Logging Off

Hey Y'all,

Just wanted to give you a heads-up that I'll be offline for the next 10 days.

Tomorrow, I'm due to start a 10-day Vipassana meditation course in Dehradun. Vipassana is basically 10 days of sweet F.A. No drinking, smoking, talking, communicating, touching, reading, writing or blogging for 10 days.

I've had a few people (travellers and locals) recommend the Vipassana course, and I have to say, I'm rather intrigued by the paradox of doing nothing to achieve something. And even though it sounds pretty easy, they tell me it's tough. Really tough. Apparently quite a few starters bail within in the first few days. But I think I'll be ok. 6 months of commuting from Wollongong to North Sydney seems like a pretty solid warm up in the fine art of sitting on my ass and staring blankly.

This will be my daily timetable from tomorrow until the 03 Aug:

4:00 am		Morning wake-up bell
4:30-6:30 am		Meditate in the hall or in your room
6:30-8:00 am		Breakfast break
8:00-9:00 am		Group meditation in the hall
9:00-11:00 am		Meditate in the hall or in your room according to the teacher's instructions
11:00-12:00 noon		Lunch break
12noon-1:00 pm		Rest and interviews with the teacher
1:00-2:30 pm		Meditate in the hall or in your room
2:30-3:30 pm		Group meditation in the hall
3:30-5:00 pm		Meditate in the hall or in your own room according to the teacher's instructions
5:00-6:00 pm		Tea break
6:00-7:00 pm		Group meditation in the hall
7:00-8:15 pm		Teacher's Discourse in the hall
8:15-9:00 pm		Group meditation in the hall
9:00-9:30 pm		Question time in the hall
9:30 pm		Retire to your own room--Lights out

There is just one small problem, I'm not in Dehradun. I'm actually in Chandigarh and I haven't left myself a lot of time to get there. Even though the first stay starts late, if I miss tomorrow's 4:30am bus out of town, I probably won't make it.

So, my dear readers, I promise I shall return to you soon (very soon if I miss the bus), and hopefully as a more enlightened, self-aware PJ.

Vital Stats - 20 July, 2009

Vital Stats - 20 July, 2009

Time: 8:30 pm
Location: Shimla, Himachal Pradesh - map
Health: Excellent
Weather: Misty
Mood: Joyous (I have a TV in my room... with Ashes coverage!)
Bowels: Satisfactory
Beard: Bushy
Next Destination: Chandigarh, Punjab
Interesting Fact: Shimla is the former summer capital of the British Raj and is now home to a Domino's, Subway and a Baskin-Robbins ice cream store. In just 6 hours, I visited them all.


Me and some kids that are not me. Rajasthan, about 2 weeks ago.

Manali Oregano

Whilst wandering the misty hills of Himachal Pradesh, I accidentally stumbled into the small town of Manali. Ok, it wasn't an accident, I actually came here by bus, and quite deliberately.

Manali is a odd town. Well, it's a great town, just with a very odd mix of people. Allow me to explain...

Manali, situated on the rocky banks of the Beas River at the northern end of the Kullu Valley, serves 3 important functions:

1. Honeymoon retreat. It's a super popular honeymoon haven for freshly-hitched Indian lovebirds, or arrangedbirds as the case may likely be.
   
2. Pre-Himalayan hub. With conflict-magnet Kashmir so often off limits, Manali has become the new #1 jump-off point to get to the big hills. Hikers, trekkers, trampers, walkers and wanderers all pass through here on their way to the real mountains, the 5000+ stuff.
   
3. Stoners' paradise. Yes, Manali is home to some of the world's most luscious and plentiful gardens of wild marijuana.

So as you can imagine, it's an odd bunch here in Manali. The super libidinous, the super fit, and the super hungry for some cake, all together, all here for completely different reasons, all having the time of their lives.

I chose to stay in the small outer village of Vashisht where most of the white folk congregate. A place where you're more likely to be woken by a skipping Bob Marley CD than by muffled groans and creaking headboards.

The perpetually green Kullu Valley is ultra fertile, receives a seemingly endless supply of both sunshine and rain, and is hidden high in the foothills of the Himalayas. And I wasn't joking, not even slightly, when I said it was a stoner's paradise. Marijuana is EVERYWHERE! Seriously, if you just fell over at random, you'd be unlucky to not land face down in a pile of it. It's so plentiful that in some places you could dive into it backwards, thrash your arms and legs about and leave a beautiful imprint of a pot angel, if you were so inclined.



It grows all over the place. In every garden, next to every footpath, even in the cracks of the pavement:



On the rickshaw ride up from the main town, an open palm and gentle lean to the left would be rewarded with fist fulls of fresh green leaf. It reminded me of that scene in Gladiator, where preceding every emotional what-his-perfect-life-used-to-be-like flashback was a poetic lead in, in which, Russell Crowe strolls through a field of wheat, running his fingers gently across the stem tops.

I'm not in any way, shape, form or function a stoner, but I still can't help feeling a giddy sense of excitement about being surrounded by the forbidden fruit.

Ok, I really hate to break the light-hearted tone of this blog, but it's time to get a serious. Just for a minute, I promise. Apologies in advance.

I've had a very lengthy internal debate as to whether I would admit to this here on my blog, but I've decided that I will. Earlier, I promised you that this would be an honest blog, and an honestly blog it shall be! I understand what I'm about to say will disappoint some of you, and for that I am sorry. Truly sorry.

And before I go on, I think it's important that you first understand this, I'm a 28-year-old man now, I need to start living by my rules, my choices, and to not be influenced by the values and expectations of others. To borrow (steal) a few wise words from the 21st-century's greatest social commentator, I can eat a chicken sandwich if I want to.

So, my friends, family, loved and liked ones, I ask you please, don't think any less of me when I tell you this, but... I... didn't... smoke... anything. Nothing. Not a damn thing. Not one bickie, blunt, bong, bucket, chillum, cone, cookie, fatty, hookah, J, joint or spliff.

I came all this way, saw more drugs in 10 seconds than I'd seen in near three decades, and I shall be leaving town with a clean conscience and an even cleaner urine sample.

I'm sorry. Truly.

Wagah Border

Even though I've long since left Punjab, there's one more little activity I'd like to share with you all, my trip to the Pakistan Border.

Amritsar lies just 30 km from Wagah Village, which is the only point along the entire 3,000km Indo-Pakistan border where it's possible to cross by road.

At sunset, each and every night, ceremonial soldiers from both sides of the border gather for the official closing ceremony. The ceremony is free to view and hugely popular with the spectators. Thousand of civilians on both side of the fence gather in the massive arena-style stands to watch this comical parade.

It's a phenomenal spectacle. It has the atmosphere of a football grand final, with music, singing, dancing, cheering, and loads of flag waving. Each side has an MC to really rev up their crowds. India's will shout "Hindustan!", to which the packed stadium replies "Zindabad!". Long live India, essentially.

And this is all before the official ceremony even starts...

The whole thing runs for about an hour, and both sides (dressed, bar colour, in identical peacock-inspired uniforms) essentially perform the whole ceremony in unison. There's lots of yelling, and each member of the ceremony squad takes his turn to charge at the open border, swinging his arms violently, and then pausing at the official line. Facing toward Pakistan, he then pulls his most aggressive don't-fuck-with-me pose. Well, it's supposed to look aggressive, but it's hard to look tough with a parrot strapped to your head.

The whole thing was scarily reminiscent of the infamous Zoolander walk off.

It all finally concludes with the lowering of the flags, which is done in perfect diplomatic unison.

If you're ever 'in the hood', definitely get down to see it. It's brilliantly entertaining, and a fascinating insight into Indo-Pak relations.

Forbidden

Take your unholy, hormonal moodiness elsewhere, please!

Golden Temple

Yep, it's made of gold. Real gold. Not solid, but it's plated at least. Some reports say 750kg of pure gold was used in its construction, others only 100kg. Not that it matters, it looks brilliant regardless.

Built by the Sikhs, this holy temple is the feature piece of Amritsar city and lies just to the north of the great Thar Desert. Amritsar was, disappointingly, my only stopover in Punjab.

The Golden Temple (or Harmandir Sahib) receives more visitors than the Taj, and I'm not at all surprised. Not only is it a magnificent sight, but the Sikhs (and Punjabis in general) are some of the most welcoming people on earth. Visiting the temple is free, staying in the dorms is free, and eating in the food hall is... yes, free.

I've seen a lot of temples so far, and I often wonder how the locals feel about the hoards of camera-wielding tourists infesting their most holy places of worship. But here at the Golden Temple, they seem more that perfectly happy about it, proud that you want to be a part of it too. Even if you don't share any of the same ideologies.

Karni Mata Temple - The Temple of Rats

On my way north I visited a small city called Bikaner, a HOT desert town, former capital, and an essential stopover to restock my clean underwear supply.

Bikaner itself wasn't all that interesting, but just a few kms outside the city is one of the most unusual temples I've seen so far.

Here's the two minute back story:

Karni Mata, a 16th century Hindu sage, once got into a fight with Yama, the god of death. KM had wanted to reincarnate the son of local story teller but couldn't do so as Yama had already claimed the young boy's soul. KM was annoyed. Very annoyed. So in an act of revenge, she vowed that Yama would never again receive another soul from her tribe. So now whenever one of the KM clan passes on, they're reborn as a rat. Take that Yama!



So obviously the place is crawling with rats. They're everywhere! And they're very well looked after, being fed milk, water and grain by the visiting worshipers.

Oh, and it's believed that having them scuttle across your feet brings good luck. If anyone would like to kiss my lucky feet when I get back home, just let me know.