New Delhi, India April 1 to April 16

at the entrance to the guest quarters

As I begin this entry, it is Saturday, April 24, 2010. I am sitting in my room at a farmer’s guest house up in the western mountains in the state of Himachal Pradesh. In the west I believe we would call this a Bed and Breakfast. It is located about 12 kilometers (about 7.5 miles) from the town of Chamba in the Panj-la Valley in a village called Chadiara. The Lonely Planet India (“LP”) book states “there are some delightful walks in the area.” Ha! The Lonely Planet does not mention that the walks are up sixty degree mountain sides and back down them. A grave omission in my opinion as I am not that kind of walker in the least! To say I was misled is a gross understatement. But here I am. I am trying to live a life “open to all and attached to nothing.” If I had decided not to walk up to the house I would have been attached to what I am comfortable with doing.

With great gratitude to having a cell phone here in India I made contact with the owner, Prakash Dharmi, of this house, aka Orchard Hut, while I was in Chamba contemplating what I was going to do next to find an accommodation more suitable to my liking than the awful Hotel Aroma Palace I had decided to stay at my first night in Chamba. What drew me to Orchard Hut was “this friendly village guest house is a peaceful place to commune with nature.” and the misleading walks description that I read in my LP book of India. I have been in crowded towns and Delhi since my arrival and I longed to be out in rural areas. Coming to Chamba by bus had teased me with so much open land, fields of agriculture, little homes here and there and just mountains and mountains and unoccupied land. Arriving at the bus station in Chamba and going to the hotel that sounded so nice in LP had let me down horribly. Damn those expectations we keep allowing ourselves to get caught up in! Of course LP had a lot to do with it. It’s description of Hotel Aroma “this modern place has a range of tidy rooms” lead me to choose the hotel and feel confident I would have a pleasant room. Ah, my expectations! How they heightened my bliss as to what I would have in my hotel room once I arrived in Chamba. A nice spacious hotel room with a TV and a view! When I saw the single room they showed me my stomach felt like it might’ve taken a lurch. The single room was indeed for one person. It was probably as wide as two people shoulder to shoulder and it’s length was a few feet longer than the single bed provided. The view wasn’t actually awful. It included the roofs of the buildings just below, the chowgan (an actually nice park area) and the mountains off in the distance. The carpet itself caused me to wonder what might be crawling within it. The toilet seat had a paper band around the lid that said “sanitized for your protection.” I have no idea what their standards are but there looked like dry pee on the seat as well as the bowl. I do know from my experience with using LP, I will never take what they have to say about anything as something I can count on for either their standards are different from mine or they just say pleasantries so that there’s selections a traveler can at least choose from.

Having already settled in at Hotel Aroma and deciding that I would stay a day just in case there might be more to the town of Chamba than I first perceived I decided to not leave until the next day. I told Mr. Dharmi that I would be arriving at the bus station in Chamba the following day and would be most eager to stay at his guest house for a few days. I was hesitant to let him know that I had chosen another hotel in Chamba before his. He told me that someone would be at the bus station to meet me to assist me to his home.

The next day with a backpack on my back and one on my chest I left the Hotel Aroma for I’m sure the last time and walked down the little steep hill to the main road of Chamba, past the pile of cow manure on the road, the pile of trash and the legal court doing it’s business with the people sitting at tables outside the court building, vendors selling food, produce, whatever they can to make some money and walked the very short distance to the bus station. I positioned myself near the station entrance and found a nice place to rest the bottom of my heavy backpack upon my back without having to take it off and wait for staff from Orchard Hut to assist me with the next leg of my journey. I was greeted by Mr. Dharmi’s daughter, Phalguni, son-in-law, Naveen, and granddaughter, Rupashi. Mr. Dharmi had told me I had to walk a half hour. In our conversations, however, I had failed to grasp or understand where this walk was to occur or the difficulty of it. His daughter informed me . . it was up a mountainside, but it wasn’t too difficult, she said. (She, who was born here and has been walking it probably every day of her life can and would say that and probably actually walks it in 20 minutes or less, but I, who am never around hills or mountains to walk except for the few at home that I rarely do walk, was almost speechless and felt like I might need to cancel my stay at Orchard Hut. I am also of the mind that to choose to walk up a mountain is an asinine thing to do thinking why would any human want to put oneself through such endurance. Sadly, this is my mentality at the moment about this type of activity.). She also told me that there would be staff to meet me where my transportation dropped me off and they would carry my bags up the mountainside for me. Okay, I know that when I walk up this mountainside I will be huffing and puffing and going as slow as a turtle if not a slough, but I know that I can make it up. After all, I was told by two people it was only a half hour’s walk. (My Golu Temple experience also forewarned me to be aware that their concept of a half hour walk would, for me, probably be an hour). Attached to nothing, get out of my comfort zone, here I go! The next choice after deciding I would do this walk was to take a bus or a taxi to the road stop I was to get off and begin my walk to Orchard Hut . . . bus – Rs15 vs. taxi Rs 300. I didn’t see a reason a taxi would be better for me so I took the bus.

More than half way to my road stop and I hear a big “whoooosssshhhh.” I think that sounds like a flat tire. The bus I’m in has gotten a flat! Oh no, I think. Now how long will I be stranded here until another bus comes along to gather us all up and continue us on our way. It wasn’t like that at all. The Indian people are resourceful. All manner of things can go unexpectedly and they just go with the flow, find a solution or an alternative and on they continue. The driver, his assistant and some of the passengers saw what the problem was, one passenger even went up to find a rock slab to use under the tire, a spare tire from on top of the bus was brought down (might I add that its threads were pretty well-worn down but it was used anyhow) and within perhaps 20 minutes we were on our way again.

While the bus was laid up the men got off the bus but the ladies remained inside the bus, except myself. I walked around, took pictures and even stood under the shade of a tree where most of the men were standing. I have no idea if I violated any of the customs but no one said or gave me any looks to indicate such so I just did what I felt was comfortable for me.

Once on the road, the bus driver started driving that bus with great speed, more than likely to catch up with lost time. At my stop, the driver and his assistant, both having been told at the station where I was to be dropped off, completely forgot about me and had it not been for the hotel staff waiting for me at my stop, I would have probably been on that bus until it got to its last destination.

One hotel staff person, got onto the bus and grabbed my bags off. After getting off the bus one of the staff gave me a note. It read “Ms. Nora, Welcome to Orchard Hut. Please follow the bearer of this chit (chit means note which I confirmed with Mr. Dharmi. I believe it is an English word from old England times). He will carry your bags. Prakash Dharmi, 20-04-10” That note made me feel welcome and gave me great encouragement.

When I was waiting for the bus to be back on the road again, I had called Mr. Dharmi to let him know of my delay and the reason. He informed me that he had spoken to his daughter about my reservations about walking to his house and that he had two of his staff to carry my bags for me and I was to go as slow as I needed. His staff would coordinate their walk with mine and lead me to the house. The two staff waiting for me each put one of my bags on their back and off we went. My first step on this walk was down a steep walkway! Not at all inviting and it created an anxiety in me. Oh well, as with all things here in India, I’m at the next venture and I have nowhere to go but forward with the decision I have made for to go back would be giving up on what I can do if I let myself out of my comfort zones.

As I said at the beginning I am sitting in my room at Orchard Hut. It was not a difficult climb for any fit individual but for me it seemed like too much just to get to my next accommodation. I stopped several times. I was out of breath. I took the hand of the staff leading me twice to hoist myself up the steep step my foot would next be stepping upon. The staff even stopped when I gave them no indication to do so. They were very patient, gentle and attentive.

The walk was truly a beautiful one and one I would have enjoyed completely had it not been for my inadequate level of fitness to do it. Nothing but nature every where I looked. River and streams running here and there. Trees, plants, birds and maybe a house here and there but a bit dot on the landscape, very forested. I even saw women at the river washing their clothes. I must admit that this area is very beautiful but because of my trepidation of my ability to walk these mountain sides I am anxious about being here.

Today as I begin writing once again to continue my story of my stay here in India I will have been at Orchard Hut almost a full four days (96 hours) and I have not yet even ventured away from the house for all around me there is nothing but either up sixty degrees or down sixty degrees. If I stay, My Dear Reader, I will make it a point to begin walking these mountainsides and learn more of what this body of mine can do.

I begin with where I left off at my last entry . . . April 1. In my country that is April Fools and all matter of tricks can be played upon a person but I was never into it back home and nothing occurred with me this day along these lines.

Since I last was within these pages it has been two days. After finishing what I wrote on Saturday, my urge to write left me. One of the guests here had left me a book. I think it is a traveler’s custom of passing on a book once you’re finished with it. The guest’s name is Fiona and she is from Australia. She had bought it secondhand. In our conversation we had talked about the book, its dabble into the history of her country. She discovered that I had no reading materials with me and decided that she would pass this book on to me. I, myself, have never gotten into reading a book while I’ve been on a traveling vacation. I’ve been of the mind that while I’m traveling there is so much to see and do in these new places that I’m traveling in that I have no time to read anything save an occasional newspaper article or magazine. With Fiona I had now met up with four people who found it a good pastime to read while on vacation. Along with that information I also thought about the fact that I was out in the middle of nowhere as far as my heavily populated city standards perceived the area with not much to do and for how long I had no idea so felt having a book to read might be a good use of my time. At home I am busy with all my projects that I do not have time to pick up a book to read for just enjoyment. All the books that I have at home are sources of information for my projects and there are no fictional books at all in my home.

This book or my leaded fingers to write what has been going on with me for almost a month and the fact that yesterday my stomach felt sick most of the day has kept me away from this writing for two days. The book is 375 pages long and yes, I did finish it and I started it on Saturday.

What the book is about is not pertinent to this writing but there is something that I read within it that I thought could very well apply to me.

“Kierkegaard wrote of the ethical person as editor of his life: to tell one’s life is to assume responsibility for that life… In stories, the teller not only recovers her voice; she becomes a witness to the conditions that rob others of their voices.”

The Wounded Storyteller: Body, Illness and Ethics, Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1998

My Dear Reader, I had written a note to you on my 50swoman blog telling you that I write because I must. I share because I must. Writing has always been a part of my life. I have journaled since I was a child. As I am now allowing my mind and body to unite with my soul . . . . as I am now allowing my conscious mind and subconscious mind to join together to become a perfect mind . . . . as I am now allowing myself to eradicate the suffering within myself that I have allowed to occur . . . as I am now walking on the path to peace and happiness and not causing the suffering of others . . . . . . I see myself as an ethical person, my writing as a tool to be editor of my life; that my writing is allowing me to have responsibility of my own life and I believe that my writing, one of millions, will be a witness to the conditions that rob others of their voice.

To complete this writing I took a vow not to take a shower nor attempt to venture off the house property until it is done. My last shower, if you must know was Thursday morning. No, I do not feel dirty nor do I have an unpleasant body odor. The western habit of bathing everyday is a misuse of water to me but if I were going out each day I’m sure I would be taking one each day. This morning before breakfast, in anticipation that I will go off this property tomorrow morning, I walked to the path near the pool leading up further into the mountain. (pool? There’s a pool on the farmer’s land on the side of a mountain, you ask. Yes, indeed! A good size one at that. It’s about 4′ deep and about 10′ x 10′ with constantly running spring water into it. It was just cleaned on Friday and it looked so inviting this morning. I was tempted of dipping into it this afternoon but alas I must delay that pleasure also until this writing is up to date.) I also looked elsewhere for other paths that I might take. My goal is to be up to date with my writing by the end of the day, go for a three-hour adventure tomorrow beginning at 6:00 am when the light has already dawned, come back for a breakfast and take a shower after breakfast. It is now 10:45 am and I have twenty-six days of covering in this one day so here I go.

April 1, Thursday, New Delhi

Dentist appointment at 10:00 am. The dentist worked on me until about 12:30 p.m. and asked me to come back at 2:30 p.m. as she would be able to do more work on me at that time. I decided to walk about the area (Hauz Khas), go to the internet and see the optometrist. When I got back I was told she wouldn’t be able to do any more work on me today as she was working on a patient that involved more work than she had thought. I walked out of the office miffed for having hung around the area and dealing with the heat and then to be told I wasn’t to be seen for more work. Having all this dental work being done, day after day, and wanting to get as much done each day that I’m in the area and now not to get more done. Not to my liking. Oh well, I walked up to Aurobindo Marg, the day was hot, didn’t see an empty auto rickshaw (auto) walking up to the main street, stood under a tree for a while watching cars and buses go by but no empty auto to take me back to the ashram. Buses going by . . . another bus goes by, bus, public transportation. Get on a bus, Nora, you idiot! All I got to do is open my mouth and get an affirmative answer to “Aurobindo Ashram, Mother’s School Bus Stop, IIT Bus Stop?” and I can be on a bus and have a ride back to my room. A bus driver said yes when I said Mothers School so on I went and it was only Rs 5 compared to the Rs 40 the auto drivers had been charging me; eight bus rides compared to one auto drive. When the bus driver’s assistant collecting the fares heard that the driver had said yes to my Mothers School inquiry he laughed and didn’t even collect my fare. The bus didn’t even go that far south and the driver told me yes! What’s up with that one I don’t know. Anyhow, there was another passenger on board who heard the situation and he was kind enough to tell me where I needed to get off to catch another bus that would take me to Mother’s School bus stop. One mistake and not too time consuming for my first on my own bus ride in India. Not bad. So, from now on, just go to the bus stop and keep asking until I feel confident that the bus I decide to get on will take me to where I need to go. Another first and victory for this foreign traveler in India! Yee Pee!

Drats! The mosquitoes have decided to become room mates with me! Damn! Their first day with me had me waking up with lots of bites all over my legs and arms and itching! I am surprised they aren’t other places because it has been so hot that when I go to bed I sleep only in my underpants and don’t even have a sheet over me. Thank God for hydro cortisone cream. India is known for having mosquitoes. There is a lot of areas where pools of stagnant water are. I think all over India chances of mosquitoes are present. I have heard that they have people out and spraying a lot. I’ll be spraying repellent on my body tonight before I go to bed. Thank God that I brought it or I’d be one big mosquito bite.

April 2, Friday, Delhi

Another day to the dentist. On the way back to the ashram I bought myself some street food, got to the bus station, ate it there, then got on the bus back to the ashram. Mosquitoes again tonight. How is it that all of a sudden they decide to be in the ashram area? How are they getting into my room? Oh well, another experience of India, if I want to think of it in a positive light. I know mosquitoes biting you can’t really be thought of in a positive light but I had been forewarned about them in LP so I came prepared and am now experiencing what I knew to be an occurrence in India.

April 3, Saturday, Delhi

I did a little room cleaning. The broom that I’ve seen used here in India is the shape of a witches’ broom. It’s about 3′ long. It’s used for sweeping the floors and streets. I don’t have one of those and the dirt on the floor isn’t bothering me so I didn’t get into cleaning any of that away. I did some dusting of places that looked to me they never dust. In my bathroom there is a shower, no bathtub. When one showers there is no curtain / door to keep water from going on to the floor outside of the shower area. The floor is marble and so is the rest of my room’s floor. There are drains in the floor in the shower area, under the sink and near the toilet. To clean the floor of this water they have this tool that looks like a squeegee. When I got my first room at the ashram, this tool was in my bathroom. I asked for one in my second room. This third time I decided to do without. The floor not only had water on it but all the dirt that came in from the bathroom window which I wasn’t able to close as the apparatus to close it had broken. It looked pretty bad. With my “make use of what you have” mentality I decided the floor needed cleaning even without that squeegee. I poured water all over the floor and just got out a cleaning cloth I had gotten here in India and cleaned up the floor that way; wiping all of the water in to the drains. That cloth was really really dirty though. I had to soak it a good while even before I washed it. The floor looked nice again and I felt really good about that. I am so glad that I brought shoes to wear just for bathroom use. I have another just to wear inside my room. I change shoes when I go into the bathroom and change them when I go out of the bathroom. Sounds like a bit too much perhaps but those bathroom shoes are also worn when I shower. I never place my bare feet on the floor of the bathroom or my room. I have no idea what their standards of cleaning are so I think its safer to wear shoes. I can’t remember if I mentioned to you that when a guest leaves their room, they take the blankets and sleeping bags and just air them on the rails outside to air out; no washing. When I think of all those creatures living on our bodies and going on to those items and then being used by others, I do not have pleasant images. Creepy or what? I don’t really know but in the west we’re made to think that we’ve got to get rid of those little creatures. Here they just air out the items and I bet those creatures keep on living in those beddings. But, here again, I don’t really know. Ah, we westerners and our ideas of bacteria free healthy (?) living, hu?

I went to see the ayurvedic doctor today at the ashram health center. I told her of my main concerns and she told me that she wouldn’t be able to answer me today as I had several concerns and in different areas of my body. She said that if I were to schedule a complete session with her she would go over my body and mind types and then determine what course of treatment was best for me. She said the session would consist of four meetings in which she asked me questions from a questionnaire and the fifth session, all sessions about 45 minutes each, would be her course of treatment for me based on what my body and mind type is and my answers. I had read of ayurvedic medicine and knew it was a holistic approach to wellness and that it was an ancient system of India. The cost would be Rs 2400 (about $53 USD) It wasn’t that much money to learn and experience another way to treating the body so I decided to do it.

April 4, Sunday, Delhi

Today was another first; a ghastly one at that as far as western ladies and maybe even gentlemen may be concerned. I was walking about the ashram grounds and had to use the bathroom quite suddenly so I used the public one while out walking. OMG, no toilet paper. It was quite necessary to use the left hand so I did and then I used the water nozzle to the side of the toilet to rinse my left hand. I go to the sink to wash my hands and even in the ashram they have no soap! Gasp! One uses their left hand after using the toilet and one can’t even wash the germs off that hand before going out of the bathroom! Yuck! Yuck! Yuck!

Speaking of hands and on a much more positive use of them, the Indian people are new (as to how new, that I do not know) to using utensils to eat their food. It is usual for them to use their right hand and gather the food with their fingers to bring up to their mouths. Most meals consist of rice and dal (a liquid base with all kinds of solids in it). The rice and dal is mixed together, well enough, to a consistency they can form a lump of both rice and dal in which they gather up with their hand and put in to their mouths. A lady I first met at the ashram in February who lives in London but is of Bengali descent ate her food that way. She tells me it is more meaningful to eat one’s food this way, having something to do with the sacred (if I remember correctly). I have yet to pick up this habit and think I probably never will unless I was without utensils because I have a hard time just keeping my fingers from feeling dirty eating with my utensils!

At breakfast I saw a new guest. She was wearing a bag that I would like to have. The one I had gotten before I left for India was a major disappointment to me and I, in fact, donated it to the ashram when I got rid of a lot of my stuff. Anyhow, I got up and introduced myself and told her that I really liked her bag. Her name is Judy Ling and she is from Vancouver, Canada. She also traveled alone in India, and it was her first time traveling alone also. She responded with “and I see we are wearing the same shoes.” (my Chacos which I dearly love. Great open sandal for walking anywhere, great traction on the soles!) We picked up a conversation and proceeded to spend most of the day together. She came to my room and shared some backpacking ideas with me. I went to her room and she showed me some of the items she had bought on her journey. Of particular importance was the clothes that she had bought at Fabindia and Anoki (means unique in Hindi). I have been looking to buy some Indian women’s wear but had been hesitant to do so because of the chance that the colors might run. I had that occur with an outfit that I bought in Oaxaca, Mexico and that was very disappointing as it changed the colors of the outfit and the color went on to my other clothes. I didn’t want to have that happen again. She told me that with these clothes they wouldn’t do that and were made to last. I now knew where I was going to go to buy myself some Indian wear.

Judy is into yoga and even brought her yoga mat with her (which she gave me when she left India and I now have – April 26 – ), She showed me a few good yoga asanas (postures) that would help me on a daily basis.

We decided to go out together for the day. We went to the Iskcon Temple (Hari Krishna). Getting there gave us an experience of the language problem between English speakers and auto drivers. We asked the driver if he knew where Iskcon Temple was. We said it was near Lotus Temple. We showed him our trusty handy-dandy New Delhi map (the best one there is I was told by a tourist man). We pointed to Iskcon Temple and said we wanted to go here. We pointed to Lotus Temple and said it was near Iskcon. We want to go to Iskcon Temple. He shook his head aggressively in the affirmative when we told him we wanted to go to Iskcon Temple. He took us to Lotus Temple which is actually a bit farther east. We had to tell him again, we wanted Iskcon Temple and even pointed to the west to let him know it was over there. This habit of saying yes even though they do not understand what is being said is common everywhere I’ve heard. It is frustrating and perplexing to me why they think saying yes is better than admitting that they have no understanding of what you are saying. I know it is necessary for me to stop feeling this way as it is their way and just take it as part of the Indian way of life and probably even figuring that into the time it might take you to get to a place or even getting something done by them.

Iskcon Temple is a very big complex. Not only do they have a temple, but a restaurant, a light show, a robot show and some other displays which we didn’t see all of. In the temple music was playing continuously and over and over again I heard “hari krishna, hari krishna, hari krishna . . . . “ between other words but mainly “hari krishna” There was a man up near the altar who was whirling around. He just kept whirling. I’ve seen the Sufis doing that; I think it’s their way to get in contact with the divine. I told Judy jokingly that if you keep going around like that , the dizziness, the mixing up of your head, would make anyone think that they were near the divine, they’d be so woozy. I know, disrespectful, but it makes me wonder, how can going around and around like that cause anything but your mind to not feel right and anything abnormal could come out of that way of feeling, even a sense that you’ve connected with the divine. Okay, okay, I seriously don’t know but . . . ? The meal cost Rs 300! It was a buffet and you could eat all you want. For both Judy and I the amount was quite a lot as we’re in the less than Rs 50 per meal eaters ourselves but we had said we’d eat there so we went for it. It was great food, even included ice cream and rice pudding which Judy is so in love with. She had two, or was it three?, servings of pudding; it was indeed her heaven. I, of course, ate the ice cream and hers also. The idea of having rice as a dessert doesn’t appeal to me. For me, having rice in my meal at lunch and dinner as it is here in India is enough rice for me. They also make a rice porridge for breakfast. The thought makes my stomach churn.

Speaking of stomach I have found that eating food cooked in oil (including butter), be it fried or laid on oil to cook is not any good for my stomach. It feels icky after eating the oily food. This is also happening to me if it is sweet or with milk. I think it is because of the heat but maybe it is the type that they use here. I don’t know.

After the temple we went to Lajpat Market (aka Central Market). I had heard from several people that it was a very good market. Judy loves to shop. I do not. Someone had told me that I might find a store that sold the stainless steel mug with a handle that I was looking for here. Success! I did find a well made one and it cost me more than I thought I would have to pay for it. I wish I had found it sooner. When I first came to India and had my tea or hot milk at the ashram, the only cups they had for it were ones without handles and I found it difficult to put as much tea in them as I wanted without a handle for the heat of the beverage made the cup too hot to hold. By this time I no longer desired to drink the tea nor the hot milk as I had grown weary of both their tastes (well truth be told the milk I had not grown weary of but because I knew the sugar added to it was not good for me so I had decided not to drink it anymore). I still felt I needed the cup with the handle for my travels as I could attach it to my clamp on my backpack. I could use it for a beverage or a soup or whatever should I have a need. In another store I found the one that I had actually wanted and at a cost that I had anticipated but I had already bought the one and didn’t need another. I did succumb to buying myself one of those cute containers that I see so many in India carrying their milk in. It is a steel round container with a lid and a handle coming off its side. I am a sucker for containers! I love containers. I bought some in Mexico and now I’ve got one from India.

The market sprawls over quite a large area. It has both items for everyday life as well as tourist items and souvenirs. It bothers me though when the vendors who walk about carrying their wares walk alongside you and keep hounding you to buy what they have, no matter how unnecessary an item it is and even try to persuade you with “only one, madam.” Some have even followed me for minutes trying to get me to buy. Ugh! We went down an isle that had items for people getting married. There were many vendors there doing henna painting, a traditional art form done on both the bride and groom. The henna is different colors, you choose, it’s like a paste. They put it into a cone-shaped container with an open tip at one end. It is beautiful art work. I love it but I don’t see doing it because I know it wears off within weeks so I can’t see spending my money on something that’ll be gone in so short a time. Judy went for it on her hand. When she left India, she would be going to a wedding in Japan so felt it would be a way to dress herself up for the occasion. Her work was done on her hand. It began on the tip of her middle finger and then on to the top of her hand up to her wrist. I loved it. I would love to have a tattoo like that even. As the henna dried though it flaked off her hand and I felt really sorry that the beautiful ink was going. But this ink actually penetrates your skin, like a dye, and stays in your skin so you can still see the artwork.

We were thirsty and Judy knew about a beverage that she said really quenched your thirst. It was plain soda water with the juice of one lemon in it. We looked around. At first all we were seeing was this soda made with sugar. We both had no appetite for sugar, just plain soda water is all we wanted. Can none be found in this vast market? We found a place that had plain soda water and it also had fresh squeezed juices. They had lemon. That was the first time I had drunk that combination. I now know a good drink to have when I’ve the yen for a soda, no more Pepsi or Coke, but plain soda water with lemon in it. That does it for me.

Judy and I both took some pictures in the market. She told me that it’s best to be careful who you take pictures of because some women do not like having their pictures taken and they can be pretty mean if they catch you taking their picture. Judy said she has even known some to come after you if you try. There was this one woman who was selling little boxes. Her clothes and jewelry really made her stand out. I think she was a poor woman but she did look so beautiful. Judy had asked her directly if she could take a picture of her and the lady had told her no, adamantly. Without the lady looking or knowing I took a picture of her from the side; two actually. The second one the lady looked towards me and she had a very ugly look on her face. I quickly turned away and kept on walking and thanked God I didn’t hear any footsteps running after me.

After we had seen what we wanted at Lajpat Market and the night was still early we both had the urge to check out a Fabindia store so we asked around and to our excitement there was one nearby so off we went into another auto to another market, this one Greater Kalish. This market area is not for the common person. It seemed to be for the higher income earner. It was clean, well maintained, trees and lawn area, doormen at every shop. We not only got to go into Fabindia but another of her favorites, Anoki. Judy tells me Fabindia has Indian wear while Anoki has more western style clothing as well as Indian wear. In Fabindia I tried on the kurtas (blouses) and the salweers (trousers). I found six kurtas that I liked. The salweers have a lot of gathering to them just below the torso area in the front and the back. I found they made me look even bigger so I didn’t get any of them. When Judy showed me hers the prices were about $10 USD each so I only looked at the prices when I first saw my first two or three items. Without even looking at the prices I bought the items. It wasn’t until I heard the total that I thought “How could I have decided to get these without even looking at the prices? I am so good at seeing what the price is before I buy something. What happened to me doing that with these purchases?” According to purchases normally made in the states by most consumers the prices were still considerably lower but according to the prices I usually pay for items, they were way above. I think I was so happy to find Indian wear that fit my body and I knew to be of sound quality that I didn’t consider what the price would be. I had blind faith in Judy that the prices were not high, but that is according to her standards and not mine. When I told my dentist here in India about Fabindia she even said that their prices were high. I found that statement surprising as I had thought that with her income as a dentist the prices would be within her range.

In Anoki I could see that it was a standard well above my own and really didn’t look at anything. Judy found something and bought it. While we were in line I noticed that the bag they gave for your purchase was a pretty cloth one. I asked the sales woman if I could buy one, just to have as a souvenir and I’m always using cloth bags for one reason or another. I was given one without cost and without having to purchase anything.

April 5, Monday, Delhi

I left my Sri Aurobindo Ashram room at 8:45 am and didn’t return to it until 8:30 p.m. It was a very hot day. It was the first time I had been out and about during the day for most of the day. When I got back, I had thought I’d be going to a movie with Judy as that is what we discussed but when I knocked on her door, there was no answer. Actually I was glad there was no answer as I didn’t really feel like I could keep going. I was so exhausted after being out in that heat all day I really did not want to go anywhere but to lie down on my bed and crash.

My day was not spent having fun but attending to business. I went to the ayurvedic doctor, the dentist, and the optometrist. I went to the dentist twice. In between visits I walked up Aurobindo Marg to an area called Yusef Sarai. I was told there was an area there that had silversmiths shops. I had brought from home some broken silver jewelry that I hoped to find someone to fix. It was the middle of the afternoon. I was told it was about five minutes walk going north. Because of all the vehicles traveling, as well as the metro construction going on and the heat it was not a pleasant excursion. I got to the area Yusef Sarai and discovered it didn’t just cover a couple of blocks but maybe blocks long and that deep. Where was I to begin to look for this row of silversmiths? I had no idea. I decided to check out Nirula’s, a fast food Indian place, and get something to eat as I hadn’t had lunch yet. For my beverage I asked if they had diet Pepsi / Coke and was told it wasn’t diet. I said I didn’t want anything with sugar in it; I’ll have the ice tea, thinking it wasn’t already made with sugar in it. When I got the ice tea, I took a sip and knew it was sweetened. I went up to the counter and asked if there was sugar in the ice tea. I was told the mixture came with sugar already in it. Here again, a language problem. I asked for my money back and got it. While I was there I asked a lady if she knew where these silversmiths were. She nor anyone else I asked could give me a specific area. I decided to walk up a bit further after lunch just to see if I might find it. After a few minutes I said to myself that it was impossible and went back to the dentist, sweating like crazy, face red from the heat, body drained from the heat sapping my energy out of me. How do they tolerate this? They’re walking around as if they’re just out for a casual stroll without any discomfort at all and I’m thinking I’m going to die out here!

As to the dentist, today I finally got my three new crowns and my two new laminate front teeth and the rest of my major work done. My last appointment will be to scale my teeth and be sure everything is as it should be is this coming Friday.

At 7:45 p.m. I walk into the optometrist to get my sunglasses. He tells me his workshop is closed and that there’s no one to adjust my glasses for me. So, I have to come back another day and pick them up.

April 6, Tuesday, Delhi

This morning I had to use the toilet many times due to diarrhea. I’ve been dealing with this for about two weeks now but so far it has not been so often and I’ve been able to control it so that it hasn’t affected my activities. This morning’s frequency has caused alarm in me and I decided to forego breakfast, just have the tea I have in my room. A nice cup of tea, even though it’s sun tea and room temperature will be good for my upset intestines. I have not taken anything for the diarrhea. When I was talking to Judy she mentioned that using tap water to brush my teeth with was not safe and that I might have some parasite that might need antibiotics to actually kick this out of my system. Since I came to India, I’ve just used the tap water to brush my teeth and rinse my mouth. That container I got on Sunday with the handle was put into service as one to fill up with drinking water and use in the bathroom for just this purpose.

I used my cell phone this morning to make my first call to the USA.

Before going to my ayurvedic session I went to the Sri Aurobindo Ashram health center to inquire about my intestinal problem. He gave me two prescriptions for it. After the session I went back to the ashram for lunch and met up with Judy. At 2:30 p.m. we got on a bus going south to an area called Saket. Due to a misunderstanding on her part we got off quite a distance before Citywalk, a really nice air-conditioned mall, and then walked from where we got off to Citywalk ourselves although the bus that dropped us off would have also dropped us off at Citywalk. Oh well, walking is good for you even though the temperature it not cool enough for my walking comfort. Right next to Citywalk is another mall. Having two malls side by side was strange to me. We made the mistake of going into the other mall first. Judy was determined to see a movie in India and we almost saw a movie in the other mall. I was able to persuade her to look for the other cinema area that I had visited when I was in Citywalk and there was an Information Booth nearby who told us we were not in Citywalk. We both wanted to see a Bollywood movie while we were in India but none of them were with English subtitles and we both had no desire to sit through a movie and listen to a language we couldn’t understand so we saw a Hollywood movie called “Now” with Nicholas Cage. Mind you, it was a good movie but it was disappointing not to see a Bollywood movie in India.

Judy and I had a nice time just hanging in the mall. We got out of the movie after 9:00p.m. When you go inside a cinema in India, you are not allowed to bring in bags or camera and some other stuff. Well, we both had backpacks so we had to check them in. It is because of the terrorist attacks that you can’t bring in these bags and certain types of things. Fair enough, but when you exit the cinema, the exit is way far away from where you checked in your bags and on another floor! Crazy! You get out of the cinema in a very unfamiliar place, far away from the entrance to the cinema, have to walk almost all over the mall to get back to the location that you checked your bags in! Crazy! Judy and I laughed and said but it’s good for you to walk, keeps you fit!

We decided that we would take public transportation to get back to the ashram. We waited at the bus stop where I was pretty sure the bus that took us would stop to go back the way it came. We waited for a while. Too long for Judy’s comfort so she made inquiries and then determined that we needed to walk a block more to go to another stop where our bus would actually pick us up. Again, we waited too long for Judy and she inquired again. She decided we needed to walk down further. We passed a couple on the way and asked them about the bus we wanted. There was a street vendor who knew the bus we wanted that was there when we asked the couple and he told us that the bus we wanted had stopped for the night. It was good to know that the knowledge I had that the bus I wanted indeed would have stopped at the stop I thought it would. The couple asked us why we didn’t take an auto; were we without enough money? We said we just wanted to take public transportation. I think there is some class issues about the type of transportation one takes. She gave us a look as if we didn’t quite have our minds right and hailed an auto for us and arranged a price for us to pay the driver. Kind of funny as it wasn’t the money at all but just our desire to not use a vehicle for just our use.

While we were walking from the beautiful mall to a bus stop that would take us back to the ashram we encountered stray dogs and quite a number of cows. We are walking on a major road. There is a raised divider in the middle of the road. Cows are off to the left of the sidewalks as well as standing in the middle of the road on the divider. Cows love garbage bins, those tall rectangular ones with the lid on top. I’ve seen them rummage thru them and chewing with whatever they find in there. Wait a minute!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I though cows ate grass! But they’re eating what from the garbage bins? These cows that are walking about alone without a human tending to them, here and there about the city, how does this come about? In the villages I see all of the cows tied up to very short ropes but in the cities they are roaming about without any restrictions. Hari tells me that these animals belong to someone. If they do, why aren’t they kept at home or at least in view of their owners? What do these cows being unfettered tell me about how they are perceived or taken care of by the people of India? I don’t have a clue as I write this.

April 7, Wednesday, Delhi

Since I had no problem calling the United States yesterday I decided to call Cara today for the first time. (Well, I actually did call her yesterday but she wasn’t answering her phone so could only leave a message) We talked for maybe about an hour. (Rs 9 a minute to call USA / Canada; got to get the plan where I Rs 27 a month to call there for Rs 2 a minute) I love talking to her. It feels so good to be able to hear her voice and to hear what she is up to. I am so happy I have a cell phone I can use to call anywhere in the world and I will never travel again without having a cell phone on my list of essential items to have with me.

Today is Judy’s last day in Delhi so I decided that whatever she wanted to do together with me we would do. She wanted to go to the Lotus Temple, The Bahai House of Worship. It is a very beautiful house of worship. We first went into their visitor’s center. It is immense and very high-tech for India’s standards I think. One of the items that really piqued my interest was the pictures of Bahai Houses of Worship all over the world. The picture of the United State’s only had the words “United States” while all the others in other countries of the world also included the city and state or at least the state. Why doesn’t the US House of Worship picture include the state? I find that very odd. The reason is probably some little thing but it is a source of irritation in my mind. While at the temple I had the opportunity of asking a young man if he knew the reason. He gave me his reason without a second thought but I have no idea if he just shot it off the top of his head or he actually was told that reason by someone and he was using his own words to explain it. His explanation had something to do with United States is united and it is one country and all its people are united. I didn’t understand how that explanation answered my question as to why no state was mentioned.

The grounds are beautiful and off to the west I could see Iskcon Temple. Off to the south I saw what looked like another temple but I don’t know what it was. The area outside the grounds is not so nice looking, full of makeshift vendors stalls and lots of trash. On the walk leading to the temple entrance we had to take our shoes off. They have an unusual set up where you place your shoes. There’s a large center walkway leading directly into the center of the temple entrance. As you get closer to the temple an area has been set up for you to take off your shoes and have them held for you. Off to the center of this walkway on each side are these rooms that are actually 2/3/ below the level of the walkway. One has to walk down some steps to be at level with the staff checking in your shoes in these rooms. You have to actually get on your knees to be at eye level with the staff taking your shoes through tiny slits in these rooms. A very unusual and awkward set up. A sort of fake grass carpet is laid down on the walkway to keep your bare feet from burning. That was a nice thing to do. When I was at Iskcon Temple you felt the heat of their walkways. At the doors to the temple a guide gave us a brief discussion about the history and their faith. I was going to take a picture of the person speaking with my back to the temple and I was not permitted to do so. I wonder if taking pictures of public buildings also has something to do with potential terrorist attacks. When I went to the temple for Naw Rooz I was able to take pictures of the temple and of its inside.

Judy and I both sat down and meditated for about a half hour. When we exited we spoke with some of the volunteers. Here we met the young man I spoke of earlier. I recorded his answer as well as a song he was eager to sing for me. The recording has a lot of static on it so I’m afraid that as it is now, I will not be able to share it on the internet as I had hoped unless someone tells me how to get rid of that static.

After existing the temple, a man came up to us and started walking with us. Both Judy and I are leery of such encounters. We walked over to the stalls looking for some fresh squeezed juice to drink if we were lucky enough to. We were lucky. This one man just lingered with us. When we finished we went out looking for an auto to take us back to the ashram. We were trying to get a price we wanted. All around us were drivers waiting to get a passenger. This man was trying to get us as his passengers also. We said all we wanted to pay was X amount. He said fine so we got in. Once we were in, he said that all we had to do was stop at two places where they were selling stuff. Judy and I are both not into that kind of auto ride and we both got up off our seats at the same time and said no thank you and exited the auto. I think it’s kind of funny that we both had the same exact reaction to that situation. We finally found a driver that would take us back to the ashram without any stops on the way! Whew! That situation can be such an ordeal!

I had scheduled an ayurvedic massage for Judy and I that afternoon so at 3:30 p.m. off we went in another auto to my ayurvedic doctor for our 4:00 p.m. appointment. Here again, without reason, we were kept waiting until 4:15 until they began to have us prepare for our massage. I saw that there was only one table prepared. I had said when I made the appointment that we both needed to get the massage done at the same time as she had to catch her flight that evening. I had even asked the doctor can your two staff people do massages because my friend and myself had to be massaged at the same time not one after the other and the doctor had told me yes. Aye, aye, aye. Before either one of us was to lay down I said that we both had to be massaged at the same time or we weren’t able to have it done. They set up the table in the doctor’s office and both of us were done at the same time.

This was another first for me . . . an ayurvedic massage. When they say whole body massage they really mean W H O L E body. The only area of my body that did not get massaged was the area at the end of my torso between my legs. My, my, my, how they massage parts of your body, you’d never dream they’d use a technique like that. I will not get into it but if anyone cares to know I will share it with them personally. They use an oil on your body when they massage it and they keep the room warm, no fans or air conditioner on. The oil had a smell that I didn’t find pleasant, it was red in color. When they are all done, they take a towel and wipe you down over all the areas that have been massaged. The oil stains your clothes but does wash out eventually.

When we were done with the massage we went to the Achichini Market across the street from the ashram to get ourselves a facial. This one beauty parlor has a special going on from 3:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. so we hoped to get that. We arrived at 5:55 p.m. We were able to get the special price for the facial but there was only one lady available so Judy got the facial. I went to the store, bought myself two diet Pepsi’s and two Cadbury chocolate bars, went to my room and ate and drank it all. Judy knocked on my door about 7:50 p.m. and said she got out of her facial a bit after 7:00 p.m. and was really worried she wasn’t going to make her 8:00 p.m. taxi ride to the airport but she did. We said good-bye. I think she is another friend I have made while here in India.

Another thing that happened to me today was that I went to the ashram registration office to pay for my room for the week and was told there was no extensions; a group of teachers was coming Friday and Saturday night and I needed to leave the ashram. I was almost speechless! I do not think it is a good practice to inform guests at the last minute that their room is not going to be available in two days. Here I am in a strange country, I have no plans to go anywhere, I have no ideas of where I can go next and in such a short time. . . need to arrange transportation, hotel, whatever and pack all within a 48 hour period. No words from any of the staff as to possible suggestions or alternatives, just there’s a group coming in and we need your room, you have to move out! One of the staff did say, however, to see her in the morning to talk about it. Wow! What a way to treat another human being.

April 8, Thursday, Delhi

Not knowing what was before me when I went to the registration office I made it a point to keep calm, have my breakfast, go to the meditation hall and meditate for an hour no matter what. When I left the hall I walked by a guest who I’d been observing for a few days and had a desire to make acquaintance with. I stopped and introduced myself. Her name is Jamie and she is from Arizona. Talk about a synchronicity moment. She provided me with the information I needed if I needed to move out by tomorrow. Awesome! Even told me of a yoga ashram in Rishikesh that had air-conditioned guest rooms. Yee Pee.

After seeing Jamie I went to the registration office to find out my fate. I was told I could I go to a student’s vacant room. Thank God! I packed up my stuff, used the opportunity to get rid of what I had already decided to donate to Sri Aurobindo Ashram and looked closely at all I still had to get rid of more. I still have that humongous suitcase but inside it I also have the carry on bag and then all the stuff I want to take back home. The clothes I’m still using I have in a collapsible bag I bought in Pajar Ganj when I was with Hari. Taking all my stuff over to my new room makes me feel so bad that I still have so much stuff. It’s disgusting for one person to have so much stuff with her while on vacation. After moving everything on over I went to my 6:00 p.m. ayurvedic appointment and then came back to the ashram and crashed. Having to have to go thru that sudden move really stresses and drains me.

April 9, Friday, Delhi

Today was my fourth session at the ayurvedic. I gave her my medical reports from Paras Hospital to look over. I walked around the area, went to the Deer Park, looked for an internet place but found it to be cramped, stuffy and very warm so didn’t use it. I walked around on streets I didn’t know where they lead to but got back to the street I needed to get back to the doctor to retrieve my papers. I picked up my new sunglasses. Went to the chemist, the internet and the tailor to get the bell legs of my two pairs of jeans straightened (cost Rs 40, $1.00 USD).

April 10, Saturday, Delhi and Gurgoan, Haryana

Today is the day I decided I would gather up my courage and take the public bus to Gurgoan to go to Paras Hospital and see the last doctors I needed and wanted to see. Going on a public bus more than a half hour away by private transportation, not knowing where to go once I got dropped off, had my heart racing. I got to the bus stop about 9:00 a.m. I had with me the name of the bus and the word Gurgoan written in Hindi. I hadn’t been there more than ten minutes when I looked up and saw a bus coming at me with the Hindi letters that looked familiar to me. I looked at my piece of paper with Gurgoan written in Hindi and yes! It was the same letters! As the bus is going by me. The universe is with me. It has stopped because there is a red light! I run after it! I bang on the front door. The doors open. I ask are you the Safdarjung to Gurgoan bus? Just confirming as I saw those words in English on the bus’ backside. (on the backside, is that to tell English-speaking people, “yeah, this is the bus you wanted but since the front side was in Hindi, you didn’t get on, now you can’t get on.” ) The bus costs Rs 25 and a taxi costs Rs 400 to 500; quite a humongous difference.

I asked my way all the way to the stop I needed to get off to get the next transportation to take me to the hospital itself. The universe was with me so much that even at my stop at Iffco Chowk (pronounced chalk) a woman who also had to get off at the same stop helped me get a bicycle rickshaw to the hospital and argued with the driver to get me an Indian fare. My heart goes out to these bicycle rickshaw drivers. How they manage to pedal and with all that weight in their carriage is beyond me. This driver had to go a long way before he got to Paras Hospital. I do not know how far it was but I think it was over half a mile. I was only to pay him Rs 40 but I gave him 60. Even though he had already been chastised by the Indian woman who helped me and I had given him 20 more than he thought he would get, he still tried to get 20 more from me. I told him no. I know there is a system here and if I give more than what is generally given I will be disrupting things; how to a bad effect I don’t understand but I’ve been told that a few times. “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” I don’t go along with this underpaying of such hard labor but it is their way.

My visit at Paras went well.. I got everything done that I needed to and didn’t need to go back to them again. I had challenged myself to take a bus on my own to get to a place that was over a half hour’s journey by private transportation. When I got on the bus, the only thing I knew was that it was the one to take me to a stop that was within the vicinity of Paras Hospital; how near or far I had no information about. What I needed to do once I got off the bus I had no information about. But I was able to inquire and find the correct answer and God sent angels to greet me with each step I took on the path to Paras Hospital.

Going back to the ashram was just as easy as coming. The universe had others where I was to show me the way. It was so sweet in fact. Outside the hospital I was looking for a bicycle rickshaw to take me back to the bus stop and an employee of the hospital was also looking for one. We got on one together to where I needed to get an auto to take me to the bus stop. In Gurgoan autos carry as many as can squeeze into it. She told me that I wouldn’t have to pay more than Rs 5 for the auto. Before an auto going to my stop came by a bus came by that was going there also. Not knowing what was better I took the bus. I mad a big loop before it got to my bus stop. Boy, was that bus crowded!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I think it was the most crowded bus I have ever been on. Me with my backpack only makes things worse. It’s hard enough to squeeze your own body out of the bus and then to have to squeeze my bag through also! Wow! What an ordeal! Another ordeal! The doctor said I was brave to take the bus; he wouldn’t even be that brave. What is it about buses that people give negative comments about? I’m sure it’s a class issue.

A thing about India that I hadn’t mentioned before, I don’t think, that I noticed frequently while at the hospital was the frequency of power outages. They come and they go. At home, everyone would stop what they’re doing, say Oh, Oh and wander about until the power came back on. Here in India people continue to go about what they were doing, keeping their conversations going, whatever, without a second’s change in course.

April 13, Tuesday, Delhi

Went to India Tourism Office on Janpath to get actual facts and details about transportation to Ladakh so I can take Vipassana course I signed up for to begin April 29. I was told that the Himachal Tourist Office provided the transportation to get there or I could take an airplane. I had already found out that a flight would cost about $220 and I didn’t want to spend that much money nor did I want to travel anywhere in India on a plane; either bus or train, that was my choice of transportation while in India. So from that office I went down to the Himachal Tourism Office and there I found out that there is no road transportation to Ladakh until June, maybe late May by jeep. There went Vipassana in Ladakh for me. I left that office thinking that my plans to get out of Delhi by Thursday were not going to come into fruition.

I decided to walk over to the government emporium shops near Connaught Place. I was surprised that most of them had already closed as it wasn’t even 7:00 p.m. yet. I found the Ladakh one open of which I was extremely happy about for I knew I wouldn’t be going there this trip. I hit the silver counter and there I was lost. I bought quite a lot of jewelry. The store even stayed open past closing time because I came in before they closed. Everyone working at the time of closing had to stay until I left. I do not understand the reason for that but it is their rule. I told the staff waiting on me that I would go as it was closing time. He said no, I was a customer and the store would stay open until I was done. Perhaps they saw the dollar signs on my forehead for them to stay after closing.

After closing the store I bought myself some momos from a street vendor. I walked back to Janpath Road and hoped to find a bus stop to get a bus home as I had taken a bus to the area but I couldn’t determine where a bus stop was so I got an auto.

April 14, Wednesday, Delhi

I went to the registration office to pay my weeks room rent and was I surprised. I had thought that a student room, its location, its condition, would have warranted an adjustment in my cost. Nope, not at all. In fact they were so positive of themselves, that despite the fact that I was made to get out of my room with only 24 hours notice, relocate not to the guest rooms but to the students area with no services of any kind, not even drinking water nearby, its proximity to the noisy street and buildings of the ashram where work was being done, the same amount of money was expected from me. It was even said that at least they gave me a room to go to and I didn’t have to get another place somewhere in Delhi that would be even more expensive. Their attitude makes me think they have become very arrogant of the provisions they offer to travelers.

I am dying to be out of Delhi. The city is getting to be so hot. I’m sweating in my room. My week of my room paid up is tomorrow. I’ve got to be out of here going somewhere where it’s cooler. Looking over the brochures I got from Himachal Tourism I decide to leave for Manali on Thursday. That meant I had to book my ticket online from a public internet; either that or go back to the office and personally buy the ticket and of which I didn’t have the time to do. From Manali I had plans in my head what I was to do until I had to return to Delhi to fly home. Two months of being on my own. Who knows where. Who knows how I would get to the next place. Who knows how I would fare carrying my backpack on my back and another on my chest. Eeeeee Gods, I hope I make it! Another I’ve never done this before experience.

April 15, Thursday, Delhi

My last day in Delhi except for when I have to come back to see the dentist once more, maybe get a tattoo, pick up my stored luggage and take my flight to go home.

I was up at 4:00 a.m. Put in my last load of clothes to wash in Delhi and started doing all that I needed in order to move out. I spent my last day in the meditation hall and didn’t leave it until an hour had passed. Ah, I needed that. All day long I was busy. I did eat breakfast and lunch in the dining hall and didn’t rush. The clothes I was wearing were ones that I would leave behind, donate to the ashram. They would be dirty but so would be my sheets which is the pile I added them to. Let’s hope they don’t’ mind getting dirty clothes but if they do, they’re too high brow for me anyhow.

About 11:00 a.m. I called the Himachal Tourism Office to be sure a ticket was there for me when I arrived. Guess what? Nope. Their system of buying tickets on line didn’t work for me even though I got a confirmation number on line after I had booked the seat and given my credit card number. The man on the phone said there was one seat left and he would hold it for me but I had to get there by 6:00 p.m. so that I could purchase the ticket! Now I’ve got to call USA again to see if the charge I placed for the ticket on the internet last night went through. If it did, that has to be disputed! Another thing I might have to attend to.

For the next leg of my journey I had to get rid of whatever I had that would not fit into my backpackers backpack and my student backpack. If I couldn’t carry it in either of those or if it was too heavy for me to carry, I had to get rid of the item(s). I decided I would only have four pairs of pants and four shirts, four pair underpants, four bras, two pair socks, my four pairs of shoes, my laptop, my essential toiletries, one shawl, one dupatta, one pair of pajamas, two shorts, one sleeveless shirt, two hand towels, two towels, one sheet for bed linen, yoga mat, camera, cell phone, flip video camera, digital recorder, flashlight, batteries, chargers, LP India book, food bag, wallet and I think that’s about it. Everything else that I had brought along that I had more of at home I left at the ashram. Both of the packed bags are heavy and awkward for me to carry but I know as time goes along I’ll learn how to handle them and I’ll be stronger where I need to in order to carry them better.

I left the ashram at 5:10 p.m. Outside I looked for an auto and saw only one that was stopped without a passenger. The driver wanted Rs 90 which I knew was more than usual but what do you do when you’ve got bags all over your body and you got to get somewhere so you can get on a bus that leaves at 6:30 p.m.? OMG that driver must have known I was in a hurry because he was the slowest driver I have ever had but I kept my mouth shut and just prayed to God that I would get there in time. I did, I was inside the tourism office at 6:00 p.m. like I had been told.

Goodbye Delhi. I have no intention of seeing you again until June 20 as my plane doesn’t leave for home until 1:10 a.m. on June 23, 2010.

My Trip to Dharamasala, Himachal Pradesh, India in March, 2010

wheels are on a main street

Sunday, March 7 –Here I go again. Unpacked my suitcases when I got back from Vipassana on February 28 and am packing up again to go on another trip for about a week. I consider myself lucky to go because I had someone to go with me. My email friend, Hari Kharuna who lives here in New Delhi, wanted to go to Dharamasala, McLeodganj, both in Himachal Pradesh and Chandigarh, Haryana. The first two places are also known as Lower Dharamasala and Upper Dharamasala respectively.

McLeodganj is where the Dalai Lama has established his residence, his area of rule and has built his home and a temple there. It is known as the Buddhist capital of the world. His home and the temple are on the same grounds. The Dalai Lama was forced to flee his home in Tibet in the 1950s when the Chinese overthrew his country and took control of it. India was the only country who was willing to give him refuge I was told by the hotel manager, D. R. Sharma, of the Kashmir Hotel that I stayed at. He said that the Buddhist religion came out of India and India felt that Hinduism and Buddhism were from the same origin; it was their obligation to provide refuge for this holy man of a similar religion.

In order for me to experience travel in India by bus as well as train Hari had planned that we take a bus to McLeodganj and a train from Chandigarh back to Delhi. We went to Himachal Bhawan (means house) building on Janpath to purchase bus tickets at Himachal Pradesh Tourism Office. To purchase train tickets we went to a train ticket office in Sarojini Nagar. Our tickets were on a waiting list so Hari suggested we go to the train station itself to the Foreigner’s Ticket Office to see if there were any open allocated foreigner’s tickets still remaining so that I could exchange my waiting list ticket for one of them. No luck. Hari said that if we had been able to get one, it would work out to where he could also slip on in with that ticket of mine and there would be room enough for him and he would pay for his fare that day of departure. Confused about that scenario but it involves more details than I know to be able to understand it.

Packing and unpacking has definitely told me that I have way too much stuff with me. I have enough stuff to fill a 62” check in suitcase as well as a carry on as well as a student backpack, all bulging and really awkward to carry. I met a couple who were traveling for a year and she had only one backpack for all of her stuff for a year!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! How!!!!!!!!!!!!????????????????? When I get back I am definitely going to work on downsizing. My goal is to be a traveler with only a backpacker’s backpack and one everyday bag.

My one suitcase that I put in the suitcase locker here at the ashram was bulging; had to sit on its top to zip it all up. I attached my empty backpacker’s backpack to it to make it one piece of luggage to check in; 10 rupees (Rs) a day, less than a quarter for storing. What fun (NOT!) I had putting it in the little narrow room with all the other suitcases! The ashram has got to get a larger room for all the suitcases that their visitors are wanting to store whilst they go elsewhere. And, I am not speaking only on my behalf! It is quite narrow. Cases are stacked many high off of the floor as well as on the shelving unit they have provided. Having lost 2000 calories putting my humongous bulging suitcase into storage (hee hee hee, . . . although it sure felt like it) I left the ashram looking for a taxi to take me to Hari’s apartment. My perception at that time didn’t see me taking my carry on suitcase, my student backpack and myself into an auto rickshaw (for those that have been in Thailand, and probably many other places, they are also called tuk tuks). These vehicles are three wheel motorcycles with a top and open sides. For short, they are simply called “autos” here whereas a taxi is called a “taxi.” There were several vehicle drivers at the main gate trying to assist me with my transportation and trying to get me to take an auto but I could only see myself getting into a taxi with my stuff. Another issue is that for me to get an auto going my direction was that I had to cross the street as the side of the street the ashram is on traffic goes the opposite direction. I had no idea if I would need to end up crossing the street with its high curbs and harrowing drivers careening by not only having to walk myself across but maneuver my luggage on its wheels across it! It was inviting impeding doom in my perception! The drivers probably thought this was a crazy spoiled rich American who could only drive in a taxi and was not good enough for an auto.

I got my taxi for only Rs 50 and got to Hari’s apartment complex. I walk with my carry on suitcase but bulging and student backpack equally bulging to his apartment and walk up two flights of stairs to his apartment. Another success for me! This was my first time going somewhere here in India by myself where once I got dropped off I had to locate the next door to get through. You may question the word success but when you know that I was afraid to leave the ashram alone the first couple of weeks that I got here, you understand.

Hari looked at my suitcase and didn’t say a word but he was kind enough to hire a taxi to take us to our bus point. He had a bag half my size and a small canvas bag for his everyday bag; he probably had half the amount of what I had. Laugh and chuckle all you want at my lack of traveler’s experience you world travelers. I am laughing now as I think of the sight I must have been for those in the know. I can say I had no choice as I had all this stuff I brought with me not knowing what I needed for six months of living in India, what the weather would be, where I would be, blah , blah, blah. And , of course, I was ignorant of what essentials I needed to take with me. I provided Hari with another moment of silent laughter when I went down the steep stairs to where the bus was located. Rather than carrying my carry on as I went down the steps as I even thought it might be too heavy to lift, I allowed it to bump and twist and turn down the steps , one at a time, as I grudgingly inwardly but outwardly tried not to show any discomfort walking down those steep steps. The steps I’ve come across in India have mostly been narrow and very high! Is it because of the monsoons? I ask myself as I walk some of them (even the ones going into the Lotus Temple) what do the disabled do to get into these places with all those steps.

Bathrooms . . . In India, they aren’t called bathrooms. They are called toilets or washrooms. Here is a moment to speak about the ones I’ve experienced in India. Filthy! The one at the bus stop . . . It looked as if no one had paid it any attention nor were there any thoughts of paying it any attention. Here’s your toilet, person. In here, you may empty your bladder or intestines and leave. What more do you need? No toilet paper or hand drying implements or soap to wash hands have been seen in most of the ones I’ve been in. I’ve seen attendants sweeping debris off their premises, mops being used to clean up a spot here and there but the bathrooms seem to not be thought of when it comes to cleaning. I don’t know why as yet. I’ve been to doctor’s offices and there hasn’t been paper , towels, soap. Mirrors are filthy. Layers of one can only guess have accumulated over much of what is in those rooms. As a prepared and carry too much traveler I have a little bag with me in which I have plastic gloves, toilet paper and wipes for visits into these type of accommodations.

On the matter of bathroom, another item comes to my mind – toilet paper. Not only in public places is there none but at the ashram as well as in most people’s homes there is none. It is not used. The left hand is used. When it comes to how the cleaning is accomplished with the hand, I do not know the particulars. Since I am ignorant of the practice, at the moment, this Westerner shudders at the thought. I have not found a person I wish to inquire about this matter yet. Next to most toilets is a faucet with an extension that I understand is brought to the body to rinse off the areas one has eliminated from. Okay, I ask, so what do you do with a wet body area? There is nothing to dry it off with. That’s another unknown to me. I’ve seen a lot of wet floors in these rooms. Does some of this water to rinse end up on the floors and if so, am I walking on organisms of feces and urine? (Note: shoes worn outside the home are not worn inside. As regards to wet washroom floors, that would be one good reason not to).

My first roll of toilet paper I bought cost me Rs 50 and it was about half the size of a standard size found in America. This roll was bought at the store here at the ashram so that people living at the ashram and neighboring residents have a place to buy needed items. That’s over $1.00 for a roll of paper! I used that roll sparingly, let me tell you or do I even need to tell you?! My third roll was bought yesterday in the area where I went to the dentist. It was twice if not more the size what the ashram sells and it was only Rs 25, about 50 cents (DOES ANYONE KNOW WHERE THE CENTS SIGN IS ON A KEYBOARD? I AM NOT SEEING IT) I wonder why the ashram provides the small roll and at such a higher price. Another reality that doesn’t make any sense to me.

In that I do not know their plumbing system and that using toilet paper is not a feature here I hesitate to dispose of the paper in the toilet so I place it in a disposable bag and trash it outside where the trash is gathered. Yuck on that practice also but on Friday night I went to a public place and there was indeed a sign that instructed people not to throw paper in the toilet but in the designated receptacle so I guess I made the right decision.

Back to my Himachal Pradesh journey . . . The bus . . . Hari had spoken about an air-conditioned Volvo bus he had heard about traveling in so my expectation was of such a bus. Why, when the 13 hour bus trip only costs Rs 500 (about $12.00 USD) would I continue to think that is . . . because of my ignorant starry-eyed traveler’s wonderment. The bus was a very much used and old bus. AC was provided by opening up a window. Thankfully we began our journey at 5:00 pm and would end it at 6:00 am the next day and the weather wasn’t that hot.

The bus made several stops along the way to allow for new passengers, toilet stops and eating. At the very northern end of New Delhi or just outside it going north is a Tibetan Refugee Settlement. Nearby is a bus stop we stopped at. It is a non developed bus stop. It is pretty much in its natural rural state. Dirt roads, lots of trees and debris lying here and there. It was very packed and we parked there for about 30 minutes. Why the bus stayed in that location for that period of time I do not know. I think most of the people at this stop were Tibetan. I had my first glimpse of people wearing monk robes in droves. Although non developed it does do a lot of commerce here. Vendors have whatever means of a stand they can conjure up and anything thought of that can be sold is being sold. Young boys, I don’t recall any young girls, are even calling out their wares and selling whatever someone will buy from them – sodas, water, bags of snacks, pieces of fruit, little paper bowls of food. The bus stops I’ve been to allow for these vendors to get on the bus, walk down the aisle, calling out what they’re selling and sell what they can while the bus is moving until it gets out of the bus stop premises.

A man, very malformed in a wheelchair, was being wheeled around by a woman. I didn’t look at him enough to know what his physical condition was but it appeared that he had a torso and very small limbs or maybe even not all his limbs. He was calling out to those walking around him, trying to get their attention, asking for money. Everywhere I’ve gone I’ve seen ill kept humans holding out their hands, looking at the other, some just look and make a sound like what sounds a grunt, no human speech is uttered (but then again I do have a hearing problem so I may be wrong about that). I was told that some of these beggar women who are carrying infants might be carrying one that is rented out for just such purposes. Also, that the infants have been drugged to look even more pitiful. I’ve seen children with no shoes, very dirty clothes, hair that hasn’t been combed in who knows how long begging here. I see people living under blue plastic tarps on sidewalks along side roads. People under bridges hanging what little they have wherever they find a place just hanging around, sitting around, children almost bare just hanging nearby. I saw a young boy wearing only a very small pair of shorts on a very busy road going to whatever car he could with its window rolled down making beseeching gestures. He was walking on the roads of Delhi without even shoes on his feet, just this skimpy pair of very little shorts on his body. I saw a man on the bus I was on walking without shoes. He was going on this long trip and he wore no shoes and he had a wife and children with him. Children are even maimed so that their pitiful state will generate pity and more money. I have a desire to make a sentence in my opinion of these sights and practices but I do not know enough of how the universe operates to judge human conditions such as these, even in this. To support this thought a woman I was speaking to yesterday shared with me that she was reading the Bhagavad Gita and it said something along the lines that everyone is where they are supposed to be according to where they are to go next in life and we should not feel sorry or feel a need to alter their conditions. At this moment in my life I find that hard to understand for I have always been taught to help or share with someone who has less than me. I do not have the whole picture on this idea so I will leave it at that for this time for I feel inclined to lean toward what this woman said.

At another stop we went into this little village I think. It was about 3:00 am so I have no idea of whether we were in a town or a little village but in it as I walked to the toilet I saw a structure that held water in it. Above this structure on a wall on one of its sides was a pipe coming out of the wall and water was pouring out of the pipe continuously. I do not know what this is called. I want to call it the village watering well. While in this village, my friend, Hari, who is very into drinking his tea, bought me a tea here. I had no desire to have one before I got here but once I took my first sip . . . ah, it was just what I needed for that time in the morning, a stretch and after sleeping a bit on the bus.

Tea, may I speak about the tea here? When I first got to the ashram and had my first drink of it, I truly enjoyed the taste of it. They make it with milk and I do think some spices. I thought to myself my first week here how much I enjoyed the taste of this tea. It seemed so special to me as I had only had tea without any milk or sugar in it in the past. I even thought of getting the ingredients so that I could make it back home and enjoy it there; now that thought is not even a want. Tea is served for breakfast and at “tiffin” (tea time). Only experiencing the ashram, I truly loved this tea. Now, I am not at all impressed by it. It has lost its taste appeal and I have no yearning for it at all. It is served everywhere. There is probably a tea vendor on every block if not more than one. My dear Hari, when I traveled with him, if it was tea time, I could see he struggled with not being able to sit and have his cup of tea. This morning I had a thermos full of it for the first time in about two weeks as it has gotten so hot here, the thought of drinking something hot has no appeal for me at all. This morning, however, the weather was cool enough to allow my mind to lean toward drinking tea after breakfast as I did my readings. Six hours later and I just poured the last of it into my glass along with my homemade sun tea.

As to the bus ride, I slept a good amount of the time. I sensed that the roads were not that smooth and we did a lot of traveling windy roads. When the bus stopped in Dharamasala to unload its passengers all I could see were the store shop steel doors that they pulled down at night and pulled up in the morning to open and a road so narrow that it could fit the bus and maybe a person on each side and that was it. I think if I had wanted to I could have leaned out the bus window and touched my finger tip to the sides of the stores.

Hari and I had discussed what we would do once we arrived in McLeodganj as it is a holy place. We agreed that we would walk to a place and spend some time meditating. Did we? When we arrived at the Bhagsu Hotel about 6:00 am, Hari said he would go to his room, freshen up and meet me for breakfast at 9:00 am outside at the tables. Not a word about our decision to walk somewhere and meditate. I went up to my room, got myself together and went outside and began walking around. As I walked away from the hotel I ascended down into the town itself. I think the hotel was at the top of the hill where if you went any further you would be going down the ravine, not to any more dwellings. It was early morning and I had not seen the town coming to the hotel. I felt as if I was walking into a surreal little town. I saw these little narrow streets, so narrow it didn’t appear a car and a person could both get through, both going in different directions. I saw so many people dressed in saffron-colored monks robes and people dressed in more tribal like clothing. The women’s hair was done differently also. To add to my whimsical perception a little boy was right there in front of me at the entrance to the town, wearing some tribal clothing and just being cute as little children are, jabbering and playing about. The architect, the wares, the windy roads, the hills, the up and down walkways , the mountains in the background, the snow capped mountains, the blue skies, all so different from what I’d seen so far in India. My first impression was that I had found a cute little village nearby the hotel I was staying at, not realizing it was McLeodganj itself. Everything about it just seemed so surreal to me upon my first impression I felt as if I had discovered some sweet, days gone by little village.

Monday,our first day in Dalai Lama’s town was spent having breakfast at the hotel which I believe Hari truly enjoys doing. The food choices were not exciting nor numerous for me. I was able to have my first cup of black coffee here however so that was a treat for me. After breakfast we went walking all over the village, bought a souvenir or two and went to the temple. At “tea time” (about five, dinner is at around 8:00 pm which is too late for me to eat and shortly thereafter go to sleep so we didn’t eat dinner together during our trip) Hari made it a point to find a place where he could have his cup of tea. It was at a coffee house up the road from the temple so I was to have another cup of coffee which I was elated to do. There are quite a number of coffee houses in this little town. I saw a few of them that also had wifi of which I had no time to take advantage of but knowing the little access I have to internet I have had and my inability to put my pictures on line, I wish that I had taken the time. (I’ve been trying to find a wifi place here in Delhi, have asked around, but so far, no luck) I think it’s available because of all the tourists that come to it who do like coffee and have shown their need for internet access. We had our lunch at a place called “Peace Cafe.” I chose this because I’m into peace and also because in Lonely Planet India book it said that one will find monks here enjoying a vegetarian meal and discussing amongst each other. The food and ambiance were very nice there but there were no monks around, in fact, there were only what looked like foreigner’s eating there. During the day we discovered that walking around and outside the town is an activity many enjoy so we decided that we would do so our second day. I spoke to the hotel staff and was able to get a map of the town and trails.

On Tuesday, at 7:00 am Hari and I met to begin our walk. What a walk. We began at 7:00 am and didn’t get back to the hotel until evening, both at different times as our evening plans were different. It was a wonderful, beautiful, spiritual, communal day of walking and not because we were with each other as we are not friends such as this but because of what we saw, spoke of to others, and experienced. Our first destination was Bhagsu Village. A temple and a waterfall was there for us to see. This temple is part of a temple circuit that Hari took note of, writing down all of the temples on the circuit. Hari has said that his travels take him on many spiritual journeys and this circuit would be along his interests. The temple is not a very big one. On the temple grounds is a large rectangular pool that is supposed to be used to clean oneself for some temple purposes. Away from the temple, up in the mountain next to the end of the village, is the waterfall. We could have walked to the waterfall if we were so inclined but it was not an easy walk for me and I discerned that Hari had no desire to walk to it. From where we stood up to the waterfall at the beginning of the trail it looked like the distance could have been about two miles, if not more. Seeing it from where we stood was enough for us both.

Nearby us were some men working on a restaurant structure. This structure seemed to be almost at the edge of an almost 90 degree incline of a mountain side. Everywhere in this area, I believe in all of Himachal Pradesh, I don’t think there is a 10 x 10 foot area of flat land. Incline, Incline, Incline, everywhere. Incline up. Decline down. Up a hill. Down a hill. Maybe a step or several without an up or a down but hardly found anywhere. And it seems like most structures are built with brick, rocks and marble. Such heavy stuff ! I know nothing about architecture and the advantages to using such heavy stuff when making a structure but I think about all that weight ! on the land the structure will rest upon for the life of that building , on the floor / floors below for that matter, the people hauling it, the animals hauling it. I saw men putting large boulders on the backs of mules and carrying each one to its new location. I saw mules laden with bricks loaded onto racks laying on top of their backs walking to their new location. To me the engineering feat to lay these heavy materials and on land that has very little flatness to it seems a marvel. I, of course, feel such sorrow for these beasts of burden. To have on your back such loads! Don’t forget they too have to walk up those inclines or down with that heavy burden causing them even more strain or momentum going downhill!

After an enjoyable breakfast and a good one at a little restaurant on a rooftop with a very narrow rickety very small steps staircase we continued our walk to our planned (or should I say hoped) for destination “Golu Temple.” From Bhagsu Village one could see it on top of the mountain off in the distance. As we walked Hari kept asking people passing us the way to Golu Temple . . . to be sure we were on the right path and to be friendly, he said. I found these conversations quite funny as one of the questions or pieces of conversation that kept coming up out of Hari’s mouth with each passerby was how long the passerby thought it would take for us to get to the temple. They would look me up and down before they made their guess. One of our first passerbys was a very optimistic European woman who had been in the area for a while and came up to us and asked us it we needed any help as she saw we were looking around to decide where we should go at the moment. She was quite fit and said she had been up to the temple. She said it would take us about 45 minutes. HA HA HA !!!!!!!!!!!!!! I did say she was Q U I T E fit. Well, this walk was mostly constantly at about a 45 degree incline, either up a flat road or on rocky pathways. Walking up inclines gets me short of breath in no time. Hari was quite encouraging as he said to me “just take your time, walk a few steps, we’ll get there when we get there.” With his encouragement I think I went further than if he hadn’t said anything. Even as we walked higher up the hill we came across homes, live stock, farm land, water pumps. As we walked up and up and up dwellings dotted the landscape with people walking about doing their everyday life. I looked around and could see no stores nearby and wondered where they got their food, water, supplies, etc. It appeared that what they needed they pretty much made on the land, others nearby made what they needed but this is conjecture on my part. I am sure they looked at me and had quite a smile for the sight I gave their eyes. Here they walk up and down these inclines without a thought and they see me walk for 10 minutes and stop!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! laboriously breathing, sweating as if a shower was over my head at that very moment.

Hari and I didn’t make it to Golu Temple. You thought after all that I actually might have? No! We got to this last stop before the temple and saw this road, a road leading back into town. I also learned that at the temple there was no vehicle to take you back down; you had to walk down that incline. I said to myself . . . I’ve done enough trying to get to this temple. Here is a nice road to walk upon and it will take me down to Dharamkot, where I wanted to go to next once I went up to the temple. That temple, mind you, was still way up there from this last stop. It was getting noon and it was hot. SOB, heat, sweat, altitude, physical considerations — possible heart attack what with my blood pressure, chest pains . . . I don’t think so. For an out of shape, fluffy (new term Hari had given me after knowing me for a few days) 53-year-old woman I had done a good deal of exercise that I could be proud of. Enough! Time to congratulate myself for how far I had walked and go on to another plan of activity. And guess what?! I found out after I had quit that Hari didn’t like walking up hills either; it wasn’t something he took any interest in, he was doing it because it was what we had decided to do.

Walking back was fun as it was downhill, very beautiful as it seemed to be a forest in much of the area we walked through. We would stop and talk to passersby as we went, finding out where they were from and any other thing that would come up. I collected two more names to my email/Facebook collection on the walk.

In Dharamkot we saw the Vipassana Center and we were fortunate to go into the Buddhist Tushita Retreat Center. Hari wanted to go to Tushita to see if the son of one of his friends, who is a monk, was there as he thought he might live there. We were very blessed at the Tushita Center. Not only was the son, Kabir, there but we were able to enjoy a cup of tea, some chocolate, be shown around and learn about the activities there. There is a great amount of blessed energy there. We both felt so refreshed after visiting there and I left with the feeling that I might be back for an Intro to Buddhism Course as well as a Mind Meditation Course.

Just before we got into McLeodganj there is a bench along the trail which we sat down upon. Our time upon this bench and how we enjoyed ourselves was in a way quite funny. We just sat there, smiling gleefully, probably exhausted as well as exhilarated after our arduous walk in hopes of reaching the temple, our time at Tushita and our conversations. We sat there for a half hour if not more. We met another traveler, this one a man from Alabama. I was able to spot off immediately that he was from America, where I didn’t know but that he was an American. In town we stopped at a pub and had a couple of beers. After I looked for a place that had an activist event going on about freeing Tibet from Chinese rule. I couldn’t find it so walked around a bit more then went back to the hotel and ate the, I think, five chocolate bars I got at Tushita for dinner. (wonder how I got to be the weight I am, hu?)

The third day in McLeodganj I woke up early planning to go to the Buddhist Temple to hear the Dalai Lama speak. He was to begin about 8:00 am. Hari had no desire to see / hear him as he had done so in the past. I walked down there and got into the temple and was told by security that because I had my cell phone which wasn’t able to work as it was one I had from home that I couldn’t gain access. I needed to leave my cell with one of the store vendors or do whatever I wanted to do with it. I was also told that he may not start speaking until 8:30 / 9:00 am and 9 am was the time I had agreed to meet Hari for breakfast before we left for lower Dharamasala. So instead of seeing and hearing the Dalai Lama speak personally I decided just to hang outside the temple entrance and see what people and activities were happening for the event. Outside I ordered for the first time a cup of tea and a biscuit while I hung around. An unusual situation for me was going on just outside the temple entrance as a big humongous horned bull had also decided to hang around. He was so big. Here in India people consider this animal sacred so no disrespect or harm can come to it by a human. His size was so big that from front to back he pretty much took up the width of the road. Here you have hundreds of people and vehicles trying to get around and as you please, this bull is just standing there looking around , sniffing this, going over to the trash bin and rummaging thru it. I stood around and just checked things out in this area for about an hour and then had to go back up to the hotel to meet up with Hari.

After breakfast Hari and I walked into the center of town to look for chocolates to give to the hotel staff to say thank you for their extra help here and there. Got back to hotel around noon and left for lower Dharamasala by taxi.

We didn’t travel far, about 20 minutes away, to the Hotel Kashmir Mr. Sharma was very amiable, asked us for tea and joined us. We had a lovely time having tea with him on the front lawns of the hotel learning about its history as well as the town and where to go while we were there. He even invited us to his home for breakfast the next day. Hari said it was because I was a foreigner; if he had been by himself, the invitation would not have come. Our rooms at the hotel were on the second floor. To get to them you had to walk up the staircase on the outside of the building. Here again, steep and narrow and the hand rail was low so you had to stoop to use it if you wanted / needed to.

In this area the same terrain, shops, etc. Hari had us go to the bus stop so that we could get our tickets to Chandigarh. This bus area was nice and clean compared to ISBT in New Delhi. Its one ticket counter had a old gentleman that spoke English. We stopped at a shawl emporium and I purchased three shawls and a turquoise silver ring. We ate lunch at a restaurant and pub and I had for the first time a dish called tandoori bread Korma. I loved the taste of it. It was the best meal I had had so far in India.

For dinner that evening it had been arranged that we would have a traditional Himachal meal cooked by the hotel staff to be served at 8:00 pm Hari felt comfortable wearing his sweat shirt and sweat pants. He said in England he is persuaded to dress in these. Sweat clothes to a dinner served in a hotel seemed unusual for me but interesting to learn it was usual for others. The dinner we had was marvelous. There were three dishes and I think they were all cooked in curd. To top it all we were given a chutney that was made from a local flower in season at the time. It had a marvelous taste, I felt as if I were eating in the level of caviar. After dinner Hari and I sat talking in his room, having some drinks. I went to bed about 10:30 pm that night.

The next morning we were escorted to Mr. Sharma’s house for breakfast. Off the main road from the market we went, down an even narrower windy road to finally up two flights of stairs to his house. Momma Mia! How does anyone get furniture into their homes, having to go thru such a labyrinth! The first floor he rents out. The second floor he and his family reside in. The rooftop you can walk upon and one day he thinks he will build a third floor. From the rooftop as well as from the windows in his living room you can look out over all of the valley and up into the mountains going to China. Everywhere you look , mountains, inclines, closely packed homes, steps, little windy pathways, multistory homes. But beautiful. He has been living in the area 25 years and just two years ago he finished building his house. It is a very nice home with a very nice washroom (no bathtub, though) and four bedrooms. All along the second story is a balcony, only wide enough to be a walkway though. His wife made food to die for. So delicious and so delicate! Now that was the best meal I have ever had in India, even to this date as I write this! Puri , chick peas, mixed vegetables and some other kind of chutney. It appears to be the custom for the women who cook the meal to not sit while the others eat but to be in the kitchen ensuring the guests get the items they need while eating. If I were to go to Tushita for those courses, he said I could stay at his home when I wanted. “My home is your home” he told me. His wife would be amiable to allow me to cook with her so that I could learn how to cook her delectable Indian style of dishes!

After breakfast Hari and I walked down to a Sai Baba Temple. There was a section of the walk where the steps had broken leaving some big gaping holes to get across and it was a bit precarious walking. The people in these areas must have the best cardiovascular systems in the world with all this hill walking that they do. Whew! As we walked we came upon a man taking sugar canes and putting it thru a grind producing cane juice. Well, I had never had that before so I got myself a glass of that juice and drank it all gone. It was very pleasant to drink and all pure sugar, Hari said. No negative reactions on my part, only a big wide smile of contentment. We found a bus that would take us to the bus station as we decided to change our departure time for Chandigarh to an earlier one. Got another bus to take us out of town to a rock temple up in some other mountainous area. It was so beautiful there. The mountains were covered with what I learned on our way back tea plants maintained meticulously. At the temple there was a young boy who just hung around us, didn’t say anything, just hung nearby us, a bit unsettling to me. When we left the temple, we walked back the way we had come and the boy followed us acting as if he too had to go the same way. You could tell though that he was just intent on being around us. Hari started a conversation with him and the boy gave him some story and asked for money for the bus ride back to his family. Hari was quick in his reply and said we’re walking not asking for money so the boy can do the same. Again we did a lot of walking that day, lots of inclines that we both are not inclined (hee hee hee) to walk, hot so it was an exhausting but enjoyable day. We even got to use the internet. Good for me but not good for Hari as he got some news that caused him to need to go home earlier than we had planned.

Walking on the main road back to our hotel we went off to some of the side roads. On one we came to a shop called Bhuttico. This is a name mentioned in Lonely Planet. There is an area in Himachal Pradesh that is well known for the quality of the shawls made by the women there. It is in the Kullu Valley. They formed a cooperative in order to ensure that they get fair labor and value for their work. This store sells their work. I wish that I had seen it before I bought the shawls at the other government emporium store as I had wanted to have the opportunity to see the Bhuttico work and perhaps purchase that. At another side road we came to an area where they had established a park. On it had been built a miniature train track and a miniature train was on it. It was really impressive, almost on the side of the mountain. Another area where I marvel at the ability of such an attraction.

On Friday, up early to get taxi at 6:00 am to take us to bus station to get bus for Chandigarh at 7:00 am. Now, this bus, as far as its amenities, naw, I would say that this bus had none. If you had anything to carry that would not fit on rack above your head nor under your seat your choice would be for you, yourself, to haul it on top of the bus and find a way to tie it down. My carry on was wide and full but to have it put on top, tie it down and then have to figure out getting it down once we got to destination, too much to deal with. There are men there who hang around and earn what they can helping passengers take care of their possessions. I didn’t need one actually but Hari decided to have the one pestering us take my carry on and fit it amongst our seat somehow. I could have done it myself had I known the logistics. So this stupid carry on of mine ends up on the floor where we both keep our feet. I’m sitting next to the window so as far as my legs being able to lay without being cramped side to side, no way. And my student backpack, not knowing it could fit on rack above me is on my lap. A trip on a bus, sitting like this, with this on my lap, bumpy road, stopping who knows where to pick up whomever might be at some undesignated place known only to the driver as a pick up place. . . what a ride. This indeed was an everyday person’s every day bus. It was an eight-hour bus trip on top of that!

On the way we had a rest stop to get a bite to eat or whatever. Hari and I had some tea (but of course). As we were sitting I asked Hari if there was a place I could get some drinking water. He told me that the only water they have here is out of the tap, not for drinking. In the places I had been before, all of them, they had a water filtering machine you could get drinking water from. After drinking my tea, I got up to walk around, to see what was around before the bus took off again and to walk out my poor cramped legs. Inside I saw tables with pitchers on them. I held out my thermos and gestured “drinking water?” The staff responded affirmatively. When I met up with Hari to get on the bus I told him I had gotten water and he shook his head at my lack of knowledge and disdain for my not listening to his instructions about the water and told me the water may be drinkable for them but not for us. As we drove off, I gave the water in my thermos back to the Indian soil. To drive on without water . . . a lesson well learned . . . the water either must be bottled or I see it come out of a filtering machine.

In Chandigarh the bus dropped us off across the street from the bus stop; a very big busy bus stop. I found it very disturbing for the bus driver not to take us into the bus stop and allow us to get off the bus within the bus stop grounds. Since they didn’t pick up passengers there, they didn’t see a need to go into the stop for those getting off at that stop. Only after going into the stop and asking around, thinking that our hotel was there as well as the train ticket counter do we find that there are two bus stops in town; one for local destinations and the other for long trips. Hari didn’t look at our hotel reservations to know that we had gotten dropped off at the wrong station.

After a little rest, a soda, on the bus again to the right station. On the way to Chandigarh Hari had decided to cut the trip short so we needed to cancel the hotel for the night as well as train trip back to Delhi the next day. We did this at the correct bus station. Hari was kind enough to want to allow me to see some of Chandigarh before we went back to Delhi so he decided we’d take a bus late in the evening.

Chandigarh is a very unusual city in India as it is laid out like an American city. Rectangular blocks, very nice straight roads. It is a must see in India because of its uniqueness in its design. One of the sights I saw here was a man right out in public view off from a walkway, squatting and having a bowel movement and wiping himself. Up to this time I had seen quite a number of men off to the side of a walkway away from the road urinating, even saw a woman squatting with her backside bare alongside a highway but this was the first time I saw someone defecating.

While we were attending to business at the station this bicycle rickshaw driver hung around Hari and answered his questions and had a bit of a conversation with him. Before we went back to Delhi, Hari thought we could go to the lake and to the Rock Garden but what to do with our luggage? Okay, there was a storage facility we could leave it at but we had to buy a lock for each piece. Well , this rickshaw driver pleaded with Hari to let him take us to these places along with our luggage for the same price that we would have paid for locks. The driver has to make a living even though the idea of someone lugging me while peddling a bicycle and our luggage seemed extremely inhumane to me so off we go on my first ever bicycle rickshaw drive. The driver was a very slender man. Where we went was a bit of an incline. I wanted to give him twice the amount of money he asked for but Hari was adamant and said no I couldn’t do that. I wanted to give him all of the snacks I had left with me but Hari said I couldn’t do that. We conversed about it. Hari even got mad at me for not respecting his country, its ways, its system whatever, because I wanted to do more that he thought was appropriate. To show respect for Hari’s opinion and sense of what he felt was appropriate I did as he asked and gave only the amount of money and snacks Hari said I could. After giving the snacks to the driver, he put them on the seat I was sitting at and I said to him “no, these are for you” Hari said to me “why do you have to be so mean?” I have no idea what he meant by that but I was fed up with him for our disagreement about what I could give the driver so I said to Hari “Oh, shut up.” and walked away to the Rock Garden as he had already seen it and would sit in the rickshaw while I saw it.

We ended our day eating a very nice dinner at a nice restaurant by the man-made lake and drinking our beer. During the meal Hari had a moment of remembering a piece of his childhood that he shared with me. I think the time period was in the late forties. This was the time when Pakistan was still part of India. His family lived in what is now Pakistan. Because of the conflict his family was forced to flee their homeland. He said his parents, himself and two other siblings had to flee and were able to get refuge in Delhi (I’m so hoping I remember that correctly) from someone that they knew who let his family stay with them until they could get on their feet. His father left shortly after seeing to it that his wife and children were okay. His father was gone, no one knew if he was safe, alive or dead, for three months until he returned back to them. Hari said his mother only had a few dollars during that time and how she managed to take care of herself and three children as he didn’t think anyone else was providing for them was a miracle to him. As Hari spoke I could see the emotion and anguish that time and experience had affected him. I have never known anyone who had to leave their home because they were forced to. To be in the company of someone who has humbles me greatly. I believe Hari’s sharing of that with me is something I will always remember. It will remind me of how precious what I’ve been given and have not had taken from me is. It is not for me to grumble and complain about the home that I do have if I get in the mind to compare it to others. I have often known how blessed I am to be able to live in a house that has been in my family for sixty years; this experience makes me know I am indeed greatly blessed. Our rickshaw driver took us back to the bus stop and we did some people watching for a while until we got our bus back to Delhi.

Saturday, at 4:30 am we got dropped off at a non designated (another one of those but this one much to our advantage as it was very close to Hari’s apartment) bus stop and before us was a totally unexpected auto waiting for passengers. Hari said that an auto at that time in the morning was a miracle. After resting awhile and having a nice breakfast I said goodbye to Hari and went back to the ashram.

The last I heard from Hari was that day. He had told me he was making plans to travel to another country for some non violence workshops, that he would be scarce from March to June. I have emailed him and have not heard from him.

At the ashram I wondered if I would get a room as I had indicated that I would return on Sunday, the next day. The first response was there was no room available but after a while the info was changed to a room was available. Thank God! I had been on the go for over three days without a shower and sleep the night before was on a bus so I was very relieved indeed that I was to get a room so that I could relax, take a shower, do whatever I wanted without needing to adjust to being in a dormitory setting.

Perhaps I have left some things out regarding my trip to Himachal Pradesh but since this is eleven pages long as it is, I believe, and I’m sure you will agree, I have written enough.