Painfully detailed. Yet not enough.

You know what one of my very first thoughts about India was? I had just stepped out of the airport and was not even close to being in the real India yet, and I peeked into a trash can. The contents were the most disgusting grime. Anything with form that could have possibly been used for any reason had already been extracted, and the remains were the most decomposed grimy waste. India certainly has a very different idea of waste than in the west. I often see people's sense of agency over their surroundings reflecting a great deal of creativity, and not being plagued by the same taboos that prevent people in the west from making the same choices. However, I don't think I could ever understand the complexities of caste and class, social order and who can do what. On my way over here I saw a man who couldn't walk scooting himself along the ground on a little scooter with wheels by his hands, which he had flip flops on. I've seen variations of this sort of thing many many times in India (however less so in Dharamsala). I wanted to learn what these people know about being human. They obviously experience it differently than me. Well... people do what they have to do. That seems pretty universal.

India hit slowly, like an acid trip. I was outside the airport, and although the people seemed different (they were Indian... not Thai after all) I was still surrounded by familiar input. Peoples paripersonal space and attitudes didn't seem out of the ordinary, and the setting wasn't too unusual. Upon getting into the cab and driving to our hotel, one by one the familiar factors faded away and the rush and flurry of India hit hard. With each new observation I was put more and more into the moment until maybe 20-30 minutes into it I had the realization that I was IN IT. There was no more familiar left. I was fully in my trip without really being aware of or tracking the process of getting there. Kolkata especially is everything... every kind of person in every stage of living and dying. The rush was absurd. Crossing the street was a huge adrenaline rush.

Being where I am now, having been in India a month and now on my own more or less, is just making me reflect on the beginning. The thought came to me a few days ago that perhaps a little part of me was born upon first getting to India. This sounds a little silly, but maybe it is true. The group left yesterday evening, and I am still here in Dharamsala. Jared and Colin are still here for a few more days in the same hotel as me, so the transition is a little gradual.

But lets see... must catch up on the last week or so. A lot has been happening. I returned from the trek early and found myself with a full day to myself, nothing planned to do, no aims, and no one from my group around (although the high school group and some of the leaders were still around). I wanted to find a friend I had met who was likely leaving the area soon, a french circus performer named Rico who Jessica and I had danced and hula hooped with before leaving on the trek. I spent most of the morning that morning walking around. I hate to admit that I was mostly just looking for him, but I really didn't have a lot else to do, and didn't know what else to be doing with myself. I eventually decided to walk to the waterfall down Bhagsu road, where I wasn't likely to find him, but I just felt like the walk and hadn't yet been to the waterfall. On my way I passed some Tibetan women selling things at the side of the road and stopped to try out some singing bowls. I've been on the hunt for the perfect singing bowl to buy (and have since then found it) and wanted to buy from a Tibetan, not someone with a shop and a lot of money. The singing bowls were overpriced and although the woman wanted to bargain with me and get my final price, I declined, telling her I didn't want to buy one for less than it was worth. There was a Tibetan boy there too, who had been walking along and stopped there while this whole transaction was happening, and then followed behind me as I continued to walk. We began talking, and he was a nice guy, spoke pretty good English. I askef him if there was a dance school this direction, because I'd heard there was, and he thought there might be, so we walked together trying to find it for a little awhile without success. After that I asked him where the waterfall was, and he said he was going that way and would walk me there. Told me he was going to a birthday part for a baby, and after walking and talking for a few more minutes he invited me to come. I decided why not, what else did I have to do?

Getting to the spot involved a river crossing and climbing on some rocks. His friends were all a little older and very nice. I wondered how they felt about a westerner at their party, and having to speak some English instead of just Tibetan, but they didn't seem to mind too much. It was really enjoyable. I played cards with them (played a game somewhat similar to poker and lost about 50 rupees), ate their homemade food and tea, and watched the little kid who was turning 3 open his presents and get blessed with Khatas. I got a chance to talk to the guy more, Sonam. He seemed like a really great person. His actions really painted him that way, anyway. He took really good care of his friends kid and seemed to have a good relationship with him. He also spoke fluent Hindi, and when an Indian man came over needing to get flowers from a tree to make Chili, Sonam climbed it for him to pick the flowers without being asked. He told me that he really thought the young should try and help the old. He was also an amazing Tanka painter and glass blower. I spent more of the day than intended at the waterfall with them, and then was invited to dinner at their house, where I ate Tibetan soup and watched a weird Korean movie.

Next day I went to Namgyal Monestary, the Dalai Lamas monastery with Sonam and his friend. He was going there to pick up a name given by the Dalai Lama for his friends baby born in Tibet. Apparently Tibetans want the Dalai Lama to name their kids often, and it is especially special for people in Tibet who don't have any official contact with the Dalai Lama. The name was Tenzin somethingorother... Apparently all the kids named by the Dalai Lama have the first name Tenzin, the Dalai Lamas name. There was also a long line in the temple to get a blessing from the Sakya Lama. I wasn't aware there was a Sakya lama, in fact I had been told there wasn't one. I think that is just what the people were referring to him as, wherein he was just the head of the Sakyapa buddhists. We waited in the line for awhile and were quickly shuffled through. Grabed, pulled over to present out Khatas, have them put around our necks and then pushed to bend over and be hit on the crown of the head with...something... by the Sakya Lama, and then shoved over to be given a red string with a knot in it and then shoved away. Sonam, who wanted to give a donation, endured much more pushing and shoving while I waited nearby still in the zone of being pushed and shoved by the masses of people going by. Have I mentioned how triggered I've become by being pushed and shoved? Many of my religious experiences in India have involved a great deal of pushing and shoving, especially at Kalighat in Kolkata to even get a glimpse at Kali's three eyes inside the temple. The intensity and fervor of people to even get close to the divine is something else.

hmmm.... More happened, not going into it.

Jessica, Max and Simon and I spent the next 2 days at a homestay in lower Dharamsala. Lower Dharamsala, unlike upper Dharamsala, is mostly Hindu, whereas upper is a mixture of Indians, Tibetans and travelers with an enormous Tibetan influence as it is the spot of the Tibetan Government in Exile and the Dalai Lama. the family was really great. Really wealthy, too, which I didn't expect. We were served Chai and good Indian food many times a day. It was an opportunity to lok more deeply into family and gender roles in Indian families. We made friends with the nephews of the family, who took us out on a walk the first night. We walked along to a temple that was tilted due to an earthquake many many years ago. We then just continued walking for several hours, in awe of the beauty and peace of the area. Probably the most peaceful place I've been in all of India! It almost didn't make sense. The boys walking with us were great, too. Really funny, good at making us laugh.

The next day we took a bus to another spot in lower Dharamsala to work in a slum on a project that a Tibetan Monk started called the Tong Lin project. Taking a local bus on our own was quite the adventure, standing up and holding on on the windy roads in a crowded orange bus with blaring baliwood music, Krishna at the wheel. It was excellent! Once we got off, getting to the slum was the next challenge. Indian directions are absolutely ineffective. We had to ask every 20 meters or so to ensure we were going the right way, and were still misdirected many many times. I think part of it also has something to do with the nature of what we were trying to find, a slum. Something cast off to the collective unconscious, a blind area for most people, I discovered. Many people were either unaware of or unwilling to tell us where it was. We eventually found it and worked with the whole group on painting the inside of the school to make a positive learning environment.

Well, I think I've exhausted too much of my internet time, so I'll have to finish this later. Maybe eventually my blogging will actually catch up with the present moment.