bouldering in hampi

it has been much too long since my last post so after arriving into bangalore this early a.m from hampi, i've decide to waste the day away in a swanky net cafe. this is my last day in india and i leave with a lightness of heart and joyous expectation of my return. i've spent the last few days in hampi, a small town made famous by the numerous ancient ruins and the amass of spectacular boulders. i remember seeing hampi in a chris sharma climbing video, pilgrimage, and i made a mental note to make it there some day.
i had originally planned to spend my final two weeks on the beach in goa and perhaps make a trip over to hampi for 2 or 3 days. i have been carrying my climbing shoes around for over two months and was hoping to put them into use at least once on this trip. after a week in goa, i was more than ready to leave. the beach and food were wonderful, some of the locals friendly, but the disrespectful westerners there made me nauseous. a rickshaw driver told me once that goa 'is not india' and i can see this now. it's been almost 30 years since the portuguese gave up their colonial rule over this small province and i was hard pressed to find any indian culture. its a 'package-tourist' kind of place (even though i was suppose to be on the 'idyllic' beach - lol) where most of the tourists i saw had no idea or regard to what was ok and not ok in india. i felt ashamed to be an all-consuming westerner once again and going to hampi and meeting some climbers was a welcome relief.
while in hampi, i met a woman named 'begum' who rented out huts, and all the gear needed for bouldering. sitting around the large table outside her simple house, i met several long-term climbers like hari (who has done up a topo for the place)and mathias. these guys come around oct/nov and stay till the 'hot' comes, about mid-feb. i spent quite a bit of time at begum's, drinking coffee and swapping stories with her about family, life and love. her stories particularly touched me, bringing me to tears at times, as i listened. when i asked her how she got into the climbing business, she explained to me that she had been married to a new zealand climber for 16 years and that they had two children. when i asked where he was, a veil of sadness clouded her eyes and she said that four years ago, he had went over to visit a friend and never came back. the police went looking for him a few days later and found his clothes scattered along the road side, his body buried under a pile of stones a day later. begum said several times that he was a good man, with good health, and that she thought someone had given him drugs. she was never given any other explanation for what happened to her husband and the police were no help. she brought me into her house to show me some of his paintings, scenic water colours, and the two canvases that were left unfinished. so sad.....
she went to tell me that 2002 was an especially bad year as a month after her husband disappeared, her 20 year brother was killed in a rickshaw accident and both her oldest brother and brother-in-law disappeared. the disappearances were the same stories; both were good, hard-working men who left their jobs for the day to return home but never made it there. there were no answers for why.
i was speechless. death and the loss of a loved-one is never easy to deal with but at least there is some finality to it. how can one possibly accept and move on with all the questions left? begum said these kinds of happenings were very common in india but mostly with children. parents take a chance by letting their kids go to school everyday, as many of them must travel hours by bus to reach the small village schools.
after her husband's death, hari, the aforementioned climber, designed the topo, had all the climbers donate their old shoes and pads, and got the word out on the net that begum was the one to see if you wanted info on the bouldering. hari was an interesting austrian guy. i didn't speak to him much as he deemed me 'not really a climber' after i didn't recognize all the trad route possibilities and hadn't ever climbed on sandstone before. he did give me some creditability though for carrying around my bouldering gear....just in case.


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lucky

these days, i've acquired a new nickname. i stuck with 'jenna' after leaving the teacher training in c.m since it seemed to be easier and i've got an affection for it now, preferring it over the ubiquitous 'jennifer'. since arriving in palolem beach though, sydney and abai, 2 young indian boys working at the coco huts i'm staying at, have coined me 'lucky'. it started with my hut number, 7, and when i said to the boys i must be 'lucky' to be staying there, they laughed their heads off and have taken it quite seriously. the nickname has spread so i'm now known as the 'lucky, who is making lots of yoga'. funny...
this camp of coco huts has turned into a family of sorts as there are a few of us whom have been there for a while (meaning more than 3 days). there is the dutch beauties next door to me that have become close coffee companions, 2 single mothers with a sister and 3 small children between them from the u.k, 2 newbie parisian boys and lars, the amiable german guy with waist-length dreads and a penchant for natural highs. lars' attention has become highly coveted amongst all the single women in our camp and he is often in the center of our circles being offered fruit, a smoke or a back rub. looking over us all is 'mama', the tiny indian woman who is in charge of the huts and keeps a tight watch over the boys working for her.
it's become very comfortable here on the beach, and although there is a lot to do, i find myself laying around thinking about doing something more so than actually doing it. tomorrow is my last day in goa as i will head to the boulders of hampi monday evening, dutch girls in tow. i have a 2-hour session with a catamaran sailor from the u.k tomorrow morning, keeping in with the tradition of learning something new every birthday. i'm a little nervous about being far out in the open waters but there is a good chance we may run into dolphins and maybe even get to go for a swim with them. perhaps they can teach me the finer points of dolphin pose.

happy birthday meggie!!!

to my sweetest niece meighan,

happy 21st birthday!
you are a beautiful soul and i'm so blessed to have you in my life. i wish you much love and many belly laughs on your special day and all your days to come. i miss you and love you very much.


xoxoxoxox

thinking of you.....

waves...

i think in a previous life i was a fish or a seaside palm tree because there is something about the ocean that makes me feel so good, so alive. i knew as soon as i woke at 5:50 am on the train in margao, goa that i was once again near the sea just by the feel of the air. it felt like home. i arrived yesterday into goa after an amazing overnight train ride from mysore to margao. i was a little nervous about traveling on the train alone after having been warned by other westerners and indians about possible dangers. the train was thankfully mostly empty and i shared the compartment with a distinguished-looking indian man and a lovely family with a 9-month old gorgeous baby. it was such a luxury to be watching the sites and scenery fly by me as i lounged on the bench/bed seats by the window, not to mention the boys who came by with coffee and snacks every 10 minutes or so.
after collecting my heavy, gift-laden bags, i met a friendly man who offered to take me to palolem beach on the back of his motorcycle (for way too much money of course ;). i decided to accept a ride to the local bus station but once on the back of the bike, the warm wind in my face with the sky turning pink from the impending sunrise, i decided it was a great way to see some of goa and relaxed into the hour-long trip to the beach. the man took me to a 'friends' place, which consisted of some very-basic palm thatched huts steps away from the water. after dropping my bags, i couldn't resist the urge to walk in the sea and watch the sun come up over the hills while i washed away the remaining mysore city dust.
this morning i got up and went for my first run in over two months. i was barefoot and bare-bodied, wearing only shorts and a sports bra, enjoying every rhymthic step in the warm sand. after going a few lengths of the beach, i jumped onto my yoga mat facing the horizen and had one of the best self-practices. although the beach is far from deserted, staring out into the ocean seemed to energize my focus and concentration as i moved myself through the asanas. with a quick dip in the water and a bowl of organic fruit, musuli and curd (plus coffee - yum), i can't stop smiling. i feel healthy again and so thankful for my parents for bringing me into this world of abundance and beauty.

pics from bylakuppe, tibetan settlement in india

happy birthday!!!

...after putting up that last post, i realized the date and that it is my brother chris' and my grandmother catherine's birthday. i sending you both lots of love on your special day and looking forward to talking to you soon. i love you. j xoxo

quest for the singing bowl

i've just returned from my second trip this week to a tibetan settlement three hours outside of mysore. penni, hiroko, alice and myself made the bumpy bus trip last saturday in pursuit of visiting the famous golden buddha and some inexpensive tibetan treasures. i've been on a personal quest since arriving in india to find four tibetan singing bowls after promising joung-ah, katherine, and vanessa that i would send them each one. these bowls are used in buddhist meditation where a pestle-like stick is brushed along the outside of the bowl til it starts vibrating or 'singing'. this type of bowl was used in the c.m teacher training to bring the group out of savasana (sleeping pose at the end)and it's a beautiful way to come out of deep relaxation.
while shopping in c.m with the 3 girls mentioned above, we came across the singing bowls which were outrageously priced. i suggested that we wait til i got to india where they would certainy be much cheaper and i am suprized to say they have been much more elusive to find than i thought. when i made the first trip to bylakuppe with the girls, we were a bit apprehensive as foreigners are not allowed onto the settlement without a permit. this permit comes from delhi and can take up to 3 months to receive. we had heard many stories of westerners going there with no problems so we decided to take our chances. after the bus trip, the rickshaw driver dumped us off at the gate of the golden temple into the harsh gaze of a tall indian police officer. he took one look at me and asked for my permit and passport, of which i had neither. while batting my baby blues with my most charming smile i explained that we were all yoga students who had travelled from all over the world to visit the golden buddha. couldn't he let us in for just a few minutes?
we were given 20 minutes with a promise to be back before his supervisor came around, which was promptly forgotten as soon as we entered the temples. after wondering around entranced by the beauty and chanting (pics to come soon), we made it back out about 90 minutes later. we tried to scoot by the police to make it to the shops across the street but that gaze spotted us instantly. the baby blues weren't working so well this time but stil managed to give us a bit of time to do some shopping. in the first shop, i inquired about the bowls and was brought a few doors down where my eyes lit up after seeig the bowls displayed on the counter. the beautiful tibetan woman working there had just got the bowl singing when alice came rushing into the store saying the police said we had to go - NOW. i was torn. i finally had the bowls right in front of me and they were beautiful but one look at the tibetan shop keepers faces told me i should take heed to alice's warning. the tibetans told me i better hurry or the police could cause 'big problems'. enough said and we were out of there, bowl-less.
i decided to make a second trip, alone this time, today. i thought perhaps if there was only one westerner, i might have a better chance of slipping by without notice. i had also heard the dalai lama was speaking and was intent on hearing some of his remarkable words. after running around with the rickshaw driver (who knew the word 'atm' is not universal!?) i managed to catch the bus to bylakuppe just as it was pulling out. i sat down in a free seat next to hip-looking indian guy who spoke english and gave me lots of helpful tips about where to get off the bus. as the bus trip went on, i thought back to when i first landed in bangalore terrified and marvelled at how quickly i have become comfortable in such a chaotic place. upon landing in bylakuppe once again, i had the requisite arguement with the rickshaw driver about price to the settlement. i had to walk off rather than be over-charged until he realized i wasn't going to cave and came and picked me up. he seemed very sly and nervous and kept asking me if i had my passport and permit. i was insisting yes, i did, and feeling guilty about my dishonesty. he snatched the money out of my hand and quickly sped off when we got to the police check point. i was nervous. would i go to jail over the dalai lama and a singing bowl?
this time around i barely even got a glance by the police. there were hundreds of tibetans milling around the temples as loud speakers were broadcasting the dalai lama's speech. i quickly found a spot with a group in a shady spot under a tree and sat down. now, sa i think i've mentioned, meditation is not something that has come easily to me. it's so hard to quiet my mind and stop all that 'planning, planning, planning'. oh, vata me! but for some reason, the urge to close my eyes and concentrate on the dalai lama's words was overwhelming. i couldn't understand anything he was saying as it wasn't in english but when his deep, melodic 'aum' came rumbling out of the speakers, i felt like i was in a trance. there were kids screaming all around me, families having pinics, yet i felt i was in the deepest, calmest meditation ever. it felt effortless despite the concrete beneath my body. i could have stayed for hours but i was constantly aware of the roaming police and thought it best to leave early.
at the gate, i met a indian-born tibetan man and his infant son. i asked him where i could buy the singing bowls and he told me all the shops would be closed for the next few hours while the shopkeepers were at the temples. he brought me into town, known as camp 1, where i had a drink and waited around to see if the shops wuold open or not.
alas, an hour later, a man came over to ask me what i was looking for and explained that the shops wouldn't re-open to day and to come back tomorrow. sigh. i don't think i'll be able to make the trip before i leave to goa on sunday so i'll keep my fingers crossed i come across them there.

ps- i'm practically falling asleep writing this so i apologize for the errors and rambling sentences.

egos and icons

i've received a lot of love and supportive emails recently in responce to my second last post. when my mother's message said i sounded depressed and sick, i was a little embarassed at revealing my emotions so openly. while i was writing that post, i was speaking directly from my head and heart, trying to sort some things out. i was also having a bad day.
after taking some time to ponder my my thoughts and feelings, i came to a few realizations. as i've stated previously, this trip was me seeking yogic education and guidance on my spiritual path. the time i spent in the teacher training course in c.m was everything i was seeking and fabulously rewarding. when i continued on to india, i somehow thought that just by being in this country, the birthing ground of yoga, i would magically and effortlessly be transported to enlightenment. after attending several yoga classes in mysore, it's apparent that yoga is a big money business and the passion of yoga is coming from the students who have travelled around the world to be here, not from the rich teachers. i've also found it difficult to go from one style of teaching to something completely contradictory and its created a feeling of unrest in me.
another big realization was the suffering my ego was creating in me. i had built this image of myself of what i would be like at this point in my life. i thought that after all the yogic teaching i had received, i would have been transformed into the perfect yoga goddess; effortlessly maintaining deep, calm breathing....while in a handstand..with 5% body fat. when my body began to break down and lose its strength, i felt angry and resentful towards myself for not living up to be as good as i thought i should be. what kind of yoga teacher was i going to be if i wasn't able to perform 'perfectasana'?
today while in the city circle waiting outside an atm booth, an elderly indian man asked me how i felt about india and how my spirit felt about india. i told him i was torn between love and frustration. when he pressed me for thoughts, i told him how a typical conversation will go with an indian person.

me: 'do the chillies come on the naan bread or are they on the side?'
indian: 'yes, madam.'
me: 'so they are on the bread?'
indian: 'thats right.'
me: 'do they come on the side?'
indian: 'you are correct, madam!'

this conversation can go on for hours but i usually give up and hope the best. whats been hardest for me to deal with is the disrespect from the indian men, unless i'm wearing my dollar signs halo. i've been poked, fondled and pushed out of a waiting line like i wasn't even there, which can all be excruciatingly frustrating. yet then something will happen that causes me to smile again, like the man in the bookstore today. i went to pick up a book i had ordered (rumi's poetry - amazing!) and found that i didn't have enough money to pay for the book and catch a rickshaw home. 'take the book and pay me when you when you come back', the shop owner said. he then invited me to take part in the families friday evening puja, allowed me to pass my hands through the flames for good luck and gave me a banana and a book on tantra. i was stunned. the contrasts of this vast country is what makes up the beauty around and i am blessed to be part of it.

happy birthday punchy

to my yang...
i send you many birthday wishes across the oceans between us.
i hope for today, and all your days to come, to be filled with love.
may you be happy,
may you be healthy,
may you live in peace,
may you live with ease....
i look forward to seeing your smile again.
xoxo

missing my yang and greens

2nd optional title; yoga'd out
3rd optional title; my yoga practice is falling apart so i ate half a loaf of bread
4th optional title; ok, it was the whole loaf

something strange is going on with me, beyond the constant rumbling in my lower belly. for the past three days, my yoga practice has consistently gotten worse and worse, my body weaker and weaker, and my thoughts angrier and angrier. i don't understand where this anger is coming from. life in mysore is almost perfect, really. tons of yoga around, great food, interesting things and people to look at, a kitchen to cook in and cheap internet. so why do i feel angry when i go to yoga class, like i want to stop my foot and say 'i don't wanna do it!'?
i thought it was because style of class i had been attending; ashtanga with very firm adjustments. when i started to dread the teacher coming over to touch me, i knew it was time to find another option. on the praise of alice, i went to see her teacher, bharath, who is teaching yoga classes influenced by iyengar and sivananda. when i chatted with him, he spoke of alignment with awareness throughout the asanas, the first time i've heard those words since thailand and i was sold. my stomach seems to have settled into a regular purging schedule; 4 am - 8am and then again about 6 pm - 8 pm, allowing me just enough time to get a class in and some lunch. when i arrived at 8 am this morning, there were only two other students. bharath starts you off with his 'foundation' course, meaning you start from the basics, the sun salutations. he broke down the movements for me into steps and had me repeat them 12 times. then we moved into some easy standing postures and again held them for 9 breaths. what a difference from the fast-paced ashtanga i have been doing. i actually found it just as challenging. my body wanted to come out of the pose at breath 8 but i made myself stay til 12. thats when i started to feel angry. not at anything or anyone specific but like i wanted to stomp out of there, go home to pack my bag and get out of mysore and all it's yoga, yoga, yoga. has this ever happened to anyone else out there?
i can't decide if i'm feeling this way because i've been sick, i'm missing greg, my friends and family or if i need a break from yoga. i told myself when i came on this trip that i would absorb as much yogic teaching as i could, even when i didn't want to, as i would regret it if i didn't when i return to korea where there are no yoga classes for me. i'll continue on with bharath in the mornings and try to explore these feelings a bit further to see if i can trace some meaning behind them. ...loving kindness (finger pointed at me)....loving kindness....