A lot of people and bumpy roads

As I board a bus that supposedly takes 13 hours to get from McCloud Ganj to Delhi, I initially get my hopes up that I might have a little arm room... ...as if. The madness of the government bus would never allow such a thing. 

As we speed through the mountains in the dark of night, the bus stops anywhere and everywhere there might be a person who wants a ride to somewhere between here and Delhi. Although I would hardly call it "stopping". The bus slowly rolls while people frantically try to throw bags into the bus while holding on for dear life, and finally pull themselves in, before the bus speeds away. 

As 7pm becomes 8, becomes 9, the mountain air gets colder and colder. I in turn become more and more appreciative of the Indian man who is crammed against me and sleeping on my shoulder. Bags, people, children, and anything else you can think of get piled on and around everything and everyone. 

The incredible vibrations of the bus racing over pothole filled, half paved roads is initially a nice massage. 15 hours later, some smoke, pounding and bits of random material stuffed into the engine, a few screeching stops, an array of interesting smells, being physically launched out of my seat a few times, and a sunrise later, the massage therapy was more than I needed. 

I stumble off the bus, and before I know it, I hear "Jaipur, Jaipur, Jaipur" slowly rolling by me. This being my ultimate destination, I chase after the bus, jump on, squeeze past a few people and take a new seat. I am ready to be a pillow or of whatever I may become, once more. 

20 hours of buses later, my bruised butt, and achy and smelly body are ready for a bucket of water to bathe in and a bed to rest on. For $4 this dream comes true. Alone in a small, cement walled room, with a squatting toilet to myself, something doesn't seem right. Shouldn't I be sharing this space with a few more people? 

The Dalai Lama and his entourage

An overheard whisper at breakfast gives me the idea that the Dalai Lama has come back to McCloud Ganj to make a quick appearance and speech before journeying to Delhi for his scheduled talk. I step out onto the street and ask the next monk I see to confirm the rumor. After confirmation I quickly make my way to the temple. 

With no bags or electronics allowed, I pass through a metal detector and am patted down. I pass inspection and continue on. At the gate that the Dalai Lama is hidden behind a crowd of people anxiously wait. A dozen security guards circle the general area, and a few men with machine guns stand alert at the gate. 

Finally the gates open and the Dalai Lama makes his appearance, surrounded with more security. He smiles and waves as he slowly makes his way through the mass of people, up the stairs and to his seat. Translators of a dozen languages sit perched in front of groups of people waiting to hear the translation of what his Holiness has to say. I find English and take a seat on the cold floor. 

At some point during chanting I am served a piece of bread and a cup of tea. The Dalai Lama spoke for a couple hours on the subject of the four truths, the steps towards enlightenment, and the importance of not only chanting a mantra but also understanding the meaning and significance of the manta. 

After a couple hours, the cold, and the numbness in my butt and legs helped me decide to explore the temple complex. Hundreds of people from all walks of life patiently sat and listened. The hundreds of men, women, and children in red robes and shaved heads were seated closest to his Holiness, crammed in and pouring out of the room where he was seated.  

As a second round of tea came around, I retired back to the city, where the noise and chaos had certainty not stopped. At least a small piece of the wisdom from his holiness still lingered inside of me. 

An Orthodox Monastery in Bulgaria & a Sikh Temple in India

After watching the government protests (summer of 2013) in Sofia, Bulgaria, I decided to head for the hills for some peace and quiet.  

From Sofia, it was a few hours by bus to Rila, where I transferred to a smaller bus to take me up the mountains to an Orthodox Monastery in the middle of nowhere.

Once I arrived I went out for a hike, but 10 minutes into my hike the rain started the poor down. I retreated back to the sanctuary of the monks quarters, where I had been given a small, old, squeaky, saggy, wire framed bed, in a room for 3, which I had to myself. This was at first an appealing idea, but as the rain continued and the storm intensified, the structural integrity of the building was tested. Rain started to slowly leak through the ceiling. Then the drops got faster and faster and puddles started to form on the floor. The bed next to mine begin to become soaked through, and eventually drops started dripping out the bottom of the mattress. 

It was a long, damp, and hungry night.  Although I saw 2 monks carrying a sheep by its legs into the monastery and another with a heap of vegetables, I was not allowed to eat with these black cloaked, bearded men. I was stuck with only the water and loaf of bread that I had brought with me. 

As the sun rose, so did I.  The storm had passed and the monastery looked magnificent in the fog with mountains all around. I attended a service, which seemed like an endless string of kissing (pictures, the floor, books, etc.) and chanting. Hours later it ended, and I was free. I enjoyed the quiet, the sanctuary and the scenery for the remainder of my time there. 

Shorty after arriving in Delhi, India (my first time in the country), I decided that the noise, pollution, and busyness of the city was enough for me (especially since I was staying in the main bazar). I bought a train ticket for Amritsar, and 2 days later I was off. After 7 quick hours on a train, and a bicycle rickshaw ride later, I was standing at the gates of the Golden Temple. I quickly found the pilgrims quarters and was given a bed in a 3 person room. This time my room was full, as well as every other room, courtyard, stairwell, and ceiling.

The difference in noise, as compared to Rila was incredible. I was hoping that my tendency to be a light sleeper would quickly change. 

I ventured through and around the temple. Watched people kiss the ground and bow. Saw them bathe in the water that surrounded the temple, repeatedly and rhythmically dunking themselves. I also enjoyed the melodic chanting that could be heard throughout the whole establishment. The temple is said to be made with over 700kg of pure gold.

This time I was allowed to eat with the people at the temple. Food was provided to anyone and everyone who so desired, and so I sat on the floor, in a hall with hundreds of other people, and enjoyed a great meal. The system of preparing food, handing out plates and cups, serving food, and cleaning was one of the most well tuned operations that I have ever seen, and was completely by volunteer.

I stayed for two nights. During my time there I also bathed in the communal shower, which is a series of waist high fosets that spit out luke warm water. I bathed in my underwear, which everyone else did also. I also enjoyed walking around the temple at night; a pretty sight to behold.