oops link!

forgot to add link for the pics in last message:

http://leo.lecastelas.be

Me and my friend Ewa.

Since we met in august 2006 on the "Summer school of spoken Sanskrit", Ewa and me had a relation (partly long distance) for about 6 months. We kept in contact and met eachother in Kerala, travelled to Delhi together (see corresponding posts in september-october-november). She is Polish, from Warsaw.
Now she had vacation from her dance courses (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bharatanatyam) in Kalamandalam, the now "Deemed University" for traditional arts, and we decided to travel to the high north together. I left the ashram and met her in Delhi. The following days we visited Chandigarh (city designed by Le Corbusier with an intriguing history), Dharamsala (abode of the Dalai Lama), we proceeded to Jammu and Srinagar, Kashmir. Out of a lack of time she left for Delhi and I proceeded to Ladakh. After a fabulous time there I am in Vashisht, Manali now. In Between I visited a Tibetan youth camp with an English-Israeli friend Alex for a few days, where we used our youth group experience.
There are interesting stories about my time in Srinagar and Ladakh, they might come later. Now it is time to chill in Manali.
Cheers dears xxx

A baba on a motorbike.

Radhebaba is a special guy. He is a baba, which means he has renounced the world and lives as an ascetic, but at the same time he does great effort to do ecological agriculture in his home village in Moradabad district, an untouristic and uneducated region in Uttar Pradesh. In his twenties he decided to renounce the world and he stayed in Pushkar, Rajasthan for a long time, dealing with tourists/travelers teaching them Yoga. About the hinduistic Maya-concept (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maya_%28illusion%29), he says that he doesn't claim to see through the illusion (as some other ascetics would claim), but accepts himself and everything we see in the world as a part of it. But he doesn't sit back and watches the illusion revolving all the time! He decided to go back to his birthplace to create consciousness about ecological agriculture, and there is a plan of building a small school in an attempt to give an impulse to education in the region. There are schools, but the pupils are not taught to think independently, and a lot of what they learn is "parrot work". The ashram school would be a place where not only books, but also handicrafts are taught.
When me and Nimrod, a French-Israeli friend, arrived to Moradabad from Delhi by train in april, I noticed that my backpack was gone. In light panic I ran up and down the compartment 5 times, sniffling under and peeking over the train berths, filled with good Indian families. Nothing ofcourse, the bag had long gone. It was put above my head (for those of you who know the famous Indian SL, sleeper class) on the upper berth. I read and slept a bit during the ride. Nimrod had fallen asleep on the facing upper berth. A man was sleeping on that bench when I saw the backpack was not there. He hadn't seen anything. But another man had been lying there before. Anyhow, no one had seen anything. Answering a man who told me I should have watched the bag more carefully Nimrod told him agitated that no Indian loses his bag in such way(?), even if they put it up there. It was gone. Without to much hope we started explaining someone who asked what had happened, in front of the railway police station. In a matter of seconds 10 people had gathered around us. I didn't like that and went into the police office and told the sitting officer in Hindi that my bag was stolen. He asked me to sit (the ever Indian gesture which drives me insane in these situations), and when I -standing- continued explaining what had happened, a bunch of journalists(?) came in. With a notepad in my face, a camera and video camera in near proximity, and a police officer who started laughing, I freaked out. How could the man, who is always there for the people, start laughing with my problem in stead of taking it seriously? In full anger I shouted at him and ran out through the flock of horny news folk. One of them caught my anger in his little snapping box, the bastard. I ridiculed him; I took a chair and invited him to sit. Then I went off to the station master where I found solace. People took me serious, gave me a double folded paper with the thin blue stencil in between and I could start writing my own(!!!) report. I described the bag and summed up what it contained: a digital camera, flight tickets and a bunch of books. Luckily I had all the important documents and money with me in a smaller bag!!! My clear writing kind of knew that the bag wouldn't come back, but was followed by their curious eyes. Especially the list of contents impressed them, but the most asked question was if there was a lot of money in the bag. Luckily I don't carry backpacks stuffed with dollars when I am traveling...
We took the connecting train to our destination, helped by a great chap and some police officers who showed us a seat in the train (we didn't have the time to buy a ticket). Free ride thanks to the stolen bag... joy(yes, ironically meant). When we arrived it was dusk. Radhebaba, in white cloth on black Hero-Honda 'Pulsar' motorbike, told us there are bag stealing gangs operative on the Delhi-Varanasi line.
Unfortunately, there was not much work on the fields in that period, so days consisted mostly of sitting in the small brick building, receiving high guests, red glowing sapphirs in their crown revolving in mist... In the evening the nice old men of the village come to enjoy the milky sky. With these old men I felt completely comfortable. Harmless, without hidden agenda towards me, wondering why there is no roti (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roti) or mango in my country and laughing together about my Hindi. We regularly hopped on the motorbike to go to town, I even learned some driving. In town, even places to 60 km or more away from the ashram, people remebered the small article about the Belgian writer whose bag got stolen on the train, published in two newspapers. I had written many books, including "Lonely Planet 2007" and came here to study about Indian culture and handicrafts, which would be the theme of my next book. Even two weeks later this remained one of the first questions when Radhe and me would sit in one or another shop, sipping chai with the shopowner and random visitors, from clay tumblers which are to be thrown to pieces when empty, carefully aimed from the shop through the open street, between the wheels of motorbikes and cyclerikshaws, children's bare running feet and a cow enjoying another piece of juicy cardboard in peaceful satisfaction. The bigger splinters are crumbled to dust by the passing vehicles.
It's about time Radhe pays a visit to Belgium. Bruno is a few years older than me, also comes from Tienen and has completed his MA of Indology in Ghent. Radhe and Bruno have built up the whole ashram together (yatharthyogashram.org). Radhe has been applying for a passport for 2.5 years now refusing to give more money than officially asked for. It tells us a lot about the omnipresent delay and corruption in Indian administration.

PICSSSSSSSSSSS

Go and have a look at the new pics(although unselected and only of a part of the trip)...
jaldii jaldii!! quickly quickly!!!

New number

Hello!!!

since a few weeks I have a new number: 00919917138897

I'm in Kashmir for the moment, there's no network for IDEA (the phone company), so you'll have to wait until I came out of Ladakh(about 2 max 3 weeks) before you can reach me on this number. Looking forward to hear you! ;-)

Sizzling through World Heritage.

Since I am in Delhi I visit the internet almost daily. I like to listen to Bach on You tube and chat with friends on MSN Messenger. It is extremely hot in Delhi, around 11-12 am the heat sends us to cooler places till the late afternoon. When I was in Pune, Anke told me she was quite sick, it didn't get any better and she wanted to go home with her parents. So I took the time to travel between Mumbai and Delhi. I saw the palaces in Mandu and Orchha, the 10.000 year old murals in Bhimbetka, the great Stupa of Sanchi and the breathtaking Khajuraho temples, famous for its sculptures, of which some are pornographic (there is even man fucking a horse... great world heritage!). In Bhopal, which is near to both Sanchi and Bhimbetka, and which has an exceptional high Muslim population (40%) in comparison to other Indian cities, I was roaming through the evening of the buzzing Muslim alleys. Carpenters, vegetable sellers, bakeries and lassi stands; bikes, cycles and clothing shops. Although these alleys are very narrow and filled with moving people (like Old Delhi), I felt very comfortable; shopkeepers were not annoying me in inviting me loudly into their shops, even if I'd not show any interest nor give them a glance. I felt less observed. In that same sense I don't feel comfortable in a restaurant where the waiter will literally 'wait'. He stands facing me after serving the meal, interpreting every upward glance as an order... I want to have the feeling I can eat without someone watching my plate and with the freedom to do the pondering stare while chewing on some delicious eatables :-D. Ofcourse, that feeling is partly in my own hands as well. Anyway, in Bhopal I saw Lucky sitting in one of those alleyshops (Indians with long hair attract the attention), we nodded to each other. 2 mosques and 3 bazaars later he was sitting in a 'sugar cane juice stall' and we introduced ourselves. He is lucky, because he survived the loss of his father, a truck driving over him, a drug-rumor-failed arrangement of an arranged marriage, which he restored by marrying an American lady through an e-romance! He is one lucky chap! Tall, good looks, self-confident and dressed in smart clothing. We had a nice talk, he showed me around a bit on his motorbike and we met again. I planned to go to Khajuraho. He informed a friend of his there about my plan and told him to take good care of me. When I got down in Khajuraho after a long bus ride, I was -as usual- ignoring all the commission boys looking through as if they didn't exist. I took my bags and told Masood on the phone that Lucky's friend had arrived, surrounded by the commission boys who were puzzled by my weird Hindi and stubbornness to ignore all their questions and remarks. One of the young boy's name was Lucky, and he ensured it showing the white of his right forearm where a clumsy 'lucky' was written. The circle followed my to the sidewalk where I sat down, still ignoring their most certain acquaintance with Masood. When he arrived I walked towards him with a broad smile. Masood is a Kashmiri from a Pashmina shawl making family in Srinagar. He is one of the many who open shops in the touristic areas to sell their precious goods. I've always known Muslim, and especially Kashmiris as warm and extremely friendly; qualities which make them excellent sellers. He only arrived in Khajuraho 4 months ago but did a great job fighting for his place on the market. In four months he had more friends than any of the other Pashmina sellers. I was actually ignoring his commission boys at the bus stand. He was hospital, he gave me a bed and food without any further questions, and I had the chance to experience the tourist business from within, it gave me a whole new view. I had a great time there, and the boys were ever optimistic, even though circumstances were not always the best... to give an example: it almost hasn't rained in that region for the last three years. After 5 days between tourists, sculptures and shopkeepers, I left for Delhi together with Masood. He went home after a long time. The love marriage his parents forbid him kept away for years. He doesn't like staying home for too long because the matter will surely spoil the atmosphere. We arrived early in the morning in Delhi, drinking a few teas, pestered by mosquitoes and high-priced rickshaw fares. On his way to the airport I got out of the auto and we parted. Since then I saw some monuments I had not seen on my previous trip (Delhi is packed with great monuments), spent three days looking for a returned parcel i badly needed (luckily I found it; it contained the books for my examinations in September) and watched some bad and good theater. I stay with Noopur, a girl I met via Max last time in Delhi. She had birthday a few days ago and it was a small but great party, I met some great people. Some of them study in the National School of Drama, of which I had met teacher that same day whom I knew from the school in Tamil Nadu, where he had kindly attended the family day. So I'm very happy to be in contact with these people, in this way I get an all-round experience of theater in India (long live generalizations!). Noopur herself works in an art gallery, her roommate Nikhil (a Maharashtrian, as Noopur is) is a designer and Shalini, a Malayali from Trivandrum, will take me to a slum today. I am reading 'Shantaram' (http://www.shantaram.com/), that explains the interest partly. In a few days I will leave for this place: yatharthyogashram.org (Don't open on Mozilla Firefox, the text will not show!).

chachacha, what has all happened over the last month? For the moment I am staying in Mumbai at Viveks nephews place, he is an young upcoming actor here. Mathis and Jeroen left 3 days ago, it hurt. We had a lot of fun together for 25 days, and now I was "alone" again. We left from Mumbai, visited Goa, Hampi, Bangalore, Mysore, I showed them where I had been in Kerala, we went to the amazingly beautiful hill station of Ooty, visited the school in Kanchipuram, went to Mahabalipuram, Chennai, back to Mumbai and Ellora, and they returned to Belgium! We saw mountain and sea, old stones and buzzing cities, rain, sun, hot and cold, a variety of indians, tourists and albinos, we played poker, drank, joked and laughed. It was great. Although we were three we never really had problems between each other.

In a day or so I will be heading for Puna to visit the city, a Hindi teacher there and the famous Osho Ashram! After that I will meet Anke somewhere in Rajasthan or in Delhi and from there we will probably go to Kashmir. Then I will be very grateful to be able to settle for about two months to study Hindi. Options are Puna, Varanasi, somewhere in the mountains,... My parents, sister and Sarah, an Italian exchange student living in my family for a year will come in the end of June and we will travel around together till the end of July.

The last days I spent strolling around in the wide streets of the touristic south of Mumbai, it is filled with tall buildings, some are beautiful and others less. Then even more time I spent in cinema halls, watching Bolly and Holly. I saw an "experimental" play in English and played Football on Vineet's PS2,... isn't that something?

I feel allright, somewhat homesick again, still fattening, but especially looking forward to the two months I will be spending to study Hindi. I look forward to have a home, even if it is only temporarily.