the flow of the waters and wanderings in Varanasi

One of the most incredible cities in the world is Varanasi. An ancient city of densely arranged tall buildings that butt right up to the banks of the holy Ganges River.

Series of stairs (known as ghats) descend toward the spiritual waters.

The currents are greeted on the opposite bank with sand and nature. The ends of the spectrum of either natural area or the chaotic and packed human creations straddle the waters that bring cleansing and rebirth in-between to millions who dip and enjoy the flow and fluids of this Shiva city also known as Kashi. All kinds of uses of the water take place along the ghats including bathing, swimming, row boating, blessings of births & marriages and cremation of those who have passed.

There are two ghats devoted specifically as burning ghats where one can witness the open pyres of wood encasing bodies, burning nonstop for 24 hours each day, every day. It is a joyful event for family and friends who celebrate the passing of a loved one here because the spreading of the ashes into the Ganges, the Hindus believe, brings closure to the soul’s cycles of reincarnation.

The final passing of each spirit…

My favorite way to experience this city is to wander the length of the Ganges along the ghats; from one burning ghat all the way down to the other. Each ghat in between has its own history, appearance and activity. At one moment I can watch the billowing smoke of cremation and just several yards away be offered a boat ride. Further along families bathe and the next an area of young men frolicking and splashing with games and laughter.

I unintentionally timed my visit to Varanasi perfectly because Hindu babas from around the country had made the journey one month prior to a nearby Khumba Mela festival. Before the babas return home they stay in Varanasi to celebrate both Shiva Ratri and Holi.

Babas are holy men in the Hindu religion and the best comparison I can make for them is with Rastafarian men. Babas have given up their material possessions and societal obligations to devote themselves to attain a higher spiritual life in Hinduism. Most sport long dreadlocked hair, walk shoeless and wear simple orange draped cloth. They smoke as much marijuana or hashish as needed to attain an open state of connection with a spiritual self. Because of their esteemed position among religious Hindus, their use of what is normally considered illegal drugs is acknowledged as completely allowed and an acceptable part of their spiritual process.

Can you imagine a nun lighting up a fattie?

Roll one up, Sister Mary Catherine!

With the influx of babas in this holy city, what is usually bare areas along the ghats became temporary tented cities housing hundreds of orange clothed dreadlocked Hindu holy men. There are many different types of babas and one that surprisingly didn’t freak me out is a naga baba. “Naga” means naked, and when called over by a group of Naga babas I only hesitated for a moment before deciding to join them in their circle. Yep, me and 8 naked holy men passing a chillum. Hello!

Woah!

It didn’t take long for me to shake the weird feeling of them being naked and realize that these were the nicest, most chilled out people I’ve ever met.

From there I continued to walk along the ghats with my new activity of “baba-hopping”. Inundated with friendly invitations to sit with these men, I eventually chose to decline some of the festive offers…or else I’d never get anywhere. You see, being holy doesn’t mean these dudes have eased their natural appreciation of the beauty of women. Every woman who walked by them was enthusiastically invited to join their circle. And when I sat with any group I couldn’t help but giggle, as they would totally check out and make commentary on each goddess that walked past…

“Oh, beautiful Parvati”

“Oh, she is so lovely”

and so on…

With the arrival of the Holi festival my baba-hopping screeched to a halt for a couple of days. Holi is the annual religious festival that is celebrated with the onslaught of color: thrown, dumped or smeared on any clean person in sight. I’ve played Holi twice before (see here for pics) and this year I decided to remain a spectator (which can be challenging if you don’t stay in complete hiding). So I made sure to stay in a guesthouse that has a restaurant and a view so I wouldn’t have to step outside for over 24 hours.

Coinciding with the arrival of Holi was the arrival of Ron, my pal from Pushkar who I last saw one week before. The city, now washed in hues of pink was now a place I wandered as two instead of one.

.

.

You may have noticed that I am afflicted with the travel bug. Ever since 2001 when I first left the USA, I caught a taste of foreign journeys and I can’t shake this passion for wandering.

I love meeting people from the around the world,

being in places that are far from familiar

and immersing myself in various foreign cultures.

But these things merely comprise my playground of WHY I love to travel overseas.

When I am immersed in foreign stimulation my senses are fresh and raw. What was once an undetectable automatic response to the familiar surrounds and ways of home, in the new I learn more about myself. I realize in each moment and with each decision I make what I like and how I like it. Trying new food, interacting with people completely different from my cliques at home, participating in activities unlike the usual outings I do over and over at home. Placing myself in this new dynamic wakes me, shakes me up and what emerges is a better self-understanding.

And this is why I encourage folks to get out there and check it out…

To discover a new perspective of who YOU are.

One huge dynamic in this is whether a traveler chooses to go it alone or with friends. Sometimes folks head out alone and then end up meeting like-minded new friends to travel with.

I choose to travel alone for many reasons but mostly because my reactions and decision are only from me providing what I consider the purest way to understand myself. Traveling with others for me in these past journeys has been hit or miss. I’ve met some wonderful people but I’ve also been in situations where I let the group be a priority over my best interests…my “path”.

I realize in ALL relationships, not just travel partners, it is essential that each person have a balance of maintaining their path and autonomy while making compromise and offering support to the relationship.

Relationships, I have come to realize in the past few years, are my greatest achievement I have YET to be able to successfully maintain.

With my Varanasi wanderings shifting to a shared experience with Ron, the Kashi mirror reflected to me how selfish I am of having full control of making decisions and having my way.

Now, for example, instead of just walking over and sitting down with a baba who just waved me over, I found I felt obligated to turn to Ron and ask “do you want to go sit with the babas?…is that cool?”

And my flow, my independent and sometimes lonely wander, is now compromised.

And me?

Now I get cranky.

I know that understanding one’s weaknesses is the biggest and most important step towards self-improvement. But it is so hard to take when I’m in full realization of how I’m playing my bitch card…and ultimately making Ron feel bad as a result.

…in addition to how this behavior squelches opportunities.

Together Ron and I left Varanasi for a two-day long, LONG bus journey to Nepal. With so much togetherness jammed in this time I was able to see clearly that we have some striking incompatibilities. Nothing that prevents friendship but enough where I knew it wasn’t working between us on this journey.

So, yes, I read into it when one of our bus’ tires went flat.

Our relationship deflated.

However, we are still friends.

Now in Katmandu

I’m alone again

photos are here...

videos are here
and here

festivity and fun in Pushkar

The third week of February was deemed to be one of the most auspicious times in 2007 for weddings and I arrived to Pushkar right in time. A tiny town hosting a holy lake and home to many in the Brahmin caste, Pushkar is an ideal and romantic setting for getting married. Apparently many Indians agree because each night, all in this tiny town, there were upwards of 150 weddings performed. All the ceremonies took place at one time on the camel fairgrounds but every individual marriage devoted the earlier part of the day with the fanfare of a marching band and parade (both one for the bride AND one for the groom) moving slowly through Pushkar’s narrow streets.

At night I was “rocked” to sleep by the several ceremonies that were in earshot of…well, everywhere in town. Did I ever mention the lack of noise control regulations in India?

Actually I did enjoy sitting on my guesthouse’s rooftop chill out cushions looking up at the stars while listening to the current hit songs of India. I was glad to have arrived on the tail end of this auspiciously festive wedding period with things settling down considerably after 3 days.

The catchy festive atmosphere naturally reacquainted me with Ali, the colorful hat man. I met Ali four years ago when I bought several hats from him. In the years since his hats have become much more colorful and expressive. They range from a summery hat made with vibrant silks accented with sequins…to a warm wooly top hat for your funky cooler evenings or if you want to be noticed out on the slopes skiing or snowboarding.

It’s my second time to stay in my favorite guesthouse in Pushkar and until Ali pointed it out, I have never made the connection that the cute family sewing on their front porch across the street is the same hat making workshop! Ali’s father is the chief sewer and while working in the sunshine and fresh air he is kept company on his front porch by his grandchildren and their pet goats. I couldn’t help but laugh when one goat came running out their front door straight toward me and threatening a butt on my butt.

I didn’t realize that goats can be loyal territorial family protectors!

It’s my 4^th time in Pushkar and this place, when looking beyond the tourist offerings and signs (in English, Hebrew and Korean), is a really wonderful source of a magical feeling that brings nice friendships. Having almost reached my halfway point of my journey I needed the addition of friendships to share my experiences with. Pushkar has proven time and again to be a reliable source for the nice travelers who choose to dwell there. Not only do I continue to run into folks I know from previous visits, but I even ran into a woman I know of from Portland…very cool to finally chat with her in a place like Pushkar rather than at a party in Portland.

About halfway through my stay Ron (pronounced “rhone” with a phlegm-y “r”) from Israel happened to try a chai on my guesthouse rooftop to watch the sunset.

His sense of humor is exactly what I needed…silly jokes and laughing all the time. Hanging out and letting hours slip away as we roamed around town joking about all the crazy India-isms. Like, for example, the children who unrelentlessly beg for school pens. I am sure for someone who hasn’t been to India, hearing of us making light of children begging is no laughing matter. But it happens so often that the medicine of laughter eases the situation a bit.

So this first chapter of Pushkar comes to a close…I’ll be returning in one month.

And in the meantime, who knows???

photos

video

dwanjabi

In the midst of it all: some venting

So you know that old tale of the genie that tricked the man by a twisted interpretation of a wish?
Well I have a similar genie in my midst that has played with a little prayer I’d made.
“Dear God,
Please let numerous men throw themselves at me all day every day.
Amen”

MY genie's “trick” is that I’ve spent most of my days in India with my wish having come true…but the men in my reality are local Indian villager men.
And as much as they all would like to think that I’m in India so I can hop from place to place getting a real “in depth” taste of the spices of India…this being based on Hollywood, free internet pornos and their inaccurate but earnest fantasies. But the reality?
No
Nehigh!
Absolutely not…

India aside, traveling alone is a big challenge for a person like me. I’ve been, uh, “blessed” with a very confident demeanor while having the insides of insecurity and shyness.
To usher in some self-growth I continue to leave my unfamiliar surrounds through traveling. This pushes my comfort limits by having to repeatedly extend myself to initiate friendships…and (at a minimum) conversation.

In Indian culture it is rare to see women alone and independent. Since I’m usually in this situation over here the more lustful and less shy men see me as a target…or as some Indians have explained to me: I’m a free game.

I decided to take an overnight bus from Madhya Pradesh to Rajasthan. Each time our bus made a potty stop I (and my wee bladder) made a beeline for the “open toilet”.
What’s an open toilet?
Going to the toilet in the great wide open.
My strategy was to follow silhouettes of flowing sarees heading toward a dark alley and as far from the men’s eyes as possible.

Several hours late and one flat tire later I arrived to Udaipur, the romantic and over-touristy city home to palaces, lakes and the pride of having been the location featured in the 70’s James Bond flick, “Octopussy”.

Most of the Udaipurian shopkeepers have brushed up on their charming and slick lines. Their approach appeals to a shy person like me and my need to have a conversation every once in a while. But it’s not just that, these guys are really nice and interesting to talk to. The problem is that there is usually a turning point during our chat when they amp up their charm and become very pushy. They eventually insist repeatedly that we share a beer, or I come to their house or that we spend the day together on some adventure.
I’m certainly not too shy at this point to say NO.
…and then to say no repeatedly as many times necessary until I ultimately have to just walk away. It gets frustrating because every time I pass their shop or see them around this continues. I’d like to think that the conversations I’ve had would remain a pleasant platonic acquaintance when ultimately I end up wanting to steer clear of these guys altogether. This effort to avoid the pressure tactics becomes exhausting when all I’d like to do is chat with the locals and enjoy a nice hot cup of chai.

When I moved north to Bundi I assumed that in a less touristy place this situation would be lessened. That was definitely not the case. And this is truly a shame for my first impression of this new place. Upon arrival I had already reached my limit of being patient with constantly having to have my guard up from getting this kind of energy from men.

Bundi is an amazing and beautiful small village that is surrounded by a tiny range of hills that host palaces and forts. The hilltop within the huge fort is empty of most anyone but monkeys and has so much room to explore. Like the more famous and well-known Jodhpur, the village homes are painted uniformly in a Brahmin blue, creating the effect of a beautiful sea when looking down from the ancient fort.

As much as I can see the potential of Bundi being a wonderful destination where a week or more can easily slide by, I let my reaching the limit of male advances mar my experience. I don’t mean to pick on either Udaipur or Bundi since neither is any worse than other spots in India. It’s just unfortunate timing and me reaching a point where I need a break.

So now I’m off to a haven I am more than familiar with where I am certain that I will be mostly free of this attention.
And I will be more careful in the future about what I wish for.


photos of Udaipur

photos of Bundi

videos

dwanjabi

Authentic Adventures in Madhya Pradesh

As much as Goa’s beaches & lively atmosphere helped me get my chill-out going on, after over a month I couldn’t have felt more ready to venture into REAL India.
You know…Indian people, saris, blaring Bollywood music, the non-stop staring and delicious and cheap authentic Indian food.
Feeling some haste to make my exodus, I was able to consider taking a flight thanks to several new private domestic airlines that have introduced incredibly reasonable rates.
It couldn’t have been more perfect to arrive in Mumbai on India Republic Day. Orange and green and waving flags were found throughout the city and I accepted this as my welcome in arriving to this new phase of my journey.

When chatting with a Mumbai physician during an office visit (for an unmentionable and minor affliction) the doctor was perplexed when I told her of my onward travel plans.
“WHY are you going to Madhya Pradesh??”
With her one question I was filled with slight nervousness and confirmation that I had chosen a destination not widely heard of in the common tourist trappings. It’s true, you don’t often hear of Madhya Pradesh in the standard tourist lineup of Goa, Hampi, Rajasthan, Agra and Kerala. Those are all wonderful places for sure but this herd-like movement of tourism is exactly what I am trying to avoid.

Navigating my way through the blend of chaotic energy and gorgeous architecture of Victoria Terminus Railway Station, I boarded my first of several trains to ride within days.
My first stop in Madhya Pradesh was in Sanchi, home to some of the oldest and most magnificent Buddhist stupas in India.

With the city of Bhopal as my home base, I was unable to move onward before catching a curious peek of the location of the notorious Union Carbide plant, a US owned company. One of the deadliest toxic leaks in history happened here in 1984 with a death toll of over 20,000 people. The affect to the local people continues even today as affirmed by an Italian friend who volunteers as a teacher in nearby villages. She told me the low weight and slow growth rate is evidence in many of her students.
Quickly moving onward from this gray, dirty and very depressing city I boarded the first of two rickety local busses towards the holy city of Omkareshwar.

A remote destination that is an island village straddled by the holy Narmada and lesser-known Kaveri rivers. My intention in visiting Omkareshwar was to tap into some of that Holy Hindu ju-ju that brings forth thousands of pilgrims each year to the river’s ghats.

But what ended up happening for me was a dhaba hopping pig out!

You see, up until this point since my arrival to India I have had a serious loss of appetite…to the point that I had become concerned. But when I arrived to this village the problem had vanished.

Now, I’m not sure if this is due to the antibiotics prescribed to me by the Madhya Pradesh-skeptical-doctor having run their course. Maybe the pill popping for the past 5 days killed some bug that had kept me from wanting to eat.

Or perhaps it’s because western food prepared in India is simply not even close to as good as at home. Pizza, veg burgers and pasta just don’t have the same appeal here.

I had finally entered an authentic region offering a wide selection of freshly made Indian dishes. My attention diverted from the colorful puja displays in the Narmada to the steaming hot thalis and chais from various dhabas around the market square. Thalis, mutter paneer, navratan korma, poha and samosas, just to name a few.
yummmmmy

Feeling full like on Thanksgiving Day, it was time for me to swap the Omkareshwar table for a nearby village hosting ancient Afghan architecture.

The trip from Omkareshwar to Mandu is only ~84 kilometers but in a state like Madhya Pradesh this distance requires a series of 3 slow moving local busses. Throw in a lunch stop (and some bad judgment by 2 traveling mates and myself) and it became 4 bus rides and a total travel time of 8 hours for our tiny journey.

Mandu is an even smaller and more rural village and due to no other options at the time we arrived, I settled in at the Ram temple dharamsala (rest house for Hindu pilgrims). I was able to soak up the authenticity of the village experience by staying there…and even had an opportunity to join in a village-wide thali feast to celebrate the wedding that would take place that coming night in the Ram temple.

My fondness for this authentic rest house shifted quickly at nightfall when I realized how noisy staying in a Hindu temple can be. I’m not that light of a sleeper but the M-80’s exploding in celebration of a new marriage through the night followed by trumpeting blasts of busses beginning at 6am sent me and my backpack running toward the traveler guesthouse across the village.
Hotel Maharaja butts up to the rural areas of Mandu and features a lovely brown calf that will eat our books if we don’t keep an eye on him.

Like in Omkareshwar, in Mandu my focus shifted mid-stay. Initially I was transfixed while exploring in solitude the expanse of huge palaces and mosques. But later the sweet disposition of the villagers lured me to delve further into the rural areas beyond the gorgeous ruins of a bygone era.
Mohan, my guesthouse’s owner…and incidentally the former mayor of Mandu, took 4 French and myself on a lengthy tour through the fields, cliffs and huts of rural Mandu. Prompted not by a fee but by his passionate knowledge and love of his town, Mohan introduced us to the farmers, local wine distillers and even the wild panther lairs of the areas of Mandu completely untouched by tourism.

It’s magical experiences like these that you won’t find in any guidebooks.
And one of the many reminders of why I love to visit India.
I’ll let the photos speak for the beauty I have found.

Mumbai

Sanchi, Bhopal & Indian transportation

Omkareshwar

Mandu

...and VIDEOS !

Seaside snowball of creativity

In what feels like a blink of the eye, I have spent two and a half weeks in Arambol.
Yet in this blip in my journey I dove deep and found exactly what I needed.
...

Many many people are drawn to the beaches, sunshine, relaxation and people of this touristy beach town of Arambol in Goa, India. Even more than that brief list that attracts is the feel of a special and calming energy.

If you’re like 50% of the visitors to Arambol it is likely you will walk away from a 1-2 week experience with a generic "relaxing, funky and fun beach town" description. But if you are able to go deeper here, you will gain much more understanding as to why.

Arambol is a crossroads and gathering space for artists, musicians and various creative outlets. Sure, during my past visits I noticed the regular availability of live music. But it wasn’t until this visit, when I made it a goal to go deeper and discover the source of this amazing energy.

I hit the jackpot when I decided to get a room in the Piya Guesthouse vicinity, an area that upon first glance seems an unlikely place to be a popular gathering spot for long term visitors. All I knew when I arrived was that the Arkan Restaurant at Piya’s was a festive place to meet other travelers who also prefer to avoid the places found in every printed travel guide.

But little by little, as I passed my time relaxing in Arkan’s garden I discovered that each one of us sitting around a table has our own special passions and talents.

and we are all choosing to live them.


The first few days at Arkan I admired the evolution of a coconut shell found on the beach as it turned into an intricately carved bowl adorned with tiny shells and gemstones at the hands of a new found friend. Then another moment I perused the collection of travel photos from another...as I sat swaying in a hammock moving to the beats of yet another creative soul mixing live beats from his laptop.

Slowly slowly

until i really opened my eyes and realized
wait a minute!

everything around me is one of two things:
1) beauty in the nature and 2) beauty in the creation.

I was completely surrounded and affected by this surge of creativity and expression.
The range of talent is varied but one thing is consistent: each person has chosen to pursue a passion by eliminating the fear of defeat or egotistical expectation of the outcome.
A gathering of pure expression for the sake of the joy of creation and experimentalism.

And it’s a really catchy situation!

To see one woman’s new tattoo creation
or to stroll along the beach past intricately magnificent sand castles
or a dull canvas of an ordinary chai mat brought to life by paints, imagination and the willingness to just try...
and unlike the occasional abdominal sickness one tends to get while in India, this is one bug that’s worth catching!

While in Arambol I wanted to track down at least two designers/artists of whom I plan to sell their work. The first were the two Israeli seamstresses who brought me to their house in an even more off-the-beaten-path neighborhood than my own. It was at this point that I realized Arambol has an international community of residents! These are people who are not just visiting Goa for a month or two out of the year, but have completely changed their lives for the purpose of creating the art that resonates with them: their calling.

Yael and Nath, for example, were once in the high tech web design industry in Israel. Now they reside in Arambol creating their own "global" fashions comprising simplicity and sexiness.

It’s a very nice combination, indeed.

Another duo I ultimately had to track down before departing from Goa are the creators of these GORGEOUS lamps! These lightweight, atmospheric lamps have the flexibility to take any shape or size depending on how they are assembled. The glowing orbs can be found bringing ambiance and light to the more chic hangouts along the beaches of Arambol.

It has been such a treat meeting all the folks who are putting together the amazing items I've come across so far in India. When sitting down to discuss acquiring the lamps, for example, Simona and I found after two hours of talking we only used 15 to discuss business. The other 1 3/4 hours were spent sharing stories from our lives and swapping philosophical recommendations, such as Simona’s suggestion of books by author Louise Hay.

Aside from the art community in Arambol, I was able to begin to delve into interpersonal friendships that always develop along my journeys. I’ll swap those Anjuna dance floors any day for the conversations and laughter found around the tables of Arkan.
Finding myself surrounded by Barcelonians, Irish, English, Brazilians, Germans, Swiss, Italians, French...and me, the only American.

I had been feeling awkward when I arrived to Arambol since I had just spent two weeks in India already without having developed a network of friends yet.
The lovely people who gather at Arkan not only welcomed me, but they encouraged me...
with each of my attempts to open up more I was rewarded with deeper friendships.

And it is these friendships that made it incredibly difficult for me to peel away today from the vortex of Arambol after 2 1/2 weeks.
sigh.

For the first time while traveling I made very little effort to collect email addresses from newly found friends.
I know I'll see most of them again

...next year
...next month
...next week

our paths may cross
and will occur when ready

many beautiful photos here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/meredith415/sets/72157594478230092/

A Message from the Runic gemstones

The energy that had been building the week leading up to New Year’s Eve hit its peak in a huge way on the 31st.
I wandered out on to the beach to get some sun and chill out before the big night ahead. Moments after setting foot in the sand I saw an Indian man getting beaten by a mob of angry locals with large heavy sticks. I couldn’t believe it. It was completely brutal, so much so that I almost wanted to laugh out of confusion of how to react. There was even a tiny woman in a colorful sari who was actually striking some of the hardest blows. Ultimately the man ran with blood streaming from his head as about 100 onlookers watched.

Things were getting crazy in Anjuna, Goa.

It’s this way every year. Filled to the gills with every kind of tourist (well-to-do Indians on their New Year holiday, vacationers, families, backpackers, old skool hippies and last but not least, the ravers)... Anjuna has more intensity and energy than it knows what to do with.

The craziness begins early, as with this year and the article put out by the Jerusalem Post on December 14:

http://pqasb.pqarchiver.com/jpost/access/1182715891.html?dids=1182715891:1182715891&FMT=ABS&FMTS=ABS:FT&date=Dec+14%2C+2006&author=SIMEON+COHEN+and+JACOB+SLOSBERG&pub=Jerusalem+Post&edition=&startpage=01&desc=Israelis+warned+of+al-Qaida+threat+in+Goa

Rumors like this have circulated before the big day for years so I didn’t let this get me too worried. However, Anjuna is a scene which is normally dominated by Israelis and their absence is noticeable.

The most noticeable type of traveler here are the ravers, many of which travel to India, specifically Goa, and never venture onwards, outside of this bubble called Goa…which is in no way a representation of REAL India.

Sure it is fun and relaxing and I always begin my trips here, but the primary influence in Goa is the melting pot of all the countries represented. The visitors here outnumber the locals… which I believe gives people, who may otherwise feel intimidated by being a noticeable outsider, more comfort in being in such a foreign land. For me, I find starting my trip here to be a nice easing in for the stimulation of this amazing country that is still yet to come.

So…New Years Eve…
Wow.
Every person here was buzzing with an addictive anticipated excitement of the crazy celebration that lay ahead. THE NYE party takes place at Hilltop in Vagator. It is my favorite venue which hosts an outdoor clearing in a cluster of Palm trees. The best Psy-trance DJs from around the world play electronic music nonstop starting at sunset on the 31st and finishing at midnight the next day…
30 hours later.
Psy-trance in Goa is the kind of music that I have a difficult time sitting still and not dancing. What I find strange is that I’m not into this music genre at all when I’m back in the USA.
…and after my several hours of contemplating why, as I danced at Hilltop, I realized that it is this melting pot of people coming together from all over the world dancing that is just so damned cool.

Speaking of cool…
After the intensity of the New Year settled down a bit, I faced the music again, but this time with Shambu, the man I rented my scooter from. I didn’t want to have my bike wreck on my conscience by not coming clean with him, and the rattling of broken parts while I drove was a constant reminder anyway.

So 500 rupees and a half day later, voila! I was back on the streets, zipping around Anjuna with the ferocity of a geriatric person in a motorized wheelchair. Yeah, I was still gun-shy.

But after a few days passed I couldn’t get the bike started and Shambu wouldn’t help me, so I’m accepting this as a nice opportunity to get some exercise by walking, not to mention getting acquainted with every motor bike taxi man in town.

This cramps my image here a little bit as there is very much a SCENE in the Anjuna tri-plex:
Everybody speeding around on their scooters
Lots of dreadlocks
Lots of tattoos
Lots of tribal piercings
And the best of all…
Some verrrry fun fashions!

There are various themes in the styles and the ones I like best are the utilitarian look that has multiple pockets, zippers and functions. For example, a skirt that unzips and becomes a hip belt with pockets.
The other style I love here is the elfin/faery look. It goes well with the travelers who appear as if they’ve been wandering for years away from home.

I’ve had an incredible time making connections with several designers coming from all over the world. To bring back clothes from Goa, which are actually produced by a European designer, is right in line with the international scene here.

There are two markets, one during the day and one at night. They both have a different feel and sophistications but both are worth a trip even if you don’t plan to shop but prefer to people watch and see live entertainment.

When I visited the night market for the first time in 2001, I met an Englishman who creates the most fun, beautiful and mystical pendant and gem items. His work is what first inspired me to dream of importing items from India. I’m really excited to reconnect with him and be able to share his creations!
My favorite of his are the set of Runic gems. Each gem has a Rune symbol on it.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rune

With the aid of a Runic Alphabet chart I was able to create and read a message for myself in the Runes. Without looking, I pulled three gems out of a pile and placed them face down in a row.

The one on the right represents my "situation". My gem was a turquoise which is the gem for "travel".

The middle gem represents a suggested action in this situation and mine was quartz crystal. This gem embodies "the self".

The leftmost gem is the outcome of this action in the situation and mine was a rose quartz,
which represents love.

This was an interesting message for me beacuase I had felt, thus far, that I had been too much following the outward intensity and not honoring myself in what I want to do. I often got caught up in the anxious "where’s the party?" frenzy that exists here.

My interpretation of the Runic message is that in my tavels I need to maintain MY path while being open to partnerships…with an end result of Love.

Well…hey…I better get crackin on this one because I’ve been feeling very shy and unable to connect with folks. But…what’s new??

Feeling disconnected is not a new scenario for me but in realizing what action I need to take I can make more of an effort even if unfamiliar, awkward or scary for me.

So, thank you Runic gems.
I now maintain my path’s direction
and am open to partnerships and friendships as they are available.

LOVE !

I'm making a move to Arambol today...in search of a more "chill" scene and connecting with more designers who live here.

Photo link http://www.flickr.com/photos/meredith415/sets/72157594464825928/

Video link http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=dwanjabi

touching down and hitting the ground

If you want to avoid a celebration of Christmas…of any kind, then I recommend taking a flight around the world beginning on Christmas Eve. My intention was not to escape Christmas altogether but when my in-flight dinner of spaghetti came in the foil topped rectangular 3x5 dish, I wasn’t exactly humming the tune of "O Tannenbaum".

Christmas aside, my flights went without a hitch. One and a half days after I departed Portland I arrived to Anjuna Beach, Goa, India; probably the touristiest place in the entire country.
If you’ve ever been to New Orleans for Mardi Gras or Germany for Oktoberfest, you can imagine the housing predicament I was facing upon arrival: no advance reservations and Goa is FULL. After a few hours of soaking in the beautiful sunshine and wading through the ocean waves I headed out on foot and began my search for a place to call home.

My jetlag (there is a 12 ½ hour time difference) and having only 2 ½ hours of sleep in two days made me really look forward to opening my bags, settling in and getting some undisturbed sleep. When inquiring around about room availability, every person I spoke to said I would never find a room for less than 1500 rupees (~$38/night). However I would not settle and continued with my standard backpacker accommodation criteria:
1) clean and working bathroom
2) host family lives on the property
3) other backpackers are also staying there
4) overhead fan in room
5) relaxing outside sitting area

Despite the naysayers, I set my mind to finding this visualized space. After a couple of hours of wandering and meeting interesting people along the way, I DID find this room and it was just as I had visualized. Not only that, incredibly it was offered to me at the rate I normally pay even in low season locales.

At Omkar Guest House, my new digs, there is a peaceful landscaped courtyard (of which the lawn is mowed by a man squatting and using scissor blades to cut the grass manually) surrounded by lots of shade providing trees, from which the host family inexplicably hangs old shoes and garden hoses. I have to guess that the shoe-hose look is intentional because every other grooming aspect of the grounds is impeccably manicured.
My next door neighbor is Ben from Manchester, England. It’s been nice to have a pal at home base when decompressing from the stimulation beyond the gates of Omkar Guest House.

I mentioned earlier that this is the peak season in Goa…well it is FULL ON. Every restaurant, beach shack and party is filled with people from around the world. It is, at the very least, some of the best people watching I’ve ever seen. I like to try and guess what country people come from based on their clothes, skin and body language…even before I hear them speak (which is usually the give-away clue.)

So far since I’ve been here I’ve spent every day on the beach and every night at 9 Bar, which is an open air Goa Psy-trance club on the cliff overlooking the waves and the sun setting into the Indian Ocean. I have also visited one of many markets so I could begin to get a feel for what kinds of goods are available this season.

I am really pleased with all the fun stuff and beautiful clothing!
As with fashions everywhere the clothing and accessories available evolve and reflect the change in how we want to extend ourselves through our clothing. Since the majority of the clothing available in Goa is representative of the rave and party culture, I can best make an analogy through the fashions of the Burning Man festival. When I first attended Burning Man in 2001 I noticed lots of black light neon colors. The timing of that first trip to the playa is now correlating with what I am noticing in Goa fashion trends. On my first trip to Goa, also in 2001, I was overwhelmed with clothes with a style priority of utilizing a black light affect at parties.
Thankfully, I am seeing a resurgence of much more availability of earth tones fashioned in a tribal yet modern style. These clothes, often characterized with utilitarian zippers and pockets, suit the style I like in that they are practical and stylish without creating a spectacle.

In the Anjuna/Vagator/Chapora “triplex area” (as I like to call it), to reach markets where clothes like this are available transportation is necessary. Everything is spread out throughout the surrounds. On only my second day here I decided to hire my own motorbike instead of having to rely on taxis or walking alone in the dark at night. Dismissing the need to recuperate from jetlag and lack of sleep I proceeded with plans I’ve had for two months to see live concert by the MIDIval Pundits and DJ Cheb i Sabbah. Despite feeling completely “knackered” (as the Brits say) I felt obligated to get out to see this show.

In the dark I warily drove my bike up sandy pathways to pick up a friend on the way. Feeling really disoriented and a bit sketched out, I took a turn that I realized too late was actually a private driveway and I was halted by a dead-end with a house at the end. From the front porch I noticed silhouettes of 5 different dogs standing up in bristled attention. I immediately froze and my fear of dogs surfaced…and of course the dogs sensed it so they barked and ran straight at me. I freaked! …I accelerated while trying to make a 180 in a narrow dark alley
And wiped out…
A group of nearby Russians came over to the sounds of the crash and with minimal English helped me to my feet and back on the bike.
I smashed the face plate and a turn signal light and I have scratches up my arms. Despite the blood, bruises and cuts all I could think about is how the man who I rented the bike from will react…and also wondering:
How can I keep myself from feeling tormenting by the dogs of India?

I’ve never expounded on my fear of the dogs in ALL of SE Asia and now I’d like to drop some doggie doo on your lawn: THE DOGS HERE SUCK. They are mutts who, by day, have the shit beat out of them by the locals and by night, roam freely in packs ready to attack. The Indian dogs, above every other “challenge” that comes in traveling, are my greatest nemesis. They lie quietly with their sandy dirt stained, scarred fur that blends in with the grass. I never notice them there until I am already close up to them
…which fills me with fear
…that they immediately sense
…they bark and approach
And I just want to run away as far as possible.
It’s a vicious cycle.
I often feel, when wandering around, that I’m walking in a minefield and keep an eye out for the dogs wherever I go.
By the way, I left out one of my criteria in looking for a guesthouse:
6) no mean dogs nearby

New Years Eve is right around the corner and the energy in Goa is building hour by hour.
Look forward in the next dwanjabi blog for a more descriptive profile of the Goa party culture that influences the funky fashions.
…and also how I make it through the most full-power parties of the year in Goa, India.

to see the photos from this missive, visit http://www.flickr.com/photos/meredith415/sets/72157594449506296/

Looking back and bringing forward as my present

So here it is, six days until I will be in one of several queues at Portland International Airport.
I’ll be checking in with the airlines as I check in with myself and my flurry of emotions as I prepare for over 4 months of travel in the country I consider my second home: India.

This is my fourth time to embark on an extended journey overseas, and while in many ways I am totally comfortable with most of the logistics and miscellany of putting together a trip I am far from resilient of the anxiety and intensified emotions that come before each voyage. Part of this is because I sometimes let the norms of our society question me living a life where I diffuse my energy between two continents, cultures and friendships.

Another aspect of my emotions is because this trip, unlike the other 3, is my embarkation into creating a business with my travels. I have decided to take my love of creating my own fashions with items available in India into an import business: Dwanjabi. But this import endeavor will take you deeper than just providing merchandise…you will feel connected.

I notice imports, a dime a dozen, in markets and various shops. As beautiful and intriguing as all these items are, there is a limit to the bond you can have to them without knowing more about the cultures and people behind the creation of such items. This connection with fresh and unfamiliar styles is so much of the magic that allures travelers to foreign lands. The items I will have available each have a story. A tale to connect you to whatever it is that allured you…whether the initiation of your interest is the item itself or the story behind it.

A huge part of my process in travel is connecting with the people I meet, whether the locals or backpackers from around the world. Writing and photography are an amazing source for me to process the incredible characters and cultures I come across. My interpretations will expand the experience while profiling the items I will have for sale.

There are so many amazing, beautiful and colorful items that I find while on my journeys…of which I rarely, if ever, see here on my home shores. I don’t want to keep them all to myself so now I will be bringing them back to share.

In the meantime, I will be adding to this blog and photography on an (irregular) weekly basis. You are invited to join me cybernetically.



Looking back and bringing forward
contemplation of the
experiences and memories
That have created who I am
now
What I love to do
The knowledge of the “how”
Knowing how to do the things that bring me joy
And having it come naturally

I know that I am finally honoring my true path
And this has become clear as everything falls into place
The gray areas have cleared and I have faith that more of the unknowns will unfold in ways that are meant to be
There are struggles that I see not as barriers but aspects of my evolving into who I am
There are blessings in every hardship with the lessons that I learn

So, here it is…
NOW
So was yesterday
And so will be tomorrow

I have decided to grasp my life in its direction to create a full circle of my loves, nurturing my passions, talents and whatever latently propels me in directions I cannot foresee.
I prevent the potential regrets of not living in the way that stokes the fires that have just begun to ignite inside me.
I have peeled away many tightly wound layers that have been inflicted upon me…
And finally ready to fly

I have not been unaffected by fear of the heights I will go
The unknown is one of the scarier places to be
because ultimately fear is an anticipation of something we cannot grasp or rationalize. I understand this.
Yet
I will still fly
And have already begun to take off
And I look fear in the face so I can feel the wind in my wings

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