Sunsets and satsangs

Rishikesh is tucked into a quiet crevice of my heart. Living in an ashram on the banks of the Ganges did more good for me than I initially realised, it offered a quiet refuge from the busy vikram-packed streets that is typical of India. I was told of a beggar who also lived on her banks, who could barely feed himself, but always somehow found food to feed a troop of stray dogs living with him. His shack is nexto a tree-shaded chai stall by Ramjhula (best ginger lemon tea ever), and there I gave him bags of dog food and money that he put to his forehead in appreciation. Hearing of individuals like that gives me hope in the goodess of human beings. Other moments of beauty and stillness cropped up here and there and I documented where I could. Holy Ganga worship, sunset contemplations, handpainted adverts, bathing pilgrims, lessons from a Swami, morning mantras and offerings, ashram living, incense alleys, bindi blessings, pans of spices, ayurvedic massages, Shiva's grace, yoga postures, strong currents for one's sins, Himalayan bliss.

Mcleod Ganj

More of India, since it fills my head everyday. Mcleod Ganj, His Holiness the Dalai Lama's place of residence. Prayer flags on every tree, mouth-watering momos (ie dumplings), delicate butter sculptures (to highlight our impermanence), lessons in selflessness, smiling monks (both adult and mini ones), Himalayan views, friendly dogs, eternal flames of hope, singing meditation bowls, monk-run hotels, exiled souls, quiet forests, inspiring volunteers. So much to learn from this tiny town with so many displaced Tibetans.

I learnt that their Panchen Lama (the second most important Lama in the after HH) was abducted by the Chinese when he was 6 years old, he hasn't been seen since 14 May 1995. Oh, and the Chinese installed their own approved Lama in his place. How China's 'liberation' over 60 years ago has led to the exploitation of Tibet's natural resources (an estimated 14 billion tons of oil, 1500 billion cubic m of natural gas, and one of the world's largest deposits of uranium and chromite), massive deforestation of the 'roof of the world', the killing of over 1 million Tibetans, the destruction of over 6000 monasteries, religious freedom is not allowed and portraits of the Dalai Lama are banned, their native language is being phased out of schools, women are forcibly sterilised, the entire country is militarized with 1 soldier per 20 Tibetans, as opposed to 1 per 2000 Chinese, movement of Tibetans is strictly controlled thus dissolving their nomadic way of life as they are forced to stay in concentration-type housing, how so many brave the harsh month-long trek across the Himalayas to India, while they leave their home that is used as a toxic dumping ground. Something to consider when we read about the latest monk who has self-immolated himself out of pure desperation, or when we blindly purchase 'Made in China' items, which could be made by politically detained monks (some adhesives are toxic to humans, so Tibetans are used for this). This one learns from coming here, LHA is a wonderful volunteer initiative where one can help, even if its coming in for an hour and speaking with the monks to improve their english. And hear all their stories firsthand. So much good is being done and so many good people congregate here, like that tattooed teddy bear who runs an eco-educational art initiative for children, but so much more needs to be done. Even if it involves a small action of checking the label to see where it was made, and reconsider. Besides, local is always more lekker.

What I learnt from the camino

As I go through all my travel photographs, some images crop up to remind me about journeys and their lessons..

The fire within

"We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls."
Anais Nin

I am back in South Africa, after my travelling adventures in Europe and India. Home with an empty chest, and a head filled with Indian daydreams. Her effect on me has been permanent, this place of growth, death, love, light and warmth. So much warmth from the lotus land. Puja nights by the Ganges, Buddhist lessons in patience, dusty landscapes, my heart's intent to return, vibrant night markets, new mantras to abide to, butter lamps, the silent enlightened, contented smiles from strangers, incense blessings, unfolding petals, palace passages, the blaze of sunset and saris to remember forever. All this to set a soul on fire.

Thank you India

I left Himachal Pradesh with a heavy heart. I've had to say goodbye so many times on this journey of mine, this time was particularly hard, having met such pure hearts, mine ached to leave them. But my pre-booked train ticket had other plans for me (tickets are hard to come by, so booking in advance is the only way to get them- the slow journey across the Indian countryside was worth it though). So my next adventures to Agra, Sikkim, Darjeeling and Kolkata revealed humorous Indian 'airconditioners', giant gold statues, wish lakes, the best pistachio and banana lassi, sandstone forts, rice fields, decorated horses, devastating poverty like I have never seen before, the palace of love,  humble living, toll barrier-breaking rickshaw drivers, train fast-food, gompas, bangles in every colour, Moghul design pretties, tea time and the intricate process of how each cup is made, reminders of life and love, mandalas, cupboard-carrying men, Sikh beards, the biggest spring rolls to date, clay take-away chai cups. I can't get enough of this amazing, devastating, beautiful, sad, inspiring, motivating, trying, incredible, emotional, earthly, heavenly country. Here, the clouds are in my head.

Shiva and Buddha

Two holy cities, Rishikesh and McLeod Ganj, one a Hindu spiritual centre, the other Little Tibet. The two are a 15 hour bumpy bus-ride apart, and could not be more different from each-other. River ceremonies by night, kite runners, thalis, noisy vikrams, colourful gods, chai tea breaks, dog food-filled backpacks, pretty school girls, the holy Ganges and the laundry on her banks, side-of-the-road Sanskrit lessons, festivals every second day, yoga-stretched pains, the power of sages and Shiva. Then came the Dalai Lama's residence. With it, delicate momo's, mantra beads and prayer wheels, lemon ginger tea, constant reminders for a free Tibet, the lotus flower, Himalayan walks with friendly fed dogs, the start of environmental awareness, new friends who I'm sure I've met sometime somewhere before, His Holiness's smiling face, sidewalk-sold bokchoy, meditation classes, mountain cafes and waterfalls, inspiring volunteers and heartbreaking stories of displacement. Every day that passes in India makes me want to stay, laugh, explore, pause, climb, savour, give, and be mindful. Two places with so much faith and loss and struggles for freedom, but not deprived.

Firecrackers and fruit salad

Moving my travels from one continent to the next, Europe to Asia, has been a leap I'm struggling to describe at this early, virgin stage. "Intense" lingers for the meantime when trying to pinpoint India. Intensity of the incense, the spices, the sewers, the litter, the thin stray animals, the stares, the tumour-causing car horns, the insistent beggars, the holy cow pats, the quick-buck crooks, the dirt, the poverty. Then you slowly notice more. Then come the curious smiles, the temples, the handshakes, the saris, the autographs (yes, a group of school children asked for my autograph), the festivals, the flower garlands, the blessings, the third eye on foreheads, the vegetarian cuisine, the hand-painted trucks, the fruit vendors, the ohm, the wish-wrapped trees, the tooth-rotting sweets, the warm colours, the tradition, the loveliness. The immediacy of life and death each day. The observation that all is one and the fire of each blessing sent along the Ganges river is a lesson to notice how rich, pure and bright the light of India is. Especially during Diwali. So I'm looking and learning as I go, humility through observation.