Week 1

I’m writing this post from bed: after a week, those sneaky microscopic bastards finally got me.  I spent most of Tuesday in a feverish stupor and in the end saw a doctor (a strange experience) and picked up some antibiotics (doctors visit + antibiotics and other medicine = $3). On a related note, I will probably never eat tandoori chicken again.  Luckily, I’m surrounded by amazing people who were unimaginably helpful in taking care of me.  I feel blessed to have received such an outpouring of kindness from people I’ve only known a week; it only reinforces what a special place this is.

Travel Ganesh says- don't eat meat in India!

Earlier in the week, I took my camera out exploring.  It’s impossible to truly capture how colorful and vibrant India is, but here are a few of my sights and experiences.

With my friend Isabel, I took a rickshaw to the Mysore Zoo, one of the “must see” attractions of the area.  

Even rickshaws have to stop for gas

I’m starting to get more used to rickshaws.  Between swerving around stray cows and weaving in and out of oncoming traffic, they require a certain amount of blind faith in your survival.

Unbeknownst to us, the day we picked to go to the zoo was also one of the biggest holidays on the Muslim calendar, so it was packed.  We soon found that we were as much of a novelty to our fellow zoo-goers as the lions and elephants.  Children were thrilled to have us take their picture, or better yet to take a picture with their whole family.

These little guys were characters 

My Indian family

Fascination with the unusual aside, I think in most cases the children are just excited to have a chance to practice their English.  The inevitable series of questions: “Hello, how are you? What country? Can we take a picture?” (followed by giggles).

On our day off from yoga practice, a group of us took a road trip to a nearby Tibetan village, Bylakuppe.  But first, we had breakfast at Santosha’s, a delicious highlight of many of my days. 

French Press and French Canadian

The land for the village of Bylakuppe was donated by the Indian government to Tibetan refugees and is now home to a prosperous community that includes hundreds of monks who gather at the famous Golden Temple.  The photo requests continued, especially since we were traveling with someone who is 6’7. 

The girls and their fan club

Take a picture with the tall guy!

Inside, the massive temple houses three 60’ golden statues.  We timed our trip so as to be present for the mid-day prayer ceremony, at which point the temple floods with monks chanting in rhythmic unison.  It was a powerful and unique experience. 

One thing that troubled me about the temple, and that pervades many other experiences in India generally, was the stark contrast between opulence and poverty.  Just outside this beautiful and lavishly decorated temple, small children in tattered rags tug at your shirt, begging for money and food.  Every morning as I walk to yoga, the servants of wealthy households diligently scrub their front walks as barefoot women from nearby slums pick through the piles of garbage that collect on abandoned lots.  An orphanage nestled amidst mega-homes has a basket for abandoned babies with a sign that tragically reads, “Do not kill your baby, leave it here.”  It’s strange to see such extreme stratification of wealth socially accepted… then again I feel that, given the brevity of my time here, there is still much more I have yet to learn.