Postcard from Michelle

A beautiful postcard from Michelle arrived today. She writes: 
"What a lovely place this is...gentle people...the birds are in full song most of the day. At the yoga center, we had a cuckoo outside our window...comes to Nepal only in summer...5 a.m. wake-up!
Roosters in town, birds in the mountains. Lessons in detachment, as nothing is reliable. All good...leave the Western world behind.
It's in the 90s here. 
Happy Spring! " 

Ananda Yoga

Michelle writes:
I'm now at my next yoga experience.  We arrived outside Kathmandu on the mountainside, above the pollution and noise.  

It's an older place with just a Turkish toilet in the room and no sink. All these places are in varying degrees of primitive. 

There is only one other woman here: Caroline, from Australia. She has been here for the month for teacher training.  I'm glad to have someone to talk to and get the low down. The main yoga instructor has been sick for several days and has been to the hospital for testing, but they can't determine what it is, so I'm not sure what the classes will be like.

Gunga taught this morning's class: breathing and gentle yoga. I'm sure it's hard to be getting new people and trying to teach to their level. Caroline is finishing her instruction tomorrow, so they are covering lessons for her. It's approximately $900 for the teacher training, less than half of what it is in the States. I had to pay for my days up front, which is not typical, and it causes me a little concern, as the instructor is ill. 
This morning we chanted and kirtan.* The cool mountain air is so pleasant after the heat of Lumbini. 

Every place is unique, with its own special experience. The people are warm, and the other travelers are a great source of information as they share stories of their travels. There are no expectations, no worries--all that is lost energy--we're chanting and raising consciousness.

*Cheryl's note: According to Wikipedia, Kirtan practice involves chanting hymns or mantras to the accompaniment of instruments such as the harmonium, tablas, the two-headed mrdanga or pakawaj drum, and karatal hand cymbals.

Faces of Buddha

Sharing

These young monks offered me milk tea after I was caught in a downpour at the Sri Lankan temple in Lumbini, Nepal.

Sharing the road

How to Terrace a Mountainside

Lesson in how to terrace mountainside: first, climb trees barefoot, then, cut branches and trunk with swift blows using curved blade. All hand labor. 2-3 small, strong men created these 3 terraces while I was there in 12 days.

View from Sadhana

View from Sadhana yoga center in Pokhara

Para-gliders are out every day.

Lumbini

Michelle writes:
Namaste from Lumbini!Sitting on my bed in a darkened room, drapes drawn and power off.  No fan, no air conditioning, trying to preserve the cool from 2 hours ago when there was power.  Mandatory black outs are typical here. Over 100 degrees outside with a dry, dirty wind.

Lorraine, recently retired from the UK, is asleep in the bed next to me. She was up a good part of the night vomiting. She had made a 2-day trek before we left and felt that with the heat and exertion compounded with inadequate fluid intake set this off. We left Pokhara this morning at 6 am, trying to beat the heat. We shared the cost of a car, which was faster, door to door service to our hotel. Lorraine sat up front, already sick before the 6-hour drive. The driver asked if he could bring his wife as she had not been to Lumbini. The 4 of us set out in a small compact (think smart car size). Our 2 packs in the rear hatch provided a head rest. 


We set out in the cool morning air. Today is New Year for Nepal. Passing a fair grounds, we saw tables set up for the festivities. If we had known about this, we would have stayed another day. We started our winding ascent out of the city. The driver's wife, who doesn't speak English, started spitting out the window. I asked the driver if she gets car sick. Yes. 

The landscape looked like a documentary: terraced mountainside of different hues, houses scattered. This road is smoother than from Kathmandu and not as heavily traveled. People walked along the roadway carrying large bags slung on their backs held by the band across their foreheads. I asked the driver what was in the bags. He said dirt for the gardens, because it washes away with the rains. The farmers are busy now as they prepare for the rainy season. Others carry woven baskets filled with dry leaves, which provides bedding for the goats. Others look like walking shrubbery, with leafy branches tied together and suspended from their heads--goat food. The cows wander as they wish, docile as they share the roadways with motorbikes, cars and pedestrians. 

After three hours of travel, all three of us are sick. Luckily, I had put a plastic bag in my pack this morning, so we didn't need to stop for my bout of vomiting. The roads are just 2-car widths, with no shoulders or white line. The passing car beeps to alert the car in front to move over, hopefully on a straighter stretch of road.  I'm glad I sat in back; I would have been gripping the dash. I think the bus (a longer minivan) is better for me, not so zippy around the curves.

When we stopped for a break, Lorraine lost it, discreetly between the car and open door. I used the toilet, or should I say hole. Lower level of a shop, porcelain lined hole, no sink, drip dry. The shop keeper was busy making samosas for the tourist bus when it stops.

Standing there getting a sense of equilibrium in our gut and head, we watched a ram goat walk up the street and up the stairs to a shop selling produce. 

He checked out empty boxes, found banana peels, and then scored a large clump of green grapes. The men and boys from neighboring booths came to the vendor's aid with hand brooms. They all were cautious.  

Finally a young man lured the goat with fresh bananas that he peeled and held in front of the goat's nose. The goat followed him. More bananas were thrown in the street. The show's over. The smiling crowd watching with me dispersed.
Just another day!