Ah.
Passed through the congestion of Thamel, the tourist strip of Kathmandu, and am now up in Bouddha, the Tibetan area of town part way to Kopan, where I start retreat in two days.
Spent the weekend in KTM with new friends, the party crowd that surfs around asia for the good scene. Funny people, interesting people. Omanis, (have you ever met an Omani? I hadn't. They weren't particularly amused by my excitement, but they were gorgeous.)Greeks, Italians, Nepalis, Tibetans, Indians, and me.
Spent yesterday sleeping off a touch of sickness, finally emerging this morning to head down to the stupa. Bouddha is built around a massive and well-kept stupa. Huge and white, its adorned with hundreds of strings of prayer flags, thousands of cups of marigolds that the devout must place around every morning, prayer wheels, and images of the Buddha and Guru Rinpoche (Not to mention Garuda and Ganesha--interesting how Buddhism and Hinduism mix here) carved into the side and covered in red paint.
It is always interesting to be a foreigner trying to find a place in a different land. You can embrace the full on tourist identity, shopping up a storm and drinking imported beer. You can be the sensitive traveler, keeping your camera to yourself and trying not to be obnoxious. But what if you really want to embrace part of a different culture? That's a whole different picture entirely. Walking around the stuppa, thinking, "what if i believe this? what if i believe in this faith?" Will that seem odd to locals? Where does that put you?
Anyhow, onto temple midgets. So I've circled this stuppa and finally come to the small room with the two prayer wheels about the size of a small VW. I hear squealing in the corner- children, perhaps. Then a very small man emerges, no taller than my waist, and encourages me to spin the prayer wheel. As I round the second, another temple midget, clad in the same marshmellow coat, is being tossed around playfully by an older Nepali/tibetan and laughing gleefully. Laughing loudly, and fully expecting to see Gene Wilder around the next corner, I walk around perhaps three times, more to see the happy little men then to accumulate any kind of merit. As I pass again, they motion, laughing, to their little bags of rice and money- offerings. Yes, little men, I will leave you some rupees, if simply for being the happiest people I've seen in a long time.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Friday, November 14, 2008
"You have hair like bob dylan" and other such adventures
Whee! I'm back in Asia!
It doesn't feel shocking anymore, and is actually rather comfortable--the whole Asia thing that is. I suppose I have a tendency to worry and create tremendous anxiety before a big change, but in actuality, I'm having a great morning.
I woke up my first day to a foggy Delhi morning- the sun rising over tropical tree tops. I did some tai chi on our roof top garden, realizing by the time I was done that the fog was actually just pollution and remembering that Delhi is gross. Met another american girl traveling solo and spent the day drinking chai and laughing with funny Indian shopkeepers.
The journey to Kathmandu was also quite lovely. I decided this trip to do things a bit differently, so I am without camera or guidebook. Somehow, this has not made a bit of difference, except that perhaps the universe is conspiring to introduce me to lovely new friends who will help me along the way. The train ride was pleasant, spend with a family of young girls and an older grandmother who did the BEST train impersonation I have ever seen. As I was playing with the cutest of the young ones, the mother decided to tell me that the little brat was actually talking smack- saying even she could get her hair cut, why couldn't I? Rather hillarious. Happened to sit next to the one other westerner traveling to Nepal, so we hopped the 4:30am bus to the border.
The crossing went well, thanks to my guardian angel Yogel, a Tibetan/Nepali who runs two restaurants in Kathmandu and knows more about the Merry Pranksters than I do (apparently one of them now lives in Kathmandu, under the name Dorje, and has become a monk). He got us through and helped us get buses at normal prices. He has also been a great guide around the city.
I'm headed up to Boudha, the Tibetan part of town, tomorrow, and then to Kopan probably the next day.
Also, a note on Nepal: I love this place. The drive up went through verdant mountainside forests (and the occasional road block- "how people are expressing themselves" now with the new government). The people are also beautiful. There are many I could mistake for turks or italians, some distinctly chinese looking, and all you could imagine in between.
chai count: 5
It doesn't feel shocking anymore, and is actually rather comfortable--the whole Asia thing that is. I suppose I have a tendency to worry and create tremendous anxiety before a big change, but in actuality, I'm having a great morning.
I woke up my first day to a foggy Delhi morning- the sun rising over tropical tree tops. I did some tai chi on our roof top garden, realizing by the time I was done that the fog was actually just pollution and remembering that Delhi is gross. Met another american girl traveling solo and spent the day drinking chai and laughing with funny Indian shopkeepers.
The journey to Kathmandu was also quite lovely. I decided this trip to do things a bit differently, so I am without camera or guidebook. Somehow, this has not made a bit of difference, except that perhaps the universe is conspiring to introduce me to lovely new friends who will help me along the way. The train ride was pleasant, spend with a family of young girls and an older grandmother who did the BEST train impersonation I have ever seen. As I was playing with the cutest of the young ones, the mother decided to tell me that the little brat was actually talking smack- saying even she could get her hair cut, why couldn't I? Rather hillarious. Happened to sit next to the one other westerner traveling to Nepal, so we hopped the 4:30am bus to the border.
The crossing went well, thanks to my guardian angel Yogel, a Tibetan/Nepali who runs two restaurants in Kathmandu and knows more about the Merry Pranksters than I do (apparently one of them now lives in Kathmandu, under the name Dorje, and has become a monk). He got us through and helped us get buses at normal prices. He has also been a great guide around the city.
I'm headed up to Boudha, the Tibetan part of town, tomorrow, and then to Kopan probably the next day.
Also, a note on Nepal: I love this place. The drive up went through verdant mountainside forests (and the occasional road block- "how people are expressing themselves" now with the new government). The people are also beautiful. There are many I could mistake for turks or italians, some distinctly chinese looking, and all you could imagine in between.
chai count: 5
Friday, September 19, 2008
My grandmother is voting Obama
My grandmother is a beautiful woman. Growing up she played piano, and as her friends passed away they donated their organs and pianos to her--the result of which is a front room with FIVE different string/key instruments. When I was little we used to play old show tunes.
Now is a different time. She is like an oak tree, and the arthritis has turned her fingers into crooked old branches. She still has the same laugh, with a little click in it, and beautiful white hair like an angel. She is generous and kind and practical and smart. And she cannot vote for a black man.
Ever since she's voted, its been straight democratic ticket. When I was home a few weeks ago, we talked politics, as we always do, and she ended up (in her age, perhaps) rambling a bit about race issues in the United States. "Why do they blame us?" She doesn't see her connection to these issues and doesn't like to feel at fault. It was a different time then, and God bless her, its not for me to judge who she can and cannot vote for. I talked to her, trying to persuade. Mom later said she would simply leave the president slate blank and vote no one.
And now the banks are falling. Thanks to all you damned libertarian economists wanting to deregulate everything--glad you robber barrons can run away with our money and let the GOVERNMENT save us. Thats for later. Anyhow, after living through the depression, and remembering the value of new deal policies, and listening to Barack, my grandmother decided to vote for Obama.
Lets weigh the significance of this: She's old, she's white, and she's Southern Baptist. And she's voting for Barack Obama.
Hallelujah!
Listen up guys, if my grandma can do it so can anyone. Hope! Lets get to work and swing some voters!
Now is a different time. She is like an oak tree, and the arthritis has turned her fingers into crooked old branches. She still has the same laugh, with a little click in it, and beautiful white hair like an angel. She is generous and kind and practical and smart. And she cannot vote for a black man.
Ever since she's voted, its been straight democratic ticket. When I was home a few weeks ago, we talked politics, as we always do, and she ended up (in her age, perhaps) rambling a bit about race issues in the United States. "Why do they blame us?" She doesn't see her connection to these issues and doesn't like to feel at fault. It was a different time then, and God bless her, its not for me to judge who she can and cannot vote for. I talked to her, trying to persuade. Mom later said she would simply leave the president slate blank and vote no one.
And now the banks are falling. Thanks to all you damned libertarian economists wanting to deregulate everything--glad you robber barrons can run away with our money and let the GOVERNMENT save us. Thats for later. Anyhow, after living through the depression, and remembering the value of new deal policies, and listening to Barack, my grandmother decided to vote for Obama.
Lets weigh the significance of this: She's old, she's white, and she's Southern Baptist. And she's voting for Barack Obama.
Hallelujah!
Listen up guys, if my grandma can do it so can anyone. Hope! Lets get to work and swing some voters!
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Organs and Labyrinths
I figure since New Orleans is pretty much one of the best cities ever, I should dedicate some past due blog time to it.
Here, a little story just for you:
Yesterday after work I biked over to Trinity Episcopal Church on Jackson Avenue. Bike rides through the city have become strolls through nostalgia- thick, deep, and clingy nostalgia that matches the tone of the city in the summer. I passed the Superdome on Poydras-and instead of remembering Step it Up or the Home Show, I remembered graduation. I remembered embracing drunk friends in the morning, and saying goodbye to them in the afternoon. The CBD- my law firm days. Corner of Jackson and St. Charles: Zulu after the craaaziest lundi gras of my life- covered in gold paint, catching a coconut, finding my dearest friends on the same corner. But enough of this, onto church!
So Trinity has one of the finest organs in the nation. There are over 5,000 pipes and it took installers almost 3 months to build the thing. On Tuesday nights, some genius with a foreign name plays the organ while interested persons come to walk the labyrinth. Have you ever walked the labyrinth? It looks like a celtic knot, but it comes from the floor of some 11th century French Cathedral. They built one in Columbia, Missouri outside Boone County Hospital. It sits on top of a hill, so when you reach the center--where you meditate, pray, etc--you look down over Stevens lake. I walked it two and a half years ago and have loved it since.
The entire ceremony was terribly pagan. Here we are, in some giant Episcopal church, with dozens of candles glowing in a circle around an ancient labyrinth. The organ music was the perfect opening tune to a B horror movie about a cult in the woods. Sometimes it got so creepy that I would have to walk faster to get away from the damned thing. Apparently its beautiful.
As for the walking itself, I might as well have been doing Tai Chi. In fact, for awhile during the slow, walking meditation, I did the cat walk (the tai chi walk with your heels first). It's all about breath, about shedding current thought and connecting with the divine. How wonderful.
So around we went, five of us in this labyrinth, and after about 45 minutes you pop out, and just like that, you leave.
As I was exiting, I was caught by the shaky little lady who had been, with some difficulty, lighting candles before the ceremony. Although she's aged, she has dark hair and wore a bright purple shirt. "Is this your first time?" she asks, in the most splendid French accent I've ever heard. We proceed in conversation- and each time she says "lab-a-reenth" I am overjoyed by her Frenchness. (I realize now the the only French I have known in my life have been men- go figure. Their accents, I now realize, do not even compare to that of their female counterparts). Her name is Manu. How perfect?
and, there you have it, an hour of my summertime life. mwah.
Here, a little story just for you:
Yesterday after work I biked over to Trinity Episcopal Church on Jackson Avenue. Bike rides through the city have become strolls through nostalgia- thick, deep, and clingy nostalgia that matches the tone of the city in the summer. I passed the Superdome on Poydras-and instead of remembering Step it Up or the Home Show, I remembered graduation. I remembered embracing drunk friends in the morning, and saying goodbye to them in the afternoon. The CBD- my law firm days. Corner of Jackson and St. Charles: Zulu after the craaaziest lundi gras of my life- covered in gold paint, catching a coconut, finding my dearest friends on the same corner. But enough of this, onto church!
So Trinity has one of the finest organs in the nation. There are over 5,000 pipes and it took installers almost 3 months to build the thing. On Tuesday nights, some genius with a foreign name plays the organ while interested persons come to walk the labyrinth. Have you ever walked the labyrinth? It looks like a celtic knot, but it comes from the floor of some 11th century French Cathedral. They built one in Columbia, Missouri outside Boone County Hospital. It sits on top of a hill, so when you reach the center--where you meditate, pray, etc--you look down over Stevens lake. I walked it two and a half years ago and have loved it since.
The entire ceremony was terribly pagan. Here we are, in some giant Episcopal church, with dozens of candles glowing in a circle around an ancient labyrinth. The organ music was the perfect opening tune to a B horror movie about a cult in the woods. Sometimes it got so creepy that I would have to walk faster to get away from the damned thing. Apparently its beautiful.
As for the walking itself, I might as well have been doing Tai Chi. In fact, for awhile during the slow, walking meditation, I did the cat walk (the tai chi walk with your heels first). It's all about breath, about shedding current thought and connecting with the divine. How wonderful.
So around we went, five of us in this labyrinth, and after about 45 minutes you pop out, and just like that, you leave.
As I was exiting, I was caught by the shaky little lady who had been, with some difficulty, lighting candles before the ceremony. Although she's aged, she has dark hair and wore a bright purple shirt. "Is this your first time?" she asks, in the most splendid French accent I've ever heard. We proceed in conversation- and each time she says "lab-a-reenth" I am overjoyed by her Frenchness. (I realize now the the only French I have known in my life have been men- go figure. Their accents, I now realize, do not even compare to that of their female counterparts). Her name is Manu. How perfect?
and, there you have it, an hour of my summertime life. mwah.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Comfort
Life has been really spectacular. Life has been comfortable, exciting, scary. Scary because for the first time in years I have settled into an area, a niche, a group of people who love me... I'm not scared of graduating; I'm ready to be done with this damned thesis. I realize, however, that I am scared this will all go away. I've been high for so long, and I remember the lows and I don't want to go back there. I couldn't take it. I think I'm a stronger person now--as if all this good has somehow built me up and prepared me for what comes next.
I suppose I'm headed back to asia. On halloween night I gave myself one year to get to Nepal- Kopan monastery for the november course. It seemed like a good direction. I've been questioning a bit lately--am I really going to go back to Asia by myself? God, this summer was witness to some truly amazing hallmarks of my life. But there was also loneliness, and the oddity of being a white woman alone in a collective, foreign society. Nepal would be different. What a blessing to be inundated in the dharma for so long.
What would I do if I stayed here? Huh.
It's the beginning of spring break here. New Orleans is perfect in the spring and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. As friends leave, however, I am realizing, or rather feeling, for the first time the loss that I will feel in May. I know, I am always the preacher of change- flow like the river! Don't cling to the banks! But the banks have been so damned good to me this spring.
I have faith in myself and my future. I know I'm strong and capable, and I'm sure that wherever I land I will find beautiful people. I suppose now, however, I just feel tremendously grateful for all the beautiful people who love me here--and I will miss them terribly.
I suppose I'm headed back to asia. On halloween night I gave myself one year to get to Nepal- Kopan monastery for the november course. It seemed like a good direction. I've been questioning a bit lately--am I really going to go back to Asia by myself? God, this summer was witness to some truly amazing hallmarks of my life. But there was also loneliness, and the oddity of being a white woman alone in a collective, foreign society. Nepal would be different. What a blessing to be inundated in the dharma for so long.
What would I do if I stayed here? Huh.
It's the beginning of spring break here. New Orleans is perfect in the spring and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. As friends leave, however, I am realizing, or rather feeling, for the first time the loss that I will feel in May. I know, I am always the preacher of change- flow like the river! Don't cling to the banks! But the banks have been so damned good to me this spring.
I have faith in myself and my future. I know I'm strong and capable, and I'm sure that wherever I land I will find beautiful people. I suppose now, however, I just feel tremendously grateful for all the beautiful people who love me here--and I will miss them terribly.
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