Delights of India

I'm not referring to the small authentic restaurant in Minneapolis, but rather the sites in the real India. On our second day in Delhi, Justin and I visited the Swaminarayan Akshardham. This is the largest Hindu temple in the world. It's to the Hindu as the Vatican is to the Catholics. Security was tight. Vehicles were searched, including under the hood. We weren't supposed to have any leather on us, no handbags or backpacks, no cameras, and only transparent bottles so that nixed the new water bottle with a filter for international travel. We had to check my small spiral bound notebook so no notes on this tour, which was a little freeing. I could admire the marble carvings on this huge complex that was completed in 2005 after five years of 24/7 construction by 11,000 sadhus, volunteers and artisans. It took 300 million man-hours to carve the 300,000 stones. If only the pyramids were completed in such a short time.

Swaminarayan Akshardham on the River Yamuna is the eternal abode of Bhagwan Swaminarayan, leader of the Hindus from 1781 to 1830 CE. Akshardham Monument is the focal point of this cultural complex. The pink sandstone accented with white marble building is 141’ tall, wider than a football field (316’) and 356’ long. It has 234 intricately carved pillars (two-thirds of the 336 pillars in Istanbul’s Basilica Cistern), 9 domes, 20 pinnacles and 20,000+ unique sculpted figures.

We climbed several flights of stairs in our bare feet on cold marble before stepping into the building. Our eyes were drawn to the 11’ high golden murti of Bhagwan Swaminarayan before entering, but we couldn’t help turning our heads to see the three- story high pillars and the detailed carvings above in the white marble domed ceilings. And to think this was all done in five years. This wasn’t what I expected in a Hindu temple. This was elegant, mature, one might even say understated, not the boldly colored whimsical, fantasy figures I’d seen in Hindu temples in other countries.

The Hindu color palate was used to depict the life of Bhagwan Swaminarayan in a dozen 12’ high paintings from his austerities as a child-yogi to his social and spiritual services in Gujarat and his preaching of the Vedic wisdom. Color also adorned Hindu deities: Shri Ram-Sita, Shri Radha-Krishna, Shri Lakshmi-Narayan and Shri Shiv-Parvati and their ladies.

The monument is surrounded by the Narayan Sarovar, sacred water from 151 rivers and lakes in India, and from 500 waters worldwide. Initially visiting worshippers could anoint themselves in this water, but to preserve the cleanliness, this is now prohibited. Chemicals are used to keep it clean. It seems to me this takes away from its sacredness.

On our way out we meandered through the Yogihriday Kamal, an 8-petalled lotus shaped arena with quotes from notables around the world expressing their belief in their faith. It was simply elegant, and a good transition for us as we made our way to visit the Lotus Temple of the Bahai. This depiction of a lotus flower was upright and closed, rather than splayed open like a water lily as we’d seen at the Hindu temple. This Bahai Temple of Worship was austere in its simplicity, seeming cold in comparison. It didn’t convey the warmth I’d felt in other Bahai temples—in Chicago or Panama City.

After another filling lunch at a government sanctioned restaurant, we went to the National Museum, amazed at the age and detail of the carvings. Coming back to the hotel, I laid down and slept for several hours, awoke, asked Justin if he wanted to go out to dinner, and promptly fell back to sleep only to awaken at 1pm. It’s a great time to update this blog rather than fight trying to go back to sleep, which is what I will attempt to do now.

Beginnings in India

India, a country high on my bucket list, and the country that my nephew Justin chose as the developing country he wanted to visit for his college graduation gift from me. Lucky me! I met up with him in Boston, where we celebrated Christmas with the Wulfpack, and on to India.

By the time we got through customs and immigration, it was early Thursday morning. Caper Travel was there to meet us and take us to our hotel. Being the middle of the night, it was quiet, making it an easy entry for someone who hasn't travelled outside the US much. Still Justin was intimidated by the sites and traffic, and the the driver’s uncertainty of our hotel's location.

Ashuni, our guide, called promptly at 9am for our day of touring Delhi. Off we went, learning that age and education mark differences between New Delhi and old Delhi. New Delhi being only 100 years old and more educated than 500 year old Delhi. 18 people live in the state of Delhi--82% Hindu, 12% Muslin, and 6% Buddhist, Christian or some other sect. 1600 languages are spoken here, three noted on street signs in Delhi.

Jamir Masjid, the largest mosque in India, was our first stop. Built in 1606 A.H. by the Hindu calendar, it offers space for 20,000 worshippers and lots of well-fed pigeons within the open air space and red sandstone walls. Outside is the Chandi Chowk outdoor market similar to Thamel in Nepal. Having arrived early, we took a rickshaw ride throughout the narrow streets, conscious of the building traffic as more shops opened for the throngs of arriving tourists.

Old Delhi was rebuilt eight times, most recently by the Mughals, a family that reigned for 400 years before the British took over. Mughals built the Red Fort and several gates throughout the city. Humayun's Tomb is a memorial to the second Mughal by his second wife, and a precursor to the Taj Mahal. It is a mixture of Muslim and Persian art in a beautiful landscape adorned by peepal and neem trees.

Raj Ghat, south of the Red Fort, marks where Mahatma Gandhi was cremated. The raised black marble platform is symbolic of the simplicity of his life, and the chanted prayers within the serene setting made us think about his lifelong striving for worldwide peace.

India Gate, a beached red sandstone structure, commemorates the 90,000 Indian lives that were lost in WWI. 20,000 names are etched in walls as are American memorials in Washington D.C. Opposite India Gate is the presidential palace, flanked by Secretarial buildings housing the Army (which includes the Army, Air Force and Navy). Along the street connecting them, is Rajpath, where the president (currently a female) gives her state of the union address on 26 January.

Amongst all this is the smog which greeted us the inside of the airport. The horns were honking, the bikes, rickshaws, motorcycles, cars, vans, buses all crowd the streets, which slow down at the "speed breakers". Yet the smells of Indian food are heavenly, and much to my surprise, Justin is adventurous when it comes to eating, so all my worries about him starving himself were for naught. And if that wasn't enough for our first day, we heard Sufis singing quwwali last night after their evening prayers outside a very crowded Hazrat Nizam-ud-din Dargah. What a nice ending to our first day in India. And, we went to bed without dinner, being too tired to eat.

2011 Christmas Letter (aka annual Travel Blog)

Boas festas meus amigos dexembro 2011

That’s Portuguese for “happy holidays my friends”. No, I wasn’t in to Portugal. I went to Brazil in fevereiro, that would be February, as a leader-in-training for Global Citizens Network (GCN), a non-profit that sends small teams of volunteers to indigenous communities throughout the world to work on projects designated by those within the community. The projects provide opportunities for team members to interact with and learn from people of diverse cultures. I’m hoping to lead a trip for GCN in 2012 and you are all invited. (www.globalcitizens.org).

In northeastern Brazil’s Pernambuco area our tiny group of three explored new sites and project options for future GCN teams. We first met with the warm and delightful Xukuru people. They fought long and hard to win back land that had been taken from them by the newly arrived Portuguese. The Xukuru desire to live in peace and equality. Their leader, Cacique Marcos, was chosen “naturally”, not elected. He’s a charismatic-born leader taking after his father, the former cacique, who was killed while fighting for Xukuru lands and his mother, who is a tireless advocate for their people. From there we headed south to see some agricultural projects around the city of Amariji. The people were very welcoming and excited about the prospect of having assistance in developing some community gardens. We toured fields of all kinds of lettuces, green vegetables, and herbs, white yams, umbu (unique to this region), eggplant, beets, and neem. The fruits were endless—pineapple, cashew fruit, guava, papaya, jambu, mango, breadfruit, bananas, and abui. I ate fruit I’d never heard of before, and learned that cashews, my favorite nut, are attached to the bottom of a pear-shaped fruit cradled in very hard shells.

I had just enough time to acclimate at home for a couple of weeks before heading down to the British Virgin Islands for two weeks of sailing and diving—for work. Yes, my life is tough. After another two weeks at home, I again departed for warmer weather, joining my cruising friends, Tom and Rose, in the Bay Islands of Honduras. My interest was in scuba diving, but I’d also be joining them on an overland trip to Guatemala for Easter week. I’m not a church-going person, nor are my friends, so I didn’t understand the motivation until I got to Antigua. Semana Santa is celebrated with daily processions and beautifully adorned curb-to-curb street carpets. These magnificent carpets of colored sawdust and various other materials momentarily displayed on well-worn and irregular cobblestone streets draw thousands of people to Antigua annually for Semana Santa. They weren’t really curb-to-curb, but they were easily eight feet wide, extending as long as fifty feet. Stencils were used to exact many of the designs. And though this is a once-a-year event, I saw at least one shop whose sole business was making these stencils. We saw families working almost every day, making as many as five carpets, sometimes two a day, all dependent upon the parade route.

Maps denoting the day’s procession routes are distributed each morning. The churches parade a wooden statue of Jesus bearing the cross on his shoulder, gazing to his right. That’s the side you want to be on to connect with his eyes saying prayers you hope are answered. The statues are mounted on a long wooden platform that is carried by up to 100 men dressed in purple robes, some talking on their cell phones or eating a sandwich, but most are more solemn. Numbered notches are spaced evenly along the undersides of the platforms where the men are meant to place their shoulder to carry the heavy burden. Every few blocks a new team would seamlessly transition in, and though we were told this was done by height, we saw a number of men almost squatting to carry their portion of the load. The men were followed by women carrying a shorter platform bearing the image of the Virgin Mary.

Moments before the procession arrived, the carpet makers would be putting the finishing touches on their masterpieces leaving no time to admire their creations before the men carrying the Jesus figure would trample it. The Jesus and Virgin Mary statues were followed by a marching band and behind them were the street cleaners and garbage trucks very efficiently whisking away the debris. Moments after the music had wafted away; little evidence remained of these colorful carpets.

Experiencing Semana Santa was worth the two-day long trip each way to and from Antigua. Back in Roatan, there were fish and coral to see. I dived with Tom and Rose, fellow cruisers and a local dive shop when Tom and Rose were busy doing their daily chores. We went out to dinner at the ocean side restaurants and enjoyed the Wednesday night cruisers potluck on a deserted dock.

Over Memorial Day weekend, a skeleton crew sailed Redhawk, the boat I’ve been racing on, from Lake Superior to Lake Michigan for a change of scenery. Within an hour of the mechanic blessing the newly installed engine, we powered her up in the dark and started on our way up the Keweenaw Peninsula. The motor purred like a kitten, far different than the old one. We had a few incidents along the way—a loose alternator belt that we found out was the wrong size, a fire in the alternator, and a docking that was more like a jet airplane taking off rather than coming in for a landing when the boat’s owner, at 2 a.m., forgot that the gear shift for his new engine was now opposite of what it had been for the past twelve years due to the new motor. Somehow the boat’s keel stopped us with little incriminating evidence. We did get the boat to Kenosha safely, and had an almost eventless race in July from Chicago to Mackinac Island, and a relaxing Labor Day weekend in Marinette MI.

I taught a few sailing classes in the Twin Cities, but most of my work this summer and into September was in Bayfield WI and the beautiful Apostle Islands. I ventured farther out this year to explore more of the islands and expanded my personal knowledge of where to anchor and what’s possible given the wind and weather. I enjoyed several performances at Big Top Chautauqua, not missing the opportunity to see Peter Noone from Herman’s Hermits, a throwback to the 60’s!?! Returning in October for Applefest, I felt like a quasi-resident after spending so much time there.

Fall was filled with me taking more classes, visiting my niece Laura in LA along with Brian, her husband of three years, and trip planning. My nephew, Justin and I are headed to India right after Christmas for three weeks—Taj Mahal here we come!

That’s my annual travelogue. I hope you’ve enjoyed life as much as I have this year, and are truly happy. After all, life is too short to spend it any other way.