Together in San Francisco

Parents, followers, friends, and relatives,

I just heard from our fearless co-leaders, Nick and Stacey, that the San Francisco contingent of students is all together and successfully checked in and through security! They all depart in less than a few hours and what a beginning!

We'll connect with the Seattle folks in Delhi and post a blog accordingly, but for this first leg, everything went smoothly and ... dare I say, auspiciously!

Stay tuned for more from the leaders!

Ethan

Executive Director

Namaste

Hey Ya'll,

We want to welcome everyone to the Carpe Diem India Semester! We are here in Portland, making the final preparations for our journey, and wanted to reach out to everyone that will be with us during the next few months. This blog will be one of our main sources of communication for everyone back home, and a way for all our friends and family to share our many experiences and adventures through the mystical land of India!

As we begin to arrive at SFO on the morning of the 10th, lets plan to meet at the Cathay Pacific Airline check-in counter (In the International Terminal A) @ 8:00 AM, or as soon as your domestic flight arrives. It will be important to give ourselves plenty of time to get everyone together and to go through the check-in process as a group. Also if you run into any problems that morning, and need to get in touch with us, you can call the office from any pay-phone (toll free @ 1.877.285.1808). If you have any other questions or concerns before we take off, you can reach us through email at: indiacarpediem@yahoo.com

Namaste,

Nick and Stacey

"You must be the change you wish to see in the world"_Mahatma Gandhi

Let the Camel Count Begin!

After the eye-opening events and education we had in McLeod Ganj, we left the Tibetan community in the afternoon, waving goodbye to Neema-la--our contact--Max, Santos, our Tibetan families, and the J.J.I. Brothers in Exile--just a few of the vastly interesting and genuine people we met in McLeod. It was raining, freezing, and our feet were promptly given baths when we stepped outside to greet the taxis that would take us to Bir, Kangra. Having heated and spacious taxis made for quite an inviting and comfortable trip! We arrived at the Deer Park Institute just in time for dinner, and after a nights rest, we woke up for our orientation at the institute.
Deer Park is a collaboration of a well-structured monastery and a free school-- it's a place where anyone is welcome to learn, free of charge. One of the DP's main focuses is sustainable living and educating the local population of the current environmental state. The facility has set up composting, recycling, free environmental classes, and solar panel heating for the water and, with the help of some generous Italian men, lighting for a small amount of the houses near Deer Park.
Our week turned into one of relaxation, considering this was one of the first places where we didn't have a concrete schedule. Many of us took time to sleep, read, or..."wasket weave!" About a 45 min. hike up from Deer Park, through the Shivalik valley's and the numerous trees which spotted the village, was a small house where an elderly woman and her husband graciously gave basket weaving lessons. Suz, Chelsea, Isabel, Molly and I took an afternoon adventure up the footpaths to her house to take one lesson in "wasket weaving." We, however, got lost along the way, and stumbled across an Indian wedding--which was no misfortune, in the end. We sat with the grooms family and conversed with his cousins, who were so convinced that we wouldn't eat lunch with them because it was unsanitary, not because we were actually full. We were very full. From lunch. They did not believe us. Thus, we promised to return the next day for the post-wedding celebration for lunch, dancing and festivities.
That, however, was not possible the next day. We learned about lunch time, by Anna and Kelley's genius discovery, that our train tickets were booked a day early for the 18th, not the 19th which we all believed to be true. The group adjusted magnificently and I arranged taxis from Bir to Chandigarh (where our train was departing) which was to be a 7 hour ride and we had 8 hours to make it to the train. Kelley expertly contacted our hotel in Bikaner to enlighten them of our early arrival, while Jake ran into town to grab Molly from her brunch. And, excluding the lurching, jerky taxi ride--where several felt sick--we made it right on time for our 10:25pm train to Bikaner.
Now, our hectic transit and settling into our itinerary for free travel, we are in Bikaner, Rajasthan. Yesterday when our train arrived, we'd been in town for 10 minutes and we had spotted 16 camels-yikes!
Today we went on our first official guided tour through Bikaner's old city--in Molly's words was, "sooo cool!" But really folks, the old-city is what, when you are an outsider and picture India in your mind, it looks and feels like. With our guide, Gouri, we visited the oldest Hindu temple--600 years old--to partake in their daily puja. Compared to the puja's in the past, this one was most vibrant and genuine. The men and women, but mainly men, sang loudly and raised their hands high to Lakshmi; Drew said the man standing next to him had tears running down his face, in deep respect for their goddess of wealth. The experience seemed to be vital to our tour as it showed the passionate spirituality of the Hindus of Bikaner. Through the humbly small, stone streets we found, are you ready for this?, the spice market. That's right. Never had we smelled anything so strongly and so deliciously--because the two often don't correlate in India--on the streets. Half of us bought small containers of saffron, while others bought masala and black tea with which to make Chai Masala back in the United States. Don't worry, friends, I've bought some for all. :)

Alas, we're all very happy to be here, and tomorrow we're in gear for an authentic camel safari through the Rajasthani desert. We'll be spending the night in the magical dunes, like Aladdin. Arabian niiiiiiiight!

Punjabi pants required.

Molly and Olivia

Different Demographics

Walking through the streets of McLeod Ganj, Dharamshala, home of the Tibetan Government and community in exile, it's a far cry from the India we've grown accustomed to. Each of us is living with a Tibetan family where we sleep and eat breakfast and dinner but that is where the similarity of our schedules ends. During the day we peruse the various shops (holiday gifts!), pursue different internships, go on stunningly beautiful walks, and seek avenues to learn about the exiled Tibetans' situation.
Morning is my favorite time here. I wake up to my Momo-la (grandmother), whom I share a room with, praying and then sip some boiled water with ginger. Then I set out on a walk with my Pa-la(father). We follow a path through the woods which leads to a monastary and old people's home where many Tibetans go each morning to pray and catch up. We then continue on to the Dalai Lama's temple, a modest yet large structure nestled in the hills, before returning home to breakfast. My least favorite part of the morning is trying to gulp down Tibetan tea, composed of butter and salt, and I'm not sure that my Western tastes will succeed in enjoying it. Luckily, we are in the place where momos can be found on every street corner so we never go hungry!
As for internships, flyers are plastered to every free wall advertising everything from Tibetan massage to wood carving to Tai Chi. We have all dabbled in one or two of these opportunities and found the possibilities a little overwhelming. There is so much going on here with lectures, movies, concerts, and just meeting the other western travellers and Tibetan refugees that it is impossible to attend everything that piques our interest. I learned some Tibetan massage [with my mom in mind =) -Kelley] but the most valuable thing that I will take away from my lessons is the story of our teacher who crossed the Himalayas, risking his life, to make it to Dharamsala. The refugees have established schools, institutions, and communities here; but it is not home. It is not Tibet.
The Chinese occupation of Tibet began in 1959 when the Chinese marched into Tibet, claiming to be freeing the Tibetans of "Anglo-American rule", which they had coincidently never heard of (the Chinese were lying). They havent left since. Tibetans are not allowed to practice their religion (Buddhism) freely; whether that means that they are watched, monitered, and controlled in their religious expressions (prayer, prostration, etc) or forbidden from places of worship and thrown in jail on absurd charges, the Tibetans no longer experience their basic freedoms in the land that now, no longer belongs to them. Tibetans, led mainly by His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama, are putting up a strong resistance to the Chinese occupation. Backed by the international community (for the most part) Tibetans campaign for the freedom of their people and the independence of their country; however, they are committed to carrying out this resistance through non-violent means. The Chinese do not share this opinion. Tibetan monks who have dedicated their lives to the dharma (holy teachings) and strongly abide it's non-violent teachings protest peacefully for their freedom, and are met with the fantastically violent means that the Chinese police use to halt their demonstrations. Monks are openly shot at, cars lit on fire, and people beaten ruthlessly left and right. One such occasion occured last March (2008), and last night a few of us heard the story of an extraordinary man who was shot twice trying to save the life of a monk. This man, Tsewang Dhondup, was shot once in the elbow and once in the ribs, near his left kidney. Both bullets went straight through his body. Without receiving care, he was instead forced to hideout in the mountains of Tibet for 14 months while the Chinese government searched for him. The Chinese government controls all hospitals and medical distributions in Tibet, and because Tsewang's name had been placed on the country's most wanted list, he was unable to have his wounds cared for. The bullet wounds became infected, and his flesh decayed and was infested with maggots. For 14 months he survived solely on personal strength, perseverence, and with the assistance of four villagers who found him and took care of him. Convinced to not have endured all this for naught, Tsewang and those who helped care for him escaped from Tibet into Nepal under the nose of the Chinese government and from there, made their way to Dharamshala. Tsewang shares his story with travelers like us in order to raise awareness about the situation in Tibet, which I am ashamed to say I knew very little about before coming here. Most of us are living with Tibetan families for our homestays and I know that after learning about the situation in Tibet, it put everything in a whole new light. I myself am staying with an old(ish) couple, both of whom are Tibetan. They are not young enough to have been born in exile, so it became clear to me that the very people who provide blankets, food, and smiles for me every day had to escape from Tibet at some point in their lives and come here. To even begin to fathom the hardships they endured in coming here makes my heart hurt, and I am no less than astounded at the goodness and generosity they have in welcoming us into their homes. We are in India, but that becomes easy to forget when surrounded by the largely Tibetan culture that McLeod Ganj consists of. It is heartbreaking to realize that these people are here because they are foreigners in their own land, not allowed within its borders and without much hope in ever returning to the land they once called their own. And despite all this, I walk the streets greeted brightly with smiles from all directions and good mornings called out by those who cross my path. The Tibetan spirit is far from destroyed. It lives strong here in Dharamshala, and one day, hopefully, will be given the opportunity to return to its land. Until then, it makes for an incredible atmosphere to be a part of.
Tashi delek (thats the extent of the Tibetan we've picked up, it means hello but will have to suffice here)
Kelley and Anna

Shiva Shiva Shiva Shambo...

The first real group celebration we had in India was Olivia's 19th birthday, which took place on the train to Delhi. We were living high in the AC Class for that train ride, compared to the non-AC we normally take. We surprised Olivia with an Indian favorite of chocolate balls made by a nice man named Papu from Varanasi, and shared the extra with the Indian residence in our compartment.
We arrived in Delhi to eat at the poshest restaurant we've been to so far, probably for the duration of the trip, except it wasn't Indian food, it was Chinese. But great Chinese food.
Back to the train we went after the meal to reach our next and more permanent destination for the next week: Rishikesh. The train took us to Hardiwar where, because the taxis and rickshaws were on strike, we struggled to find a cheap ride to Rishikesh. The next few days we had free to roam around the immaculate holy city--compared to Varanasi, very, very clean--walking through the popular street market, buying local fruit, strolling through the ashrams that were near, gawking at monkeys and miniature cows, and taking refreshing dips in the Ganga. The Ganga in Rishikesh is worlds cleaner than the downstream Ganga in Varanasi.
The high point of Rishikesh was the nightly pujas' the town had for locals and traveler's alike. Seated on ghats in front of a giant statue of Shiva, hundreds of people gather for the nightly worship wearing their traditional bangles, bindis, and being barefoot. It was a educational and spiritual experience to witness the Hindu worship surrounded by natives and the holy Ganga.
We had a few mishaps in Rishikesh--Maggie, reading alone our group-room, was startled to look up from her book and see two monkeys rifling through our garbage and eating Chelsea's cookies! Wisely, Maggie didn't do anything rash, and huddled in the corner behind her book. The monkeys' left the way they came--through our front door. Second mishap, Olivia went to puja the next night and, feeling so comfortable and at home in this welcoming city, was unaware that her shoes were stolen during prayer. Ironic! No worries, she found it amusing and had a nice walk home the way many Indians do--barefoot.
The most adrenaline-pumping activity we've had in India we did in Rishikesh: rafting the mighty Ganga. The rapids we much more intense then we expected, but luckily we didn't flip. Apparently we work well as a group--fancy that! But we had the chance to body surf through the minor rapids, and near the end of the ride we cliff jumped into the Ganga. They say that drinking Ganga pani (Ganga water) is the holiest of holy acts you can do to cleanse and absolve your sins, then we are all saints. Plenty of bathing and Ganga drinking went on that day. :)

From Rishikesh we went about 30minutes to the Phool Chatti Ashram for a 6 day, yoga-intensive/meditative retreat. We had a fairly strict schedule, but we all took the time we needed to decompress in this beautiful valley in the Himalayas. The ashram hugged the banks of the Ganga, and, constructed like a small compound, the ashram roofs offered a great place to relax and just think. We would wake up at 5:30am to meditate, chant, netti cleanse our noses, Ayurvedic breathing, and do 90minutes of yoga, all before breakfast. The meals were simple and so delicious. Just basic chapati, dhal, rice, chutney, and vegetables--this makes up what they call a Thali. We had mid-morning walks with and without the group to explore the Ganga beaches, the jungle around us and the villages near by. This was by far everyone's favorite part of the day. The nature around us was so vast and deep, it was like being a child again and feeling the wonder of new discoveries.
Ashram life grew on all of us, waking early, living simply, eating silently and feeling at home. Laleeta ji, our yoga and course intsructor, told many stories of Gurus and holy men. She tipped on how to tell true holy men and untrue holy men apart, something we were all wondering about. The swamis who are the head honchos of the ashram are like bishops in the Catholic church. We couldn't interact much with them, but when they were near us we could feel their wisdom radiating from their eyes. Except when Chelsea saw one ride away on a motorbike, his beard blowing in the wind. Who knew! Every night we would partake in the ashram puja and then chant around their fire pit, which seemed to be a, for the most part, ritualistically relaxing for the mind. We sang the song Shiva Shiva Shiva Shambo, Hare Krishna Hare Rama, Sri Ram Jai Ram Jai Jai Ram, and Om Ganga Mai Ganga. Repetitive but beautiful, because this is the ashram life: simple, ritualistic, and pure.

We're now in Chandigarh for a few days to learn about Sikhism and visit the famed Nek Chand Fantasy Rock Garden. It was constructed by one man out of an array of recycled items, making sculptures, fountains and other structures of art. We go to Amritsar in a couple of days and, speaking for the group, the Golden Temple has been something we've been looking forward to.

Shanti aur prem,
Olivia & Chelsea

Welcome to the Holy City.

We arrived in the Hindu Holy city of Varanasi after a short train ride from Bodhgaya the night of the 12th, welcomed by dry air, refreshing bright lights, and freedom from constant threat of mosquito attack. The city is, in my personal opinion, lovely - it sits comfortably on the river Ganga and is filled with more half dressed holy men than I ever thought possible. The river is really a mystery; despite being said to heal the soul with a "simple" bath (freeing one not only from sin but the continuous cycle of rebirth) and exsiting as one of the spiritual center points to the Hindu population in Varanasi, the Ganga is undoubtely one of the dirtiest bodies of water known to man. Trust me on this one, it is absolutley beautiful. Greeting a new day with a short yoga practice on the roof of our current abode, one can get an amazing view of the seemingly endless lazy river. Stretching out for miles and reflecting the warm Indian sun, it is home to trash, blind dolphins, and unfortunetly, half burnt bodies (this is due to the "burning ghats", Varanasi's ghat known for the large number of cremations performed there on a daily basis). Again, I find myself comfortable and completley content with India's traditions remaining a mystery. Over these next few days the 10 of us travelers find ourselves in the mix of the busy city - learning Hindi in the mornings with our teacher Pinku Ji, and splitting up in the afternoons to intern in different areas around the city. I am very excited about this considering I seem to be benefiting greatly from the different skills and practices our group is picking up. Not only do i get to enjoy the beautiful sound of Olivia recieving vocal lessons on classical Indian song, but I am soon to be the recipient of a daily aryuvedic message (of course I am helping Anna in her personal quest to heal the soul, yes I am helping). This should be a great learning experience for all of us, growing not only in our personal skills, but also in our ability to learn from another culture. I truly believe that all of us really are experiencing the spiritually uplifting part of Varanasi, for some that may come in the form of a friendly Hindi driven connection with a local, a glimpse of a half naked holy man's need for a little more clothing, or a heavenly message. Maybe the Ganga has more to offer than meets the eye.
Last week, however, was a stark contrast to the city we are in now; we stayed at a semi monastic center in Bodhgaya, the birthplace of Buddhism, and participated in a silent meditation retreat. Spirtually uplifting for some and just plain annoying for others, the teachings taught us a variety of things... if nothing else, to practice patience. Venerable David taught us twice a day and we participated in three meditation sessions a day. On the last day we visited a temple dedicated to the bodhi tree Buddha attained enlightenment under 2500 years ago for a sunrise meditation. Bodhgaya was a beautiful place, but I think we are all thankful to be able to converse again.

peace and love
Maggie Mae and Anna

Our last day in Kolkata

Tonight we leave Kolkata; when the group left Sikkim I thought it impossible that I would be able to fall in love with any other part of India. But I have, and I will truly miss the home I've made for myself here. Before leaving for India, I was told by anyone that had ever been here that this country was full of contradiction. I believe I love Kolkata because it is a perfect example of that. This city is when I first began to really see that contrast. There is so much beauty and so much poverty at the same time---all on the same street corner. The group has spent the past six mornings giving their time to the less fortunate; people that are suffering from extreme cases of mental and physical handicaps. Then, somehow, we find ourselves eating at nice restaurants, enjoying good company and sleeping in more than adequate rooms. The contradictions are at times difficult to handle, but they cause you to think, and to act. I feel much more aware, and am beginning to appreciate India for everything that it is. During my time here, I have felt more than anything a sense of purpose, because I have people to help and friends to talk to. I think less about myself, and I realize that's a good way to live life. I hope that I can continue to live with a sense of purpose even if I can't remain in Kolkata. I look forward to making new connections, continuing to discover things about myself, and helping more of those in need.

Namaste,
Isabel