Giving Thanks in India

Have I mentioned there are goats everywhere?

Yoga this morning, windows open to the sounds of thunder, crows, and a barking dog or two. The yoga center smelled of lemongrass, and when we walked in, I saw a little white cat sneak in from the street.

During class, my body leaned into the positions, happy to be practicing. I watched my monkey mind making lists, planning, scheming--while my sky mind relaxed and remained steady above all the chatter.

During final relaxation, my body started to buzz. Suddenly, with ease, I slipped outside myself and observed me from above. There I was, lying on the mat. There I was, hovering near the ceiling. I wasn't separated into two parts but had expanded into a vast version of me. Perhaps the experience I had during surgery--where I became aware of my body and spirit conversing--has strengthened my out-of-body-experience mojo. Or maybe it's just the magic of India.

On our walk home, we stopped at a cart where a vendor sells delicious pekoras. He wrapped the deep-fried potato, onion and herb balls in newspaper. Fifty rupees (about 80 cents) bought us a heap. We ate them on the warm and drizzly walk along the beach. We passed a bunch of guys playing cricket, cows hanging out, and motorcycles dodging dogs and kids and goats.

As is Karen and Widi's Sunday ritual, we gave the remaining pekoras to the guard at the front gate, who accepted them with a smile.

Pondicherry

It was sweet to be back "home" in Chennai after a few days of travel. Over Thanksgiving, we went with Karen and Widi to Pondicherry, a couple hours south, for an amazing time at Dune Eco Resort and Spa.

This place is right on the Indian Ocean's Bay of Bengal. Our room was $111 a night (love those lucky ones!). It was a remarkable buy. Each "room" is really a cottage with a unique design. Ours was open air, with a palapa roof and outside wall for privacy. Surrounded by palm trees and lush vegetation, it was like luxurious camping in the middle of the rain forest. At night we were serenaded by crashing waves and insects and tropical birds.

Our room

Included in the price was a fantastic breakfast buffet. At the griddle they'll make you a dosa or omelette. They use eggs from the chickens that live on the premises. There are also cows; milk products (fabulous yogurt and milky drinks) are freshly made. Cow milking is one of the available afternoon activities!

There's an open-air yoga center, where we did yoga and an hour-long meditation. There's also an infinity pool with comfy lounge area, including day-beds tucked away under the trees close to the beach., which stretches for what looks like miles in both directions. The warm water was a joy to swim in.

With Karen in the Bay of Bengal

Hammock alternative

One of the best parts of the adventure was meeting Scott, his wife Tawan, and their as-adorable-as-they-come daughter Oceana, who's almost two. Before Dave and I came to India, Scott and I connected on Facebook. He's Karen and Widi's colleague, and through them he knew about my brain tumor. He, too, had a brain tumor and had to undergo not one craniotomy (like I did) but two.

When we finally met in person, I felt a special connection to him. He's a warm, gentle soul--and he's lived a fascinating life, having traveled and lived all over Asia. We all spent Thanksgiving together with dinner at the Dune open-air restaurant. I felt a poignancy wash over me as I reflected on the fragile, yet also resilient, beauty that is this life.

Scott, Oceana and Tawan

Outside of the resort, we explored other parts of Pondicherry. It's a picturesque, French-influenced beach town. Nearby is a unique community called Auroville, which is essentially a commune. The focus is on the arts and free-spirited education--as well as non-religious "concentration" (aka, meditation). They've built a striking three-story dome named Matrimandir--designed by a French architect--for group meditation. You can't just show up and walk in, however. We had to get passes in advance to be assigned an appointed day and time.

Not Logan's Run

First, our group of about fifty, was shown a film about the creation of Auroville and its visionary, a woman called The Mother. Then we were taken by various vehicles to the Matrimandir grounds. More waiting and orientation ensued. Finally we were led to the building. After removing our shoes and donning white socks, we walked up spiral ramps inside the impressively vast and quiet dome. Watching the people in front of me in flowing clothes move through this sci-fi-ish building brought to mind the dystopic film Logan's Run. With an eerie shudder, I briefly wondered if we'd been suckered into some kind of ritual group sacrifice.

But no, I lived to meditate on the dome's top floor before a shimmering crystal. I experienced a sense of floating. And I heard an inner voice remind me that this moment is perfect. Peace is where it's at. There's no need to try to wrangle things into being (are you listening monkey mind?).

So on the heels of these last few adventurous days, we are packing today for the next leg of our journey: Sri Lanka. Everyone we've met in India lights up when we mention Sri Lanka. They all love it--and so we are prepared to as well.

Loving India

Ready for the school holiday party.

I'm falling in love with India. Some might think it's a crush. We've been here not even two weeks, after all. Am I seeing India through rose-colored glasses? Don't I see the social problems, the garbage, the crazy traffic? 

Of course I see these things. But this is unconditional love. I'm not in this relationship to judge it but to soak it in.

There's a vibrancy pulsing through Chennai in the shops, temples, streets, and homes. Everywhere there are adorable children in school groups or with their extended families. I'm fascinated by the juxtaposition of ancient and modern, as well as the co-existence of so many different religions and ethnicities. I love that yoga is important here, and I feel transformed after each yoga session. I ascribe that not only to the stretching and movement, but to the super oxygenation from the breathing exercises.

School children. Cuties!

I'm aware of how saying "I love India" after having experienced only Chennai is like saying "I love the U.S." after visiting only California. India is a huge country. But I'm glad we aren't hopping around at break-neck speed to snap photos of every iconic site. Instead, we are rooted at the home of our friends, Karen and Widi. We have the privilege of experiencing their daily life and exploring places with the help of their driver, John.

John has lived in Chennai his whole life and has worked as a driver for more than thirty years. I asked him how Chennai has changed since he was a child. He told me back then, no one but the super rich had cars. Everyone else got around by walking, mule, rickshaw or bicycle. Now there's a larger middle class, and many more people have cars, motorcycles and mopeds. The human-powered rickshaw is a relic of the past; now auto-rickshaws buzz around like honey bees at a hive. Also, it seems everyone has a cell phone, even many of the poor.

Kapaleeshwar Temple

One of the most memorable places John took Dave and me was to Kapaleeshwar Temple in Mylapore. (Almost everyone calls it Mylapore Temple, probably because that's pronounceable!) Built in the 8th century, it's covered in stunning sculptures.

There's an area of the temple where only Hindus are allowed. John and his cousin went inside and got two gorgeous, fragrant garlands blessed and then placed them over our heads.

With John at Kapaleeshwar Temple

We had to take off our shoes not only to walk inside but on the outside part of the grounds. You can't be persnickety about getting your feet dirty here. I noticed that in the city, there's a lot of barefoot walking (and, frighteningly, motorcycle riding)! The weather is generally quite warm, so that makes sense--as do the free-flowing clothes that shield the body from the sun yet keep it cool.

Another incredible outing was to Mahabalipuram, which is about an hour outside of the city. I enjoyed seeing the rural areas and a number of seaside resorts as we passed. Mahabalipuram has to be seen to be believed. It's a 7th century mix of magnificent historic rock temples and alfresco bas reliefs butting up against beautiful beaches. (Who knew we'd see surfers in India?)

Lunch that afternoon was an incredible whole fresh fish cooked for us in garlic butter, served with rice and veggies. 

We chose the one on the right.

Food here is very inexpensive. Twice now we've been to a crazy-delicious restaurant, Sangeeta, that John characterized as "medium-priced" at $2 a person. That's compared to the  20 cents you can spend for a very filling portion of street food. We haven't braved street food, but Karen and Widi--who have lived here for five years--eat it, and they've never gotten sick.


That could be because they are citizens of the world. They met 27 years ago when they were both working at a refugee camp in Sumatra. Prior to that, Karen had been in the Peace Corps in Benin. Widi, who's Javanese, was recruited to work with the refugees while he was still in college. After they married in a traditional Indonesian ceremony, they moved to Thailand to work in another refugee camp. The decline of Karen's father brought them to Massachusetts, where they stayed for 18 years. They both worked as teachers there: Karen in the public schools and Widi through Lutheran social services. 

Widi and Karen's wedding picture

Widi told me the move to the U.S. was an adjustment for him. He was bowled over by the abundance of goods in stores. His first time in the city of Albany, they went into a huge mall and he'd thought the mall contained the whole city! Also, Widi said that Indonesians maintain harmony by agreeing. It took some time for him to learn how to "agree to disagree" in both his work and personal life.

Soon, their son John (yes, there are two Johns in this household) was born. John is now a senior in the international high school here in Chennai where Widi and Karen teach. Like his father almost 20 years before, John underwent an adjustment period upon moving. In fact, he's now writing an essay for his college application about his personal transformation. He evolved from hating India to being grateful for the opportunity to live here. He feels he's grown in ways he couldn't have if the family had stayed in small-town Massachusetts.

At Mahabalipuram

I find it fascinating how life brings people together. We met Karen and Widi on an Alaska cruise three years ago. And now here we are with them on the other side of the world. I thought about that the other night when we took a walk with Jaga, their sweet dog. It was hot and humid out, and the gold full moon shone over the Bay of Bengal. People were out and about, walking, eating at stalls, riding bikes and motorbikes, or sitting on the ledge of the promenade. Cows, down for the night, slept in groups of three or four along the road. Many of the street dogs slept too, but others barked at Jaga as we passed.

On the beach with children, Jaga and other dogs.

Widi took us on a detour down a dirt road through a village filled with small shacks. Most had their doors open to dirt floors. People hung around out front and nodded at us as we passed. Suddenly a group of girls--probably ages 4-8--came running up to me, squealing with delight. They grabbed my hands and reached up to touch my hair. 

"What is your name?" asked the oldest one. 

"Kate," I said, and they chanted "Kate! Kate!"

I asked each of them their names, and they stared into my eyes. Their accents made it hard for me to hear but I did my best to repeat each name. They laughed and caressed my arms. As we pulled away, I waved and we all said, "Goodbye, goodbye." Then I felt the tears come. I was so moved by these lovely little spirits who live a life so different from mine but who connected deeply with my heart.

Lights of the Gods

Giants save the day.

Ever since we decided to come to India, I was thrilled that we'd be spending time with our friends Karen and Widi, who have lived in Chennai for five years. I was also excited to know I'd get to do yoga in the place where it all began.  Our second morning here in Chennai, I came downstairs ready to go in my favorite yoga pants and purple tie-dye yoga top.

"Do you have a regular tee-shirt that covers your shoulders and reveals no cleavage?" asked Karen.

What? Well, that certainly tweaked my concept of a yoga class.

I went back upstairs and donned my Giants World Series tee-shirt. It has a bit of a vee-neck. Being a large-breasted gal, I wasn't sure if it was suitable, but it's the only tee-shirt I brought.

Karen gave me the stamp of approval. I wondered how comfortable I'd be because I do yoga only in sleeveless shirts. Then it struck me how being a little more covered up might suggest a shift in the focus of the class from external to internal.

Karen and Widi go to Swami Sivananda yoga. In fact, Widi will participate in the teacher training in the Himalayas next year. He's more than ready to teach, if you ask me. Not only has he been a language teacher for years, he can rock yoga poses that make me sore to watch. During class when he did the peacock with grace and (apparent) ease, I felt I was in the company of a master.

The class incorporated chanting, breathing, sun salutations and various challenging poses with welcome rests in between. I was familiar with most of the poses although there were some variations new to me.

At the end was an extended savasana (corpse pose) with relaxation guided by the teacher. (I've read we are practicing to be corpses when we are in that pose. If so, death will be luxurious.)

Family decorating the sidewalk for Kartik.

After class we were given a snack: half a banana, a kind of sweet sticky rice, and tea because it was a special day: Kartik Poornima. This festival coincides with the full moon. Kartik means "star" and the day is also knows as the festival of lights of the gods.

Not only did we get an edible treat, but we put dots on our foreheads of three different color pastes (yellow, red and black). The black is ashes from burnt offerings.

Streets of Chennai.

The peacefulness of the yoga center was greatly contrasted with a walk we took that afternoon through the neighborhood. It's truly mind-boggling for this Westerner to be walking along crumbling sidewalks through throngs of people, stray dogs, and the occasional cow interspersed with cars and motorcycles and bicycles weaving through, horns blaring. In what appears to be chaos, everything actually flows in an improvisational pattern. Widi told us that cars honk not in aggression but to inform others of their location.

Cuties.  (That's Widi in the back with the family dog.)

We made our way over to the beach where smiling kids ran up to us shouting, "Photo! Photo!" After we'd take their picture they'd say, "Zoom! Zoom!" I realized they wanted to look at the picture and have me zoom in so they could see their faces. It was a beautiful thing to laugh with these children. Some of them were playing with balls, kicking them around. We also saw three boys playing with pieces of a styrofoam cooler, clearly garbage from the beach.

There is a lot of trash everywhere, no question. What a striking contrast the garbage is to the activity in the stores and streets, the colorful saris everywhere, and the energy and beauty of the people.

Near the beach I saw a little girl--not more than three--perched on the front of a motorcycle driven by her father. I wondered how she balanced so well. She was adorable; I couldn't help but stare. Her father looked directly at me, and I sheepishly smiled at him. He grinned back so fully it felt like he was beaming joy right into me. Perhaps he was happy I appreciated his little girl so much.

That smile--with teeth brilliantly white--stayed with me. Widi told me that many Indians use a twig for brushing their teeth (which some do incessantly). That, indeed, makes them very white.

He mentioned this as the four of us sat on the roof that evening, sipping wine. Fireworks lit up the sky in celebration of the Hindu festival. From a distance the haunting Islamic call to prayer echoed, and I recalled how that morning I'd been awakened by the bells of a nearby Christian church.

As the sun set, the golden full moon rose--just as it does on this day everywhere in the world.

Sexiest Koala Alive

Proof you can Google anything and find it.

I just discovered that my blog entry with the most all-time hits is "How to be a Chick Magnet."  I'm imagining how many Googlers are disappointed when they hit my site and find no pictures of hot chicks, and no advice on how to pick up women.

As we're traveling and I'm blogging, perhaps I need to create spicy titles for my pieces to increase my blog traffic.

In Australia:  "Sexiest Koala Alive."

In Hong Kong:  "Land of Lingerie."

In Chennai, India:  "HOT!!!!  (And I don't mean just the food and weather!)"

I just Googled "Hot in Chennai", and the results display an interesting mix of weather, food and other hot things with links that look like one click would blow up your computer with viruses.

Perhaps the labels I just attached to this post will boost it to the #1 spot in short order.

At any rate, since people have been asking:  Yes, for sure, I will be writing as Dave and I trot the globe.  You can follow me by putting your email in the little box at the right-top of this blog.

Or follow me on Google or Facebook or Twitter.  Or go to my website and click on "blog."

Obviously, I'm all over the internet.  So even if you don't want to follow our travels deliberately, you'll probably trip over one of my stories somewhere.  And if that happens, I hope you enjoy it and aren't too disappointed that the story doesn't live up to the racy title.