Saturday, February 14, 2009
1 Jan 2009 - Houston, en route. It's starting to sink in, after 2 hours of fitful sleep last night and existing in a sort of surreal stupor for the last 24 hours.
Dubai, en route. 7 hour layover, egad! This airport ranks right on up there with the Singapore airport as one of my favorites, in no small part because they have a Cinnabon with a pimped-out menu. Mini chocobon, anyone? Easily the world's most tamasic food ("impure, causing inertia, laziness, stagnation"), so naturally a common occurence in my own diet.
But mostly, airports are the best place to people-watch. The setting makes me look at people in a different way - where are they going? Why? That dude has an LSAT study guide. That chick is crying. What's their story?
The Dubai airport makes me feel cosmopolitan and stupidly sheltered at the same time. One of my favorite images is a crowd of men in full, crisp, beautifully white Arab dress making a run on the Dunkin' Donuts. I consider whipping out my camera for that, but think better of it (and now, I'm reconsidering that decision because, I mean, how awesome would that be, recorded for posterity?). Another thing that strikes me are Muslim women. Head to-toe black, with only a flash of eyes and the smallest enticing sliver of fair skin. But the details reveal everything you need to know: a regal sort of walk, the most exquisite embroidery along sleeves and hems...but you have to look carefully, you know, it's all in black..., Prada handbags, flawless pedicures on delicate toes. I feel suddenly like a small thing in an infinite universe, as curious as a child, ready to set out on a great adventure...
3 Jan 2009 - In Trivandrum, our home in India and my only stop en route to the ashram.
Deboarding the plane, I spy a petite girl carrying nothing but a yoga mat. Surely, this is not a coincidence. "Excuse me. Are you headed to Neyyar Dam?" And this would be the beginning of a friendship that was one of the handful to sustain me over the next four weeks. My brother-in-law met us at the airport to bring Mary and myself home for a decidedly non-vegetarian, non-sattvic meal (to be our last for a while), a quick nap and then off to our next month's home.
We leave on the 45-minute car ride to Sivananda Yoga Vendanta Dhanwantari Ashram that afternoon. The pictures didn't lie, it's beautiful. But heading to reception, I realize that I'm conspicuous by my....serious amount of luggage. Two full suitcases, to be exact (but seriously, one was a carry-on, okay?). Nonetheless, I'm excited, I feel embraced. I'm given my dorm assignment, bed linens, and mosquito net.
Dubai, en route. 7 hour layover, egad! This airport ranks right on up there with the Singapore airport as one of my favorites, in no small part because they have a Cinnabon with a pimped-out menu. Mini chocobon, anyone? Easily the world's most tamasic food ("impure, causing inertia, laziness, stagnation"), so naturally a common occurence in my own diet.
But mostly, airports are the best place to people-watch. The setting makes me look at people in a different way - where are they going? Why? That dude has an LSAT study guide. That chick is crying. What's their story?
The Dubai airport makes me feel cosmopolitan and stupidly sheltered at the same time. One of my favorite images is a crowd of men in full, crisp, beautifully white Arab dress making a run on the Dunkin' Donuts. I consider whipping out my camera for that, but think better of it (and now, I'm reconsidering that decision because, I mean, how awesome would that be, recorded for posterity?). Another thing that strikes me are Muslim women. Head to-toe black, with only a flash of eyes and the smallest enticing sliver of fair skin. But the details reveal everything you need to know: a regal sort of walk, the most exquisite embroidery along sleeves and hems...but you have to look carefully, you know, it's all in black..., Prada handbags, flawless pedicures on delicate toes. I feel suddenly like a small thing in an infinite universe, as curious as a child, ready to set out on a great adventure...
3 Jan 2009 - In Trivandrum, our home in India and my only stop en route to the ashram.
Deboarding the plane, I spy a petite girl carrying nothing but a yoga mat. Surely, this is not a coincidence. "Excuse me. Are you headed to Neyyar Dam?" And this would be the beginning of a friendship that was one of the handful to sustain me over the next four weeks. My brother-in-law met us at the airport to bring Mary and myself home for a decidedly non-vegetarian, non-sattvic meal (to be our last for a while), a quick nap and then off to our next month's home.
We leave on the 45-minute car ride to Sivananda Yoga Vendanta Dhanwantari Ashram that afternoon. The pictures didn't lie, it's beautiful. But heading to reception, I realize that I'm conspicuous by my....serious amount of luggage. Two full suitcases, to be exact (but seriously, one was a carry-on, okay?). Nonetheless, I'm excited, I feel embraced. I'm given my dorm assignment, bed linens, and mosquito net.
6pm is a silent dinner consisting of watery sambar (a spicy sort of vegetable soup that, before this little adventure, was one of my favorite foods to both cook and eat. Now, subtract one thing from my already very limited culinary repertoire), chapati, and a simple vegetable salad that left a good bit to be desired. This would vary little over the next month (the menu, but definitely not the noise level - that would change to a decidedly large degree).
Afterward, satsang at 8pm (meditation, kirtan and aarati), people continue to arrive throughout the night, and it's lights out at 10:30pm. I go to bed a little worn, but heart and mind wide open.
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1 comments:
Hi Leila honey!! I love this! I look forward to reading more... if you can put such an ineffable experience into mere words.
Thank you eternally for being my friend.
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