Saturday morning I got up early and headed off to the main bus depot to catch an express bus to Pundicherri, about 60 miles south of here. The bus ride cost $1.25 and took 2 ½ hours. I sat behind the driver with lots of leg room, sharing my seat with two other Indian women who cast secret glances at me when they thought I wasn’t looking. The ride was straight down ECR (East Coast Road)and as we passed through the southern “suburbs” of the city we hit open space with palm trees and simple houses made of fronds and mud. We passed rice paddies all set to go, but dry as a bone. Crossing rivers I was men poling boats as they cast and pulled in their nets. There was a cool breeze coming in the window, and it was a comfortable and pleasant ride. No matter how small the collection of houses was there was always a temple prominently placed.

We pulled into Pundicherry and I was surprised at how large a city it was. There were many dealers in antique furniture on the outskirts, and I longed for a car to go and browse there. As soon as I stepped off there was a young man to offer his services of an autorickshaw to take me to my hotel. I stepped inside and was transported out of the hustle and bustle into the French Quarter, free of trash and with orderly streets—there were even signs that requested “No horns”. Remarkable. I crossed through the gated entrance to the Park Guest House, run by Auroville, where I was sternly told to read the agreement, which said “no tobacco, no alcohol” before they would register me. No problem there. They lock the gate at 10:30. I was shown to my room—two twin beds , a desk, table, chair, ceiling fan and balcony overlooking the Ocean and The Garden of Positive Vibrations. Indescribable beauty. I took a quick shower and headed out along the Promanade. Passing the Tourism office I got a map and the young man Anthony, showed me things I would want to be sure to see. The city is an old French settlement, and it left the beauty of France behind. Everything was painted in beautiful colors, and it did indeed feel like a mini-Nice. There was a large monument to Ghandi in the middle of the walk along the shore, and I turned left into the town.

I visited a museum for 5 cents and saw stone carvings and beads and vessels gathered near-by at Arikamedu. The history dates back to the 2^nd century B.C. It was used a port for trade with the Romans and Greco –Romans. Wine, garum sauce and olive oil were imported and the exports must have included textile, beads, semiprecious gems, glass and shell bangles. The only thing there now are perpendicular walls and a mission house. On to the Tamil Nadu section of town, more honking, lots of street vendors of incredible wares. I had only brought about 15 dollars with me, and so was freed from the idea of shopping, and could honestly answer that I had no money—just enough to buy my two sisters a gift, which I will enjoy until I send them off. I was looking into a small temple in the main square when I was beaconed to enter by 2 laughing women. The puja fired up the incense and blessed me and gave me the red dot on my forehead (Is it made of crushed flowers?) and mint and sugar crystals to eat and a ladle of water to drink. He took a large bell and covered my head with it as he uttered prayers. I went to put some rupees in the plate but was waved away. A first. The women pinned a jasmine garland into my hair, gave me kisses and laughing watched me as I put my shoes back on to leave. Everywhere I went I was greeted with “Hello, Madame. What is your good name?” and each of them would introduce themselves to me as I shook their hand. Lovely.

I leisurely strolled the streets back to the Guesthouse where I collected my bathing suit and headed beyond the Promanade to swim—yes! In my suit! I was floating on my back for an unknown amount of time when I heard the familiar, “Hello, Madame!” A young boy was treading water next to me. Indians are not known to be good swimmers, and women rarely if ever swim. “Well, hello,” I answered. We ex- changed names, but skipped the hand shake, and the two of us swam for a long while, gradually heading in body surfing on the waves. One wave grabbed me and tumbled me violently about, like a rag doll by Winnie. I felt the boys body crash into mine and we were tossed upon the shore laughing and gasping. “You are so super to me, Madame,” he said as we parted. What does it take? Recognition only. I went back and spent the afternoon reading Eckard Tolle in the Garden of Positive Vibrations. It has left me in a quandary—what to do without an ego. I am finding myself passionate about teaching here, and yes, that does seem to have an element of my ego involved. I don’t think that is the driving force, but I am still watching and questioning. I will take him along next week when I return. I think he must have written the book in this garden. Carol Adleman would be quite at home with the beautiful use of flower, water and rock.

On my way to dinner, I stopped at a Tibetan store, took my sandels off and entered a little room about 10 x 12. It was full of beautiful Buddhas, and hindi gods, jewelry. I had trouble focusing on anything, and sat down. Kameer spoke softly to me, asking me what I was doing there, and how I found it.
I explained that I had no money. He took out a prayer bowl made of 7 metals, for the 7 chakras in the body. He took a large round paddle covered with red material and slowly ran it around the rim of the bowl. Like fine crystal glassware it started to sing. The absolutely most beautiful perfect sound came out and filled the room. He took a purple velvet pillow and rested it on my head and did the same. I could feel the vibrations in my feet. I bent over and rested my hands on the chair and he placed the bowl on my lower back and gonged it—my neck, and then I stood in the bowl as he gonged it vigorously—I could feel the vibration in my teeth. I was spellbound. Such a gentle loving man with no ulterior motive, other than healing and love. I thought of my friend Kathy, and sent these vibrations across the universe to her. This practice is used for healing—to align the centers of energy in the body.I look forward to returning to his shop. A life changing experience.

I ate a meal of vegetable curry and garlic naan with fresh lime juice for dinner on the roof of a restaurant overlooking the sea. Entranced by the events of the day, and totally satisfied and happy.

The sound of the surf was rhythmic and constant all night as I slept under the ceiling fan. In the morning I swam again, and magically there was my young friend. He and I swam to the laughter of others and drew a crowd. The people were very concerned about me being in the sun. I told them I wanted to be as dark as they were, and they laughed some more. I had collected a few shells, and so they appeared in a large pile on my cloth. The boys wanted to take me for a boat ride, but I declined. The boats there are merely large timbers lashed together which they pole along—maybe next time.

I sat in the garden before I left for the Botanical Garden—preserved since 1856. I sat down on a granite bench and as I sat silently I realized that there 100s of large fruit bats everywhere hanging from the trees. Why do they hang upside down? I laughed aloud.

Walking with my bags I tripped and fell—in fact it felt as though I flew, and my bags spilled out in front of me. A huge group of people rushed to me with concern, collecting my things for me and helping me up. I feel as though the Indian people are caring for me, watching over me as though a child. I took the afternoon bus home—again a pleasant experience. I was surprised at how exhausted I was when I returned. I have a series of little red dots scattered on my body—bed bugs I think.

I already paid to stay there again next Friday to have 2 days there. I plan to go to Auroville for a day. Check out their web site. Aurowille was envisioned as a Universal Town, where people from different nationalities, faiths and beliefs can live in peace and harmony. It is an attempt to realize the new society as envisioned by Sri Aurobindo and the Mother, a French artist who was his disciple. Nearly 2000 people from 35 countries are living here to realize human unity and transformation of consciousness. Sri Aurobindo was a revolutionary who turned poet and teacher. His spirit feels very present at the guest house and his teachings are pure love and acceptance.

School

I am delighted with everything about the school. (www.aisch.org) I am teaching in a new third classroom as the school is growing. I inherited an absolutely naked large room with big windows. Nothing to sort through, or figure out what it is. A shipment of supplies is supposedly on the way but until then I investigated the cast offs, and the storerooms and found tables and stools, book cases converted to cubbies, and large cardboard boxes covered with colored paper to make it beautiful. New bright pillows appeared and I brought my PACE flag from Italy, and the UN flag which I had hung from the high ceilings. Bright bulletin boards, prayer flags, and I am home. I have 14 students, 8 Korean, a boy from Denmark, a German girl, British boy, Chicano girl, and an American boy, and one Indian boy. I was troubled at the lack of Indian kids, until I learned that the Indian government passed a law against Indian nationals coming to our school. They must attend Indian schools—so my conscience rested. The staff is more than half local hires, and there are other teachers from all over the world. The American teachers here are travelers and have taught in many different countries—a highly skilled and competent group. The director of the school is an older American who has been here for 6 years. I love him. Actually, everyone I work with is friendly, helpful and very professional. There are about 850 kids I think. It is an absolute jewel of a job. The school facilities are state of the art—and there seems to be a flush budget and materials needed are to be had. We follow a rigorous academic curriculum and have the means to do so. I have a long morning meeting everyday, and close with silence. The children are incredibly sweet and so pleased with everything we do. We just read The Big Fitz—about the Edmund Fitzgerald sinking, and the great lakes. A great teacher, Bruce, comes in to help with the ESL kids 3 times a week, and they have a special class daily. This provides wonderful time to have discussions and individual time with kids. I couldn’t be happier.

After school I have a group of K-2 kids for Drama Club 2 times a week. We will do a performance at the end. 18 kids. It is a lot of fun.

The school has over 50% Korean. They are here primarily for the auto industry. I am learning as much about Koreans as Indians—well, not really, but a lot. Last week was Indian independence day—the same day as Korean independence day.

There is a courtyard in the school with fountains, and palms and a lot of flowering bushes and trees there. It feels like the jungle. There is a constant staff of people sweeping and mopping the floors, twice daily. Tuesday is the back to school night so I will get to meet all of the parents. I am going to do a slide show of the kids at work—that is sure to win their hearts.

Tiruvannamalai

We rode another half hour to the town of Tiruvannamalai, population 120,000. We drove through the town and marveled at the amount of men dressed in orange cloth with dread locks. Most of them had long beards and hair. Many carried sticks, but nothing else. We arrived at our hotel, a new one out side of town and were met with a large impressive crew of “room service” guys who wanted to be of service. Couldn’t they carry my purse? Unlock the door? They showed us to our rooms, and came in with us to show us how to turn on the lights, flush the miraculous western toilet, turn on the air conditioner, the faucet to the sink! “Room service, Madame!” And how! IT was early afternoon and we were going to meet to go to dinner together at 6:30, so another woman and I decided to take a walk. I was eager to see those guys in orange again. I got my wish. The people along the road were extremely friendly and all wanted their pictures taken. We met some women sitting at an empty tank (for holy bathing) and they were crazy for us. We took their pictures and they kissed us, and we kidded them. I noticed that their teeth and mouths were very red, stained from the beetle nut they were chewing—which makes you stoned. As we walked, I saw so many things. A small shop made of fronds with a TV on it showing Ghandi, and men watching it. We saw these many man made pools (tanks) and next to them what appeared to us to be above ground tombs—but Hindis cremate their dead. They were richly painted, and some of them even had photos printed on the plaster. There were many monkeys there—sitting on the stones and the colored platforms watching us—following us at a safe distance through the brush. We saw a funeral, and they took the person and covered him with dirt above ground—there was another hump in front of him. We later found out that the tombs are not tombs, but after people bath in the tank they go and rest on these platforms. The men we saw were Swamis, holy men that devote their lives to God. They don’t work but spend their lives meditating and had made a pilgrimage to this town from all over India. People feed them. Actually, we saw a man arrive on a bicycle and hand out rice cakes wrapped in newspapers to them. We bought many of these cakes to give to people begging. They cost about a penny a piece. The streets were lined with beggars on the way into town. Back the way we came out of the city and congestion to hear crickets! What a glorious sound. I went up to my room to take a shower, followed by the 4 room service guys. I went inside, and the doorbell to the room rang. I opened it. There they all were beaming at me, “Room service, Madame?” “Well, yes, I would like to buy a bottle of water.” They all nodded and giggled and took off down stairs. A few minutes later they were back with the water on a tray. I signed and they left. The door bell rang. “The water, Madame? Is the water fine?” “Yes thank you. The water is just fine.” I took my shower and went up to the roof. They followed me up. “Madame, please. Your job?” one inquired. I told them. They all nodded in agreement at what a fine idea this was. “Madame. Please. A photo with us?” Ahh, that was it! We took a series of photos, which absolutely made them fall down laughing, “One more?” Of course. After dinner it was a repeat. My roommate and I were talking about this as one of them casually walked by our window’s balcony. There was no where for him to go out there. He peeked in, “Room service, Madame?” I collapsed laughing.

In the morning we went back into the hustle of the town—literally hundreds of Swamis were there. We saw a large Ashram (Holy commune type community) dedicated to Ramana Maharshi (1879-1950.) HE lived for the last 20 year of his life there living in a series of caves. (More on him later.) There are over 100 temples in this town, the most famous is the Arunachaleswara Temple dedicated to Lord Siva and Parvati. It is located at the foot of Mt. Arunachala and is one of the largest temples in all of India with a 198’ 13 story beautifully sculptured gopuram and a thousand pillar hall. It was builts in 1502, but the inner part of the temple dates back to the 11th Century.The temple was awe inspiring. There were pilgrims everywhere traveling to the temple. It is enclosed in a tall stone wall with cows along the top. We checked our shoes at the door and filed in with thousands of others. In the courtyard, people were having family picnics and laying prostrate praying. There were carvings on all of the walls and statues everywhere. In all of this, the building was secondary. This really felt like holy ground, and the reverence and devotion the people felt was palpable. We were included in all of the blessings and left with white flour over our foreheads and red dots. I think I was elevated, and my feet did not touch the ground.

The legend is that Shiva appeared a\s a column of fire on Mt Arunachala creating the original symbol of the linga. The fire symbolizes Shiva’s light, which eradicates darkness and evil. I bought a necklace with the image on it and am wearing it.

After the temple we hiked up the mountain through the village where they have constructed temples at each of the 4 caves Sri Ramana Maharshi lived in. A young man, 14 guided us up the mountain and gave us a good history of it all in English. The view from the top was breath taking, partly because I was out of breath. Serious hiking in serious heat. If I had not taken to riding a bike here, I never would have made it. It was somehow a very mystical experience. The enormity of the spirituality with openness is profound. Even as a white foreigner I was embraced by the puja men, and blessed, and accepted. The notion of giving up desires as a basis and working for enlightenment is very interesting. Lots of thought on those to follow.