November 24th, 2011, Varanasi, India

Today the air was amazingly clear and uncharacteristically fresh and pleasant to breathe. Tonight the air is still clear and there are more stars out than ever before during my time in India. Today was a good day. Today was thanksgiving.

My thanksgiving started with the desire to eat pizza. I asked Alex to join me for dinner in a favorite restaurant of mine in Varanasi; Ashish Cafe. Alex reminded me that it was thanksgiving and remarked that pizza was about the closest thing to American chow we could get here in Varanasi.
We set out in the festive spirit and got a cushion inside Ashish. After inspecting the menu we found out we could order mashed potatoes and creamy mushroom soup. Mix the two and BAM! mashed potatoes and gravy. With excitement at our cleverness we ordered our two dishes as well as a pizza.
The meal was spot on. The taste/texture of mashed potatoes and gravy transported me back stateside. I wasn't sitting on the floor of a small restaurant halfway around the world wearing only shorts and a t-shirt anymore. No, I was wearing a toasty wool sweater sitting at a beautiful table somewhere in the good ol' U.S. of A. about to dive into some turkey and cranberry relish while cold rain spit at the windows and a log popped on the open fire.
As we ate a crew of our friends from our guest house showed up and joined us in the cafe. They sat in such a way that we formed a long table and the feeling of thanksgiving grew more lucid. We talked about thanksgiving and American food and a friend mentioned that he had had apple pie at a nearby restaurant. Alex and I had paid and were out the door on a mission for a couple of golden slices of heaven before our pal had finished the word restaurant.
It turned out we weren't alone in our quest; several of our American cohorts in Varanasi were there as well for their taste of Old Glory.
Our pie slices came out-of-the-oven warm and fresh with heaping scoops of vanilla ice cream sitting proudly on top and melting down the sides of the apply treat. I was awestruck to say the least. My first bite filled my mouth with warm apple filling, buttery crust, and the delicate contrast of cold vanilla cream. Again, as the taste of America exploded across my palette, I was dragged by my tongue into a world of itchy sweaters, loosened belts, icy rain and warm, crackling fireplaces.
The feeling wasn't totally homesickness, nor was it entirely nostalgic. But a lot of pride mixed with a sense of accomplishment and coated with copious amounts of gratitude and bliss.
I had found the essence of thanksgiving halfway around the world and my belly and soul were satisfied.

Giving Thanks

In the spirit of Thanksgiving I want to do a blog post detailing many (but not all) of the things I'm grateful for in my life at the moment. If I were to list ALL the things I'm grateful for, we'd both be here for hours on end.
I am thankful for my family. I love my family more than anything in the whole universe and I know that they love me.
My parents: because when I talk to them things tend to make a lot more sense. because they know me better than anyone in the entire world and I love them like rocks.
My Mom for her support and love. for instilling in me the importance of being a gentleman and a scholar.
My Dad for always having a bit of wisdom, a lesson, and love to share. for teaching me to take my time.
My Brother for being the one person I wouldn't hesitate to give my life for.
My Dog for always accepting any ridiculously lavish amount of love I bestow on him.
Barb Small for teaching me more about death (and therefore giving me a priceless perspective on life) than anyone else ever could. I'll also note that the money I got from Barb is making my trip in India possible.
Ashland for raising me and teaching me about community.
Oregon for having mountains and rivers and forests and towns that are my homes.
The U.S.A. for bestowing upon me immense privilege and responsibility and many positive aspects of the American Way.
The internet for connecting the world.
The earth for letting me explore it.
My senses/mind/language for letting me perceive and contemplate things and interpret the world.
Pens and notebooks for holding words and remembering my thoughts for me.
Good books for imparting new thoughts and ideas through words and stating these thoughts better than I could.
Music for letting me think without words.
Portland, Lewis and Clark College, eNRG, motorcycles, ceramics, kayaking, snowboarding, sailing, scuba diving, kite boarding, etc. etc. etc. for all being things I'm looking forward to in one way or another.
India for being Full On and Varanasi for being Full Power. for being more (intellectually, emotionally, spiritually, physically, etc.) stimulating than anywhere I have ever been. for being in your face and unapologetic. for being conducive to growth, exploration, and introspection. for making you feel the full weight of humanity and the human condition. for reaching for things beyond the bonds of this physical existence. for inspiring me to build community and see more of the world and make it a better place.
And last but not least I'm thankful for you for reading my blog. ;)

November 5th, 2011. Muna Guest House, Varanasi, India

I'm sitting, lounging rather, in my hammock. My hammock is green and tan, and quite large. The folds of it's synthetic silk envelope it's user like a cocoon envelopes a juvenile butterfly. My hammock is the most comfortable piece of furniture (?) I have ever reclined in.
The only clothing I have on is a traditional Indian Longi. A very light cotton 7 foot by 4 foot piece of white cloth that is worn wrapped around the waist like a long man-skirt. The longi is very comfortable, especially on hot Indian days, and is therefore well suited for the Indian environment. It's design is also conducive to the use of squat-toilets. No more details on that, except that squatting makes far more sense than traditional western bodily waste disposal systems.
I digress.
My hammock is hung between a concrete pillar on one side, and on the other is attached to two sketchy hooks drilled into the concrete wall of the rundown Muna Guest House. On the wall next to my hammock's anchor is a mural of the Hindu deity Saraswati. The elegant Goddess is equipped with a sitar and is seated on a white lotus flower accompanied by a swan and peacock. The wall the mural is painted on makes one side of a three sided terrace, with one face open to the mighty Ganga (Ganges) river which lazily flows some eleven stories below. In my nest I'm positioned so that I look out over the giant body of water across to it's eastern shore. The eastern riverside is a flood plain that's inundated regularly enough to keep encroaching development at bay. Thus the ancient, maze-like city of Varanasi (a.k.a. Banaras, Kashi, etc. etc. etc.) is reflected in the Ganga and it's crowded ghats are contrasted on the opposite river bank by kilometers of empty plains of gray sand.
The only movement in the plains now is a horseman riding north, racing the Ganga down it's banks, leaving only a trail of dust in the sky.

Pics #1

Here are the highlights of the pictures I've taken in India (and London) so far.

The Pink City

Jaipur was another sight seeing blitz, Indian style. I saw:
The Albert Hall Museum- A museum full of artifacts from all over the world, including a few thousand year old Egyptian mummy, beautiful Hungarian pottery, Indian art from every part of the country, and many, many, many other fascinating things to behold.
The Wind Palace- Classic Jaipur. The Wind Palace is a big, pink beehive looking building.
City Palace- The throne of kings! A royal place to say the least. The throne room was magnificent, the costumes on display were regal, and the whole place inspired majesty.
Jantar Mantar- One of my favorite stops. Jantar Mantar is an ancient celestial observatory. It’s basically a beautiful park full of giant sculptures. Well, these sculptures where actually used to measure the distances between planets, the paths of celestial bodies, and the like.
Water Palace- The water palace is a beautiful palace that seemingly floats out in the middle of a big lake. You can’t go out to it, but viewing it from afar is magic. I also saw many camels and elephants at this stop.
Amber Fort- The Amber Fort is HUGE! It’s an ancient fort built on top of a hill, surrounded by miles of wall reminiscent of the Great Wall of China. The whole thing is perched above a lake with gardens all around. The inside of the fort is like a maze. It’s wild; there are tons of small rooms leading to big rooms. Tight, steep staircases lead to wide open verandas. Claustrophobic passageways lead to manicured courtyards.
Ganesh Temple- A modest temple sitting high above Jaipur affording good views of the Pink City.
Monkey Temple- A quiet yet popular temple nestled between hills. Absolutely teeming with monkeys!

City on the Thames

After an express train ride out of Heathrow I found myself breathing cool, damp air and staring up at the arched ceilings of London’s Paddington Station.
My jaunt in London was a non-stop sight-seeing blitz.
Here’s a list:
Big Ben- Big Ben consumed my field of vision as I ascended out of the dank London Underground station, Westminster. This landmark was Numero Uno on my list.
Parliament
Eye of London- This ferris wheel was MUCH BIGGER than I had expected.
Trafalgar Square- I saw the nice fountains, and the countdown clock to the London Olympics. Walking there I also passed the Sherlock Homes Inn and Pub.
Calvary Guard- Classic English guards mounted on beastly steeds.
Scotland Yard- Elementary my dear Watson.
St. James’ Park- All sorts of English waterfowl and beautiful greenery.
Buckingham Palace- Her Majesty’s palace. Saw the classic guys with big hats and red coats from a distance only…
Westminster Abbey- Big, Old, Beautiful.

London folk are well dressed.
London is very expensive.

The Gypsies

I have to share this. This is a recounting of a classic experience I had on my way home from Eugene after picking up my motorcycle at my uncle Eric's house.

I met the Gypsies the night I stayed at Black Canyon campground. I had bunked down in an abandoned campsite and by 7 o clock was unable to see my hand in front of my face. I'm accustomed to going to sleep around midnight and therefore found myself entering what I thought would be the longest, darkest, loneliest night of my life. Frankly, I was a little scared and a lot uncomfortable. It was too dark for me to keep riding safely so my options were limited. Pulling through seemed best, so I hunkered down and pulled out my notebook. "I'll write the night away!"
No more than 20 min. went by and I was just wasting trees. All of a sudden a red light started bobbing off in the pitch black of the forest night. It was coming my way. I switched off my own white L.E.D. in an attempt to hid in the darkness, fearing a park ranger was after me with an "illegitimate camping site" ticket. I quickly turned my headlamp back on after realizing the red light had obviously already seen my bright beacon of criminal mischief. I changed tactics from hiding to pleading. "I'll get the first words in." I thought, "and make a good case for myself. I'm a nice guy and mean no harm. He'll let me go."
"You bunked down here in the dark?" The red light drew first blood, so much for my plan. Time to beg forgiveness from the stiff hand of the law.
"Yes, but..." I responded modestly.
"Is that your motorcycle parked near the locked gate?" The light demanded.
"Yes it is, sir." Was my staccato response.
"I didn't get a good look at it."-Light
"Whew."-Me
"But is that a Honda?"-Light
"Yeess...(?)"-Me, confused.
"CB750?"-Light
"Yes."-Me, things are looking up.
"What year?"-Light
"'82."-Me, if this guy likes motorcycles I'm saved.
"No SHIT!"-Light
"(!)"-Me, eyebrows raising.
Light-"I had a '72!"
Me-"Don't think they changed 'em much in those ten years!"
Light-"The name's Butch. Why don't you come outta the dark and come grab a cold one in muh ARVEE. Meet the wifey."

The rest of the night was spent drinking Busch and listening to stories (accompanied by literally hundreds of pictures) of RV campgrounds and motorcycle rallies.
I slept great in my hammock, and woke up to a freshly brewed cup of the finest joe ever served in an RV.

Lessons about following my heart.

There have been two incidents in which I have learned great lessons about following my heart.
The first is a success story, the second, a misadventure.

I discovered High Rock by following my heart. It was after my night spent at Fish Creek in the Clackamas River drainage outside of Portland. I had gone on that trip looking for the feeling of being in the mountains on top of a peak with majestic views and sun and all that. If you've been on a rocky exposed peak in the Pac West then you might know the feeling. I hadn't found that essence of exposed wilderness I was looking for near the creek. I left my cozy site near the creek and hopped on my bobber heading east; up into the mountains. I felt my heart pulling me towards something, I knew what it was; however, I doubted that I would actually find it. I was afraid I would ride for hours, run out of gas, and be stranded in some lame forest hours away from Portland. I almost turned around a few times, but persevered. My determination and blind faith paid off. Soon I came around a corner and found myself at High Rock; a modest peak with majestic views of Mt. Hood, Helen's, Adams, Rainier, and other peaks to the southeast. One could also make out the vast deserts of eastern Oregon burning on the horizon in the white-hot summer sun. A truly spectacular place, all the more exciting because it was exactly what I was looking for and I had found it by following that ticker in my chest. My heart was satisfied and so was I.

Fast forward to Indira Gandhi international airport in New Delhi, India. I had met three travelers on the flight from London who were also bound for India. All were from California and two had been on my previous flight from San Francisco to London. We met up at baggage claim and talked about where we were all going. The three of them, coincidentally, were headed to Vrindivan. They would split cab fare and have a jolly time bumping down the Indian highway. I was invited. My heart was beating in my ears. These were my first moments in India and my heart screaming at me to make a decision. Full on. I declined the offer to join my friends and opted instead to go to the hotel I had arranged over the internet back in Ashland. I'll tell you now I knew that was a mistake. I just knew it, my heart knew it. I knew instantly after I saw my friends get in their cab and drive away that I had made the wrong choice by staying. Hands shaking I looked for my arranged pick-up. No luck. I called the hotel, "Sorry Mr. Small," the heavily Indian accent laden voice on the other end informed me, "Your reservation was cancelled due to overbooking. You can't stay here tonight, but may I book you for tomorrow?"
With no place to stay for the night I went over to the tourism office and was booked a sketchy hotel in the Pahar Ganj district of New Delhi. It's the busiest, dirtiest district in New Delhi and my stay there prompted my swift departure from the Indian metropolis.

October 22nd, 2011

With four days left in the states I wrote the following:
I find myself in no hurry to leave. I'm letting things happen very slowly, organically. I'm not getting anxious, which, I think, is a good thing. That's not to say I'm not excited; I am, just not terribly so. On one hand I feel I should be putting more thought and effort into my trip. I feel as if this experience deserves every ounce of effort my being possesses. On the other hand, I want to be an empty canvas on which India may paint her most colorful and vibrant portrait; abstract and mind bending as it may be.

After being in India and travelling here for just over a week, I'm glad to say I arrived a blank canvas and that India's brush strokes are marking me more and more with the passing of each and every moment I spend here.

Dear reader, you are not forgotten.

I've been on the road since my last post, staying in one place no longer than a night. But now I am settled in Varanasi, India and will have time to update this here blog.
Here's a quick list of where I've been and what I'll write about:
London-Travelling is fun, but what was the London experience?
New Delhi-Arrival Shock
Jaipur-When all else fails, get the heck out of dodge! And explore Jaipur!
Agra-The most beautiful building in the world, along with a new friend.
Train to Varanasi:; Varanasi; and an old friend with new tricks.