Meditation, Mad Transport, Om Island and the Beach

Where was I? Pushkar, right? Well, it has been such a long time since I last posted. I have received some correspondance wondering, and some worrying (sorry Mum), about my whereabouts. Still alive, healthy and in good spirits.

Now my diary is open in front of me, so let's see if it can jog my memory... I stayed in Pushkar until November 5, the full moon and final day of the Pushkar Mela (festival). That morning was a surreal experience. I walked around the ghats at 5am with an Israeli guy, where it was standing room only. People jostled to get into the water and wash their year of sins and indiscretions away. It must be nice to have such easy-clean karma. The little town was packed right to the edges with pilgrims, with the police using batons and fists in some cases to make sure that the pilgrims found the lake.

I was leaving town because I had to be in Jaipur for a 10 day vipassana meditation course on the 6th. For company I had a German guy, Marco, who I met in Pushkar. An interesting guy. He had hitch-hiked from Germany to India, via countries such as Hungary, Turkey and Iran on a whim. He has only got a tiny leather shoulder bag with a change of clothes and some toiletries.

Together we pushed and jostled our way out of town to do a double bus run to Jaipur. In Jaipur we me Bobby (one of the Indian boys I met in Jaipur) for dinner. Babba had been meant to meet us too, but other plans had been made for him. His parents had found a nice girl for him to marry, so an appointment had been made for him to meet her family (and not the girl hirself) that evening. We found out the next morning that he hadn't turned up, and had instead gone off to get drunk. This is not the first time that he has done this, so I would say that the idea of marriage doesn't appeal to him. It isn't that surprising -- he has met plenty of travellers, some of whom he has had relationships with. The confusion that trying to combine these two lifestyles causes is clear when you hear these guys talk about their plans for the future.

The vipassana centre was a half-hour walk from the edge of town, through the beautiful monkey temple (with three bathing pools, one for women, one for men and one for monkeys... though the monkeys use whichever pool they feel like). Some of you will be wondering what vipassana is? It is the type of meditation taught by The Buddha, Sidharta Gottama. The actual method and teachings are non-sectarian, with the whole organised buddhist religion clouding things up later on.

For 10 days one does not speak, and in fact avoids communication of all kinds. Meditaton is for 10 hours a day, rising at 4am and going to bed at 9pm. Food is healthy (and tasty in my opnion, though some people thought there was too much porridge) and plentiful. Everything is looked after so that one can devote themselves entirely to the task of meditating. The whole experience was a challenge, but I never had the urge to leave like a lot of people said they did. Some very strange things entered my mind while meditating, some good and some very unpleasant. At the end I came out a lot more relaxed both mentally and physically.

Doing vipassana in India also presented some unique challenges, from the usual source of challenges in India: the locals, who made up the bulk of the people attending the course. Indians are flatulant, and they obviously believe that letting off tremendous burps (I have only known one Westener who could match these people, Matthew Collett take a bow) is not counted in the "total silence" rule. The chap next to me would let a series of belches out every 15 minutes -- once I spied him do it, and he threw his whole body into it. I succesfully managed to overcome these distractions, which helped my meditation in the long run. I was also tested the moment our vow of silence was lifted. I was approached by a middle aged Indian who reproached me "you have such a handsome face, why do this ugly thing to your hair, to me it looks very bad". Having a conversation after 10 days of silence is strange, and to hear this after 10 days of learning to be happy and love all beings was a bit rich... I smiled and asked if he felt that he had learned anything from the course (Indians create irony with everything they do, but are completely oblivious to it).

The noise and hassle of Jaipur was amplified, but still somehow more tolerable, after our silence, so we caught an evening train to Indore. Now, you have to be aware of something when you read my blog. If I say that I caught an evening train, and nothing else it means that I choose not to tell you all of the shit that occured doing so. The getting to the station 5 hours early to get a ticket, then spending 5 hours going from one spot to another to get a ticket due to computer crashes and arbitary red tape (Indians love red-tape and rules, the more absurd the better). I don't mention the chanting crowds of Indians demanding tickets and bull rushing the ticket counter, behind which indifferent ticket sellers ignore everybody. I don't mention going around the back to get behind the ticket counter and begging to get a ticket 5 minutes before our train leaves. Rest assured, every day involves some little challenge.

We got our train, and made our way to the pilgrmage town of Omkareshwar when we got off the train on the next morning. Omkareshwar is on the confluence of two rivers, with the town split between the mainland and an island in the middle of the conflence. Apparently the Island is shaped like an Om symbol, though the architects of this idea used the same logic that people use to associate constelations with scorpions, crabs and fish. The place was much nicer than Pushkar, in part due to the lack of tourists and the institutionalised practices that the locals adopt for tourists, and also due to the beautiful location. We were high on a hill, overlooking the temples and ghats on both sides of the river.

On our third evening it was decided that we would make a spontanious run South to Goa. Get to the beach immediately. Bags were packed, bus and train timetables consulted and the 9pm bus to kandwar taken. What followed was 36 hours of discomfort and madness. I won't go into much detail, but it involved sleeping on rail platforms, catching the wrong train, sitting next to the toilets between carriages due to unreserved tickets, 3 bus rides and another nasty case of giardia. We arrived to Arambol beach yesterday, tired but happy, and in my case stomach-cramped. Our first sight-off and swim-in the Arabian sea was had and sleep was easy and deep.

Now Marco has gone to hang a hammock in a banyan tree with a bunch of... well, let's call them "spiritual aspirants" in the forest. I have a cheap dorm room. Today has been a day of yoga, healthy food and reading. I will stay here for a few more days, getting myself strong and healthy again after the crazy travels, poor diet and illness of the last couple of days. This place isn't so nice, with lots of tourist shops and a so-so beach, so I will lighten my load (you were right Dad, I don't want to carry a tent around India) and start walking down the coast... stopping where I find nice spots and seeing what adventures I find. Marco will eventually catch up with me and we might head off to Mysore to study some yogs. Or maybe not.