Wake up early to beat traffic and head on our journey to the Taj Mahal. Our driver (yes, we have a driver) took us on the three or so hour drive south to Vrindavan, the home of Lord Krishna. After breakfast at a truck stop-esque restaurant, we traveled a bit more before an abrupt roadside stop. Then, magically we had a guide appear, RK. He took us through the streets of Vrindavan, face to face with real people, amazing people. My camera could not get enough. The bright colors. The dark skin and emotive faces. I might have to put together a portraits series from this trip. That has always been my passion in photography, the faces. My passion in life perhaps.

We toured Krishna’s temple, Shree Radha Govinda (built in 1590 AD), and his house. It was beautiful and spiritual. It was kitschy and touristy. Yet, I have been very surprised by the lack of white skin here. Everywhere we go, we seem to be the only ones. Krishna’s house had tourists, but mainly from other parts of India. Completing their pilgrimage.

RK told us about Krishna’s 16,108 girlfriends. Asked me if I was single. When I said yes, he told me I was now Krishna’s girlfriend. Feels good to be #16,109. He spoke about the eternal happiness found in Vrindavan, how our journey starts and ends there, how we can read all the books we want, but when it comes time to learn about yourself, you have to make the journey, how your heart will then always be full of laughter.

Say Jai.

You always say jai afterwards. It means victory. You will be victorious in your journey.

We took shelter in the big red temple with stone from Jaipur as the rain fell harder and harder.

I found a few minutes to sit, feel the mist, and reflect. It has been gray and rainy here the past couple days. Adds to the melancholy and magic of the surrounding. When the rain let up a bit, we walked through the dirty, puddled streets to Mira Bai’s house (Krishna’s main gal) where widows gather and the poor find shelter. And then we rush through the wet alleyways, my leather moccasins soaked through and staining my feet, to find Krishna’s home. A building covered in marble plaques purchased by visitors. They walk us through a Hindu prayer and then start asking for money. Put your name in marble! Honor your ancestors. We sit sort of awkwardly as Jasprit wheels and deals in syllables I have yet to grasp.

Back in the car. A quick stop at some fort (I know, not very informative). And onto Agra.

Pay the “high value” price to get in through the main gate with our guide. Turn the corner, and walk under the entrance arch. Everything perfectly symmetrical. 22 domes on the arch to represent the 22 years it took to build.

Taj Mahal. (You have to do this picture. It is required.)

Built for his late wife. Built as a depiction of how the Koran describes paradise. I hope my husband builds me a paradise one day.

Impressive. Almost floating away like the clouds surrounding it. The structure itself is definitely breathtaking, but the collection of community was even more awe inspiring. People from every inch of the globe coming together to marvel at the #1 wonder of the world (according to an online survey).

As we walked around admiring the marble and prowess, my camera kept finding the smiles and stares of visiting villagers, laughing children, and Italian photographers. I don’t have many words for the Taj Mahal, only images (which are coming soon, still awaiting edits).

We headed home at dark. I fell asleep in the back seat of our van. I awoke having to pee of course (life as a woman). We stopped off at a rest stop, and the smell of burning something streaming from the car tire put our trip back to Delhi to an immediate end. Now, this could have been an epic adventure, but just as we pulled up, so did a bus heading back to the city. And to our luck, they made room for four. Quite a smooth change of plans. Our poor driver was left to figure out how to take care of his broken car, but we were on our way. A quick tuk tuk (small scooter car) ride from the bus stop, and the adventurous day came to an end. I washed my orange feet in the sink and crawled into bed.

Back to Lodhi Garden to start the day. More exploring. A hidden staircase taking me step by step above the rest of the world. What a view! A bit of filming for the RussaYog channel. One local woman joined us for some pranayam. Turns out she is from a well known family. Her husband is the famous tabla player. We actually use his music at the yoga studio. Small world. Very loving and affectionate woman. Hugs and kisses for all. Just the way I like it.

And then a shift. A trip to Old Delhi where the chaos surrounds. Busy bees going to and fro on foot, on bike, on horse, on bullock, in car. We braved the street and crossed with caution. Visited another Sikh temple, Gurudwara Sisganj, this time we took a seat and enjoyed the prayers and music. A wise man at the temple informed us about Sikhism and discussed investigating what meanings are under the surface. “Hidden treasures are always hidden.” Everyday there is a new message outside the temple. A prayer for the day. Today’s was about how true joy in life comes from doing things for others. Sikhism is all about the shared wellness of society.

And then a shift. A crazy rickshaw ride through the narrow, bumpy streets of Old Delhi. Flying by silk and jewelry stores. Colors and smells surrounding the senses. Often coming to standstill as small Indian men pushed huge shipments down the alleys, balanced but threatening disaster at any moment. Everything and everyone inches from my hands. Power lines in tangles overhead. Live chickens being butchered to the left. Arguing store owners to the right. Everything so alive.

And then a shift. Leave the cameras in the car and enter shoeless with head covered and body draped in a decorative hospital gown. Jama Masjid. One of the largest mosques in the world. Since I was cameraless let me paint the picture:

A large plaza with a pond in the middle. Red terracotta-like walls enclosing all four sides. Three round domes standing high in the sky with towers reaching their prowess even higher into the sky. 122 stairs to climb the tight spiral tower staircase, and then, a view of the whole city. Colorful houses. The Red Fort. An epic sprawl from the height of the Mughal empire. Arabic streaming over loud speakers and devotees on their knees bowing towards Mecca.

I hate to admit it, but as the Muslim prayers echoed through the air, the first thing I thought of was Brody…from Homeland. Dang media infiltrating my every moment.

And then a shift. A quick stop at the Delhi World Book Fair where I read a very interesting children’s book. A summary:

There was a young boy from a mother with a “menial job” who would travel a long way everyday to beg. One day on his way home with nothing, he found this pond that magically gave him a pan of food. He ate it and brought it back to his mom. He stopped working and just went to the pond everyday. His mom was pumped. Then one day, the pond was like, what a freeloader, so instead of food that day she put punches, slaps, and kicks in the pan. When he opened it to eat, he got a good beating. He blamed his mom for making him go there everyday, and so he brought the pan home to her, and she got a good beating too. They learned their lesson. The end.

And then a shift. Let the shopping begin! A trip to Janpath, which means everybody’s spot, to stroll the shops and stock up. I was followed by a man selling postcards for about 100 feet. Price started at 150 rupees and ended at 50. Keep an eye out in your mailbox for amazingly kitschy images of “Indian Culture and Folk.” Then onto bigger and better things! Two gorgeous scarves for $7 and my first salwar kameez (traditional clothing, pictures to follow). Finding the perfect one was essential. I headed upstairs in one shop, and the salesman told me to take a seat as he starting showing me pattern after pattern. I had to keep stopping my brain from switching over to Spanish. I am so used to only traveling to foreign Spanish speaking countries. But Hindi words are coming here and there, and a smile says a whole lot. I, of course, settled on a baby blue and pale yellow one with beautiful sunflower-esque embroidery. Definitely a pattern crafted perfectly for me.

And then a shift. Chocolate ice cream to finish off the night. A bit of work, photo uploads, and my new favorite fruit, chikoo, before bed. 6am call time for day four…Agra and the Taj Mahal!

Note: Please excuse capitalization. I typed this on my automatically-corrects-everything iPhone.

6am comes too fast when you went to bed at 2am, but when greeted by a foggy coating hiding mysterious mosques and bright green parrots flapping amongst the trees, the sleepy stupor quickly fades away. today began with a walk through jasprit’s favorite place growing up in delhi as a child, lodhi gardens. a big park full of people doing yoga, working out, strolling, meditating, etc. we joined right in with the locals and started our pranayam (after stopping every minute to take a photograph of course). the movements quickly rejuvenated my body and awakened my senses to the immense beauty surrounding me.

as the sun rose, so did the city. the silence of yesterday’s late night and today’s early morning was gone. replaced by the language of honking horns and hindi. we made our way back to the hotel for a delicious breakfast buffet and chai, perfectly spiced. then a rest. this seems to be how every morning will go. routine. a nice change of pace for me.

onto gurudwara bangla sahib, a sikh temple. an usual feeling of being in such a spiritual setting and not understanding the rituals. take off your shoes, wash your feet, cover your head with a scarf, make an offering. despite jasprit’s attempt to translate the words and prayers being said, i felt like i was missing out on something great. so many people lined up and crowded into a beautiful temple encased in gold. upon exiting, the gift of parsad. a sweetened wheat substance that is very tasty. a symbol of breaking down the caste system. everyone eats together, from the same pot. there is no division. ik onkar, or universal oneness. it is what jasprit teaches in russayog (the style of yoga i am trained in).

everyone drifts to hang out around the man made pond/pool. children laughing. people taking a refreshing dip. and as i was snapping away photo after photo, the tables were turned. we became the celebrities. stares and pointing. all i can do is smile. smile bigger than they smile. teenage indian boys wanting to take a picture with us. indian children coming up to shake our hands.

hands. hands and wrists. jasprit purchased us all a steel bangle or kara. the symbol of thoughts and actions combined to form a continuous circle of linking our thinking to what we do. i don’t usually wear jewelry, but i like this symbol, this simple reminder link mind to body. sort of embodies the ouroboros on my right foot.

and then, the highlight…the bengali market, where i finally had my first authentic indian gulab jamun (sunny this one is for you). indian sweets are delicious. a local recommended rasmalai, which jasprit claimed was “a little better than ice cream.” false. ice cream is still the best thing in the world. but the food is absolutely amazing, and cheap! my meal was 75 rupees or about $1.50.

full bellies mean time for a walk. to india gate to enjoy the array of people. everyone laughing and enjoying the carnival atmosphere. again, becoming celebrities and being stalked (or attacked in sybille’s case) to get henna. children dancing and chasing bubbles. an enchanting police officer thrilled to tell us everything to do in india, and teach me a few important hindi words for a girl like me:

has – laugh
kush – happiness
muskurao – bring a smile to your face
koi baat mahi – no problem

that is all i need to know i think. and maybe shukria, or thank you.

we ended the night in nehru park. a walk through winding dirt paths until dark. a bit of pranayam while the sky faded to an orange haze, and the clouds let a few raindrops slip. it never gets dark here. always something lighting up the way.

according to my computer, i have been flying through the sky for about five hours. that means there is still four more to go followed by a three hour layover in amsterdam followed by seven more hours to delhi. they turned off the cabin lights. it is 6:30pm in portland. i shouldn’t be tired, but i am. stuck in this capsule when time does not exist. we will land in amsterdam, and my body will think it is midnight but it will be 9am. so i should probably sleep right now.

but, my mind is restless.

packed in only a 30 liter backpack and my trusty corduroy jansport. headed to india for a month. everyone wanted to talk to me one last time before i left (sorry for those of you who i missed calling back). wish me luck. ask if i was excited. remind me to bring them back something awesome. tell me it would be a life-changing experience.

all the words just circled around my head as my brain stressed about all the work that needed to get done. can you actually take a month off when you are self-employed? not entirely. finding the balance. that will be the key. remembering that i am experiencing an amazing opportunity, but it is because of my business and amazing clients that i can even go on this trip.

traveling north to south in india with a native. i did not have to plan a thing. emails just appeared in my inbox with updated itineraries, powerpoint presentations, and packing lists. i just continued cramming my days full of work trying to stay focused on the tasks at hand. but now, i am trapped in an airplane. the buzzing hum of the interior lulling my thoughts into silence. making my eardrums and lungs expand. the weird feeling you get when you are too sleepy is setting in. would i be this tired at 6:30pm if i were back in portland on the ground?

what do you do for ten hours in a middle seat? so far i have…

• read four pages of the fountainhead
• wrote in my journal while listening to daisy may
• watched magic mike (slightly awkward to watch on a plane with people sitting next to you)
• ate a pretty decent airplane meal of indian food
• responded to a very well-crafted proposal for my next adventure while listening to sean rowe
• wrote this blog post while listening to the soil and the sun
• watched new woody allen movie, something with rome in the title

estoy cansado. tengo mucho sueno.

time to give into the false night they have provided. five hours to sleep before they serve breakfast. maybe jet lag and i will become friends and not enemies.

day one has begun.

addendum.
we arrived at the delhi airport at 1am. our driver informed us that the hotel had moved us to a different hotel without us knowing. welcome to india! turns out this hotel is nicer anyways. so now we are at hotel gulnar in karol bahg outside of delhi. in bed by 2am and after a 20 hour day of travel, you would think sleeping in would be a must…but no. jasprit (my yoga teacher) and his wife teresa want us up by 6:30am.

good night dogs barking. good night horns honking. welcome to india.