Sunday, March 22, 2009

Goa-a-gogo!






pictures in order are:
1. Jane and I re-enacting a Christmas scene, inspired by a bizarre chair with really long armrests in our hotel room.
2. The view from our hotel in Goa.
3. Our first hotel in Goa...gorgeous flowers!!
4. Jane relaxing on the veranda of her teacher´s riverside mansion after her Indian cooking class.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

A Tibetan Wedding and Past Lives

So I am now in Goa now, a VERY touristy beach town, but first here are some blips I wrote about Dharamsala when I didn't have Internet access.
I really like Dharamsala because anything can happen. For example, one night I come home at about 7 o'clock to find a small boy sprawled out on my bed in our one-room apartment. He is watching TV and looks about eight years old, the same age as the son of my host mom who I have yet to meet.
"Hello," I said.
"Hello."
"Are you Rangdal?"
"Yes."
"I'm Norah, nice to meet you." I mean, what else are you supposed to say? "Hi, I'm Norah, the one who's been sleeping in your bed and using your blankets and living in your house for the past two weeks?" So it was a little awkward. Luckily, his thirteen-year-old sister suddenly bursts through the door and said, "You want dinner?"
Anyone who knows me knows this is a silly question.
"Yes," Rangdal and I reply.
"Come to party!" she exclaims, and, grabbing her jacket, explodes out the door. I barely have time to get my shoes back on before we are all clambering down the steps, of which there are probably several hundred, onto the dirty cold street. Tsering-Tso (thats the older sister) and Rangdal take off down the street, with me huffing and puffing several feet behind. Suddenly they make an abrupt jag to the right and begin flying up another set of infinitely narrow and crumbly steps cut into the hillside. There are no street lamps so I am basically hoping we get there soon and I don't die a narrow and crumbly death. Rangdal is taking like three steps at a time, which makes me feel slow and clumsy. What is he, like four feet tall? I only nearly break my neck and die maybe twice. Finally we get to a street and whoosh, pass a man biting into an orange. I can smell the zest for maybe a second before the kids dart to the left towards a building, and up and up and up the building steps to the third floor, where there are two huge double doors waiting and we burst through them.
And there, in that room, which is probably seating 300 people, is a Tibetan wedding. Everyone pauses mid-chew and turns to see the newcomers, which must be something, because we are red and sweaty and I'm pretty sure my nose is running from the cold. I try to smile. I don't know what to do. Where is my host mom?
"Ama! Ama!" yell Tsering-Tso and Rangdal, looking for their mom. I am tempted to join them but decide to save a bit of dignity if at all possible. Then we see her, all petite and dolled up in her nicest chupa, smiling. She shoves plates into our hands and pushes us into the buffet line, which is stocked with all kinds of chicken and mutton and noodles.
After a good full meal, Rangdal and his friends do a break dance show for me and kick a few tables over in the process. Then we all dance in a circle with the Tibetan bride and groom and their relatives. I feel a little strange, not only because I am wearing sweatpants and a windbreaker to a wedding, but because I don't know the bride and groom at all. I whisper this to Tsering-Tso and she shrugs her shoulders. "Neither do I," she says.
Then I decide to head back home. Rangdal and Tsering-Tso are concerned that I won't know the way by myself, but how hard can it be? I figure as long as I keep going down eventually I will hit the main street.
So I start out, then realize that now it is officially pitch black outside and I am attempting to traverse uneven, crumbly steps the width of a hamburger. I think I just might die. I sort half-walk, half-slide down a couple sets of stairs before landing with a thunk at the bottom of a courtyard, running smack into a young guy who has just opened the door from his apartment. He yelps in surprise and leaps back a couple feet. Then he smiles all gentlemanly and asks me to please go ahead on the path in front of him. He's got his cell phone on in front of him creating a bluish beam of light, so I convince him to go first so I can follow. Finally, we make it down to the street and I casually thank him for saving my life. I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm crazy but hey, I could have broken a leg on that hill.
Later on, Tsering-Tso and Rangdal come home draped in what looks like every single wedding guest's kata. So we have a photo shoot. The end! What a crazy night.

I met a really nice Spanish woman here in Dharamsala whom I'll call "Lisa." Lisa was living in Barcelona. She had a nice job, she lived in a nice house, and every day she could come home to a nice boyfriend and a nice dog. But one day, she realized that she wasn't happy. She wanted to travel and see the world, and she couldn't do that in Barcelona. So, Lisa left everything behind and went to Dharamsala. There she met "Tenzin," a romantic young Tibetan guy who worked at a restaurant and talked to her every day when she passed by. They got married six months later. This is the Lisa I met, a rosy-cheeked, lovely and happy Lisa who playfully swatted her Tibetan husband in between squeezing my arm in delight over funny jokes and exciting stories. I had many an interesting conversation with her, especially about past lives.
Once Lisa had a Tibetan friend, "Dolma," who knew a lot about discovering people's past lives. Dolma told Lisa that she used to be a dolphin. This is why Lisa loved swimming and having fun and being sociable. Dolma, however, had an even more interesting story for why she and Lisa were such close friends.
According to Dolma, there once was a beautiful French woman who came to Rome to study painting. There, she fell in love with a handsome and dashing Italian man. Soon she discovered he was a famous actor and became even more determined to win his affections. When they met, the man instantly fell in love with the woman. They had a tumultuous love affair with its ups and downs, but were generally very happy together. Then one day, the actor left his French lover behind to pursue his career. She was heartbroken and pregnant.
Immediately after the birth of her beautiful baby girl, the French woman died. Soon after, her estranged Italian lover died in an unnatural way. With no family or relatives, the beautiful little girl was sent to an Italian orphanage. There, she was welcomed with open arms by a young nun, Sister Margherita, who brought the girl up as if she were her own child. They became good friends as the girl grew, and remained in touch even after the girl reached adulthood.
"I was the girl and you were the nun," Dolma explained to Lisa. "In our past lives together, you were the reason I had a happy childhood." And that, according to Dolma, was why she and Lisa were such good friends today.