Namaste

                Before I left for India, I sat in this very Starbucks and posed the question of how will India change me? I wondered if I’d even come home after the six weeks, if I’d come home with an orphan on my hip, or if I would be changed forever…

                As I sit here with a fading henna tattoo on my right hand, my clothes from India finally laundered, with my legs finally shaved, and with my thoughts and experiences as I write my last India blog- I realize that my India road drenched in sparkle dust has taught me life lessons. Part of me feels glad to be home around cleanliness and a devoid of suffering. The other part of me feels lacking because I accidentally left part of my heart in Dharamsala. So, I have this feeling of incompleteness that follows all my thoughts and footsteps but is balanced out by the piece of my heart that beats joyously in Dhramsala, the town in the clouds that is cuddled up against the beautiful Himalayas.

                A life lesson that I realize now that I really needed to learn concerns the healthy balancing of walls one builds around one’s self. I have been slowly learning this over the past year but India rapidly accelerated the process. We human’s do need some walls to avoid being overwhelmingly empathetic. If we are bearing everyone’s pain we cannot effectively help or do much to trigger social change. However, the barricades that I once built around myself are not necessary or healthy. I spent years and a massive amount of energy trying to block out the world’s pain and trying to not let people too close to me in order to not feel the icky emotions that accompany our lovely and well-rounded human experience. This resulted in a numbness that I will never let myself feel again. So, I now have walls of mesh around me. My mesh walls have chain that keep me from feeling the entire planet’s suffering and holes that let the world in. India taught me to trust the dark paths and dark feelings because they always will get me back to the sparkle dust and after all, sparkle dust is so much shinier in the dark.

                Another wonderful gift I’ve gotten from India is my overwhelming sense of gratitude for the things and people I have. I will never take clean streets, driving laws, child labor laws, air conditioning, or my material possessions for granted again. In fact, the suffering and lack of necessities that I witnessed in a massive amount of people has given me a bit of a guilty conscience that will hopefully keep me in check and prevent me from being frivolous or wasteful again. I really am quite wealthy.

                I certainly now relish in the value of simplicity now more than ever. Being around so many monks who are always content within themselves and without external stimuli was rewarding. Being around earth dwellers that were happy yet had so little was very fulfilling. The Dalai Lama says that material possessions only ever provide temporary happiness because after they are acquired people get anxiety about being dispossessed of them. I’m not sure how long lasting it is, but, I have a desire to have as little “stuff” around me as possible. The pieces of life that matter are so very simple: human relationships, nature, practicing compassion, clean water, healthy food, and a love for oneself. These things are free(except food) and abundant in our country which means that trips to the store and mall should be rare. The contemplation of how I will show love to the world today is an easier goal to fulfill than contemplating how I will get ahead in my career or save up for an expensive car and house.

                India brushed my hair out of my eyes and showed me that I am “home” no matter my positioning on the globe.  I have everything I could ever need within myself. My mind is home to all of my memories, all of my contentment, and the ability to get me anything that I need. My body shelters this mind that I value so much and by body takes good care of me. Fortunately my mind and body are the only things I ever need and they follow me wherever I go making being at home  a beautiful constant.

                I’ve learned how to be more comfortable with raw expression and openness. I had decided to be more of an unguarded and real Kristen on my trip, just for the hell of it, just to see how it felt and I loved it. The emotion and vulnerability that accompanies rawness were not as scary as I had anticipated. In fact, it probably opened me up to a more sparkly experience. It helped me validate to myself just how beautiful life becomes when life is just about following the sparkle dust. The sparkle dust is the only thing that can be trusted; it knows about secret paths and has access to the roads to the most beautiful life experiences.

                India reinforced what a constant balancing act the world is. In my six weeks in India I saw the darkest and the lightest parts of the world that I had seen in all of my 26 years as an earth dweller so far. I can’t unsee the suffering I saw and even though it affects my sleep, I still don’t want to unsee it. I’m sure I’ll keep my newfound darkness with me forever and it is okay. I’ll rummage across this darkness in the back of my mind like I rummage across things I forgot I had in the bottom of my purse. Both are things that I forgot I had yet had with me all the time. With that said, I’ll also carry with me in a place nested safe within the part of my mind where my favorite memories and love are stored, how much sparkliness India showed me and then bestowed upon me. My favorite sparkly addition- my new and lifelong friend, Dhondulp, who is also a vessel to help me further my Buddhist philosophy education.

                Lastly, and I don’t know if or how long this one will last, India has shown me a necessary shedding of vanity. I went six weeks without wearing makeup, drying my hair, or shaving much and it was so lovely. I found out how refreshing it is to talk to people who want to hear what you have to say, who are not analyzing what you’re wearing or how you look. Though I’ve dried my hair since I’ve been home, I haven’t worn much make up or given thought to my clothes like I used to. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to look like a frumpy slouch, I just prefer souls to connect, not pretty faces.

                So, here I am, so much learned yet back to square one. I feel like I’m back in America with a clean slate and that the road that I’ve been on since the day I was born has taken a much needed sharp turn to the left. I’ll find a new job and a place to live. Most importantly though, I’m approaching life with a more well-rounded perspective than I had before going to India. I will see to it that my life is filled with more creativity, I will practice more compassion, I will relish in the simplicities of my life, and I will continue to open my mind through knowledge and truth about the world around me.

Musoorrie

                Musoorrie has proven to be a decompressing ending to my India adventure extravaganza. It also has turned out to be a good place for me to “hole up” in a hotel room because I got sick again. In fact, Shane and I have been at the hotel so much and ordered so much room service that he is now friends with the employees of the hotel on facebook…

                Musoorie is snuggled in the Himalayan foothills with some of the most beautiful views I’ve ever seen. Like Dharamsala the entire town is emerald green and full of lush trees and foliage. At night, lights dot mountains as if stars have come down from the sky for a break. Musoorrie’s purpose is to serve as a tourist destination for Indians so it’s very clean and picturesque in an unnatural way that tourist towns often are. Benches are placed in strategic locations, buildings are painted more decoratively than is common for the area, candy is sold on the streets, and people are lighter hearted. I only saw three other white people the whole three days we have been here so needless to say, Kristen, the girl with yellow hair, sticks out like a sore thumb. Musoorie is the cleanest town I’ve seen in India and has the least amount of poverty that I’ve seen as well. However, since it is a sheer destination for tourism I also find it to be the only somewhat boring town in India. Musoorrie is beautiful and has perfect since I was sick. I did a lot of reading and writing. Shane and I played a lot of card games and shared some incredible India conversation. Had I been well, I would have craved more raw culture and excitement.

                My favorite part of my Musoorrie stop has been the two hours that I spent watching a monkey outside of my window. I am so going to miss the absence of wild monkeys at home! This particular monkey, we’ll call him Mark, was grayer and a little bigger than the Dharamsala monkeys. Mark kept running to a perch on the roof right outside of our window with an unopened snack that he’d put in his mouth while he climbed. I think he had found a way to get into the hotel and steal the snacks that they put in the mini bars because I recognized all of his neatly sealed delicacies. It is still enthralling for me to watch the little creatures, covered in fur with their curled tails, do things that are so human like. They strategize how to open things and perform tasks that no other animals are capable of- except human animals of course. Dhondulp once told me that he saw at least 100 monkeys get in to organized groups and fight each other like humans would in gangs or battles. Our cook in Dharamsala told us that once a motorcycle ran over a monkey and killed it. It was only a few hours before an enormous group of monkeys hid and attacked the next motorcycle that went by. Apparently they killed the driver. Yes, Dharamsala is full of myths. But, she was so serious as she told this story!

                It has been a very interesting experience to be such a minority in Musoorrie. Living in the U.S. where white people with blue eyes and “yellow hair” are abundant has never given be the opportunity to contemplate what being a minority would feel like. Though I have not felt even sort of unsafe, I suddenly find myself very self-aware. I have never felt so many eye balls wander to my direction like little brown magnets before. I have begun to think about what it is like for foreigners in some parts of the U.S., especially those who don’t speak English. It’s got to be a lonely and isolated experience. At least for me, in India, everything is written in both Hindi and English and almost everyone speaks at least mild conversational English so I have the ability to still communicate.

                Something I find even more interesting than this feeling of being a minority is how much emphasis Indian women place on “fair” skin. There are so many commercials for so many different brands of products which are supposed to make your skin “fairer.” From face wash to make up, the Indian women here are striving to look less brown. Ironically, at home, the American women are striving to look browner. Tanning salons are everywhere and bronzer is a common item in the American women’s cosmetic tool box. This leads to a very obvious question: why are we so discontent with who we are? Is it a wiring thing? Maybe it’s human nature to just want to be different from one’s self- a defense mechanism, an attempt to escape who we are by using our façade/our outside appearance to do so. After all, this seems easier than changing the inside. So I’m sitting here wondering if we are wired to simply want to change what we look like, to simply want to strive to look like something else. Or if we are wired to want to escape ourselves and maybe the easiest way to do it is to change our appearance because changing our inside, our true self is terrifying. I would love someone to weigh in on this one……

Rishikesh

                Rishikesh, “the yoga capital of the world” is a humble yet very lively town. Situated right on the banks of the mystic Ganges, Rishikesh is known for its spirituality, yoga, and adventure sports. Our hotel is right on the bank of the Ganges and the first thing I did upon arrival was walk down to the muddy but beautiful water and I just listened to what she had to say. There is definitely something attention sucking about that river. I felt like I could have sat by her all day.
              Before heading in to the hustle and bustle of Rishikesh, Shane and I enjoyed banana lassi’s in the hotel restaurant and if I’ve not mentioned this before, I have an intense banana lassi addiction and am going to tackle how to recreate them when I get home. In one of my many attempts to always keep India with me, lassi’s will become part of my everyday…

                To get in to the heart of Rishikesh, we hired an auto rickshaw and soaked up some more of India. There were more villages made of trash, more propped up cloths and plastic rubble on the sidewalks to serve as homes for families by night and shops by day. I’ll never get used to seeing people live like that, no one should get used that as we would call that indifference, wouldn’t we? There are two sections of Rishikesh divided by a foot bridge that crosses the Ganges. Both are full of people, shops, cafes, restaurants, ashrams, and guest houses. The shops are a little funkier and I did some more shopping. I’m going to come home with so much stuff from India that I’ll not need to buy clothes and accessories for a very long time. Though being vegetarian in India is so easy, it is even easier in Rishikesh because the entire town is purely vegetarian.

                Thanks to Lonely Planet, we immediately discovered a restaurant called Little Buddha. It has a tree house vibe to it and sits up and over the Ganges. The food was amazing and they offered a lot of alternatives to Indian cuisine. The server told us that they don’t have beer because you are not allowed to have beer on the bank of the Ganges. No meat, no beer, this place really strives for harmonious living! The ambiance of Little Buddha was really zen. People were sitting with their feet propped up on chairs reading and writing and watching the river in between lines of words. Others were smoking and talking in big groups. Others, like myself, just were "there" and absorbed the vibe and the river. It was late so we went back to the hotel and watched Thank you for Not Smoking. It was my first TV experience in five weeks. It felt kind of good to veg and let my mind shut down. I’ve noticed that being in India has got me spending a ton of time in my head, running with only thoughts, playing with my new knowledge, spinning with my new realizations. All good things, all mentally exhausting simultaneously…..

                The next day we found ourselves conversing more with the river, going in to the fun shops, checking out some ashrams, stopping at Café Coffee Day (the Starbucks of India )to escape the oppressive heat, and then back to Little Buddha for hours of relaxation and loafing. I really dug the chance to have some serious downtime. Crossing the bridge back and forth to get to The Little Buddha section of town is an interesting experience. Monkeys line the edges and I keep my head down as to not accidentally look them in the eye- I’m still a little traumatized by the Dharamsala monkeys and I can’t get Dhondulp’s voice out of my head telling me that monkeys target people with yellow hair. The bridge is packed and signs say “pedestrian only” but that doesn’t stop the motorcycles that constantly cross it. When a motorcycle comes, you have to get up against the railing whether there is a monkey there or not.

                Though I’ve not been in Dharamsala for six days now, Dhondulp and I still talk daily via text messaging. He keeps me informed about the weather there, the movies he’s watching, and his homework. Every day he says “I miss you dear Kristen, how are you?” And every day I respond with an “I miss you so much and I miss my home in Dharamsala.” Though I never realized the extent of the suffering in India I also never realized how loving and kind another human could be until I met my dear Dhondulp…

Because I live my life following sparkle dust, Shane and I have decided to change up our plans a bit and head to Musoorrie for the weekend. Though I haven’t been there, something about it is really sparkly. Musoorrie is a small town higher up in the mountains about two hours away. Apparently there is some phenomenal hiking so we will see what the sparkle dust has to show me next…

               

Jaipur

                Missing Dharamsala but seeing some more of India is exciting. I felt an unexpected small shock to my system leaving Dharamsala. It really doesn’t feel like the rest of the India, it truly is a mini Tibet. The people move at a more zen like pace, it’s smaller, there are monks everywhere, Dharamsala dwellers reek of love and compassion, and there were cafes everywhere in which foreigners and locals just loafed and discussed.  Maybe it just quickly became my home and I’m homesick?

                “Delhi belly” knocked me down and after a day of recovering in Delhi, primarily in the hotel with one minor sightseeing excursion, I was ready to go to Jaipur. Lonely planet said that “to go to India and not see Jaipur is like never having been born.” Well, that’s an intense quote so I decided that Shane and I needed to go to Jaipur. We hired a car and made the 6 and a half journey south. The traffic here is comparable to if you took LA traffic and intensified it by ten. It was good for Shane to be in India and see some of the slum towns that litter the streets and have children beg him for money. It’s not that I wish darkness on Shane, it’s that I want everyone I love to be awaken, like I have on this trip, from their cozy American bubbles. Yes, we all knew India was third world and expect to see some suffering along with the rich culture and spirituality India offers us. It’s one thing to hear about it, it’s another to be in the middle of it…..

I found Jaipur to be a historically and culturally rich city. We hired an autorickshaw for the day and did a lot of sightseeing, my favorite was Jantar Mantar. It’s an observatory that was built in the 1700’s by some Indian dude OBSESSED with astronomy. It is full of funky astrological sculptures and giant sun dials. Amber Fort was cool as well, it is Jaipur’s “token sight” and the lure of it for me was that you can ride an elephant to the top. The vegetarian Kristen who is in to animal rights had qualms about supporting  a business that makes elephants walk up and down a fort all day but the Kristen who has been wanting to ride an elephant since she was four won that battle. Speaking of elephants, the drivers sit on the elephants head to steer them. One may ask how does the driver get all the way up on to the elephants head? Well, they stand on the elephant’s trunk and the elephant lifts the driver up and on to its head! For those of you, who have never looked an elephant in to the eyes, I’d try to find a way to do this. I’ve never felt such a mystical feeling as I did when I looked at an elephant’s eyes…

Compared to Delhi, Jaipur is mild. There are a lot less people and a lot less people living in hellish poverty. There are still people there who live in a way that no one should have to live, however. The weather in Jaipur is hot and humid but again, nothing compared to Delhi. It was also soooo much greener than I expected and the lush foliage seemed to balance out the noise of the city. Shane and I were laughing at a few things that we heard escaping our mouths that you can only say in India and that you never would have imagined yourself ever saying at home. Here are my favorites:

-          “We’re passing an elephant on the left.”

-          “There is a traffic jam because there is a cow in the street.”

-          “Is this a one lane street? Wait no, those people are just driving in to oncoming traffic.”

-          The word “rupees” is just still funny….

                I had some good food in Jaipur. For lunch we went to a place that came recommended by Lonely Planet called LMB that had a warning about the karmic and health effects of eating meat on the front of the menu. Though I’m one for letting everyone do their thing when it comes to morals and views, I do like to see a place that is so passionate about animal life preservation. Not only was it vegetarian, but the food was really good we had chana masala and some sort of vegetable kababs. For dinner, Shane and I decided to try a revolving restaurant near our hotel. Good thing our food came out fast because I was starting to feel really nauseated and I know I wouldn’t have been able to stay much longer. Though I didn’t like the revolving of the restaurant, again, we enjoyed some really good Indian food. With that said, I’m getting really sick of Indian food…. There was a “pub” in the same building as the revolving restaurant. We had fantasies of finding “decent beer.” Like everyone else I’ve seen, they only had Kingfisher and Fosters. Fosters isn’t normally too bad but the kind they brew here has a funky aftertaste. So after a funky beer, we called it a night.

                Rishikesh is all I have on the agenda for the final five days of my adventure. Because the car was such a long endeavor, we decided to fly. It was an hour and a half flight from Jaipur and though India has a bad rep for unreliable flights (just that they get cancelled often for no apparent reason), traveling went really smooth today. Now, I find myself on the bank of the Ganges River in a spiritual, nature, and yoga filled town waiting to see what India has to show me the next five days….

               

My last day with Dhondulp

                I will always think of my last day in Dharamsala as my happiest and my saddest. I spent the entire day with Dhondulp and left a few pieces of my heart with him as tears fell on to Dharamsala’s dusty and loving streets.

                I woke up from a text from Dhondulp and this is exactly what it said: “can we meet tomorow morning and evening 2 times? And then we both lunch together also. Is it ok?” I responded with a “my whole Friday belongs to you.” Instead of meeting two different times with a lunch in between I ended up spending the entire day, over 8 hours, with my dear friend Dhondulp. As soon as I finished my porridge, I left my house for the monastery.

 On my way, an old Tibetan man came up to me and started talking to me on the street while the rain tapped gently on my umbrella. He asked me how I was, how my morning was. I responded and asked him the same questions. Then he pulled out a little yellow bag from his pocket and said “I have a gift for you.” I asked him why and he just handed me the bag and said “put in your pocket.” I asked him if he was sure and he said “yes, yes, ver y sure.” He then pulled out some pills from his pocket and told me that he was sick and had just gone to the doctor. I told him that I hoped he felt better and he said “thank you, bye.” Alone in the rain, I examined the contents of my yellow bagged gift. Inside there are three rings and a red beaded bracelet. Two of the rings appear to be made out of bone, the other of tigers eye. When I told Dhondulp the story and showed him the gifts I asked him if it was some sort of Tibetan tradition to give gifts to strangers or if I was supposed to now give a gift to a complete stranger. Dhondulp said that it wasn’t any sort of tradition that he was aware of. He then said that when you get a gift, you write it in your diary with the exact date and write down the person’s name or in my case exactly what the “gifter” looks like. Then I can always go back and read about it and smile. August 10 seemed to be a day full of gifts so here it is: on August 10, 2012 a Tibetan man only a few inches taller than me with a very kind face who appeared to be in his late 60’s wearing a dark blue jacket came up to me on the street and gave me a gift. An hour later Dhondulp gave me a gift too, a book called “Beyond Religon” written by the Dalai Lama but signed by Dhondulp with a message written in his scrawl in Tibetan. A few hours after that, Dhondulp’s mother gave me a gorgeous scarf and bracelet. Just like Dhondulp said, I know that I’ll always read back on this blog entry and smile.

Dhondulp and I spent the beginning of our last day together in his room. It wouldn’t be us if there wasn’t a lot of laughing. However, we also had a fun conversation about reincarnation. I told Dhondulp that in my next life I plan to come back as a butterfly and live on flowers for approximately six weeks before I try this whole human experience thing again. Dhondulp was appalled at this and made me promise him I wouldn’t do it if I actually become presented with the choice after this life. He said that as a butterfly I wouldn’t see and appreciate the beauty of flowers that humans are capable of, he said that all I’d be able to think about would be survival and finding food. Dhondulp told me that I need to come back as human again next time so I can keep spreading love and compassion. He also told me that he would choose to come back as a westerner and I finally agreed to come back as a westerner again instead of a butterfly so that Dhondulp and I can hang out in our next lives together.

After our usual daily discussion, Dhondulp took me to a museum where I learned more about the Tibetan struggle. The museum was full of photos of Tibet before China barged in and it looked peaceful and beautiful, just like all of the Tibetans that I’ve met. There were so many heart wrenching stories of people who had been tortured by the Chinese because they refuse to denounce the Dalai Lama. To sum up everything that I’ve seen and learned by being in Dharamsala aka mini Tibet is that the Tibetan struggle is nothing short of a tragedy. There is no way they are ever getting their country back. China has modernized it and killed and displaced so many Tibetans that there are now more Chinese people in Tibet than Chinese people.  An entire culture, an entire way of life, an entire chunk of beautiful and peaceful land can only exist in memory and the will of the Tibetan people to keep in alive in other parts of the world. I put myself in their place and imagine what it would feel like to be so displaced. Once they escape, they can’t go back to Tibet. Though India takes them in as refugees, Tibetans still have no rights here. They can’t vote, they can’t own property, it’s difficult for them to get jobs, they can’t go home because it’s gone….

After the museum, Dhondulp and I stopped for coffee and gathered two of his friends before heading to his parents’ house. I will never forget how welcoming and loving his parents were. What truly amazing people, now I see where Dhondulp gets his lovingness. Immediately Dhondulp’s mother, especially, treated me as if I were family. Their appreciation of me teaching their son English every day for the past three weeks was overwhelming, they never ceased to gush praise in my direction. Dhondulp’s mother seems to be about 65 and Dhondulp told me prior to my meeting her that she loves western girls and requested that I talk to her a lot. As if I had a choice! The second the introductions were made, she grabbed my umbrella along with the other five that she was carrying, and took my hand in her other hand and we headed up a mountain to go have lunch at a pizza restaurant. The rest of the group trailed behind us because Dhondulp’s father at 80 years old and with his cane, had to take his time up the mountain. I have no idea where this pizza place was or if I could ever find it again, all I know is that  the walk took us an hour. The family kept telling me it was their favorite restaurant ever and that I was going to be amazed by the pizza. I thought to myself “it’ll be decent, but after all, I’m in India,” so I’ll say my expectations weren’t very high. HOLY SHIT, were my expectations shattered! This pizza was legitimately some of the best I have had in my life and worth every second of the hike there. Since Dhondulp’s family decided that I needed my own pizza, I felt obligated to eat five pieces. As I ate my pizza next to Dhondulp and across the table from his parents, my heart was melted by the lovingness that emitted from his mother. She tore her husband’s pizza in to tiny pieces and blew on them before putting them on his plate. Dhondulp’s father would then proceed to dip his pizza pieces in his chai tea so that they were chewable in his toothless mouth. I loved every minute of it.

When lunch was over, we all went outside for pictures. I was surprised at how eager his family was to get their pictures taken with me. Dhondulp’s mother then hugged me and presented me with the most beautiful scarf I have ever seen and a bracelet.  She grabbed my hands, looked me in the eye and thanked me from the bottom of her heart for teaching her son. I tried to explain that I got as much out of the relationship as Dhondulp did but she wouldn’t hear of it. She told me that her family is so lucky that I am going to continue to be Dhondulp’s teacher over email and skype. I told her that I am so very lucky to have found my best friend in the world in India. She just smiled, took my hand, and suggested that the whole group take the long way home over a beautiful mountain trail. We stopped at the top and Dhondulp’s mother said to me that she picked that path because it has the cleanest air she has ever breathed and wanted to show it to me. The spot, the view, the air, the energy, and especially the company were all quite breath taking. Once we got back to Dhondulp’s parents house it was 5:30 and they invited me in for tea but I had a package to pick up and I had promised the girls a night out of dinner, drinks, and hookah and knew I had to head home. So, I said goodbye to his parents and his friends. Then I looked at Dhondulp and started to cry. I had hoped to be able to hold in my emotion until after the goodbyes but I couldn’t get any words out so I just hugged him and walked down the hill. He yelled after me that he would call that night, which he did.

Picking up my package was a nice way to ease the heaviness that I felt after saying goodbye to my best friend. Waiting for me, was a 20 pound package full of supplies for the childcare center I volunteered in. The markers, puzzles, papers, books, stickers, games, etc brought so much light to my day. Though it was Friday night and I left early Saturday morning and thus couldn’t donate the supplies in person, I know that the girls will take them and the kids will be overjoyed. I couldn’t find anywhere to buy any of those things, not even crayons in Dharamsala. I don’t even know how to put in to words how much those supplies will be treasured.

I had a lovely last night in Dharamsala. The girls and I went out for dinner and beer at one of our favorite spots. We had good conversation, and of course played cards. Then we went out to a hookah bar since we hadn’t done that yet and they didn’t want me to leave without having had smoked hookah in India. The bar was actually really cool. It was a rooftop bar and it wasn’t raining so we got to enjoy Dharamsala from an aerial view. I’m not really sure what hookah is, I think it’s just flavored tobacco that you take turns smoking. We picked strawberry, it was yummy. Toward the end of the night, my stomach started to feel as if there were a little man inside with a knife just stabbing my gut. So, we went home where I laid in bed all night in the fetal position. Right before dawn settled in, I began puking my guts out. It marked the one day marker of my time in India and I finally got the famous “Delhi belly.” Instead of going in to the gory details, I will just say being really sick on the day that you have to do a lot of traveling is nothing short of hell. The cab driver who drove me from my house to the airport in Dharamsala had to pull over three times in thirty minutes so I could throw up all over the road. I look at it as leaving a little bit of me in Dharamsala…. On the plane ride to Delhi I clutched my stomach but the expelling of my insides started to cease. By the time I got to my hotel in Delhi all I could do was curl up and nap.

After some crackers, my first hot shower in a month and a nap in a real bed with clean sheets, I was feeling on the mend just in time to go with the airport shuttle to pick up Shane from the airport. My heart aches for Dharamsala but I am so excited to go on my last leg of my journey with Shane. We intended to leave for Jaipur today but since I’m still sick we decided to hang out in Delhi an extra day (never thought I’d choose to stay in Delhi again).  I showed Shane the lotus temple and it was really cool to revisit that site a month later and meditate in the white marble petals and give thanks for all of my experience, insight, and love I’ve gained. It was surreal to reflect on where I had been last time I was there and where I am now, only a short month later. Last time I sat in that cool and silent temple I was a totally different person. I hadn’t been to Dharamsala, I hadn’t found the aspects of India that feel like “home,” and most of all- that girl who sat encompassed in those massive marble slab petals a month ago and meditated and put a wish out in to the universe for a magical India experience, hadn’t yet met Dhondulp….

Simple

                I’m sitting in my Dharamsala bed listening to the neighbors Tibetan flute music waft into my window as it does every night. Tonight, however, the sweet notes that are falling from the flute are pulling at my heartstrings a little. I have three more nights and two more days here and I know that some very tough goodbyes linger in my near future. When I was leaving today, Dhondulp told me that he already feels sad and the old familiar lump that has been dormant for a month rose up to its comfy place in the back of my throat. But, not going to think of that now, I have two more whole days with him. We are planning friend time in addition to our “class time” so I will be spending the majority of the next two days with him.

                I’ve discovered the word that describes all of my favorite aspects of India. Simple. The houses in Dharamsala all seem to have the basics, the necessities. No more and no less. The shops are tiny, they fit about three people in their walls and have a small amount of a few things. My yoga studio is a concrete room with peeling blue paint on the walls and blankets on the floor. My bedroom has three little beds each with suitcases under them and I feel that I could live extravagantly with only the things in my suitcase for the rest of my life. The cafes are basic offering enough to meet everyone’s needs but not too much as to overwhelm the customer with decisions. No establishments offer “take out” as this place is very much a café culture as well as mindful about reusing everything as to cut back on the amount of litter in the streets. So, coffee and mealtime is simple because you have no choice but to sit at a table and enjoy your food or drink in the shop which forces you to slow down and reflect on your day thus far.

                When I say that Dhondulp is also very simple I need to say that it’s in a good way, in an intelligent way. He’s so present and simple that he cannot grasp that things he sees on the internet or hears from his friends could possibly be untrue. For example, his friend showed him a picture of what I’m assuming is a guy joking around dressed as a monk drinking a beer. He said “Kristen, monks aren’t supposed to drink beer and this one was!” I tried to explain that it was a joke and he said “no I saw the photo.” I legitimately couldn’t get him to believe that someone would dress up as a monk as a joke. A few days ago he told me that he and I are going to get really fat from laughing too much. I said “what!?” He said, “my Mom said that if you laugh too much you get fat.” He also added that his best friend laughs more than anyone he knows and he’s really fat. I told him to tell me via skype if I’m getting fat and I’ll try to stop laughing. This caused us to laugh for a few minutes so I think we are just going to have to accept our future fatness because all we do is laugh when we are together.

                Dhondulp also reiterated stories that his friends have told him and he told me that they have to be true because his friend said it was true. Simple as that. However, I don’t want to risk making this man, who has a PHD in Buddhism science which means he is a master of physics, sound uneducated. So I want to leave it at this: I envy the fact that life’s suffering, sadness, deceit, and cruelty hasn’t been able to reach in to the monastery and get its blistered and worn out fingers on my dear friend Dhondulp. His naivety and simple way of looking at things is magical and a skill that I envy but don’t think I will ever be fortunate enough to possess.

                Today Dhondulp and I were talking about American things as he wants to come to America again and promises to stay with me. On the first day we met I told him my favorite food is pumpkin pie and he remembered it and asked if I would make him pumpkin pie. I find monks to be the most attentive, well mannered and chivalrous people I’ve met. Too bad they had to take vows of celibacy because they would make good boyfriends. Dhondulp doesn’t let me leave his room empty handed. I always come home with snacks and books to share with the girls. He gets offended if I try to pay when we go out for coffee, lunch, or dessert. He tells the waiter “madam wants…….” And proceeds to order for me and will even pick what I eat if I’m overwhelmed by the fact that I don’t’ recognize any of the foreign dishes on menus. He also always tells them “she is vegetarian, please don’t let any meat touch her food!” Though attentive, the girls and I are in unanimous agreement that for some reason, monks come across as “asexual.”

                Back to Dhondulp, me, and American food. Today I was trying to explain buffalo wings to him. Quote of the day is “Kristen, I don’t think I want this.” I guess it is burgers and pumpkin pie for Dhondulp when he comes to visit… Shortly after our food discussion, our words quickly flowed in to a more serious tone. I told him that I’m a little worried to go home because I don’t know how the contrast will feel and I have no plan of what to do with my life. I told him maybe I would stay in Dharamsala and shave my head and become a nun. He said this was not necessary, that I already think like a monk or a nun. He said that I am present in my moments and I do enjoy my life from the small things to the big. He said that even though I don’t have a shaved head, I’m like him and we will always be the same and we will always live a simple life that we enjoy. Then he gave me more books on Buddhist philosophy so I can keep learning at home and then ask him questions via email and skype because he will be asking me questions about his English.

                Teaching English is such an interesting experience.  I have to constantly pause and contemplate things about my language that I just know, I just learned without explanation. Today I was helping Dhondulp with past tense. A lot of times he just doesn’t use it or if he does he puts ed on the end of irregular verbs. I’m really starting to hate irregular verbs by the way. They aren’t fair. They are rule breakers. They are so confusing for people who are trying to learn our language. How do you explain to a monk that “eated” is not correct but “started” is. Or that “goed” isn’t a word when “played” is correct. So for tonight’s homework, Dhondulp is probably in his little dorm right now making sentences out of all his new irregular verbs in past tense. Bought not buyed, went not goed, drove not drived…… There are about thirty that I put on that list by the way….

                After another lovely day of café hopping, Dhondulp discussions, and Dharamsala basking, I went to my yoga class. I got there late so I had to be up front by the teacher which is nerve racking but oh well, I was just so happy to be there. The teacher has got to be in his 60’s and he looks like Ghandi. The man moves like I’ve never seen yoga teachers move in America. He must be a master of the masters and I feel so lucky to be going to his classes. At the end of every class he chants for 15 minutes and I know I’ve said this before but my soul really does leave my body. It goes somewhere so magical that it can’t tell me what it saw, what it was doing why Ghandi teacher talked to it with his chanting. All I know is I open my eyes and I think “huh, I have no idea where I just came from.” Then I walk in to the streets in a stoned daze and have to be woken by the sound of beeping car horns.

               

Big lucky

Another day in which I felt like Dharamsala was smiling on me. Ellen and I got up early and hiked to the medition temple and enjoyed another lovely guided meditation. I love starting my mornings with exercise and “innercise.” It didn’t rain that much today and once again, I saw some sunshine! Everyone is a little bewildered because during monsoon season, it’s supposed to rain all day every day. I know that this nice weather is thanks to Dhondulp.

My favorite part of today was when I showed Dhondulp the footage of the lion man’s show and he watched it incredulously and said “what the hell is this?” We laughed for a long time and took turns speculating what exactly is wrong with the lion man or if he’s just a genius taking money from western tourists. Our conversations then ranged from the holocaust (he’d just watched a WWII movie) to his upcoming physics conference. I told him that we only had five more classes left but that my days were his and that we can hang out and practice English as much as he wants. He said he that “it is his big lucky” to have me as his teacher. Dhondulp also said that before I go we have to have a picnic and I have to meet his parents because he has told them a lot about me and they ask a lot of questions about his “funny teacher.” When I told the girls about this they joked and said it sounds like Dhondulp and I are getting serious.

Today Dhondlup told me that his best friend praised his English and he told him it’s because he has a very good teacher. This made my soul smile. He also told me that he wants me to skype to classes of 30 people at his home monastery in South India. I hope that he’s not serious about this because I can’t say no to him but the thought of my face on a giant screen in a classroom full of monks makes my palms sweat a little.

After my cherished time with my monk, I went to yoga. The yoga here is my favorite I’ve experienced. The teacher is known all over the world and every time he chants at the end of class, I swear my soul leaves my body. Unlike home, the standard yoga classes here last two hours. It’s only 100 rupees (about $2)! The teacher focuses on more warm up, stretching, and relaxing between difficult poses than I am used to. I love it. I want to find a  studio more like this one in Colorado but I don’t think there are any.

After yoga we were pretty tired so we went home and ate our rice and veggies and called it an early night. Only five more days in Dharamsala and I can feel this place tugging on my heart a little bit, asking politely, not begging for me to stay. I’m about to say goodbye to some of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. But that is life and the alternative would just be to not have met these people and it’s “my big lucky” that I’ve met them.