May 3, 2008
Sitting on the roof. Why is it that birds are active in the morning and at sunset? The forest sounds full of thousands of birds, all doing their own thing. Tons of squawking just like the zoo, but much more intense.
Thought about Dave a lot today. When I imagine him he is smiling, I hope he is smiling in NM and misses me.
The sun is setting. The sky is smokey from ashram fires. Clouds are pink, no rain today.
Still can't believe I'm here. Feel a little more at ease and comfortable.
May 6, 2008
Now I'm at Meena and Ashutosh's holiday house in Uttarkashi. Here we are deep in the Himalayas and the chaos of the Northern people is far less than that of Haridwar.
We face the Ganges River and are maybe 50 ft. from its edge. It is flowing really fast down the canyon and when it rains (every afternoon) it gets deeper. You can hear the shhh it makes from inside the house. It makes it hard to hear people talking with the constant white noise in your ears but it helps you sleep better.
The mountains are on a scale I haven't seen before. Massive. They are covered by local trees and higher up by pine threes that look like Q-tips because even the highest most remote tree has been stripped of the first lowest 30ft of branches by the locals for wood. Weed grows wild here, esp along the banks where it is as common as grass. It is waist high and is almost too thick to walk through. I even saw it growing in the cracks of the sidewalks in town. The locals pay no attention to it as here it is a "weed" only, like dandelions or tumbleweeds at home and have no use.
The property manager plants many flowers in the beds and Jill has multiple gardens in full force thanks to the Monsoon rains. Beans, squash, pumpkin, tomato, cucumber, etc.
The houses were built cheaply but look like quaint European bungalows. Jill has made the one she takes care of very homey with her own stove, dishes, etc and she is very lucky in how she collects these donations. Her prized possession is her pressure cooker.
Since we've been here we've eaten so well. Neighbors send us food and we feast for lunch and then have to turn down dinner invitations bc we are still full. Yesterday I met Mrs. Chakvoberti whose family is visiting from Delhi. They were so sweet and their daughters sang and played guitar for us. Some classical Indian songs which are haunting and beautiful and then some American pop songs from the 90s that I don't even hear at home anymore. Zombie by the Cranberries, John Mellancamp, etc. She had an amazing voice...
I miss Dave and wish he were here to see what I see bc I know he would be thinking all the same things. Here I am with Jill and we talk all day, but I'm alone in the sense that I don't belong, only have my thoughts and have no idea what is going on. I do feel much more comfortable here, only having to talk to random friends I meet. Hard to make conversation, true test of my abilities, esp when you barely understand each other. Much better than the ashram though. Jill says ashrams are full of drama and fake people and maybe that is the tension I felt there. ...
To get up here we walked a ways with my huge back pack on my back, caught a bus to Uttarkashi that took 12 hours! We barely got seats and the guy in charge was haggling Jill to make us sit in the back but she holds strong. At one point we were in different seats, me w/ 2 men, and the bus kept stopping for people on the road until we were completely full of village people who were practically in my lap. So many types of people, it's amazing. The bus goes from flat dry Haridwar, up to Kashi. The mountains just get bigger and bigger and the road lacks bridges and tunnels and so it curves and winds in and out of every crevice. The bus is old and squeaky and jam packed and speeds down this narrow steep road. It's one lane but must be shared with other oncoming busses, trucks and car that are inches away from each other and dangerously close to the edge of a huge cliff. They all use their horns incessantly and barrel around blind corners. I had a massive headache and was nauseous. The girls in the row behind me threw up out the window the whole time. The mountains are covered up and down with rice patty steps and the houses are built either with smooth black slate traditional styles, or the more gawdy cinderblock and rebar. I just tried to keep my mind on the view and prayed again and again that our destination was after the next turn. As luck would have it, less than ten miles to our town we got stuck behind 50+ cars waiting in line to buy petrol before the gas station ran out and we were stationary for two hours.
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