The story of stuff

My stuff that is... specifically my camera that I like to call "a piece of shit, old camera." Well, the point is, it's been totally redeemed.
The Story:
Stumbling down the mountain, my knees were hurting from having to step from one rock to another. Descending is so much worse than going up, the trails are practically boulder fields. My camera was strapped to the outside of my day pack so I could access it easily. It had a moment of rebellion that sent it leaping from the back of my pack down a ravine. Not just any ravine mind you. A ravine that literally went for over a mile, finally ending at the river far below. The slope was covered in slick dry grass, growing horizontally from the slope. As my camera fell I implored it to resist gravity and return to my hand. "Stop, please stop," i yelled as I watched the blue case tumble down the mountain until it was lost from view. The first thing that came into my mind was the monk who had asked me to send him the pictures of us from the hike we took four days before. Well, there was nothing for me to do except to go after it. I almost followed it, tumbling that is. As I clung to alpine bunch grass, jumping from a tiny outcrop to another. As I began to descend I saw a raven land on a log 100 yards down the ridge. In that moment I thought to myself that maybe the raven saw the camera fall and was curious to see what it was. I decided i was going to go that far. but no further, each leap down meant dragging my body up another five feet so I was cautious about going too far. Well guess what, there was my camera, right below where the raven had landed. It had been stopped in it's attempt for freedom by the errant log. I climbed back up, careful not to send myself or the camera back down the ravine. I made it back to the top, sweaty and tired. But entirely victorious, because thanks to canon for building their earlier digital cameras like rocks. It works, just as before! Wohoo! I still have a camera!

Contemplation

I'm bundled up. Under a Yak skin cap and a Rajistani woolen blanket. I'm finally warm enough to write. India has changed me, I've been thinking about that lately. I spend most of my days walking around, looking around. And not doing much of anything in particular. If you know me well, you know that I am a driven person. If I want something I work as hard as I can to achieve it. Like this trip to India. Well, now I've achieved what I wanted to do, I'm here... now what. Well that is the question that I answer every day. Maybe it's helping the crippled woman who can't walk, sits on a plank with wheels and pushes herself along the road with flip-flops on her hands, over an open sewer. Or lately, it's been teaching Tibetan refugees English and hiking into the mountains, the peaks are over 15,000 feet tall, and it's one of three ranges leading up to the Himalayas. I can't see over these mountains and their nothing but foothills... All I want to do is walk over their steely-grey knife edge ridges and see what's beyond. But sadly it's cold enough here, without buying fake northface down jackets or columbia fleece sweatshirts I'm not prepared. But there is a side that just wants to prepare myself and to wander away into the mountains. This place reminds me more of home than anywhere else I've been. I can identify plants here! It's comforting to me, seriously :D Anyways, India has changed me. Here I'm not focused or driven towards any goal instead I dip and dabble in everything. Some days I meet people, other days I don't either way I do about the same thing. I have no destination, no place to be, I can hop on a bus tonight even, and wake up in another city. This is what has made India an amazing place and what has changed me, if I may so, I'm much more mellow than I ever have been in my 19 years on this planet. I don't think I've ever described myself as mellow before, but that's a new adjective that can be attached to me. At least while I travel here. It's hard to describe, but, when I get back and you see me again. Let me know what you think. India is a wild place.
I just got back from the ridge above McLeod Ganj, I spent last night up there, to celebrate the solstice. It was beautiful, as the sun was setting I realized that I was watching the Sunset over India, but it seemed like an ocean. The smog lies over India like a blanket. No matter where I've been, except here, you can see the pollution framing the sky. It makes for beautiful sunsets though. As the sun set on the shortest day of the year, I was on a ridge swiveling my head between the sunset itself, colors bursting, and the mountains behind me. The steep rocky slopes were exposed, naked with the waning light. I could see veins of other kinds of rock, snaking their way in and out of the rugged surface. Patches of snow stood out like the monks wandering around in the cities markets. I was seated on the throne of the world. And I haven't even begun to talk about the moon. It was an amazing night. The eclipse wasn't visible on this side of the world though. I spent the night sitting around a fire with 8 countries represented, and I was in the minority. The only one to represent the U.S.A. and i honestly try to be the best ambassador that I can be. It was great sitting around a comforting fire on a cold night with people from all over the world and all walks of life. Goodnight!

McLeod Ganj, The home of Tibetan Refugees

My hands are cold, and typing is quite difficult. But i will do my best to fight off the cold and type away with my chilled ahnds. It is the end of day two here in McLeod Ganj, it is on the very edge of the mountains. I don't think that the range here is the Himalayas but a smaller range that leads up to them. For the record though, they are still huge. I've decided to stay here and volunteer for at least a week. There is need for english teachers and I've begun volunteering in two different conversation classes. Because it is the Dalai Lama's home there are more Tibetans her than Indians, at least that is how it seems. They receive free housing and education from the Indian government because they are refugees. Because of the aid they receive they are amazingly well off here. In fact this town seems to have only two resident beggars, which is saying a lot here in India. Today I went on a hike with a monk that I met in one of the conversation classes. We hiked up to a ridge over looking the town we walked for five hours. It was a serious venture! Ok, sadly I really can't type at all so I'm going to go and try to find somewhere that serves the Tibetan butter tea. The monk that i hiked with told me that he made that for breakfast. It sounds like fat in a mug. Which is perfect when the temperature is hovering just above freezing.

Feeling better

Now i'm feeling a little bit more alive than last night. so away I go. today I took a walk through the bustling city of Amritstar. Indian cities defy the imagination, but comparitively this one is quite small. Nonetheless, I had to dodge horse drawn carts, motorcycles and cars. Not to mention the swarming foot traffic. I was on a mission to find the bus station once more. I did, and I will be scooting out of this city tomorrow about mid day. Off to McLeod Ganj, the residence of the Dali Lama, sadly he isn't home. His website says that he's off on the other side of the country inagurating something rather. The highlight of my day was once again volunteering at the origional hippie fest. Here, upwards of 80,000 meals are served, which means a massive amount of food has to be made, plus served and all the dishes must be cleaned. The Sikh's, believing in the inclusion of all peoples let you walk right into their most holy place and share a meal with them. The temple has few rules, no smoking within one kilometer, shoes must be removed, and feet must be washed. This is easily facilitated by depressions with running water in them. all one has to do is to walk through it. Heads must be covered as well. As long as these rules are followed all are welcome. It feels like a huge hippy fest. I have taken it upon myself to volunteer as much as possible. I've washed dishes, arranged dirty dishes to be brought to the washing stations, washed the floors and made chapatis (Indian flat bread). It has been a blast, and truly the least I can do since I get to eat and stay for free. This place holds a holyness that I've never felt before. From the moment that the sun rises there is a continuous chant/song that is played from inside the Golden Temple, holy men sing, play the tabla and harmonium in an endless litany that can be heard all around the temple. Speakers in India are synonymous with blown out and scratchy. But here the music is kept as background, so wherever one is it can be heard. I, obviously do not understand, but there are a few TV screens with the translations playing across them. The Sikh's believe that "Service to humanity is service to god." Although not unique, never have I seen this idea shared so unconditionally and so selflessly anywhere before. These turbaned people, who cannot cut their hair, and carry daggers beneath their clothes invite anyone to stay in their dorms, use their clean drinking water and eat their food. No one is trying to push anything religious on anyone, but they are inviting everyone to share this beautiful and unique place with them.
The Temple itself is astounding. Go online and look at a picture if you can. Very soon I will have my own pictures on Flickr, but the Golden Temple is really gold. The temple is in the middle of a lake, which is considered to be "nectar" or holy water, on all sides is a two-laned road sized walkway that converges and leads out to the temple. From dawn to about 10 PM people are lined up to walk into the temple with their offerings, drink the holy water and see the book which is like their bible. Each day the book is carried to and from the temple in an elaborate procession. Sitting by the lakeside I've seen the temple in the changing light from dawn to dusk. The surreal Golden temple seems to change form with the light. And the stream of multicolored people seem to feed the temple and make it even grander than it is. This place is yet another wonder that cannot be described.
Just imagine me, smiling, without anything to say as I roll chapatis, wash the floors and hopefully serve people! Which is what I hope to do tonight. This place has a lesson to teach mankind, it is like Martin Luther King's dream come true on the other side of the world. Where anyone, can come and sit together on the floor, in the grand dining halls and eat food that passed through countless hands just to reach one mouth. I am awed by this beautiful example of what humans are capable of!

Golden Temple

Long story short... I headed north. I'm in Punjab, in Amritstar, and staying in the dorms at the Golden Temple. It is gorgeous, like so many other things in India, but it is also the most spiritual place I have been. I've got a free place to stay and free food. Sikhs' believe in the inclusion of all people. And they've taken that idea to an extreme. Today, I've volunteered in the Kitchen, making Chapatis and Washing dishes. After two hours of washing, I was beat. The magnitude of the food production is so immense, and it is all done by volunteers. Absolutely amazing! I guess i'm too tired to write or something. Because my thoughts feel like snot, slowly dripping through my mind... ya, I'm tired. That was a horrible analogy. Rather than scrapping this though, I would like to say that if you ever come to India. come to the Golden Temple. I am blown away constantly by the hospitality of these complete strangers who wear daggers. They have created a space that feels holy. The energy is just different here, it is serene and calm in a city that is crazy beyond believe. Here anyone can sleep and eat, with no questions asked, just a splash of rice pudding there and a glob of chic-peas here. Tomorrow I plan to volunteer some more, maybe try and serve food or chop veggies. Good night

When in India

I'm not sure why I decided to chain myself to a softly pulsing screen while it slowly sucks my life away, especially since it's my birthday. But here I am, so to give myself a break I'm just going to write. I've been keeping a journal since I've been here to capture all the wild moments that have passed. To be honest, life is a wild moment. The computer that I'm using doesn't read CD's and the attendant is banging the computer to get it to work. Life here is wild, abstract and incongruent. It's like a dungeons and dragons game or a chose your own adventure book. At least it can be that way if I am in the right headspace and am feeling well. Otherwise India threatens to swallow me whole, into the swirling fumes of burning garbage and waterways of sewage. This place is a paradox, like so many things in life. I place where the most barren places yield crops under the watchful eye of even the most weathered people. Here you cannot go anywhere without being assaulted be throngs of people trying to pull you into "my shop," "look here sir," and "today, please!" India takes no prisoners in her reckoning. Either I can bathe in it, laugh as I get hit by motorcycles and errant cows. Or I can walk with my head down, looking out for shit in the road, and trying not to catch anyone's eye. Both are reasonable solutions. But, as a lone traveler, without the support of a friend or partner. I have to be outgoing and try to reach out past the walking pocketbook syndrome of traveling and meet real people. There is so much to see here, in one alleyway there is a plethora of shops that cater to all sorts of needs. Everything is tiny, small hole in the wall shops that cascade into the streets with their multicolored wares. There is no way to describe this place until you have been here. India is beyond the scope of description, and beyond photos. It is like trying to capture the grand canyon. There are a million photos of it, but you have to stand at the brink of the 2,000 foot canyon walls, struck by the angled winter light, glowing amber and beige; to really get the picture. India is like that, I am determined to get in, get dirty, learn as much as I can and have fun! So, first step is to learn Hindi...
Ok, I'm tired, there's a rant for the masses :D Happy Birthday to me!

One month!

I've been here for a month. So much has happened that there is no way I could ever put it into words. Today, for example, I have been wandering around Jaisalmer asking random tourists if they would like to be in a movie... it's a long story. But tomorrow I get to play invader and get to be in a movie... haha, I don't even know how it works, but it does.

here's what I've got:
India is the noisiest country in the world, people yell at each other, but their not angry.
Fireworks happen every night, they aren't bombs... don't be alarmed, even if they are aimed at me. Here in India, there are fireworks that just make loud bangs, like serious explosions. Don't come to India with PTSD
Look both ways when crossing one way streets.
If there are lines in the road, drivers will straddle them, rather than follow them.
Yield to cows, they are bigger and stronger than me
The red stuff that men spit, is pan. It is really hard to chew, and mita pan (sweet pan) is much better. Pan is like a mouth explosion of spices wrapped in a leaf.
No need for roller coasters, just hop on the back of someones motorcycle.
Take sleeper class, 3rd class is nicknamed "jungle class," because it is a free for all to get seats, many people have to just stand.
Watch where you step! need I say more?
Think of night buses as free massages
Carry a flashlight with you at all times.
Don't anger Indian men, they will kick you out of their establishment
Lizard tastes like lizard.
Indians will, and do rip me off, there is no way to avoid it.
Use your right hand! Do it like an Indian... haha
When in doubt, watch an Indian

They guide books don't seem to tell anyone that coming to india will result in a loss of hearing, everything is so loud! I didn't even know that the clock I brought ticked until a week ago. Bring earplugs

And finally! Smile and laugh as much as possible, India is insane, so enjoy it!

Bike Ride in Bundi

A good long while ago, Chris and I. With two french friends went on a bike ride. Not an ordinary bike ride. But an Indian one... this means, of course, crazyness. We rented the bikes for a little less than a dollar a day. Calling these bikes clunkers would be a compliment. There is only one kind of bike here, all the bikes are the same, even the new bikes are made the exact same. It is kind of odd to see bikes that look like they;re 20 years old and others with the bubble wrap still attached, all practically identical. Bubblewrapped motorcycles and bikes among other things can be seen cruising around the city. I assume that people just want everything to be as spanking new for as long as possible.
THese bikes have the weirdest and most un ergonomic handlebars, they curve backwards, towards the back of the bike, so that if I took a tight turn the handlebars would jab into my thighs. There are no gears. They deon't exist here.
Anyways, with the bikes between our legs. We were off, at a snail pace, but away we went. Each hill looked like a mountain on these bikes. Later I heard Chris say, "I would say that it was a flat bike ride, but with the bikes that we had, it was hilly." Nonethess, we strained up each and every hill. The moment we were out of the city I was blissed out. it was the first time that I had really gotten away from people since I'd gotten to India. And, more than that, we were on an adventure, we passed a lilypad covered lake which to me seemed too surreal compared to the desert that we had been traversing by buss. An indian guy tried to get us to come to his bar, he rode his motorcycle alongside of us for 10 minutes or so. finally he got the message that we were determined to make it to the far off waterfall (17 kilometers). Very early on in the ride, my waterbottle fell off of my bike and broke. This meant that for the rest of the time. I was carrying a 2 liter bottle upside down. It just made me seem that much goofier. We rode single file because at any moment a camel cart, bus, tractor blaring Indian pop from totally blown out speakers, or some other vihechal would round the bend and put us in eminent danger. But like all good tourists aclimated to the subcontinent, we barely batted an eye when busses would take up the whole road and push us off into the non-existant shoulder.
Climbing a hill, we passed under nothing else than a monolithic wall... Since I've been here, I ahve seen all sorts of massive, magnificent and beautiful buildings, seriously, this country has been dipped, fried and brushed with as mcuh history as the street food is covered in oil. Everywhere you turn there is some building that has been standing for over a thousand years. But, to see a relic of an ancient past, probalby 10 kilometers from Bundi and the old palace and fort. Basically out in the middle of the desert. The first line of defence of course, for the people of the past. Was enough to make everyone of us hop off our bikes, it helped that we were all exhausted as well. Chris found the way up, and I played invader, climbing a tree adjacent to the wall and getting over. The wall was 20 feet tall on the outside edge. A priminent line slicing across the empty desert. We clambored around for ten minutes or so before we left. Finding a wall out in the middle of no where was much crazier to me than a lot of the palaces and forts I had seen before. It felt like it came out of nowhere.
The rest of the ride was nondescript if you don't count the countless times we were almost hit by cars, autorickshaws or other vehicles. The most exciting thing was that people were genuinely excited to see us (and laugh at the 4 foreigners bopping along on bikes). At one point we stopped at a crossroads and a man walked up to me and handed me a beedie, an Indian cigarette, I smoked it in front of him and everyone was laughing and smiling... I guess because I was smoking a beedie, but who knows. Smoking them always gets great reactions from Indians, I ahve taken to carrying them around as a good will guesture. (in india people really don't have much of a sense of space, right now, in the internet cafe, there is a boy who is intently staring at my screen. hopefully he doesn't understand what I'm writing...) Anyways, back to the story, we made it to the waterfall... It was huge! The place was beautiful, and we were alone there for maybe 5 minutes before throngs of people arrived, to bathe and go to the little shrine under the fall itself. Everything is sacred in India, it seems that as far as people are willing to carry paint, plaques or statues. You will find temples to the gods or nature herself.
I swam in the water, the only time I've swam anywhere except for the ocean It was so refreshing after our long bike ride. We climbed up to the top of the waterfall and walked for a little ways until some Indian guys fllowed us with their cellphones, blasting indian pop. They were determined to bother the french women so we quickly descended. Back down where there were buildings(town?), we got some chai and sat down. we were sitting in one row of chairs facing a bunch of Indian men sitting across from us and facing us. They stared at us the whole time that we sat there, and when I pulled out my trail mix to eat some. They guestured that they wanted to see what I had. i gave them a little bit. Which, they didn't seem to enjoy(it's bird food anyways :D)
It was fun! The bike ride just proved to me that there really are people everywhere here. It was a mistake for me to bring camping gear. Better to just throw a blanket down in a vacant corner of the street like the houseless Indian people do. There just are no end to the people. The adventure was a blast, and my first real taste of nature in India.

Well...

I'm not particularly eloquent nor prolific. But I am trying my best to give people a taste of what my experience is. I am in Jaisalmer in the Thar desert, on the western side of India. I have been here for a while and i might be here for the rest of my time. 6 days ago, just as I was contemplating where to go next a strange thing happened: I was sitting in the shade of the first fort gate, everything is a monolithe and this was no exception. My backpack was on and I was waiting for 2 friends I had just met. We were planning to go and play frisbee down by the lakeside. The lake itself has massive catfish in it. You can feed them bread and they go crazy! Anyways, I was sitting there, wondering how I was going to get back into the desert.
I just finished a camel safari 2 days before, it was a blast. But I had the idea in my head to truely get out. Out to the nomadic people who wander all winter, moving from place to place with their goats. The other idea was to head north, to Punjab. I hadn't made a decision but I was ready.
A man approached me and began talking, before I knew it he was offering to take me into the desert. For only 300 rupees a day. But for some reason, when a friend of his showed up on a motorcycle he passed me along to him. We exchanged a few brief words and then we were off. On the back of his motorcycle. He took me to his house, which is where I am staying now. I am learning, albeit slowly, the local language: Marwari and Hindi, learning two languages at once sucks, but I can't convince Tara, the man whose family I am staying with, to teach me one or the other. Since the first day, I have been on to many adventures to count. I went to see a gypsy village, took part in the wedding ceremony for his cousin, helped another one of his cousins out on his farm. It included working until 1 in the morning using a giant threshing machine to process the harvest, and we went lizard hunting.
I am safe and in good hands :D I know some people might worry, but everything is fine. Tara took me into his home because as he told me, it was gods will that we met at the time that we did. His family doesn't have much. But enough to share their home with me. it is just like being on exchange again. I am here because I want to sink into the culture and learn what it means to live in this desolate place. As a tourist, hopping from sight to sight, I only could glaze over what was actually happening. Now I am taking the opportunity to really sink in and learn from another culture. I am not commited to anything, but so far everyone in Tara's family has been so kind to me. His youngest son is just starting to get over me, until today, he would cry every time I walked within 20 feet of him...
Who knows how it will pan out. Tara's family are desert people, like everyone else. Tara speaks English because he used to be a camel driver who took people out on safaris. His family has a farm out in the desert, in a town with no electricity where the houses are made from dung, sand and stone. This is the India that I have only seen from a distance, but I hope to live it. I will do my best to keep everyone informed about my adventures. I am even worse at taking pictures. but even so all of my photos are on flickr.com under alexlandt. You can search me out and check the photos out!
Thank you for reading!