Let Go, Jump In

Theme song of this blog entry: Let Go, Frou Frou

Yesterday while perusing the spiritual bookshop in Pondicherry, I found a book on meditation for all types of people. I randomly opened to a page that was about letting go of expectations in order to free your mind. I think that was the lesson I learned yesterday: "Let go, jump in. There's beauty in the breakdown." Letting go of our innate desire to control is an art, and it's like I forget that sometimes it's best to just lay back and watch the scene unfold in front of your eyes.

We snagged a bus for 100 rupees to Pondicherry, a 3.5 hour drive for less than two dollars. Brief stops at toll booths allowed for streetside salesmen to hop on the bus and advertise their snacks for sale. I thought I smelled guava, and sure enough, the man next to us purchased a bag of guavas. It was too late for me to buy any but he could tell how excited I was and offered me one. It wasn't as good as the kind I've had in Hawaii, but it's the first guava I've eaten in probably 16 years.


We made it to Pondicherry, the French union territory in India where there is a wonderful blend of French-Indian culture. Kristina and I ate at a restaurant and ordered the most delicious dishes. Tomato soup that I could taste that it had been seasoned with Indian spices, fried eggplant in walnut sauce over jasmine rice, and veggie ratatouille. Everything had this lovely flavour of both cultures. The whole meal was probably less than ten dollars.

Our French-Indian meal. The ratatouille was melt-in-your-mouth soft and the eggplant in walnut sauce was a nice balance to the tomatoeyness of the ratatouille.

Minimal litter, salt-breezy air, few people, and French influence. Beautiful unique Pondicherry!

After the light meal, we walked down the beach which was almost completely deserted! Southern Indian people are afraid to go out before 4PM because they think it's too hot, and it's not tourism season. It was also a Wednesday afternoon. The beach was so clean! Litter had been kept to a minimum. We stopped at a French cafe and had croissants and the a deliciously lemon-zest and cinnamon bark iced espresso. We perused by a huge Gandhi statue and were courted by this silly Indian boy who was looking for a girlfriend. Neither of us sensed any danger, so the kid followed us around as we visited shops around the town. I never did manage to grab his name, although he daringly asked for a kiss when we said goodbye to him.

We passed a mall where Kerry recommended a piercing lounge, and I got my nose pierced for less than $3. Everything was sterile, it was comparably clean to the places I've been to in the USA. We also picked up some Indian flavors of sheesha for hookah. My piercer said Afzal brand is the second best brand for sheesha in India. I grabbed some unique flavors that you'd only be able to find in India (for Brock): Bombay pan masala, sweet lime, and cardamom.

We stopped in this great store that had the most beautiful collections of silver jewelry and scarves. The owners were Kashmiri, and were such a hoot. I told them I'd buy their entire store if I could. They kept trying to convert Kristina to Islam, and were so proud to be from Kashmir. The way you shop here is so interesting, you sit down and the shopowners serve you chai as you talk and chat and they show you whatever you're interested seeing. They were weighing the silver in order to price it, that's how I knew it was real. Their Pashmina wool scarves had breathtakingly intricate patterns and were so soft. Not to mention the bulky man was modeling them for me. Priced at 1200 rupees was pretty steep, I almost bought two but decided to wait because their credit card machine was broken. Kristina said that maybe it wasn't meant to be, and I'm glad she said that because the devil on my shoulder was telling me to buy them. Maybe I'll find some equally good quality ones for cheaper somewhere else. If not, looks like I'll be taking another trip to Pondicherry!

I had a hard time choosing between silver or scarves, and I picked silver.
This armband is 92.5% silver, and I figured I'd have it forever. I paid around $20 for it.
Also, notice the nosering :)

We never made it to Sri Aurobindo's ashram. I was way too distracted with other things, mainly the store of Kashmiri goofballs. I figured, I'm having way too much fun haggling with these guys to go do more tourist things. I love talking to people, meeting people, poking and prodding at brains and seeing how they work. There's so much ugliness about this country, so much pain and so much chaos, but there's something about the people of India that you can't help but fall in love with. I'll leave you guys with this quote from Shantaram that I read to Kristina. After living here for a year, she wholeheartedly agreed with it. It's impossible to make generalizations about an entire culture of people, but overall, it's a good summation. Pardon all the cursing.

"This is not England or New Zealand, or Australia, or wherever the fuck else. This is India, man. This is India. This is the land of the heart. This is where heart is king, man. The fuckin' heart. That's why you're free. That's why that cop gave you back your phoney passport. That's why you can walk around, and not get picked up, even though they know who you are. They could've fucked you, Lin. They could've taken your money, Khader's money, and let you go, and then get some other cops to bust you, and send you the fuck home. But they didn't do it, and they won't do it, because you got them in their heart, man, in their Indian fuckin' heart. They looked at all what you did here, and how the people in the slum love you, and they thought, Well, he fucked up in Australia, but he's done some good shit here. If he pays up, we'll let the fucker go. Because they're Indians, man. That's how we keep this crazy place together-- with the heart. It's the heart that keeps us together. There's no place with people like my people Lin. There's no heart like the Indian heart."