Where Our Feet Took Us In Kathmandu...

Walking around the Boudha Stupa--the largest temple of its kind in the world--at night, our footsteps echoing against the shuttered buildings that circle the colorfully lit holy place. A young man walking in front of us spun the prayer wheels tucked into the walls of the stupa, and each wheel spun its own sound into the quiet air. We took our time, keeping the temple on our right as Buddhists do with many holy objects and places, pausing to spin the wheels ourselves--they're filled with papers inscribed with holy mantras, and there's something very satisfying about putting blessed words into motion. Josh quoted the composer John Cage who said: "Every sound is a perfect expression of the circumstances of its creation." Felt very true surrounded by the sounds of prayers spinning and our own breathing.

To the east side of town, up hundreds of stairs, to another stupa nicknamed the Monkey Temple. Sadhus (Hindus who have renounced worldly possessions to follow their gods) rushed us with blessings they wanted us to pay for. The prayerful and the curious rung bells that reverberated against our skin. Children snacked on thin slices of coconut, young monks gazed and giggled from the monastary's roof top, candles flickered, priests poured holy water into the hands of the clamoring faithful, monkeys roamed across the hill top--at turns disdainful and playfully eager. Vendors sold chalk and visitors scrawled their names, the names of gods, scientific equations, proclamations of love all over the buddhas and walls and small temples set about the stupa. A wildly festive confluence of the religious and the secular and the energy of the human appetite for both elements--balloons, roasted chick peas, prayer beads, cameras clicking, voices chanting, crumpled plastic bags, trees strung with prayer flags, the day's haze softening the whole scene.

Several hours up and up and up into the hills around Kathmandu, following a trail through pine trees and past small huts and monastaries, to a Buddhist nunnery at about 8,000 feet. We serrendipitiously arrived during a nine day celebration of over 600 pujas (religious rites)--part of their preparation for the new year. Sitting cross-legged with nuns and monks and other devotees who made the trek, we drank blessed Nescafe, ate blessed Tibetan bread and apples and biscuits. Nuns circled through the crowd pouring blessed whiskey and wine into our hands which we sipped and then rubbed into our heads for wisdom (our friend Mike helped us follow along with all of this). The chanting never stopped, hands moved continously over prayer beads, horns and trumpets occasionally shook the building with their deep notes. We ended up trekking back down to the valley at sunset and then in the light of a glowing half moon, picking our way carefully along the ridge until we reached the road that took us back to town and a feast with friends.

With peace and love,
J&J

It's a Bird! It's a Plane! No, It's...

Josh's research visa!!! Yesterday, at 5:00 p.m. Kathmandu time, a beauracrat at the Indian Embassy pasted a tiny little piece of paper (that we have been waiting for since August) into Josh's passport that is the key to actually BEING a Fulbright scholar. Hope has been restored, if not actual faith in the Fulbright grant--by this point it's become clear to us that if we hadn't come in November and sorted out the needed information on our own, we would still be waiting in the states for a grant that would probably never have come (isn't that a song?). But, so it goes...and so we go, back to Kolkata on the 26th after 10 days exploring the nooks and crannies of Kathmandu, wrapped up in our winter jackets pretty much the whole time since it's about 40 degrees outside AND inside. Makes finding a warm spot in the sun or getting toasty under the down sleeping bag all the more exciting.

Also has been an adjustment for my newly bald head, which will soon be celebrating its one week anniversary. I'm still getting used to the sensory overload everytime I step outside and feel cold air on my scalp, but it helps me blend in with all the monks in our neighborhood (doesn't totally counteract the tall white lady thing though). Ever since my aunt Dee rolled up in all her bald glory to our house in Rutland many moons ago after biking cross-country with my uncle Elvis, I've wanted to shed my wild locks for something a bit more elemental. I also couldn't quite get myself to shower here in Kathmandu, what with the cold and all, so I decided it was easier to take hair out of the bathing equation. Josh and I both went under the clippers in a little barber shop off a Kathmandu alley (fotos of the transformation are on their way) and got head and shoulder massages with the deal, all for about US$3.50. I've noticed that my husband gives me way more spontaneous head rubs then ever before--not a bad reason to keep this look for a while.

As always, more stories to follow, but my eyes are beginning to tweak out from the computer screen so I think we'll go wander around the Buddhist stupa down the street--the largest one in the world--get some air, eat some yak cheese, watch the Tibetans perform their prosterations and circle the stupa with their prayer beads, and maybe offer up a prayer or two ourselves.

With love and peace,
J&J

A Few Pics Via Dial-Up Connection in Kathmandu, So It Takes a REALLY Long Time

Where Are We Now?

A couple of hints: we just came from sitting around an open fire in a courtyard garden. We're wearing our winter hats. I have on Smartwool socks. We can see our breath when we're talking. Oh yeah, and we met the Himalayas for the first time while flying at 29,000 feet.

If you guessed Kathmandu, Nepal you win:-) Hoping to get fotos up tomorrow or the day after so we can share the magic (digitally at least).

As always, many stories and ponderings to share--my two days at a hill station in Matheran, Josh's new sitar (and the possibility of a THIRD sitar joining our family--as long as I get to be the first wife, that's all that matters), music madness in Ahmedabad, the omnipresence of Bryan Adams, 12 piece brass bands crammed into one rickshaw in full marching regalia, wonderful and strange and sometimes wonderfully strange encounters with all sorts of people--but for now we wanted to give you a written glimpse of our first glimpse of perhaps the most amazing mountain range in the world, straight from my journal, hot off the pages...

the smog cuts sharply against the horizon as we climb to 29,000 feet on our way to Kathmandu, Nepal. we left Delhi behind miles ago, but the most polluted city in the world still takes a toll out here and up here. in the distance, we stare at what we think are clouds until they come more distinctly into focus and become sky-piercing mountains beyond the thinly snaking rivers and determinedly straight irrigation ditches and crystallizing townships that burst over farmland. Josh explains to me how rivers curve a they grow old, or grow old as they curve. maybe both. the seat in front of us proclaims "Sim+Billy in love," flight attendants offer weak but free beer. The mountains keep holding their line. Until, suddenly, that line steps forward and surges upward. We can't see anything below us--only clouds--and the mountains crest alongside us. They roll towards us and away from us--shadowed and snowy peaks stretching out and out and out. the plane begins to turn its nose towards them, and it seems like everyone on the plane leans forward, urging us onward. amazing to think that for years and years people looked up at these mountains, and now we're in the clouds with them. of course, we have to land. 40 tons of metal can only stay up on wings for so long. we begin to descend into the foothills and dense clouds that flare over the crumpled earth and beneath our frail selves.

as always, peace and love,

J&J

Indian Trains Trips Deserve Their Own Posting

Does 35 hours of consecutive travel on Indian trains count as an epic journey?

We've now done a 13 hour trip from Pune to Ahmedebad, a 25 hour journey from Dehli to Kolkata, and, of course, the potential epic--leaving Kolkata at 7:30 p.m. on January 6th and arriving in Pune at 10:30 a.m. on January 8th. (Is that 35 hours? I can't really do the math--suffice it to say, it was a bitchingly long time). That is by no means the longest train trip available for your traveling pleasure here in India--you could go from North to South, which would be without a doubt the most hardcore--but we did go East to West, which isn't too shabby either in our humble opinion.

A quick rundown of how we entertained ourselves for close to two days of train living: Josh spilled dhal out of the flimsiest aluminum container ever onto his pants and one of the porters gave us A (as in ONE) not-that-absorbent napkin to clean it up. The first night, as we headed towards the central plains of India, we huddled inside our shawls (we traveled sleeper--no complimentary blankets) as the temperature dropped rapidly to the coldest we've experienced in two months. In the evenings, we listened to the symphony of snores, burps, farts, dreamy mumblings, clattering wheels, piercing whistles, the rush of passing trains. During the daytime, Josh read Life of Pi and we talked about stories with a capital "S" vs. stories with a lowercase "s." I found myself sort of adopted into a family of 16 traveling to Mumbai for a big puja (a Hindu prayer ceremony)--they ranged in age from 75 to 1 1/2--who taught me phrases in Hindi, demanded that I sing them Christmas carols, bought me chai when I went to visit them in their berths, ordered me and Josh to come to their home for dinner once we go back to Kolkata, and had their youngest member sing me "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." Rahul, twelve years old, posed for fotos with his blinged-out L.A. Lakers belt buckle (once I get my fotos off my memory card, I'll get them up here for you all to see) and sat with me for a couple of hours as we listened to Iron&Wine and Ben Harper on my IPod. A constant stream of vendors flowed through the car selling cheap plastic toys, chai, coffee, samosas, chana, padlocks, notebooks. Young children in dirty circus costumes did somersaults down the aisle to the drumbeats of uncles or mothers and then passed their hats. Transvestites came and clapped over our heads, demanding rupees and making obscene gestures at those who refused. Josh finished Life of Pi. We peed in toilets with open holes onto the tracks (sorry, you just can't avoid toilet references in India). A fellow traveler wished us luck as followers of Saraswati, the goddess of learning and the arts. An off-duty railway cop shared an orange with us. The last couple of hours from Mubai to Pune were filled with dense forests and sharply rising cliffs that gave way to rich farmland, and we spent most of our time at the open doors between the cars, watching the sun rise and burn off the early morning haze.


Epic or no? You decide:-)


Peace and Love,
J&J

P.S. Two quotes from William Sloane Coffin that we found relevant in light of the poverty here (and everywhere, really): "To show compassion for an individual without showing concern for the structures of society that make him an object of compassion is to be sentimental, rather than loving." and then "To love effectively, we must act collectively."