Misha Gitberg

from Thailand to Laos

misha — Wed, 2 Apr 2008 00:14:00 GMT

Sawaidi Kaap Dear Friends and Family,

we are in Laos-yes, another country before we start our slow returning to North America.

Last two weeks we spend in the North of Thailand, a city called Chiang Mai.
(see pictures at : http://www.flickr.com/photos/mishateodora/sets/72157604409018077/detail/)

There, in the Wat Ram Poeng , we
had a very challenging meditation retreat for 10 days. Challenging but very useful. Meditating 8-11 hours daily and trying yet another new Vipassana technique, have sharpened my mind way beyond its habitual dullness.
Therefore, you will see how my writing now have become concise and to the point. I will write separately about meditating at Wat Ram Poeng, the technique we have mastered and interesting people we have met there

you can view pictures from the Wat at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mishateodora/sets/72157604409257257/detail/

After the retreat, we boarded the Slow Boat and travelled indeed very slowly along the winding picturesque Mekong river
for two days, burning our bums on uncomfortable narrow sits and being surrounded by all sort of folks: travelling monks as well as loud partying on cheep Laos beer British.

sea pictures from this trip at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mishateodora/sets/72157604393907745/detail/

Now we are in charming and laid back Luang Prabang, a former French colonial city, full of flowers and treas in bloom, small Buddhist Wats and smiling locals, who for some reason have not lost their genuine hospitality in the face of swelling tourism. We feel very rich hear, being able to afford dinners for 80,000 Kips (Laos currency is not doing great.)

see first batch of pictures from Luang Prabang at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mishateodora/sets/72157604389398328/detail/

We are planning to rest here for about two weeks, then travel south to the capital, Vientiene, and then fly back to
Bangkok for our final week in Thailand and Asia!!

We are definitely ready to start our trotting back: full to the brink with impressions, new leanings, new encounters, practices,tastes and roads- we are ready for something more stable and quite, for example sleeping in the same bed for more then just a few nights and making our own meals.

Our flight is to San Franciso, as we will be working and studying for three months in Tassajara, Buddhist Zen centre, 5 hours into the mountains from SF. It seems like an amazing place and we hope to explore integrating
meditation practice and work in the setting of a spiritual community.

sea their site at:

http://www.sfzc.org/tassajara/display.asp?catid=4,19&pageid=182

In the last few months Teodora and I have been talking about starting a meditation centre; somewhere where the sea and sky meet and where mountains try to hold such meeting together :-) So, living in a spiritual community for a while will give us a taste of such life as well as knowledge we could use later in creating meditation retreat of our own.
If any of you are anxious to donate land or service to such an enterprise, here is your chance :-)

For all of you in Toronto, who are braving this harsh winter, we send our warm thoughts and best wishes!
As Buddhists say: while pain is inevitable, Suffering is optional. Do you think they are right? :-)

with love,
Misha

PS
to see pictures from our elephant trip on Cochang, go to :

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mishateodora/sets/72157604099100980/detail/

and to view pictures from Cochang island beach life, go to:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mishateodora/sets/72157604103640121/detail/

Nepal to Thailand

misha — Fri, 7 Mar 2008 19:30:00 GMT

Dear Friends and Family,

I am writing from the hot, fragrant and modern Thailand where we have arrived three weeks ago.
It was only three hours flight from Kathmandu, yet the world of difference awaited us in the
super modern and stylish Bangkok's new airport, where clever machines aided impeccably
dressed in sexy uniforms workers and where one can eat from the spotless cool marble floor.
In no time we were out on an American style highway, speeding high above the city, past golden pagoda roofs of the many Wats (temples) to the center of Bangkok, marked by a host of Sky scrapers, in an air conditioned taxi. Shocked to face such convenience and in guilty disbelief about abundance of new cars, good roads and
general wealth, we inhaled fragrance of Jasmine and fresh fruits permeating the city, stepped across the goldfish pond into our small hotel in the middle of Kao San, a noisy tourist area, catering to every sensual whim of western nomads. 30 minutes later Teodora, I and Menno, a very nice guy from Holland (whom we met at Kopan monastery) were sitting under 28 C sun at a small road side restaurant, eating very good curry and drinking young coconut juice out of a real coconut. All of us, still full of very recent impressions of cold showers in cold Kathamndu, lack of electricity and common sight of lit candles romancing the streets during the "load shedding" times; poverty and beggars, pollution from burning fires (to keep warm) and from noisy generators -- were feeling out of sorts in this place, where even tourists suddenly seemed to be made out of different batch: gone those long haired and bearded or shaved bold spiritual seekers. They were replaced with folks who came to party, eat good sea food, receive countless Thai massages and consume company of cute in their petitness smiley Thai ladies. Actually any kind of sex is available here: women, men and everything in between. When we booked our hotel
online, options in the pull down menu indicated: man, woman or "both man and woman."
Later we learned that Bangkok is a capital for sex reassignment surgeries. So, here we were, feeling out of sink, not understanding how
is it possible to have such tremendous contrasts in the standard of life between the two countries, somehow feeling guilty to be able to enjoy it, yet getting excited about exploring this Paradise.

I will tell more about our time in Thailand, but first, let's go back to Nepal and finish this chapter properly.

Two months in Nepal turned out to be very productive: we did a good chunk of practice in the beautiful tranquility of Kopan monastery (about which I have wrote in my last letter).

After Kopan, we have travelled to Pochara, on picturesque Phewa lake, where we have joined a three days course taught by an American Tibetan Buddhist monk, Yeshe.

see pictures from Pochara at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mishateodora/sets/72157603837593827/detail/

Yeshe's teachings were very dynamic, clear and interactive, making us re-think main Buddhist's concepts from a very personal standpoint. Yeshe's passion for Dharma, his personable style and last but not least his passion for movies, magnetized a small group of us- a temporary family of unlikely table companions, sharing our life stories, travel impressions and jokes. These conversations I often find very exciting: they give me a feeling of standing at the crossroads of many paths, countries and fates. The world at such moments seem very small and our lives, no matter how diverse, seem very similar in essence.
After the formal course with Yeshe, and an informal hanging around dining room table and mixing with others for a few days, Teodora and have pulled ourselves together for a four days "couple retreat."

Our daily schedule included contemplation of impermanence, Vipassana meditation,
writing about our life aspirations as a couple, identifying habitual patterns we have already developed in the first months of our marriage as well as energy exercises (such as separation/merging), yoga and foot massage.

Although we spend loads of time travelling together, it felt very different to have this reflective and honest space between us. We took another look at our marriage aspirations and realized that while wording of them sounds very uplifting, for example, "aspiration to make our Union the focus of my spiritual practice", in reality we had only a vague sense of what it actually meant for us. So, the main work was to distill this pregnant with possibilities
vagueness into concrete practices we can do each day to bring our aspirations to life and I guess to see wit more clarity where we fail to actualize them.

Looking at our patterns, our aspiration was to move beyond mere adaptation to each other,
mere survival, even if it feels positive. We reasoned that habit was a habit and did not go well with developing genuine presence in life.

At the end of these very tender, thoughtful and collaborative days, we have renewed our marriage aspirations/vows in a small shrine room with only Buddha's image as our witness.

We lingered a bit longer at the Centre, enjoying the company of Yeshe, Edith (young Swiss woman who worked at an isolated ski resort there), Russel, a tall humorous middle aged Australian, who was "between jobs and girlfriends", a young couple from Florida, Michelle and Mason, who just finished their MSW programs and were planning to move away from fast paced and snobbish Maimi. There was also a cute recently married young couple who lived at the Centre: our shy Nepali cook Padam and his slim and composed beautiful Carla from Britain. So, there we were, forming this impermanent yet very cozy and warm group, one of the function of which according to Yeshe was to teach him the lesson of impermanence: people come and go while he stays put for now, developing warm human bonds and then seeing them break, over and over as people take on the road again.

Another experience in Pochara that stuck in my mind was a visit to the Rainbow Children Home, an orphanage, which was started in collaboration with a Dutch woman,who reportedly disappeared after they accepted 19 children into their custody.

you can see photos of these kids at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mishateodora/sets/72157603954843075/detail/

It was a neat experience to be able to play with kids, see them eat, take care of each other, dance to pop Hindi songs on TV and sense their excitement about our interest and affection. My heart was stolen by Saraswati, 11 year old very shy girl, who as I later found out was somewhat developmentally delayed. She would grab my hands in expression of affection and joy, yet would simultaneously try to hide her eyes away in embarrassment. It was bittersweet, leaving this place, having kids hang on us like grapes on trees, their hugs and kisses speaking of starved needs, hesitant hopes and may be even flickering knowledge of ultimate reality of just this one day with us: " Sir! Sir! Madam! will you come back tomorrow!?" I have never been so thoroughly hugged in my life by so many different kids. Who benefited more from this visit I do not know. This kids had to survive, I do know if they could learn from, Impermanence. Day by day, having visitors, who come with good intentions and affection, yet do not linger for too long.
I regret we found out about this place only after we have already made arrangements for the onward travel; it would have been great to volunteer with this home, although I would be at a serious risk of adopting a dozen of these kids. Apparently, some of them come from severe poverty and neglect. We were told that in many cases poor families have to pack their eldest for a bus to Kathmandy where they had to fend for themselves. The could be 10, 11 years old.

After Pochara, we came back to Boudha,

See pictures of Boudha at:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/mishateodora/sets/72157603784230914/detail/

where we had very good time serendipitously meeting a few nice folks from the Kopan monastery as well as some Russians in the Buddhist scene, one of whom, looking rather thin and orphaned, straining to hear while pointing his ancient hearing aid in our direction, have recently came down from meditating in the cave for 4 years. He was very intelligent and interesting to talk too, although also disappointing in the way he, despite some obvious spiritual realizations, smoked and drank rather heavily. I wondered if it is actually possible to have spiritual realizations and still radiate neediness?; Just as serendipitously we also ran into Mathew (Gehlek) from Gampo Abbey,who was very much enjoying his Tibetan studies at Pulahari monastery and was planning to join Thrangy Rinpoche's 7 years Schedra (Tibetan Buddhist school.) We had great conversations over Tibetan momos and Japanese miso soup, and he was very kind to load our iPod with many hours of Dharma talks (Thank you Mathew!). He also led us to Thrangu Rinpoche. We went to see Rinpoche in Losar's (Tibetan New Year) blessing line, full of excited little young Tibetan nuns. His presence was very impressive: kindness and peace radiated from him were palpable. He did not appear orphaned at all! On the way out, his monks ushered us to a red and gold room where we were served Tibetan butter tea, as salty as ever, and some savoury cookies.

Boudha in Losar was full of traditionally dressed pilgrims, students of Buddhism, smiling colourful villagers, and the air buzzed with atmosphere of uplifted celebration, aided here and there by Cham Dancing (Tibetan Mask Dancing, performed by monks) at many Tibetan monasteries, ubiquitous butter lamps flickering at the dense darkness of nights and by the clear silver of monastery bells.

Now, if you still with me, let's go back to Thailand. Bangkok captivated our senses and stupefied our minds; Golden temples were eye popping and jaw dropping simultaneously, so needless to say I have taken gazillion of pictures of all angles possible and it still seemed insufficient!

see pictures of Bangkok at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mishateodora/sets/72157603894680586/

After 10 days or so of luxuriating in Bangkok, we managed to re-remember our spiritual goals and took an easy 3 hours bus ride to Bun Kanjanaram Wat in Pattaya, a busy beech town and an incredible attempt to create Paradise on earth, for farangs (foreigners), Thai style. In a pick up truck converted into a group taxi (Song Tae), we zoomed by long stretches of uninterrupted rows of beech chairs/umbrellas and thousands of baked naked bodies; we took a sigh of relief at the quite Wat and headed to our assigned personal Kutis (meditation huts.), spacious and luxurious by Indian and Nepal standards of spiritual accommodation.

see pictures of the Kuti at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mishateodora/sets/72157603968666603/detail/

Vipassana, or Insight meditation practice here, was developed by the late Achaan Naeb. Her surviving student, Miss Vattoon, a tiny Thai lady in her late 70s, who was a nurse in New York City in her youth, met with Teodora and I every morning on her veranda to teach the practice and to inquire into our progress. With a strong flavor of surreal, in a few days we found ourselves speaking our new vocabulary of Pali (language the Buddha spoke), Thai and English. Like a physician doing her daily rounds, Miss Vatton made inquiries into our practice the way the doctor would ask about presence of too much gas:
"Did you have foong (wondering mind in Thai)?" We had to confess that yes, we had troubles with Foong.
Buiddhas Noble truths became our daily discourse: annicca (impermanence of all compounded things), dukka (suffering, inherent in human condition), annatta (lack of inherent self in all phenomena) and other such concepts.

This practice, contrary to Shamatha or single pointed concentration on breath, had the whole body as primary object of observation. We were instructed to observe Rupa (body) in 4 positions: walking, standing, sitting and lying down. We were supposed to stay in one position without changing until strong discomfort, or "suffering of Rupa" necessitates the change. The idea is to see that the cause of change in position is suffering and not pleasure associated with the change. Thus Miss Vattoon's next regular question: "Have you seen suffering in Rupa (body)?"

While changing from one position to another we had to "yoniso",
carry awareness of pain from one position to another, in order to unmask the fact the each new position of Rupa was to cure suffering of the previous Rupa. "Yes, I yoniso-d all right!",we would confirm to her while struggling to decipher her accent and embedding this new Pali word with a strange ease into the forgiving structure of English language.

One day in reply to Teodora's report of having difficulty staying with "my Rupa", Miss Vattoon, suddenly launched her crooked yet righteous finger at sitting across from her unsuspecting Teodora with: "Who are "you"?!?!" The question was semi-rhetorical as she continued with a satisfied expression without retracting her pointing finger: " You are Nama (mind) and Rupa (body), there is no "you"!"

In our 6 days at the Wat we ate only two meals (at 7 and 11 am) delivered to our Kutis in stacked metal containers which were left hanging on a rope with a hook at the end and which we pulled up to the deck of our meditation ship, ready to relieve the suffering of hunger. We practiced to observed "walking Rupa", "sitting Rupa" as well as "Nama seeing", "Nama hearing" as devoid of "I" On the days when we had too much "foong", we were happy to remember that "foong" is not "us" either and there was nothing to worry about.

It was very interesting to see how this practice aimed at realizing suffering and impermanence, as well as developing skills of awareness in one's natural environment (walking, sitting, eating naturally) rather then still meditation pose. Yet, deliberate cultivation of detachment from the body and mind, seemed rather contrived to me. I think that such profound spiritual realization should arise spontaneously rather then be manufactured.

I also mused about how in this tradition, the goal was to achieve a state, seemingly very similar to a state one often observes in post-traumatic syndrome, when one feels like an automaton or a robot, disconnected from one's body and feelings, even seeing one's body from a distance. Is it possible that traumatized people also have a glimpse of spiritual opening? Could it even be that it is this glimpse of spiritual awareness and the resulting fear that are mainly responsible for perpetuation of post-traumatic state? I better stop raising these questions(at least publicly) before I am excommunicated from the trauma therapists community :-)

After our time at the Wat, we made an array into Pattaya (stay tuned for more detailed stories about Pattay's Paradise, Indian Saddhus, meditation at the Wat etc coming to

my narratives:
http://journals.worldnomads.com/misha/

which amused us to giggles: seeing unimaginable number of geriatric men with young Thai ladies, old boys riding Charley Davidson to the beach, seduction of grilled sea food, fresh exotic fruit, Thai massage, sex of any kind, warm sea, fine sand-all readily available and cheep. Yet, strangely enough this version of Paradise failed to produced happy faces: most people we saw looked stressed or plain unhappy; frowns and density of gaze were incongruent with the alluring promise of Pattaya Paradise. One of such man, accompanied by his all-legs petite and silent Thai woman, wore a T-shirt saying: "Good boy goes to Heaven, Bad boy comes to Pattaya!" I truly hope he managed to feel like a "bad boy!"

After us sweating to come closer to Enlightenment at the Wat, we finally felt deserving enough to be seduced by Thailand. We travelled 6 hours by bus and one hour by boat to Kho Chang (Elephant island), which is still not as touristy and crowded as other places by the sea.

See pictures from Kho Chang at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mishateodora/sets/72157603965117856/

We are staying put here for another week (three weeks altogether), enjoying Thai cooking class, snorkeling, swimming, reading Haruki Murakami, watching movies we bought in Nepal and planning to ride an elephant (this is where you can let yourself to feel envious :-) )

Our plans are to explore other meditation systems in Thailand, travel to the mountainous North, while making plans for our return journey. We are negotiating with some meditation centers in the USA and Canada as we hope to stay at a spiritual community upon our return: not forever (as there is no such thing anyway), but for a transition period-from the easy life of loafers to the seriousness of responsible adult existence.)

Thank you to all of you who continues to write and share stories, even at times when it feels there are no stories to share. There are always stories.

Hope you all are well and happy,

with love,

RupaNama complex
(previously called Misha)

Misha Gitberg
my visuals: http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/
my narratives:
http://journals.worldnomads.com/misha/

Happy New Year from Kathmandu

misha — Sun, 30 Dec 2007 19:40:00 GMT

Dear Friends and Family!

Have a Happy and Healthy New Year!

In 2008 may we all be peaceful, content and accepting of life's many tribulations!

My favorite saying these days is: "One can never discover new things without consenting to loose sight of familiar shores." I wish that we all discover new things in 2008!

Teodora and I have made it to Kathmandu, capital of Nepal, a small Himalayan kingdom,
the culture of which we just started learning about. Kathmandu is a huge market of many densely populated narrow dusty streets, where trade and prayer is happening in close quarters with each others, where ancient Hindu and Buddhist temples range in height from half a meter to overbearing heights, where overly zealous bicycle rickshaws also sell Hashish, where there is a large and competitive clothing industry selling colorful Nepalese cloths that are never worn by the locals,
where there are many orphanages, where the current King have murdered his whole family in 2001because they opposed his marriage, where.....Teodora and I will meat our New Year (mostly in quite reflection in our hotel room, but with a bottle of whine :-) ), where we will review and renew (RR) our marriage vows and chart our next 6 months of travel..

According to Teodora's and mine calculations, during our 6 months of travels we have actually spent together as much time as an average urban couple spends together in 10 years of marriage :-) and we are still madly in love! Right, Teodora?

At this junction in our travels everything seems to point towards continuing self-study of yoga and Buddhism as we have not met a perfect Guru or an inspiring teacher we could study with. While we at times speculate about reasons for this,
the fact remains and we have to rescue ourselves from the swamp of habit and ignorance :-)
which we firmly plan to continue doing during our self-created 10 days silent retreat at the Kopan monastery on January 2 (30 min from the center of Kathmandu). Then, on Jan 14 we will travel to Pochara, a supposedly peaceful lake side town, 6 hours away from Kathmandu, where we plan to volunteer and
practice yoga. After that we thinking of continuing on to Thailand for our winter vacation (yes, you read write, all travellers in India need a holiday! Our phantasy is warm and sunny Thailand beeches, where we hope to wash off all the dust, thaw our frozen limbs and soften all the hardships India had to offer. And then....and then...

If you still interested hearing our Russian Bards songs we have recorded just before leaving Toronto, here is a link to a few songs I have managed to transplant to Internet:

http://www.garageband.com/artist/misha_teodora/songs
you may need Adobe Flash MP3 player to have good sound.

Also, a few first pictures from Kathmandu are at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/

Enjoy!

Thank you soooo much to all of you who continue writing to us and remembering us.
Your letters mean alot, especially at times when we are filled with longing for familiar comforts and routine and all those homey things which can only be given their full appreciation in Asia! The slogan should read: come to Asia to renew your love for Motherland! (or Fatherland in some languages.)

Love to yo all,

Misha
Kathmandu, Nepal

Misha Gitberg
my visuals: http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/
my narratives:
http://journals.worldnomads.com/misha/

Indian letters 3: Bir, Amritsar, Haridwar

misha — Wed, 28 Nov 2007 18:43:00 GMT

Dear Friends and Family,

as I am writing this letter I have a dawning of a realization that most of you

have very little time for long letters. I imagine you looking at this letter sitting in your Inbox

with 100s of others and thinking whether you have enough time to read it between now and the next client/call/meeting/visit to the washroom. Of course I would like you to read it slowly and with full attention, while stretching out your legs and sipping on

a fragrant cuppa of tea, perhaps even covered with warm and fuzzy blanket or shawl, yet I know this scenario although desirable is unrealistic. So, just do your best. It has been great receiving replies from many of you and it has been helpful to have silent audience

of others. Some of you asked me specific questions about India and travelling, which resulted in the last two entries in my worldnomads blog (see "what is home" -reply to Felisa and "child labor"-repy to Lesli http://adventures.worldnomads.com/members/articles/). I do not think I would have written as much and reflected as much on my journey, be it not for all of you. So, thank you!

In the beginning of October Teodora and I left McLeod Ganj for Bir, a small Tibetan colony, 4 hours bu bus, where we participated in a one week conference-"Satori and the arts" at Deer Park, the institute, sponsored by Dzongzar Khyentse Rinpoche, Buddhist teacher from Butan.

While originally his three days teaching there was our main motivation, we both ended up mostly enjoying the arts- and what a yummy edition to our contemplative practice that was! Ikebana, Haiku writing, Japanese calligraphy, music, shiatsu and film to name a few. I even managed to get my hands on a potter's wheel! Very inspiring! Khyentse Rinpoche did not inspire us- he was funny and unorthodox for a Buddhist teacher from Asia, but his lack of orthodoxy was mostly in form-in essence, he in my view was not that different from an othodox Buddhist teacher. I am sure my opinion is rather superficial as we only heard him for three days, however for me, his presence was not particularly captivating (as compared for example with an amazingly clear and compassionate presence of Tenzin Palmo whose public speech we attended in McLeod Ganj- see Teodora's coverage on her blog: http://journals.worldnomads.com/tedigeorgieva/post/12044.aspx )

It is fascinating how various teachers appear so hugely different to students: we met one of the devoted students of Khentsye Rinpoche, who apparently waited for 12 years to be accepted by him. Wow, what a range-0 years (for me) and 12 years for her! Teodora wrote more about Guru shopping and associated disappointments in her "Guru Shopping" entry.

So in the absence of "my perfect teacher" I am exploring the art of learning from imperfect Gurus at present...as Tibetans say:

listen not to the Guru, but to his teaching

listen not to the words, but to the deeper meaning....

listen not to the deeper meaning, but to....

Bir was the quietest and the most charming place we visited so far: hazy blue silhouettes of close by mountains, brown and yellow terraced fields, blooming flowers of November,

shining gold of the rich many monasteries, red zens of monks and nuns, calm silvery chiming of monastery bells..(see flickr pictures of Bir at http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/72157603252719534/ )

And, of course hosts of colourful paragliders in the blues skies-it turned out that Bir is an international destination for Paraglders-there were many from Russia, Germany and France. I almost talked Teodora into taking a few lessons, but one day as we

ate our lunch at a roadside Dabha, a Russian paraglider hopped by on his new crutches, turning the balance of our decision towards more close to earth meditation.

While on occasion, we do form somewhat deeper connections with locals, more often we are bombarded by tourist industry. It was really good therefore to hang out with Indian people who are engaged in the arts-singers, film makers, poets, translators, students. Our exposure to Indian devotional poetry and film has definitely enriched our appreciation of Indian culture.

We rented a small room above the clothing store owned by a Tibetan family, just minutes from the Deer Park Institute itself. In our room was a real working TV set with sound and 70-odd programs! So after months of not watching TV, we were simultaneously hooked on Die Hard- like movies and repulsed. It seems that the Western entertainment is presented in its crudest form for mass consumption in India.

After Bir, we took a 6 hours bus to Amritsar,a city in a state of Punjab, just 30 km to the Indian-Pakistan border where daily change of the guard is a beautifully choreographed exchange of insults, is observed by crowds of onlookers from both sides. And of course Amritsar is a home to the famous Golden Temple, the place of pilgrimage for Sikhs. The Golden Temple was very impressive-not calm and meditative at all-it seems that in India places of worship do not need to be calm and meditative, in fact, around golden temple there is constant chanting and music coming through the loudspeakers; families with kids sleep, walk, eat, do ritual bathing in the pond of Amrita (nectar of immortality)

Through all this sensory overload, we still could appreciate the religious sentiment of many pilgrims, although after a sleepless night (we stayed in the Temple Complex for the night and enjoyed non-stop chanting and music), we were ready to look at my pictures of the Temple from a quieter place... (see Amritsar pictures on flickR: http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/72157603252840196/ )

Unlike at Istanbul mosques, entrance to Golden Temple is free, but what impressed me the most, is their 24 hours free communal kitchen, serving Dal (lentil stew), chapatis (flat bread) and sweets. All on simple metal plates (Thalis), on the floor mats. The kitchen is a complete miracle of efficiency-more then 30.000 people are fed here every day and the service is faster then at McDonald. It was very inspiring to see that such a grand act of generosity is possibly even in a country where millions are poor. Servers, dish washers, ushers, cooks are all volunteers, comprised of daily pilgrims who come not only to worship but also to serve.....

Surprisingly to us, Amritsar is somewhat out of the main tourist path and there are very few foreigners there. By implication, we were one of the attractions-Indians wanted to photograph us, ask us questions, such as "Where from?...Which country, Sir? What do you do in Canada?" and otherwise single us in a crowd. Only after reading a book "Being Indian" we began to appreciate the nature of most conversations-often Indian men would come to us and start boasting about their relatives in Canada, their jobs, their education, their connections etc..

According to this book, at a time where cast hierarchi is no longer visually descernable, Indians try to establish their relative power status early on in conversation, so that they can behave accordingly. Seemingly innocuous questions about job, place of residence, fluency in English, father's occupation are means of eliciting caste and power details. While reading this book I found many illuminating answers to previously puzzling encounters we had in India. For example, while walking in Shimla, we were approached by a friendly man who kept questioning us despite of our reluctance to reciprocate. He followed us to a small store, where he behaved as a host, pointing to locations of various products we needed, telling us that he is friends with the owner. While we shopped, he dragged out the owner who had a suspicious look on his face , introduced us as his "Canadian friends" and asked us to take a picture of him with the owner...

He continued pestering us on the way out, giving us his address and asking to send him this picture. I am pretty sure, he did not know the owner, but with some ingenuity tried to concoct a situation, where he may be seen in a respectful light of his doubly powerful "Canadian" and local business connection, with a picture of him smiling next to the shop owner for a future use where his powerful connections may need to be presented.

Most of the pictures of Amritsar you see on our flickR site are taken from a rickety cycle Riksha. One other highlight was an unplanned visit to a small but proud local Art Gallery, where 600 children of all ages formed colourful cross -legged serpantine rows. They came to partake in an art competition, on Children's Day commemorating Jewaharlal. Nehru, India's Prime Minister- successor to Mahatma Gandhi. It is always amazing to us to see how patiently even small kids can focus for hours ( 4 hours in this case), producing very interesting in many cases drawings, full of colour and intricate details.

We fled intensity of Amritsar on a night "first class " (ha-ha) train to Haridwar (try aspirating H and rolling Rs with gusto and you will feel the essence of this place)-another out of the tourist path place of pilgrimage on the Ganges (close to where Ganges emerges from the Himalayas and where according to the legend Lord Krishna has left his foot prints) Dust, noise, pollution, dense crowds were part of the experience here too.

The Ganges flow was incredibly fast here as we observed on our long walk along the many Ghats where pilgrims bathed, washed their clothes, their dishes, prayed, where many Sadhus (Holly Men) camped, some of them adept at selling Hashish.. In an overpopulated country like India, one must learn skills of selective attention ( or selective inattention)- one can marvel how a pilgrim can be completely immersed in a sacred ritual of bathing in the Ganges, deep in prayer, while completely ignoring the dirt and pollution surrounding him.

In the evening, the crowds culminated at a holiest point between two bridges ( please do not ask me to remember its name.), where pilgrims set afloat many hand made lief baskets of lit candles and flowers-offerings in Aart ceremony. Because of the fast flow of Ganges, the baskets toppled alot, however, the short moments of magic sparkled the night here and there.

Indian man who spent some years living in Switzerland and watched Aarti ceremony with us, told us that Indians were basically good ad that despite the fact that many try taking advantage of foreigners, they would never harm us. He then explained to us that scientists can not explain how the waters taken from this Holiest segment of the Ganges remain fresh for 500 years. We were doubtful, therefore, decided to run this experiment ourselves-will report back in 500 years-stay tuned!

Rishikesh-the yoga capital of the world- is where I am writing this letter from. If you expect to find serenity, clean air and noise free environment, stop reading right now!

Rishikesh was the place where we now doubt weakened by pollution and noise, have succumbed to cold and cough and to our so far lowest point ( in mood terms) in India. Suddenly all the harshness of travelling in India, instead of being support to our spiritual practice and self-learning, turned into "Bad India Days", a term coined by foreigners, which

attempts to describe a point where your previously bravely held cheerfulness collapses i the face of too much adversity. Now when we have recovered and are in good hands of "Mama", an owner of a Guest House we really like, we begin to nurture once again a cautiously more inspired outlook on India :-)

Mama cooks amazingly tasty Thalis (combo meals and great Masala Chai at embarrassingly low prices-we can stay here for 100 years before our money run out!

I am wishing you all good health and contentment in this stressful and busy times

leading to X-mas and New Year.

Be happy!

Misha

Misha Gitberg
my visuals: http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/
my narratives:
http://journals.worldnomads.com/misha/

For those of you who are still sipping on your fragrant tea, here is a copy of Teodora's last letter:

Dear Friends,

the title of this letter may surprise you, but as I and Misha recently discovered, for four months we had managed to travel in India and ovoid the Indian. Dharamsala, Ladakh and Bir ( read about it on my travel blog : http://journals.worldnomads.com/tedigeorgieva/post/12044.aspx )

were predominantly Tibetan, and the Indian flavour we experienced was very little if at all enough to give us a taste of what was to come.

And what came was the "muchness" of this vast land, and "muchness" is the only word that describes it for me. There are sounds and noises, collours and shapes, faiths and beliefs,people, people and when the buss is full, even more people...and all of it much...too much :-)

We are in Rishikesh, which proudly takes its place on the tourist Indian map as the "yoga capital of the world" ( just too much to say). In reality, it is just a tourist hub, only here every fifth Indian (an exaggeration of course) has a yoga or and ayurvedic massage studio (another exaggeration: the studio is most of the times a tiny dark room with moldy floor and a dozen of soiled yoga mats). Similarly to the neighboring Haridwar we visited on the way here, it is also a Hindu pilgrimage city and boils with hundreds of Indians eager to bathe in the Ganges, ring temple bells or just enjoy the nudge of the weekend crowds.

The air is almost as polluted as in Amritsar (a one day visit you can also read about on my blog: http://journals.worldnomads.com/tedigeorgieva/post/12084.aspx ), so we have limited our walks to a minimum: yoga - lunch - Internet. After 10 days of searching for a quiet place to stay, which included the transportation of our backpacks and ourselves on two motorbikes ( the driver and the two of us on one of them!), we found a quaint place looked after by a petite Indian lady, who calls herself "mama" and looks like she lives up to her name.

It seems like the cultural shock we've been expecting since we arrived to India is finally happening and we are grateful to have each other to share this profoundly different world. We find it curious, annoying and amusing at the same time to wonder why the devotional fervor here easily co-exists with scam and corruption, or why our waiter insists on seeing cheese in the sandwich while looking at a peace of almost dry toast, or why it is considered acceptable to ask such questions as "what is your salary" at first encounter, or why in country where living is often a fight for survival people are incurably full of hope and benevolence... In attempt to solve some of the puzzle, I and Misha are devouring a list of books recommended to us by a couple of International Politics students from Delhi, who we met at the art conference in Bir.

One of the reads "Being Indian" by P.Varma suggests that in 21st century every sixth person will be an Indian, so learning about this ancient culture seems only prudent :-)

Besides nurturing our travel "wounds" we are also exploring the yoga market here. So far I have greatly enjoyed a class given by a British instructor in the round building of the Kria Yoga Ashram. Her calm and flowing vocalisations have made the practice harmonious and wholesome, unlike many other classes I've taken which remain just sequences of different postures.

The Indian teachers we've checked out so far have been of the "do it like me" type, where you have to copy the shown assana (posture) often with very little information on body alignment or breath. I am starting to suspect that this is a deeply Asian style of teaching: the teacher demonstrates - the student repeats....with blind faith, devotion, and reverence.

On the positive side, the student develops discipline and perseverance...

To explore the above theory and to challenge my rigid training I am planning to take some vocal lessons at the nearest music studio. On this note, music in India is an inseparable part of everyday life. People just burst out singing as they walk, work or rest. In Ladakh, our hosts had a song for every activity, be that cooking or ploughing the fields. The last one was my favourite: when for the first time I heard the simple call on a fourth up and then a gentle slide on a fifth down, I thought a professional singer was practicing warm ups on fresh air :-) To add to this phenomenon of singing voices, imagine singing men! I can see my choral colleagues always famishing for male voices in their choirs overwhelmed with longing and jealousy :-) Yes, men sing here, sing beautifully, everywhere: Misha's barbers sing (not in harmony but in tune), our Yoga teachers sing resonantly and with feeling, porters sing, cooks sing.... The intricate tunes they produce with ease and grace fascinate and inspire me.

Stay tuned for my Indian singing progress chart :-) already from Nepal, our next destination.

Meanwhile I would like to wish all of you a peaceful and relaxed preparation for the approaching winter holidays, and to my colleagues - fulfilment and joy from the upcoming concerts, and most importantly, gratitude to yourselves and people you work with for the immeasurable love and happiness you bring to the world through the art of music!

Thank you for your warm homey letters!

Much love,

Teodora

P.S.: Check out Misha's flickr : http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/

and his blog http://journals.worldnomads.com/misha/

Indian letters 2

misha — Mon, 26 Nov 2007 19:51:00 GMT

Dear Family and Friends,

we are back at  Dharamsala (from Ladakh) and just finished the 10 days retreat at Tushita monastery. It  was fruitful yet challenging as I struggled with a very traditional Buddhist discourse (even though it was taught by a Western Buddhist nun).  After a certain amount of struggle with Buddhist traditional teachings on no-self, non-attachment, abandoning anger and desire- in their rather all-or-nothing exposition, I was glad to find a book in the library (Buddhist practice on Western ground, by Harvey Aronson), which saved me at least 10 years of confusion by building more delicate bridges between East and West, between differences in culture and imperfections of translation.  Highly recommended!

We are staying in Dharamkot, a small and quiet village above Mc Leod Ganj, just 5 min walk from both Tushita and Vipassana centres.  It is favored by Israelis and boasts not one but two Chabad houses ( Jewish Orthodox group)- this morning, despite of my declaration
of non-Jewishness, Teodora and I were invited for Kabalat Shabat, a celebration of Shabas.

We are planning to stay here for another week to hear a talk by Tenzin Palmo , a Western Buddhist nun, who is famous for her forward teaching style and her Buddhist resume, which includes meditating in a cave for 13 years.

Then we will go to Bir ( a small Tibetan colony 4 hours from Dharamsala) to attend a conference on Buddhism and the arts. and then....and then...

Please see the two new sets of pictures from Ladakh:

monasteries and views of Leh (capital of Ladakh)

http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/72157602394853100/detail/

and our 9 days trek in Markha Valley, Ladakh:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/72157602611284180/detail/

and to check out my travel picto-stories go to:

http://adventures.worldnomads.com/members/articles/default.aspx

I am also attaching Teodora's last letter describing our adventure in Ladakh and if you wish to view our travels from her delightful perspective, go to:

http://journals.worldnomads.com/tedigeorgieva/

Love and hugs to you all,

Misha

child labor-reply to Lesli

misha — Sun, 25 Nov 2007 01:26:00 GMT

In terms of child labor, it is hard to figure out how it works without knowing the customs and language.

It seems that many Tibetan and Indian families hire a child, usually 8-15 years old to be a servant, which is a 24/7 kind of duty. These children do everything around the house: from cooking and cleaning to babysitting and chasing monkeys away, to looking after the renters. It is prestigous to have a servant and status of the family may be descerned by the number of servants they have. Children come from the poorest states, such as Bihar and Orissa, where 50 percent or more live in poverty by Indian standards, so in a way they are fortunate to earn something. They usually work on 2-3 years contract for one employer. Is is hard to tell what their treatment is, so far we have not seen anyone of these children looking terrible or fatigued, but that may be the surface...

apparently government has passed the law last year forbidding to hire children younger then 14, but it appears to be just a gesture..if there is no money in the family, how can this children not work or go to school?

in general it is hard to say who is who-you see small kids minding small tea, grocery stalls etc-they could be hired help, or they could be helping their parents in their buseness. We were told that it happens often that an unpayed financial loan can be repayed in years of child's labor, so some families send thier children to work early.

Of course these children do not go to schools, yet they may have other opportunities available to them, such as learning a trade, learning some English etc, but how much this can change their life is not clear....

It is also common for Indian children to learn family trade very early in life-6-7-year old become barbers, drivers, etc. The barber who shaved me last time was 24 and he already has 18 years of experience!

we have also seen many poor families from Nepal, that come to work in road and building construction sites in India. They come as a family unit, so children are around as they shovel, carry etc, but they are not seem to be asked to produce like adults, it seems they play around adults...

In Ladakhi villages, it is common for everyone, old and young to be on the fields and not in school during the harvest, but the children get easy duties, like fetching things, serving tea etc.

so hear are a few thoughts and observations -I am sure we will find out more as we travel along..

Indian letters 1

misha — Sat, 24 Nov 2007 19:55:00 GMT

Dear Friends and Family,

I am writing from India, yes! Teodora and I have made it here!

For those of you with whom I have not been in touch after my 6 months at the Gampo Abbey, I will provide a brief report of my last 9 months in Toronto.

It was very interesting to come back to TO after six months in retreat--to my surprise. the noise, speed and pollution of the city did not affect me much.well, at least initially; nothing perturbed my equilibrium. However, three months down the road,

I needed ear plugs to sleep. The discipline of daily meditation has gradually eroded too. Nonetheless, it was wonderful time to

reconnect with friends and family, to deepen my relationships and to experiment with various jobs and projects during this time.

My first job in Toronto was to look after my friend's little art gallery, which was lots of fun and included walking my ex-dog Isa (thanks Bailey for this opportunity and for adopting the beast!)
Another job was selling organic soups and salads at the Big Carrot, an organic co-op, where I have met many cool people of all ages-Tibetans, art students, yoga teachers and the likes... the customers were mostly fun and discriminating group of Riverdalers with whom I could have great conversations while enticing them to organic delicacies... I very much enjoyed talking to people without therapizing them..It was a great practice for loosening my ego, as I kept meeting former clients and colleagues to whom I had to present my new face.

see me offering free soup samples:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/1302742580/

I was also involved in a great project of helping to start a spiritual support for the dying project at the Toronto Hospice (Thanks Kanae for introducing me to these great place!)

It was so precious for me to be able to share my experience and new learnings with this very enthusiastic and lovely group of staff and volunteers! I was also honoured to help them create a ritual for acknowledging deaths, which they can do as a group. (see the write up attached at the end) I have been exploring rituals lately and found them (when created with openness and sincerity) to be of incredible value!

The main highlight of the last few months was Teodora and mine marriage-yes, my bachelor days are over!

we had a small spiritual ceremony at the Shambhala Centre in Toronto and were very fortunate to share it with people we love!.

It was a very meaningful process for both of us: writing our vows or as we called them "aspirations", and composing the ceremony, contemplating the meaning of our life together, our hopes and fears of sharing our life.

You can view our wedding pictures and commentaries to them here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/72157600079205815/detail/

Also, just before leaving Toronto for India, Teodora and I have recorded a CD of Russian songs (I have not transcended my boastfulness yet :-), which we were very pleased with. It was a one time recording, using my small lap-top
and two mics rented from Long and McQuade in Toronto.

Everything takes ages to down or upload in this part of India, so stay tuned for a few samples of our songs..

Lastly, I managed to do some paintings and sell two pieces to my friends (thank you Shari and Eva for supporting my budding talent!)

Here are some of my new (and recent) chedevres:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/72157601948016767/detail/

Over all these last 9 months in Toronto were very fruitful. Although there was a spirit of adventure and novelty for me, it was often

strange to be in this phase of weightlessness, not knowing exactly where my path will lead, what job I will settle with, where will Teodora and I live upon our return, what direction will crystallize, and when?

Many people have asked me about my plans for India, what exactly am I going to do here, what will I bring back, and how will use "it" in the West?

I think ultimately these questions come from fear of life's openness and bounty. It has become more and more clear to me. For the safety- lovng part of us, the open space of life, its unpredictability and impermanence is unbearably frightening. Most of us come close to experiencing this fear when our routine breaks down and we suddenly find our feet in the air....for some, this fear is uncovered when, the inner necessity of change is powerful enough to make us enter this undefined and intuitive space.

Giving up my job, going to the Monastery, experimenting with various new jobs, travelling, I certainly face this fear, yet, which is incredibly fortunate, I have also came to experince life as fresh, exciting, deep and mysterious, full of serendipitous events, pregnant with possibilities.

India is a place when you can let this ancient, modern, rich and poor, complex and exotic environment work on you, as the sea works on something hard to smooth it into a new shape. Did I mention surrender? This is an ideal place for learning it. (more to come)

Anxieties are there, in various dose at different times, but what also there, is a sense of liberation, a sense of my identity being less rigidly defined, and therefore being more open, more open to becoming or more precisely -more open to being!

In this new found openness, there is less of my face to save, less need to know exactly when and how...and also a retrospective awareness of how much energy and effort it took in the past to maintain some kind of Face.

Now Teodora and I are in Northern India, Dharamsala, where we plan to spend the next few months till December (when we travel to Nepal to renew our Indian visa and study Buddhism) We are very happy to be settled for a while after the whole months of travelling in Europe (about it later) and getting over culture shock in Delhi and on the way here.

"Settled " in Dharamsala includes being on a side (or main) trip to Leh, Ladakh (small area on the border with China and Tibet. Amazing! This is as close to Tibetan culture as one can get these days (and two long days by bus away from Dharamsala). The mountains simply explode my mind!

Teodora and I are still terribly in love with each other, which is wonderful considering that we have been married for the whole 5 months already! :-)

There are so many impressions from India and Europe, that I will have to write another letter...soon.

If you would like to be removed from this list, please send me an e-mail with remove in the heading.

Although it is hard to write to all of you individually, I would love to hear back from you
about your life. This way I tell you a story, and you will tell me yours.

May you be happy!

Misha
Leh,
Ladakh
India
Sep, 2007

Ritual of Honoring the Dead

1. establish a quite place, minimize disruptions, prepare candle, lighter etc (may be
a card with a name of the person to lean against the candle)
Place chairs in a circle. Consider the use of music, incense or anything else that
may enhance the quality of your experience. Agree in advance on who is leading the ceremony
(keeping timing, doing the reading etc)

2. sit quietly for 1-5minutes flowing your breath, allowing mind to settle, body to relax

3. light the candle and ask coordinators to say a few brief words about the person who is been honored
in the ceremony ( may include personal reactions, whatever they may be)

4. Reading

What is borne will die
What has been gathered will be dispersed
What has been accumulated will be exhausted
What has been built up will collapse
And what has been high will be brought low
(from Tibetan Buddhist tradition)

By honoring (name of a person (s) ) we honor death as inevitable part of life's cycle.

We honor X's life, everything in it, his/her joy, pain, the bright and the dark:
all the mystery that is involved in X being born, growing into an adult, turning old and passing away.

We use the event of X's death to remind us about impermanence and preciousness of life.

We too will follow her one day.

We hope that our lives will nourish and meaningfully touch people around us,
so that when time comes to die, our hearts are in peace.

We are sending our support and compassion to X's family and friends.

When we put out this candle, X, we let you go......

5. Blow off the candle

6. sitting silently for 3-5 minutes to absorb, embody the experience, to mark the transition back to the next activity..

sense of home-excerpt from letter to Felisa

misha — Sat, 24 Nov 2007 19:33:00 GMT

....letters from my friends are part of my connection with "home", even though the sense of home , you are right, is very fuzzy at the moment:

at times it is memories of our previous orderly and comfortable but stressful lives, (Teodora often misses our kitchen where we could cook for ourselves), memories of good times with friends, sometimes it is fantasies about where to settle upon our return to Canada (East or West?) and what kind of life we would want;

at other times we are able to be comfortable with a sense of home that is not defined so much by a geographical location or some routine, or a group of people surrounding us, but is more defined by our inner enthusiasm for learning, exciting experiences and promises of self-development.

I think it may be easier to have an inner experience of home in a psychological or spiritual sense especially in the absence of stable physical environment, in the absence of stable routine.

It is also a challenging experience for me to attempt to feel at home in the country altogether vastly different from anything I have ever experienced before; it is definitely a learning- finding a way to meet a culture we do not really understand with a degree of acceptance, appreciation and kinship ( we are all humans after all!) The biggest challenge for me (Teodora is much braver in this regard)

are monkeys, who keep snaring at me bloodthirstily :-)

Of course, we are home to each other as we move through so many foreign terrains. We are fortunate to be very compatible travellers, enjoying many mutual interests and resonating in terms of energy and needs. For example, we both enjoy quiet times and do not need to rush to experience things (as much as I used to rush and push in my past; nowdays we are happy to allow things to unfold.

May be because for some of our friends we became a symbol of living an exciting life, which is of course a bit idealistic, people often write to us about how busy, stressful or uninspired their life is.

Some people do not write perhaps for the same reason.. May be in part due to that and also because of still fresh memories of our busy life in Toronto, we have no regrets (I checked with Teodora yesterday ) about our decision to travel. "Regret" does not even enter my mind. For sure, there are many uninspiring moments of travelling-dirt, aggressive sale, tiring bus rides, poor yoga and Buddhist teachers, disillusionment with "spiritual" India etc, yet the enormous luxury of time, space, novelty has been amazing.

It has been an enormous gift for both of us to have this time to learn about ourselves, each other, us as a couple, reflect about our roots, Canadian culture, our life style and previous aspirations aganst the backdrop of India. It is funny, but the strongest fear that comes up for me at this stage, is the fear of returning to the life I had before. I just cannot imagine anymore the inhumane speed, the politics, the amount of pressures, the lack of spiritual. I think it will take a few years for me before I am able to shed my identity of a psychotherapist, yet it is clear to me that I am not missing a bit having therapy practice-it is increasingly clear to me-I had enough of that. Well at least for a loooong now. So, with this realization, comes a question-what is next?

I think the biggest gift of our situation is that we do not have to push ourselves into some new hastily manufactured mold, new career, new business, but have some time to play, to fantasize, to try a few things (like photography, writing, yoga etc) and to begin to learn about which phantasy come as a response to fear of survival (what will we do when we back in Canada and have little money?) You may laugh as one attempt to answer this fear was at some point to buy four expensive Pashmina shawls to sell in Canada...anyways, whether it is fear or not, the phantasies so far for me revolve around teaching meditation and yoga as ways of helping people to integrate spirituality in to their life, and creative things-photography, writing, music, painting etc..

It was very exciting for me to explore connection between arts and meditation at the conference in Bir, where I indulged in Calligraphy, Ikebana, Hailku writing and even had my hands on a potter's wheel!!! It seems I could play with all those yummy arts for hours on end.

perhaps, just like a turtle is bound to grow a new shell, the exact replica of the old one, all my

experiments will ironocally terminate in some replication of my previous external circumstances. Although it does sound pessimistic, and of course my hope is for a radically different life style and a sense of home, even in the "same old shell" scenario, I would like to imagine that the inner experience of having lived in fluid waters for a while, will affect the new stage of ossification. Time will tell...

side note on Donkeys

misha — Tue, 9 Oct 2007 22:56:00 GMT

Cows and donkeys go slowly about their business in Leh. Unlike in the villages, they have no tags, no bells, nobody is herding them. Here they have achieved true Independence.

Cows are large with prominent and protruding architecture of carcas-they are the meditative ships of the road with large wiry eye-lashes. There are also dzos, black and shaggy hybrids of yaks and cows..

The donkeys are charming and small, like mountain horses. They are more modest then cows, they cling to the edge of the road, in groups of two or three, delicately lining up to pass in the narrow spaces between the stone walls and the cars..

These animals, always a part of human and car traffic, and a few remaining old Ladakhis, who slowly walk around with their prayer beads and /or prayer wheels in hands-
they all slow the time for all of us who are speeding to get somewhere, to be something. Through their large and vacant eyes the eternity is looking at us..

When we walk home in the dark, once in a while our torch shine on a group of black cows or donkeys, quitely sleeping along the side of the road. They are just as calm and meditative in the dark..it is like passing a ship at dark sea...

lunar mountains of Ladakh

misha — Mon, 8 Oct 2007 22:58:00 GMT

Leh is a capital of Ladakh, spread out in the valley, surrounded by high snow peaked mountains. Since we came here, the peaks grow progressively whiter and more brilliant. There are ruins of the King's palace and an ancient Tsemo Gompa (monastery) above it, dominating the town from above.

Outside a handful of main roads, lined up with exorbitant for a such a small place
number of Kashmiri and Ladakhi shops,selling carpets, jewelry, traditional cloths etc, travel agencies, arranging mountain trekking and trips to nearby monasteries; and Internet locations, which are very slow, with the connection often being rather mercy... so, outside of all these, they are small barley and potato fields, narrow winding streets, stone walls and myriads of cold mountain streams gurgling along.

Ladakhis have developed an amazing irrigation system, which very efficiently collects mounatin water and brings it to the otherwise dry fields.

We stay at a little village called Chungspa, about 15 min walk from Leh. Our guest house called Shanti has its own little stream just outside the front door, lovely garden and all around mountain views.

Leh along with Dharamsala (and Himachal Pradesh state) has introduced many great environmental policies, e.g. banning the use of plastic bags ( favourite amongst local cows). These policies however are not sufficient to protect this area from rapidly encroaching civilization. The cold mountain streams for example are used for laundry and collect all sort of garbage. Not long ago one could safely drink from them....

Since 1974, when the roads connected this remote area to the mainland India, the flood of tourists, Indian businesses and various modern developers have been threatening the environment and culture. As Helen Norberg-Hodge described in her book (and a movie); "Ladakh, the ancient futures!", Ladakhi culture was unprepared to meet these modern developers. One blatant example would be the use of former
DDT containers as salt shakers, or baking on asbestos stoves...

Worse then that, within a short period of time,a traditional way of life began to die..

Encounters with market economy and subsidized agriculture in India made local agricultural production nearly useless and made local people dependant on the larger market economy. Encounters with tourists who appear "rich" and "superior"
to Ladakhis, as well as images of Hollywood and Bollywood, have all contributed to Ladakhis beginning to feel ashamed of their culture. Helen Norberg-Hodge (honored with Nobel price for her efforts in Ladakh) has focused on mitigating these unfortunate effects of "modernization", helping Ldakhis see the West more realistically, while appreciating the wealth of their own unique culture as they enter
market economy.

At 3300meters, the air in Leh is very thin, so even after our shortage of breath and headaches were gone after a few days here, we are still gasping for extra breath here and there. The air is also very dry, cracking our lips, heals, drying our skin, despite all the lubricants we put on.

We are at the end of the tourist season, which makes this place much quieter.
The colours are stunning: golden barley fields, yellowing trees, deep blue and constantly sunny skies, white mountain peaks, yellow, blue, black color of mountains, depending on the way the sun lights them up.

After 9 days of strenuous trekking through the mountain villages and passes, we spend our days more quietly, having long breakfasts, reading and journaling, meditating, doing yoga...

Dolkar and Tsering are our hosts at Shanti guest house. Tsering was mostly away guiding trekkers (the most common occupation amongst men in Ladkh). Dolkar is always in the kitchen-cooking, knitting, preparing something, or by the stream, doing laundry. May be because of her limited English, or because of the Ladakhi language itself, she always sings to us as: Aye, Jule-Jule, ju-ju-ju-ju-ju, , dona-le-dona-le, hah-ha-ha-ha(she loughs)
Jule is "hello, thank you, good buy, please-a good word to know!). Dona-le=eat please, she says when she brings us steaming Cambir, chewy Ladakhi bread,
butter and yummy local apricot jam.
Depending on the weather we may have breakfast either in the garden or in the traditional Ladakhi kitchen room. In the garden we are amidst humongous marigolds, lit like lanterns by the bright morning sun, and some red and yellow flowers which I cannot identify..I marvel at the contrasts of gold and red in the garden,
blue of the sky and brilliant white atop the mountains..all in one picture (the picture is coming..)
In the "kitchen" we sit cross-legged at colourful and low Ladakhi tables, placed around the room: often there are some other tourists with whom we converse, but these days we are more likely to be alone here...

I have asked Dolkar to show us how she makes Cambir, the bread. She lets us into her small working kitchen where she sits on the floor by a small gas stove.
She makes small patties our of the whole grain wheat dour she prepared the night before, and places them onto the hot flat stone on the stove. When the patty is baked to her satisfaction, she holds it over the open flame until its surface turn brown and the bread starts to puff like some round blow fish.
When she serves these puffed round globes in the morning and we break them apart, the warm steamy warmth is released into our cold hands..
yes, the nights and mornings are rather cold (+5-+8 centigrades) and we do not anywhere without our yak wool shawls....

see pictures of Leh, Markha Valley trek and monasteries at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/72157602394853100/detail/

http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/72157602611284180/detail/

http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/72157602392633176/detail/

Smiles of India

misha — Mon, 8 Oct 2007 16:39:00 GMT

Smiles of India

People here smile. Not everyone, not all the time, but often enough to notice. Their smile seems different from smiles of Eastern Europeans, who's smiles often have a conflicted, self-conscious and sarcastic nature.

Their smiles are also different from the smiles of North America, where smiling is often a superficial ritual, a kind of socially useful facial gymnastics.

People here seem to have their smiles spreading from the very center of their being, from their heart. Almost child-like, undefended, no holding back...

In Dharamsala you can experience luminous smiles of old Tibetans, who when greeted with "Tashi Delek!" (Hello, How are you!), bath you in their generous smiles.

Walking along the streets you may see an Indian shop keeper, squatting in front of his shop, intently looking into distance, out of the troubled history of India, his eye brows knitted together, his look is hard and intense. Yet, if you make an eye contact and smile, the widest and very genuine smiles would often flood his face.. Somehow the harsh and the soft coexist in him side by side..both gaining full expression.

Often they do not smile at you first (after all, "foreigner" we were told is a dirty word in India), but in my experience they almost inevitable respond to my small smiling initiatives.

Meeting people

misha — Sat, 6 Oct 2007 21:51:00 GMT

One of the great joys in our travels is meeting new people, other travellers like us.
Story upon story gradually make their imprint on me. Young singles and couples, couples with children, people in the 60s and 70s, whether single or couples-all gladly reveal their stories of transition in life, their pains, their search. Collectively they break down any preconceived notion or stereotype about transitions, travels, when one should sell everything and drift, at what age, "correct"ways it can be done.

India it seems has become a strange refuge, short- and long-term, and even a permanent home (as far as any permanency goes) for spiritual seekers, grieving souls, burned out social workers, therapists and nurses, freelance writers and the retired from the West.

Teodora and I no longer wait for a astonished response when we say to people that we have given up our jobs and are travelling for about one year. In fact it sounds pretty lame here. Too often, we hear in response: "..gave up my job and am travelling indefinitely..or for 3,4,8 years etc"

Bob, a heavily embellished with spiritual tattoos and prayer beads social worker from LA, where he worked with the inner city youth, has been searching for enlightenment from "too many gurus" fro 3 years. He may return to the US when Bush steps down from power.

Maggie, a free-lance writer and "Indologist at large" has been away from her home in the US for 4 years. She is writing a coverage of the unreported in press visit by the Dali Lama to Leh, Ladakh, where he was asked to mediate between the Muslim and Buddhist communities.

In Dharamsala, we had a few meals with a lovely young couple from Australia and their charming 4 years old boy. They have decided to settle in Varanasi. Their dream is to be able to offer a safe spiritual heaven in this extremely intense place for seekers of all persuasions.

Ellen, a very talkative retired science teacher from New York,travelled around the world for eight years. She is in her 60s now and came to Ladakh to help with a NGO project in rural villages.

Rita, a retired Israeli woman in her 70s came to India with a friend, both are travelling indefinitely , taking meditation courses and just hanging out.

A young doctor from Germany, Goenke and an American midwife Rondi, are travelling after one year project in Asam ( North-East India) with the Doctors without Borders.

Sabina, a funky middle aged woman from New Zealand gave up her job to come to India "for indefinite period"-she got a six months volunteer job at the office of Tushita Monastery.

The list is long and is growing... It is as if we came to India not only meet this diverse and complex culture but to meet the whole world, which came closer to us, opened up its five continents and its unimaginable mix of people who brew their life and travel stories together. Each story is told through the accents of so many countries: all unique and yet very similar in essence: travelling is a way of discovering and rediscovering yourself, giving yourself a dose of fresh blood potion, concocted on the roads of the World; healing your pains, boredom, stagnation, recovering your passions, opening your senses to this precious and beautiful, troubled and needy vast world of ours.

I think if one is ready for deep change, immersing yourself in this undefined and complex soup of long-term travel is the best recipe. Do not buy a return ticket, because there is no return to the past. Set yourself adrift and you will arrive safely to where you need to be.
It is a good way to learn to trust Life as its hand guides you from a story to story, from a person to person, from hope and despair to a wider vision than the one that held you tight before.... you just pack lightly........

Ode to the Indian toilette

misha — Sat, 6 Oct 2007 21:48:00 GMT

Ode to Indian squat toilette

For those of you who have undying interest in toilette activities-I say: rest assured. Any experience of Indian culture is not complete without the experience of this age old routine, renewed daily.

Considering high density of population in India,toilets are sparse. Some of them can easily escape an untrained Western eye as they may be located on the railroad tracks, on the open rooftops under construction, or better yet, by the open gutter at the side of streets. (I am yet to see women use open gutters or area to the side of the road as toilets, Hindu men however can frequently be sited urinating on rocks, doors, walls, delicately turning their backs towards dense human (and animal) traffic.

Indoor toilet is an art of ancient wisdom and precise engineering.

Its main components are: a small ceramic platform with two shoe-shaped locations for both feet with a hole located at the mid-back. There may or may not be a flush box connected.

The technique:
(based on two months of personal experience as it was impossible to locate any description of this in traditional Indian annals)

1. step with both feet onto the designated for the feet platforms

2. roll up bottom of your pents (or raise your skirt) to knee level-this step is important to prevent your clothes from coming into intimate contact with usually wet and dirty floors.

3, lower the top part of your pents (skirt) to knee level, while bending your knees and squatting in such a way that your rear is hanging directly above the designated hole
( at this point your pents/skirt is gathered around your knees)

The simple yet profound wisdom of such squatting position is threefold at the very least:

-it is great for strengthening leg,thighs muscles

-it eliminates straining as knees provide sufficient pressure on the abdomen

- it eliminates any desire for extra entertainment such as reading newspapers or novels, singing etc (mainly because all available energy goes towards keeping yourself from collapsing into the hole)

4. When evacuation is complete, or judged to be complete, search for a small water tap, usually located to the right of the toilette near the floor, and a small plastic water jug, usually a dirty plastic water jug (at times inventively substituted with old metal can; or can be absent)
With a gracious movement of your right hand, open the tap, po uring enough water into the jug.

5. While still maintaining good balance in the squatting position and preventing your cloths from dropping to the floor or into the hole, with your right hand bring the water jug to the back of your ready to face cold water Rear. Our the water, while with your left hand (and this requires good coordination)
you try catching the trickling stream of water sent forth by your right hand, and clean..and clean some more (repeat as desired). Now you may understand why it is considered extremely rude to stretch out left hand for greetings.

This process is considered (and it is) more hygienic then the use of toilet paper in the West, which is doomed by Indians to be simply disgusting.
One thing to watch here is the inadvertent raising of the upper lip, thus deepening of the naso-labial fold. Realizing that was the case with my face, and not wanting to permanently imprint such expression, I make a special effort to relax my upper lip (to what extent I have succeeded you can judge from the pictures of me throughout our travels in India)

6. Step 5 solves one problem, but it creates another one:
now our left hand is in a somewhat compromised position. You are in luck if you can locate a sliver of soup placed by some caring hand on the window sill or elsewhere in vicinity. If your karma does not allow you to rejoice with a piece of soap in your hands, it becomes your sole responsibility to either carry a bottle of hand sanitizer, or locate a place to wash nearby. If the former and latter are not possible, avoid using your left hand until the time its purity can be restored with soap and water.

7. I advise you to either wait until the last drop of water rolls happily off your behind, or use toilette paper to dry so your underwear remains intact (this is vital during monsoon season when drying time can be extended to hours if not days..)

If when reading this you are recoiling in shock or thinking that no amount of practice can help you, you are wrong!
In the last two months, to my total surprise, I have not only mastered the above technique, I have grown to prefer Indian-style toilette to its Western brother.(wherever the choice presents itself) Of course I am not any longer up to date on current news or bestselling novels, but it is a sacrifice I gladly make!

Additional note: in the Himalayas, there is an added charm of some stunning views revealing themselves from toilette windows. Yet, it would be wrong of me to recommend toilets on the bases of their beautiful vistas.

Manali and Vashisht

misha — Wed, 5 Sep 2007 00:28:00 GMT

views from the rooftop at our small hotel...

Small and ancient Siva temple in the centre of the village..it has a bath complex with hot sping water..

Kulu (one of the Himalayan tribes) woman we met on the road to Manali.. Local woman making a few rupees by posing with her angora rabbit

Kulu men in Manali a street in Manali

you can view complete set of pictures at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/72157601962788127/detail/

Vipassana 10 day course

misha — Thu, 16 Aug 2007 16:22:00 GMT

After doing 2 days retreat at Tushita Monastery, with some trepidation we signed up for 10 days Vipassana retreat. The course's description sounded very serious (and as we found out , accurate): waking up at 4:30am, meditating for 11 hours daily, complete silence.
Amazing that the retreat is completely free (to give one an experience of monastic life where one is living off the kindness of others), but people are encouraged to give donations if they feel any benefit.

The teaching is transmitted via video-recording of talks given by Goenka, a Burmese
businessman turned meditation master. He was a student of famous meditation master in Burma, U Ba Khin. Apparently, he came to India with a purpose to teach Vipassana to his ailing mother, but ended up teaching relatives, friends, friends of friends and so on for the next 30odd years as interest in Vipassana in India was
rapidly growing. The retreat is very ambitious-to give people a solid foundation of Vipassana practice, which I think they accomplish brilliantly. Although being charismatic and radiant, Goenka tested our nerves with his horrible chanting, which sounded like sounds of simultaneously constipated and hoarse elephant. His absolute confidence In the techniques and charisma were however contagious.

First 5 days we basically has to concentrate on sensation in the small area under the nose, above upper lip. Nothing new and exciting was happening and a few people dropped out.. In the evenings, Goenka would appear on the TV screen (there were Hebrew subtitles, so I had a chance to brush up my Hebrew as well-double bonus!), always with: " Now, you have completed day 1 (2,3,4,etc). Day 1 (2,3,.etc) is a very important day! There is 9,8,7 etc) days are left to go."

The rational behind the initial technique was to sensitize the mind to very subtle physical sensations. Why sensations? Goenka claims that Burmese have preserved in original purity the teachings of Buddha which had to do with obtaining freedom from craving and aversion by developing awareness of and equanimity towards pleasant and unpleasant sensations in the body. According to him, Buddha's original contribution was that our deep (unconscious, because it is untrained) does not directly respond to outside objects, but it responds with desire or aversion to sensations in the body (which arise in response to external stimuli) By becoming intimately aware of subtle sensations and refraining from attachment and aversion, one can achieve experiential equanimity.

On the 5th day, we were introduced to Vipassana proper: scanning sensations in the body from top of the head to toes and back to the top, touching with awareness every part of the body. After a few hours and days of this, I began to feel a very pleasant flow of subtle vibrations throughout the body. The assistant teacher interviewed each of us in regards to "getting the flow" and to my frustration I only "got it" on the 9th day, to learn that I should not attach to it, desire it etc..

Tye important part was top develop an experiential awareness of the changeable nature of sensations, be it pleasure or pain.

Did I say pain? On the 5th day we were asked not to move during our meditation fro one hour during the three one hour sittings., which is a perfect recipe to enjoy (or to not feel aversion) towards) pain in my knees. After trying to avoid it by sitting in the chair, leaning against the wall for two days, pain has just moved to other parts of the body (which were numerous), so I gave up and started learning or
re-learning sitting with pain. The promise was that by the end of the course all pain will be gone. Disbelieving but persistent, on the 9th day all pain "dissolved" into subtle vibrations, or sensations of heat, pressure, pulsations, tightening, opening...

It was amazing to experience the "fingers" of awareness reaching to previously numb parts of the body and how by applying awareness for extended period of time, certain muscles began to unwind, open, loosen...

I was struck by how much the therapy for psychological trauma that I along with my colleagues have studied with Pat Ogden, have borrowed from Vipassana.
Vipassana techniques is therapeutic, however therapeutics is only a small side effect of its overall spiritual goal. I mused of course about why in the West we are so afraid of bringing spirituality into psychotherapy....

Both Teodora and I were inspired at the end of the course to not only continue with the meditation techniques but to also donate our services during one of the next Vipassana courses in India.
It is funny that there is a Vipassana center North of Toronto, so in theory we did not have to travel all the way here to do this retreat...
yet, who had the time in Toronto? ;-)

At the end of the course we watched a movie about a pioneering effort in one of the largest and cruelest prison in India, where Vipassana technique was introduced.
it was very touching to watch footage of prisoners coming out of a volunteer Vipassana course and weeping in the arms of their jailer (also a Vipassana practitioner) The movie is called "doing time, doing Vipassana"

Tibetan Children Village

misha — Wed, 15 Aug 2007 00:16:00 GMT

It was a nice trip by autoriksha. From Dharamsala, we climbed high to the green hills for about 20 min. The village itself was enveloped in what seemed like a permanent cloud of myst.

In the office, Tashi, a Tibetan woman dressed in traditional cloths, showed us around: we walked into a few family unit homes, small structures with a simple uncarpeted central hall with low benches along its perimeter, where children do their homework, prey and play, a kitchen, and two bedrooms (separate for boys and girls). There was about 30 kids for each household and one surrogate mother.
Kids of various ages are placed into a household so that the older ones can help look after the young ones. Surrogate mothers are mostly former graduate of the school, who undergo 2 years of training (in classroom as well as hands on apprenticeship)

Tashi who worked in the village for 17 years explained that the village was a brain child of H.H. Dali Lama and his sister Pema was the head of this project for many years. Tibetans are very much concerned with the preservation of Tibetan Culture, which is a huge undertaking in this community in exile.

Tibetans who remain under Chinese occupation become Cinefied-meaning that Tibetan children has no choice but study in Chinese, learning only about Chinese culture and heritage. Even in India, Tibetans until very recently have went through
educational system which has left them ignorant of their roots.

Apparently there is still a huge migration of Tibetans out of Tibet to India and Nepal. Tibetan parents hire guides who for a fee agree to smuggle kids across the Himalayas to Nepal (and then to India)-often, children are very young, yet have to walk long distances across strenuous mountainous terrain, at night, for about 1-2- months before they reach safety. In winter, some develop severe frostbites requiring amputations. Under Chinese rule, Tibetan families are allowed to have only two children: having a third child is a punishable offence. Tibetan women , pregnant with their third child either attempt to come to India to give birth (and then leave their child in Tibetan Village) or smuggle their children across the border.

Although the facilities are pretty basic (we did not see many toys, TV etc), the kids seem to be well loved and taken care of. Tashi stopped from time to time to talk to a small kid, wipe her nose.

I asked Tashi if to her knowledge there is a difference between Tibetan and western system of education. She thought that in traditional Tibetan household, grandparents play an important role of looking after young kids, to the extent that children relate to them as their main parents. She also thought that Tibetans are morel likely to correct their kids and explain proper behaviour early on in their development. After some further thinking, she added that Buddhism plays a big role in emphasizing compassion: "when we prey, we never prey for ourselves, not even for our children..we prey for happiness of all beings, humans and animals alike. This way we are automatically included.."

On our way back, Teodora and I wondered about what it is like for a Tibetan mother to give away her child to be educated in India, knowing she will never see him/her
again..Perhaps, been brought up in a tradition where there is a lesser sense of "me" and "mine", the child is seen less belonging "to me", and more a part of a Tibetan culture at large. Perhaps for them continuation of Tibetan culture is more important then personal attachment.. Perhaps.
May be it is too idealistic to think that on our part.

We felt very good being able to share the money we have collected at our wedding (thanks again to all your generous donations!!!!) with the Village. Tashi told us that the money will support those children who have not been individually supported.

you can view more pictures from Tibetan Children's Village at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/72157601889944923/detail/

Dharamsala

misha — Fri, 10 Aug 2007 23:59:00 GMT

Views from our house

A street in Dharamsala Want some meat? come a tickle me...

Autoriksha braving hilly roads around Dharamsala Mistical cows eating rabage..

Dear Friends and Family,

it has been three months already since Teodora and I left Toronto. After a great and busy month in Europe (visiting London, Budapest, Vienna, Rome, Florence, Venice, Sophia, Kliment, Istanbul) we have already spent two months in India. We had great time visiting our friends
in Budapest, lovely time in Italy (the Italian detour was entirely due to my gracious friend Clare's generous offer to stay in her charming flat in Venice. Thank you sooo much Clare!) and very relaxing time in Bulgaria, where I think despite of the great many faults of my character, I managed to have a good impression on Teodora's parents, who's company I very much liked) ( Teodora's father makes
an amazing Rakia, which is Bulgarian national hard liquor, which smoothed the newly forming bond between us :-) )

see my pictures at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/

and my travel stories at:

http://journals.worldnomads.com/misha/

from Delhi, we

took
the tiny steam train that climes to the sculpted green hills of Shimla via 100 and odd mountain tunnels) to Shimla ( a hill station where Indian government would migrate for the summer as it is cool) and after a few days there, continued to Dharamsala (another former British hill station). We have stayed one month in Mc Leod Gang (a village about 30 min bus ride from Dharamsala, a small Tibetan and Hindu town, a home of Dali Lama), We rented a small but clean room with a kitchenette and a Indian squat toilette/shower room. The family is very hospitable and the views from this quite place were stunning.

After getting over the culture shock, which on the negative side included getting used to narrow streets with abruptly honking auto-rikshas and taxis, cows walking lazily by, brushing you with their massive flanks, cow dung on the roads, appealing for our vigilance, vicious monkeys (which I am afraid of),
pushy Kashmiri shop keepers, all permeating dampness of the tail end of monsoon season, Indian style toilets, which require considerable skill ( which, I am proud to report, we mastered with flying colours :-) ) and a few other things I probably forget..Ah, of course beggars!)

On the positive side, we have ate the most amazing vegetarian food, met very interesting people, learned and learning about Tibetan and Hindu cultures, took great meditation courses (at Tushita Monastery and Vipassana Center), appreciated the slow way of life here, witnessed some gracious construction work by Nepalese man and women dressed in rather fancy saris and shirts, saw great smiles on people's faces, appreciated how easily people break into singing on the streets here, saw some amazing mountains in Ladakh and felt very good about being able to donate to Tibetan Children's village (thanks to all of you who donated money during our wedding fundraising!!)

Mc Leod Gange turned out to be a rather intense place, full of tourists, shops and all possible new age courses catering to them,
a crowd mix, consisting of lay Tibetans, Tibetan monks, Kashmiri traders, local Hindu folks, dangerously borrowing into the crowds loudly honking auto-rikshas, slowing things down cows and their cow dung, beggars (although very few in this part of India) and tourists (
many of which are Israelis; some tourists are dressed in European clothing, lots wearing local colourful garb, a few look like Jesus Christ, just after Crucifixion :-) )   There are many older Tibetans, dressed in traditional cloths, who have the warmest and the most genuine smiles (younger generation seems more stressed and more speedy)   While we enjoyed our meditation courses, we managed to completely ignore Dali Lama, who taught every months from July to October...well, perhaps in is not in the cards...

After a months of showing exemplary tolerance of the ubiquitous green mold, never drying cloths, lack of sun and plenitude of rains, we
have decided to rise closer to the sky, above the clouds, and we went to Leh, Ladakh, a mountainous area with moon-like desert scapes, on the border with China and Pakistan and home to a small Buddhist nation of Ladakhis. It is also called "a little Tibet", because of the similarities in culture, religion and landscape. I am writing this letter from Leh, the capital, where we stay in a charming guest house with a view on the Himalayas, covered with snows, a small potato filed and a nice flower garden.
Here, we just came back from the 9 days trek in the Markha Valley, where we had to walk on average 7 hours a day through the mind- blowing landscapes of mountains with their green, red, white, blue, grey and black rocks, turquoise-blue and freezing mountain rivers, snow covered peaks, myriads of small chortens(stupas) and clinging to the hills white Gompas (monasteries). We stayed every night at a small village in a traditional Ladakhi house, which were usually primitive and dusty, inevitably dirty and a few were very hospitable.

We had a guide, a young Ladakhi, who's job seemed to be walking way ahead of us, so that we could not harass him with our many questions he had no idea how to answer (tourist industry here is in its nascent state, which means that often the service is promised but not delivered.)
Anyways despite of poor guidance, we have enjoyed meeting local people and witnessing a life style that is dying very rapidly (the area of Ladakh was open to tourism in 1974, which brought rapid and rabid "development" into this very traditional Buddhist society (see my journal for more info on that). Part of our trek were two high passes (5100 and 4700 meters), the former we had to clime when the snow blew in our faces, while the stories of discoverers of North Pole flickered in my eyes.. Because of the snow, we had to clime rather quickly and I was glad to discover a breathing technique which allowed me to keep up with our guide and Teodora. For those who are interested, here it is: imagine that you are an old dying horse on a very fast artificial respirator, pumping air into your wildly expanding and contracting lungs with a noisy shwoosh....) it turned out to be very effective during our 2.5 hours clime. The trick was to keep it up non-stop, even when blowing nose...otherwise, the shortness of breath and headache ensue immediately.... Well, now the hero in me can rest in Leh , although the air here is still very thin and both Teodora and I find ourselves grasping for extra air here and there...

Exhausted, malnourished (on twice a day chapatis-flat Indian bread) and dirty, we are luxuriating in Leh, where there is hot water, plentiful food and
no more climing!   Unfortunately, I will not be able to upload my pictures of beautiful mountains, faces and Gompas until we return to Mc Leod Gange (on the 12 of October). We plan to fly to Jammu and then take a bus to Dharamsala(as the roads from Leh are treacherous at this time of the year and the trip is very long-takes two days of crawling on the edge of vary beautiful
precipices) Upon our return, we will be taking the 10 day residential meditation course at Tushita Monastery and then our plans to leave Dharamsala (after taking a delicious cooking course (Indian cuisine) and some yoga). On the 17 of December, we should fly to Kathmandu (Nepal), to renew our Indian visas, but also to do more studies at Kopan Monastery and hopefully to do a self-guided silent retreat in Pokhara.

And then? depending on people we meet, teachers we find and project we may be inspired to get involved in, as well as money, we may
spend some time in Nepal, Laos, Thailand, or we may come quicker back to India and will proceed to the South.
So far, India is a bit more expensive then we expected, although it is still very cheep (our food and board is usually around Can 10-15 per day (and we are not loosing an ounce of weight at all :-) )

This is a quick summery letter ( I know it is still very long for those of you reading it in your busy offices on Monday morning :-); to read my stories in more detail and to view pictures, please see my new e-journal at:

http://journals.worldnomads.com/misha/

Thank you to all of you who find interest in our journey. I very much appreciate all your responses. Thank you!

To unsubscribe from this list, please send me Unsubscribe e-mail.

May you all be happy!

Love,
Misha
Leh, Ladakh
mgitberg@gmail
http://journals.worldnomads.com/misha/http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/ herding goats in Daramkot, a quite Israeli village near Daramsala

Here are a few portraits I snuck while waiting at a tea shop during 4 hours of non-stop rain-intersting crowd...

Teodora and two Tibetan women on a Kora walk (tradiitonal circumambulation of Dali Lama's Monastery complex Older Tibeatn man spinning prayer wheels..

and of course beutiful laundry views

you can view more photoes from Dharamsala at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/72157601881971803/detail/

Shimla and evil monkeys

misha — Tue, 7 Aug 2007 22:54:00 GMT

full story is coming soon....

you can view more pictures from Shimla at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/72157601875454392/detail/

Arrive alive in Delhi

misha — Sat, 4 Aug 2007 23:08:00 GMT

We almost gave up waiting for our guest house driver at the Delhi airport, when he finally appeared: a short dark-skinned Indian man in his 20s, half-wet from the generous monsoon rain and with a dripping placard with our names on it, barely discernible. He was apologetic about lateness: "too much water on the road". And we were about to find out exactly how much water Delhi had in store for us at the end of its monsoon season...

We hastily followed our wet driver's quick steps out of the airport onto by that point slowly dribbling rain, past our first and very indifferent cow, past a piece of shit of undetermined origin (later we learned to tell various kinds), from stepping into which Teodora's sharp eyes has saved me; past the huge puddles.
The car was an old minivan with 5-6- layers of rubber sheets under our feat(I guess to protect us from the seas of water we were about to swim in).

After we slowly navigated out of the airport parking lot, the drive from Hell started..

Everything around us was wet and grey as we past hundreds of cars, autorikshas, motorcycles. Many cars were stalled blocking the traffic, many people walked their
stalled (because of rain and humidity) motorcycles and small autoriksha vehicles under the rain...

The rules of the road were impossible to determine- cars, bikes and an occasional pedestrian - all moved in all possible directions simultaneously. Some intersections we miraculously negotiated looked as if some invisible hand had tossed cars at random as desperate gambling dice.
Our driver in a very broken English explained to us the obvious: "the traffic is very bad today!" After he exhausted his small English vocabulary, he switched on some blasting Indian tune, and while holding to the wheel with one hand,with another retrieved a pack of wet cigarettes from somewhere deep under his seat. The deafening tune coming from the radio was strangely befitting the madness of our ride, as it kept the driver in sink with the demands of the road. Often he joined the radio, while checking in his rear mirror our paled by fear faces. It was as if he was assuring us with his singing that all was good!
Encouraged by the rhythmical beat of Indian drums, our driver has squeezed into impossible small gaps between cars, full speed, constantly honking away. On the dash of his car, a small figurine of Siva (the Destroyer) was nodding in blessing of this kamikaze stint. I mused clutching the rickety handle in my right hand, that it may have been better to appeal to Vishnu (the Preserver) rather the Siva, but perhaps, Siva had special skills needed to survive this drive.

Just when I was beginning to one by one relax my hands, stomach and legs (all tightened to brace the inevitable), our driver decided that we should take a different route. How to do that? Simple, sharply turn around and just continue full speed against the oncoming flow of traffic, honking crazily and meeting thousands of honks in response. I was beginning to regret that I had no knowledge of Hindu prayers:

what was it that Mahatma Gandhi uttered when he was stabbed to death? Was it RAM? Ram, ram, rammmm....

As our 1.5 hours drive (over only 30 kilometers) continued, I began to realize that in this mess of cars, people and huge puddles, honking is the only organizing factor!

"Honk, honk-hoooooonk, honk-honk!
"watch out, I am intending to go non-stop where I am going!"
" I am not going to stop just to save your life!"

"Honk-honnnnnk, Honk-Hon!"
"I see, you are on my tail, going non-stop where you are going"
"Aye, why do you rush so much!?"

Honkkkkkk-honk=honk-honk-hooooonk!"
"I am trying to kill myself and these two stupid foreigners!"

"Honk-Honk"
"you must do what you must do!"
and so it goes, non-stop, the music of Indian roads.

Suddenly, we make a sharp left turn and with a brave acceleration, speed towards a very (and I mean VERY) narrow street of Maja-ka-Tilla (a small Tibetan quarter in Delhi)
I am convinced we are going to kill a few people as we enter the wet and slippery maize ...but, no, despite of our speed and incessant honking, a few pedestrians (many of them are red robed monks) respond with a surprising sense of calm and trust. Trust in the driver??? or trust in the inevitable, or Divine intervention? Their trust is amazing to me as our mini-van barely misses, and sometimes actually brushes against their torsos. Only later I learn that personal space is highly negligible in India: especially on the streets, cars, cows, donkeys, motorcycles and people, all rub each other as they negotiate crowded streets and small spaces. Surprisingly there are few accidents..

Finally we stopped, drowsy, spaced out, but happy to be alive, sensing the closeness of food and bed. From our guest house window, we could see, in the grey mist outside, the muddy waters of Yamuna river. A few huts huddled together, a group of women and children were washing cloths and making fires. I am glad we are dry here in this guest house!
We are finally in India!

Abuse in Istanbul

misha — Wed, 1 Aug 2007 22:03:00 GMT

Why abuse in Istanbul? Well, you just have to read on....

After resting in Bulgaria, we were ready to take back our tourist roles. Istanbul, although not very beautiful architecturally (except for of course all its famous sites, such as Aye-Sophia, Blue Mosque etc), but is very colourful and spacious. We stayed in the old city, and it was rather charming. When we asked directions to it, locals informed us that "people do not live there", meaning, as we found out later, that it is abandoned to the armies of tourists.

Istanbul amongst other things is a city of cats. Cats are in complete control of this city. Our hotel for example had in its lobby three card board boxes of nursing cat-mothers and their cutey-cute litter: every visitor to the hotel would check on them periodically, witnessing various stages of kittenhood. A young man in the tourist agency explained to us that although Turkish people are very fond of pets, they have no space for them in their urban living quarters, thus they take care of them (meaning Cats!) in the great Istanbul outdoors.

As our ambitions to see and touch and experience has dwindled after Italy, we have enjoyed leisurely walks, drinking Turkish tea while looking out on the Bosphor Straight, taking a slow boat around the Bosphor, going to a Whirling Dervish show in the Oriental Express Train Station (what a place for poor Dervishes) and just strolling along the picturesque streets of Istanbul.

As the old folk proverb has it: If you come to Istanbul, you will leave with a carpet!"
I am proud to say that despite this prediction, we managed to leave unscathed, even though great many people kindly offered us help! Sale a la Turque can be fun although very relentless!

Sir, where are you from? How do you like Istanbul? How long do you stay(are all too familiar by now intro phrases, also well practiced in India)
Ola, amigo! Como estas? Can I show you my business? No need to buy, just look!

They are very cheerful and inventive: in one carpet store, an owner lifts up his shirt and turns around, demonstrating he has no gun: "we are not in Morocco, we are in Istanbul! ) (meaning that there is no pressure to buy!) It is true, he is not as blunt as many of his carpet selling compatriots, but at the end of a 30 minutes carpet presentation, during which his helper, like a circus performer, hurls on the floor dozens of beautiful carpets, and a magically appearing in our hands cups of good Turkish apple tea, he asks: "So, is there a carpet that is crying to come home with you?" Of course "we can ship it to Canada..."
Thankfully he lets us escape free handed.

I thought I found a good way with carpet sellers and restaurant callers-they do appreciate jokes. Joke can be like a token exchange when no other exchange is going to take place:

Sir, (it is always Sir even when I am with Teodora), let me show you my beautiful carpet!
"Thanks, I am afraid I am very allergic to them" or
"Sorry, we have bought 10 already!"

Dinner, Sir?
"Thank you, we are on a strict diet"..or "we have terrible diarrhea today!"

They smile, slap me on the shoulder (which I assume is a sign of appreciation) and we part seemingly without any frustration or bitterness.

Despite this constant pursuit of tourists, genuine hospitality is still discernible; like in Italy, people are smiling, singing and helpful on the streets of Istanbul. Often I get slapped on the shoulders.

So, why abuse? well, you have read this far and here is your reward! The answer lays in Hammam-famous Turkish bath.
According to one friendly tourist agent, incidentally a recent History Graduate, Turks do not go to Hamam anymore, they have hot water at home! His words were confirmed when we arrived to a gorgeous Hamam, build in 16 century. I was bathed near two Americans and three Spaniards, who uttered "Puta" and other indigenous swearing as the skinny dark skinned men who kicked, soaped, twirled and slapped them with obvious joy and sporty vigor.

The Bath was beautiful: the main room was under a tall dome roof, studded with small star-shaped windows through which soft day light was peaking in. In the center of the room was a large round marble stone, warm. On this stone, there were a few figures, draped in long checkered towels tucked at their waist. After a few minutes of relaxing my body on the smooth surface of the warm stone, a dark skinned, slim and mustached Turk suddenly slapped me on the shoulder and after a brief enquiry into my country of origin, loughed and started rubbing me enthusiastically with a coarse mitten, singing something militant to himself. I had no idea that in addition to the rub and wash, i was to be subjected to some kind of chiropractic procedure as my legs suddenly were pulled into the air, then folded with force above my head, then my hands pulled to the side so that my spine could open with a crack! All of this sudden maneuvers alternated with strong slapping on my back, shoulders, arms and buttocks: "aye, strong Turkish bath! Good for Canadian!-he yelled, and then came his rhetorical: "Is it OK, Sir!" Before I could answer or protest-"Slap!" and I was propelled into a 180 degree turn, executed quickly on the smooth marble slab. More rubbing,stretching, pressing and slapping and then-Whoosh! A bucket of cool water made me suddenly alert again, waiting for the next episode of violence!.. Finally, it was over, I stumbled away, clean yet skittish, tensing at the sight of anyone in Hammam who looked like a server-dark skinned and mustached......

Hammam, just like restaurants, carpet shops and other businesses are staffed by a number of men -all doing small jobs here and there, alternating, talking, appearing and disappearing. For example at the restaurant, you can be greeted by one of them, another brings the menu, the third takes your order, while the forth brings the food; another one asks you if you liked the food and then a new one, you have not seen yet, brings you the bill. It is a dizzying business!

Any story of Istanbul would not be complete without telling about deafening sounds of Muezzins: in the area we stayed, two big Mosques were competing for air time, using pre-recorded chants to command attention from everyone in vicinity. Although nobody responds with prostrations, Dervish show at a nearby restaurant halts for a while, conversations are disrupted...It seems that many modern Turks object to this hijacking of sound scape, but so far, the sirens of muezzin calls continues....

One day we were lucky to stray from the regular tourist path wandering into a picturesque but poor religious neghbourhood. Suddenly, it was not us any longer gawking at people and sights, we were now the minority to be eyed with curiosity. An old man tried to gesture to us to hold tight to our camera and wallets because this area, as we found later, was known for its petty crime... Children, however, were gorgious. Unselfconscious and curious, they posed with joy for my camera and said thanks to me for taking pictures...

As if compensating for fresh paint and gloss of the welthier neighborhoods, here the multilayered colourful laundry reigned freely over the streets.

to view more pictures from Istanbul, go to:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/69781927@N00/sets/72157601861580137/