Varanasi Picutures, before the near death.

Pictures from my Krishnamurthi - Varanasi getaway

....and then Varanasi happened...

Part II

All i can say is thank God for the first half of my Varanasi getaway. At 7 am we arrived, collected our sleepy smelly selves and piled into a van waiting to take us to our lodging. We passed the business, the smog, the rickshaws, the dust blown up from the traffic...and drove up up up...to a small community a bit away for all the craziness. We turned into a gated compound with red dirt driveways and walkways. There were little homes with rooms, equipped with patio furniture, hanging potted plants, and people floating about in white long cotton kurtas -- their hands clasped behind them as they walked about in contemplation. Apparently I had come across the LOST Dharma Initiative of India--or at least that's what i thought it was, until I was informed this was a retreat for Krishnamurti followers. Followers of J. Krishnamurti believe Truth is a 'pathless land' that cannot be attained through any type of organization, creed, religion, etc; but instead through the intense study and observation of the self, through 'introspective dissection' as they say. The Krishnamurti foundation heads up a lot in the community, as well as run schools, hospitals, heads up community services -- all followers of Krishnamurti and his teachings. The retreat in particular is a place for anyone (travelers, locals, whoever) to come and study his teachings. Students from the school and from the retreat can study in silence, at their own pace, with no outside distractions. Its enveloped by a lushness of plants and energy, a place where dogs run up happy to see you (a rarity), and a sound of clean quiet i was in desperate need for. Birds chirped, there were butterflies, it was as good as an ashram as far as i was concerned.

Being a foreigner i was lucky to be able to stay at such an establishment, since normally one must be a student of Krishnamurthi's teachings to do so. Since the school we came to visit is run by the foundation, the plan was to stay at the retreat, and walk to the school located in another part of the community. It was a nice peaceful walk, a good 15 minutes down the road, over the bridge next to the boats, turn right at the bicycle fixing shack, up the hill, through the trees and fields of crops, passed the dairy farm. and you're there. It was nice to walk in a rural setting, the serene Ganges in the background. Somehow this location felt less dirty, there was less staring, more oxygen --well i don't know if that is true--but it sure as hell felt that way. It was as though for the first time in a month, i had absolute quiet and peace. I could finally hear my thoughts.

It's interesting, before I left home, people would ask me how I was preparing myself for this trip--if i was doing this or that-- and the truth was, i really didn't intend to prepare myself in any particular way. I mean, I did listen to hindi language discs (complete waste of time of course) for a good couple months, got the appropriate immunizations, brought my favorite toothpaste, but i actually tried not to form too many preconceived ideas of "what India will be like" and what i expected to get from it. I felt i did that a lot with Spain, and in a way it was a downfall for me. I wanted to just arrive, and accept my experiences for what they were, not how it didn't meet some preconcieved expectation. A couple of friends had talked to me about their time India and it pretty much boiled down to 'elizabeth, you are going to have an amazing time, india is an incredible place...." followed by a laugh and/or slight slow nod of the head from side to side as they stared off into space. As in, you aren't going to believe it until you do it, so its better to just do.

And you know what? So far I'm doing pretty well. I didn't get deathly sick off the bat, the food doesn't give me stomach problems, the dirt is manageable, somehow your body allows 112 degrees to be an acceptable temperature to live in, Anna hasn't figured out what a complete moron I am, I can get around knowing about 12 actual hindi words, 3 facial expressions and 2 hand gestures, and the really good news -- people don't flat out hate me. i am actually loving all of it. its perfection its its own right.

However, there is always that one thing you didn't think of, that one thing that wasn't supposed to be such a big deal, but somehow turns out to be THE big deal. THE thing that slams you upside the head and shines the light on those personality traits you thought were a little more buried. Well, you will be glad to know I figured one of those things out: THE NOISE (its actually more of a 'sensory overload', but for our purposes here we will define it as 'noise'). For me the noise in Lucknow is so altering, so inescapable, so difficult to deal with. me cuesta muchisimo. Mainly because it just isn't a couple noises, it is a whole symphony of sound at all hours of the day: cars, waste, trains, sirens, gov. propaganda announcements, trucks, people, cows, bicycles, trash, hindu temples, poop, brass bands....i think i already blogged about this. Mix constant background music with more or less 3 million people...all trying just be in the same city....i get a little clammy. So the escape to Krishmamurtiji's retreat......was......such......a...lovely beginning to a sweet remembrance.

So blown over by my newly found serenity, I woke up at 5:45am each morning just to sit along the wall, beneath the plush trees, and gaze out at the Ganges river with my new found family of dogs. I wrote in my journal, prayed, and sat in silence. It was the type of quiet, that if given a physical form, would have the consistency of slow churned vanilla bean ice cream...and i sat there inhaling spoonful after spoonful. A thick dense silence, charged with energy. Snack time was silence's best present, the clinking of spoons and coffee cups, the pouring of chai, slurping up my watermelon wedge. i could even hear the peeling of a banana if i paid close enough attention. Didn't want to take it for granted, it was far too precious.

Everything was so deliciously simple, right down to our beds. A white sheet and thin blanket, a clean bathroom, a floor cushion to use while those around you discussed inner and outer nature- truth- life-death, even the ants marched single file on their tippy toes. No cellphones, no Internet, no technology of any kind. You washed your own plates after each meal with diluted soap (got em even cleaner if you ask me), and I listened as guests sat around contemplating life's questions. A teacher, a doctor, a retired geologist, a mother, someone from england, a son...all just searching (and finding) answers--and very and content with their findings. no one seemed lost, they were satisfied with enough...which was nice to see for a change.


It was also nice to visit with these guys each day:)

...and then Varanasi happened...

Part I

About a month ago, a work trip to Varanasi was planned. A middle school there is interested in possibly using the DSH program and content within its school and surrounding hospital. Just Urvashi (one of my bosses), Anna, and Richa (co-worker) were originally going during the week. However, Athena and I tagged along so that we could not only see the process of visiting the school, talking with principals, etc; but Anna, Athena, and I could stay the weekend in the city...and wear tank tops (gasp), not have a curfew (double gasp), get out of Lucknow, and be ALONE for the first time since our arrival to india. PRAISE GOD! HALLELUJAH!

I would take this opportunity to mention a little bit about my boss Urvashi. However, to simply begin it so paselike would be a complete disservice to her essence. Lady's gonna need her own seperate post (which i probably won't ever have the chuztspa and grey matter to write). I fear she would read it one day and i would die of embarrassment. I will stop here and simply say that my boss Urvashi would be one of those Barbara Walters 10 Most Intriguing People, but not because of what they do (which is important too), but who they are. She is quick, forcefull, smart, gorgeous, eloquent, funny, amazingly flawed, smells like sweet heaven, and wears the most gorgeous saris i have ever seen in my life - and probably will ever see on a live human being. I always believed indian queens and royalty would behave in this manner, until she told me a story about her friend the Princess (like a real one). Urvashi is a force, you have to take in all of it to fully experience it.

I was excited to be going out of town, simply because it was just that -- out of town. Lucknow is lovely, but it has its moments of 'dear god why'...just like anywhere does. I packed up shtuf for my 5 day trip in my small backpack, made sure i brought a roll of toilet paper ( i don't care if indians don't use toilet paper....its like my security blanket at the moment), and made sure i had enough money to buy all the bangles needed to tide me over until my next trip. pure joy.

Our train departure was for 11:30pm. We arrived at the station met by pure and utter mayhem of course. Please note that this doesn't mean mayhem as in someone screamed 'fire' and everyone ran....but mayhem as in indian mayhem. Meaning, it sounds and looks like people are out of their minds, but no -- secretly everyone is on the same page. no need to fear (my father's voice in my head wants me to put the word 'yet' after that sentence). i focused on the lonely enormous cow roaming about the inside of the station, wondering 'how the hell did this dinosaur animal just saunter on into the building?'. i watched the coolies carrying luggage on their heads and contemplated if they are more or less prone to back, neck, and/or spinal chord injury. I took a good glance at the Nepali traveler with his white straw fedora placed on top of his black guitar case. both sexily posed leaning against the table as he wrote in his journal and ate. chicken was his dinner, and that gentleman ate him some it as if he had really been itchin fer some chicken for sometime. Next time i eat chicken, im doin it like that. He was a tall, gangly, polite, scruffy young man, very attractive. I could envision him finishing his dinner, laying down with his bag and guitar next to a wall full of paan stain -- smoking a cigarette with his fedora over his eyes for privacy. Good end to an eventful day. As we walked to our platform all the mayhem around had finished preparing for sleeping. Sheets were laid out on the floor, bags, children, and dinner surrounding them. they would catch their trains in the morning.

If you come to india you must ride a train -- and a multitude of other things of course -- but firstly you must ride a train, and night trains are they way to do it. Varanasi is 7 hours away by train ride, so you get on, sleep, and you are there. done. Its not only ideal timewise, but at night i think the station has a certain appeal versus during the day. Everything has settled, it is less hot, less busy (well i don't really know about that), and all the fun animals come out to play:) Anna has always told me stories about train station rats . I have heard others during my time here, saying they are disgusting, and huge, and vicious, and there's a whole hell of a lot of them.

Well, Anna is terrified of rats, but im not. So I was very thrilled to find me some rats...and YES, they were there in HUGE numbers. I should first say that i have been informed the Lucknow train station really isn't an accurate representation of how big and how plentiful these suckers can get, but this experience was enough for me to get the picture. I am a believer. Basically, if you fix your eyes onto the tracks, and don't necessarily look for anything in particular, just wait there --you will see the ground start to move. And then you will see the rats. EVERYWHERE. Everywhere, meaning not just everywhere on the tracks, but they are on the platform with you too. There are big ones and small ones and fat ones....all eating on the human waste and garbage which sustains them (just LOVELY aint' it?). Enough.

Finally the train arrived. We fought our way through the lines, through the distinct smells (I swear i counted at least 7), and into our sleeper car. It was Anna and Athena on the two top beds, myself and Urvashi on the two bottom ones. For some privacy, the curtains to our little nook were drawn, the man came to distribute the bedding...and we were set. As the train got on its way i laid there with the curtain to the window cracked, watching shadows pass me by under moonlight. The men snoring around us added a soundtrack to the whipping black and grey brown images of cows and hay stacks, people, trees, temples...and then just open field. this was my first time on a train ever...i just laughed to myself. Oh india....oh boy.

a night out with the agnostic, hindu, muslim, and bahai.

Here are some pictures from the Sindhi New Year celebration here in Lucknow, i went with some friends (see 3rd pic L-R: Athena, Natasha, Zehra, Anna). 

12 > 10.

my bath happens in a bucket. thats how we do it here. so shaving my legs is not really...how do you say...not really high on the priority list.  But that doesn't even matter because people here do NOT shave their legs--they wax:) oh boy oh boy....please read on if you want. 

Yes, they wax. Basically you can wax anything you want (except your eyebrows, they thread the eyebrows). Like, if i wanted to get my whole body waxed (arms, back, legs, feet, stomach, wherever)...i could do that. if you wanted to do that when you came to india to visit me--i would know where to take you. i could help you out with that. we could go together...i digress....

So, i needed to get waxed. In the US i do the eyebrow/stash/chin wax all the time. Body hair gives you personality, and i have a really big personality. I haven't ever waxed my legs though,  since in the US it is really costly (60 -70$?).  i don't really know since i don't do it. Here however is a different story, its so cheap--well everything here is cheap compared to Seattle--but paying 4$ for a 2-3 week break from shaving my legs sounds like an excellent idea, and excellent break from the norm. God bless india. 

So, that should be good to go right? Its economical...great idea...everyone does it...they know what they are doing...But OH how i am such a coward in life. 

Everyone has a perception of themselves which is somewhat off. For example, I feel i am an adventurous person (as my friends laugh in my face)....when the truth is....i so do not like change. Now, i love the stories and experience and amazingness that all comes from being adventurous or seeking changes or whatever you want to call it, but if i was left to myself i would watch re-runs of Friends and eat the same salad with feta strawberries and balsamic vinegarette (omg) every night for the rest of my life. Im a homebody. i love my couch, i love routine. I am 1st and foremost an observer. In a new environment i don't talk, i don't make any decisions, i don't act, i don't think or do or anything --just watch.  And when i have watched enough and have warmed up to the situation I'll start doing. One morning  i found my legs had gotten so hairy i caught myself wondering what man had crept into my bed in the middle of the night.  I knew i had watched enough, so anna took me to the salon. They have wax, i have hair. Done.

The salon is called Panache -- nice place. I was greeted by 5 men standing around at the font desk, typical. Anna explained to them i only wanted a 1/2 leg done, so they would wax right above my knees. A full leg wax we thought was a little too traumatic for my 1st time:) that will be another blog im sure.

A woman appeared from behind the corner and i was taken into a room with three padded tables with sheets hanging in between them for privacy. I changed into the 'special pants' and laid down--the wrong direction at fist (doing things the wrong way is the way i do things here apparently)--but then i worked it all out and we were good to go. She put some baby power on my legs to dry them off, mixed the wax, and applied it -- slapped the strip on top and gave it a couple rubs. At this point, I felt something was a little off....not wrong...but different. I glanced down at her, didn't notice anything in particular, and looked back up at the ceiling.  She knew what she was doing, this is what she does -- i thought to myself. She is this petite little young indian woman, all business. Sit here. Do this. Straighten your leg and foot like that. She doesn't pull any punches. 

I have always been supremely self conscious of the largeness of my feet and calves. Mom says that my feet and hands are big because i was supposed to grow into them as a got taller, but was so traumatized growing up (go figure) --my growth was stunted and i was stuck with monkey appendages within a 5' 5" frame. I fit into a size 10 shoe when i was 10 years old and when i was 18 an african friend told that if we were abandoned on a desert island together, he would eat my calves because they were so 'big and juicy'. we aren't really friends anymore.  india -- the land of perfectly small beautiful women--welcomes elizabeth the silverback. Anyway, the sight of this woman wielding my huge calves and feet in her small childlike hands gave me visions of a lost boy at Peter Pan's feast eating a giant turkey leg -- or an indian Little Cindy Lou Who was attempting to wax the Sasquatch. .......there i said it. But apparently it didn't matter to her, she had seen it all. I needed to get over myself....back to the waxing.

RRRRRRIIP! HOLY wow. that hurt. That REALLLY hurt. RRRRRRRRIIP! I began breathing, pacing myself...i took a deep breath...and blew out as she was ripping it off. RIIIIIIIIIP!  DAMN it hurt. I was totally sold on natural childbirth until i got my legs waxed for the 1st time. The back of my legs hurt MUCH more than the fronts.....toward the end I was 'OH!' 'HOLY !$%*ing' all over the place, and then apologizing "theek (teekay), sab theek" (OK, its okay) -- thats all i could tell her. that i wasn't dying. She worked very quickly, did a great job. It seemed she was equipped with super hands, super small, but super all the same.

Again, I peered down the side of the table to watch her work and identify that strange feeling??????? What could it be? 

I counted her fingers....1, 2, 3, 4, 

I counted them again.....7, 8, 9...and delighted in my discovery...

Not 10, but 12 was my final answer :) Homegirl had 2 extra pinkies, one for each hand. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. suddenly my throbbing legs weren't a problem anymore. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SO exciting:) I am so lucky. ONLY in india #374.

Here are some pictures from my legs traumatized after the waxing....they were totally fine the next day...no te preocupes.

what i get to see.

These are just some of the new pics i have been taking. The first shows how i have conquered india. i hope you realize this....