Kolcata Botanical Gardens January 11, 2008

How do I stay healthy? I try out a restaurant and I go back if I don't puke. It works. We'll see how long that lasts.

Its nice to hear birdsong again. The smog and scarcity drove me from the inner city out to the gardens. Well I actually was driven in a city bus crammed with unfamiliar humans but I'll get to that later. Kolcata is captivating, all-consuming, chaotic, and slowly crumbling in dusty heaps of litter with rickshaws racing over it. One saving grace is Gandhi's grandson is in charge here. He's the governor. Far better than what we have at home in California.

I'm almost embarrassed to be white and not buy anything from the street vendors selling clothes, food, shoes, and electrical items that may not work. I'm a little tired of the dollar sign interaction only. But I'm starting to make friends.

Today at 6 AM I walked out onto the street after waking up the man who was lying on the floor under a blanket inside the locked gate of my guesthouse. I had no idea he was the security guard. I didn't feel that secure when I saw the empty dark street and felt the spooky vibes on the sidewalk. I looked back at the locked gate behind me and thought, angels protect me. And I immediately met Lawrence a nice man with a wife and child who intervened on my behalf to help me find a bus to the botanical gardens - with no expectation of compensation. That was refreshing.

Many times in India I have explained to locals that it is more polite to give directions to visitors who are lost for free. On the plus side there are lovely clothes for cheap here, good food, spicy and sugared chai, and mostly honorable people; maybe. This morning I had planned to take a taxi but it didn't go as I thought it should. I like English in a taxi driver. And I was not finding any who spoke it - they say they know it but I have been in taxis with drivers who assured me they did know where a guesthouse is located but in fact do not and want me to tell him in his native tongue where it is now that we are lost. I'm in a foreign country you chuckle head - how am I supposed to know when I have never been here? So Lawrence worked out the price for me with one of his cronies - 120 rupees which now I realize was only about $3 including tolls. But when we get in the car smoked-out cigarette man gets in the driver's seat. There was a cloud of tobacco stench around him and he may have had something stronger to drink for breakfast than orange juice.

I said, "I'm not gonna get in the car with two men. I'm a woman!" Especially in the near dark of dawn. Then the men start all that, "Don't you trust me?"crap. I said, "I trust you Lawrence but I'm not going with two men, I'll take the bus." So he actually takes me to where the bus is supposed to arrive. After an hour of searching and an alarming squat toilet experience in my ankle length skirt at the public bus station we finally found it. And I saved 110 rupees - nearly $3. Cost for bus: 7 rupees. Yippee. I feel like I beat the system taking the bus, even though I was squashed into the walls and windows when loads more humans would board the bus and the taller men had their heads folded into their necks crushed against the ceiling. I at least had a seat.

Another kind person was the father I met at the chai stand this morning. He was wholesome and friendly the way he inquired about my journey and we talked about raising children and our families in the dark before Kolcata woke up. It was a real happening scene at the chai stand. I was the only white tourist woman up and awake. You don't see any foreigners out at 6AM in Kolkata as their tout guides probably have told them to stay under the covers and wait for room service but this was my first test of feeling fear and moving past it.

Travel in India is semi-infuriating. Indian women look at the tiny square inch of skin showing on my bare shoulders like I'm a stripper. Oh excuse me - your whole fat gut is exposed under your sari and I can see way more inches of skin from the side view. Please cover up. But eventually they smile back at me.Usually. Men are more prone to want to mingle it up and chat not to mention all my new beggar friends. I feel like the bottom of a boat, with sucking barnacles. They keep calling me "Auntie" and "Mother" to get me to open my purse.

Heinous.

Crashlanded in Kolcata January 10 2008

Oh my God. It's way worse than Delhi. Delhi was modern; this city is crumbling in colonial squalor, although I have heard the metro is squeaky clean but that is hard to believe here on squalid lane. On the other hand it is vibrantly astounding; just watching the women stroll in their saris on the dusty streets decked out in blow-your-brain cells reds and eye-popping pinks is a picnic in itself.

But there is horrifying poverty everywhere while we foreigners gawk. I can't wait for my ten-day Vipassana meditation time in Bodh Gaya. Just me and God and a whole lotta sitting. Take me Buddha I've had enough of the big city. Over it. Loud, heinous, poor, dirty, polluted grimy air. Next. Oh and squeeze every last rupee out of your pockets constantly.

I leave tomorrow for Bodh Gaya in Bihar; the rock-bottom poorest part of India, to the exact place on earth where Buddha was enlightened. I need some light all right. My room here in Kolcata is like a horror movie set. I went cheap in a tourist guesthouse that was sub-par for my first night in India but I will light some incense, say some prayers, disperse the ghosts, good night sleep tight - hope there are no bed bugs. I think I'm the only tenant, no wait I met one other inmate after I moved my backpack in. Tomorrow I will trot over to the botanical gardens or Mother Theresa's home for the dying next to the Kali Temple. I will decide what to do when I wake up in my horror movie. I halfway blocked it out how terrifyingly arrogant the men are here. They assume the superior I'm better than you posture when they aren't. It ain't gonna work on me, Bub. Talk to the hand. You are at Feisty Central my friend and I use the term loosely.

Right now I hear a white man chewing out his girlfriend since he's been looking for her for two hours. Calm down, she can be free and eat out alone some time. Cut the umbilical cord. Snip-snap. There are lots of solo female warriors in these parts. I've met several all ready. I had a nice time on the train in Thailand with Boogie; a gal from Brooklyn who is a lighting technician for the film industry. She invited me to stay with her in New York when I visit. We had a spirited conversation about lovers - it dissolved my discouragement after that bleak film, "Elizabeth." I met her in this tiny place Aurrayata, a temple town. But I got tired of temples and the crucifying heat so I bought a silk purse for$4 which took about an hour to choose from the many electrifying hand-made samples on display. Then I nearly fainted from heat exposure trying to find my way back to return my rented bike and catch my train not knowing where the heck I was. I delivered myself to the doorstep of a salon where I figured I should be relaxing and not out on this hellishly hot street sweating and they invited me into the air-conditioning and gave me ice cold bottled water - two angels who spoke a tiny bit of English and then called the owner of the bike shop to come and collect me. This was all communicated in Thai words and I just sat there in my barcalounger smiling and trying to be charming without knowing the language. I was ready to move in with these two lovely women. But I must get to the country, I'm tired of filthy air. And the stereophonic coughing from everyone makes me cringe. It sounds like internal organs are being coughed up as the dust gets into your lungs like ravenous amoeba. And the poverty. This time I feel almost guilty. We have so much and what do we do - we whine constantly.Wanting more, improved, upgraded computers, cars, clothes and casual relationships. It's pitiful.

Next Stop Kolcata January 10, 2008

Next Stop Kolcata

My eyes got misty as we lifted off from the tarmac in Thailand. Goodbye Bangkok, hello India.

I love my new life, I am grateful to God for steering me here. Praise God I listened. It does not work any other way. Trust your gut, Allah, the divine, inner nudges, just do it. When it feels good and true; act on it. My heart is full with freedom. I had to let go of a lot to get here. For example, the backpack my son gave me two years ago in Nepal as it was ripped and unrepairable, most attempts at normalcy, and my preconceived notions at how I think things should turn out. I just go where God tells me to go. It's very simple this way as usually the answer to any question is just wait for the clear answer.

Things to know about Thailand: Men stare at your chest in a lewd manner.Thai women are kind, helpful, and abundantly affectionate. Although I did have to teach one how to hug today. She did not understand the body-squeezing pure affection gesture of a simple hug. Perhaps I will start a new trend in this country.Thai massages. Get one. You will be thrilled. It's delicious to feel so limp you're parboiled.

The food. Heavenly, powerful, slap-in-the-face spicy. I eat street food every day so I can point to what I want without knowing what it is. It's always yummy.

Thai silk for cheap. The worker bees at the hospital wear Thai silk uniforms. Exquisite and elegant. Secret: there is amazing, affordable, medical care in Bangkok unlike the Sicko USA. It's efficient, professional,and speedy. I walked into the hospital today with no appointment and saw an opthamologist within 30 minutes for my eye exam and prescription. Then I had my teeth cleaned and examined by a bonafide dentist. Total price for everything: $77 US. I was formerly Miss Skeptical North American when my son told me about it but the care is better than what we get at home. Remind me to become an ex-pat. But maybe I will wait until I get to Italy.

Welcome to Bangkok January 6th 2008

I just landed in Bangkok - it's a blizzard of people, rickshaws, cars, motorbikes, kindness, tantalizing food, and yesterday my first real-life Thai massage. I was so relaxed I drooled. I tingled in muscles I didn't know I had. Surely they had not been touched for centuries. Counting my past lives too. Lee, the masseuse, twisted me like the bow on a gift box and she doesn't even use oil. She stretches arms and legs into positions that are like the kama sutra but with no sex involved just smooth tugging and folding of arms across chest and thighs pulled out of hip sockets. I felt like I was on one of those medieval stretcher racks but it was all in the name of a mystical, physical experience. Afterwards I felt invigorated.

I hadn't slept that well in years. Then I woke up at 4AM feeling beat up and achey but in the morning I opened my eyes ready to take on the world. Or at least Bangkok. I'll take it. Also I am back to meditating on a regular basis. Everything falls into place after silent sitting. I had not meditated since I left the Western world and I felt discombobulated. It is more important to be spiritually fit than physically fit. And the pedicure helped too.

If you ever want body treatments for cheap come to Bangkok. You can be stroked, shined, waxed, and polished for next to nothing. My massage cost $7. With tip. I felt like a hedonist pilgram today. I strolled through Bangkok taking the canal taxi, jumping into the boat via the bumper-brake tires in my long flowy skirt, visited the stand-up Buddha, and afterwards had an altercation with the auto-rickshaw driver. I should have dismissed him when he pressured me to leave the temple after he said, "take your time." I wanted to stay and I should have. I learn lessons every darn day in how to be firm with idiots. Then unasked he took me to a tout (a form of robber baron who hustles money out of travelers) who wanted me to buy a tailor-made Thai outfit for way too much money. Not. The tailor mistook me for a rich tourist on a two-week holiday. I tried to explain to him the words "budget" and "six-month trip" but he just kept smiling in a very oily way.

Then I put on my red silk skirt from India and everything got better. I sashayed around town had my massage and went to the movies. Then I got lost. But angels came to my rescue in these vexing minutes. It was dark and a man on the street gave me directions to my guesthouse but I was bewildered. Not really lost but confused about which way to walk. So after I have walked in that direction for a while and he's well out of sight I hear running behind me; huffing and panting he's back again."I told you the wrong way!"

He escorted me to the correct street since he was going back to work at the hospital where I got my teeth cleaned earlier today. I tagged along relieved. I had just seen an intense movie, "Elizabeth" and wasn't feeling all cheery and smitten with travel. The movie was supposed to be entertaining but it was heavy and left me with a discouraged feeling about love. Then I got mixed up in the dark and was not sure where I lived.This morning all is better. I floated down the street sampling food from the vendor's wagons in front of my guesthouse. It's cheap and delicious. I can't resist. But this is not why I get sick to my stomach. You never know who will poison you - it could be the pricey splurge restaurant or the sidewalk lunch cart. It happens. Which is now my new mantra. Things can go awry. It is all part of the global adventure. It does not mean I should go home - this is all just a passing show for my entertainment. Don't take it so seriously.Yay.