferation of traffic. in nepal, traffic jams are a gurl's best friend.

so, like, i made it. i wanted to jump up and down and wave to my taxi driver, who offered to wait while i endured whatever process awaited me in the embassy. but seeing the soldierly face peering at me out of the little square window, i opted for decorum.

it's always a strange feeling leaving my passport in the control of a foreign power that is accessible to me only by a careening, 20-minute taxi ride through a thicket of crazy drivers, bikers, cycylists, rickshaw drivers, pedestrians and the occasional cow. but, after a process that took only about 15 minutes altogether, i was bid to return at 4:30pm to retrieve my passport with the visa, at which time i would be given a receipt.

"ah-HA!" i hear you all thinking. "silly boy. you left without a receipt?!" yes. yes, i did. i think i was still flush with my successful negotiation of the taxi ride, the taxi waiting, crossing the road and actually sitting in a visa officer's tidy office making my application in the freakin' Bangladesh Embassy in Maharajgunj, Kathmandu (and this time it couldn't be apple pie, since that was yet to come), that i simply forgot to think what leaving my passport without a piece of paper to prove that i was ever there might mean in a few hours time.

fortunately, none of this intruded on my bliss until about 3pm.....while i was eating apple pie and ice cream at the 3 Sisters Rooftop Restaurant, chatting with Bharat about the likely outcome of the talks among the government and maoists and goodness knows which players (i don't pay much attention to it) that would end at 4pm today. note to self....

but something has shifted in the last 48 hours. a kind of faith has settled in and, whatever (im)practicalities i might discover back at the Embassy, i was satisfied that i could handle it. another taxi ride, another perilous crossing of the Ring Road, a lovely namaste from the lovely hindu man behind the big, gray gate, a stolen glance at the entire edifice of the incredibly beautiful soldier, then a smile, a little nervous walk around the curving driveway to the embassy building because i was 10 minutes early, and before i could even apologize for being early (because, like, you know, i would be the kind of person to feel the need to do that), i was being waved briskly into the visa officer's office and had my passport--with the visa--and my receipt in my hand by 4:25pm. i almost skipped back out, but settled on a more extravagant namaste for the lovely hindu man in the topi that matches his suit, a wider smile for the soldier and just as big a smile from him, back across the Ring Road into my waiting taxi with the friendly driver and back to Boudha.

phew.

between the morning and afternoon visits to the Bangladesh Embassy, i made my first visit to Child Haven since before i left on trek on october 12. i had a chance to meet with the two senior staff alone (a rare treat since the office is usually as chaotic as the Ring Road) and was able to have a wonderful chat about why the Child Haven experience hadn't worked for me and was able to thank them for their understanding through my fumblings about. it was a fantastic opportunity to clear my heart and the air and to really prepare for the next piece with Bonnie-ma.

i have had a very successful day.

so ya. ebullient. it's a good word.

and it's good to feel that way today.

(it's also the second day of the buddhist full moon celebrations around the stupa and you should all read rod's tales of cambodia...)

bhaktapur & patan - november 3, 2006

whatever angel(s) of mercy watch over me, i prostrate myself before them in gratitude for sparing me the ills that befell me the day i returned to kathmandu from the trek (october 25).

after surviving in some of the most primitive, unsanitary conditions for 14 days in the mountains (some of you will see the photos at some point), eating very little but the national nepali dish of dal bhat tarquari (rice, lentil soup and curried vegetables, sometimes with a spicy pickle), i experienced my first episode of nepal's version of "delhi belly" that evening and most of the next day. just when i thought i'd recovered, i stepped out of the bathroom into the main part of my room at the PRK Guesthouse in Boudha, and felt the familiar slip of something in my spinal column and then the all too familiar spasm that meant SOMETHING SERIOUS had just happened. i spent a couple of days in bed, thankful that i'd had the foresight to bring a full load of Flexoral from canada and praying that a little loving care would lead it gently into subsidence.

fortunately, that seems to have worked for the most part, though i'm still a little tender and have to watch how i move, but i'm still determined to travel with Bonnie on the 6-week junket that begins in just over a week. my latest challenge is trying to get either confirmation that i can get a "landing certificate" at the Dhaka Airport in Bangladesh when i arrive there on November 28 or else get a proper tourist visa from the Bangladesh Embassy in Kathmandu by November 13! since i haven't yet received a photocopy of my airline tickets from those in control of them in Canada, the latter could prove rather difficult. in the end, if i need a visa beforehand and can't get one, i'll have to fly back to nepal from Kolkata and wait for Bonnie to return before leaving for Tibet on December 9. as Nepali's say, ke garne? ["what can you do?"]

yesterday (Friday, November 3), Bahadur hired a driver--a Tamang friend, named Pema, of course--who ferried me and Katherine (the volunteer from Vancouver) to the exquisitely beautiful, medievally constructed city of Bhaktapur, about 40 minutes east of Kathmandu. Its Durbar Square is magnificent and competes for elegance with the Durbar Square of Patan, which we visited in the afternoon. i now have a shoulder bag bedecked in multicoloured elephants and several inexplicable photos involving erotic carvings on the roof supports of the pagoda-like temples.

now, i'm off to get my head shaved and pummeled by the lovely barber with a flair for head massage and chiropractic, eat lunch on a rooftop overlooking Boudhanath Stupa, of which i never seem to tire, and then maybe walk to Pashupatinath.

himalaya - october 12-25, 2006

since words, my customary refuge, have taken refuge somewhere that is effectively inaccessible to me lately (in which, of course, there is more meaning than i can unpack right now), my experience of the himalaya--as overwhelming, ice and snowbound rocks--will remain enigmatic, if not entirely internal for some time.

(barest hint: in the Langtang region, i stood on the summit of a 4984m--that's over 16 000 feet--mountain, Tsergo Ri, just to catch a view of the REAL himalaya, like Lhangshisa Ri, one valley away. think of the Rockies covered in green....then pile another 1 or 2 ice-covered mountain ranges on top of them.)

but the shape and texture--any semblance--of that experience, however, would have been impossible for me without the enormous energy, compassion, patience, kindness and senses of humour of my tireless guide, Bahadur, and his best friend and my porter, Bimi. they happily babbled away in their native Tamang language ahead of me on the trail (except where there was some risk of serious mishap, in which case Bimi insisted on following me). their chatter became just another layer of the harmony of wind, leaves, insects and birds that kept me company for 14 days. but their devotion to my comfort and safety never wavered. my gratitude for their effort is boundless.

of course, there were also the people of the mountains living out their lives filled with cows, yaks, stone-and-mud huts, as well as the endless parade of porters (men and women) bearing enormous loads of supplies for the string of "teahouses" that form small clots along these ancient trails, loads clinging to their backs and slung from thick bands around their foreheads. and then, the women--for it was usually, though not exclusively, women--who prepared my meals. sometimes, because of the cold mornings, i was honoured to sit immediately in front of the immaculate stone and mud stoves in their kitchens with elegant tops for holding all manner of pots and pans while they prepared my breakfast (oat porridge with apple, milk coffee and fresh chapati with peanut butter), and sometimes they did so with small children nestled against their backs in broad, faded pieces of cloth.

so for now, all i can offer of my experience of the himalaya is this:

rhythm

there are as many
as there is

one


(all others are encouraged to visit Nepal. i'm on good terms with a spectacular guide.)