Varkala

Varkala

With the decreased likelihood of going to Bali, we decided to get some beach time here in India. The main place to go for beaches in India is Goa, which was a Portuguese colony and has as much of a European flavor as Indian. It is also highly developed for tourism. While it is probably great, we decided to head into Kerala for perhaps a quieter beach, and settled into Varkala.

Swimming in the warm Arabian Sea, eating, lounging, reading, swimming, napping, eating, swimming, ...ah what a rough life!

Varkala and Odayam Beaches

Varkala is still small, although growing rapidly. The main beach still has some fisherman in the mornings and Hindu worshippers at sunset, but is covered with western sun worshippers at mid-day. Generally, the westerners keep to one end of the beach (with their scant clothing) and the Indians to the other (with women in sarees). It is not a strict segregation but seems to be each group showing respect for the other. Westerners walking past the portion predominated with Indians generally cover up as a courtesy. Many of the residents have shifted their lifestyle, and now sell clothing, trinkets or food to the tourists. We stayed about a 30-45 minute walk north of the main beach, in the hamlet of Odayam. We could walk to the German Bakery at the main beach and get apple strudel, or stay up north and help the fisherman bring in the nets in the morning, or listen to the call to prayer at the Mosque. There were very few westerners in Odayam (actually just us). The tiny hamlet was very quiet and secluded, although one night someone pumped Indian music through their loudspeakers much of the night!

The Muslim family stay with are excellent hosts and treat us as family. They worry if we stay out too late. They spoil us with tea and food. In fact, the morning we arrive, we are immediately served a sumptuous breakfast and instructed to rest!

In this village, the fishermen work together, starting many hours before sunrise. A few men go out 2 km into the ocean with boats and cast the nets, feeding the long ropes all of the way back to the shoreline. At about sunbreak, everyone else joins on the beach for 60-90 minutes of pulling on the rope. When we showed up to take pictures, we were "ordered" to start pulling --this is a fishing community and everyone works! 

Eventually the days catch is pulled in, and the local shopkeepers and restaurateurs show up to argue over price and buy the catch. One day the fishermen themselves get into quite a shouting match, and the next morning there is no fishing! Presumably they patched it up as fishing resumed again the next day.

Festival at Varkala

One night, we joined a festival at a local Hindu temple. The festival started with a parade into town, led first by a marching brass band in full uniform, then some dancers, a marching band with local instruments, caparisoned elephants, Kathakali dancing, and finally a percussion band. About seven elephants joined in the parade, led by perhaps the largest Asian elephant I have seen (and yes, those are Asian elephants in the world-famous breeding program at the Portland Zoo). After the parade was a ceremony only for Hindus inside the temple, and then a great all-night performance of music and dance on a stage set up outside the temple. We watched the intricate Kathakali dancers, but I must admit I was most taken in by the mridangam drumming. Kathakali dancing is mostly drama with singing and gestures, especially movements of the hands (mudras) and expressions on the face. The costumes are elaborate blooming dresses, and the makeup completely covers the face, much like a mask. The dancers barely move except for their hands and eyes, while a singer and four drummers improvise rhythms that I couldn't possibly follow but sure enjoyed. (They play to a 16-count with accents on the 1st, 5th and 13th count, but this is counterpointed with stuff I couldn't figure out.) We would later see two of these same drummers at a large festival in Quillion, so while I don't know names, I'll bet they are well known performers.

Kunnykamari

We took a side trip to Kunnykamari, the southernmost tip of India, to watch the sunset.  The Indian Ocean and Arabian Sea literally break over the jutting rocks and sand to meet at this point, and important Hindu Pilgrmage site.  The waves roll in from both oceans, in opposing directions, so there is one outcropping of rocks and sand that has waves alternately passing over it from right to left, and thex left to right as the oceans mix.

The sunset was great, but we really actually enjoyed the next morning even more. We rambled about on a motorcycle and peeked into little hamlets in Tamil Nadu. Known as one of the warmest peoples in India, the Tamils greeted us everywhere. We stopped at one point when a little parade came down the street. We soon discovered they were headed to the church for a wedding, and we were invited! We watched as the nervous (even fearful) bride and groom (who had met each other only one brief time in this arranged marriage) went through the Christian rituals. The attendees were quite joyous, but I'd have to report you sure couldn't say that about the wedding couple. They were just scared!

We stopped to watch a family making rope from coconut fiber. (Jute is still a leading domestic agricultural crop for India, even though the rope is inferior to alternatives and export has dried up.) Three family members would each pick up a pile of fiber, hook a bit over a nail, and begin spinning out fiber at a rate of maybe 30 feet (10 meters) in under a minute. Then the three yarns would be twisted together into rope in one quick motion. The speed with which they worked was impressive! Possibly they were trying to complete the task before the heat of the day. They were able to work together as a family, children and parents alike, and I thought how great that would be both for developing the character and skills of the youth as well as just to be together. Our style of work in the west, where everyone goes off in different directions, exacts a heavy toll on families that I more fully appreciate when I see families that work together.

Kerala backwaters

We took a day off, paddling a canoe through the backwaters of Kerala, at Kapil Beach. The ocean backs into the rivers, and the area is a mix of lagoons and rivers, land and islands. We paddled amid the white egrets and other water birds, passed a Mosque, passed a school where the children were just leaving (all dressed in their blue uniforms), and pulled over when a local hailed us to stop and have a coconut with him. Coconuts are incredibly refreshing and filling, and we had two each! Many hours of paddling (and applications of sunscreen) later, we returned back, quite rejuvenated. There is something about natural beauty that calms and fills our spirits.

Quillon festival

We took another side trip, up to Quillon, the usual spot for backwater trips. Instead we went for a large week-long regional music and dance festival. We rented a motor scooter and spent all day wandering up to the festival (otherwise just over an hour's ride) and again found many backwater villages. The ocean backs into many bays and estuaries, so that the region for several miles inland from the coast is a wonderland of forested islands and blue rivers and lakes. This area is just so pretty. Unlike the northern or poor areas, there is little litter, the houses are solid and maintained, and the people seem satisfied with their lives. It is easy to imagine living here, and it fits well with the simple lifestyle that we have come to appreciate.

We had an interesting dinner. While Fran was eating her meal, a cockroach dropped from the ceiling and landed in her plate. She brushed it aside, rather than considering it a delicacy as the Chinese do.

We arrived at the outdoor dance festival ready for the 7 PM start, but it didn't get going until 8 PM. By then, there were thunderstorms in the mountains, but the locals didn't seem to worry so we ignored them. We found the same phenomenal drummers performing on this large stage as at the small festival in Varkala. Again they were simply mesmerizing. This time, the music was a fusion of east and west, with some westerners playing western (or eastern) instruments along with the India musicians. A dancer performed some of the most graceful and acrobatic dance movements I have ever seen.

The lightening got closer and closer and at 9PM everyone began to scramble. We made it to the scooter and down the road no more than five minutes before the downpour hit. It quickly flooded the streets to a depth of 3-6 inches. We knew from the downpour earlier in the week that it might just last an hour or so, so we huddled under a bus shelter. We also knew that once we were wet we could only go a few kilometers an hour on the scooter or wind-chill would be an issue, and that would turn the hour long journey into a ten-hour all-night ride. So we just waited. By 10 PM it stopped and we made it back safe and dry. In fact as we turned the lock on the guest house door, a second rain started to fall....

Train to Bombay (Mumbai)

In most of India, getting a train ticket is reputed to be a difficult chore, but is really quite easy. With computerized bookings, it is possible to make bookings in advance for any train in India. Unfortunately, Varkala is not one of those places, and has no computerized reservation office. So we could only buy a second class ticket (wooden bench seat) and try to upgrade with the conductor once on the train. The ticket office couldn't tell if the train had space in advance, and worse case there would be standing room only.

It was worst case. There were no spaces in 2AC (second class air condition), 3AC (third class air condition), nor sleeper class. In fact there weren't even any seats in second class: just standing room in the hot, un-air-conditioned cars. After a few trying moments however we figured out that there was some air conditioned space for the first part of the journey and that after that people would board and take the seats. So we upgraded that portion of our ticket and headed off. We then got bumped out of those seats in Goa and hoped off the train. Time to begin scrambling. Actually it turned out great --we ate lunch and then found a comfortable express train on up to Bombay. Being a faster train, we arrived almost as fast as if we had not been bumped, and were quite comfortable. Regardless we determined that we would not try to take trains without confirmed reservations again!

From Mysore to Ooty

From Mysore to Ooty

We waved good-bye to our good friends in Bangalore (http://groups.msn.com/AdventuresofRodFran/bangalore.msnw) and set out for the next installment of our journey...the city of Mysore. We hopped on the government bus for the short 3 hour trip. While the bus did not have the frills of a tourist bus...smooth suspension, a seat for all, movies and room for luggage...it got us to our destination. It also gave us the added benefit of getting to chat with local people.

First stop is at Mysore for 24 hours. Our first experience on stepping out of the bus was dealing firmly with the aggressive touts wanting to direct you to a hotel (for a hidden additional charge on the room rate) or to sell you any number of trinkets. They are soon joined by the auto rickshaw drivers who make a clear distinction between honesty and doing business. Honesty is a religious concept; never should religion interfere with business! When you refuse their services, you are followed by a parade of drivers and touts who will secretly sneak into the hotel after you check in to get their unearned commission. Yes, at first glance Mysore was just like every city and village we visited in our travels.

Upon exploring the area surrounding our hotel, we found, though, what sets Mysore apart from other cities: its palaces. From the 15th century to independence (from Britain) in 1947 it was the capital of a princely state. Ruled by the Wodeyar dynasty, the city is strewn with grand palaces, Maharaja haunts, monuments and temples. We decided on an excursion to the nearby richly ornate palace. We wanted to see for ourselves how the rich and famous of yesteryear lived.

We walked up to a gate through which we could see the grand entrance to the palace. Here, by way of conversation, we confirmed that our lack of confidence in touts was well placed. A friendly chap struck up an innocent conversation with us as we took pictures of the entrance through the closed gate. He softly told us that, as today was the King's anniversary, the palace was closed in the morning and would open in an hour and a half. When asked who were the people walking around inside, he said that they were workers preparing the garden for the King. He said that we could take pictures of the King's guards if we wished. He summoned over a man in khaki uniform and turban who obediently allowed us to take his picture. When done the guard held out his hand for "baksish" but refused the 4 rupees that was offered. Hum...

The "friend" said that his friend owns a silk shop. He would be glad to show us the shop while we were waiting for the palace to open! How generous...he would take us there in his rickshaw for free! And we wouldn't have to buy a thing, we could just look. All the while, we know that there is no King and no anniversary and the guard is probably a fake, too. So we smile kindly and refuse his offers, stating that we would much prefer a stroll around the area.

What a surprise we had when we approached the next gate to the palace. It was wide open for tourists! The sad thing is that dishonesty is so expected by us; we understand that for many a small business man it is a common business practice. But these flagrant attempts to dupe us are very disillusioning, none the less.

A tour of the palace revealed opulence and splendor. The frescoes were brilliantly colored, the stained glass domes shed multi-colored light into the rooms, the marble inlays were exquisite, the rosewood and silver doors were intricately carved, and the onion shaped towers raised high into the sky. There were thrones made of crystal glass and thrones of tooled gold. There were grandstands to watch parades of richly decorated elephants, carrying princes offering splendid goods from all over the world. Although the days of the dynasty are long past, it was possible to catch an echo of its grandeur in the empty halls and passageways. India has always had its rich people, then and now. The very few live in luxury while the masses live in squalor. In the past few decades there has been a rise of a middle class with comfortable but moderate means, such as we saw in Bangalore, and it seems to us that the hope for India's future lies in the expansion of the middle class.

Next stop Ooty; duration 48 hours.

Ooty, 2240 m (7200 ft) above sea level, is a hill station nestled in the mountains where the Eastern & Western Ghats (mountain ranges) meet in southern India. When the British ruled India, they would escape from the suffocating summer heat of the plains to the coolness of the hills. They built many seasonal administrative stations in the hills; Ooty is one of them.

For us Ooty was a whistle stop on our trip from Bangalore to the beaches on the west coast. Although the heat in February in Bangalore is not overbearing, we did experience a temperature difference. We again pulled the coats and warm clothes out of the backpacks; this after we hoped we were done with them for the season. (Later when you will read about Kerala, you will find that we had no need for the coats there.)

For each of us it will be remembered differently. Rod will remember the inside of the hotel room as he slept his way to better health. Every few months each of us needs to take a day to calm the churning stomach. Rod finally surrendered to take time for recovery. Fran, on the other hand, will remember long walks at sunrise with the mists rising over the Ooty Lake.

Ooty is a small village set on several hills overlooking a lake. Like many Indian villages, you have to look beyond the dirt and rubbish piles to see the charm. The lake is surrounded by litter and cows rummage through piles of discarded vegetables in the market. But charm it does have. Women with sweet scented flowers in their hair and brightly colored saris walk the streets. The morning mists rising over the lake are magical. The smell of eucalyptus, from which the locals make oil, is pervasive. And one can not neglect mentioning the toy train.

The locals call it the toy train because it is diminutive In size. It Is led by a steam locomotive and chugs up the narrow gauge rail at a pace not much faster than walking. The train evoked memories of snuggling down under the covers reading bedtime stories to our sons. Although more than 20 years have past, the words still roll through our minds…"The Huff and Puff Express is rolling, rolling down the track, the Huff and Puff Express is rolling, …clickity, clickity, clack."

The train of our memory rolled in "pillow clouds of steam" past barnyards and brickyards. The present day train rolls past strange lands unimaginable to us in yesteryear. It travels through tea plantations planted on steep hillsides; the tufted plants forming mosaic patterns of green and brown. Mountain streams rush by houses made of stone. Monkeys swing fearlessly through the limbs of eucalyptus trees. Taxis travel the roads which form impossible hairpin turns as they curve up the mountainside. Brown skinned boys stick their heads out the train window to catch the steam of the engines in their faces.

Rod eventually got a walk into the village to experience the market, with its food, smells, flowers, crafts, trinkets, and cons. Somewhere in the market is someone who can do most anything you need, whether sell a pencil or repair a bicycle. If you can't get it among the shacks and mud paths of the market, then you probably don't really need it.

We came away from the village with different memories. Whether it was chasing mists and shadow in the early morning hours, chasing memories of storybook trains, or recuperating indoors; we shared a common feeling that Ooty was indeed a curative break from the annoyances of traveling.

Spirituality

Spirituality

This trip began as one with a vague notion of adventure and personal growth.

As we discarded our house, possessions, and ties we found ourselves experiencing a great release and joy. Our stresses of life were bound to all of the stuff and activities that we thought were part of normal life. Once we lived in just a tiny one-bedroom cottage with the simplest of furnishings we found that our minds relaxed. No more cars and commutes. Household chores became a pleasure instead of a burden. We did not really anticipate these great benefits of shedding all of our stuff, and were just downsizing since we had finished the family-raising phase of our life and getting rid of stuff in preparation for our trip. But we discovered some basic truths of a simple life, and liked it. Stresses melted away.

In Pasadena we attended a Unitarian church. It had a great feel --inspiring, ethical people engaged in social action. Not much dogma, but instead encouraging and even demanding active exploration of beliefs. We read a book or two and re-opened our eyes to questions and thoughts we had deferred for twenty five years.

Starting the trip in Japan, we were drawn to the Buddhist temples and wondered about their meaning. We watched people pray and prostrate at public temples, give offerings and then disappear back into the crowd. Religion was not something done only on Sundays, but just part of ordinary life.

We saw monks in Thailand, rejecting nearly everything material, relying on the generosity of others even for their daily food. The lay people supported them as part of their own practice.

We attended a meditation retreat without a clear understanding of why, but needing to get in touch with something. We didn't really understand much of what was taught. In fact, it seemed way too dry, too focused on self enlightenment, devoid of any meaning here on earth.

In China, we learned the importance of a theological belief. During communism, the fundamental belief was that everyone was contributing, that no one is more important that any others, and that projecting yourself ahead of others was immoral. These beliefs supplanted religion as a basis for determining proper social behavior. With the retreat of communism from economics and religion, a spiritual void was created. Some filled it with capitalism (and the corresponding rise of greed, depression, drug use, ...) but others are still searching.

In Africa, we saw the importance of religion at the family level. Both Muslim and Christian practices were strongly supporting the development of the family. Both provided great support and joy, with tight families. In India, we saw the power of the traditions in bringing together a community through the Jewish Sabbath celebration.

We listened to the Buddhist teachings at McLeod Ganj, and read introductory books. The teachings seemed to help bring our fuzzy ideas into a little better focus. At least, it seemed like a path worth following to develop our own beliefs. We continued to read, attend teachings, and join more retreats.

Ironically, studying Buddhism has helped us to understand Christianity better. Buddhism adds the element of meditation (calming and sharpening the mind) which in Christianity is usually reserved for monks. Christianity emphasizes compassion in our daily lives, which we thought was lacking in Thai Buddhism. In fact, both traditions include both elements. Buddha's teachings of compassion are preserved in Mahayana traditions of other countries. The Christian religious leaders preserve meditative practices in the monasteries.

The basic teachings are very similar in their implications for our daily life. At the esoteric level, Buddhism includes more detailed metaphysical explanations of reality, but in fact the Buddha himself was not too interested in these topics since they can lead to intellectual debate instead of spiritual practice. Instead, both traditions emphasize ethical living and working for the happiness of others.

I have always been skeptical of the miracles and stories of the new testament. Since it was passed down as an oral tradition before being written, there was plenty of chance for alteration. Adding a few miraculous tales was bound to help get the attention of the commoners! But in India my mind opens up to more possibilities.

The western mind has taken the powerful scientific method of requiring empirical evidence to evaluate alternative ideas, and replaced it with the easier approach of just rejecting that which is not understood. That is not the scientific method either --it is just laziness. The true sign of intelligence is the ability to hold conflicting thoughts simultaneously, and the role of science is to use evidence to discount some of those ideas. Science actually rarely proves anything correct, only slowly prunes ideas contradicted by evidence. Those ideas for which no evidence exists can neither be considered true or false, they are just ideas for which we have not figured out how to find evidence in support or opposition, so are outside the realm of science but not invalid.

In Christianity, faith is simply demanded. Followers are told to accept as a matter of faith the immaculate conception, the miracles of loaves and fishes, the healings, the resurrection, and that Jesus is the son of God. In Buddhism faith is equally important, but is not demanded. Instead there is a gradual path while faith develops. At first, practitioners are told to not accept anything unless they experience the truth first hand. Skepticism is encouraged, and this produces stronger faith eventually.

For example, do not just assume that we should help others. Instead think deeply about times that we were kind and about times we were not. What was the effect on the other person? On ourselves? What can we tangibly say was different? What was the effect on our mind (calming or agitating?). What did we feel in our stomachs, or in the rush of blood to the face. What was pleasant, or what interfered with clear thinking? What were the consequences for us and others? Only once we amass the evidence that helping others is a good practice should we strive to become more compassionate. This helps cultivate a deep understanding. For example, we will find the benefits of helping others so great that any rewards of recognition will fall short. Instead, the benefits are more subtle, more internal, and more personal. We see that our motivation is a very important component of helping others. If we discover that we are helping others only in appearance, but really our motivation is selfish, then we find that the benefits are just that recognition, which inevitably is insufficient and we end up feeling under appreciated. By being very deliberate and conscious of the state of our mind, we can easily judge good and bad, right and wrong.

It is this type of deep understanding of ourselves and our mind that leads Buddhists to develop faith. The basic creed of ethics of Christianity and Buddhism is the same. The difference is that the Buddhist has developed conviction through personal experience. That helps during difficult times. There is no thought of situational ethics, or of what we can get away with. Whenever rules are externally imposed, we try to renegotiate them, to bend them. We do not know the exact limits and can convince ourselves of exceptions in grey zones. In Buddhism, the rules are internal personal rules, based on experience, so there is no way to bend the rules. We know the consequences. Or if we do not, then we can experiment and watch the consequences. If we are properly observant, we will deepen our understanding of right and wrong.

So ultimately spirituality is becoming very simple for us. It is a matter of living deliberately, based on ethics and compassion for others, and reflecting on our actions and the consequences. One reality quickly realized is that thought precedes all speech and action. Calming and sharpening the mind is the way to improve the quality of our speech and action. This is the key element of Buddhism that we found helps explain the path perhaps better than Christianity --it provides the "how" to develop into a better person, more in keeping with the examples of Jesus or Buddha. Calming and sharpening the mind are the keys to gaining understanding about ourselves, which necessarily precedes understanding others.

Much of the torment that we face, we create ourselves. For example, we are frustrated when we cannot acquire something. Why? Frustration is simply the difference between expectation and reality. We created expectation that did not come true. The problem itself is not real. It is our own fantasy, our own made-up expectations. The same is true when we feel undervalued, or slighted by others. Others just say words to us. We choose their meaning and our reaction. We make elaborate expectations of what people should say, and then we create even more elaborate interpretations of what they did say, and why. But in reality, all there is, is just the words. That is all. We create so much frustration by getting tangled up in our own mental creations. Such is the value of a calm and sharpened mind. We can simply allow things to be as they are. 

For example, a sound in the middle of the night is just that. It is not an evil neighbor plotting to keep us awake. It is not the cause of poor sleep, and grouchiness the next day. It is just a sound. Our mind created all of the other garbage that we attach to it. Interestingly the more that we consider things this way, the less important they become. Our frustrations, despair and suffering just seem to melt away. And a deep inner peace arises.

We also find that shallow happiness through pleasure is uninteresting. We even see it sometimes as a source of frustration, since we cannot always have pleasure. We all know that drug addicts start seeking pleasure and end up miserably controlled by the drugs. But we do not recognize that we do the same when we get attached to following the latest trend, taking meals at nice restaurants, having the latest gadget, or such. We get only a short pleasure and then need more. Fran and I learned this lesson with the great release as we abandoned the material accumulations. The less that we had and the less we desired, the happier we were. It was a much more profound happiness than that acquired through all of the possessions. Especially as we travel we see that the happiest people are those living very simple lives.

So we achieve great inner calm by neither judging things to be good or bad, but just accepting them as they are. Clearly that does not mean that we accept things that are wrong --if we can stop a thief we should do so (as Fran did on the train in China, much to his surprise!). But we need not wrap everything up in complicated mental constructions. Even the thievery is simply that --a man reached out and took another's wallet. Fran just took the wallet back and returned it to the owner. That is all. She did not need to imagine all of the motivation of the thief, his evil nature, his bad upbringing, or conjure up notions of the corrupt nature of all Chinese. We make all of that up, and it gets in the way. Life is much simpler than we make it out to be. If we just observe what is really there, before we add all the baggage to it, then it is easy to live each day.

Ultimately we realize that the way to real happiness is by helping others. Not because of some religious doctrine, or to secure a place in heaven, and not to get recognition. But simply because it turns out that that is the way our souls and our minds work --that is what produces the most profound joy. We shed the temporary pleasures, quit worrying over all of life's speed bumps, and just live life in the present. A good creed is to live each day so that there are no regrets if you die tonight. When we think of death we do not usually worry whether we might not have purchased a new car in time, but instead worry that we have done our best for those people around us. Once we are really in touch with ourselves, with a calm and sharp mind, our focus will naturally be to serve others. We see that that is the path to joy, and follow it. So the path is simple --calm the mind by discarding our desires and aversions, sharpen the mind through careful observation of the effect of our thoughts, speech and actions, and then follow our natural inclination to serve others. It doesn't really matter what religion you call it. What matters is that we find a path and begin deliberately walking it.

Mahatma Gandhi summed it up:

• Living ethically requires seeing things just as they are, avoiding the passions of aversion or attraction, and especially the emotion of anger.
• Living ethically and developing mental concentration enable self purification (pure motivation, consistent with a deep understanding of truth).
• Purity of self enables a life of non-violence/non-harm (ensuring that our actions have no negative consequence for others).
• Embracing ALL other living beings as equally important to you and living a life of non-violence/non-harm enables experiencing the full breadth of divine truth.
• The only God is divine truth.

Bangalore

Bangalore

Bangalore is ideally situated on the plateau in southern India. The weather is perfect eight months of the year (the summers are scorching hot and then wet). This led to the military setting up a facility there, which was sort of the last stop towards retirement. Many stayed there, and the place flourished with parks.

A few decades ago, Texas Instruments set up a software development facility in Bangalore, the first of its kind. Since then, the top software developers in India have migrated to Bangalore, and most major companies now have large facilities, including Microsoft, HP, IBM, and everyone else. Four years ago I first visited Bangalore in connection with the software development facility of Tektronix. Software is a leading export in India now, and Bangalore still dominates the country.

The combination of natural beauty, a retirement atmosphere, and the prosperity and western leanings of the high tech industry makes for an unusual Indian town. Sure, there are still the rickshaws and cows in the street, and monkeys in the trees. But after the extensive travels that we have done in poorer areas of India and China, Bangalore looks like a city in the USA!

Unlike elsewhere, many Bangalore residents own cars, and the city is developing highways as fast as possible to connect the new suburbs. Very comfortable housing is being built rapidly, much with a very American feel. Many of the software engineers have been in the USA, either for school or a stint of employment, and combine an appreciation for some of the elements of the USA with a desire to live in their home country. Bangalore is the natural result of this fusion.

We stayed downtown, near MG (Mahatma Gandhi) Road so everything we needed was within walking distance. This area has Indian hotels and restaurants intermixed with western fashion outlets and Pizza Hut! We stayed at a Muslim hotel, rumored to have some of the best Muslim dinners in town. (We didn't manage to eat any dinners there, but a couple of breakfasts were great!).

To the south of MG Road lies Lal Bagh gardens. Just the week before we arrived was the annual floral show, famous throughout the country. We missed that, but enjoyed the peaceful solitude of the botanical gardens. We walked back through Cubbon Park, which is sort of the city's playground and lungs. It is filled with families, children, and young couples.

At one point during our walking, I recognized a street corner from my prior trip four years ago. After another turn or two, poof --I was back at the office! It still has the Tektronix sign on the door. (The group I worked for has since been sold to Xerox, and the development lab has been spun off as a new company, Celstream, and relocated.)

While Bangalore is a lovely place, the real reason we came here was to see old friends. And, boy, were we busy on the weekend! Starting Saturday morning and lasting through Sunday evening, we only had 5.75 hours that we weren't with someone, doing something. It was great! Shunu served us an authentic Indian breakfast in his home, then Anant had a large dinner party where we could see old friends again, then Aparna took us to a late-night dance festival, Murali took us to his Ashram and home on Sunday morning, and Nithi served us a great home-cooked dinner. The generosity was amazing! Thank you everyone!

The Nrithyagram dance festival deserves special mention. Just north of Bangalore, the late Gauri Maa started a dance school to preserve the Indian culture and make it available to everyone, not just the privileged class. A remarkable woman, she established a center with such love and devotion that people still adore her today. http://www.evesindia.com/bold-beauty/skindeep/protima.html She started a tradition of an annual festival, Vasantahabba, and because she was held in such high esteem the best performers in India would come. Even now, after her death, the top performers consider it an honor to her memory to come to the festival.

We arrived too late to see the dancers. But we arrived just as the musicians took over, and they were amazing. Unfortunately I do not have any program notes from the session. The first performance was of an exceptional flutist and percussion. The second was a modified Hawaiian guitar and percussion. I am too ignorant to describe it more, other than to say I just found the performances to be staggering. Wow!

Ajanta and Ellora Caves

Ajanta and Ellora Caves

Near central India, the Ellora caves were carved into rock along a river cliff starting around 300 AD. As a testimony to peaceful co-existence, Hindu, Jain and Buddhist followers inhabited and expanded these caves for nearly 1000 years. Check out http://www.indiantravelportal.com/maharashtra/caves/ajanta-caves.html

The caves are carved directly into the rock face. Some are temples (places of worship) and others are monasteries (residences). The monasteries are large central rooms supported by pillars, ringed with tiny cubicles for each pair of monks. The cells consisted just of two stone sleeping shelves -extremely austere!

The Ellora caves are now a protected World Heritage site, but have been vandalized in the past. Some are little more than bat caves (and smell accordingly!). But there are still plenty of hints in the stone walls, floors and ceilings. The caves were excavated into the stone, floors laid with stone or mud, and walls and ceilings plastered and then painted with beautiful religious murals. Alcoves were carved leaving religious statuary such as gods and goddesses.

The most astounding cave temple is #16. In this case, both the exterior and interior were carved. That is, a full temple has been created from the single rock, chiseling away the exterior to create a magnificent facade and chiseling away the interior for the rooms. But it is not even just one temple. Instead there is a full courtyard with elephants and other statues, many pillars and shrines, several temple buildings, and residential rooms. The whole is shaped to resemble the sacred Mt Kailish in Tibet. This does deserve the title as one of the world's wonders.

Unlike the Ellora caves, the Ajanta caves were not known to exist until recently. Dating from 300 BC-600 AD, even older than Ellora, they were overgrown with jungle and forgotten until a British hunting party stumbled upon them. Subsequently they have been quite well preserved, and the government of India has done a remarkable job of protecting and displaying them. The area has the feel of a National Park in the west, for example with just the appropriate amount of artificial lighting in the caves. The setting is a beautiful bend in the river, and a green park lies on the river bank. (Green is a rare and welcome sight in India!)

The Ajanta caves were exclusively Buddhist, starting from just after the time of Buddha and continuing until Buddhism in India was absorbed back into Hinduism around 700 AD. We walked through magnificent cave after cave. The earliest caves do not depict Buddha (since that was discouraged by the Buddha), while the later ones have magnificent statues (as his admonishments were set aside with time). We went through the first several caves as tourists, flashing photos between the groups of school children. But we wanted to experience the caves more thoroughly. We stopped a couple of times, but were always interrupted by other tourists. Finally, near the end, a quartet of Thai monks was praying in one cave. We quietly joined, as did another westerner. This set the tone and other tourists respected the quiet. We could see how special these places were --we could feel the spirituality as we sat. We regretted that there was no time set aside for devotional practice, such as we saw at the great cathedrals in Europe, which balanced the flow of tourists and the sanctity of practitioners.

Varanasi

Varanasi

A day on the Ganges River

Varanasi is a most ancient and holy city. It was known as Benares to Buddha 2,500 years ago. Over a century ago Mark Twain remarked that it is 'older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together'. Its location on the bank of the Ganges River in India makes it a holy pilgrimage site. Upon visiting some parts of the city, we believed it possible that the tempo of life has continued unchanged for centuries. Here are our impressions of the city.

Staying at a guesthouse on the river gave us the chance to experience life on the river firsthand. The day flows with the current of the river, activity starting before dawn. The first sounds are of the washer wallahs rhythmically pounding laundry against the stone stairs of the Ghats; splash, splat as they repeatedly raise garments high over their heads to come down loudly on the rocks. At 10 rupees a piece, they make a good living.

To one view, the Ganges is a polluted mess. Garbage floats by, and the water is so dark that you cannot see more than an inch or two into it. But somehow the spirit of the Ganges lives on. The Hindus believe that the river is sacred, and remains pure regardless of the pollution. Many believe that this makes the washer wallahs immune to the effects of the pollution in the water.

At 5:30 a melodious female voice is raised in praise at a Hindu temple, accompanied by drums. The loud barking of packs of dogs accompanies the high pitched cymbals and drums. At sunrise the Muslim call to prayer raises loudly from the mosques, each broadcasting different songs. We look expectantly out our window to the east to watch the sun rise over the river. Our hopes are dashed as light only reveals the cold mists which obscure the view.

We don our warmest clothes to enter the narrow, stone streets of the old city. At only 4-5 feet wide (1.5 meters) they are too narrow for traffic, barely wide enough for a person to squeeze by along side a wandering cow. The absence of traffic noise and congestion is welcome.

The cold, at zero Celsius, is a record all-time low. We see people, barefoot & dressed in summer weight clothing, huddled around woks full of burning charcoal. They are breaking up furniture and any found wood to build fires. Dogs and cows sit on the pavement warmed by a few coals. Later, we read sadly of all the deaths the cold has caused.

The day flows on....soon the vendors arrive to set up their stalls on the wide path connecting the Ghats. Calls of "Postcard", "massage", "boat ride", "come see my silk shop" torment us as we seek to experience the holiness of the river.

We take up one boatman's offer of a one hour tour of the river. As he rows the boat upstream, we feel its magic. It is quiet and peaceful here, far from the city streets.

We learn of his family. Like his father before him, he rows tourists up and down the river. After his father's early death, he became the head of the family. Now aged 24, he supports nine people on his earnings. He does not have a college education, but he has been able to get younger siblings into college, a remarkable feat. He is proud that he makes an honest living without cheating people or stealing from them.

We pass the Ghats: stone steps leading down into the river from the streets above. People flock there to bathe and purify themselves. We watch silently as we pass the main burning gnat where cremations are performed 24 hours a day. The bodies, wrapped in colorful cloths and decked with flowers, are carried into the water before being placed on the pyre. The smoke of a dozen fires burns our eyes as we float by. At the end of the ceremonies, we watch as mourners cleanse themselves in the river.

We pass by many mosques and Hindu temples. Later, we approached the Mosque, one of the largest in the north, but were stopped from entering. It has been named by Hindu extremists as a target for bombing. India is still torn with religious strife, whipped up by a Gujarat politician for his own gain a couple of years ago. Extremists on both sides threaten to bomb sacred sites, and have murdered each other.

The day on the river is completed with ceremonies performed at sunset. The ceremonies are a joyous celebration of life accompanied with song, drum and cymbals. Hindu priests stand on platforms and make offerings to the gods. At completion, people sail leaf boats with lit candles down the river. The blinking lights symbolize prayers of good fortune for loved ones.

Buying Silk

Varanasi is well known for the quality of the silk that is made there. The whirring of silk looms can be heard from the many factories in the old town. Everywhere are people selling silk scarves, pillow cases, saris, bolts of fabric. Fran could not resist the temptation of buying silk.

We walk into the small showroom in stocking feet, the floor covered with white cotton cloth. White boxes are stacked on shelves lining the walls. The only visible cloth is the bolts of fabric near one end. As we sit the parade of cloth begins. The merchant opens one box, asking what we would like to see. He pulls one scarf out and lays it in front of me. He then pulls box after box of silk open, tossing the contents into the air in rainbow streamers which land at our feet. By the time we have made our selection, we are both covered in silk. How luxurious!

The Grand Trunk Road

The Grand Trunk Road passes through Varanasi on its path across the subcontinent. It follows a route of historic importance, stretching 2600 miles from Afghanistan to Calcutta. It is spoken of in grand terms by many. Rudyard Kipling described it as "such a river of life as exists nowhere else in the world".

Our first experience with the road was much less than grand, though. If the nearby Ganges is where the devout go to die, the Grand Trunk road is where trucks go to die. We traveled a bone jarringly bumpy 17 km auto rickshaw ride along the route from the old town to the train station. Along the way we bypassed potholes capable of eating the rickshaw. Other unmarked bumps we took at full speed. The side of the road is littered with abandoned trucks...rusted, windowless, tireless shells of their former glory. Other vehicles, not so far gone, are receiving repairs before they continue their journey. Whole cities of vehicles 'rest' by the side of the road, vendors calling out their wares to the drivers. The cold of the day only adds to the dismal atmosphere.

Bodhgaya

Bodhgaya

Bodhgaya, a small city in Bihar, is where the Buddha attained enlightenment. Since Buddhism died out of India around 700 AD, there has been little interest in preserving sacred Buddhist sites, so until just a couple of decades ago the ancient temple was just ignored among the filth and grime of the village. People set up shacks on the grounds, and the temple was used as a toilet.

Buddhism pilgrimage site

After the Tibetan Buddhists began their exodus in 1959, they began to visit Bodhgaya as a sacred site. Slowly they worked to clean up the temple area and seek preservation. Today it is a World Heritage site and hosts visitors from around the world. Buddhists from many countries have established monasteries and temples in this holy city. I recall Tibetan, Bhutanese, Korean, Chinese, Taiwanese, Japanese, Thai, and Burmese temples. There may have been Vietnamese and others, too. The town has been transformed from a typical Bihar hell-hole into a tourist area.

With Bodhgaya as an example, other sacred Buddhist cities are starting to take notice of the potential. Many tourist companies are now selling pilgrimage tours through several different cities, such as Buddha's birthplace, the place of his first speech, etc., and these areas are starting to get cleaned up and developed. But they have a long way to go. Unless you compare them to the rest of Bihar, they still look pretty miserable.

One group (the Foundation for the Preservation of Mahayana Traditions) has proposed to build the world's tallest statue of Buddha in Bodhgaya. For three years they worked with local officials, but could not get through the corruption. Recently the plans have shifted to the nearby state of Uttar Pradesh instead, another example where corruption has denied the locals of potential beneficial investment --the project has a budget of $300 million! The officials were more interested in pocketing a portion of that themselves, and locals suffer.

Annual Kalichakra teachings by the Dalai Lama

Bodhgaya has developed as a pilgrimage site largely through the goodwill of the Tibetans. Every January, the Dalai Lama comes to Bodhgaya to give teachings. These have grown such that this year over 100,000 people attended! The small city is completely overwhelmed with monks and Tibetan refugees, with many staying in tent cities erected on the outskirts. This is also the time for the locals to earn a little money, so rents and food prices go sky high, especially for foreigners.

We arrived a couple of weeks before the teachings were to begin, so filled the time with visiting temples, a side trip to Varanasi, and such. But we also were fortunate to stumble into a rare opportunity. We knew some of the people involved with the organization hosting the Dalai Lama, so we were able to spend 3-4 days helping to get his apartment ready. It was quite special to be able to serve such a special person. Some of the other helpers were constantly in tears due to their intense devotion.

During the teachings we could barely see the Dalai Lama with our binoculars (which rapidly became very popular with everyone sitting around us!). But we did happen to be along the side of the road one day when his procession slowly drove by less than nine feet (3 meters) away!

As the crowds come to Bodhgaya, so do the beggars. They line the street, sitting peacefully in rows three deep the length of the main area. There are many hundreds. The deformed are wheeled in carts, but mostly the streets are just lined with beggar women with their children, staring vacantly as the crowds pass by. We hear that some restaurants take turns feeding the beggars and plan to find out which restaurants so that we can donate, but we are not successful.

We eat mostly at Mohammad’s, a well know haunt of westerners. He serves excellent food at fair prices. He also has opened a new guest house, hoping to cash in on the annual teachings. He rents rooms for 10,000-15,000 Rupees per month during January, compared to the norm of perhaps 50 Rupees a night otherwise.

Westerners and Indians invariably have different cultures. One difference shows up regarding reservations. Several people have made reservations at Mohamed's, so he has held the rooms, even though they paid no deposit. He left them vacant for many days waiting for the arrivals. Some people eventually were located at other hotels. To an Indian, this is extreme dishonesty. To the westerners it was just a business transaction. However, I'm sure they would have felt differently if he had not held their rooms and they showed up wanting them!

We pitched our tent on the roof of Mohamed's guest house. It was nice up there, with a good view. Unfortunately it was also during a record cold, just a few degrees above freezing. But we were quite snug with the tent and our down sleeping bags. In fact people in the guest rooms downstairs (which are drafty and unheated) seemed colder.

Some found the place to be wonderful, but one woman found it deplorable. It was a great lesson to us that most of what you think you see around you is actually your own projection. She was forever yelling at Mohamed and his brother about one thing or another. First the power was out, then there was no hot water, then the doors were not secure, and so on. Once you get into a mindset where you believe things are bad, then they indeed are. But in exactly the same circumstances, the rest of the guests were quite happy. So the power goes out? This is India, after all. And the hot water? Mohamed brought over a gas stove for people to use to heat water. We were extremely grateful and commented that this was very kind of Mohamed. The irate woman couldn't see it that way -she saw him as delinquent in not providing it earlier and that it was his duty to provide it so there was no generosity to be acknowledged. Indeed, if you think people are kind than you find their acts to be of kindness. If you think they are mean, then the same acts seem to be of meanness. Most of the bad we see in the world has roots in our own minds...how else to explain that what we see as bad others see as good?

Mahabodhi Temple

We visited the temple many times during our stay, trying to meditate under the tree, circumambulate around the temple, or otherwise practice. Some practitioners have made major vows, such as staying at the temple for three months to complete 100,000 prostrations. At night, literally thousands of people would make light offerings --hundreds of thousands of candles and butter lamps lined the whole of the temple. A most amazing sight.

While in Bodhgaya, several high lamas led a ceremony for the deceased. Offerings and prayers were made for their spirits, and scraps of papers with their names were burned under the Bodhi tree. Fran added the name of her grandmother, who had died in December while we were at the Kopan monastery, to the list. The ceremony was quite moving for us since we were unable to attend the funeral in California.

Bihar

Bihar

The Ganga region of India (the northern plateau) is the poorest region of India, far behind either western or southern regions of India. And it continues to fall further behind. It has the highest birth rate in India, the lowest GNP growth, the highest infant mortality, the lowest literacy rate, and the lowest domestic and foreign investment rates.

The poorest state in this miserable region is Bihar.

Things change. Bihar was once a thriving, rich, educated area. In Bihar, Nolanda was once the world's largest and most learned university, with 10,000 students over 2000 years ago! This was one of the major cradles of civilization of the time, advancing the arts, mathematics and sciences which later made their way to Persia and then to Europe over a thousand years later. Many so-called discoveries made in Europe around 1300-1600 were in fact already known by the highly educated people of Bihar in the time BC.

Now it is a filthy, desolate hell-hole.

Here's a picture of the road between Bodhgaya and Gaya. The roadway itself was once paved, but large potholes now checker the surface. In many places the buses drive in the dirt next to the roadway since it is smoother than the roadway itself. On the road there are few if any private cars. No one can afford them, except corrupt officials. Instead, the road is filled with a mix of pedestrians, cows, bullock carts, bicycles, auto rickshaws, buses and trucks. In India, since everything goes at different speeds, it is considered polite to honk the horn incessantly to let others know that you may overtake them. Consequently, the roads are a frenetic, noisy scene.

The area is very dry and dusty. Everything has a red dusting, particularly near the roadway. Some areas are in cultivation, but much is just desolate. Irrigation systems are in limited use. In fact there just is not much infrastructure at all. The electricity goes out several times a day and the phones are unreliable. The municipal government collects the money from the people for the electrical bills, but recently the officials siphoned off the funds and didn't pay the utility company, so while we were there the utility company had instituted a brown-out to try to get paid. Health care is scarce, and since bandits have taken to kidnapping doctors on their way to work for ransom, the doctors are on strike. Now the bandits are starting to target teachers, so many of them refuse to go to the schools.

In much of India, especially the poorer north, sanitation is very poor. Litter is everywhere along the roadway. In some places it is scraped together into piles which are smoldering with toxic smoke from plastic bottles. Litter is frequently dumped into streams, which are very disgusting. Sewage systems are non-existent, and people relieve themselves in any convenient empty area, especially near water. As a result all surface water is very filthy. To walk past a stream without gagging is difficult --we cover our noses with cloths. The air is filthy. Climatologists talk of an annual brown cloud that forms over northern India, eventually drifting in to China and producing acid rain and deforestation. Breathing is difficult; everyone has a cough. The World Health Organization estimates that over 10% of the people in this area are carrying the tuberculosis virus. People here really do not hope to be completely healthy. They constantly fight dysentery, respiratory disease, and malnourishment.

Construction of homes here uses local bricks. Many of these are not fired, or not fired properly, so they are really just houses made of mud blocks. After the monsoon, the walls show definite erosion, and we see many that have caved in. The lack of knowledge and lack of materials both conspire to make housing very poor.

The people wash their clothes by beating them in the streams, or in open water faucets in the gutters along alleys. I read that the poorest people have just one set of clothes so never take them off to wash --they just splash them as best they can while wearing them.

This January, record cold set into all of northern India. Temperatures were near freezing at night. Homes are drafty and unheated, health is delicate, clothing sparse, and blankets threadbare. The newspapers in most of the northern cities began a death count, publishing new figures every morning of the people killed by the cold.

The government in Bihar is very corrupt. The police made a false arrest and beat a few teenagers the day before we arrived, and for once the people reacted. There were riots in Patna for several days. Fortunately the injuries were mild. The newspaper says that the police are hesitant to stop crime and kidnapping in Bihar because it is profitable. The police know who the criminals are, but they get their cut of the take so at best remain neutral. In some cases they seem to even aid the criminals.

We took a side trip to Varanasi, using the local bus and then the local train. The good news is they were both cheap. We traveled all day for about $1 each.

Catching the local bus was straightforward --as long as you have time and persistence. We asked about the bus and were directed to the south end of town. (Although the rickshaw drivers told us there isn't a bus, and the travel agents directed us to the expensive tourist buses.) We reached the south edge and inquired again, and were told to just keep going a little further east and we'd find the bus. Still nothing. We inquired again and were told to look for the gateway of the city. We looked around and found a simple arch over the road. Under it were more rickshaws. They would not give any information about the bus. We just started asking at every parked vehicle. We found one, a little smaller than a mini-van, which was going to Gaya. We weren't positive but thought maybe we had found the bus!

It wasn't even too crowded. The bus has two seats in the back, facing each other. Including us, there was one couple on each seat. But the bus didn't leave immediately. Instead, we started cruising town to find more passengers. We found one here, two there. Soon we were three to a seat. Then four to a seat, two up front with the driver, and one sitting on the floor. We headed out of town. But we found a few more people on the outskirts of town! A couple more crowded onto the floor, and others were added to the running boards, hanging on outside the bus. Eventually we had about 20 people!

The road to Gaya is so full of potholes that the bus could not go very fast. The bus had no suspension left and jarred mercilessly at every bump. We were in no particular hurry, having allowed several hours for a 30 minute journey, and as always, we did get where we wanted to go. We actually started to get off one stop too early, and the driver told us to get back on --we were downtown instead of at the train station. Gaya is not particularly safe (although it was mid-afternoon), and the driver was watching out for us.

At the train station we inquired about the train to Varanasi. To our surprise, there was a train on the platform at that moment, so we bought tickets. We were astonished at how cheap the tickets were and then quickly jumped on the train. It turned out it was not the express train that we anticipated, but instead a local, ordinary train. That means it stops at every cow crossing, and is at the bottom of the comfort scale. We stood for a while, and then eventually wedged a few inches of our fannies onto the hard wooden seats along with the rest of the crowd. People spit, dumped trash on the floor, and smoked. There were no windows --just bars, as in jail. The cold (record cold in fact) blew through. Instead of 3-4 hours on the express train, we spent eight hours on the local train.

Rod got into a great conversation with a local farmer. He was quite successful --he actually owned a tractor, a major investment. We discussed everything from politics, economics and agriculture, to families and lifestyles. I learned a lot about the daily life and trials of living in Bihar. He had no email, and I have no physical address, so we were unable to exchange addresses. I then engaged a student, although that conversation was more about the US than India. The people were straightforward in their answers about Bihar, but expressed no hope for improvement. They felt trapped in a horrendous situation.

Traveling in the local transportation is always challenging, but also generally rewarding. Sometimes this is a great way to meet people, since you are captive for many hours. India is definitely a country with both wealthy and middle classes, who we see in the upper class trains, but the local transportation also introduces us to the poorer people. This way we get a broader overall picture of the country.

Clearly the destitute state of Bihar is not the complete picture of India. There are green areas, clean areas, and wealthy people in India. But the Ganga region holds nearly 500 million people, and for most of them, this is their life.

Bus to India

Bus to India

We bought a tourist-class bus straight through to Bodhgaya in India. While we arranged the trip up to Nepal piecemeal and it worked fine (train to one spot, bus to the border, rickshaw across the border, another bus to Kathmandu), buying one ticket on a straight through bus is easier (although more expensive) and we felt lazy.

As is often the case with travel in the developing world, what we were promised and what we got were somewhat different. Despite the promised deluxe tourist bus, we were on a standard bus with Nepalese and Tibetan refugees. We were the only Westerners. Actually the trip helped us to more fully understand the plight of the refugees, and the corruption of the India government.

The bus had an unusual number of Tibetans because the Dalai Lama is giving a teaching in Bihar, and the Tibetans flock to see him. Over 100,000 people will attend the Kalichakra teachings in mid-January. Tibetans are already migrating throughout the subcontinent on their way to this event. Most of these people are very poor. Many have collected a few items to sell along the way, such as some cheap pots or shoes from China.

The Tibetan refugees are allowed to stay in Nepal, but not issued visas so they cannot cross any border legally. What this means in practice is that they must pay bribes on both the Nepali side and the India side to pass through. The merchandise they carry to sell is legally smuggling, so they pay a "tariff" to the officials. Our bus paid about 1500 rupees ($30) from the passengers at each crossing, over a $1 per person. That may not seem like much but remember that these people live on just a couple of hundred dollars a year, and will only make a few dollars on the goods they are smuggling.

We crossed the border into Bihar Pradesh in India. It is the poorest state in India, and has the most corrupt government. None of the money that enters the state benefits the people, and everything is decaying. For example, municipal officials siphon off funds and do not pay electric bills, so whole cities have their power turned off. Road improvement funds disappear, while the roads remain treacherous. Crime is exceptionally high. Doctors and teachers do not travel alone or at night, because they are regularly kidnapped by armed bandits for ransom. The local police do nothing, and presumably get part of the payoff. So far, the bandits have not touched foreigners since that could provoke the wrath of the national government (India has a unique rule that allows the national government to dissolve a state's government and take over directly if it is inept or corrupt. This has been used a few times in other areas in the past, and it seems to me that it should be used in Bihar).

After the border crossing, the bus was stopped by armed bandits. After a delay of an hour, including much shouting, pushing and shoving, the bandits extorted 5000 rupees from the passengers. The bus attendants served as the negotiators, repeatedly getting a few bumps from the bandits, and then returning to collect more cash from the passengers. Later we were told that this is just a role they play and that they in fact get paid by the bandits to stop there and just put on a show of fighting the bandits so that the passengers will feel grateful and then pay whatever the bus attendant has negotiated.

Later, armed officials in uniforms stopped the bus and inspected it. They confiscated all of the merchandise that the Tibetans were smuggling. So after buying the goods and paying bribes, they ended up with nothing. The officials presumably with sell the goods themselves.

As we travel and reflect on the causes of such destitute living, bad government continues to be the most common factor. It is not so much which form of government as the quality of the people in government. India is the world's largest democracy, with a strong free press, but the government is incredibly corrupt and the people suffer. Thailand is a monarchy making progress. Most of Africa is ruled by thugs, regardless of whether through a military coup or the ballot box. In Chinese Tibet, the authoritarian communist government continues to torture and murder, while on the eastern Seaboard the Chinese communist party has brought great prosperity and most people do not want a different form of government. While Americans believe that democracy is the best form of government, the real point is the quality of the people in power. The key is to have checks on their power so that no one person or party can amass dangerous power.

The common people are the ones that always suffer. Those with money or power do just fine. Even India has a large middle-class immune to such difficulties. It is sickening to see how the rich and powerful prey on the powerless.

India

India

After spending October in northern India, and November and December in Nepal, we began India, part two, at the very end of December.

Unfortunately this coincided with record cold in northern India, with nights of near freezing temperatures. So, finally near the end of January we started heading south for warmth! We return north to Dharamsala in late March to listen to the Dalai Lama's public teachings, and then we leave India at the beginning of April.

India part two includes Bodhgaya (where Buddha attained enlightenment), Varanasi (a major holy city on the Ganges River), Ajanta/Ellora (temples and monasteries carved into rock cliffs) in the north, visiting friends at the software city of Bangalore, the beaches in Kerala and hill station of Ooty, sunset at the southernmost tip of India, the commercial hub of Bombay (renamed Mumbai), and the majestic deserts and palaces of Rajasthan (the Land of Kings).

Many tourists consider the south to be the best part of India. It has the famous beaches, friendly people, ancient temples and forts, and its own set of foods, dress and language. Old cultures still flourish, even as Islamic and Christian invaders contributed their own cultural elements. And the weather is beautiful --at least until the scorching heat of April-June comes!

Rajasthan (literally, Land of Kings) is also a favorite tourist destination. With the rich splendor of palaces from a prosperous time, romantic cities, camel safaris, and friendly people, it is easy to like Rajasthan.

Langtang National Park Hike

Langtang National Park hike

It’s Christmas Day and Rod is ready for a hike in a forest. We pick Langtang National Park, and Eva joins us!

Langtang is one of the three major trekking locations (behind Everest Base Camp and the Annapurna Circuit). Treks penetrate deeply into the mountains of the park, but we take just a day hike from the small village of Helambu and leads to the even smaller village of Chisopani (literally, cold water).

It is Christmas day. This is a good time to reflect on our Christian beliefs having just completed a retreat to practice Buddhist methods. I see no conflict. I see Buddhist practice as a good means to become a better Christian.

We do not even get out of Helambu before hearing warnings about the Maoist guerrillas in this area. It is unsafe for boys in this area –they are routinely kidnapped and forced into the Maoist army. One young boy joins us, and talks with Eva most of the way. He is headed to visit his grandparents in the same general direction, but joined us all the way to Chisopani to make sure we arrived safely. The next day he walked with other men about an hour back to his Grandparent’s house.

In Chisopani, we are the only guests at the Guesthouse, which has been our typical experience here. Few tourists come, due to the crumbling political situation. The effect is disastrous for the locals.

We accidentally walked past the Nepal National Training Center. Since we both had some experience as trainers for Scouting the USA, we stopped in for a peek. We were greeted by enthusiastic Scouters (Wood Badge trained!). We felt the need to push on since Eva would be waiting ahead for us (and worrying). Still, the Scouts were insistent that we join them for tea and then watched a Scout Troop of boys and girls as they played competitive games. Cool!

Kopan Monastery

Kopan Monastery

Kopan Monastery exists due to an accident--an American-Russian princess seeking out a guru in the early 70's mistakenly went to the wrong guy to ask for teachings, but he and another Lama agreed anyway. Thus began one of the largest outreach programs for spreading Tibetan Buddhism to the west. Today there are hundreds of centers in the west, as well as monasteries in India, Nepal and other parts of Asia, with large populations of western as well as eastern monks and nuns.

(Read about the monastery at www.kopanmonastery.com, and the organization that has created numerous centers around the world at www.fpmt.org.)

We had heard about the Kopan monastery from a number of people while we were in McLeod Ganj in India. But the 30-day retreat for westerners was at an awkward time --it started in the middle of our planned trek, so we would need to skip the trek, since a month later the mountain pass would be closed for the winter. So we regrettably decided to skip the retreat and went trekking. But when we returned to Kathmandu after the trek we headed for Kopan to see if we could join in part way through. Since worldwide travel is down so low, there were openings (usually the retreat is booked out months in advance). Just over an hour after arriving, we were checked in and attending our first session!

We felt the need for attending Kopan because our meditation practice was of one variety (Theravada Buddhism, with Vipassana meditation focused on the breathing and body, and insight meditation) but our readings and hearts matched another (Mahayana Buddhism, which emphasizes a life of serving others). And then, there is the more esoteric Tibetan form (Vajrayana Buddhism, with elaborate visualizations and chanting) that has been most successfully migrating to the west. Kopan seemed like a good place to integrate these components together and make some sense of our future direction.

These are quite exciting times for the Buddhist world. These separate traditions within Buddhism have co-existed for millennia with essentially no mixing. If you were born in Japan, you practiced Zen, in Thailand it was Theravada, in Tibet it was Vajrayana, etc. In fact these all derive from the original teachings, since the Buddha emphasized that different people will need different paths, and outlined reputedly thousands of different paths. Over time, different geographical areas adopted just a subset of these teachings, and neglected (or even rejected) the others.

A funny story: the essence of all Buddhism is understanding the nature of reality. Each tradition has different ways to understand it. In Zen, practitioners contemplate reality by asking "what is it?" of everything, and pondering seemingly simple questions like what a tree really is. Anyway, as part of bringing the various traditions together a conference brought together masters of all traditions. Out in the garden, one Zen master lifted an orange and said "what is it?” Through a translator the Tibetan monk replied "an orange". The Zen master again asked "what is it?” expecting a more profound answer. Instead, the Tibetan monk turned to the translator and asked, "what, don't they have oranges in Japan?”

Re-integration of these traditions is now driven by three major factors. One is the shrinking world, with communication between these previously isolated geographies. The second is the migration of Tibetan lamas to other parts of the world, spreading and adapting their practices to the local cultures. The other is the role of the west, which has become the melting-pot for integration of a fresh new form of Buddhism.

While some western people feel an attraction to the eastern religions, the religions of the east really are not really directly suitable for the western culture. Some eastern concepts are just too difficult for us to understand and our language does not support the concepts. On the other hand, other concepts, such as the mind and ego, and service to others, are much more developed in the typical western mind while the eastern approach is insufficient. Lastly some aspects are well developed in both areas, but have different meanings and practice, such as devotion and faith.

Since the Chinese occupation of Tibet (1959), high Tibetan lamas have been migrating to the west and a few curious westerners have attempted to learn from them. After the early years (hippies, drugs and sex), the serious students began lifelong study (one of our teachers at Kopan is a western women who has became a Buddhist nun over thirty years ago). The fruits of that are now paying off, and a new spirituality is emerging, based in Buddhism but definitely for the western mind. It will likely be many more decades before this really takes form, but these are exciting times. In fact, the high Tibetan lamas add another interesting wrinkle --they believe in reincarnation, and have identified several recently deceased high lamas as being reincarnated not in Chinese-occupied Tibet, but in the west, even as women! When they mature, it is believed, they will have a definite western mind, but benefit from the lifetimes of training in Tibet. With the migration of knowledge through the living (or the reincarnations if you believe that), there is a major flow to the west and transformation of the teachings.

At Kopan we were able to follow upon decades of assimilation in our search for a more accessible form of Buddhism. We still did not find what we will consider our school or guru, but we are learning and growing as we seek. In fact, we expect that when we arrive back in the US (or Australia) we will find the beginnings of a Buddhism that will be most comprehensible to us.

Kopan monastery was founded around two high lamas, Lama Yeshe and Lama Zopa Rinpoche. Lama Yeshe died about twenty years ago, and a Spanish boy is his recognized reincarnation, Lama Osel (that story drew big headlines about a decade ago). Lama Zopa is a high lama, having developed to the stage that he has inexhaustible energy. He has not slept for several decades, reputedly has highly developed yogi powers, and dedicates every moment to serving others. He has an impossible schedule of travel and attendance at hundreds of affiliated centers and monasteries, and continually spawns new projects, such as restoring the demolished monasteries in Mongolia (post USSR, these are now being rebuilt). He is a modest, unassuming man of great compassion and energy, and a great inspiration.

The monastery is thriving. Started just a few decades ago, it now supports a large population of resident monks, training them for the geshe degree (analogous to a Ph.D. in theology), a nearby nunnery, and a large outreach program to the westerners including a retreat center. It will soon support a resident colony of Tibetan artisans. The facilities have grown from just a few tents thirty years ago to a large complex of five story buildings, two dining halls, a library, clinic, and two gompas (temples). The grounds are also wonderfully manicured and peaceful. With intense faith and perseverance, Lama Zopa has seemingly just willed this all into existence. (Although those around him report they surely get exhausted implementing all of his ideas!)

The program was quite different from our other retreat experiences. While the other attendees considered it intense, it seemed like a vacation after our Vipassana experience. Prostrations started at 5:00 AM, followed by prayer and meditation. But most of the day was spent in teachings, with many hours of free time. Talking was allowed, so the environment was less conducive to deep meditation. We both chose to isolate ourselves a bit from the noise, add some additional meditation time, and take advantage of the wealth of books in the library.

Tibetan Buddhism includes much stronger elements of serving others, love, compassion, devotion and faith than other forms of Buddhism, which can be quite ascetic and focused just on one's own salvation. That makes it much closer to western traditions. On the other hand, it co-evolved with the tantric yoga practices of India and the ancient Bon mysticism of Nepal, and incorporated many seemingly bizarre deities and rituals. I suppose they are no more bizarre than a Mass at Vatican City, but they are certainly less familiar to us (they both chant in strange dead languages, wave incense around, purify holy water, have ornate holy objects such as bells, wear robes, ...). By studying the practices, we eventually were less put off by them and began to understand their function. For example, prostrations are intended to purify the mind of pride and other negativities. And, strangely, it seems that spending 30 minutes thinking about your misdeeds while repeatedly prostrating does leave you feeling somehow with less of a burden. I guess it is like reciting Hail Mary for penance, which I didn't really believe in much either, but maybe it does have a role. Likewise there are practices to help increase generosity, generate compassion, increase devotion and faith, and so on.