The Turners took the early-morning train to Rishikesh this past weekend...the birthplace of yoga and home to the Beatles' ashram in the foothills of the Himalayas. Rishikesh is about 250 kilometers north of Delhi. I'm still not firm on the metric system, but I think that's just shy of one thousand miles...The train was 1st-class all the way, but only in the sense that we booked a 1st class ticket and the ticket read first class. I mean, plenty of leg room and no short supply of "Rail Neer" Bottled Water (which was always suspiciously filled to the brim), but warm eye compresses, personal masseusses and fully-reclining seats it was not (not that I've ever enjoyed any of those luxuries, but one might expect that in "1st Class"). Whilst on the train, I peeked out a window and witnessed a red monkey riding a dog. India....is.....awesome.
Once we arrived in Haridwar (the nearest train station to Rishikesh), we hopped in the guest house-reserved vehicles for the 60-minute car ride to Rishikesh. Only one of the vehicle's ACs was working (close to 90 Degrees out), so we piled (safely) all of the kids (except Eli, 'cause he's tough!) into one vehicle and drove into the mountains. Even while perilously balanced on a cliffside roadway, without barriers, evidencing a recent landslide, the driver operated the vehicle like he was on the streets of Delhi. If Benny Franklin is correct and experience does in fact keep a dear school and fools will learn in no other....well, then, too many (not all, relax) Indians spend a ton of time in school. It's a trial and error culture..."Whoops, okay, looks like I wasn't fast enough to beat that bus." Needless to say, we parents requested the drivers save their experimentation for when they were driving solo...
We journeyed with an Israeli family and a Spanish-Colombo-German family to a small guest house on the banks of the Ganges river. The guest house was secluded, allowing all of the kids to run free, like a pack of feral dogs. We were surrounded by Languor monkeys and packs of red monkeys. The Languor monkeys (large, silver-haired, black-faced monkeys) would move into the area first, mess around for a day or so and generally just enjoy themselves. The red monkeys, even here in Delhi, are deathly afraid of the Languor monkeys (as many would be), so we never saw the two species sharing a cup of tea (unusual in India). The Languor monkeys eventually moved along. Soon after, as if signaled by a scout, the red monkeys moved into the area...a herd of red monkeys (what is a pack of monkeys called? gaggle, murder, posse?), all sizes and ages (to include babies - How frickin' precious were they?), began to play and generally wreak havoc. The monkeys would test their boundaries, and a few came right up to the guest house (pictures to come). Amazing, really...our little cousins (fossil record!). Also frequently visiting the guest house were cows...yes, a HERD of cows. We actually saw our first "traditional" looking cow...a white cow with black spots. Awesome. The first one of its kind we've seen in India. It must have been especially revered.
There was no "to-do" list, no "to-see" list...the weekend was designed for quiet reflection, relaxation and meditation. Or as much of that as was possible with eight "feral" kids running around (okay, six...two were infants...but they looked feral). We napped and we ate (but not much - the owner of the guest house, a friendly British chap, gave up all "material possessions," to include his taste buds, and rarely offered his guests anything other than vegetarian "cuisine." I mean, what about a little barbequed red monkey, Stevie? I can tell you, they're not endangered -- pigeons of the monkey family, they were). We often found ourselves at the banks of the Ganges, lounging in the rocky, riverside pools and waterfalls. The water was clean and cold, which felt great in the midday heat. We were far enough north that the Ganges was actually very clean...or cleaner. No bloated, floating corpses...no feces (or at least well-dissolved feces)...and a steady current carrying the occasional drowned white-water-rafter quickly downriver (I said no "bloated" corpses...the rafters were fresh). Just down the hill from the guest house, near the basking pools, there was a "jumpin' rock"...just like American jumpin' rocks. The idea was that one would climb to the top of this big ole rock (which always looked deceptively lower from the bottom) and then, once atop the rock, one would fling themself into the cold, deep river below. It sounded like such a good idea that I jumped seven whole times...Julie took second with three jumps, and the other adults rounded it out with single jumps each (ranked on style points). While one "jumper" called it a "religious experience," Julie just called it "jumping from a rock into a river." I fell in the middle...it was a rock and it was a river, but it was a big rock and it was a cold river. The river, also, was the Ganges...the frickin' Ganges, y'all!! I mean, some pretty cool stuff has happened in and along the Ganges (I am not referring to the frequent defecation of millions of Indians). So, yes, to me jumping from a big rock into a very cold Ganges, while not necessarily allowing me to hear the voice of God or the voices of gods or showing me the way to center, was a pretty awesome experience. On my sixth jump, I allowed myself to drift downriver until I reached a steep, sandy bank. Once there, I filled a plastic water bottle with all of the blessed Ganges sand it could carry. Again, awesomeness.
The kids had an absolute blast, actually asking if we could "live there." How many times did I say that about some wicked awesome vacation spot growing up? I wanted to live and/or work at every place we went...I still might retire to Disney World. So, it was cute to hear it from my kids' lips. Olivia and Eli both made some new friends and I managed not to jeopardize the new alliances by saying something stupid (See Phuket blog entry). It was a short trip, but a special one. While nearly impossible to "find center" (let's be honest) with the kids about, there was a certain degree of zen achieved merely by "existing" for a weekend...just being, together, separate...separate but together, enjoying each other's company and one's own company. It was refreshing to wake up and not have to move, not have to plan...it was nice for all of us just to wake up, roll out of bed, stumble down to the "cafe" and welcome the new day, red monkeys, mooing cows and all.
Delhi...OUT!!!
Someday, perhaps someday, our Olivia will be dancing at the Met...or its equivalent in Paris, London or Moscow (I'm new to the world of Ballet). Last night was maybe the first of many nights...we fought Olivia into her tu-tu (performance anxiety), Olivia's hair was done, we gussied ourselves up, I fetched the post-recital flowers and we were off to the Ballet!
