Pondicherry, Tamil Nadu February 27, 2009

Marci and I have landed in Puducherry (aka Pondicherry), the charming french colonial town known as “The French Riviera of the East.” The town’s feel is very european; not only due to the multiple sidewalk cafes (Marci and I plan to sample each and every one) but also the many middle-aged European vacationers abound.

Our first two nights in town, we settled for an affordable and lax ashram fully stocked with cell-like rooms and a plethora of old Indian men.  The beauty of the French quarter sucked us in and for our third night we splurged on a fancy hotel to celebrate our final night together on the Indian mainland.

We meticulously chose a guest house with a great garden, high ceilings, very cold air conditioning and a bathroom larger than any guest house room we stayed in before.

Upon arrival, we excitedly jumped on the comfy bed, ran laps through our spacious quarters and showered every chance we got.  To continue the celebration, we made a reservation for a seafood brunch at the fanciest hotel on the beach (use of the pool included) and brought along two other travelers longing to be pampered.  We spent two hours devouring the fresh seafood, diverse salads and global main dishes in the buffet…the deserts were a half hour in themselves.  Afterwards, we happily sank into the pool from the weight of our own bellies.

Karuna Farm, Tamil Nadu February 27, 2009

Per Tommy the Swede’s recommendation, we set out to find Karuna Farm (www.karunafarm.in) for our last night in the Western Ghats.  The rumor was that a shuttle picks the “farmers” up in town at 10:00 every morning.  After two hours of sitting on the curb, we bargained with a taxi to take us as far as he could.  We zipped up and over two valleys by car, then down, down, down into a final valley on foot for 2 km.

The “farm” seemed quite strange upon arrival…basically deserted.  One or two brightly painted cottages could be seen from the main path; banana trees and various other garden treasures dominated the landscape.  Out of the bushes, an old Indian man with a long white beard and long white hair welcomed us to Karuna.  We were shown to the only cottage left – a beautiful, all-stone house with a hammocked porch and an immaculate bathroom with running hot water.

We were happy to lower the price by adding two old friends from Gokarna to our cottage…you couldn’t pay us to walk back out of paradise.

Admiring the view from our porch, other travelers popped out of the gardens.  We soon discovered that the farm was at capacity with 30 guests nestled into hidden cottages across the mountainside.

One of the main draws to the farm (aside from the obvious) is to help with the construction of Alex’s Earth Ship Home.  “Earth Ships” (www.earthsip.net) are completely self-sustaining structures started by the architect Michael Reynolds in Taos, New Mexico.  The idea is to assemble buildings out of materials that are either environmentally friedndly or help in the overall cleanup of the Earth.  The structures must be able to function without tapping into centralized utilities or non-renewable fuels.  All Earth Ships are designed to utitize reneweable energy sources (ie the sun) and to recycle gray water (all internal waste water aside from sewage) in a way that still supports a comfortable living environment.

The Earthship in Karuna is being constructed entirely out of used tires that are hammered full of earth and cardboard to create well-insulated bricks.  Often times, cans, bottles and other recyclables are used as spacers.  My first afternoon at the farm, I helped seal the tire gaps with mud and water.  The process is slow – it has taken nearly eight months to flatten the foundation and build two layers of tire bricks.  My half hour contribution sealed two gaps

The Cleanest Place in India… February 27, 2009

Vattakanal has officially grown on me; I’d venture to say it is my favorite place so far.  After saying goodbye to half of the Ameri-Gang, Marci and I set out to explore a distant tin-roofed village spotted from a view point in town.  The trail zig-zagged from Vattakanal down the steep mountainside with flora transitioning from high mountain shrubbery:

…to dense jungle

Seven kilometers down, we reached Vilakali (or so we understood the name to be), a small village of 150 people crammed onto a small plateau the size of a football field.

Just before entering the village, a brightly colored sign read: “Please Remove Footwears.”  Following suit, we removed both footwears and stepped into what we named “the cleanest place in India.”

We aimlessly wandered up one narrow street and down the only other street in the village.  Not a spec of trash was to be seen.  It appeared as though the entire town was swept regularly.

Rows of small houses barely taller than us were vividly painted in matching blues, greens and pinks.

Little kids (all under the age of five) curiously circled us

The only adults we saw were women who politely smiled as they went about their daily tasks of laying out colorful coffee beans to dry, hand roasting coffee beans in tin cans over bamboo stick fires or proudly watching over the young children of the village.

Within five minutes we had circled the entire village.  With our second loop, we found one woman with bananas to share; another with the freshest, most amazing local coffee we’d ever tasted, sweetened Indian style.  Once we could no longer entertain the kiddos with our camera, we headed out for the long hike back up to Vattakanal with many  questions for the first english speaker we passed about this charming  man-less, teenager-less town.

En route, a shop owner informed us that every morning at 6:00 am, the men and child-less women make the seven km hike up the mountain to work in Kodaikanal.  Every eveining around sunset they return down the hill loaded with supplies for the village.  Children are educated in the town until fifth grade; the older students attend boarding school three hours away and return home only for holidays.  As to how the town keeps up its image of the cleanest place in India is still a mystery…

Vattakanal, Tamil Nadu February 22, 2009

We’ve managed to find every American in southern India and stuff them into one cottage in the Western Ghat mountains.

From Tamil Nadu

Wei, Marci, Kathryn and I snuggle into one bedroom; Christine, Amy, and Heather in the other; the Swedes bunk upstairs.

The whole family comes together in the main room made up of a makeshift kitchen and living room.

From Tamil Nadu

We’ve become accustomed to heating water for a bucket shower, hand washing our laundry, running outside in the cold of night to get to the toilet, and scrubbing dishes and fetching water from the spicket outside.

Best of all, we’re becoming very used to reading the day and night away, cooking mass dinners for us and our neighbors, walking 3 km into town to stock up on produce at the farmer’s market,

exploring the lush, diverse mountains surrounding the cottage

and admiring the dramatic view out our front window of the Western Ghats falling 5,000 feet into the valley below.

Finding Kodaikanal, Tamil Nadu February 22, 2009

Feeling like my Lonely Planet was sucking the adventure out of travel, I downsized and gave it away.  As a result, it took two days of sampling the Indian bus system to get ~150 km to find the Ameri-gang again.

From Tamil Nadu

At every bus station from Fort Cochin on, I quizzed the Enquiry Desk Man as to which bus was leaving soonest to the prettiest town in the direction of Kodaikanal.  By 2pm on the first day, I emerged from the city into rolling hills covered in deciduous trees.  While thinking I had successfully found a peaceful layover spot sans guide, Coimbatore (a city of around 5 million people) popped out of the hills.  There is someone everywhere in India.  With helpful suggestions from everyone I passed, I upgraded to a business-man’s hotel for the evening.  On the final stretch of my bus tour, I met two Swedes who entertained me all the way to the hill station, Kodaikanal.

From Tamil Nadu

Fort Cochin February 22, 2009

Needing some time alone, I left the group at the bus stand in Ernakulam and took a ferry to the charming island of Fort Cochin.  Compared to the industrial mainland, Fort Cochin seems like a haven.  Huge spider-like 15th century Chinese fishing nets lure visitors to one side of the island.

Well manicured mansions kept up from the days of the British Raj surround the red-tile roofed village at the island’s center.

Mini cement bridges fashioned as driveways cross the canals to connect Fort Cochin houses to the island’s many narrow streets.  I found a cheap homestay and did…nothing.

Allepey, Kerala – The Backwaters February 22, 2009

From Ashram, backwaters – Kerala

After four hours of haggling, we found an affordable house boat fully equipped with tacky posters and contact paper ‘hard-wood’ floors.

From Ashram, backwaters – Kerala

The next day at the government regulated disembarkation time of 11:00, we found our little boat sandwiched between hundreds of other “deluxe” all-tik boats with flat screens, A/C and sliding glass doors.  We joined the mass brigade for take off but soon freed ourselves into the peaceful “lake” that is the Keralan backwaters.

From Ashram, backwaters – Kerala

We chugged for hours through intricate canals past egrids playing in rice fields and the occasional cement abode.

From Ashram, backwaters – Kerala

By sunset, we pulled into the “front yard” of the boat owner’s house to sleep aboard.  Next door, we picked a half kg of fresh blue king prawns bigger than my head and watched as the boat chef sauteed them in his ’special’ coconut sauce.  The owner kept us entertained if not through his stories than the fact that he pronounced Marci as “Merci” and Aimee as “enemy.”  We ended the night with beers and cards as the local men completed their daily commute in dugout canoes.

From Ashram, backwaters – Kerala

Varkala to Allepey, Kerala February 22, 2009

Varkala has an ideal location – fancy cafes and boutiques sit atop beautiful leafy cliffs; white sand beaches roll into the ocean below. 

All day, we dirtied ourselves from the Ashram with cocktails, meat, rich food and swimming ‘half-naked’ in our swim suits.  The next morning, Wei and his four Valentines (we’ve become solo women traveler magnets) set out north for Allepey in a “Sleeper Class” train.  In contrast to rumors, we had a great time with the five of us and three generations of a family of eight packed into a berth built for six.

Sivananda Yoga Vedanta Dhanwantari Ashram – Neyyar Dam, Kerala February 22, 2009

Kerala stands up to its reputation as a progressive, near-socialist oasis in the southern tip of India.  For the first time in months, I saw an abundance of women walking around town laughing and literally letting their hair hang down.

From Kerala, India

The streets are clean and well paved.  People are happy and polite and best of all very accepting and respectful of us as foreigners.

Marci and I took the bus from Trivandrum (the capitol) into the jungle nature reserve, Neyyar Dam.

From Kerala, India

We walked up to the Ashram with two other Americans in the peace of birds chirping and lake water gently hitting the shore.  Once at the Ashram, I immediately felt like I was at summer camp for big kids.  I organized my things with my twelve other new roomies in the Jubilee Women’s dorm.  At 6:00 on the dot, we were called to dinner with bells, chanting and enthusiastic clapping.  With about 100 other yogis, I filed into the dining hall and took a seat on the floor behind my designated banana leaf (aka plate).

From Kerala, India

In total silence (for better digestion), the servers walked the rows of hungry guests dishing out rice and four to five deeeelicious onion, garlic and dairy-free vegetarian accompaniments from large metal buckets.

Following Indian tradition, we devoured our meal with our RIGHT hand.  After dinner, I curiously attended my first evening Satsang which consisted of 1/2 hour of meditation and an hour and a half of a cult-like chant session conducted by the orange-clad Swamis seated on stage.

From Kerala, India

The first morning at the Ashram, we were shaken awake by the ringing of bells at 5:20 a.m.  To exercise our minds for meditation, we counted our footsteps in silence as we walked around the lake formed by Neyyar Dam.  After a failed attempt to meditate on the lake shore, I watched the sunrise light up the jungled Agastya Peak and Sadyadu Hills contmeplating this strange place I’ve commited to.

From Kerala, India

“Ashram” is a Sanskrit word meaning “refuge from the pressures of daily life.”  The Sivananda Yoga Ashram also advertises “a safe space for personal development and the pursuit of spiritual ideals.”  Yoga itself is a much more complex than the western interpretation of exercise and stretching.  It is an all-encompassing balance of mind, body and spirit.  The Sivananda school of yoga believes this balance is achieved by carefully tending the mind’s vehicle (aka the body) through healthy vegetarian eating and yoga asanas and cleansing and nurturing the soul (the body’s passenger) through Karma Yoga (selfless service) and chanting.  It is believed that this balance is necessary for the mind (the body/vehicle’s driver) to succesfully complete its path to self-realization.  From our introduction we learned that this enlightenment does not come easily – the Ashram strictly enforces a mandatory daily schedule:

5:20 a.m. wake up bells

6:00-7:30 morning Satsang (group meditation, chanting)

7:30-8:00 Tea time

8:00-10:00 morning Asana yoga (ie physical yoga positions)

10:00-10:30 Brunch

11:00-12:00 Karma Yoga (selfless service, aka chores)

2:00-3:15 Lecture

3:30-6:00 Evening Asana yoga

6:00-6:30 Dinner

8:00-10:00 Evening Satsang

To “alleviate” visitors of outside pressures, cell phones are strictly prohibited and guests need hard-earned permission to visit town for internet or a break.  Women are expected to follow a conservative dress code: no attire that shows the shoulders, chest, mid-drift or knees, nothing form-fitting and fully covering clothes when swimming in the lake (ugh!).

In the beginning, a day in Ashram life felt busy but also relaxing.  Rising before dawn, those who cannot sleep off the wake-up bell sit in the early morning darkness of Shiva Hall “practicing” meditation.  The moderator gently coaches everyone:  sit comfortably in a cross-legged position.  Take a few deep breaths and clear your mind then relax your breathing until you begin to meditate.  In my failed attempts, I translated this to mean sit in complete boredom for a half hour.  Once the sun was up, we begin the daily chants by enthusiastically beating drums and tamborines while repeating Hindu mantras sung by the Swami (leader).  Meals are infrequent but surprisingly savory – I generally take four to five servings due to my preoccupations about only eating twice a day.

From Kerala, India

My entire stay, I was lucky enough to have the glamorous Karma Yoga job of cleaning the bathrooms in the camping area.  The job isn’t as bad as it sounds since in India, the toilets are of the squat variety (ie you a hole in the ground) and the shower sprays straight into the the bathroom…no need to waste resources on a bathtub or other divider.  The asana classes are amazing.  My sore muscles stubbornly cooperated the first three days.  By now it feels as though every internal system works in perfect unity – muscles and bones move in harmony and my fingers happuly reach my toes.

From Ashram, backwaters – Kerala

Lecture is generally something light such as “What is Humanities Purpose?” or “The validity of Intuition.”  Everyone is friendly and optimistic, interested in eachother’s journeys and aspirations both inside and outside of India.  Aside from Marci, I have not met many Americans; it is now apparent that they are all here.

At the start it seemed as though the common purpose of healthy mind and body trumped the constraints of the rules and strict schedule.  However as the week rolled on, the rigid schedule religious Hindu undertones start to get to people – my dorm dropped from twelve ladies to five.

From Ashram, backwaters – Kerala

On one side, I loathe the control and unwelcomed discipline.  On the other side, I understand how external indulgences and a free-flowing schedule can have a negative effect on the healthful rejuvenation the Ashram stands for.

Regardless, I soon decided that I prefer my liberal existence to the Ashram’s discipline and befriended other rebels.  Wei (from Kansas City) figured out how to jump the Ashram wall to surf the internet during lecture.  Our dorm made a habit of following the steps to prepare for Satsang while under supervision until it was safe to hide out listening to jazz and playing scrabble or watching old episodes of Entourage on Wei’s laptop.

Ashram, backwaters – Kerala

We would work together to sneak boys in while everyone was meditating.  Worst of all, our newly formed American constituency couldn’t resist eating bottomless peanut butter to pollute our healthy eating.

During our way too short mid-day break, I started to love my escape into the Neyyar Dam Nature Reserve.  Multiple footpaths cut through the seemingly unpopulated jungle but always ended at a small red-tile roof hut.  For hours I would choose footpath after footpath and uncover happy families, rubber tree plantations, white washed temples and endless mountains.  I don’t doubt that these distractions from discipline are killing my yogic development and spiritual growth but these distractions also carry much more laughter and smiles…I’ll take the latter.

From Ashram, backwaters – Kerala

Feeling flexible enough, Marci and I decided to leave with Wei and Amy (another San Franciscan) on day 13, a Friday.  Through rumors and then an official announcement, we discovered that a transportation strike on Friday would impede our move from the Ashram.  Seeing our dreams of sleeping in and indulging in worldy vices slip away, we booked a taxi to leave Thursday night.  We watched traditional South Indian Kahtakali dancers at the Ashram for an hour then embarked on the road to freedom at 10:30 pm.

From Ashram, backwaters – Kerala

Our white 50’s style was suspicioulsy question twice by the police in their attempt to show control over the strike.  WE arrived to the cliffed beached of Varkala by 1am and were soon sleeping soundly knowing that the discipline and chanting of the Ashram were behind us – our adventure was to recommence!