Coconut

All these wonderful cave paintings, carvings, Buddhist stupas, statues. Things that have major religious, artistic, historical, and cultural value. And they all want a photo with the white dude. Go figure.

Notice the one MAJOR problem here?

Are you experienced?

I couldn't help it. I had to do it. The devil made me do it. I swallowed the fly.
Kismet. Fate. Karma. Anyone? Anyone? Well, whether you believe it or not, I think it just happened to me. The first night I was returning from Gun Hill - where I photo'd those Himalayan peaks - and looking for Trek Himalaya. I merely wanted them to take me around to a few places around Mussoorie. A half day here, a day there. WHATEVER. Sort of the Yosemite experience of staying in the valley and seeing the regular tour-bus sights - then saying "I saw Yosemite." Well, yeah, you did, sort-of, especially if you've never been there before - hope this doesn't come across as being a "hater." But I also read of this mini 3-day trek to Nagtibba.

I thought of all the India experiences I've had to date. Most of it. Well, who am I kidding? All of it has been one big project management with cost overruns, missed deadlines, constantly changing goals, going crazy trying to keep the client (me) happy, and generally a good amount of "motions" out of both ends. Thank God for those multiple buckets in the bathroom - Khyati, Shri, Snigdha - I think you know what I'm talking about - best idea ever!
I wanted someone else to be the PM. While scouring my Lonely Planet, algning the map with my compass to find Trek Himalaya, I turned around and the shop was staring at my ass. How cool is that?
Kuldeep, my soon-to-be guide, was there. He had just enough time to do the prep and take me on a three-day trek. Day one: We drive from Mussoorie to Panthwari village, load baggage onto mules. Then it's trek time through terraced fields and (temperate?) jungle to our first camp at 8,000 feet. Day 2: We trek to the top of Nagtibba (about 10,000 ft), check out the scene. Trek it down to a village called Ontar and camp there. Hang with the locals and get loco. Day 3 is supposed to be relaxed level terrain, terraced fields of opium and coca (I just made that up) and trek through some villages a Devdar groves (I have no idea what those are). Guess what's next? Drive back to Mussoorie.
Hah, I have my first Himalayan foothills trek. I meddled with schedule quite a bit. Chucked a few things out to gain what promises to be a gem.
Now, if anything India is not like investing, "past performance does not guarantee future performance..." Past performance guarantees that the future will always be, well India. So "relaxed, level terrain," "moderate" etc... I hope you hear from me again, or else you'll find me on a pyre in Varnasi.

Let you all know what's up later...

Two Questions

Guess what the most often asked questions are?

What is your good name sir? Matthew

What country? USA, America

Oh, America, what do think about Obama? We'll see, he's been Prez for 9 days (or 8 depending on which side of the Int'l Date your on). Looks like America has been able to overcome quite a bit of prejudice/racial zeitgeist to elect a part black/white dude.

What is your profession in America? I'm a geologist.

What's that? Oh, I look for pollution under the ground - in the rocks and the water underground. I use huge drill rigs (here's my artistic license) the size of that Buddhist statue (which happens to be about 35 meters tall - but WTF, I can dream, can't I?), then we analyze the chemicals to see what's toxic. Geologists paint a picture of the underground; then we send in the engineers to design some systems to try and clean the ground.

The response is usually, "huh, that sounds pretty cool." I remark, "Yeah, it is, and India, cough, hack, hack, cough, really needs some geologists and drill rigs."

So I'm in Mussoorie and have been here for two days. The elevation is 2,000 meters, very clear, cool during the days, frackin' freezing, cold even, during the early morning. But it's sunset that the true colors of India's air situation hits. The western sky is absolutely breathtaking. So Hallmark blood red, deep orange. I won't even provide a photo. Your mind is more amazing. The perfection lies in the razor-edge splitting the sky like a water/air interface. The sun sinks through crystal mountain air and hits this false horizon. It's way awesome to watch the sun splat like a tomato and spread across this smoggy haze that fills the Delhi basin. Yummy.

What I will show you is the 180. Ok, so forget all that bullshit above. Yeah, some of your posts are very true. If there was a profession of "Himalayan Mountain Starer" I would take the job. Probably get fired in the first sunset or two. Something about too much extra water in my eyes due to the cold air, yeah, that's it.

For the record, these are my two Himalayan peaks seen by my eyes. Sunlight traveled from The Sun (which sun? oh, The Sun) to those peaks, reflected, and then my rods and cones had the pleasure of intermingling with those blessed rays of light. The Himalayan peaks' names are: Bunderpunch, Srikantha, Pithwara, Gangotri Group. There will be a quiz when I return. Which peak is which and the elevations of each. I can't concern myself with those mere details. HAHAHAHA.

I know Forrest and I were talking about exquisite experiences. Putting this word into my situation is working very easily. Yet I must add absolute spendor and God-like meditative.

Namaste all y'all.

What Next?

Wandering the Earth. Varanasi has been a serious journey. Perfect to follow up after visiting Bodhgaya and the place of Buddha's awakening. Varanasi is the awakening fast track.

It seams that I am settled in here. That means I must move on. Don't want to loose my ability to be the only coconut (that's my new name "the coconut" because the kids think, well you get it, my cabeza is a freaking coconut) at train stations and buying tickets and going to 17 different only to manage to miss my train anyway; jostling through autorickshaw row exiting any bus or train stop; getting used to the new scams in a new place. It's all good. Frustrating as all frack...but good.

I've been patiently waiting for the mountains and now I am going to inject the mountains into my being. I leave Sunday to Delhi. Then spend the night at the airport - hopefully security is down with that. On Monday fly to Dehra Dun's Jolly Grant Airport. It's the bestest name ever for an airport in the Himilaya foothills?

The plan is to explore some of Dehra Dun, Mussoorie, Rishikesh, Rajaji National Park, Corbett Tiger Preserve, and Haridwar. The final step is the Shatabdi Express from Haridwar to Delhi. Explore Delhi a few days then fly to the USA.

You know in Pulp Fiction when Vincent is talking to Jules about going to Amsterdam. He says, roughly paraphrased, "it's the small things that are different." "For instance?" "Well, they like their fries with mayonaise. They drown them in that shit." "Yuk." "And when you go into (was it a movie theatre?) they serve you beer. And I don't mean no beer in a paper cup. I mean a beer in a glass."

India has no small things that are different.

I'm looking forward to the mountains. Small things indeed? India has to do everything in superlatives. USA has 14ers (feet). Uttarakhand has the "lower" 7,000 meter Himalayan peaks - especially well-known is Nanda Devi (7816m) - ok, so it's not a lower 7,000m peak, it's an exception, an "outlier." What? What?

Cheers, love, peace, Target beer to all.

ps - thank you all for any and all comments. Those are much appreciated links back to my friends and family. That is another constant topic of Indian discussion - importance of family and friends. So thanks you wankers! Ciao.

Burning is Learning

I have no pictures for this. Only mental images. Only what I can paint divided by 1,000 words. Varanasi is a place to become lost, yet strangely you find out about what you "think" (which is another construction), what you own, what you did with your life, whatever karma, sins, goodness, job, loving, hating.

I've seen at least three dozen human body cremations. It's just supposed to be carbon and water, but it makes what we are and how we live and breathe and communicate. Then your physical body ceases to live. It's wrapped in cloth, dipped in the holy Ganga (not misspelled), wood is carefully weighed out, a fire that's been burning continuously for thousands of years is used to light the individual pyre. All you are goes to smoke and ash. It's open for the public to view. Tourists alike can stop to gaze, gander, pray, whatever motivates them.

Last night, and the night is the most spiritually tidal and head clearing, yet surreal. The fires are set against the dark ghats - Manikarnika is particularly smoke-stained black. I spoke to an Indian gentleman for about two hours. At first I was all porcupine-hair raised waiting for the rupee-vortex to form. It never did. We spoke about this 4,000 year old Hindu tradition taking place at select places on the Ganga. I was able to contrast that with our Western traditions of death and burial/cremation. I can't go into all the details because I was transfixed by the scene and the mere conversation taking place by an Indian Hindu who was there cremating his grandfather. Not once did he express the usual grief we do. I had complete emptiness - a good, cleansing emptiness - that after all I've seen in India, here in Varanasi, with death (and death is curiously never mentioned), this is finally the Incredible India that I thought existed. Just some small town somewhat isolated from major population centers. There is no Taj Mahal here. No Ajanta rock carvings. Just watching the reality of flesh burn away and the remainder of the big bones, the pelvis, sometimes the ribs, are placed into the Ganga.

I have heard from one vendor that when he can't sleep, he wanders to the main burning ghat and meditates for a time. Then worries vaporize and perspective shift - it's called "Burning is Learning."

Weirdest City on a River

Varanasi wins the award. And I love it. This is the most relaxed I've been the entire trip. I would never have thought that some city taking 2nd or 3rd place to Agra, Jaipur, Delhi, Mumbai, Kolkata, Goa, Kerala, etc... could be so interesting.

I've been wandering the arms' width alleys, the ghats, the vendors' shops that line the alleys, eating food from various restaurants just because they are there and menu's fare sounds delectable.

I had first real Indian yoga class here. No Western brand. I guess you could call it hatha for lack of a better descritption. Today I am feeling like iron thrown against the wall and turned to putty. Sooo good.

I've seen the two "burning" ghats where families' take their dead to be creamated on pyres near the holy Ganges. After the creamation, the ashes are let into the river. This is perhaps, for a Hindu, the most auspicious way to pass into the next life.

Tons of offers for boat rides on the Ganges. I've been laughing because the offer is "cheap for you my friend, only 100 rupees." But my wacky humor knows it's 100 rupees to the other side and 600 rupees back.

By the way, the ghats, what are "ghats"? Well, they are like piers but they run parallel to the river. each ghat has a somewhat distinct flavor and design. Some are more grandios than others - the ghats built by maharajas have spectacular temples and shrines.

Many Indians do bathe in the Ganges regardless of the water condition. And working in that particular profession, and even if you don't, I am amazed at the willingness with which people enter the water. There is absolutely no sewage control, trash control, water buffalo control, nothing. It struck me funny the contrast that when in CA, if we have a heavy rain, the beaches are closed due to 0.001 ppm of methyethyl death. We are truly blessed to have the environmental controls we have - sometimes I wonder about the excess we freak out. But, that's the way of the world of my friends. Now, the Indians see foreign tourists (department of redundancy department) as walking dollars, I see Indian pollution remediation as serious dollars.

So as Varanasi goes, it is a town that now I understand Dawn's description - "you are just so happy to actually make it back home to bed that night. That's the day's accomplishment." I now have lived that. Almost been crushed by a water buffalo in the alleys, or run over by a motorbike, or lost for ever into the black hole created by the Super Conductor below Switzerland - it is in Varanasi.

Bodhgaya

Siddhartha Gautama became no longer. He became Buddha.

This, nothing can negative can be said. The dust, dirt, and craziness was worth it again. I would need to outrun my smokers cough first.

All I say is: Devotion.

It's not often that someone can visit the exact location where a major spiritual transformation occurred. There are few places on Earth where you can feel this energy. I would say that once in a lifetime, experience the birthplace of any spirituality. At the time I was there, there was some Buddhist "convention" or gathering of some type - the name of which escapes me. That is not the point.

However, Bodhgaya was awash in the real maroon robes of life-long devotees of Buddha from around the Asian world. I visited their monasteries: Japan, Thailand, Tiawan, Indian, Bhutan, Indonesian, Nepali, Vietnam. If there was ever a Major Cool in the Army, this is where he served.

I have two photos: One is where Siddhartha sat for six years without food or water. In a little cave. In the middle of the desert. In the middle of a rock cliff.

The second photo is at the Mahabodhi Temple. After six years in the cliff cave, Siddhartha emerged (this is a greatly simplified story because I think 15 people want to use this computer) and sat under the Bodhi Tree and became enlightened. A descendent of the original Bodhi Tree grows at the exact location behind the golden Buddha. I was there at night so the photo did not turn out - but the video was perfect, especially with the chanting.