You could've been a star kid...

Rob and I woke up at 7 to be at the meeting spot by 8. The alarm went off but I was already awake, how could I sleep I was about to be in a huge bollywood film. Still a little worried that the whole thing was a hoax and no one would be there but us standing on the corner like two sad lost little puppies, we had a small breakfast while we waited for a man named polo to come take us to our stardom.

Eevntually Polo arrived, as well as about ten other westerners that had been spotted as well and we all hussled into a taxi to the train station. Rob and I got into a cab with two canadians, Margueritte and fat bastard. I'm sure fat bastard had a name, but to me it was not worth remembering, he made crude comments abut girl's weights, told us how liberal he was and that although he once was a redneck he had since shed that skin. I asked if that applied to other things like racism, he said "I'm not racist, I just don't like black people." I said, "I believe thats the definition , sir. Now go away."

The train ride was interesting but by this point all of the exhiliration had turned into exhaustion. After a number of delays someone told us to make sure we stayed in our seats because th next stop was crazy. We did as told but crazy was an understatement. Hundreds of indian men, ran onto the train as if they were in the middle of a rugby match, tackling each other, shouldering their way through and laughing the whole time. It was funny and yet terrifying. All of the sudden we got word that we had to exit and like bullets out of the gun we were shot out of that train faster than I culd say "bollywood star."

Now on the others side, we walked to the gates of the film studios and crossed over into fame. The girls were seperated from the boys and brought into a tiny changing room where we handed the tackiest grossest shimmeriest costumes I've ever seen. It was like bar mitzvahs gone wrong. They were filming a party scene and it was supposed to be fancy. I was the lucky girl who got the see through puke green number to the left. You acn't see the sprakles, and you can consider yourself lucky. After getting our make up and hair done (wich didn't amount to much) we had to sit and wait in this huge room where we very promptly melted all of our make up off, got covered in dirt and became gross in india yet again.

After a couple of hours our time was up and we were all called on to set for a great big musical number, we had to clap on cue, shuffle around the cameras and shake what god gave you to the catchy tune of "hes so handsome, hes so cute, hes a dude so say I do." as the main actor (Akshay Kumar) proposed to the main actress (Prithi Zinta). After many many takes of teh same scene, an old woman falling down behind me and gushing blood from her chin, yet still insisting on being in the film, getting stomped on by the camera men as they zipped aroun to get there shots and craning my neck in akward ways to make sure that I was in as many shots as possible, it was time for lunch. A bunch of already digested slop that was a little less than I expected considering how famous I was about to be.

After lunch we were back on set with scenes of shaking our hands ot music, more clapping, some dancing, and spinning around the room. I was exhausted by hour ten. I felt like crap, I'm pretty sure I looked like crap and I had lost hope that I would have my great debut in that awful green dress when out of no where I got my break. My friend Roni had ran off to ask for a pen and ended up with heaps of make up. I went off to go ask for makeup and they ended up grabbing roni and I and giving us a costume and placement change. So now not only was I in a great blue dress that I loved (which I dont have many pictures of) but I was also seperated from teh mass of other extras and put on teh staircase with roni where there was a clear shot of us. Not only was there a clear shot of us for the film but apparently also for the supporting actor Aman Verma who's eye I caught. In between takes Mr. Verma, the most famous television actor in bollywood, kept coming over to chat with me. (I channeled the summer of hip hop, Rachel V.) and I worked it. I was charming, I was cute and thank god I was no longer in taht green dress. By the end of the scene Mr. Vermas boy was asking for my phone number so that Mr. verma could ask me out and show me Bollywood and Bombay. I was pleased to say the least. But I don't have a phone number and it seemed silly to tell him which crappy guesthouse I was staying in, as if one of the most famous men in india would come pick me up from my trashy backpackers dwellings. So I apologized and said maybe the next time he came to nyc he could look me up.

The day was over and it was now clear into night. A 14 hour shoot and my feet were sore. We were finally given our clothing back and it was quite nice to be wearing somethin that didnt come with sparkles, glitter or ribbons. Rob and I and the rest of the gang collected our days wages and headed back to our backpacker world. We all agreed to meet in the morning for breakfast and maybe a film, only this time we would be in the audience in nice comfy chairs.


Here we are at the end of the day on the way home, from the left: Marguerite, harry, rob, roni, and me.

Just when I thought things couldn't get better...

Rob and I had a tearful goodbye from his brother Tom in Hampi and were off on the most luxurious night bus I have ever seen. The chairs near fully pulled back into beds and when I wasn't sleeping soundly I was bobbling my head enthusiastically to the sounds of bollywood (not karaoke) till we arrived four hours earlier than expected. Never have I arrived early on a bus throughout the five countries I have travelled on this trip. It was brilliant.

Sure that I would hate Mumbai and happy to book a ticket out for that same night I was quite surprised to really enjoy India's most westernized and yet still quite desperate of cities. After handing out candies with morals to children, we spent a good amount of time playing at the post office. They have the most intricate postal system employing heaps of people that are responsible for god knows what tasks. After filling out forms, customs has to rummage through your parcels, then theres another guy who boxes it all up and sews it into a pretty cotton package, then theres another guy (my favorite guy) who applies hot wax to each of the corners of the box and stamps them with his fancy seal, and then you bring your package to another guy who offers you weird sugary bits to eat for your long parcel process and then theres another guy who weighs it and quotes you a price and then theres another guy who takes it and then theres way more whos jobs I couldnt even discern. It was AWESOME. way better than any tourist attraction. I made friends with San Jay the wax stamp guy and tried to convince him to stamp my backpack or shirt or something just cause I thought it was so neat...he of course could not, it being an official stamp and me a potential drug smuggler. or at least this was his arguement. it was still AWESOME.

We decided to deal with Rob's nauseau from the smell of human shit everywhere we went by exploring the world of Indian McDonalds. Yes I know, really. I think that kind of shit is fascinating. How western culture gets translated, if its the same social/economic breakdown of customers, what things they serve, all that. And also the airconditioning was soothing in a land full of sweaty smelly crap.

After a delightful and yet disgusting meal, we decided to continue our western eastern adventure andw ent to the cinema. We chose Pride and Prejudice, as camp and wonderful as they come. But again it was brilliant to see how its all done, India style. We had to buy tickets as if it were a theater, paying different prices for better seats, and then we all had to rise for the national anthem and there was an intermission and crazy women flipfloppng loudly down the stairs at key moments like when darcy confesses his love for elizabeth and the snack were all meaty. It again was AWESOME. Rob and I were practically skipping as we walked along to go check email and find some food and then it happened.

It had been such a lovely day. We were both so excited about how so many little things could have felt so fulfilling and how pleased we were with our time in Mumbai when we were stopped by a man named Polo.

Polo was a spotter for one of the TOP bollywood films and he wanted us to be in it! We would be picked up at 8am, it would take the whole day, they would feed us and pay us. We were about to become bollywood stars.

We rushed to the train station practically shaking from excitement and by practically I mean definetly shaking from excitement. Its what everyone hopes for when they come to mumbai. Westerners walk around all day looking for spotters, trying desperately to get noticed and we just bloody walked right into it. We changed our tickets, got a room and tried to sleep, cause we knew that we had quite the exciting day ahead of us, quite the exciting day...

happy in hampi

hampi is nice. I like hampi. Ori, Dana, Roye and I ended up catching a taxi all the way from hubli to hampi where we had to run with our rucksacks on to the boat, stepping very cautiously from bag of sand in the river to bag of sand--each step certain that the weight of our bags would tip us over into the water.

soon after we arrived I ran into my friend Rob (from Palolem) and Roni and Yulie who had come to hampi ahead of us. We checked into our rooms, enjoyed a nice israeli dinner in india and then I went to catch up with my friends from the olden days of a week ago.

Since then I've spent the days swimming in a magical lake, jumping off of insanely high boulders (8 meters=extremely high), battling monkeys on the monkey temple, haggling for cheap clothes, melting in the sun and swinging on lovely hammocks. I think its mostly the magic of the lake--never have I been made soooo happy by a body of water, refreshing, rejuvenating all those "re" words over and over again. it really felt magical.

I haven;t been sleeping terribly well and I keep waking up in confused and sad hazes, which just makes me think that this place is even more magical that it can make so happy depsite all that...I'm getting a little homesick I guess, wishing there were more people to hug me when I wake from bad dreams in the mornings and more big cuddly dogs to sleep with me at night while I have them...if only I could come see you all for a week and then head back out into the vastness...

much love and magical lakes and crazy monkeys to do battle with,
maya

p.s. even as a bad ass jumping off of boulders, I still manage to be a geek holding my nose as I jump...such is life.

Amma loves Mambo

So a couple of days ago my uncle ori told me that if your karma is right then you will get to meet the hugging mother, but if your karma is not so ready then you will not meet her. It was a not so subtle way of peer pressuring me into staying in gokarna with the rest of the family and then making the journey to Karwar to meet the female guru Amma, or the hugging mother, or as I have dubber her "mama amma." I can't deny a rhyme.

I had planned on taking the backwater trip to mama amma's ashram in kerala to meet her, but my uncle ori also informed me that she was almost always on "hug tours" and that this might be my only chance to meet her. (He's quite a good salesmen, dod sheli).

So, we took the boat ride to the bus to karwar. i tried to ignore the child that kept coughing on me, in what is inevitably an overcrowded bus ride with not enough stops. I made many efforts to think of a more loving response than my instinct which was to smack her..."she's sick, she's suffering more than I am right now..." and other such excuses to not get frustrated with her acts of spreading germs...I figured I better get my karma in line if I were to meet the mother that and maybe its not so good to let my fear of germs lead to violence...

We checked into what I thought was the nicest hotel I've stayed in yet, with a tv and tile floors (tile really goes along way when you've had dirt floors for weeks). And then at about 4pm we walked over to the football stadium to get a good number in the hugging line. The ceremony wasn't supposed to begin till about 9pm, but apparently 4pm was a late arrival. There were about 10,000 indians already there and eventhough we were allowed to cut most of the lines (a form of racism I'm not so okay with) we still had a ridiculously high number. These events are known to go through the night, starting at 10pm, mama amma will hug for over 14 hours straight, without food, water, bathroom breaks. She gets no time to stretch her hugging arms or arise from her decidedely cramped huiggin posture. And although I think that is amazing I did not want to join her for fourteen hours of waiting for a hug.

Luckily, I am white. and therefore along with all of the other perks that I may find in my country, I was privileged to change my ridiculously high number for a ridiculously small number and again cut all the crowds of indians that had been waiting for over ten hours.

The men were seperated from the women and so Dana and I were sitting alone among all the white clad ashram devotees. They were a remarkebly international crowd full of folks that I would never expect to fins living in an ashram in india. There were defiently some that I would look at and say, "yes, yes you belong in an ashram." but there were others where I had to pause and ask myself, "is that my accountant??" or " I think thats the women who did my hair in san francisco." They were all very kind and lovely people, and they answered my many questions to the best of their abiulities.

Apparently, for those who don;t know. The ashram in kerala is more like an "ash-colony" with over 2,500 people living there full time. They call Amma, "the mother" and believe that she is a physical manifestation of love. That when she sings she sings love and when she hugs you may experience love. Amma has published many books and cds teaching her philosophy of love, that of course were for sale along with hats that said "amma in karwar." merchadise merchandise merchandise.

Dana and I got bored and so we went to talk to heaps of indian girls and ask them about school and clothing and what they thought of amma and they invited us to come to the temple to pray with them which we did. We rand bells and they painted our faces with tikkas (the red dots) and the silver streaks to open our minds. And then it was showtime.

The people from the ashram alternated between shoving me up the line and wiping my face off with napkins (apparently you cant be greasy when in the presence of love). There was definetly an energy to the whole thing, but I dont know if it would've been any different from the energy of having zero agency of yourself or direction, a little bit like a stampede...quickly quickly, they asked me what language I spoke, I said english, not that it mattered because it wasnt like I was allowed to take counsel with the guru, instead they shoved me into her armpit as she whispered "am,amamamamamamamamamamamamamama" into my ear, and then poof like that I was gone, shoved and pulled and pushed to the side where I was told that mama amma has invited me to sit on stage with her to meditate. I agreed and in a daze I sat down on stage. I felt honored till I realized that it again had nothing to do with my karma, but rather my skin color, because everyone else on stage was also white... so I left. who knew love came in the form of a racist armpit! not I, said the girl with a new red dot on her forehead, not I.

I believe in don quijote. I believe in life as a story that we tell ourselves, and the importance of such cultural mytholgies as the hugging mother. I believe that it is a lovely story to devote yourself and your life to what you believe is enlightenment and the physical manifestation of love. Do I believe that I am now enlightened because I got shoved into some ladies armpit?? hmmmm...you tell me.

gokarna. gosucka. but not anymore.

gokarna was not my favorite place at first. what with sleeping in the dungeon kitchen with the deadly ants and rats, its not terriby ahrd to see why. Its also incredibly sleepy and filled with hippies of the rainbow variety, is anyone getting that picture? its filled with dreads and people waving their hadns about as if they were zombies trying to swat at flies.

well I was ready to go but then my family decided that I needed to stay. they told me that I had to go hug the hugging mother (which is something that has always been on my to do list--a woman whos miracle is to hug, other people work in factories, some people make coffee, this chick gets to hug people, it makes me smile, which I guess is part of why she's a guru). Anyways, they, my family, mispacha, said that i needed to stay an extra three days and then go with them to hug the mother and then carry onwards to hampi.

I was torn because I was supposed to meet my new friends in hampi and also was still not in love with gosucka. The uncle ori uped the anti, spiritual peer pressure I call it. What are you chicken? he says, "dont worry about it, if your karma is not ready to meet the guru then you will not meet the guru and you can go to hampi." HA! what a laugh! my karma not being ready to meet a guru! I was born ready! I dont actually believe that, but it didnt seem right to leave because I was feeling really run down and emotional and didnt think traveling alone vulnerable through india seemed like a neat idea. SO I stayed and now I wait on this here beach, which really isnt that bad (now that we are sleeping in a room with a bed) and on Wednesday we go to hug.

I just got an email from my new friends saying there plans changed too and they wont be making it to hampi till I get there after the hugging of the mother and all that, so it looks like I made the right choice. whatever that means.

Oh and I've decided to try and make my way to Israel for April and maybe May, unless someone has another idea...

Shelly, in hebrew bitch is "kevla." ata lo kevla. ( I think. feel free to correct me, I am but a beginner)

finally, india

Today I left with my family to Gokarna, which is in the state of Karnataka. Since it is outside of the safe little bubble of Goa it is decidedely india. While we were waiting for the bus Dana, Roni, Julie and I walked along the cow filled filthy streets looking for lessons--all the things about India that they wanted to teach me. We found a little hut where a man squeezed sugar cane through a machine that was probably made before the industrial revolution, maybe. We passed the cup around, pretending to be generous but really trying to get the others to drink it so you wouldnt have to.
Then we went to sample all the bizarre little indian sweets. As Dana described, "first they take like cheese cake, then marzipan and then something gross." After a hard sell like that I just couldn't resist. She was right and it was delightful, maybe even because of the gross part.
The next shop over sold Indian barbie dolls and monopoly with rupees and mumbai place and then we settled down for some really good indian food and heaps of locals. Probably the best meal Ive had here.
The bus was cramped and dusty--something I certainly miss from Laos. Only this time people were way more willing to stare. I covered up as much as I could and settled down for my hebrew lesson from Julie. So, now I know "to learn, to love, to know, to speak, to walk, to go, to have, bitch, family, but, with, lets go, why, when, because, here, there and of course, leave me alone..." there are other new phrases beefing up my vocabulary but I'll save you from listing them all.
After the bus we walked through the sleepy and yet hectic town of Gokarna to the beach where we got on a long wooden boat with a silly little motor. it rode like a roller coaster and we barely stayed above water but if you disregarded all of the ways in which we were doomed, it was a blast.
We arrived just before sunset and sent out our scouts, Dana's boyfriend Roy (who is the best salesman/negotiator I've ever met) and Julie. They returned to inform us that the best rooms we would find on this shore were a cement floor in a kitchen of a temple. Finally, a bedroom with a stove. All my life I've thought why can't I sleep and bake at the same time. Here in India my dreams can come true. Ah, to be in a holy country.
We will try and move to new accomodations tomorrow, in the meantime I think that I can handle how crappy it is simply becuase its absurd. Anything is tolerable, as long as it is also funny.

other stuff

in other news, I finished my reiki course and am proud to say that I have much stronger sensitivity to the energies now and can feel the spirals and the chakras and identify energy blockages and all that good stuff.

I also met three really great girls Claire, Laura and Kate through the course and have met two more of their friends, Kate and Pauley, and have developed quite a nice group here in goa. I met two more guys, brothers actually, Rob and Tom, through reiki (only he took the course that we should've taken...the one where you learned from the teacher, not in spite of the teacher). Almost all of us will be meeting up again in Hampi and onwards because our paths are so similar and they are all so fun and sweet.

what else, what else...I don't know that I will want to leave in April...my cousin dana and her boyfriend Roy keep telling me of all of their travels and ways to make money while you travel and boy oh boy does it sound good. I will wait to make any decisions though. Right now I am in Goa and things are easy and comfortable. After two months in India I may want to come home way sooner than April.

Anyone want to come to Japan with me and teach english? they say its really good money...

there are people in this world that look like me...

...they are called the Gat family. I love my american family, don'te get me wrong. But really, they do not look like me. I have never had the experience of sitting around a table and looking at so many people that look so much like me or my father or my brother, and besides weirding me out and making me stare a little bit too long, I love it!

My Israeli family emailed me three days ago to say that they were traveling to India and Goa. My cousin Dana, who is only two years younger, was only a few towns away. I emailed her back and the next night someone shouted my name and ran up to hug me on the main street in Palolem. Not only was I glad that it was not some strange Indian man, but I was ecstatic that it was my cousin Dana. She and her boyrfriend Roy and I spent most of that night talking about our travels, and how they paid there way by selling fake rolexes in japan and what it was like in jail in new york and other such absurdities that we'd experienced along the ways. I also finally got to ask all of my burning questions about the Israelis I had met along my travels who kept coming across as arrogant. They told me that in hebrew they call them arsem and that not all young israelis were like that. I was happy to know that my cousin was not. For hours we laughed and got to know each other, basically for the first time.

The next day we went in search of new bungalows for us all to stay in, because later that day my aunt roni, uncle ori and other cousin julie were coming to palolem as well. I took notes as Roy haggled geniusly over room prices. eventually, roy convinced them that making less money was a good idea for them and that if it wasnt he would cut off his own penis (a tactic I hope to use one day) and we settled in three basic bungalows with a private beach for cheaper than any other bungalows Ive heard of.

By the time I finished my reiki course and had a savory bowl of cereal (dont ask me how they made cornflakes taste meaty), the rest of my family arrived and the staring began. My uncle ori looks so much like my father that I was genuinely confused. Somehow they have aged in the same ways and their features have changed in the same ways and their voices are deep in the same way, but in every other way they are so different. It felt like I had taken the wrong pill and followed some freaky rabbit down some crazy whole cause all of the sudden my 'father' was a hippie--and for those of you who know my father, and dad I know you're reading this as well--that man aint no hippie!

After awhile I adjusted to how similar my uncle looks to my father and how similar I think julie looks to me and my grandmother and how similar dana looks to julie and how my father and brother look like them all and they all look like me. We all shared some chai and talked for awhile on the beach and in the bungalows.

I love my cousins. They are so kind and funny and gracious. Last night Dana taught the whole family a crazy japanese dance that we practiced over and over again and julie and I, who are sharing a bungalow, staye up till three in the monring talking about politics and boys and life. And today I went for a walk with julie and roni and the two of them are trying to teach me hebrew, well mostly julie, but I've always wanted to learn and its so nice that they want to help me. So far I've learned the words for "cat, dog, bull, cow, butterfly, sea, beach, I want, I dont know, I know) and by learned I mean, maybe I know them a little bit better than i did before. But I will try and pick up some more because they are all making such an effort to include me in conversations and speak only english. And although it is fun for me like a game of charades to gues the words when they cant think of them, I know it must be taxing to constantly speak in a foreign language.

So, in conclusion I have to come to India on my own, a land of strangers--and I have met my family, who till now were strangers. The world is bizarre but I love it.

In Goa...not quite India...

I chose to make my way to India through Goa because I thought that maybe India would be a little too full-on. I didn't realize, however that Goa is so far from India that it is ridiculously laid back.

I met an Israeli boy on the plane called Idan, who convinced me to join him to Palolem. I didn't have a very specific plan, knew that plans weren't terribly helpful when traveling and said why the hell not.

It's rather peaceful here, and INCREDIBLY western. It's a beach and thats about all I can gather so far. Not much compared to Ko PhaNgan. But as the fates would have it, within my first five minutes here I was offered the opportunities I was seeking: a reiki circle and course and a volunteer opportunity with animals. The reiki begins tomorrow and I am pretty stoked about it, the animal shelter I still have to work out some kinks. But I'm thinking if it works, the two will be well suited--I can practice the reiki on the animals that I will be helping and all will be well in the kingdom of me.

I'm pretty exhausted, traveling for 48 hours and finally taking one of those naps that leaves you more worn out than when you started. I'm off to dinner now with my new co horts.

Just wanted to let you all know that I made it to India (although its hard to call it that).

I heart Ko PhaNgan!

So relieved to leave Cambodia, Cailtin a little too relieved (please refer to her blog for further details on that hilarity) we reached Bangkok. Everything seemed instantly easier. The streets that seemed crazy before and the people that seemed impolite were glorious now that we had been through Cambodia. Everything really is relative.

We tooled around for awhile, well really I did because Caitlin was still quite sick and hiding in the one spot of shade she could find on busy Khao San Rd. and finally headed off to the train station--trains, so much better than buses. filled with the sense of relief that the difficult part of my trip was over Caitlin and I roder and slept in what felt like luxury. In the morning we had to switch to a bus to a ferry boat and float on past all of the beautiful tropical islands watching as the water got bluer and clearer and the trees got greener and tropicalier (?) till we reached our slice of heaven, Ko PhaNgan. We had met a North London Boy named Rodney who swayed us to stay a a guesthouse called Rainbow. The people who stayed at rainbow apparently didn't like to leave. Rod had been there for a month and was returning for another, his friend Charlie has been returning every year for almost a decade. We roped this Dutch girl Karen and this Polish boy David into staying at Rainbow and were off, tuk tuking down the lane.

This place is beautiful. Really, right out of a postcard. The bungalows are literally on the beach, the water is crystal and warm, the hammocks hang from palm trees and the food is gorgeous. It feels remote but is really only 10-15 minutes from town and town is ine giant spring break party. People call coming home at 4am an early night!

After a few days of sun bathing, skin browning and attending really bad raves that remind me of an epsiode of the twilight zone starring pacey from dawson's creek where the music was turning teenagers into machines so that they would be prepared for the apocalypse, I am pretty damn relaxed. The people here have been excellent company and I certainly have regained a sense of what it means to be single. I never went on a proper "spring break" in college. I'm pretty sure this comes close.

Caitlin and I spend our days bouncing from beach to beach, sitting in saunas and steam rooms and I think later today going for a massage. Tomorrow, I believe snorkeling awaits and perhaps more of the ever desirable floating (Caitlin's favorite sport).

I've got one more day of glory and then the train back to Bangkok and a flight over to Mumbai. I thought that this island would rejuvenate me, but really all its down is intoxicate me with its charms so that I'm not so sure I want to head out to the full-on wonders of India quite yet...

wishing you all could enjoy the white beaches and blue waters of Thailand with me,

maya