Varanasi

There is so much to say.

This is our sixth of nine days in this holy city on the Ganges. In that time, all remaining healthy members of the group got their first taste of Indian sickness (Dylan and Trevor). No need to worry parents, everyone is healthy now and stronger for their struggles with unfamiliar looking bowel movements. Please excuse the crudity. Meanwhile, we have all taken part in a variety of internships, some alone, some together. I won't attempt to be poetic in telling you the names of all the internships, they are as follows: jewelry making, stone carving, tabla drumming, sitar, classical Indian singing, Bollywood dance, fire dance, Indian cooking, and Hindi language (required for everyone).

I have taken jewelry making, tabla drumming, Hindi, and Indian cooking. Some are better than others. Jewelry making has been quite fulfilling. In just less than one week Nelle and I have actively (with much help) made a block of pure silver turn into two sterling silver ring. The instructor is a jovial third generation jewelry maker that has little pearls of wisdom to share with us while we pound away at the metal objects.

In addition to the internships, we’ve been doing various group activities over the past several days. We’ve heard two lectures now, one from an Indian philosophy professor and another from the head of Guria, an organization working against prostitution and human trafficking. Yesterday, we broke out of our usual neighborhood and took a tour of the larger Varanasi area, stopping to explore two Hindu temples and the BHU historical art museum, which featured stone carvings and paintings from a variety of ages and styles. We then stopped by a theater to see a wonderfully sappy Bollywood romance. Overall, it’s been a highly fulfilling stay in Varanasi, and we’re looking forward to our last few days in this city.

Bodhgaya

We got off the sixteen (but what felt like longer) hour train ride in a sleepy daze. The sun hit us hard as we stepped off of our sleepers and into the plains of India. We realize winter here means the hottest day in summer where most of us come from. We smoothly found rickshaws and easily bargained our prices to get from Gaya to Shechen Monastery in Bodhgaya. We were all pleased to get a breath of fresh air in this less hectec city. The colorful gates of the monastery were inviting and we couldn't believe we were staying in such a peaceful, tranquil, comforting, holy place after the long, dirty nights in Kolkatta.

These last few days we have been exploring the city, going from temple to monastery, Bodhi tree to OM cafe. Some took the day to see the 60 foot Buddha, some meditated their way through the day under the Bodhi tree and the surrounding grounds of the "Main Temple". The Bodhi tree sits next to the "main temple", with its many branches extending shade around the back side of the temple. There are places to sit in the grass, ponds to gaze at, many monks and worshipers coming in and out.

We spent the afternoon yesterday at the Root Institute, getting more in depth with Buddhism, meditation classes, and yoga that the Institute offers. We were able to talk with a Tibetan nun (her name escapes us) who gave us real, straight forward answers to our many questions on Buddhism. The Instituation has a health clinic and many oppurtunities for people to practice Buddhism, and for teachers to go stay offer talks.

A group of us woke up at 6 to join in on the morning prayers the Tibetan monks chanted at our temporary home. It was an awakening experience, full of drumming, horns, rice throwing, and loud chanting. It lasted for an hour leaving us somewhat enlightened, but still ready to go back to sleep.

We all come home with new stories and new experiences, new friends, and new ideas. From palm reading to foot reflexology, from meditation under the holy Bodhi tree, to being able to see all the different forms of Buddhism. Japanese to Tibetan, Chinese to Cambodian- They all have their own flair. At times I think we are surprised by Bodhgaya. Some of us expected a more calm, relaxing town where Buddha was enlightened- but we still find Bodhgaya to be the same crazy India we are starting to know and love. There is still a very fast paced energy- especially because the Durga Puja is still being celebrated. There is a party mentality lingering in the air- techno music blasting from trucks carrying Durga, and loud fire works and bon fires. This morning the Puja floats were dumped into the river. After months of preparation and three days of celebration, the hard work and good times float down the river.

Luckily, Bodhgaya offers SO many sanctuaries to go and get a real breath of fresh air. We found the people are friendly and helpful, and the city itself i think is one we will all want to visit again.

Tomorrow morning around 4AM we leave for Varanasi. We cant believe we have concluded our time here in Bodhgaya, but we are all so excited to see what Varanasi has to offer. Bring it on, India!

"The most happening festival of the Bengalis"

Hello everyone, its Christmas, or so it appears in rickety old Kolkata now that Durga Puja is in full swing. The town has been taken over by lights and shoppers, eager to be ready in time for the festival. The actual festivities involve walking around "trick or treat" style to visit the many temporarily erected shrines to the Goddess Durga who slayed "Asura" to reestablish peace and sanctity for all. The shrines range from the dramatic to the caricaturesque with all themes and mediums in between. Amanda was recently reading about one eco-friendly shrine, erected by a group of students, that won an award and praises in the press for its design. The ones we got to see included small, local shrines made in the traditional reds, oranges, and golds, a handful of bizarre neon stands with mechanical tributes to Britney Spears and the popular "Three Idiots" from the more popular feature film, one Egyptian themed pyramidal shrine, with Durga represented as an Egyptian Pharaohess( I know I'm making up words as I go but India has a way of invoking its own lexicon), a couple of decked out, regal shrines complete with fancy chandeliers and heavy traffic at little fairs in which we got to ride the sketchier incarnations of dragon rides and Ferris wheels. One of my personal favorites was one done entirely in white with the exception of the faces of Durga, her beasts, and her victim, thereby heightening the tension encompassed by this epic moment and highlighting the dramatism of each figure's expression. All modes of Indian expression seem to carry with them this high drama, this need for color and embellishment, be it a Bollywood movie, a traditional dance, a mystical prayer, or the laments of a beggar trying to inspire pity in a couple of naive foreigners, however no place that we've visited so far comes close to the pure, unadulterated carnage and chaos of Kalighat, a temple for Kali, the goddess of destruction, where the tension is literally "cut through with a knife" each time a goat is slaughtered to the booming of drums and the violent exclamations of violent worshippers.
Inside Kalighat, or under Kalighat, in a tiny alleyway separating the throngs of Hindus making offerings from the... I hesitate to call them priests but the men more or less receiving the offerings and crowding the black plastic shrine itself, is where we found ourselves. Looking up at the chaos and being flanked and bombarded by people passing or jumping down from the temple "just to see that tiny plastic figurine...it is Kali, right?" says Tiana skeptically after getting a sight of "that little thing" that everyone is fuzzing or more like frenzying over. Oddly enough, seeing a goat slaughtered is hardly the craziest thing we've witnessed, taking into account the organized ritualistic mode in which it was performed. What seemed more scaring about it was looking at a live creature and knowing it was about to be dead for some and seeing the severed head gushing blood in one corner while the twitching body kept moving for what felt like an eternity in the opposite side of the pen. An odd family affair, this butchering, but the temple was nonetheless crowded by entire families with children and babies embellished with eyeliner, black bindis and all. We saw worshipers put their head between the two little pillars where the goat was later decapitated and men breaking coconuts, splashing the contents and breaking the shell as a prelude to the massacre. My natural instinct was to hide behind Tiana and close my eyes, India is a lot like that, it throws shit your way without really giving you time to think about how you want to act so all you have to fend for yourself is your gut reaction. Defenseless in the face of clashing consciousnesses, all crowding the space and making navigation in both the physical and spiritual sense dizzying and all but impossible. JUST NOW Titi and I were forced to leave this computer so as not to miss a throng of dancing men accompanying a statue of Durga that is about to be disposed of somehow and we wonder, in lieu of a holy river, what creative option will be coined. In terms of clashing consciousnesses we now find ourselves in Bodhgaya, the birthplace of Buddhism, where most of the team sits and meditates in a peaceful gompa with monks, nuns, and sanghas, at the Root Institute, just a rickshaw ride away, separated from us and the Durga commotion by a handful of monasteries and temples crowded into this tiny town.
Other highlights include:
John, our "FRIEND NOT TOUR GUIDE," falling off of a moving bus as he attempted to get us home safely after herding us around the Kolkata Pujas.
Most of us projectile vomiting within a day and half, I'll refrain from going into the details, we're all okay now. (This is also the reason why my blogging was delayed, and for that I sincerely apologize.)
Finishing our volunteer work and being left with all the lingering questions that such work inspires.
And just all around having to watch our heads, our belongings, where we step, where we eat, where the rest of the group is, where we're going, and where we are, not to mention the moving traffic and occasional cow.

(Hola Ma, Hola Pa! Estoy en India!)
Cheers!
Andi

Calcutta, cal cut ya

Hello world, its been far too long since our last blog. Happy to report that we are all still alive and kicking. This addition to the blog is being typed up by yours truly Nichlas Stephens. When you last left the group we were in the high mountain village of Darjeeling, known for its quality teas and fresh air, things have taken a drastic turn as we descended that towards the train station to Calcutta. First of all, there was a strike the day we left for the train so we had trouble finding a driver. Our driver ended up being of the same union but was willing to compromise for us. WE made a decline into the plains after 5 hours of bumpy jeep riding. In the distance, we grew nearer and nearer to a mysterious golden triangle which ended up being a Hindu temple in the jungle. Entering our first village of the plains we emerged back into the long lost humidity we thought we'd left behind in Delhi. I'd been a long week and a half since our bodies were coated in perspiration. The driver in our vehicle playing us a dis contorted Hindi version of hotel California over and over, which felt fitting as the town seemed like a continuous loop of buildings to the sides, palm trees and strike check point of crazy men who surrounded our jeeps as we roared passed.
Arriving in the train station Parking lot, our jeep was blasting Akron which our driver played after hearing we were mainly all from America. BAD IDEA. Our car was surrounded with beggars, to the extreme extent that we hadn't quite seen yet. After altitude sickness and taking care of own bodies, it was hard to see the little girls carrying slings of their younger brother, (or what rather looked more like an alien) not supporting their neck, and just holding it in front of you like you had some part in creating it's god awful situation. As well as the mother standing aside while her naked children ran to us from the garbage piles, scouring for food and then holding their hands out for money. I gave them all the bananas in my bag. The sudden guilt, I know many of us didn't believe we'd ever have the desire to eat again. The heat and the shame, inescapable as we tred towards the station with our bags weighing us down. Having another 2-3 hours until leaving for Calcutta we tried to find refuge in a secret location, only to be found again by the children, dancing for our amusement and requesting to play Dylan's drum. Trying to offer them something more or less than what we need, we let them share their smiles and well rehearsed dance moves with us for a short while before being scurried off to another location to weight for the train. One has to wonder if they had been taught those moves to make a quick rupee or if it was in their soulful blood to dance to the rhythm of the drum.
In despair we sit an mope in the station, having been drained of all the humility left in our hearts we cling desperately to walls and our bags trying to process the scene. The smell of garbage fills the air and we once again find ourselves surrounded by begging children. Dylan suggests we play them music which turns into a purging of emotion and energy. Loud strumming breaks three of my guitar strings as we meet eye to eye with every walk of life. The music rages out of Dylan and I and as if sounding like being caught in a hurricane dylan wails don't stop. His beats, my melodies, the rest of our group sitting by givi9ng what they can, if they can. It felt good to have something to give. Like closed buds of Venus fly traps opening to digest flies.
Aboard the train we think we are home free from anybody expecting anything from us. But children with brooms sweep at our feet asking for our water and food. Sitting next to an Indian man i ask him if his father is nearby, making him pester us, and he smiles and nods to me as if i am catching on. Our train cars fastened with minimum beds hanging from the walls, and my seat having a window. When the train got going I sat silent with the breeze. Trying not to feel selfish for not wanting to share my bed, after learning to either close myself off of open myself up to the world of poverty. I fall asleep to the peace of my favorite music. Not being one of the unfortunate ones to be waken up in the middle of the night, having my ass pinched by the transvestite trying to collect money from us. Eli explains how furiously told the beggar to leave having had enough of being bothered and woken up in such miserable circumstances. Dylan on the other had sleeping through the ass pinching never got to experience the inconvenience of what the transvestite had to offer. Apparently a Hindu family earlier in the ride gave rupees to him had claimed transvestites being an incarnation of Krishna or Vishnu, which is unsurpassably weird, considering Indian's disposition with homosexuality. We all wake up early right as we arrive at our destination. Calcutta, we get off the train to view the grey skies, much different than those beautiful clouds we left behind in Darjeeling. Or those snow caps of the Himalayas. We were now choked with the hot exhaust of the city as we took curious taxis to our hotel. After much confusion we all arrived, walked down the alley way past the dead body, improvised brick urinal, and the dark room where people were bathing, into our dear hotel paramount. Getting situated into our rooms we all decided to lay down having not gotten much sleep on the train. The restlessness kicked in pretty soon, and we all went out in search of a restaurant to catch up on our diets of three meals a day. Luckily we found a place with air conditioning and sat sipping mango lassies and eating thalis. Back at the hotel we prepared for the day ahead getting oriented at the mother Teresa orientation. Many of us slept, some explored more, others retreated to the comforts of solitude of friends. I can't say this for everybody but i was beginning to feeling a closer kinship with our group than I have felt with anybody, all these experiences all this endurance. The next day came and we walked down the streets, passed the communist rally and the decaying fruit stands, coconut shells filling the streets. We wander what feels like aimlessly, until we find the mother Teresa house.
People there of all cultures, there with the intention to make a difference in the suffering of this city of 14 million, the poorest people in the world. We split up into groups of languages, Andi having an opportunity to reconnect with her roots by speaking Spanish with some Spaniards, and I connecting with a girl from Rome. Our group came together to discuss the reality that many beggars are well taken care of but continue begging as a lifestyle because they are making so much money from the tourists sympathy, we learn about the different mother Teresa centers to volunteer at and decided that day where we'd be spending the next week.
That night we went out to treat ourselves to a movie. Many went and caught a glimpse of Indian culture on the big screen, some others went back to the hotel while I wandered down streets aimlessly trying to get a feel for my surroundings. "Hashish" old men with wrinkly skin would come up and murmur at me, I'd wave them off and continue down the road, into a market, only to be pestered by everyone I'd seen to buy everything i saw. Desperate to talk to somebody who wasn't trying to sell me something, i run into two middle aged women. I should have known not to get mixed up with them with they were the fist women I'd met to shake my hand and clutch my arm after agreeing to have chai with them. Sitting on a muddy stoop, the woman's sick child's foot touching my leg, I try to have a normal conversation. Getting interrupted every now and then to be asked for rupees, my sympathy gets the best of me and I offer over 500 rupees, so that these woman could supposedly buy plastic to stay dry when it rained. There is no doubt that these woman are poor, but it wasn't for a few days that i realized that this would never change these woman's lives.
They would always be begging, so the next day i agreed to meet them for a walk to the park so that they could share with me their story. Back at the hotel i had a hard time communicating my experience. Everybody was thoroughly wiped out and we all rested the best we could preparing for our last day before mother Teressa. After breakfast i met back with the woman and they took me to the "science city" I have to admit even though i was paying for everything, it was nice not have to arguing the taxi driver into a cheaper price, on account of my Indian friends. After the day at the amusement park it was hard to feel our experience was worthwhile as they begged me from the next seat over in the cab for food for their babies, this is when i learned to ignore beggars. After getting left off I only felt let down. I walked to the new hotel we had moved to and the group recounted their experience dealing with the beggars. Nobody was having an easy go at the city and we all had intense things to say about Calcutta.
In the morning we woke up at a grueling 7 o clock to make out way to group breakfast with the other volunteers. Bananas, white bread, and chants to Jesus, prepared us for our day of charity work. The guys all boarded the bus on our way to Nabu Jabon, the center for all male patients with mental and physical disabilities. The smog thickened as we moved further away from the dark brown river and the tourists far from few. The first bus station/half flea market we stood awaiting our next chariot, with only the knowledge of a few numbers to our heads. We finally catch the right bus and stare out the windows at the flooded streets. Arriving at Nabu Jabon, we are greeted by a toothless gentle man with a pirates swagger. His laugh resembling a shrill squeal as we namaste everyone trying to figure out who is sane. Setting down our bags and getting down to business half of us clip the fingernails of the decrypted and the other half stomp on soapy peed on boys shorts, rinsing, wringing, and hanging up to dry a top the roof of the facility. Going down to meet our new friends we shake hands with all the the children. Many having sobered on hands and eyes that cannot stay focused on anything. We slowly begin to realize that many of these children aren't too disabled but in fact "run the show", they show us who is needing bibs at lunch and needs their wheel chair pushed, in between clapping our rhythms that is our only form of communication with these kids. Percussion speaks louder than words, well unless the children release one of their famous shrill screams. This work is hard gratifying, and afterwords its nice to return home to our hotel after the rush hour bus has us standing for 2 hours, sweating and cursing the fact that all we have to look forward to is coming back the next day and the next. Luckily we the work gets slowly more rewarding as we connect with these children, after the 4th day it's starting to feeling like home.

Back from Trekkin, Hello Darjeeling!

Finally back in the city after a long week of trekking in the Himalayas (specifically on Kachanjunga, located in East Sikkim). This morning we said goodbye to Arthur, our contact in Sikkim who has been absolutely wonderful. He will be missed as we continue our journey.

It's great to be back in the city, taking bucket baths and sleeping in a real bed. ...Someone is doing our laundry as we speak! I think everyone is pretty excited to get some clean clothes on. We just arrived about an hour ago to our hostel, located just down the street. I noticed they had an amazing book selection from other travelers and I'm eager to check out the selection! other group members have been rummaging through local bookshops and finding some great reads as well. There are many westerners in Darjeeling (at least on this street). Darjeeling is much like Bangtok; steep roads packed with buildings, dogs running around on the streets, although it consists of a different, unique charm that we all have taken a liking to. We're close to Nepal and so many of the people are Asian in origin. many woman rep traditional Indian wear, whereas many of the men look more western in style. In Bangtok we went to a small place called Live and loud and listened to a cover band. We didn't stay long... We're half way around the world; who wants to hear the rock music we grew up on? Our drivers tend to play mostly western music from the early 2000's. It's weird to hear music from middle school when we're flying through Darjeeling back country.

So, a little review on our trek... The first day we walked 7 hours up steep terrain. We were exhausted by the time we got to camp, arriving just after the sun set. The second day was better, walking about 4 hours that day. There were many waterfalls and great views of the mountains around us, although they were difficult to see most of the time as it was pretty cloudy. A majority of the group came down with a cold, so on top of freezing nights, most of us could barely breathe and spent a good amount of time with tissue in hand. My fleece liner actually kept me pretty warm at night, but I heard from a few others that the sleeping bags could barely cut it. We're all finally recovering from out colds (discluding Amanda and Jeff, who just so happened to walk out healthy as ever.) Besides the sickness, being on the trek was awesome. The trails were mostly rocky and sometimes wood was laid out to keep us above mud. Our trip guides led pack animals up that carried most of the gear consisting of ponies and yaks. It was fun dodging animal poo all along the trail ;) For each meal, 3 meals a day with snacks, we had a cooking crew that whipped up some really delicious food. Typically we would be served our large meal and then a hot pot of milk tea (when we got sick they actually made us ginger tea).

Here in Darjeeling many of us went to the zoo/museum on mountain climbing, while others spent time taking in the charms of Darjeeling, sipping tea and taking in its many delights. Some of our group members also visited a local monastery.

We will be here for a few days and then head on to Calcutta (Kolkata). Hope everyone is well at home! I know a good majority of the group is starting to feel a little homesick, so know you are missed!

Much love!

-The group

Goodbye Gangtok

Hello Carpe Diem parents and friends,

Tomorrow the India group begins their six-day trek through the Himalayas. We are sad to be leaving Sikkim so soon but excited for the trip ahead.

Amanda Carnahan, one of the group members, is keeping here own blog on the trip. You can find her blogs at //thirdeyeactivist.blogspot.com/

Mama India

After a thirteen hour plane ride to Hong Kong, a six hour layover, and a four hour flight through Thailand, we arrived safely in Delhi. We spent two days jumping around the bustling city via cab and rickshaw, using the opportunity to buy Indian clothing and musical instruments as well as taking time for a peaceful respite in a local ashram. Delhi offered a wild and unreserved introduction to the many faces of Indian life, from the delicious food and chaotic marketplaces to the naked presence of homelessness and poverty. Our hotel in the Tibetan district provided a space for group orientation while we acquainted ourselves with the country and our fellow group members (including Tiana, who arrived on the last day).

While Jeff stayed in Delhi to search for Dylan’s bag, the rest of the group began a long trek towards Gangtok, Sikkim. A scenic drive through the mountainous northern region brought us to this large Himalayan town, where we met the host of our group home-stay, Arthur. Gangtok, which tumbles beautifully off its steep mountain face, seems rural and calm compared to Delhi. We learned about the history of the Sikkim region, attended a talk on the future of nearby Nepal, and met the owner of a local rug company that we will be working with for the next week. We are currently learning how to operate a loom, dye yarn, and perform the various other tasks involved in rug making.

In several days we will begin our three-day trek through the mountains. We give you our best wishes until the next entry, and hope you wish us a fulfilling and leech-free experience!