The Post Office Catterpillar Farm

Yesterday one of the monks and I walked through the network of paths through the fields to reach the post office. When we got there we found there was nobody in. (It was Sunday of course.) The post office is strange enough because it sits in the middle of a field, but if you go inside, you see two shelves and part of the ground laden with leaves. The first thing you're aware of is a very faint munching sound, before you realise that on top of the leaves are thousands of little catterpillars, all scoffing away. They're used as a local enterprise to make silk, and a couple had already spun their silk cocoons. But here were about 100,000 catterpillars, eating, in the village post office.

Fear of Insects

My fear of insects has gone from virtually none to a constant underlying sense of paranoia. The monastery is insectopia. One day I watched my bathroom become infested with ants before my eyes. In the space of about a second they all pored out of a hole in the wall, each one holding a tiny little egg. But it's not really the ants that bother me.
One night while checking the practicalities of having guests in my room I found a little scorpion under my matress. Which was nice. I had been sleeping on top of a scorpion. It's gone now. Whether it's still in my room or not I don't know. I have pressed my matress quite firmly up against the wall though so it doesn't snuggle up next to me.

Before I came to India I knew that the most painful sting in the world belonged to some wasp which lives in the jungle. On a trek up a forest path I came across a small managerie of wasps. I didn't know if the wasp with the painful sting even lived in India, but I decided it propbably did, and therefore one of these wasps must be that kind of wasp. There was one big one which was yellow all over with long legs sharing a leaf with a huge red one, and one other circling their plant. (I later found out it wasn't the yellow long legged one since I watched one in the village which had landed on the ground on its back and couldn't get up again, so I decided that the most powerful sting in the world couldn't have been entrusted to something so stupid.) I tried to take a picture of them, but was scared in case I annoyed them with the flash and was stung by the vicious jungle wasp.

Today I was walking down a dried up river bed where I thought it would be nice to read, since it was leafy and shady and cool. However as I was walking along I got ensnared by a strand of spider silk. I stepped back, an looked for the web. It was next to my head and on it was a huge red black and yellow spider, about the size of my hand, sitting watching me from above.

Puruwala

I went exploring the other day so I know a lot more about where I live now. It's three sides farmland anmd one side forest, and properly rural. It reminds me a little bit of the jungle book. The fields are small and owned by the people who live in the houses next to them. There are cows everywhere. Each house has an average of about 4 cows.
I went up the prayer flag hill, which was modest compared to the one at the nunnery, but still nice, and from there you had a view of the river and its entire floodplain. I also went exploring up the road a bit. The road up from the village is one of these roads which are carved into the side of the hill and wind all the way up it. When you reach the top it takes you into the middle of proper tropical jungle, with fluorescent green leaves and creeping vines, where I saw monkeys (in the wild). The road wound along the top of a ridge next to a valley, and on the opposite face of the valley, I watched an Indian lady who was cutting up and collecting undergrowth from on a sheer slope, and teetering on the edge of a 30m high drop of bare soil where the vegetation had given way under a land slide.
Today I was warned if I go up to the net village, up the hill I must not go into a house for tea, because they will drug me and steal all my stuff. So I won't be doing that.
Still I really don't want to leave this place so soon and I'm going to try and arrange to stay here over the nexty two months while the monks go away.

2 Month Holiday

Big news everyone.
The monks have just informed me that they are going away and leaving the monastery empty for to months while they go to Dehradun to recieve the teachings of his holiness Sakia Trinsen. So I will be redundant and untied to travel where I like. There is a chance that I might get put into another completely different monastery, but at the moment it's looking like I'm heading up North to see all my friends in Daramsala, Shimla, Manali...
It was a bit of a shock at first. It's not often something that big gets announced out of the blue. But I'm really excited now. Who knows where I'll be in a few weeks?
We'll have to wait and see. You could never really predict that far ahead over here.

Indian Bus Travel is Rubbish

The other night I was literally dumped by the bus driver about 5 miles away from Puruwala. He drove us to some obscure little town and then told everyone to get off. So I had to walk the rest of the journey through the pitch black Indian countryside.
That's the main reason why I hate Indian buses. But not the only.

You Can Never Fill a Rickshaw

I'm in Paonta Sahib right now, and I got here in a vickrim with 20 people in it!
That's 20 people in the space of a ford escort, with the horse power of a moped.

Four on each seat in the back, two children on their mother's lap, five people on the driver's lap, four people hanging on to the outside.

I also just had an hour long haircut and shave at a barbers.

I was in Dehradun the other week. I think its a far better city than Delhi. The main place is Polton Bazaar, which is next to the big clock tower. Its a proper Indian bazaar which sells all sorts of stuff like whistles and filthy clothes. You can usually see a cloud of pink candyfloss floating above the crowd, before you find out its attached to a stick and there's a man trying to sell it. The beggars there are even more desperate, and quite violent at times, which is really sad to see. There's also a chicken street which sells nothing but eggs, so its got shop after shop of hens in cages laying. I don't spend much time there though because its so smelly.

I was Paltan bazaar, shopping, looking around, when we saw fireworks up ahead. We went over to find out it was a big Hindu festival parade. There were men with big tubas and people dressed up as Gods on big carnival floats, and people throwing pink chalk everywhere. Several little boys tried to "pink" us. We tried to run, but we couldn't hide, and eventually we resigned to our fate of being absolutely covered in pink. We were then grabbed, somehow, and (I don't even remember how I got there) were suddenly in the middle of a Hindu parade, dancing with Indian men. They were loving it. So I was shaking hands with all these pink Hindu revellers, while dancing Indian style. Then a cameraman started filming us. I got separated from the girls I was with, but went back to find one dancing with an oxe, the other with a skeleton.

Next day at Toral's house we did Yoga. It wasn't spiritual, it was horrible. And it gave me back pain.

So we had fun in Dehradun, but I was really glad to get back to my quiet monastery.

The Local Elephant

I have seen the local elephant twice now. Its got geenish blue Hindu patterns all over its face, so I think its a very spiritual elephant. It's ridden by a man who sits cross legged on a crate on its back whith a whicp to keep the flies off his face. I saw it once strolling about the farm next to me, and a second time when we had to squeeze past it on the bus back from the town.

My Nepalese Friend

T very kindlyhere's a Nepalese fellow who lives in the room next to me, who behaves rather endearingly. He enjoys showing off his educational prowess by counting really loud from 1-10 in English whenever he's around me. He also sings twinkle twinkle little star, which always makes me laugh, much to his satisfaction. He's my friend by now, and he very kindly enjoys serving me tea and dinner. So in a way I've got room service in my monastery.
We often have long games of flicky snooker in the evening, and he shares my enthusiasm for the lightning at night.

rain storm

I don't think I'll ever see weather like I did the other night.
All day the mountains had been rumbling away. Every night in the monastery the trees sparkle like Christmas trees with all the fireflies, and massive bats fly about at screech at each other. Tonight though the sky was flashing like a strobe light. No rain and no thunder, just really bright flashes every 30 secnds or so. All this was happening, and we were hanging around outside, when a sort of far off rumble suddenly started. The monks, like dogs before an earthquake, went mental and all scattered and ran inside. About a minute later, and in the space of about a second this gale force wind got up. There was still no rain, just a huge wind. Me and the Nepalese groundkeeper were watching from the balcony, when a whole half of the tree across from us was ripped off and fell to the ground. The was the sound of windows smashing all over the place. The Nepalese fellow was now howling like a dog and making animal noises. And then in another surge the wind suddenly got up even more. About 5 minutes later the rain started, as suddenly as the wind had. And it came down in torrents.
Next morning was carnage.

Tibet away from Tibet

I'm not going to make a fuss about it, or join a rally, but Tibet should not be part of China, in a similar way to how South Ossetia should be Russian. The people here are Tibetan, study Tibetan philosophy all day, and live in a tibetan building near an all Tibetan villiage. Its really impressive how they've created a real home away from home.
The monks, being as selfless as they are, acknowledge that the Chinese have problems, in that if they give up Tibet, they must give up other parts of the country as well.
The other day, the local school put on a demonstration of Tibetan culture, lead by the kids, but they didn't do any singing or dancing like they meant to, because they were mourning the recent killings of 20 or 30 of their Tibetan cousins.

I'm in India Now

I have just arrived in the proper country of India. I arrived here in an absolute death cab, even by Indian standards, which tore through 2 hours of winding roads uphill through thick jungle, from the nearest town- Dehra Dun. And then in the middle of nowhere we drew up to this Himalayan palace, complete with a fully decorated Bhuddist temple.
The pace of life here is almost at a halt. The monks are really great boys, all of them. Smile at them and they'l smile back in the nicest, most genuine way. There is tea 6 times a day, including butter tea (literally just butter and tea). Right now there are 4 days of "holy days" during which they claim to be "partying". They are playing badminton and basketball most of the day, and are having extra helpings of food and tea. Life really is that simple up here. It makes for very easy living.
The abbot (head monk) is not like I expected- an elderly, wise man with a beard, but a young, quite chunky, strong man. He has magical powers of teleportation and the ability to milk a moving yak. He does not speak English however, so Mr Tseng Tashi shows me around, and is very accomodating.
Round about the monastery are lots of simple (not primitive, primitive implies aspirations of progress) houses and a small shop which sells crisps and juice, and has about 5 men who are there playing a board game all day, every day.
I am seated in a small cyber-hut with a sort of Carribean feel. The internet is awful but the man is giving me free fruit.

Leaving Delhi Behind

On the train there was a bit of time to stop and get your head together, a luxury you don't get in Delhi. I think Delhi is a product of having too many people with not enough to do. People mill about with no real sense of purpose, like you'd get in London.
You see a lot of little things which make you laugh, like a whole family of 5 on a motorbike, in descending height order. Apparently it is compulsory to wear a helmet (except Sikhs, who never cut their hair, and therefore have a natural protective cusion round their heads.) But despite this I've seen about 1 helmet per thousand motorbikes.

I was scammed in a big way by a cobra man. He put a snake on my neck and did the snake charming thing with a cobra in a basket. I paid Rs300 for that, (thats about 5 pounds) which is too much even in Britain. Apparently it was only worth Rs 10, as I was told by some nice IT students afterwards. Things like that are a big learning curve though.

Even the comparitively clinical YMCA was unpredictable at times. The last day we stayed there, they held the VIIth Delhi state "Mr Y" bodybuilding competition. There was a huge crowd, and they were absolutely loving it, but the biggest cheer was for us, when some of the girls were seen watching from the first floor window... they went wild.
They love white girls here. We were doing the tourist trail the other day. While we were in Red Fort, which was amazing and the biggest building you could think of, we were held up half an hour by men wanting their photos taken with girls.

Delhi is a very hectic place.

Poor people get lost in Delhi

Me and a couple of the other guys all felt the same thing about the poverty on the streets in Delhi- not so much pity as frustration. We found it just annoyed us more than anything. The reason, I think was, that it was completely out of our hands. The thing about Delhi is its like a swarm. What can you do about a couple of sick members of a huge swarm? The frustration we felt was the same as when something is completely out of control. I think the problem has spiralled out of anyones hands.