Hello All; I hope this posts with a picture of the Kindgom of Bahrain in the left corner--
Sorry not to post for awhile. Truth is, I had been dissapointed in our trek, had a breakdown in Thamel, and thus lost interest in the blog because I didn't want to share the difficult parts of this journey. Or rather, it's easy to share the cultural difficulties than my own challenges I face no matter where in the world I live. I had elevated the trek into a quest for personal answers, and when I found few, if any, I felt that this world I'm circling had let me down. At Tangeboche, we did see the clouds part, Jamie shared her classroom preparatory reading from the previous evening, an old favorite by Annie Dillard. "I cannot cause light, I can merely place myself in the path of it's beam." The prayer gongs came at 6 AM from the Buddhist temple to the left of us. And we left. Hiked to Lukla.
Flew out the following morning.
Returned to Thamel. (KTM, Nepal)
Jamie & Sameer had a fight.
And I lost faith in my journey.
I lost faith in my own journey and to some extent, also lost faith in our universe's ability to offer answers when the seeker believes they're desperately needed. If you're in the dark about this, imagine spending a lot of time, money and energy on a trip when you're an out of work English major-- it might make you feel like you need to "get" something from it. I allowed myself to feel dissappointed, and as I let these expectations go, I let Pune in, for exactly what it was.
I had my first real teaching experiences with Jamie. I was quite scared, but by my last day, the students all wanted to keep in touch with me, and I am going to read their batch of creative nonfiction essays about place and home. For the junior college, it turned out that ours was their first ever creative writing course. Knowing that, which I think is unsatisfactory, helped me get the courage to teach them something new, and something that matters. Our class was taught with the idea that writers who focus on place can bring big issues home: think technology, global warming, globalisation-- the local writer can see affects and small ripples, good or bad, that scientists and journalists don't see.
Outside of challenge of it, living in Pune for 20 days was a nice break, breaking up our lack of routine. I went to a pottery class with Hema two times, we watched Hindi films on the LCD projector we'd been hauling around for Sameer's projects in Nepal and Jamshedpur. We had mango barfi, which is like fudge w/out chocolate, lots of healthy meals and wonderfully lazy mornings over masala chai. Cafe Coffee Day reappeared in our lives as a planning site for the courses. Jamie and I attended a Hindi classical music concert--- it was amazing; the theme was ragas and rainbows (ragas are chord sets that songs are created from, like a painting with only 4 colors, these ragas are songs with a certain range and set of notes). I gave a standing ovation and got to meet the performers onstage afterward, thanks to Rahul, a freelance journalist for the Times of India's, connections. We also visited a coppersmith colony, a fort in pune, and a very intersting art museum depicting Pune warriors and Pune's hero, who plowed the first of the land himself with a golden plow. I had Iranian food, which was brilliant, and danced to more Bryan Adams and Elvis than I care to be honest about.
And then, all of a sudden, I was leaving. It seemed to drag, and then happen so fast. Hema, a beautiful soul there in Pune, was instrumental in making me see how people trap themselves, and I have to say, of all the things I saw in India, here are the things I've learned the most: I love my family so much. And I'm no longer thinking about limits and can't. I started just asking myself what I want to do in my life, and I realized that question is worded incorrectly; sometimes it's more useful to ask, what can I do, what can I offer the world? There is a way in which I feel quite enlightened, and I attribute it to Pune. When I wake up in the morning, I no longer ask myself what time it is. The sky is in your forehead.
In Delhi, I met a great guy named Chris; he and Sameer and I had a wonderful time walking in the rain in the city. I spent the night alone in the seedy tourist part of New Delhi. I don't know much about termites or unstable walls, but bits of the ceiling were dripping down on my head. I'm a light sleeper anyway, but this made jump every time I felt it on my face, so Harry Potter and I had a nice flash-lit night together instead. The following morning I flew to Bahrain, where Gulf Air kindly gave me free food and lodging, and I got to see the amazing Middle East.
The Kingdom of Bahrain is surrounded by green water; it's an island off the coast of Saudi Arabia. It's known as the Pearl of the Arabic Sea; the island's visual landscape is composed of three things: sand, asphault, and condos. It was such a beautiful place-- I don't know exactly what was so attractive about the immensity of the mosques, the women in burkas and the streets and sand and arabic script, but I loved it. I wish I could have been able to see some of the graves and villages and much more of the city. I was in Bahrain from 9 AM to 1 AM. On my flight to Frankfurt I met a guy from Mississippi who works on an oil rig outside Saudi; they work 28 days on, then 28 days off. It was quite interesting to hear about the lifestyle and job duties of this man. It all just happened yesterday, but I felt it was such a gift to be able to see the Middle East and add this perspective to my journey, if only for a couple of hours.
I'm now safely in Frankfurt, looking forward to time with Boris and Amelie and finding a way to get the smell out of my sandals.
So until next time, which will probably be a Deutschland report from good 'ole Oregon country.
Thanks for sticking with me, all of you. It's hard to write when you've no time to edit, process or make sense of it all, but like my new friend Chris said, sometimes that's the best time to take a word and share.
