I'm sorry. No, really, I am.

Before I tell you about the last two months of my travels, let me just take a moment to sincerely apologize for the fact that I've only posted once since I've been gone. If it'll help, I'll promise you my firstborn. Or how about the pictures that I'll finally post at the end? Even though I thought it would be pretty easy to get into internet cafes once a week or so to update, that definitely proved not to be the case, as most of the farms I stayed on didn't have internet, and when I was able to get online I spent the time I had frantically searching for hostels or booking tickets. Yeah, that's right, you all take backseat to my desire to have somewhere to sleep.

So, since I have a lot of catchup to do and not much inclination to be as detailed as I was before, here is a (relatively) brief summary:

Part Four: Ireland, continued
If you can remember back this far (or are that interested in re-reading my blog) I left you all on the brink of meeting Kate in Belfast. After waiting for two hours in the freezing cold to meet her bus, I finally received a text from her saying that she was safe and snug in the hostel, and where was I? Eventually I forgave her for leaving me in downtown Belfast at midnight, and we enjoyed our time in the fascinating city, doing a lot of walking, only a little eating, and even less sightseeing (using a Lonely Planet guide four years old apparently does have its drawbacks). Deciding that we hated our hostel, we left for a nicer, but more expensive one across the street, and spent the entire next morning complaining to the very nice owner about how much money we were spending in this poor, but very expensive, city. Taking pity on us, Arnie offered us a modified WWOOF scheme--if we cleaned and did a bit of gardening, we could have a free room for as long as we wanted. Eagerly we took him up on the offer and stayed for a week in Belfast, forgoing Dublin and the Dingle peninsula (which was, according to Kate, the false pretense I used to drag her to Ireland in the first place). Arnie was an incredibly friendly host and took us sailing on the Irish sea. However, we did eventually have to leave Belfast for cheaper pastures (they don't get any greener in Ireland) and we found ourselves at Jeremy Baines' house near Bantry, in the westernmost corner of Co. Cork.

Jeremy's house was a WWOOF farm of sorts. He proclaimed himself to be an organic home designer, and his house was indeed beautiful, creative, and very green. However, Kate and I weren't happy at his "farm", as he had outright lied in his emails (ie "Sure, you can ride our horses!") and the living situation was less than ideal. To make a very long, unnecessarily drama-filled story short, we asked to leave after only a few days and shortly found ourselves exploring the Rock of Cashel, for centuries the nucleus of government, then religious power, in Ireland.

Part Six: Sunrise Farm
Soon we found ourselves in Limerick, intending to catch a bus to Skariff where our next farm would collect us. Unfortunately, as it was a bank holiday, the one daily bus wasn't running, so we decided to hitch. But, as it was still early, we first wanted to take a look round the city famed for its repulsion as a tourist destination. And, being the seasoned travelers we are, as we strolled back into the station to collect our bags after a good four hours spent killing time, I suddenly realized that the sun would go down in about an hour, leaving us with this simple choice: hitch in the dark to a hazy destination carrying 30 pound packs along an unknown route, or stop making stupid decisions. For once in my life, I chose the latter, and, unable to find a place to stay for less than 70 euro, we hired a taxi for the 90-minute journey to Skariff, which was still cheaper.

Sunrise farm was alright as a WWOOF place. We spent most of our time gardening, cooking, or using a mixture of hemp and lime the consistency of tuna mayonnaise to build a meditation hall. I would have enjoyed myself had it not been for constantly being told off for the most idiotic, irrelevant things: how we washed dishes, what shelf we put our shoes on, and breathing too loudly (no joke). The one redeeming factor, that made me reluctant to leave Sunrise farm, was the neighbor Pat, who owned between 50 and 70 free-roaming horses and graciously let us ride them whenever we wanted. So, I happily spent my afternoons galloping to town and back, all by myself as Kate was allergic. My happiest moment so far: riding on a bog road in the dark, watching the stars as I listened to Harry Potter and ate Irish chocolate. My definition of heaven, right there. But soon we left, a) because we were tired of being taken for granted and b) because we were ready to go see...

Part Seven: Dublin
Dublin! The city of endless construction cranes and kegs of Guinness. We didn't do a whole lot here, as we were tired from the last WWOOF farm, but Dublin does mark a milestone: the first time I've written my own day-by-day itinerary in order to make my time spent somewhere most efficient. Of course, I was under the influence of overly organized Kate, and we didn't actually follow the itinerary, but hey! it's a start! Since nothing too interesting happened here, except me getting the worst haircut of my life, I'm going to skip right along.

Part Eight: Athens (I can finally take off my longjohns!)
I arrived in Athens late at night, nervous about the language barrier. But as the plane taxied in, I saw an IKEA, and suddenly realized that all would be OK. Greece may not share the same alphabet, but some things are universal. Too bad it's IKEA.

Athens was great (we're in the middle of November, now). I loved the feeling of wandering down endless narrow streets only to turn the corner and stumble into a 1500-year-old temple. I loved the ever-present Acroplis, even though I missed the museum at the top. I loved the cheap food (1.10 euro for a gyro, and even though I don't eat meat, it was worth it). After all the pomp, rigidity, and cleanliness of Western countries, arriving in Greece, which is an interesting mix between global north and global south, felt refreshingly familiar. It's something about the nagging, sycophantic friendliness of the street vendors and all the feral cats that makes me feel right at home.

Anyway, after doing nothing much but visit the Acropolis and accessories, take the lamest fanicular ever up to a monastery with startlingly clear views of the Mediterranean, and putter around the streets with new friends, I met Maya and we left for another WWOOF place in the Peloponnese. It was a harrowing experience to get there, as all the information on the trains was in Greek only, and our tickets, sold literally two minutes before the train left, were also in Greek, with no explanation. This left us wondering, "Err...how long is it going to take? Where do we transfer? Why do we each have four tickets?" But we figured it out, after thoroughly irritating the conductor by asking, "Amaliada?" every fifteen minutes.

Part Nine: Amaliada
This farm was one of the better ones. Maya and I slept in the same bed (as the other one was constantly dripped on from a leak in the roof) in a straw-bale room down in the barn, sans electricity or hot water. As the barn was the domain of the dozens of cats and dogs, we couldn't leave our room without a few of them slipping in between our legs and diving for any food we may have left out--bread and cornflakes were their favorite, but they didn't turn up their noses at carrots or peppers either, which meant that we had to ask for far more food than we actually got to eat. We spent a good part of each day picking olives and horte, dandelion greens, of which the family consumed incredible amounts.

Jorge and Jennifer had two girls ages four and one and a half, and while we were there they were baptized in an extremely orthodox Greek church. This was extremely interesting to watch, mostly because of the incredibly ostentatious presentation of the girls. We were taken out to lunch afterward, and then went for a swim in the Mediterranean and walked back into town. Amaliada was tiny and we quickly made friends, including one boy who served us Gyros and then a few days later found us in a coffee shop, paid our bill, and sat with us--in virtual silence--for a good fifteen minutes, too shy to say much. I only wish I knew the Greek word for awkward...

At the baptism, we met some American expats from Seattle, who took us under their wing and to ancient Olympia, where the first ever games were held. Maya and I took a lap around the stadium, of course.

We stayed here for a good two weeks, eating delicious fresh food drowned in olive oil and drinking their homemade organic wine. Maya left for another farm while I stayed for another (suddenly lonely) day before heading off for a short few days of sightseeing.

Part Ten: Nafplio
In Nafplio, I stayed, for the first time in months, all by myself in--gasp!--a single! I spent a few days exploring the narrow, Italian-esque alleys, snacking on Spanikopita and avoiding the very...."active" Greek men. The highlight was climbing the 999 steps up to Acronafplio, the fortress of Palamidi, which was absolutely deserted. I enjoyed exploring on my own, feeling as if I was the first to stumble upon ancient, muddy cisterns or pitch-black, crumbling tunnels. After getting a nice tan in one of the first really sunny days in Greece, I took a long walk along an orangey-red cliff being bombarded by the green Mediterranean.

Part Eleven: Surprise ending!
The next day, I headed back to my hostel in Athens where I took a quick trip to the National Museum to see what had been excavated in all those great ruins I'd been exploring, before heading off for an early night, as I had a flight to catch the next morning! At 6am, I took off for Munich, then Denver, and finally Spokane, where I enjoyed some much-wanted home comforts...like free food and sleeping in. Christmas with the family was just what I needed to recharge my rather jaded batteries before my next adventure--three months in Granada, Spain, intensively studying Spanish. Hopefully, I'll live in an apartment with Spanish-speaking roommates. In fact, I leave tomorrow! And before you ask, yes, I am planning on returning for Spring quarter...my ticket flies me back into Spokane on March 27th, three days before the next quarter starts.

I'll try to keep you updated, but you know what that means...

PS I have finally, under much nagging, uploaded my pictures onto the internet. They are on Facebook, for those of you who have it. (Whiny Sydney, this was for you.) For those of you who don't, here are the links to my albums:

Ireland and London:
http://washington.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2219321&l=1edcd&id=10721723

WWOOFing in England:
http://washington.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2219328&l=797e2&id=10721723

Northern Ireland:
http://washington.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2219332&l=bbf7d&id=10721723

Cormac and Seamus's Adventures:
http://washington.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2219336&l=1cdfc&id=10721723

Greece:
http://washington.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2219341&l=b57a7&id=10721723

This is me updating regularly*

Quite a bit has happened in this first month of my adventures. I'll just give you the highlights...

Part one: Ireland (already long, long, ago)
I met Connie in the Seattle airport, after staying up all night writing emails and wishing I had a garbage compactor to fit everything in my pack. Fast forward three airports, three busrides, and THREE DAYS later, and we finally arrived in Dingle, County Kerry, Ireland, our first (and only) planned stop, which was well worth the incredible hassle and stress it took to travel there. From here, we started walking. Our first day took us over pastoral, stone-walled hills, through lanes buttressed by high fuschia hedges (still in bloom), along gently curving sandy beaches, past ancient monastic beehive-shaped huts and postcard-perfect views of the Blasket islands. Thirteen miles later...we arrived at our B&B, absolutely thrilled (I promise, the thrill was somewhere under all that weary soreness). As far as I was concerned, everything else our walking tour would take us through would be icing on the cake.

The company we hired to organize the tour for us took care of everything from providing transport for our (35 pound) packs to trail notes (follow the low stone wall until you reach another stone wall, whereupon you turn left into a field...). Our first day in Dingle, we arranged with the company to organize a post-Dingle extension to the Burren in County Clare, and then transportation back to Dublin for our flight to London. Basically, this company took care of all the stressful planning and thinking bits, and we were allowed to wander freely to our next destination.

After a day-long trip to the Blasket Islands, we set off again for our next B and B, a further 9 miles away. So the days passed, with beach walks bleating sheep, sunburns and sugary tea. We were extremely lucky to only receive one morning of rain, the rest of the days being mostly sunny, making the several pounds of rain pants, jackets, umbrellas, long johns, hats, gloves, and emergency ponchos we brought seem happily superfluous. After another day in Dingle town, spent poking around their shops and eating a ridiculous amount of delicious vegetarian food, we set off for Doolin, County Clare, a few miles from the Cliffs of Moher. Bypassing the national matchmaking festival in Lisdoonvarna, we were dropped off right in front of our B and B, Riverfield House, which looked great...from the outside. To make a long story short, Riverfield was quite a disappointment, and we left the next morning for a private room in a hostel instead. Doolin was much the same: sounded great in theory, looked alright at first glance, but quickly disenchanting, no matter how many second chances we gave it. We did enjoy a nice long walk down to the Cliffs of Moher and leisurely teas in the only nice cafe in the entire town.

Soon we were on our way to Galway, which quickly rose in my estimation to my second favorite city (after Seattle, of course), where we enjoyed deeeeeelicious fresh baked scones and jam, among other unforgetable meals. The next day we were off again to our airport hotel in Dublin, where we would spend the night packing our extra bits into a new duffle bag which Connie graciously took back, in order to save my back. We said our tearful goodbyes in London the next morning, and she saw me off onto the Tube to find my hostel. Bye, Connie! I love you and miss you and wish we were still Dingle-ing together!

Part two: London

I'd been to London before, so I skipped the main sights and just went for the free ones...my first afternoon I lost myself in the Victoria and Albert museum, possibly the best museum in the world. One room has these huge plaster casts of famous destroyed buildings and monuments--giant cathedral walls stretching up 50 feet at least, tombs of forgotten knights and lords, Roman pillars so tall that they are displayed in three segments...

I stayed the first four nights in O'Callaghan's hostel, which was very expensive at £18/night, but still the best hostel I've ever stayed in. Maya came the next day and we proceeded to madly search for a WWOOF host, knowing that there was very little possibility of finding one on Friday that would let us come on Monday. Laura came the day after that, and it was a joyous reunion...but all too soon, she was away again. Laura, I can't believe you went to Africa!

Maya and I decided to leave O'Callaghan's when our booking ran out, as it was just too expensive. We found the cheapest hostel we could...which is something I'll never do again. As soon as we arrived at The 8, I knew we'd made a mistake. Not only was it an expensive 30 minute tube ride outside of city center, it was over a nightclub. After waiting for 45 minutes to be allowed to check in, we were shown to our room...our fly-infested, never-been-vacuumed, WTF-am-I-doing-here room. I'll skip the rest of the details and just say that we high-tailed it out of there the next morning, spending our last night in London down South in a far nicer district.

My favorite part of London: going to see Phantom of the Opera. Maya and I were so enthralled (and so downcast after The 8) that we went to see Les Miserables, too, even if I had already seen it.

But pretty soon, a mere £220 later, we were outta there! And as much as I enjoyed it, I was pretty excited to leave.

Part three: Tinker's Bubble

As our first WWOOF host, Tinker's Bubble was a bit of a shock. We knew when we arrived that we were going to a community attempting to be sustainable, but we didn't know that this meant no hot water or heat. We borrowed a pile of blankets, thankful that we'd brought along our sleep sheets, and crawled into our long johns, not to remove them for a week. When showing us around, Mike casually mentioned, "And this is the bathhouse...if you're here for a week or so you can have a bath..." Ah. A week of farmwork and sweating with no bath? OK. Good. (Just for you, Leanne--they had some pretty sweet composting toilets.)

Mike also took us on a tour of the village, Norton-sub-Hamdon, a picturesque hamlet of honey-colored stone cottages. He drove us to the top of Ham hill at sunset, pointing across the pink-glazed hills and fields to two mountains on the horizon that were Wales. Oh, and did he mention that Ham hill was not only an ancient stone quarry, but also a ruined Roman fort?

Work at Tinker's Bubble was mainly gardening, weeding, apple-picking, scything away fields of nettle, and occasionally milking Millie the cow or Ruby the goat. It wasn't difficult, yet still was very satisfying, as we were able to spend all day in the sun (still no rain!) eating the windfallen apples or large chunks of organic cheese or bread.

Fun fact: did you know that a marijuana plant the size of a small house is required to supply 5 people with twenty joints a day? Neither did we, until we sat down right next to it. No wonder they aren't certified organic.

Part four: West Lynch Stables

We left Tinker's Bubble after about 8 days for a new place in Somerset, near Minehead and Porlock in the midst of beautiful Exmoor national park. Guy and Mo's main project was restoring the Victorian water wheel they had searched for in order to provide all their own energy. Therefore, my main occupation was to muck out the bottom of the wheel pit, which had accumulated 150 years of gravel, bricks, compost, garbage, pottery, and rocks rocks rocks, all sitting in about half a foot of muddy water. After shoveling out a bucketful, the bucket had to be hauled up 20 feet to be dumped into giant bags which were later hauled away. Therefore, each pound of muck had to be lifted three times, and in four days, I participated in moving about eight tons of the stuff. If you listened closely, you could actually hear my muscles growing. Other projects at West Lynch included egg collecting and puppy-minding, weeding and wall repair.

Part five: Ireland (version 2.0)

I was quite sad to leave as I'd found a comfortable niche, with my own bed and hot showers, a lot of company from the three other WWOOFers staying there, and as much sarcasm as I could handle. However, I did leave last Thursday to do a few Servas visits in Northern Ireland, something I'd been hoping to do since I studied Irish history two years ago. At the moment, I'm sitting in my hostel in Derry, realizing that nothing is open in super-religious Northern Ireland on a Sunday morning, and therefor whiling away the hours writing to you lot. N.I. is much much poorer than the Republic (though far more expensive), and this is obvious in the grafitti and disregarded buildings. Most of the towns I've been through remind me of Spokane in their concrete buildings, empty streets, and lifeless, cookie-cutter suburbs. It's not a nice place to be, but it's good to see what happens to a place after hundreds of years of neighbor-vs-neighbor conflict and constant fear of violence at the hands of either British soldiers or IRA militia. I've had a fantastic opportunity to discuss the violence with Bert and Donna Weir, my Servas hosts. Though he never directly said it, I'm pretty sure Bert was a former IRA fighter, now turned peacemaker, and it was fascinating to hear his rendition of events and stories of the bad old days. Donna and Bert were incredibly hospitable, picking me up in Belfast so I didn't have to take the 45minute long busride, and the next day helping me catch the bus to seaside Newcastle so that I could climb Sleive Donard, the tallest "mountain" in the area at 860 meters. Needless to say, the view from the top was gorgeous. I could just make out Scotland and Wales through the clouds hanging at eye height, and I couldn't have been happier as I ate the goat and sheep's cheese sandwich and drank the flask of tea Donna prepared for me.

I'm planning on meeting Kate, another WWOOFer I met at Guy and Mo's, in Belfast on Monday, which we will explore for a few days before heading off into the Republic for another week. We will then spend some time at a farm in County Clare, before I meet Maya again to continue our travels together.

I hope I'll be able to write again...eventually.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Beds I've slept in since September 5th: 19

*To be fair, once a month is still regular...

Where do I go from here?

I've met many new people this summer, and almost everybody asks me the same, seemingly simple question: when are you going back to school? Prepared for anything, I have two answers. If I'm with my mother, I grin as viciously as possible and cackle, "Never!" If I'm not, then I grimace nervously and sigh, "That's a great question."

The truth is that I don't know. I'm taking this year off--it's done, I'm committed, I've suspended my scholarships and bought my one-way ticket. The reason for this deviation from my four-year plan is manifold, but perhaps the simplest and most compelling was my utter frustration and despair at the end of last quarter. I was sick of Seattle, and the merest thought of another 15 credits come September 28th literally made me dizzy. Coming down from the high that was my winter, spring quarter slowly seduced me into day after day of same-old, same-old. I hate same-old, same-old. Three months in India (and then, three weeks of China) only whetted my appetite for a much longer break.

But it's not just a break (I keep telling my mother). It's a Learning Opportunity. As someone so aptly put it, college was interfering with my education, and I am ready to embrace alternative methods of learning. (I can practically hear her rolling her eyes now.) I won't just be bumming around wasting money, I'll be Doing Things. Like organic farming with an organization called WWOOF, and staying in the homes of peacemakers to learn about their lives--I'm particularly relishing visiting peacemakers in Northern Ireland. If I can find a good organization, I will also volunteer long-term with a conservation group (like Rachel did with the sea turtles in Athens). This winter, I'm most likely enrolling at the University of Granada to intensively study Spanish. Hopefully, this will mean finally getting to have a host-family. Before that, I will be visiting Ireland with my aunt Connie for two weeks, and we will be taking a short walking tour of the Dingle Peninsula. And, my friend Maya will be traveling with me.

And all this starts tomorrow, September 5th. I've just finished packing my bag, which, due to the fact that farming in England will be cooold and rainy in fall, is bursting at the seams. I'm nervous and excited, ready for it to begin and yet not wanting to leave home. Though it seems that I've been doing nothing but arranging things for a long time, I haven't been able to concretely plan much of what I'll be doing for the next month and beyond, and that is a very stressful situation to allow myself to enter. But I promise promise PROMISE to be as safe as possible, and to err on the side of caution. Part of the logic of buying a one-way ticket was to be able to buy one back home at a moment's notice if everything goes wrong. ...and all this starts tomorrow...

So if, over the next year, you'd like to see where I'm at or how I'm doing, please keep checking this website. I'll try my hardest to update it more than I did in India, if not regularly, and to add pictures this time. And, if you have been to Europe and have seen something spectacular, please let me know. Clearly, I have no pressing plans.

Wish me luck, and have a good year!

Back home

Well, my blog died the last few weeks, but so did my free time. I can honestly say that I've never had a busier three months, but the intensity of the last few weeks completely blew me away. I am back home now, a week early. We found out last Friday as we were getting on the bus to leave Dharamsala that Tayka's dad died unexpectedly from pneumonia. Two days later, I flew her home to Denver so that she would not have to be alone for so long. Though it meant leaving my friends and India ealier than I was prepared for, I am so glad that I was there for Tayka, able to hold her hand and carry her bags.

The journey home couldn't have been smoother. Though getting on to the plane to be greeted with "Hello" in a SOUTHERN accent, then hearing the stewardesses yelling at Indian people for walking around while the fasten seatbelt light was on was all very unpleasant, Tayka and I passed the journey watching Indian movies, playing cards, and sleeping. We wore poitus (they will ALWAYS be poitus, not bindis) through the Newark and Denver airports, and received many strange looks. I enjoyed the negative attention, hoping that somehow I was reflecting it back on the kids screaming for a candy bar and McDonalds rather than 3 rupees for rice, the unnecessarily spotless glamor of the airports, the huge stores filled with cellphones or magazines or neck pillows... Tayka and I went through CULTURE SHOCK as soon as we stepped off the first plane.

Now I am back home, wearing Berkeley sweatshirt instead of handmade 100% cotton shirts, wool socks instead of bug repellent and sunscreen. I had soysage for breakfast...wierd. Where's the chai and the cow poop? Where's the hair in my food? And why are these bathrooms so clean? (By the way, when airplane bathrooms not only seem clean but also luxurious, you know you've been somewhere good... America: where there's pee on the seat, but not the floor. I'm still squatting, just a little higher up. )

I was going to use this post to write about Dharamsala, seeing the Dalai Lama, marching in a peace rally, smelly Delhi, leaving Auroville, and everything else important that I've left out over the last three months, but I've realized that, try as I might, my blog can never be even near a complete representation of my trip. Unfortunately, there are no words that can sum up what I've done or who I've become. I have undergone so much change that it will take months for me to figure out who I am now. All I can say to those who are unsatisfied with this blog as an account of my trip is: come ask me.

From back in the land of thermostats and SUVs,
Sarah

Twelve hours

It's 6:06, which means that I've entered the last twelve hours of my time in Auroville. I can't describe how this makes me feel, because there are so many conflicting emotions. Much has happened to me since my last post, and I hate to be vague, so I'll just say that it was wonderful, scary, frustrating, stressful, harmonious, gorgeous, disheartening, and emotional! But all of this, if you can imagine, in a good way.

My plans for the next two weeks are to travel to Dharmasala, the exile city of the Dhalai Lama, for a peace march on the 10th of March. We'll stay there until the 12th, then back into Delhi until the 18th. We'll visit the Taj Mahal during this time. Then we'll take a plane to Bangkok, and from there probably to Chiang Mai to trek in the jungle for a few days, and then I'll be coming HOME!

Though I'm saddened to leave Auroville, I am incredibly excited to come home and share everything with anybody who asks. Unfortunately, now is not the time..

Away for a while

Just wanted to let everybody know that I'll be out of email contact for the next 10 days, Feb 16-26th. We'll be exploring Hampi, the birthplace of Hanuman, and will be sleeping in caves, fasting, and meditating for a time.

Happy valentine's day!

Contrasts

Speaking of intense experiences, Monday of this week had some pretty extreme highs and lows. While sitting in class, I wrote this message to post on my blog:

"I can't express how much I've needed this experience, how everything in the past two or three years has been leading up to this but WILL NOT END HERE. I can't even express what is happening to me here that is so profound, because in the middle of a breakthrough it is a) impossible to stop to think about it and b) impossible to indentify what is happening. So, to EVERYBODY who has helped make this possible, helped make me the person I was when I stepped onto the plane in Spokane, here is the most inadequate thank you ever..."

A few hours later, I went back to my capsule to find that my camera, wallet, and headlamp had been stolen while I was in class. Though my credit cards and ID were left for me, my pictures (all 1400!) were taken. This has been an incredibly illuminating experience for me, as I try to process the emotions and cultural issues that this theft has brought up within me and the community. There is a slight chance that the camera will be returned, but I've done my best to surrender it.

Even though I am disappointed, I still can't imagine a better place to be right now.

PS: The Capsule...

As a result of living in a capsule, I have:

a) been told I need to wash my clothes more often by a rat (it ate a hole in my pants)

b) at least quadrupled the number of mosquito bites acquired on the first part of the trip...

c) decided that everybody should have their own personal treehouse.

Changes

I promised I would write about our awesome trip to Tiruvannamali, but I really don't have time. Let's just give a brief rundown:

a) We stayed in THE NICEST (by Western standards) hotel, with...A SWIMMING POOL!
b) We visited the Sri Ramana Maharshi ashram to participate in chanting and peacock-watching
c) I had the most intense experience of my life as we discussed matters of the heart with a Brahmin (priest/guru) who took us through a Hindu puja ceremony in the temple of Shiva...hopefully more on that later
d) We woke up at 4 in the morning to climb Mt. Arunachala, the body of Shiva, in bare feet and headlamps
e) On the way back, we visited Gingee, some ancient fortifications atop jumbles of boulders--one of the most beautiful things I've seen here.

This is unsatisfactory, but will have to do.

Last week, we moved from the Tibetan Pavilion to Verite community, in order to experience the communal aspect of living in Auroville. I am now staying in a capsule--a keet hut raised on pillars, made solely of bamboo and palm fronds. I'm thoroughly enjoying this, as it's like camping only cooler. My own personal tree fort...

Things are still incredibly busy here, far moreso than I had expected. And to think, I had been anticipating a nice, relaxing trip to India, maybe a little tanning, maybe some lemonade... how lucky am I to not have my expectations met!

This was my post for the group journal, found at www.auroville07.greatestjournal.com. I promise I'll post more about our amazing trip to Tiruvannamalai...once I get over how tired it made me :)

Another day in Auroville, and another set of new experiences and things to wonder at. I didn't realize that Auroville would be so conducive to change; each day, I barely have time to process one event before something new starts unfolding. Anywhere else, this process would take me so much longer...

Today was basically normal--or at least as normal as anything in Auroville seems to us. Yoga, breakfast (especially incredible today, thanks to Kalsang's genius), service learning (for me, Solitude farm where I spent a very calming three hours weeding), lunch at the Solar Kitchen (I loaned my bike to Leanne and walked both ways, which made me miss all the walking I do in Seattle), then class, which only lasted an hour so that we could participate in one of the most incredible discussions I've ever experienced. The talk was on forgiveness, led by two people--one whose daughter had been killed on the other's orders during apartheid in South Africa. Both of these people were so incredibly strong and courageous, and by the end of the two hours, the room was thick with the energy of the engaged listeners, everybody putting their ideas and feelings forward for the group.

I was struck recently by the genuine goodness of our group dynamic. We were all walking somewhere and I realized something about how I was reacting to our surroundings, and immediately turned to whoever was next to me and said it. It was only until later that I realized how fantastic it was that I didn't care which of our groupmembers I spoke to. This is, of course, only a tiny indication of the love and respect I feel towards everybody right now (must be all the chocolate I just ate). I really feel that this trip is only getting better and better...

Updates!

Auroville is still going wonderfully. As I settle in, I appreciate the lifestyle more and more, though it is not without its problems. Today I spent the morning doing my homework...in a hammock...with the sun warming my feet...and cows mooing in the background. Now I'm going to the beach, then Pondicherry for dinner. Jealous yet?

Last night, the American Pavilion (where half of our group is staying) hosted a professional storyteller and hot cocoa night. After eating dinner at Solitude farm (the place where I work--it was incredible to be eating organic salads and grains that you have harvested yourself), we came back here and sat around a bonfire while drinking THE STRANGEST hot cocoa ever and listening to...interesting "Native American" stories. No wonder some Tamils have a strange conception of the US.

Our group has started a collective journal. Each day a new person will write the day's events (my turn is in about ten days). So in other words, it's this blog times 1,000 in reliability (but minus 500 in coolness). The address is http://auroville07.greatestjournal.com.

Also, my address here has finally been revealed!

Sarah Ellison
Tibetan Pavilion
Auroville, Tamil Nadu
605 101 INDIA

Any shipments of chocolate (mom, that Hershey's espresso dark chocolate was AMAZING) or anti-itch cream are appreciated.

No pictures yet, but hopefully soon (I know, I keep saying that).

The Longest Week of my Life (And In Such a Good Way)

I realized today that it had been barely 10 days since I left home (one of which was lost when I crossed the date line). That's funny, since I would've guessed about a month. What with touring Bangkok, forming relationships with 16 new people, cycling around Auroville and touring a dozen potential service learning sites, getting adjusted to the heat and humidity, having a sinus infection... well, it's been a long ten days.

Honestly, at first I wasn't too thrilled with Auroville. Mostly these were personal considerations (and mostly that was my rooming situation), but more and more I am coming to love it. For instance, the zillions of unidentified bug bites (a bee or something stung me on the neck about an hour ago and it still hurts like a beast) are mitigated by the ability to study in the warm afternoon sun, listening to the sound of pop Indian music played from a nearby village. And, the lack of toilet paper pales in comparison to the chance to make coriander-peanut chutney with a mortar and pestle and yell cows out of the bike paths. At this point, I am enjoying my time here more and more with each passing moment. It reminds me of New Salem in many aspects.

I believe that I will be much healthier when I get home, both emotionally and physically. We eat three DELICIOUS meals a day, mostly organic and mostly vegan, and drink spirulina and other tasty beverages (that fermented mushroom kind you can get in the states, only fresh). Last night I had fresh lime soda (sort of like a margharita--fresh lime squeezed into a glass with soda water poured over it and salt) and I'm pretty sure it cured my sinus infection. Also, we bike at least an hour a day, and as the cycles are all one-speed, this is no cruise. I'm definitely sweating, puffing, and sometimes groaning by the time we get back home. At least I'll have nice muscly legs to show off for all my efforts.

I've also decided on my service learning for the time I'll be here. For three days a week I'll be working at Solitude, a completely organic farm that focuses on producing all the various ingredients for a restaurant that I'll also cook for. The other two days, I'll be working at KOFPU--Kottakarai (?) Organic Food Processing Unit. While there, I'll not only be learning how to make delicious everything (we ate lunch there once and it was incredible...), but also gathering Anandi's recipes into a cookbook to sell in the states, proceeds benefiting KOFPU. Sounds like a good time.

There's much more to say, but I'll keep everybody in suspense and save it for a later post. Believe it or not, I have a lot of homework to get to...

PS Pictures hopefully are coming soon...hopefully...

Sawadee bee mai!

For all who heard of the New Year's bombings in Bangkok, don't worry! I was far away, and the street on which we spent New Year's eve was patrolled by bomb-sniffing dogs.

Well, I've completed my journeys in Thailand, and I'm looking forward to going back for a less touristy, holiday-oriented visit. Perhaps the best part of my New Year celebration was sitting down for dinner at a long table next to a garbage-infested canal behind our hotel, and realizing that we were eating only with Thai people, none of whom spoke English, and all giving us strange looks that plainly said "You with all your money, why are you eating here?" Nevertheless, it was by far the best sixty cents I've ever spent for amazing Panang curry.

I am now beginning to settle in to Auroville. We've settled our accomodations and unpacked--now the rest of the week is dedicated to tours (by bike) of the township. I knew that I had a lot of misconceptions when coming here, but I definitely didn't expect this! It will take a bit of getting used to, but I'm enjoying the process.

I've already eaten the best Thai food and Indian food of my life, and have only been here for a few days. What more can I ask? By the way, Sarah, your chai is very authentic. I can barely taste a difference, except they don't add sugar...

So, Sawadee bee mai (Happy New Year) and thanks for all the concern!