Happy Panji...doh..Panjo...doh...Pongal

Being in India gives me a taste of what it is to be a minority, a foreigner, a side-show freak at times. People stare at me and children are afraid of me. I try to say hello and they bury their scared little faces in their mothers' necks. Trying to communicate is very challenging since I, unfortunately, only speak one language. I usually find myself speaking loudly and gesturing way too much. 

The fact that we are traveling and tourists makes being authentic and real even more difficult. I never know what someone's motives are. I remember I one time paid a girl to take her picture because it was expected by the half dozen others whose pictures I took. When she was surprised that I offered to pay her, I felt like shit. I immediately stuffed my rupees away and left the scene of the crime.

I try to connect with the touts and the Tuk Tuk drivers. And in India, I notice that it's not too difficult to have a sweet moment...if you look for it. There are some opportunities, but not as many as I'd like.

So it was a really special treat when Moony invited us into his home to meet his family. It was one of the first times I was able to let my guard down and just trust the company and appreciate who they were. 

We entered his home and were immediately greeted by a huge collection of older and younger folks. There was Moony's wife and their four children. There were his brother and sister-in-law and their two children. There were a bunch of other relations that I couldn't keep track of. His house was very modest and very different from western homes. The floor was cement and there were no chairs in the room. Of course he scuttled about to find a couple for us, but we just all ended up sitting together on the floor.

Then there was the whole language barrier. Mostly warm looks, curious stares and lots of friendly nodding. Then the ice was broken when Jake broke out his camera. But brilliantly, he didn't take photos. He just gave the camera to the kids and let them go at it. Pretty soon the adults were taking pictures with it too. Every possible combination of relationships were documented in the photo session that followed.

Once the photo shoot ended, the universal glue was presented....the thing that brings us all together...yep..food. Moony's wife, who I took to calling Mommy Ji, brought sweet rice and bananas in honor of Pongal, the festival that celebrates the harvest. Of course she didn't bring spoons and Moony said something to her and she ran off and rummaged about for some spoons for us. Then there was a little more awkward silence and I cheered "Happy Panji" which was received with confused looks. Then I tried "Pongil"...to which they responded "ahhh Happy Pongol". And we all had a good laugh at my bad Tamil.

The children also helped to break the ice some more. They practiced their English on me and I was delighted to get to play a game of naming body parts with them. I would point to my nose and Moony's adorable littlest daughter would proudly say "nose" with her sweet Indian accent.

While I'm doing this, Moony's teenage daughter is giving Jake a beautiful henna tattoo on his hand and her cousin is giving him another on his other hand. Jake is huge by Indian standards and he looked like a temple sculpture with both of his palms held out for the henna.

In the meantime, Moony's sister in law has run off and returned with her baby for me to meet. Indian babies are particularly adorable with their eyes made up and tiny bindies on their foreheads.

But, Janu, the adult niece (I think) of Moony was holding out on us and I soon learned that she also spoke very good English. Once that was revealed, she loosened up and we were invited to her house, where she offered me a piece of sugar cane, which I immediately began to gnaw on. It was cool because it was one of those things that typically wouldn't be offered to western tourists. But it's a delicious treat to chew and suck the sweet sugary juices out of it.

She showed us pictures of her husband and we lingered in her place. She told us about her husband, who is a milkman, and we exchanged addresses. 

We went back to Moony's house and we got to see the pooja, which is a little altar where they honor a particular god. I'm not sure which god it was, but I'll bet it was Ganesha, the elephant God of welcome and new beginnings, since that's what our visit was all about.

Moony Ji

One of the hard things about traveling is that you're immediately funneled into tourist areas, treated like tourists and made to feel like outsiders. I've come to accept that this is just the way it is and there's not much I can do about it.

So, when Jake said, "I met a guy who feeds homeless people and he's taking us out with him to feed the homeless tomorrow at 11", I immediately felt doubt and cynicism about it. What's the gig? Is this guy for real or is this a clever scheme to get us to his store to buy stuff? But Jake just smiled at me and used my own words, "just say yes" to convince me that I should trust and go.

We were picked up by the sweetest, kindest man who got out of his car and put his hands together in the familiar prayer gesture and welcomed us into his little van. On the back and side windows it said, MMC TRUST DESTITUTE FEEDING. Inside the car we were seated next to about twenty prepackaged food tins. 

As we started to drive away, he handed me an article that described his simple story. He was a mechanic that one day saw a hungry and homeless person on the street and when he asked the person what he could do to help, the person said he would just like some tea and bread. This was Moony's calling and since then for the past ten years he delivers 100 meals to homeless people every morning at 8 o'clock. Yep. That's it. He cooks rice and gravy for them and delivers it in tins and little bags. His dream is to start a home for the homeless in Madurai.

We rode along with him and participated in the delivery of food to about seven people. Jake had generously given Moony $50 in our name, so there was a lot of picture posing and hand shaking and John and I looked like ambassadors or something. It felt a little disingenuous and awkward, but we were willing to do it, if it helped Moony continue his good work.

To witness the authentic gratitude of the people was a great privilege. One guy kept waving his hand and praising the gift of rice and gravy. Another woman had a vibrant smile. Moony took us to the home that he provided for Rajesh who was severely handicapped. So much that he needed to walk with his hands. He also couldn't speak. Moony provided him with a cement room and he cooked on a small fire in the front yard. He was happy with these meager provisions 

These people were so destitute it was hard to witness. I felt pity and shame. I always struggle with myself when I participate in charity. It feels like never enough and almost ridiculous and absurd that I'm who I am and they are who they are. All these feelings are a silly waste of time and I'm starting to learn that being charitable should be a "just do it" approach. Just be your imperfect self and do it. 

When I asked Moony why he did this, he just put his hands together over his heart and gazed at me. It was the clearest, most accurate message he had communicated to me during our visit. 

While we have been traveling, Jake has taught us some basic Hindu language to help talk to folks that we met. One thing he taught us was that when you say, "ji" after someone's name it shows respect. As we finished our little charity excursions with Moony, I thanked him and called him, Moony Gee. He liked that and had a hearty laugh about it.

If you would like to help Moony Ji to continue his dream you can contact him at...worldmkr2000@yahoo.in  and check out his website at www.mmctrust.in

Elephants, Tigers and Rafts, Oh My!

Periyar Tiger Reserve is a lot like any woods in Maine. There's a man-made lake there with ancient stumps sticking out of it, lots of trees with similar green leaves and...oh yeah...TIGERS. 

The coolest thing about walking through Periyar is that, as you're  walking, you're imagining what you would do when a tiger jumped out of the brush and attacked you. 

My scenario, which I shared at dinner that evening after the park visit, was something like, "I'd jam my arm into the tiger's mouth, thus sacrificing my arm, but saving my neck, which I'm sure would lead to ultimate death. Then I would expect John to pounce on the tiger thus detaining him from killing me long enough for the guide to shoot the tiger dead." But Jake quickly reminded me that the tiger also has two giant paws with razor sharp claws which would easily rip open my jugular vein. 

Good-bye Maine woods...right.

So we started our day at Periyar at 8 AM. We elected the rafting adventure because we would likely have more opportunity to see wildlife since the raft is quieter. I had read several guidebooks and websites about Periyar (as well as conversations with a lovely New Zealand family) that warned that folks rarely see wildlife on the wildlife viewing excursions offered by the reserve. So I tempered my enthusiasm with good common sense. After all, it was a lovely day and we were paddling on a peaceful lake in the western mountains of southern India...what's not to like.

But I secretly wished for more. You see, it was my birthday that day, and you always get one wish on your birthday, right? 

So when Jake asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I said I wanted to see an elephant. I figured that an elephant would not be as scary as a tiger, and I actually love elephants more than tigers. So I wished for an elephant.

I imagined that seeing an elephant in the wild would be something like most elephants I have seen. They are kind, smiling eyed, docile creatures. Sometimes you can feed them bananas out of your hand and pat them on their big floppy ears. They stand still for you and the caretaker can make them do tricks.

So as we slowly paddled about on Lake Periyar, I imagined elephants coming down to the shore to have a drink of cool water. I kept a close watch on the shore, but the most we saw were some black wild boars scurrying about and very far away. In fact, we could hardly recognize them. The day grew longer and hotter and the trip was from 8-5. The likelihood of seeing animals was growing dimmer by the hour. 

We had to trek through the jungle for a good chunk of the time. The guides were very helpful and pointed out all sorts of unique plants and interestingly shaped trees. I had read that the guides in Periyar were reformed poachers who knew all about the jungle and the behaviors of wild animals. I wished I had had the ability to chat in greater depth with one of them, but even the few things he did share indicated that he knew his stuff. This one guy looked like he had spent the bulk of his adult life in the jungle. He had super dark skin and sharp eyes. He was spry and strong even though he looked very old. He could easily identify footprints and droppings and tell me how long they had been there. He knew all the different plants and how they were useful. I wondered if he enjoyed his new career as a guide and if it lacked the excitement that poaching presented.

 It was getting hot and frankly, boring. Everyone in our group was polite and not very talkative. 

Then we heard it. This awesome sound. So amazingly loud that it startled me.  I had previously mistaken sounds I'd  heard. I thought a woodpecker was a tiger purring. I thought a monkey was a tiger's roar. But this sound was definitely something big and powerful. Jake aptly described it as Satan's trombone.

The guides immediately flew into action. Very quickly I learned that it was an elephant. Then we heard another similar sound. There were two elephants. Of course we all started to run toward the sound. But the guides came running back toward us. You could see the authentic fear in their eyes. Their eyes were huge as rupees. They weren't trying to help us see the elephant, they were trying to protect us from the elephant. One of the guides kept saying "dangerous, very dangerous" and his eyes confirmed that sentiment. 

So we were all huddled together like hostages in a little clearing. The elephant could charge and crush us. I quickly remembered John telling me that there were 400 deaths by elephants in India every year. This made me want to run very far and very fast. But seeing wild animals is what we were there for. We wanted to see this creature we were being told to run away from. Each time the guide with the gun waved his arms to send us back, there was some hesitation. This only made the guide show even greater alarm as he kept swinging his arms to send us further away. 

So many possible scenarios went through my mind. At one point I asked one of the guides if it would be good to hide behind a tree. He laughed at me. Hmph.

The other two guides were ever so cautiously attempting to investigate the situation. There was a lot of talk that I couldn't understand, but I could tell from the tone of their voices that they were not all in agreement about how to handle the situation. The one with the gun was insisting that we get further and further away. The other guy was more willing to risk...which I liked...cause I wanted to see the elephant.

Finally the little guy won over the guy with the gun and we were allowed to creep up slowly to peek at the BULL ELEPHANT about 50 yards away from us. He was munching on a tree. Every once in a while he would start to move and the guy with the gun would start waving for us to get back. 

"Go away, go away" he would shout and wave his hands at us. Then we would creep back up and watch a little longer. 

But there was also the danger of the MOTHER AND HER BABY on the other side of the path catching wind of us and charging from there. The guide later explained that it was a particularly dangerous situation because we were in the woods and the elephants can't really perceive what's happening and they're  more likely to be aggressive. 

We all loomed in the glow of elephant energy for a good twenty minutes and then started to head back to the raft. 

As we were returning, half of our group was missing. One of the women noticed this and we all ran back to see the second sighting of the elephant. This time we got to see her whole body and we were about 75 yards away. She looked so important and strong. There was something noble about her on her turf and on her terms. Very humbling.

We lingered a little longer then started back to the raft and then the hike back to the gates. All the way back I was keenly focused on the possibility of another sighting. It was an awesome experience that I'm amazed to have had. Happy birthday to me! 

Go with the flow, baby!

So we decided to take a day cruise along the Kerala backwaters, which are these series of canals surrounded by rice paddies and homes. Our guide described the boats as canoes and then he gave us a choice of motored or paddled. I thought I said motored when I arranged the date, but when we arrived there was an ancient man standing next to a canoe with no motor, just a couple of tiny paddles and three fat Americans. I asked about the motor and ...well...let's just say there was a communication breakdown. 

I shrank with shame as I climbed into our boat and the trip began. We had booked a 5 HOUR cruise because our guide said it would take that much time to see everything. And I started out the trip worrying about how boring it would be to slowly paddle around in a canoe on this lazy river. And how mortifying it would be to have my great grandfather doing all the work. I was convinced that being motorized was much more exciting and that this communication breakdown had ruined the day.

Well, as is usually the case with my assumptions, I was wrong! We had a great adventure. Our old man was far from feeble or resentful. Right at the start of the trip, he donned  a brilliantly colored umbrella hat and a brilliant smile to match it. His canoe was decorated with flowers, an auspicious peacock feather and a book with the writings of Amma, the hugging saint, we had just visited. And Jake got several opportunities to jump up and do some paddling as well.

As we drifted through the backwaters we saw so many things up close. Things we would never have seen from the a larger boat. Being close to the water meant that we could reach out and touch the beautiful purple flowers that were floating next to the boat. We were so close to shore that Jake could hop out of the boat and stroll along the paths with the villagers as they fished for dinner, washed their clothes in the water or just sat by and watched the day pass. Jake stopped to chat with one family and all cheered "Barack Obama" after he told them we were Americans. I loved how I could make eye contact with the women washing clothes or dishes along the shore. And the children skipping along the pathways waved and said in their perfect English, "Hello, how are you?".

We stopped for lunch at this one place and easily got to hang around as long as we wanted to since we were the only passengers in the boat. The owner of the tiny restaurant served our lunch on a banana leaf. We ate a traditional Keralan meal of coconut chutney and mango pickle and rice and curried veggies. I got to have a green coconut which is really delicious. They poke a whole in a green coconut and give you a straw to sip on the cool water inside. Then, when you're done, they split it open and you scrape out the coconut jelly on the inside. To top off the visit, Jake and I had the awesome privilege of holding an eagle on our arms, just because we happened to be there at that time and the friendly keeper of the eagle liked us.

The journey was wonderfully peaceful without the loud buzz of a motor and our little canoe could explore down tiny little water pathways that would just gum up a motor. We got to explore all the different backwater neighborhoods up close and witnessed their pretty idyllic lives with beautiful rice fields for back yards.

Yes, we all agreed at the end of the day surrounded by a golden sunset on the backwaters of Kerala that paddling in a canoe was a great way to go with the flow.

Oh Karma, Why must you torture me? 1/8/2015

Last time we went to India, John's piriformis acted up and it was pretty painful. If you don't know what a piriformis is, it is a muscle deep in the cheek of your butt. It's a tough muscle to reach and his best massage skills still didn't do the trick. So he found this Ayurvedic store in Kerala and bought some special oil recommended by a doctor there. It was really strong smelling and he smelled of it for much of the trip. After awhile, I took to calling it ass-oil, since the real name was impossible to pronounce.

On the way home, we were going through airport hell and I was in a rotten mood with the world. And when I'm in a rotten mood with the world, I typically take it out on John. (See "Marcia and the train" entry in earlier blog entries). So picture me lugging a ridiculous amount of baggage through the airport and discovering that John's ASS-oil had spilled all over our clothes and the bag and it reeked of ASS-oil everywhere. So there I am, tired and exhausted and complaining about HIS ASS-oil!

Now jump ahead three years and imagine me with a sore shoulder. Imagine me asking an Ayurvedic pharmacist for something for sore shoulders and he gives me this amazing product an OIL that nearly heals my aching shoulder. Can you smell it yet?

Now imagine it...yes...leaking and sharing it's delightful aroma with the rest of the clothes in MY bag.

Oh, Karma.

Yep...Karma.

There and back again. 1/3/2015

After a few days of foggy jet lag, I'm starting to feel like I'm on an adventure and no longer sleeping by day and shifting, twitching and thrashing by night. Jet lag is not fun and I manage to deceive myself into thinking I don't really have it and I'm just a useless, lazy, boring human being instead. Hmmmm. Not my best reasoning, but now you might understand my urge to seek meditation and spiritual enlightenment...anything to escape my own mind.

But, alas, this is not a rant about my shortcomings. This entry is filled with sage wisdom about the value of returning to the same place.

Last time I came to India, we visited a little village called Ganeshpuri. It's the home of three gurus that we both feel a strong connection to. We decided that we would re-enter India via Geneshpuri again, especially since Mumbai was such an unpleasant experience last time I came. (See previous entry "Mumbai is not for Beginners") But since I've been here I've realized that it's very sweet to come back again to the same place...especially a small place like Ganeshpuri. We were picked up at the Mumbai airport by our friend and host Denish. That was truly luxurious considering that the alternative would have been to negotiate with strangers and struggle desperately with how to explain where Ganeshpuri was. 

There was also something nice about returning to our same room and village . We knew where to go to get our first Chai of the visit and we knew a few names. Even the street venders remembered us, which felt kinda special. No these weren't incredibly close friends, but there was an authentic welcoming energy to reuniting with them.

One of the things I don't really like about travel is being a stranger and worse, a tourist. Yeh, we were still tourists to these folks, but we were also old friends. Granted, the cynic in me wants to say, yea, of course they are gonna call you friends. It will help them seal the deal and get your money, but I did get some enlightenment while I was here and I like to think that the authenticity I read in their eyes was as truthful and sincere as it felt.

I feel ready to move on and know I got a little of my "family" right here in India.

Next stop, Kerala!