A Rare Valley

I've recently emerged from a rare valley in two senses of the word. I mentioned in the last entry that I would be visiting Hampi, a small town in a magical boulder-strewn landscape of banana plantations, freckled with more ruins, (a misnomer, as most were in surprisingly good shape) and temples still in use (more than 550 monuments), than I could have possibly explored in the measly three days that I was there.

I also found myself in a metaphorical valley, which even now I find hard to describe. Everything within me had sunk. My motivation was down, my spirit of adventure was down, my excitement of the next place, the next discovery, the next friend, were all just down.

Since my return to India, a yearning had been growing in my soul. Unidentifiable until a few weeks ago, but nonetheless heavy and concerning. Most of my blog entries and corespondances with friends and family have been filled with optimism and facination for everything around me, but an enigmatic feeling was demanding my attention and if I am to be entirely forthcoming, I thought I ought to share some of this with you :).

I finally realized that I needed peace. Yes, world peace would be nice, but I'm not running for Miss America. Inner peace is also somewhere on the list but what I needed is far less esoteric. I needed a little peace of mind and even more pressing, peace and quiet in my ears! Ha, having been in India for more than 8 months and most of that time spent on the move, various modes of transportation, friends houses, guesthouses, tents, waiting rooms, terminal platforms etc with no place to call my own. Without checkout times, someone waiting for me, time tables to review or tickets to book. No place absent from rickshaw touts or 'tour guides' or men shouting at you to follow them to a hotel for a commision, or every single product in their 5x10ft corner stall or did I mention a lovely Pashmina, "100% madam, cheap and best, I give you good price, first sale of the day, my good luck, please madam, looking is free, only look!". If I had a rupee for everytime someone hollared "Hello!" at me, not to me, at me, I could fund my trip. I would even take 50 paise for each horn honk/beep/blast/jingle and I would be a millionaire several times over - in USD. It has not mattered where I am; there is never a moment free of animal sounds, human sounds, traffic sounds, industrial sounds - noise. It is no wonder that this is the country that created yoga and meditation, where sadhus wander in search of enlightenment and hermits seek caves to escape the chaos (although I have my own theory of a natural magnetism that has developed in Indians. They seem to gravitate to each other, preferring to be shoulder to shoulder in an empty room than the personal bubble other societies deem necessary. What is the opposite of claustrophobia?)

All of this had been a weight increasing gradually despite the exciting day-to-day activities and warm, generous company. I felt as if I had no goal. That 2009 started aimlessly and question marks ahead were amassing faster than I could organize them. Travel, job, projects, relationships, potential relationships... I missed spending time with someone that actually knew me. Someone that understood me and shared more that a common travel schedule. You know, I missed being around my close friends. I, as shocking as it sounds even to me, needed some continuity in my life for a change.

One event suddenly accelerated the crescendo. With all of this and more, swirling viciously around in my head, a very dear friend of mine... decided I was no longer a dear friend of theirs. Saving you all the melodrama of heartache, I shall just say this came at a most inopportune time and indeed, I still feel a profound loss.

I battled each night with my inherent cheerfulness, sense of adventure and opportunity against this disconcerting angst and confusion.

My schedule had changed several times due to the cancellation of the wedding and twice the cancellation of a friend’s visit (and subsequent rescheduling) which only exacerbated the feeling of constant flux. With more time on my hands than expected, I talked myself into one last jaunt south to see Hampi, which I had wanted to see since the beginning of my trip, before I retreated north to Delhi. Thank Ganesh that I did, for it was in Hampi that I reached a stopping point in my decent, found peace however brief and could finally look up to see a little clarity versus the miasmic blur below.

Arriving in Hampi, I could tell it was absolutely my kind of place. Only one tenth of the sites are protected by the World Heritage Organization, so one could easily play Indian Jones and explore entire ancient complexes all alone. Perfect.

The first day, after checking out the main temple, I absconded to a hillock just outside town. Incredibly impressed with the sheer number of ruins, the explorer in me resurfaced. Around noon, I spotted a tiny temple of sorts, really just four granite pillars with a roof perched atop a huge pile of boulders. It looked difficult to reach, which not only appealed to my competitive side but also meant few others would be around. I set my compass.

It took me quite a while to find a viable way up and about half way there, hopping and climbing from rock to rock, I was stopped in my tracks by a family of monkeys. About 15-20 of them I would say, napping together, arms wrapped around each other. SO sweet! They paid me no attention while I snapped a few pictures until I suddenly noticed, having been glued to my camera lense, that one was inches away from my feet! Big curious eyes shone up at me and as I stepped backwards, several more of the younger monkeys gathered near. Instantly I realized I was on a tiny rock island and if the monkeys decided I was invading their grounds, I would be in trouble. With no loose rocks at my feet, the only thing I had to look like a weapon, was my wallet, Ha! I raised it as if to throw and they shrunk back but the longer that we stood there staring at each other, the more I realized they were not threatening me, they were purely curious. Soon, I allowed them to circle my feet, pinch my toes as if feeling the texture of the skin and pull at the elastic on my sandals. They were especially curious about my camera, their reflection in the lense and the flash. Ah, it was truly a rare interaction with animals in the wild, each demonstrating a distinct personality! I was enamoured by them. Eventually though, I slipped past them and continued up to my spot.
Secluded, yet in full view of the sunshine, the highest point in the area, with a marvellous view, I had been drawn here for a reason. I spent the next 4 hours here. Restless Thoughts kept cropping up, 'I should get a move on, wasting time, so much to explore', 'maybe I should go get a bite to eat or a bottle of water or check my email...’ I actually had to convince myself to stop moving. Stop thinking of things to fill the time and for once, just be. Slowly the feelings and ruminations that had settled like dust on my heart began to be swept up. In the relative quiet (though not silence), I allowed myself to do a little early spring cleaning :). I meditated, I sun bathed, I breathed, I even got up and danced to my ipod - it felt as though I was shooting a cheesy music video in this very unique setting :). And I smiled. I had reached a couple epiphanies and could finally start climbing back up (or literally back down since the sun was setting).


The next day I walked in a different direction, this time along a beautiful little river, temples nestled along the banks, villagers doing laundry and selling fresh fruit. I ventured upon a forgotten temple away from the rest and stepped inside. Taking my shoes off to feel the cool stone, the history beneath my feet. I walked through four or five doorways until I was in the inner sanctum sanctorum where the light was limited to a shaft above and glowed iridescently just like in a movie. And lo, silence! My ears rang, confused as they were, in the absence of sound. Absolute silence. The aura of sanctity and peace calmed my ears and soon, save for a bird chirp here and there, I could hear myself...

I wish I could bottle that place and carry it with me wherever I went, but it served it's purpose. I found it when I most needed it and it was like shutting down your system when it's on the fritz and rebooting. Starting fresh. It felt good.

On my last day, I had the morning to hike a little more, buy some fresh bananas and meet up with a friend of mine from Mumbai who had just arrived before I grabbed a bus to Goa, India's hippie coast. I spent several days on the beach in a small hut with a bunch of jolly Brits, swimming, hiking, watching movies, spotting dolphins, eating delicious shark and shopping at the famous flea market. Next stop was Pune for a night with a local chap to show me around, then Valentines Day spent on a 30hour train ride in which I boarded the wrong train to Delhi, but as I've been the recipient of many a wonderful Indian twists, a family including two boys around 20yrs old, sacrificed one of their berths for me and even bought me chocolate cake, wishing me a Happy Vday - what sweethearts! Yes, I was indeed on my way up :)

"India has a way of confounding you and still making you laugh about it." I read recently in the book, In Spite of the Gods. So true. I am now back in Delhi with my Austrian friends at their little oasis awaiting my friend's arrival on the 24th, which should serve to further clarify several pressing matters. After that, I have just a couple weeks before I board a jet plane back to the good ol' USofA! I am busy making plans to see a few friends, pick up a few gifts and enjoy a few of my favorite aspects of India before I leave. The rickshaw ride to the house, whizzing through traffic, the driver stopping for pan (an addictive minty concoction wrapped in a leaf, chewed for seemingly hours and requiring the repetetive ejection of red juice), even the beeping had become endearing again and I know I will sorely miss it.