Tuesday, July 1, 08
Returning, as leaving, is always a difficult transition. With them come opportunities as well as longing, sadness, excitement... One is never the same, life is not static, and to recognize this, not ignore, bringing forward the energy, is a trick, a process.
There are cultures which understand such shifts and see each doorway as a threshold into something new. This doorway, St. Ives, UK, is such a point. To step out of the past months into the up-coming brings with it an affect on my body and psyche - my skin is dry and a cold sore indicates a chemical change.
To bring what the walk-about continues to teach me, not cling, not abandon, developing a synthesis of the two worlds, is the work of many years, a lifetime. To do otherwise is to be stuck in the netherworld of not in and not out. Beauty, as well as horror, rests in both worlds. As does contentment and struggle, humidity and dryness, fractures and joining... This is the IT of Life - two sides of the same coin.
Quickly, the sharpness of the experience dulls and fades, which is our lot. Yet, I bear all the feelings of vistas, heat, flowers, waiting, illness, friends, hunger, solitude... These are never far away.
So, I close my last entry with portions of a poem by Walt Whitman:
"apart from the pulling and hauling,
amused, complacent, compassionating,
idle, unitary... both in and out of the
game and watching and wondering at it all..."
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Edinburgh, Scotland
Saturday, June 28, 08
With some extra time, I have decided to take the 3 3/4 hour train ride, north, to Edinburgh for a day and a half of Scotland. Boarding the train in Peterborough, 8:51, and this train is on time, I work my way through Doncester, York, Durham, Newcastle, along the North Sea to Alnmouth and on into Edinburgh's Waverley Station.
The countryside is mostly flat with trees along roadways, homes and fields of grain.
This is a proper train, quiet, plush, real porta potties. Broken down castles appear here and again with light houses wading into the sea on a spit of land. The clouds are heavy, showers, but no steady rain. The further north we travel, the more the hills roll. Certainly, a civilized look with fence lines and blocks of land. The Sea shimmers in the sunlight. Small towns, churches, long metal and brick bridges and schools, clump along the way.
Across the aisle are 2 very fat Americans overflowing the seats. Also, behind and across are 2 other Americans, a father and daughter from Pennsylvania, here for a fortnight HS graduation present.
Off the train, I walk the several kilometers and eventually, following 4 askings, arrive at the Ascot GH, a three story, 7 bed B&B.
The afternoon and evening are spent at Edinburgh Castle, lunch at The Witchery ( I order a glass of champagne, with my food, to toast the journey), walking the Royal Mile from the Castle to The Palace of Holyroodhouse, flag up indicating a royal present. Hiking up Salisbury Crag to Arthur's Seat, the highest point overlooking Edinburgh, a drizzle starts and then leaves. On the edge of the downpour, which passes to the west, I find my way down the northeast side and back into the city.
One difficulty in walking Edinburgh is that the streets change names - North Bridge becomes South Bridge, Nicolson St, Clerk St... Another example, going east from downtown; Princes St, Waterloo Place, Regent Rd., Montrose Terrace and on.
Dinner is late, and sleep later. The sun sinks, with darkness only fully in place after 11:00.
With some extra time, I have decided to take the 3 3/4 hour train ride, north, to Edinburgh for a day and a half of Scotland. Boarding the train in Peterborough, 8:51, and this train is on time, I work my way through Doncester, York, Durham, Newcastle, along the North Sea to Alnmouth and on into Edinburgh's Waverley Station.
The countryside is mostly flat with trees along roadways, homes and fields of grain.
This is a proper train, quiet, plush, real porta potties. Broken down castles appear here and again with light houses wading into the sea on a spit of land. The clouds are heavy, showers, but no steady rain. The further north we travel, the more the hills roll. Certainly, a civilized look with fence lines and blocks of land. The Sea shimmers in the sunlight. Small towns, churches, long metal and brick bridges and schools, clump along the way.
Across the aisle are 2 very fat Americans overflowing the seats. Also, behind and across are 2 other Americans, a father and daughter from Pennsylvania, here for a fortnight HS graduation present.
Off the train, I walk the several kilometers and eventually, following 4 askings, arrive at the Ascot GH, a three story, 7 bed B&B.
The afternoon and evening are spent at Edinburgh Castle, lunch at The Witchery ( I order a glass of champagne, with my food, to toast the journey), walking the Royal Mile from the Castle to The Palace of Holyroodhouse, flag up indicating a royal present. Hiking up Salisbury Crag to Arthur's Seat, the highest point overlooking Edinburgh, a drizzle starts and then leaves. On the edge of the downpour, which passes to the west, I find my way down the northeast side and back into the city.
One difficulty in walking Edinburgh is that the streets change names - North Bridge becomes South Bridge, Nicolson St, Clerk St... Another example, going east from downtown; Princes St, Waterloo Place, Regent Rd., Montrose Terrace and on.
Dinner is late, and sleep later. The sun sinks, with darkness only fully in place after 11:00.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
St. Ives, UK
Thursday, June 26, 08
Suddenly, the mosquitoes are gone, a smoke detector appears in the room, clean walls, carpeting, order in traffic, manicured lawns, no filthy smells, clean, graffiti, curbs, plenty of power points, and feeling fat from being overfed. Welcome to the 1st world. No longer a gecko in the room to click at me. Streets which are deserted, not a car, pedestrian or dog. I have a knife and fork to feed myself. A spoon certainly allowed for volume bites.
All goes well at the Chennai airport, and throughout the flight - 10 1/2 hours. On the underground to Kings Cross Station, I ask, and find the train for Huntingdon. There, I have purchased the wrong ticket, which is pointed out to me by the Station Master checking tickets at the exit. Saying he needs to charge me for the balance, I agree. Then, walking to the turnstile, he places and turns a key. As the gate opens he says, "In favor of International Cooperation!" and lets me pass with a smile. Two pay phones, one on each side of the station door, are used to call John. Two phones because neither one of them will work properly. A woman, sitting on a bench, asks me which number I'm trying. As I repeat it, she dials and hands me her mobile phone. John's wife, Kay, answers saying John is on his way. St. Ives is only a few miles up the road. My room is upstairs in a three bedroom house on the edge of town.
Sleep comes easy. Yet, I'm up long before anyone else. After breakfast, John and I walk into town for some shopping. He has some insurance issues with a local company. I want to look for several long sleeved shirts. One, found in a thrift store, costs me £3, and I'm feeling in style, again. Riding the train, I felt conspicuously out of place with my travel worn clothes. Dressed in my dark red shirt and Bangkok long shorts, I was woefully 3rd world dressed.
Walking along the Great Ouse, the river which cuts through the town, we cross the bridge and enjoy talk and companionship. How was Vietnam? What about Laos? Pictures follow when we return home. A schedule is being planned for the days ahead, York, Cambridge, London. And lots of relaxing. Rain is beginning to fall, it is 7:30 pm, and the evening is settling in. I'm feeling the effects of jet lag and will need an early bedtime.
Suddenly, the mosquitoes are gone, a smoke detector appears in the room, clean walls, carpeting, order in traffic, manicured lawns, no filthy smells, clean, graffiti, curbs, plenty of power points, and feeling fat from being overfed. Welcome to the 1st world. No longer a gecko in the room to click at me. Streets which are deserted, not a car, pedestrian or dog. I have a knife and fork to feed myself. A spoon certainly allowed for volume bites.
All goes well at the Chennai airport, and throughout the flight - 10 1/2 hours. On the underground to Kings Cross Station, I ask, and find the train for Huntingdon. There, I have purchased the wrong ticket, which is pointed out to me by the Station Master checking tickets at the exit. Saying he needs to charge me for the balance, I agree. Then, walking to the turnstile, he places and turns a key. As the gate opens he says, "In favor of International Cooperation!" and lets me pass with a smile. Two pay phones, one on each side of the station door, are used to call John. Two phones because neither one of them will work properly. A woman, sitting on a bench, asks me which number I'm trying. As I repeat it, she dials and hands me her mobile phone. John's wife, Kay, answers saying John is on his way. St. Ives is only a few miles up the road. My room is upstairs in a three bedroom house on the edge of town.
Sleep comes easy. Yet, I'm up long before anyone else. After breakfast, John and I walk into town for some shopping. He has some insurance issues with a local company. I want to look for several long sleeved shirts. One, found in a thrift store, costs me £3, and I'm feeling in style, again. Riding the train, I felt conspicuously out of place with my travel worn clothes. Dressed in my dark red shirt and Bangkok long shorts, I was woefully 3rd world dressed.
Walking along the Great Ouse, the river which cuts through the town, we cross the bridge and enjoy talk and companionship. How was Vietnam? What about Laos? Pictures follow when we return home. A schedule is being planned for the days ahead, York, Cambridge, London. And lots of relaxing. Rain is beginning to fall, it is 7:30 pm, and the evening is settling in. I'm feeling the effects of jet lag and will need an early bedtime.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Travel Plans?
Sunday, June 22, 08
Here's a short explanation of my travel plans. It will be difficult to find time for an entry so here's where I'll be. Today, I spent the day in Chidambaram, around 1 1/2 hours south of Pondy.
Monday - Leave at 8:00 for Tiruvannamalai.
Tuesday - Leave at 8:00 for Mamallapuram and on to Chennai (Madras).
Wednesday - British Airways flight at 8:05, arriving London, Heathrow Airport, at 14:20. There, I will board the Piccadilly Line into Kings Cross Station, switch to the above ground line and on to Huntingdon Station, 1+ hour north. John and I will meet and spend the next 8 days looking around the area.
Here's a short explanation of my travel plans. It will be difficult to find time for an entry so here's where I'll be. Today, I spent the day in Chidambaram, around 1 1/2 hours south of Pondy.
Monday - Leave at 8:00 for Tiruvannamalai.
Tuesday - Leave at 8:00 for Mamallapuram and on to Chennai (Madras).
Wednesday - British Airways flight at 8:05, arriving London, Heathrow Airport, at 14:20. There, I will board the Piccadilly Line into Kings Cross Station, switch to the above ground line and on to Huntingdon Station, 1+ hour north. John and I will meet and spend the next 8 days looking around the area.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Detente
Saturday, June 21, 08
Two stories:
-Filing through the food line at the Dining Hall, I carry my tray to the 4 person tables which occupy the area closest to the outer courtyard. There, I find a table with 2 people sitting opposite each other, and a tray in the middle of the section which is to their right. Where is this man sitting? As I stand, confused, the tray owner, a short, stocky man in his 60s arrives with water. I ask him where he is seated. He continues through and sits facing the inside of the building. Ok, the only seat left is facing outward. More than 5, but less than 10, minutes later, he suddenly looks at me and begins, "Why did you want my seat?" My reply, "I didn't want your seat! The tray was in the middle and I didn't know where you were sitting." He points to the ceiling fan and seems to be indicating that my seat is the better one. I continue, "I didn't want to sit where you were sitting." He replies, "Thank You," with a blank look.
-Following breakfast, as is my habit, I take 2 small cups of black coffee in the Park GH canteen and read the local paper. The lady seated behind the register is in her 40s with orange highlights in her hair. Since I forgot to purchase a meal ticket for the Dining Hall, this morning's breakfast will be here. I order yogurt with papaya and my usual 2 cups of black coffee. The total is Rs 46. Flipping through my money clip I hand her a Rs 50 note. She holds it up and says it has a small tear on the top middle, and that she won't accept it. My reply is, "It's your money." "Did you get it here?" "It's your country's money!" "It passes through many hands" she finishes and hands it back. Well, then she will need to find change for a Rs 100 note.
There are times when East does not meet West. And ships do pass in the night!
Two stories:
-Filing through the food line at the Dining Hall, I carry my tray to the 4 person tables which occupy the area closest to the outer courtyard. There, I find a table with 2 people sitting opposite each other, and a tray in the middle of the section which is to their right. Where is this man sitting? As I stand, confused, the tray owner, a short, stocky man in his 60s arrives with water. I ask him where he is seated. He continues through and sits facing the inside of the building. Ok, the only seat left is facing outward. More than 5, but less than 10, minutes later, he suddenly looks at me and begins, "Why did you want my seat?" My reply, "I didn't want your seat! The tray was in the middle and I didn't know where you were sitting." He points to the ceiling fan and seems to be indicating that my seat is the better one. I continue, "I didn't want to sit where you were sitting." He replies, "Thank You," with a blank look.
-Following breakfast, as is my habit, I take 2 small cups of black coffee in the Park GH canteen and read the local paper. The lady seated behind the register is in her 40s with orange highlights in her hair. Since I forgot to purchase a meal ticket for the Dining Hall, this morning's breakfast will be here. I order yogurt with papaya and my usual 2 cups of black coffee. The total is Rs 46. Flipping through my money clip I hand her a Rs 50 note. She holds it up and says it has a small tear on the top middle, and that she won't accept it. My reply is, "It's your money." "Did you get it here?" "It's your country's money!" "It passes through many hands" she finishes and hands it back. Well, then she will need to find change for a Rs 100 note.
There are times when East does not meet West. And ships do pass in the night!
Friday, June 20, 2008
Pondy and North
Friday, June 20, 08
I forgot to purchase a meal ticket for the Dining Hall, so I am walking out past where I usually turn and continue on to where the Esplande (ocean front walkway) ends - on into the squalor of thatched lean-tos and broken down brick homes. Trash, and filthy water, drains into the sea as women drop white chalk from their fingers creating the designs which front many homes and businesses. Children are making a push for school, their uniforms pressed, the girls in braids. A teenager hikes her younger brother on a bicycle and turns down a narrow connecting street. Washing behind a short wall, a man scrubs as a temple blares sacred music. Fishermen are out, some in. Kneeling over their nets, they sort through their catch pulling off the ones stuck in the netting, mostly sardine size. Women sit on their haunches anticipating the catch - limited when considering how many mouths it must feed. Reaching the end of the pavement, I turn through a dirt path to the ocean front and look north where rocks have been dumped in against erosion. Back along the Esplanade, the exercising crowd is out. Near the GH is a public toilet and shower facility where a gathering of city folk are preparing for the day - brushing of teeth, showers and talk. It's 8:00 AM.
I forgot to purchase a meal ticket for the Dining Hall, so I am walking out past where I usually turn and continue on to where the Esplande (ocean front walkway) ends - on into the squalor of thatched lean-tos and broken down brick homes. Trash, and filthy water, drains into the sea as women drop white chalk from their fingers creating the designs which front many homes and businesses. Children are making a push for school, their uniforms pressed, the girls in braids. A teenager hikes her younger brother on a bicycle and turns down a narrow connecting street. Washing behind a short wall, a man scrubs as a temple blares sacred music. Fishermen are out, some in. Kneeling over their nets, they sort through their catch pulling off the ones stuck in the netting, mostly sardine size. Women sit on their haunches anticipating the catch - limited when considering how many mouths it must feed. Reaching the end of the pavement, I turn through a dirt path to the ocean front and look north where rocks have been dumped in against erosion. Back along the Esplanade, the exercising crowd is out. Near the GH is a public toilet and shower facility where a gathering of city folk are preparing for the day - brushing of teeth, showers and talk. It's 8:00 AM.
Auroville, India
Thursday, June 19, 08
Today, I have planned a visit to Auroville.
At the Autocare Department, north 2 streets from Jain Street, then 2 doors west, I find a small room. Pressed against the back wall are 2 desks with the sides of the room lined with benches. Inside, I buy my ticket to Auroville and back, Rs 60. Departure is 2:00. Return around 5:45. One Western woman sits opposite me, I'm seated on the right near the opening, and 15 locals occupy the remaining space, standing and sitting. Outside 4 more, plus the driver, stand under two trees looking looking for shade. Maps of Pondy and Auroville, along with photos of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother cover the walls. A small AC unit attempts to cool the room - not much help. Outside is a 24 passenger blue and white bus with "Contract Carriage" across the front. We wait, sweating!
Auroville is not a tourist attraction. Built, a project in "human unity" it is spread over 20 km. with 2000 residents from 39 countries. At the physical and spiritual center of this community is the Matri Mandir, a golden dome of meditation. Inside is the largest crystal (70cm) in the world surrounded by white marble. Casual visitors, such as I, are not allowed inside except with special permission which I don't have.
Arriving at
the information center, the group is shown a video of the origins of Auroville and the creation of the Matri Mandir. Then, walking the 1 km, we stand on a small knoll and glance from a distance. Even from here, the size and stature of such an undertaking is felt.
Someone near me asks what I'm feelin
g. Feeling? There is a sense in me that the dome should be open so that the light can shine - more like a lotus.
The return trip is to visit a Kali temple - no photos allowed. All men are told to remove their shirts, down to bare chests, and shoes, naturally, and walk down steps into an interior chamber. Cost Rs 1. Here, standing along a railing we gaze at the image of Kali the Destroyer. An attendant walks among us placing red kumkum powder on our foreheads or in our palms. This is my first forehead powder since arriving in India, a very common sight. Retrieving my banian and kurta, flip flops later, we are led to a symbol of Lord Shiva and then to look at the standing image of Kali, 73 m tall.
Back in Pondy, I have a cup of coffee and walk the waterfront home.
Today, I have planned a visit to Auroville.
At the Autocare Department, north 2 streets from Jain Street, then 2 doors west, I find a small room. Pressed against the back wall are 2 desks with the sides of the room lined with benches. Inside, I buy my ticket to Auroville and back, Rs 60. Departure is 2:00. Return around 5:45. One Western woman sits opposite me, I'm seated on the right near the opening, and 15 locals occupy the remaining space, standing and sitting. Outside 4 more, plus the driver, stand under two trees looking looking for shade. Maps of Pondy and Auroville, along with photos of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother cover the walls. A small AC unit attempts to cool the room - not much help. Outside is a 24 passenger blue and white bus with "Contract Carriage" across the front. We wait, sweating!
Auroville is not a tourist attraction. Built, a project in "human unity" it is spread over 20 km. with 2000 residents from 39 countries. At the physical and spiritual center of this community is the Matri Mandir, a golden dome of meditation. Inside is the largest crystal (70cm) in the world surrounded by white marble. Casual visitors, such as I, are not allowed inside except with special permission which I don't have.
Arriving at
the information center, the group is shown a video of the origins of Auroville and the creation of the Matri Mandir. Then, walking the 1 km, we stand on a small knoll and glance from a distance. Even from here, the size and stature of such an undertaking is felt.Someone near me asks what I'm feelin
g. Feeling? There is a sense in me that the dome should be open so that the light can shine - more like a lotus.The return trip is to visit a Kali temple - no photos allowed. All men are told to remove their shirts, down to bare chests, and shoes, naturally, and walk down steps into an interior chamber. Cost Rs 1. Here, standing along a railing we gaze at the image of Kali the Destroyer. An attendant walks among us placing red kumkum powder on our foreheads or in our palms. This is my first forehead powder since arriving in India, a very common sight. Retrieving my banian and kurta, flip flops later, we are led to a symbol of Lord Shiva and then to look at the standing image of Kali, 73 m tall.
Back in Pondy, I have a cup of coffee and walk the waterfront home.
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