Varkala - 5 January 2009

How did it get to be 5 January already? It’s just after midnight and I can’t sleep, so I’m out on the front porch listening to the waves crash on the shore and typing this blog entry so I don’t wake up my roommate. The moon is waxing and golden and casting a beautiful golden path of light on the sea. The guys in the restaurant next door are cleaning up and shouting to each other. Sleeping here is a challenge.

I had the best fish ever tonight, barracuda. First time tasting that and it’s exquisite. It’s nice having one of the best kitchens in town five steps from my front door.

I’m in very weird head and spiritual space here. Varkala is a strange mixture of India and the West and a mixture of my past and present. It feels like the Myrtle Beach of India. I’m so thrilled to be here and so comfortable, yet very restless and unsettled. I’m having difficulty integrating it. I sense a trend here, I get unsettled when I’m not doing something “productive”. I think it’s time to shift my definition of productive. Rest and relaxation and nurturing myself is definitely productive. I deserve this, I’ve been working hard, yet I’m finding it hard to let it in.

All indications are that I’m supposed to be chilling out here and recharging my batteries. I don’t know how long I’ll be here or where I’m going next. Not knowing is pressing my buttons. All three months of this trip have been grueling in many ways and it feels very odd to be comfortable and have everything I need and a beach and an ocean clean enough to swim in, which are two of my favourite things, just steps away. Yet, there is major discomfort that I can’t pinpoint the source of. I think part of it is just how expensive it is to stay here.

I have a parcel that is supposed to be enroute to Amma’s ashram that I need for my new school term that starts 7 January. It hasn’t arrived yet and I have no idea when it will get here. Trying to get information out of my university is an exercise in futility, so I’ll stick around, phoning the ashram every day until it shows up or until I give up on it. They ship overnight in the US and the book usually arrives the day before class starts. I have no idea what the process is for overseas shipments. All I know is that my advisor confirms that they have the proper address. I had arranged to use Amrita University’s Internet connection for my class this term, but since I left the ashram, that’s not possible. I’m not sure how I’m going to do this, I may have to do the alternate assignment each week until I return to the states. There is no Internet café here that’s open at 6:30am on Tuesday mornings. I just looked at a calendar and found I’m only going to miss two classes, so that’s no big deal. Nice.

It’s expensive here, but not as expensive as living in Seattle. It’s about midway in between typical India prices and Seattle prices. Most of the time I don’t even feel like I’m in India here. Until I try to sleep on the hard mattress and pillow, that is :) Just now, I heard a kitten crying and started tilting my laptop screen around to shed light and see if I could find it and found there is a dog curled up on my welcome mat about two feet behind me. Yes, it’s still India :)

My room is very nice and so is my traveling companion and roommate, but I prefer living alone. She’s moving on day after tomorrow, so there’s just the rest of this night and the next. It’s been great sharing the rent, I don’t think I could have stayed otherwise. We got here at the peak of the year. This has been a trend, first Tiru, then Amritapuri, now Varkala; each at their peak. Things were booked up solid until after the 5th and prices will start dropping then, whew. I think I’ll be able to find an affordable room when she leaves.

We looked for hours for a room when we got here and the few that were available were outrageously expensive. US price expensive. I was getting extremely frustrated and was ready to hail a taxi and continue onward to Kanukamari, the southernmost tip of India. It was hot, around 98 ° F, and we were lugging our luggage up and down the strip and down narrow dirt tracks at midday. The four of us ate lunch, then left one of us with the luggage while one of us stashed their luggage at a storage hut and headed to the beach. Kate and I were searching for rooms, walking up the strip, and all of a sudden, I heard UB40’s Red Red Wine playing on the stereo at a patio restaurant beside us. An intense wave of peace and joy flooded over me. For some reason, that song has always moved my soul and I have very special memories of it. I stopped, looked down at the beach and ocean, then looked up at the palm trees, deep blue sky and blazing sun. At that moment, I knew everything was totally perfect. I started singing and dancing; spinning around and around as I walked. People all around me started smiling and laughing and wishing me a Happy New Year and were reaching out to shake my hand.

Just beyond the restaurant was a dirt track and at the end of it I could see a room with floor to ceiling windows. The drapes were open and I could see clean linens stacked at the foot of the beds. I could tell the room was empty. I started down the track while continuing to sing and spin and dance. Kate looked bewildered, but smiled and followed me. We got to the room and she asked if it was my room. I told her it was a room, but I didn’t know who’s just yet, and smiled. We looked and couldn’t find the owner. The tailor next door said he was gone and to come back later. We went back to the strip and the shopkeeper on the other side of the dirt track said to wait, and he went to get the owner. We negotiated a better price than for some of the rooms we saw way off of the track, around the third row back from the cliff. This room has floor to ceiling windows on two sides and is large with a very nice attached bath. A woman came to enquire about booking it less than a minute after we negotiated the deal. Three of us shared it the first night, then one moved on.

After we checked in, Kate told the others that she didn’t know what was going on, but could tell I was “riding something” and she decided to come along for the ride. It was truly magical the way it just came to me that I was totally supported. I went from being totally frustrated and at my limit to joyous in the blink of an eye. I just knew. I love that I recognized it and went with it and didn’t question it or try to dissect it. I just trusted. And so it was.

I know a lot of what I post sounds like I’m living in the lap of luxury. While this trip truly is an exquisite experience, what I’m not sure is coming across is the excruciating exhaustion that comes from being in a land of such extremes. It’s not easy being here. I have given up so much, so many layers of physical and emotional comforts. Everyone wants something from me, they consider me the rich Westerner. I have to work so hard to get my basic needs met. By their standards, I am rich. But in reality, I have next to nothing, other than what’s in my suitcase, and no steady source of income. I’m far away from family and loved friends with extremely limited resources. I’m not complaining, just trying to paint an accurate, balanced picture. The benefits of this trip are beyond measure, but they haven’t come without a price.