Day in the Himalayan Life - Pt2

I’ve been feeling the itch to write lately and capture what the experience of coming home for a visit, post my India experiences, has been like.  Btw, I came home.  After Vipassana all I wanted to do was see my best friends and my family so days after I exited that hellacious piece of heaven/hell on earth in my enlightened state, I booked a visit home, this time the ticket was round trip.  I realized I had a part 2 of what was supposed to a many part series about my incredible daily life in McLeod but well, it ended with part two, which I have yet to post, until now.  Instead of completing this series, which the concept will be resurrected upon my return to SE Asia, I will just capture the things I’ve missed terribly since I’ve left.

I  miss all the amazing people I met, whom I know many of us will reconnect in the future, I miss listening to screaming eagles while hovering in Chatturanga, the sun penetrating the wall of windows in Yogi Shivadas’ studio or the torrential rains pounding on the ceiling.  I miss Shivadas calling me out on things and pegging my issues to a tee, I miss the random and sketchy looking routes to get to ANY yoga studio in McLeod or Dharamkot, which means I kind of even miss Jonathan the crazy Israeli tantric yoga teacher who told me to drink my own menstrual blood and that of my now no longer lady friends.  I miss my post yoga dates with Brittney and sitting on an open area, usually tarp covered roof watching the screaming eagles and eating our eggs and Tibetan brown bread or our fruit, muslei and curd.  Sometimes I miss Marina and her pounding on my door moments after I set foot in my room after a long day out.  I miss Mohan screaming, “MAAADAAAAAMMM“ and finally in the last few weeks I was there “JEEESSSSIIIIIIII” whenever he needed to talk to me and I miss the giggle and shy smile of his wife Beetu and her lil round preggers belly.  I miss the boys at Sanji’s always flipping me shit, the brothers Raan, Sanjay and their friends Ravi and Dinesh.  I miss my talks with Mohan’s brother Rinku and their helper during the busy season, Lama, about life in India.  I miss random adventures with Brittney and anyone else we met along the way, lounging days away “reading” in any one of our favorite cafes.  I miss my solo days where I’d park my ass on my balcony and stare out at the hillside while eating, reading, writing or doing yoga.  I miss my daily yoga lessons with DK from Lhamo’s and hearing about his stories of the life of Tibetans or the movie night they had EVERY night at 7pm in their café.  I miss the random guest house owner, Vikram, who would greet me each morning on my way down the hill to my yoga class as he’d tell me if I was early or late that given morning.  I miss passing the man and woman right by the steps playing Marabaraba (no idea what they call it in India) for hours on end.  I miss dodging cows, motor rickshaws and weaving in and out of the traffic mayhem that is India.  I miss living in the storms!  Oh MY GOD do I miss the storms!  I miss watching them roll in, roll through, the pounding on the roof, dodging the puddles of ick they created on the streets, the thunder that would shake my entire guest house ALL night, the lightening that would wake me in the middle of the night by igniting my room in incessant flashes.  I miss going to Tushita for Buddhist movie days, chai, chatting w/ Renchin the monk from Hawaii, morning meditations and workshops.  I miss going to Vipassana and then planning out a day w/ Marina afterwards.  I MISS THE FOOD! I miss the “shanti shanti” life style and attitude, which also means, India Time.  I miss the real true street food.  I miss hearing any one of the dozens of Shiva temple bells getting rung at any time of the day or waking to the sound of Buddhist chanting echoing across the hills.  I miss the sights, sounds (even the fucking ridiculous horn honking), smells and energy of the entire place.  I miss looking at the swirly trees that were sporadically located between all the gigantic evergreen trees.  I miss my Big Gay Umbrella and actually getting to use it without getting glared at because of its size.  I miss the Dalai Lama and you know what else I miss… the fucking MONKEYS! (FORESHADOWING)

Anyway, without any further ado, here is part 2 of what ended up only being 2 parts of Day in the Himalayan Life.

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Taking in one last breath of sun I bounce out of my balcony chair, throw on some yoga clothes, toss my mat into my backpack, make sure I have my antibacterial soap and cream for my fully exposed, fresh ¼ sleeve tattoo, slip into my flip flops, grab my 3^rd arm, which I have lovingly named “My Big Gay Umbrella,” which doubles as a walking stick during the non-torrential parts of the day, and head out for my walk/hike down to McLeod Ganj.  The path from my guesthouse to the main corner that houses the Himalayan Tea Shop, Tushita and Vipassana is relatively flat and mixed with paved parts, small pebbles and sand and big rock chunks, not unlike most other streets in the area.  Two routes will take you to McLeod Ganj, one driven by taxis, motorbikes and rickshaws; although, not at this early hour of 7:30am and the other path is known as the “shortcut” that passes along the backside of Tushita and is more of a hike than a walk.  Its descent is quick, steep and predominately nothing but rock.  A majority of the path looks like someone spent a month going up and down the mountain with a jackhammer, destroying the shit out of the road, and left all the remnants as a perpetual obstacle for the journey between McLeod and Dharamkot.  This is when I learned I’m amazing in a pair of flip flops and decided my Reefs are going everywhere in the world with me.  They handle this crazy bit of terrain like the champs they were born to be.  They’ve taken me through 4 continents, endured showers with leeches, vineyard strolls, mountain hikes, spa days, yoga outings and trudged through flooded roads of cow shit and sludge.  I feel like I should write a song about them but that would just be silly.  Understandably, this road is not taken by anything motorized, or anything not on foot, to be more specific.  It’s a beautiful path, lined with massive evergreen trees on both sides, it smells fresh, until you get closer to McLeod or pass a freshly dumped cow pie, and due to the surroundings, the incline and the condition of the path, I’d classify this more in the category of “hike” versus a “walk.” 

McLeod Ganj is like Seattle on a sunny day, especially after months of absolutely ridiculous torrential downpour from the skies.  The rain here is like nothing I’ve ever seen, in quantity, ferociousness and frequency.  It’s no wonder the poorly engineered roads look like they are going to slip out from under you with just the weight of your foot step, or a massive rock will dislodge from above and tumble your direction as you cross its path.  When the skies part and the sun shines, people are all smiles and friendly.  I have taken to hauling ass down the mountain in the mornings, since I’ve already spent considerable time strolling, gazing at my surroundings and absorbing everything around me.  Now, haul balls is the name of the game, unless I have a chance encounter with a lovely stranger, which, because I apparently can’t stop socializing, is often.  One morning a wonderful Tibetan man, whose name I still don’t know, who works at a guest house at the bottom of the hill, was on his way back from his early morning walk with his dog up to the top of the hill, showed me a marvelous short cut that allowed me to bypass the massive garbage can around the bend and down the hill. You know who likes garbage cans?  MONKEYS!  You know who doesn’t like me?  MONKEYS!  I will say, since my encounter with that beast in Rishikesh (see Mission, Monkeys and Motorbikes – OH MY!), and after a few weeks of automatically chanting the Saturn mantra Sanjay’s guru gave me as I approached a pack, I’ve eased a bit in their presence and I don’t think I’m giving off the stench of utter terror and fear.  I think it also helped that during Vipassana, I would take it upon myself to lead all the women to either the Dhamma Hall or cafeteria, because those are the only places we went, putting myself in harm’s way first of any monkey shenanigans, because I am up to date on my shots, thanks to Rishikesh.  The Vipassana retreat center in Dharamsala is like a playground for those things and one day a girl from San Francisco and I were essentially locked into the outdoor bathroom area because an entire family, or more of monkeys, were surrounding us.  As they came closer, we’d both run into whatever was nearest that had a door we could slam and lock.  I chose the bathroom, with the toilet EVERYONE tinkled on (so annoying!) and she, one of the showers, which probably had a disgusting leech on the darkened concrete, lifting its grotesque head sniffing for flesh to suckle.  Fifteen minutes we stood there, waiting for our chance to escape and keep in mind, we can’t talk and technically we’re supposed to have “Noble Silence,” which means also no gestures or eye contact but this was a different kind of situation and silent communication was a must for our survival.  I may be exaggerating, slightly.  Finally, Dimple, a woman from Bangalore, frantically waved her umbrella in the air as a signal we were in the clear and we managed to scurry off to our rooms, unscathed.  I feel like I could write a book about my monkey experiences in India.

Back to my lovely jaunt down the hill. I round the bend that passes the lower entrance to Tushita, by one of the Buddhist temples they walk circles around chanting mantras and playing with their prayer beads, and I hear a noise from the trees, I think.  I’m alone, which is not uncommon, and there is always some weird noise in this area that I haven’t been able to identify so I just keep walking, with heightened alertness  and a firmer grip around my Big Gay Umbrella that has a metal point.  I’ve determined that in time of need the Big Gay will be my life saver and allow me to stab a bitch in the gut through the heart or in the eye.  I told this plan to my mom on the phone once after she told me, “be safe girl,” and she suggested, “I think you should go for the eye.  Then you don’t have to contend with a rib cage.”  Thank you mom for the wonderful advice.  With a firm grip I look ahead and down to see if there are any newer obstacles in my path this day.  This is the point where the road is somewhat paved but the retaining wall of filled old metal containers is ahead and effective they are not, so the road is crumbling to bits around that piece of engineering genius.  As I peer up I catch the glimpse of an adolescent monkey running and jumping through the brush, swinging from a low hanging branch, landing on the ground and all of a sudden, I see a few more join it on the right side of the path.  I’m calm, cool, collected, not even chanting my mantra at this point and I’m feeling pretty a-okay.  All of a sudden, from the left, I hear similar noises and while looking down but carefully lifting my gaze I spot about 15-20 more monkeys of all ages.  At this point, the lil guy on the left, who I thought was alone, had crossed the path but left behind him another 20 monkeys.  I’m fucking SURROUNDED!  

Usually when I come to a group of monkeys they are all chilling by the garbage can, noshing on only god knows what and pay no mind to me, as long as I’m not oozing nervousness and anxiety.  I thought maybe they’d stop as I was walking, listening to Ratatat from my phone that’s shoved into the water bottle compartment of my backpack, but no, they are going the same direction as I.  I have baby monkeys walking within a foot of me on either side, almost in an accompanying fashion, older monkeys are frolicking (do monkeys frolic?) in and out of the trees to my right and on the left they are just running along the side of the cliff, some are crossing right in my path, making me weave a little from side to side like a hopeless drunk at this early hour.  I keep my pace even, as to not disturb the flow we’ve all created because I honestly don’t think I’d survive a monkey attack of 50+ strong, and there is not a person in sight.  The brief detachment from civilization in the woods is coming to an end and I see the patch of homes and guest houses on the left.  Water spews from some of the exposed piping that’s stacked in mass, soaking the left side of the road and this is India, you have NO idea where this stuff comes from or more importantly, what’s in it.  I try as I may to avoid getting “India” on me because who knows what will grow from the tainted spot once “India” has touched my skin, or what will fall off my body due to infection.  On the right the road becomes unmanageable in flip flops, or at least very difficult but there is a nice clear, yet small patch of pavement running down the middle of the path.  Even with the spots I like to avoid, there is maybe only 2-3 feet of each unpleasant situation on either side of the nice patch of pavement. Under normal circumstances, this is not problem but today it’s proving not only difficult, but impossible as I carefully keep my head down but gaze up and see the patch of hairy chest on a really big fucking beastly monkey plopped right in the middle of the road, parked on my landing strip of pavement.  “Fuck fuck fuck!” I silently utter to myself.  So that lack of fear I felt on this rather surreal trip down the mountain came to a jilted halt.  I’m all of a sudden, very cognizant of my breath and more importantly, controlling it. Breathing slowly to regulate my heart beat I, even more, carefully look at the monkey’s face, making sure to not make eye contact, to size up the situation I’ve encountered.  He’s just staring at me, not moving, I’m not moving, none of the monkeys around us are moving anymore, and life freezes, for how long, I have no idea.  Five feet from what seems to be the leader of this pack I stand as nonchalantly as possible, even go so far to place a hand on my hip, look up at the sky and pretend I don’t see this creature and that I’m totally unmoved by his power play, because, that’s what he’s doing that monster bastard of a mammal!  I fight the urge to whistle a little tune of nothingness, which I’m sure would send all 82,384,732 monkeys in my direction, teeth bared, arms flailing and screeches capable of draining my ear drums of blood.  I carefully, and briefly, look at his face again and he’s still just staring at me, not showing teeth or hissing like the one who attacked me in Rishikesh, but instead, smiles mockingly at me.  Maybe I dreamt it, or maybe I’m just being a dramatic Leo, but I swear he was flipping me shit with his eyes and a smirk.  I wait, patiently, maybe for 30 seconds, maybe for a few minutes and all of a sudden I hear small movements in surround.  A few of the little monkeys latch onto their moms and as I’ve been deemed nonthreatening, the big bastard saunters into the brush on the right side, allowing me to pass.  At this juncture, the monkeys stay put and carry on about whatever business it is monkeys carry on with?  I’d say they are on a mission to terrorize humans but that would be inaccurate in McLeod, thank god.  The red monkeys here are actually a bit more docile and just want to eat the remnants of food off the ground, rather than steal bags of whatever goodness you may have in your hands.  If I was still in Rishikesh though, terror, trouble and shenanigans are all those damn red assed monkeys are about and I have the faint scars of wisdom to prove it.  

Until the adventures continue and I need to decompress from my visit home,

xxxo

DIRTY!

Day in the Himalayan Life - Pt1.

“MADAAAAMMM!!” I’m startled awake from my perch, basking in the morning sun beating onto my balcony during the waking hours.  Mohan is yelling, as he does, from the bottom of my ramshackle stairs that I swear, one day, will topple over as I’m descending.  I’ve already practically face planted into the upper stairs as I’ve climbed them with a quick, impatient but what I thought a reasonable pace.  Why Mohan, one of the brothers who owns and operates the guest house and restaurant I’ve been staying since my move from party crazy Dharamkot Road to a quieter location, just days before Vipassana, continues to call me madam, I will never know.  I’ve requested a few times for him to just call me Jess, Jessica, J, asshole, whatever, anything but madam, but alas, a man forms a habit with no desire to break so I adapt to what I find an unnecessary formality.  I think he just doesn’t want to remember anyone’s name, which I don’t blame him, considering this place is a revolving door of tourists, predominately Israeli, so why remember anyone’s name?  The thing is, I’ve been living in his upstairs guestroom for 2 months, I have dinner with his wife, I play with his adorable niece Shelly and I'm pretty much an extension of their family at this point.  Instead of going through the revolving door as everyone else, I’m that idiot who sneaks into the small opening during the final swing of momentum of a manual entrance, thinking it’s automatic, and I just stand there, waiting for something to happen once the revolutions stop. I'm stuck and here to stay but if madam is what he prefers to call me, then madam it will remain.

“MAAAADDDAAAAAAMMM!!”  Completely unaware of what he wants I brace myself like an old lady and lurch out of my comfortable position on the balcony chair, unlatch both locks on my front door, fling it open and holler back, “Whaaaaat?!”  This is where the formalities stop as we scream back and forth at each other to communicate.  It’s what we do.

“Madam, garbage!  Do you have any?” he asks me.

“Oh yeah!  I was wondering how that works around here.  I’ll be down in a few seconds.”  I hustle to my bathroom, grab the only garbage can I have in my room, slip into my flip flops positioned at the door, grab a few plastic bottles and patiently and carefully step down the stairs.  The first step is a little further away from the top landing and there is a huge open gap that separates them, and it's at a wee incline, not to mention they are made of metal slats so they are a girl in heels worst nightmare!  I am in flip flops and they are still a nightmare.  Any wrong footing and you’d tumble down the very narrow, deathly looking contraption that is a fabricated norm in India.  As I set a foot on solid concrete ground I’m welcomed by an aged gentleman who has a massive old weaved rice bag that holds the unwanted contents of countless houses’.  He looks at me, silently, opens the bag and I dump the contents of my garbage to mix with that of everyone else’s.  I thank him, give him the India head nod and before I walk away, I see him synch the bag closed, heave it onto the top of his shoulder girdle and start to shuffle his way down the uneven,  slanted, crumbling steps that go from upper Dharamkot to main Dharakmot Road.  “Well, I guess that answers my question about garbage pickup,” I think to myself.  Of all the places I’ve traveled in this world and actually set temporary roots, I’m always fascinated by how different system’s work.  In Rishikesh, India and Lesotho, Africa, they just burn everything they can’t recycle.  In Rishikesh, the recycling is minimal and that was apparent by the daily evening asphyxiation we’d be subjected to but in Lesotho, they find the oddest uses for any normal item we’d throw in the trash in the US.  In Peru, we found much of the hillside in San Francisco de Asis, a small community just east of the coastal fishing town of Ancon, buries their garbage in the dirtiest sand hill I’ve ever seen, which we found out was a garbage dump when we ended up digging into it during the process of our construction work.  If they didn’t do that, once or twice a week a truck would drive down the sand path, honk their horn and people would need to run out of their house and throw bags of their waste into the back of the truck.  Some would just leave everything in a big pile, not unlike they do in Manhattan, and the garbage collectors would pick up the mess.  India is just a different world and I really can’t ever figure out the systems they have in place, for anything, really.

I’ve had to leave my green, “keep your surroundings clean” Northwest born attitude at home and believe me, the first time I did the unspeakable, I felt like I died a little inside.  I had just finished devouring delicious steamed momos from one of the street vendors, post one of my first killer Ashtanga practices, and asked a girl if she’d seen a garbage.  Her response, “Uh, look around, India IS the garbage.  Just toss it.”  I swallowed hard, closed my eyes and let my paper container dangle from my fingertips before it silently dropped into the drainage ditch below me.  The sides of the streets at the end of the day look similar to those in the Mission in San Fransisco but something tells me monster street sweepers don’t cluck along Temple, Bhagsu or Jogiwara Roads in the middle of the night and instead everyone in McLeod Ganj has the untouchables to thank for keeping the filth to a minimum.

I’ve been more fascinated with the daily life of those in Dharamkot and McLeod, myself included because during one of my many epiphanies I had during Vipassana was, “why in the hell am I going to do an Ashtanga teacher training when I’ve only done 2 classes myself?!”  That epiphany came on day 3 and day 4 I decided that if Sarah and I didn’t get chosen to be the travel bloggers for a project in Japan, which we were supposed to find out about while I was deep into sitting 12+ hours a day, observing my bodily sensations, I wasn’t going to be upset because the thought of incessant traveling tired me greatly.  My intentions of coming to India were to immerse myself in as much yoga as possible and anyone I met along the way whose plan didn’t align with mine, I would just say hello and then good bye.  Little did I know that while sitting in silence for 10 days I would come out the other end with 2 incredible new friends whose paths were very similar.  I made a decision to stay put, set roots and really begin to live, a normal, daily life, in this Himalayan hillside, without stress, without a desire to move around and without going through another strictly regimented yoga teacher training.  I know that will come again in my life but right now, it just didn’t feel like the right time.  I have to admit, I chuckle to myself when friends back home speak about all the adventures I’m having because, once you’re settled somewhere and set roots, everything just becomes a norm and nothing seems like an adventure.  This is why I haven’t updated my blog in so long, each day brings me the same satisfaction, which is great, but it’s all just life for me.  I feel like writing now would be like keeping a travel blog while I’m in Seattle. J 

Every so often I have to stop and realize exactly what I’m doing and I’m amazed by my life.  I wake up every morning and head to yoga, like I do at home, head to some fine establishment for food and tea with friends, like at home, find a quiet café with a balcony that has an amazing view to read for a few hours, which I do at home, and maybe catch a free movie and then walk up the hill or depending on the daylight, catch a ride up the hill to my place of residence.  Sounds pretty normal, yeah?  I feel like I’ve turned into one of those people who answers with, “oh you know, the usual,” when asked what’s new but in reality, that couldn’t be further from the truth, which as renewed my desire to capture just what life is like where I'm living.  This is less a travel blog now and more a life experience blog, which I find completely acceptable at this point in my life.

Each morning I wake and now that the monsoons have subsided, although not entirely, the sun is fighting with all its might to seep into my room through my blood red curtains, sometimes succeeding and leaving a small bead of light shooting directly into my eyes.  I smile as I emerge out of my burrow of sleep sack and mound of blanket and fling the curtains open with awe at the beauty of the new day.  The mountains have this spectacular glow to them, whether from the dew collected over the night or just how things look here without any explanation, but everything shimmers and it’s amazing.  My entire room lights up, I open all the windows and make my way to the balcony to sweep whatever mess the wild cat has left in the middle of the night of its scratching post, which is my chair.  I plop down for a minute, close my eyes, sun radiating much needed Vitamin D into my skin and just breath in the morning, all while listening to Rinku, Mohan’s older brother, aggressively, almost violently gargle, hack and spit into the sink in their family’s outside shared bathroom.  My Dalai Lama blessed Buddhist prayer flags gently flap in the breeze, which I hung as soon as I realized I was staying for awhile, life on the hillside slowly starts to stir and I can hear the Vipassana bells in the distance.  Now that I’ve lived a life for 10 days by those bells, it’s impossible not to notice each time they ring.  While I was in Vipassana, the moment we could start to speak, one of the first things I said, as Jasmin, the main server, was walking around with one of those god-awful hand held bells going “dinglelinglingdinglelinglingdinglelinglingdinglelingling” was “when I leave here and hear a fucking bell, I’m going to have a Pavolvian response and it’s not going to be salivating.”  Oops, there’s some aversion for you.  The fact is, now that I’m out, I love hearing them and while my meditation has been anything but consistent, when I try my best to make time, I try to time it with the bells.  Those bells, this view, these sounds, the smells, none of these things are anything I have in Seattle.  Life lived on a mountainside in the Himalayan mountain range is like nothing else on this planet and it’s beyond beautiful and experiencing this is my adventure...

Cheers from the mountain and more to come,
xxxo,
Dirty

Jetsunma Tenzin Palmo Day 2 - Enlightenment or BUST!

These are the notes I took from day 2 of her teachings at Tushita Meditation Center in Dharamsala, India

July 29, 2011

Morning session

Observing the Mind

• Even though thoughts are intangible, they rule our lives
• We dress our sense of “I” in memories and cloth it in labels based on what we think we know about ourselves but the Buddha says this is the biggest delusion and it’s all because of our mind
• We do not exist the way we think we exist, we are not who we think we are, we identify with all the wrong things
• The problem is we believe our mind so we then cling to our ideas and don’t question what we think, feel, believe
• It’s not about finding out who you are, it’s about finding out who you are not
• The essence of meditation practice is to observe the mind at all times and what is observing the mind is not the conceptual mind, eventually meditation will move from the non-conceptual mind to the heart.  Allow ideas, emotions and thoughts to come and then dissolve with no attachment or identification to them – Jetsunma lived with a yogi who suggested to really observe the happenings in the mind 3x every hour to become aware.

Empathetic Joy

• Joy in the happiness of others and is the total opposite of jealousy and envy
• We rejoice in others happiness, which then doubles the happiness felt!
• We should be happy when others do good things, are striving for happiness or receive happiness
• Rejoice in your heart with no concern for yourself
• So many people focus on the pain/suffering they or others are feeling/experiencing but they feel that if they open their heart to taking on anymore suffering, it will be too overwhelming.  Empathetic joy and focusing on what good is happening and rejoicing in others happiness will combat that feeling.  There is a lot of good and beauty in this world and it’s important to focus on this.
• 4 Right Efforts:
• Eradicate any negative things in our mind stream and uproot or transform them
• Prevent negative things from happening in the future
• Cultivate and recognize the good things we have in our mind stream
• Bring more of the good things in the future
• All our efforts are to bring us back to where we never left, to our true nature
• The negative feelings/qualities are fleeting and not inherent, we are all pure and perfect by nature
• 3 Kinds of Laziness:
• Gross
• “I can’t do it”
• We keep ourselves so busy with good things that we never step back to work on ourselves – a way to avoid dealing with ourselves
• Like with all other practices, must start with ourselves first.  Be happy and appreciative of all the good influences in your life and recognize and be happy about the goodness in you.

Afternoon Session

• 2 main obstacles keeping us from a balanced mind (where the subject and object are one)
• Agitation – we try to focus and mind has a different idea where it wants to go
• To alleviate agitation, keep sessions short and firm
• It’s scary to realize how little control over the thing that rules our life the most
• The main problem in this world is we are not the masters of our own mind
• If we had loud speakers attached to our minds, wouldn’t we all want to meditate to help calm the mind and regain control of it?
• We try to do too much
• If you do anything with a distracted mind, it won’t work
• Give something simple to start to focus with, like the breath
• If mind is agitated, look at a nice landscape, eat heavier foods, keep warm
• Sinking – This is the dangerous one.  We feel relaxed but our mind is unclear and not alert so people mistake it for deeper levels of meditation but it’s not
• Goal is a mind that is quiet, peaceful, relaxed, spacious, totally vivid and bright
• If you have a sinking mind, sit up straighter, keep yourself cooler

2 mental factors

1 – mindfulness – 1 pointedness

2 – introspection – spies on the mindfulness to see how it’s doing and makes sure meditation is balanced

Impartiality

• All beings should receive our love and kindness, not just certain beings.  Apart from attachment of those near and dear and apart from animosity for those not within our circle
• Feel neither strong like/dislike for those we love/hate
• Not indifference, it’s even mindedness
• Recognize that all beings want to be happy
• Know everything people do is to make them happy.  It doesn’t mean we need to let people get away with everything bcs that may not be compassionate bcs it may cause themselves or others harm.
• Compassion isn’t always sweet and sometimes it can be rawful, it’s the intention that counts

Jetsunma Tenzin Palmo Day 1 - Change the Mind, Change the World

Jetsunma Tenzin Palmo, the first female, western ordained buddhist nun, is in Dharamkot doing a 2 day teaching and I put a pause on this weeks Iyengar course so I could attend each of the 4, 2 hour long teaching/meditations.  I told a few people I would take notes so here are the highlights that stuck with me as she was speaking.  Tushita will be posting the audio files online and I'll link to those as soon as they have them on the site.  Day 1 and I LOVED it and her!  She's quite the character and really lovely. Here is some more information on her, if you're curious.

Morning session

• Where we really live 24/7 is in our minds and we give so little attention to creating well-being where we truly reside and spend too much time focusing on the outside
• Who we are is in the mind not in the body
• We are slaves to our mind, we are not the masters, which is why we say and do what we don’t necessarily want
• The good news - the nature of our mind is completely pure, illumines and clear
• **Change the mind, change the world**
• There are 2 levels of meditation in Buddhism:
• 1^st – to remain calm and peaceful (single pointed)
• 2^nd- Vipasana – look into the deeper depths of oneself
• To gradually quiet the inner chatter, focus on the breath
• Issues that may arise are getting fascinated with the psychic events/feelings that occur and gets unfocused on everyone and just oneself
• 4 feels that are ok and positive to dwell and cultivate with others:
• Love and kindness
• Compassion
• Empathetic Joy
• Impartiality

Love and Kindness

• Love = Goodwill towards others, the wish others are happy and delight in their happiness
• The first object of wishing is oneself, not to be contradictory with always putting others as more important than oneself and always giving victory to others.  When that was originally talked of, it was not with the knowledge that people suffer inside and think negative thoughts and have low self esteem so we must be happy within ourselves first
• Give yourself love, compassion, rejoicing in the goodness of ourselves
• If we do not feel genuine love in our heart for ourselves we cannot give it to anyone else
• If you don’t believe in ourselves, who will?

Afternoon Session

• It is important to enjoy doing whatever it is you’re doing because you’ll do it well
• Dhamma should be fun and making our life light, not heavier
• Mostly, we just live on the surface of our minds and we have no idea what’s in the deeper depths of our mind
• Meditation = path of discovery
• The beauty of a journey is not in the destination but in the journey itself
• Do everything with no expectations.  The moment we try to super impose hopes and expectations, the doors close down because our ego takes over
• The thinking mind cannot meditate and cannot be present in the moment… there is no “now” because as soon as you look for the “now” it’s gone.
• Mindfulness is being present and aware of the present moment without comment
• Our breath is our gateway into the “now” because we cannot break in the past and we cannot breath in the future.
• Thoughts are not the enemy.  Our goal is not to be thoughtless, our identification with the thoughts is the problem

Compassion

• Understand the underlining dissatisfaction which is always prevalent as long as we are delusional
• As long as we remain in a state of unknowing we cannot go beyond dissatisfaction

Panic at the Disco

Is it funny that everyone in Seattle is actually counting the minutes of summer felt thus far this year and I’m chilling on my patio, immersed in thick fog rolling in and out of the hillside, it’s been pouring rain all day and I’m totally loving every bit of this?  I actually bought my first umbrella today for the first time in… uh… I don’t even know when.  It’s huge and it’s rainbow and I call it my “Big Gay Umbrella.”  Creative name isn’t it and I love it.

I’ve been in Dharamkot for 5 days and it’s been quite the experience thus far and I may be understating the fact that I love it.  Now, Dharamsala is the main town, which is about 11km from where I am on the hillside.  It’s where most of the locals live, there is the hospital, the big bank and where all business takes place.  This is not where I am.  Up what I’m assuming is a very steep hill (I don’t remember because I was passed out until we arrived), is McLeod Ganj, which is where the hub of this area rests.  It’s touristy as fuck!  The square where the roads to Dharamkot, Bhagsu and Dharamsala meet, is cluttered with the hustle and bustle of shops, restaurants, western unions, travel agents, bodegas and tourists, EVERYWHERE, tourists!  Don’t get me wrong, we are in exiled Tibetan capital of the world and there is definitely a sighting of maroon draped robes over shaven headed bodies but it’s not as prevalent as I thought it would be.  When we got here, the Dalai Lama, who resides here in Tsuglagkhang Buddhit Temple in McLeod Ganj, was visiting with Obama in the US but during my incredibly horrific hangover on Wednesday, he arrived back in Dharamsala and Aishwarya got to see him from his vehicle as he returned.  I also learned last night he will be giving a 3 day teaching seminar at the end of August/beg of September, just days after Cat and I finish our Vipasana retreat and I’m currently figuring out how to pay the group sponsoring his teaching so I can attend.  If that’s not an amazing bucket item list to cross off, I don’t know what is!  The area is catered heavily to all the people who come to begin their multi-day treks in the Himalayas so there are tons of shops with knock off North Face apparel and all the usual jewelry stores and Tibetan fabric shops.  I will say, the lack of cows and therefore, cow shit, is a nice change of pace and I don’t seem to get almost run over with every second that passes I try to walk from place to place but there are nightly dog fights outside our guest house. 

Just off the square is the road up to Dharamkot and as you ascend you can see all the buildings below draped with Buddhist prayer flags across the hillside.  The road is very narrow and for the most part, is in ruins with only a little bit of it paved and the rest is huge pot holes with exposed rock and massive chunks taken out of the path.  Along one side of the street is a mess of pipes clustered together that I’m going to assume are water pipes and they run almost the entire length of the road coming from Dharamkot.  I’ve only been down this road a few times, because as I’ve stated, I can’t stand being in shop riddled touristy places, but each time I have and take a tuktuk up the road, I’m in utter shock that it makes it up the hill.  These holes in the road must be as big as some of these things that trudge up the hill in the lowest gear possible.  The buildings in the area are all colorful, ranging from light to bright pinks, greens, yellow, blue and they are all scattered across the hillside.  As you come into Dharamkot there are 2 small roads that take you to 2 of the main parts of the town.  I have only ventured down one, the one we’re staying on. I know, I know, I need to get out more!  The street is lined with guest houses and cafés of various sorts, all serving the usual flair of Indian cuisine, Israeli, Chinese, Tibetan, Italian and of course, there has to be a tattoo parlor.  I will say, I ventured in one day to figure out what the fuck to do with these things on my back that are seeming to have no story behind them and while I won’t get the work finished here, I now have a solid vision that will properly capture the story of my past and mix with the story of my present.  Tats are not much cheaper here than in the US so I’m in no rush.

I took a few days off from writing this blog post, originally started on the 23^rd, because whilst sitting in Sanji’s Milkyway, one of our regular spots and adjacent to our guest house, it got insanely packed with hippie Israeli’s and they hot boxed the place with hash and I, needless to say, totally lost my focus on writing.  I’m currently sitting on the outside patio of the Krishna Café, which has AMAZING Tibetan momo’s, well I think anyway, I only have one other place to compare them with, and rain is trickling from the sky, clouds are sweeping in and out of the hillside and it’s just beautiful.  This place is quiet and I never see more than a few people here, since it’s up the hill a bit and away from a majority of the fan fare, which is where I’m staying.  Jade and I managed, or I should really say Jade managed, to find a really great location for us to stay.  As with all accommodations on this trip, it’s simple, a big firm foamed bed, a plastic chair, a small book shelf and a bathroom with HOT WATER!  I think I already mentioned that but I feel it necessary to mention again.  Now that I’m in a location where not all my food/accommodations are already paid I’ve decided to actually, for the first time in my life, live on a budget, which I’m allotting myself 500INR a day, which is roughly $11 a day for food and housing.  $11 a day people!  I’m living comfortably, although not luxuriously, and eating very well and that includes countless chai that I can’t seem to get enough of.  This expense I’m putting on top of whatever already planned yoga course/workshop I’ve opted to attend.

Speaking of yoga, I have taken a liking to the Iyengar course and after our first 5 days of the beginner session is complete, I’m excited to see what the next week brings.  Gabby and her friend Jonathan decided to opt out of the trek with a bunch of our other friends in Kashmir, for various reasons, and stay with us and Aishwaraya, so it’s been a yoga filled fun time with good friends.  In order to do ANYTHING else at this Iyengar facility, started by one of B.K.S. Iyengar’s long time students, you have to complete 3 5 day “beginner” courses.  Aside from the fact the sub teacher (Sharat is away teaching in Europe) had us doing 35 bow poses on the 3^rd day, I’d say beginner is quite accurate.  I’ve taken some Iyengar classes in the states and I’m going to venture to say, none of them were true Iyengar, unless you count just whipping out the use of a strap is Iyengar.  The focus on alignment is pretty intense, especially w/ the feet and extending the toes, although I hear in weeks 2 and 3 will be even more so, the poses are held for at the very least a minute, some 25 minutes, and yes, props galore are used.  We have this cute eastern European teacher, who I don’t even think told us her name. The participants were all pretty low key, excluding one creeper dude from the US who looks like he’s been to one too many Burning Man’s and is on a mission to hit on every woman in sight and these 4 older Russian woman, who not only don’t speak a lick of English but don’t pay attention to the demonstrations in class, don’t try to really do anything properly, even after one of the students translates for them, leave their cell phones on and talk incessantly.  I’m looking forward to them moving on to other things next week. J  Now for those who know me know I LOVE vigorous ANYTYHING, rowing, running, sex, yoga, drinking, inappropriate talk… you name it.  Iyengar is the complete opposite of rigorous BUT the focus I’ve been able to have on a single pose is phenomenal, I found I’ve been fucking up my triangle pose all these years AND I’ve already noticed insane increases in certain forms of flexibility with just the 5, 3hr days.  We get through *maybe* 7 poses in the course of those 3 hours and after my personal practice this morning, I did find where we’ve missed some spots and where poses lack in the series they teach.  I’ve learned quite a bit though but I’m still tossed up though on whether I want to actually dive into a 3 week intensive but I’m going to see what the universe has in store for me with that.  They have only 4 spots left and on Aug 16 I go into Vipasana meditation with Cat and at the end of that, Sarah and I find out if we’re one of the top 5 to be selected for a travel blogging position in Japan that would take me to Japan by way of Bangkok Sept 15.  I’m in no rush to try to register though and have tons of other options of things to do and I can always do another intensive at another time if I desire.  I did get my first sucking by a leech on the walk to the Himalayan Institute on my birthday, that was rad… or NOT!

The Vipasana center is right up the street from where I’m staying, which I’m getting both nervous and excited for, but right next to it is a Buddhist Meditation Center called Tushita and they have a number of activities always going like morning guided meditations, movies twice a week, guest speakers and what not, that you can attend anything by donation.  I’ve already seen 2 movies and after the last one, “Discovering Buddhism: Transforming Problems,” our group of friends had a really nice discussion with a monk afterwards on thoughts/questions it triggered, things we wanted clarification and then between us, we did a comparison with yogic/hindi philosophy/teachings.  I will say, I’m open to learn more about Buddhism but so far, I really enjoy the positivity surrounding yoga and the message of both are the same but Buddhism focuses so much on “suffering” that it’s not really resonating with me. I like thinking I am you and you are me and we’re all the same in the state of universal consciousness, we are not our bodies, our mind or our emotions, we are much deeper and much more connected than that.  It’s beautiful, this yoga stuff. J  This Thursday/Friday a Jetsunma Tenzin Palmo will be speaking and we will all be attending the second session after yoga. So many learning opportunities here it’s CRAZY!

My 31^st birthday went off with little fan fare, much unlike every other year in my adulthood.  We had plans to go on an adventure drive with Sanji, the guy who owns the café we frequent, but people got sick, people bailed and then, in a rush of Israeli trekkers, he was so swamped he couldn’t step away like he wanted.  It was 3pm and I saw my day disappearing into my room on the internet, just as so many other days and I was a moping mess.  Little did I know the wonderful surprises my new wonderful friends from Yog Peeth planned.  Prior to dinner they dragged me into Jade’s room and handed me a plate, filled with HobNobs covered in Nutella, bananas and candles!  They sang a very surprised me happy birthday and I already felt like a schmuck for being such a soggy brat all day.  We walked to the Krishna Café, where I’m typing now, and had a wonderful dinner and then they presented me w/ a sapphire necklace that an astrologer said would do all the necessary work needed!  Gabby made the knotted holder for the sapphire and jonathan made the necklace part.  It was so very sweet and thoughtful and I was shocked!  When I spoke to Sanjay’s guru he stated I’m going through some very hard times right now, which is true, I guess, but also not.  I asked about my reactionary attachment/detachment issues, I’m assuming fueled by an early abandonment by a one of the parents, and he stated I would need to buy a 7ct dark sapphire and wear it as a silver ring on my right ring finger.  Wow, thanks guru for telling me to buy a stone just shy in lavishness and expense of a diamond!  So the thoughtfulness behind the gift Gabby, Jade, Jonathan and Aishwaraya gave me was so wonderful my thanks couldn’t be put to words.  Gabby gave it to me and said, “now you don’t have to spend $15k on a sapphire or chant the Saturn mantra forever!” J So my birthday evening was rather wonderful and I learned I still need to work on holding onto expectations of “plans,” well, of everything really.  I’ve gotten pretty good at being flexible but you know, I always make a big deal of my birthday so when nothing happens, this Leo is not a happy camper but I really need to chill and enjoy what I’m doing at that very moment and understand whatever is happening is exactly as it’s supposed to happen. 

Yesterday I decided to get a post birthday massage at The Sanctuary across the street and a very attractive, calm mannered man named Anand is the aryuvedic/thai massage therapist, as well as yoga teacher, and he gave me what could potentially be the weirdest and I think most wonderfully amazing massage ever?  I’m not sure exactly how I feel about it but I will say, if I choose to actually schedule another one with him, I will feel like I’m knowingly hiring someone for 3 hours of foreplay, which I don’t do.  One time, it was a nice… I guess, surprise but a second time, I don’t think so.  Very little wasn’t covered and it wasn’t awkward at all but yeah, like I said, I’m still tossed up on how I feel about the experience. I will say I need to find a lover who knows how to massage like that though!  Jeez!

Today has been a mix of weird and off – I had night terrors about my family and another thing the guru told me a week ago, woke me from my sleep – “you are currently being betrayed by a loved one.”  That didn’t rattle me at all until my subconscious decided it wanted to freak out in the middle of the night last night.  I also had a REALLY weird release during Chakrasana where my entire front body felt this intense crazy tingly sensation.  We went to meditation and while waiting for breakfast I started feeling this terrible dread and knew, from past experience, I was on the verge of a panic attack.  It didn’t help that I was starving and all I had ingested was chai but I knew I had to jet.  I ate as quickly as possible, headed up to my room and almost burst into tears for only god knows what reason.  I used to be plagued by those a few years ago but I honestly can’t remember the last time I had one and it terrified me.  I don’t know if it’s the insane energy of being in a city filled with devout Buddhists and exiled Tibetans, all that I’m learning, all the transformations of my body and mind or really, just all of it compounded, but I needed to take a step back and just chill today.  James is my savior and helped talk me out of it by reading me headlines from US Weekly and telling me about all the wonderful things he’s doing at home and adventures he has planned.  I love him!  I had my worst one about 10 years ago (omg, 10 years ago?!) and he sat with me the entire night and helped pull me from wherever my non-physical being had gone.  I realized I hadn’t had a day to myself, really to myself, since a few weeks before I left Seattle so on his recommendation, I’m having a “Seattle Jess” day in India.  I read for a majority of it and now, I’m at a café, reading and writing, eating delicious food and sipping chai, exactly as I would do at home.  It’s wonderful and melding the life of Seattle me and India me will need to be essential to me not going crazy while I’m experiencing so much.  My almost break down today is what is making me slightly nervous for Vipasana but that’s why I came here, to dig into my deepest self and figure out who I really am and tackle all that ails and come out a better person for me and for everyone around me.  Let the real adventures begin!

The sun is peaking out for the first time since I’ve been here (although I hear it made a cameo yesterday while I was getting sensually manhandled) so I’m going to sit and stare at the view for awhile, sip my lemon, honey, ginger tea and nibble on some veggie pakora… until later…

Xxo,

Dirty

Lady Xanax - Adventures in India Travel

Written immediately after arriving in Dharamkot

19, July 2011

I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a seasoned traveler, especially if you compare me to a majority of the people I’ve met during my visits to various continents but I’m definitely not one of those too fearful or scared to uproot their normal routine in the US to not venture into the wild of the world.  I can say, in my limited travel experience I absolutely ABHORE touristy places.  Touristy places have been added to my list of 5 star resorts of places I don’t care to see whilst exploring the world and I’m glad they are there for the people who feel that is the way to travel but not me, no way, no how. 

My time in Rishikesh came to a close yesterday afternoon and while I don’t think I was fully prepared for the tearful good byes, last conversations with those I care very deeply but once the wonderful faces I came to love started to leave I felt like I couldn’t get out of Rishikesh fast enough.  The last weekend was the beginning of what used to be a huge spiritual festival for Shiva and people, predominately younger guys looking to party, sporting tiny orange shorts that hid NOTHING, and their bright orange shirts w/ Shiva’s face plastered all over them flooded our little haven of holiness.  I spoke to Sanjay on our motorbike ride to see his guru who runs and lives in a guest house just inside Lakshman Jhula and he said that the spirituality has completely disappeared and now it’s just a bunch of people coming to the city to have fun and party with their friends.  Now I wouldn’t exactly say it was like Vegas considering Rishikesh is not only alcohol free but you can’t even get a meat dish to eat but I’m sure hash was smoked by the masses.  Part of the celebration is to walk from wherever you live, grab a bunch of water from the Holy Ganga and dispense some up the mountain at the Shiva temple and take more back with you to your home, on foot.  It was MADNESS!

Seeing the guru was a different experience, which I won’t discuss here but it was a nice way to end my stay in Rishikesh and it was nice to spend some time with Sanjay because as little as we interacted, I felt drawn to him and really appreciated and enjoyed his morning asana practices.  He is a kind soul and has a wonderful smile and spoke with us all without condescension.  Jade and I gave ourselves 2 hours to get to the bus station in Rishikesh proper thinking we could just walk all our tons of shit across the Ram Jhula bridge, grab a tuktuk and be good to go.  Oh no… thanks to the festival, it was actually and very surprisingly not too crazy getting out of Ram Jhula but where there are usually hundreds of tuktuks waiting to charge westerners too much for a 2km ride, there were NONE!  We had to haul all our shit up the hill and walk another 1km or so and were welcomed by a bunch of tuktuk drivers wanting to charge the 2 of us 150INR for what would usually cost 5INR each.  Strong and angry words were spoken and finally we found a guy who would shove the two of us, and our shit, into a an already packed tuktuk w/ an adorable and very friendly little family.  One of the older woman offered to grab my “smaller” bag and hold it in her lap for me as I half sat on the already ridiculously tiny seat and half hung out the tuktuk door, gripping onto my 1ton bag for dear life so it wouldn’t fall on anyone.  Jade somehow managed to get herself and her monster back in this thing too.  If I didn’t think I’d fall out of the tuktuk into oncoming or passing traffic, I would’ve documented.  Oh and I should add, all of the tuktuk drivers tried to tell us we were wanting to go somewhere we didn’t want to go.  Haridwar, Dehardun and only god knows where else they said they were going to take us.  We had to actually yell at them as the 3-4 tuktuk drivers were around us all spouting we were wrong and needed to go elsewhere.  I yelled, “LOOK!!  THIS *pointed to my ticket* IS WHERE WE NEED TO GO! NO WHERE ELSE! Can you do that and not for 150INR!  We’re not stupid, this drive normally costs 5INR from 1km BACK!”  That’s when the one guy chuckled and said, “OH, you want to go to Shiva temple to catch the bus to Dharamsala?”  “YES!  That’s what we’ve been saying for the past 5 minutes!”

Jade and I get dropped off at a gas station and I see no Shiva Temple so we, and all our shit, are standing on the street corner looking confused and also terrified that any of the busses we see across the street are what we’re going to have to take.  The busses in India are NOTHING like the shear luxury that is Cruz del Sur in Peru.  We ask some gentleman also just chillin at the gas station if we’re in the correct place and he points to a random, unmarked waiting room that’s a tiny building on the side of a restaurant and are told it will be another out.  Jade and I meet a very sweet girl, Uma, from South Korea who came to India 5 years ago after getting her heart broken and has seemed to get stuck in various places for whatever reason… love, dance, yoga, meditation. There were a few Israeli people, one girl who was SMOKIN and after a few other sightings of the many Israeli people here, I’ve decided I need to go there. J  About 10 of us waiting in this weird little waiting room and all of a sudden a tiny Jeep comes up and the guy hops out and says, “Ok, the bus is 1km away. Come.”  He throws all our monster bags on the roof and we somehow manage to cram every inch of this car with us and all our stuff and as soon as the doors are closed he yells to the back, “100INR each!”  I’m glad to know I’m not the only one with some aggression in this place and one if the Israeli girls yells at him, “NO!  We are NOT paying you anything!  This is where we were told to go and we bought our bus ticket.  WE ARE NOT PAYING YOU!”  The driver gets out and looks flustered and we’re all about to get out, grab our shit and trudge through the crazy india traffic to get ourselves to the train until he gets back into the car, chuckles and says, “ok, let’s go. No charge.”  AH! 

We get dropped off at the back of the bus and there are a bunch of India dudes just chillin, shootin the shit and we all sit in the middle of the street or precariously on the edge of this ledge where below is a stream of the grosses looking urban sludge you could imagine.  All of a sudden a guy who we thought was in charge hops on a motorbike, says, “be back soon” and takes off.  Our bus was supposed to leave at 4, it’s now 4:30…oh india time, how I love you.  None of us know what’s going on so we do what everyone in India does best, just sits there.  About 20-30 minutes later he arrives again and we’re allowed to put our luggage into the back of the bus and board.  The buses are very simple and I’d almost like to compare them to school buses in the states but there are 2 bucket seats next to each other on either side of the aisle, they do recline and there is a small storage compartment above our heads.  This is apparently the luxury buses in India and no, I didn’t have high expectations.  I’ve come to understand the best way to enjoy your time in India is to have zero expectations at all, maybe even on the boarder of low expectations.  For $21 it wasn’t bad BUT if we want to compare countries, Cruz del Sur in Peru, Daddy and I got bus tickets from Lima to Huacachina for just over $30 for the luxury seating, which are like first class seats in planes, you get food service, there are bathrooms on the buses, as opposed to hopping off, running to the muddy, potentially shitty side of the road (you can’t tell because it’s pitch black outside) to cop a squat and do your business.  There are also movies and A/C in Peru, in India, you’re lucky to get a working fan and windows that open by your seat.  Note, this was a deluxe bus, the public bus, from what I hear, is more like a school bus.

The first part of our journey, once we finally left, was beautiful.  We left the busy hub of Rishikesh and made our way through various small towns.  The sun was setting as a HUGE deep pink orb behind the corn fields and mountains, the air was getting more crisp and less shit and exhaust filled and it was really pleasant, especially since it wasn’t fully booked and Jade and I each had our own row. Once the sun was down I decided there wasn’t much need to be conscious anymore. Thanks to the lovely over the counter medical stores in India, I popped my lady xanax and within moments I was chill as ever and a moment later, I passed out, not to wake again until the sun was rising over the Himalayas and we were only an hour from McLeod Ganj. We get to McLeod Ganj, which is upper Dharamsala where the Dalai Lama lives when he’s here and it is touristy as hell and I’m hoping to god the Iyengar center isn’t here.  It felt like Lakshman Jhula but busier and dirtier, which I didn’t think possible.  I’m still groggy from the xanax so I let Jade attempt to take the reins on where we’re going but neither of us really know and god knows it’s a crap shoot believing any Indian.  Uma thought the Himalayan Iyengar Center was in Bhagsu but upon getting a tuktuk to take us there we ask the driver and he says, ‘Oh no, it’s in Dharamkot.”  Shit, that sounds familiar and thanks to the center’s website for going down a few days ago, we didn’t have info on exactly directions but that sounded familiar.  Our tuktuk driver rolls his eyes, charges 3 times more than we were originally going to get charged but we’re off in the other direction.  Jade finds this adorable guest house that has HOT WATER and really kind manager.  We ate at the little café a few doors down and I proceeded to take my first hot shower in months… HEAVEN!  Oh AND my text messaging works in the mountains.  Yes! 

Signing out – from beautiful, non sticky Dharamkot

Xxxo

Dirty – not really J