It was long, but I did enjoy the drive from Talassery to Bangalore. The scenery kept me glued to the window for hours. And Miriam, a lively French girl my age sitting in front of me, was game enough to take my camera and snap away for me.
The day was misty and at times rainy, lending the alternating views of mountains and deep valleys a mystical quality. Rice fields gave way to tea and coffee plantations and bamboo forests. There was still enough daylight to photograph the two monkeys sitting on a wall, but it was nighttime when we spotted an elephant herd barely visible amongst the trees.
Whenever our convoy drove through a village or town, people would look at us and waive and, like children on a school field trip, we would excitedly waive back and laugh.
In the early evening Amma’s car overtook us and we all waived like mad. By the time we found a suitable place to stop, a field five hours out from Bangalore, it was after eight o’clock in the evening. Before most of us had got off the buses, lights and sound system were already in place and dinner was being cooked in a huge pot on a fire pit in the ground.
Sitting on the ground around Amma, we sang Indian Bhajans for an hour or so, while dinner was cooking. It was a special time, away from the crowds, with Amma all to ourselves.
But we still had a long way to go and all too soon it seemed, it was time to drive on.
It was almost three in the morning when our buses pulled into the courtyard of Amma’s engineering school and Ashram in Bangalore. Quickly grabbing our bags and backpacks, we went to find our rooms and then went through the routine of putting up our mosquito nets and unpacking our bed rolls. After a bucket shower, I found my Alka-Seltzer Plus from my case and dissolved it in a cup of water before drinking it. On the last stretch of the drive, I had started to feel unwell, my throat hurt and I felt feverish. The alka seltzer would help me sleep, and tomorrow would be another day. But the following day I felt really ill and I went to see the doctor, who after examining me, told me that I had pharyngitis and put me on antibiotics.
What started my latest bout of crying was discovering that my newly acquired Indian cell phone will not allow me to make any outgoing calls. It is fully charged, both battery and money wise. I have spoken to a countless number of people about it, yet no one can do anything . And because I have been sick, I haven’t been able to go and find an internet place and email my husband to please call me. And so I cried, and I asked myself why I was crying. Well, I am on a diet! I have given up (for the time being) everything that I am familiar with, and everyone I love. And I don't like it.
When my mother's younger brother, my uncle Giovanni, heard that I was going to India, he asked me why.
“Because I want to be free. Free from being dependent on external things for my happiness. I want to learn to be happy whether I am sleeping on the floor or on a bed. I don’t want to be dependent on food, on people, on anything. I want to be able to enjoy something if it is there, and not mind if it is not,” I explained. He listened attentively and wished me luck but he also reminded me of an Italian saying which says that it is easy to go: " Dalle stalle alle stelle" - from a hovel to the stars - but not the other way around.
He is right of course, and I am suffering from severe withdrawal symptoms. One thing that I am grateful for is that I am not hungry most of the time. It is almost lunchtime now, and I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast yesterday, other than a couple of sweet chais and the water of a coconut. Thank goodness, because I am sick of Indian food for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Not that it isn’t good, on the contrary it is delicious, but I would love a nice big salad, maybe some nice roast vegetables with some couscous. Right, enough of that.
I would also love a nice latte and the comfort of my favourite armchair. But no latte today, or tomorrow either, or anytime soon. I have discovered that I really do not like crowds. And that is tough, because wherever Amma goes, there are huge crowds and since I am travelling with Amma, I won’t be able to get away from them until the end of the tour in Calcutta at the end of March, but who knows, by then I might have learned not to mind.
And actually who knows what else I might have learned by then. But the thing is - that is then and this is now and it is only the middle of February. Tomorrow we leave for Mangalore and I almost look forward to the bus drive, sitting comfortably and chatting with my Neapolitan bus companion. I don't feel as introspective as I did when we left Amritapuri.
The day was misty and at times rainy, lending the alternating views of mountains and deep valleys a mystical quality. Rice fields gave way to tea and coffee plantations and bamboo forests. There was still enough daylight to photograph the two monkeys sitting on a wall, but it was nighttime when we spotted an elephant herd barely visible amongst the trees.
Whenever our convoy drove through a village or town, people would look at us and waive and, like children on a school field trip, we would excitedly waive back and laugh.
In the early evening Amma’s car overtook us and we all waived like mad. By the time we found a suitable place to stop, a field five hours out from Bangalore, it was after eight o’clock in the evening. Before most of us had got off the buses, lights and sound system were already in place and dinner was being cooked in a huge pot on a fire pit in the ground.
Sitting on the ground around Amma, we sang Indian Bhajans for an hour or so, while dinner was cooking. It was a special time, away from the crowds, with Amma all to ourselves.
But we still had a long way to go and all too soon it seemed, it was time to drive on.
It was almost three in the morning when our buses pulled into the courtyard of Amma’s engineering school and Ashram in Bangalore. Quickly grabbing our bags and backpacks, we went to find our rooms and then went through the routine of putting up our mosquito nets and unpacking our bed rolls. After a bucket shower, I found my Alka-Seltzer Plus from my case and dissolved it in a cup of water before drinking it. On the last stretch of the drive, I had started to feel unwell, my throat hurt and I felt feverish. The alka seltzer would help me sleep, and tomorrow would be another day. But the following day I felt really ill and I went to see the doctor, who after examining me, told me that I had pharyngitis and put me on antibiotics.
What started my latest bout of crying was discovering that my newly acquired Indian cell phone will not allow me to make any outgoing calls. It is fully charged, both battery and money wise. I have spoken to a countless number of people about it, yet no one can do anything . And because I have been sick, I haven’t been able to go and find an internet place and email my husband to please call me. And so I cried, and I asked myself why I was crying. Well, I am on a diet! I have given up (for the time being) everything that I am familiar with, and everyone I love. And I don't like it.
When my mother's younger brother, my uncle Giovanni, heard that I was going to India, he asked me why.
“Because I want to be free. Free from being dependent on external things for my happiness. I want to learn to be happy whether I am sleeping on the floor or on a bed. I don’t want to be dependent on food, on people, on anything. I want to be able to enjoy something if it is there, and not mind if it is not,” I explained. He listened attentively and wished me luck but he also reminded me of an Italian saying which says that it is easy to go: " Dalle stalle alle stelle" - from a hovel to the stars - but not the other way around.
He is right of course, and I am suffering from severe withdrawal symptoms. One thing that I am grateful for is that I am not hungry most of the time. It is almost lunchtime now, and I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast yesterday, other than a couple of sweet chais and the water of a coconut. Thank goodness, because I am sick of Indian food for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Not that it isn’t good, on the contrary it is delicious, but I would love a nice big salad, maybe some nice roast vegetables with some couscous. Right, enough of that.
I would also love a nice latte and the comfort of my favourite armchair. But no latte today, or tomorrow either, or anytime soon. I have discovered that I really do not like crowds. And that is tough, because wherever Amma goes, there are huge crowds and since I am travelling with Amma, I won’t be able to get away from them until the end of the tour in Calcutta at the end of March, but who knows, by then I might have learned not to mind.
And actually who knows what else I might have learned by then. But the thing is - that is then and this is now and it is only the middle of February. Tomorrow we leave for Mangalore and I almost look forward to the bus drive, sitting comfortably and chatting with my Neapolitan bus companion. I don't feel as introspective as I did when we left Amritapuri.
Bye for now,
Esmeralda
PS Thank you to all my friends who have emailed me their encouragement. It has given me a big boost. Being able to go on the internet has also helped, and sharing a rickshaw with my new German friends (the doctors) was fun. Rickshaw drivers are something else. They are not afraid of big buses, they slide right underneath them, or so it seems.
Oh well.
Oh well.
2 comments:
the drive sounds like it was wonderful.
keep on writing, i love reading about what you're up to.
I agree with Florentina - keep on writing and tell us about all your adventures - we want to know the good and the bad so we can share it with you. Lots of Love Bradders xxx
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