Thanksgiving

Nearing the end of this Thanksgiving weekend, I am grateful for so much:

- For Manna's amazing kitchen and culinary skills and also that I didn't eat as much as I could have.
- For my daughters, Bita and Matata, who both came to spend our first Thanksgiving together since Bi left for college in 2003.
- For Judy and Joe who have repaired furnaces, moved equipment, and shared kids, food and music to make us all comfortable and welcome. Judy further endured hours of shopping and shlepping us all to the malls -- with her usual grace and smile.  She was grateful that we shop less now than we used to.
- For my traveling companion, Komal, and her amazing family who made our Thanksgiving so special.
- For the cold weather which makes me happy I live in India most of the time.
- For warm coats and gloves that make me happy to be here now.
- For Lori and Mimi who danced with me last night to Joe's Bruce Springsteen band, even though I danced once in stocking feet and next in my hot pink reflecting sneakers.
- For all the friends and family members who have hosted, feted and feasted us over the past 3 months and nearly 11,000 miles. I'm only now beginning to process the enormous outpouring of care, love and warmth I've been surrounded by -- that I'm still surrounded by. It's quite overwhelming.

May your holiday season be as joyful and as full of surprises.

Glorious Days

Something about the coziness of being in this 'efficiency' apartment that invites me to write. So we are in DC now and the apartment is Bi's. Washington DC where everything is Capitol and Presidential, American and First. Many a day have passed since I wrote last. Many people, many vistas, trees and miles! So, the day we were leaving Atlanta, we stopped on the way out to meet Shalini - a college friend, who I hadn't seen or met since 1983. How does one 'catch up' on 27 years of connection that has been like an underground stream - there but not seen, heard or even felt? And then suddenly 'it' reappears. Surfaces. Now it is alive and bubbling!

From Atlanta to Tryon, on the border between North and South Carolina. It's in the North part of this gorgeous gorgeous belt of hill, lake and color dripping trees. A word about the trees from today - I think people living in America are so fortunate. How wonderful it must be to wake up everyday - during Fall - and walk out of the door into the fairyland that this landscape. It's like living in a painting!

To continue - Yep! done it again - the scenic-drive meandering through my conversation here. Ok, to continue - So we went to Tryon, near Asheville and met The Davins, who are absolutely lovely. They live in a beautiful house by a little lake and the golf course. The porch is covered and has windows wrapping it in light, color and the moon glow when it shone in the night smiling at us at the dining table and as Carol's hidden stream of energy was fed by these loving elders from her past.

From Tryon to Charlotte, North Carolina. The romantic, the gracious, the home of Margaret Mitchell. Perhaps she spelled out the words of Gone With the Wind sitting on the swing in a gazebo and blooming magnolia trees leaned over her shoulders to take a sneak peak at the book, while slim pencil-pillars holding up terraces and porches of her mansion provided a backdrop that stretched into the Carolina blue skies.

And, at this time, I am about to wind up this little piece about our lives and others'. Today is Prithvi's birthday. We are going out for lunch. Carol and I have packed to move from Mala's house in Fairfax to Michele's in Arlington. This DC stay has very interesting elements. We'll share them - teser in a wrinkle in our packed time to the quiet writing zone! (That was a reference to two books that we have met that talked about time travel. REad/hear them!
1) A Wrinkle in Time. 2) When You Reach Me)

With lots of love.
It is a sunny happy bright, post rain day that is inviting us out.

Komal

Inside Job

Cousin Debbie, Komal and I went to a movie tonight, the first we've seen since coming to the US. "Inside Job" is worth seeing. As the promo poster promised: "If you don't leave this movie enraged, you weren't paying attention."

Because I know that it's more productive to fight for something rather than against something, I'm all fired up right now to support strong regulation of financial markets and institutions. But I have to admit to rather strong urges to shoot some of the smug sonofaguns who clearly have no intention of behaving differently. And I'm disappointed in the academics who, for some reason, I think should act objectively instead of being bought out like everyone else.

I'm enjoying Charlotte, being with Debbie, and the gorgeous fall weather and colors. Another long walk planned for tomorrow morning, then we'll be off to Raleigh/Wake Forest. 

Skirt counting

"I only have 16 long cotton skirts left!"
"Yes, you've sold at least half already."
"And 6 short ones and 9 silk ones."

So the morning begins: coffee by Terry, kid picture sharing (Bi, Mattie, Adam, Halina), skirt sharing accompanied by flute blowing. Terry is heading to Los Angeles this morning, needing to get Bela the dog over to her friend for the weekend,  yet we find time to relax, to exclaim, to enjoy these moments. Last night after driving nephew Gaurav back to campus, we were treated to videos of Halina's performances -- what a voice and stage presence that young woman has!

A beautiful visit, unlike any other we've enjoyed so far; each has been unique, unexpected, irreplaceable.

Today, on to visit The Davins. Always written in capitals for me, after so many years. They've retired from Glen Ellyn to Tryon, North Carolina.

Partial Statistics

I checked this evening.

58 - days into the road trip

9106 - miles added to Sweet Chariot since we started.

26 - states we have driven through
Connecticut, Massachussets, New YOrk, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan,
Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, South Dakota, Wyoming, Idaho, Utah, Nevada,
California, Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, Texas, Louisiana, Mississipi, Alabama,
Florida, Georgia

5 - states traveled through in one day
Texas, Louisiana, Mississipi, Alabama, Florida

9 - Cuisines tried
Lebanese, Mexican, Tex Mex, Thai, Indian, Chinese, Lousiana, All American Hotdogs,
Chicago Deep Dish Pizza

4 - minutes before my computer dies.

Good night.
To be continued later.

Love,
Komal

Fall is

It is an interesting time capsule that I entered through the doorway of trees coloring themselves into fall. Red, orange, yellow and shades in between that were so beautiful and so intense that as I walked through this doorway and we drove all those miles and as the landscape changed I did not even notice that there were places during the drive that were not changing their greens. Until now. I am in this amazing sun room in Atlanta, Georgia, in Terry's house watching yellow leaves drip and float down to the peach and pink orange - everything has changed again. In these woods near Emory University, a mile away from seemingly everywhere, I can hear the water running as Terry does things in the kitchen and the sound of the season in full bloom.

Today we are in Atlanta, the land of Marting Luther King and Jimmy Carter. Also Gaurav - nephew, Babbu Mausi - Shani Narang's sister, Shalini Subbarao from college, Frank - Christine's son who is a new father, Shreyas - Shrikant's son. I am delighted that I am surrounded by this energy of people I know and of. I have spoken with some and will meet some. I may also miss meeting someone that I thought I would definitely meet. I may also meet someone inside me who is known and someone who I may discover, quite by chance as I gather my jacket to fold me in warmth, smiling at the wind. I feel the sun on my grey leopard print sock, and enjoy the tickling of its heat, as I feel movement in me and around me. Sitting here watching the leaves and being touched by the sense of time traveling at a slow, pleasurable, morning-walk pace I wonder at this woman - Komal - who has come all the way from Delhi, India, spent time money energy to be here and driven all these miles for something - and that something is this witnessing.

With love and gratitude,
Komal

Things to do in Houston

Laundry
Blog
Arrange and Picasa publish photographs
Plan and route the rest of the trip
Get table at the bar for the Divine Ale by Draft
Drink above ale
Go to Comic Sportz
Line Dance
Visit NASA
Eat TEXMEX
Diwali

"The title?"... hmmm, let me think.....

In Houston, in a room that is adorned by sunlight bowing in appreciation through the window, Pippin periodically four footing it in to announce something important in the dog world, Carol blowing dust from the 1500 piece puzzle that we have started and the time and space to sit and allow all the thoughts and wishes to surface, to find blog space, to be whisked around in my belly by all the ready to digest juices.

And once again, folks that, above was a long sentence belonging to the tribe of words that will have their way to out and be spoken. So, the thoughts and wishes that I had about blogging - to write about all the people that I have met in the last few days that I wanted to write about. To write down a calender of places that we have been and the people we met there. Such a list sits right now in a crumpled napkin from Something Different, the Teriyaki Bowl restaurant that we went to in Portales, and partially in the trusty red notebook that also holds important things like money accounts, phone numbers and the miles we have covered in this trip.

Invariably what comes up is, "But why is that important? Why would anyone like to know all this? Why am I blogging this trip? What difference would it make to the life of the person that I write about? And what kind of vanity and pride is this that enjoys putting out the words and inviting ... no not inviting... exhorting people to read them and then feels a nice plump satisfaction when there are comments - for example Alex's on the last post - and responses"
Well, I'm expressing these little thoughts as I still think of the title. And just to let everyone know that while the title may take long coming, I have no difficulty talking here about the fantasticness of this whole trip in all its stages, rests, people stops, pitstops and laundry stops.

On 4 November 2010, in Nancy and Cary's house. Nancy is Carol's sister. I have heard about her over the years. Hearing about what she does, where she lives, who her children and husband are, why she likes and does not like to do different things is one experience and meeting her, sitting in her kitchen, eating her chili at 9.30 pm and laughing like a loud hyena held at gunpoint at all the jokes that Nancy and Cary cracked, is another thing. There is a comfort in knowing her and not knowing her at all.

Then there is the other aspect of sibling relationships that is a feature of this trip. Alok and Rahul - my brothers - and their families have lived in the US for years/decades. This is the first time I am visiting them. And though I have 'known' them forever, and met them hundreds of times since they have been in America, on their visits to India, in many ways meeting them in their homes has been as fresh as meeting Nancy. Looking at the perspective of being away from 'home' - Carol has been away from home in Africa, Pakistan, India. Rahul, Alok have been away from home in America. Each one of us is 'at home' where we are. The boundaries of country, land, house all telescopically zoom in to being at home in ourselves, our lives. And here I am, at home in my body and being, drinking great coffee and blogging. I could b e anywhere in the modern internet supported world!

Still thinking of title.

Waiting to..... exhale(?)

Inside us there is a river born in the good cold

that longs to give itself to the Gulf of light

and there is another river more like the Missouri

that carries earth, and earth joys and the earthly.

‘The Two Rivers’ by Robert Bly

Random quote from book on side table in guest room at Melanie’s in Santa Fe.  A welcome reminder of why I’m traveling, why I walk the path I chose again this morning. Which is more important, the tangible beauty that fills every waking moment of canyons- clouds-colors or the intangible joy in the longing to be? Clearly not the right question. A better one would be: How can I keep a balance between the worlds of being and doing?

Melanie is showering us with gifts of hospitality and friendship; I’m listening to her latest CD with the apt title “Along the Way”. Another reminder of the gifts that we’re receiving from those who are sharing our journey in large and small ways. 

Fast forward to Day 3 in Portales, New Mexico, home of “17,000 friendly folks and 3 or 4 old grouches” according to the welcome sign on Route 70 about a mile down from our base, the Sands Motel. On Day 1 we left Santa Fe at 4 a.m. with the intention of reaching Houston 14-15 hours later. It didn’t start out so well: I got confused and got on the highway the wrong way, then cut through the emergency median which I’d never do in the daylight.  Either I was picking up on Sweet Chariot’s energy (our beloved Land Rover Discovery) or she was picking up on mine -- just short of Fort Sumner, a horrendous clanking brought us to a sudden stop. We called AAA, but it was too early on Sunday morning and we had to wait 3 hours for a tow. Merlin was worth the wait, setting us up with a good, cheap hotel and a reliable mechanic before giving us a guided tour of Portales which includes the small campus of Eastern New Mexico University, home of the Greyhounds. Yesterday, we gave up on finding a cheaper alternative to ordering a new drive shaft and had David the mechanic order a new part. Today we wait to see if UPS will get it here today or tomorrow.

So how does this forced period of waiting fit into my journey? Is there something waiting for me in Portales? Something to learn? Maybe that Komal remains my ideal travel companion, taking everything in stride (we’re walking a lot) and with a smile that elicits warmth and advice from shopkeepers, waitresses and teenagers on the street. Perhaps a reminder of my own arrogance: why do I keep thinking of this as the middle of nowhere? Every soul is the center of his/her own universe.

Just spoke to David. The part is on its way and we’ll be on ours this afternoon. On to new places, people and universes.   

Have you ever wondered about the intensity of being in your life, in your day?

These two days in Portales, New Mexico have been - only one way to put it - so in the moment for me!

We arrived here at noon and thirty on 31-10-10, sitting in the cab of ABC Towing Service truck, driven by Murlyn, occasionally peeping in the side view mirror to reconfirm that Sweet Chariot was on the tow platform, chained and secure and going with us to find a new drive shaft for her and someone who would fix it on Halloween Sunday.

Murlyn took us to David (who took on the car), took us to find Sands Motel and showed us the entire town including the big grocery store, the many restaurants and the University complex. So here we were, in Room 25 of Sands Motel, waiting for the car to be functional again.

To describe the transition from functional to KABOOM to waiting - we left Santa Fe 15 minutes behind schedule, at 4.15 AM to drive all the 800 miles to Houston. We were excited about the long drive, itching to get our feet and teeth into the almost 15 hour drive. Pocahontas was great - she had us on a great route. We started on the Old Santa Fe Trail, turned left on the Old Pecos Trail and were out of Santa Fe, again into the sea of darkness. We picked up fuel, drove for hour and a half, changed drivers and there I was at the wheel, feeling great, in my body and delighted at the adventure of the drive ahead.

7.30 AM, the sky had pinked beautifully, the sun was raising its brilliant bald head, Carol had saluted it with the new flute she had bought from Sky Redhawk the previous day. We were deep in the thrill of an audio book that was nearing finish - A Wrinkle in Time.

"KHA-DUNK- - - DUNKKK --- DHHUNNKK ---" sort of describes what happened next. Quick to react Carol said, "We've got a flat. Pull over." Slow to connect, I thought, "No. It doesn't feel like a tyre. What is she saying?" I pulled over to the side. The car would not stay in park gear. As I pulled the hand brake up, Carol predicted "oh-oh this is something serious."

So the sun still brilliant and rising, birds chirping, sky doing it's colorful routine and time looking at us asking - "what was it to be? - loss or gain? - moving or standing still?" Time is pretty undiscriminating. It always is what we want it to be. So we chose standing still. We called up AAA, who obligingly responded first through machine and then helpful operators who brought the promise of 'towing to Clovis' as soon as someone in the vicinity responded. The vicinity? Where were we? About 700 feet from Truchas Creek and a sign declaring the joys of being at Sunnyside Springs and the land where Billy the Kid was buried. Somewhere before Fort Sumner and 126 miles from Santa Fe. Modern ways of print, communication and other support systems that I am not even aware of until I need them have made being in situations like this so easy!

All contacts were made. I did the Indian thing and went and peed behind the reeds in the ditch. And we sat and listened to the rest of the audio story as we waited. It was great. Both of us were unperturbed. So, we were not going to reach Houston tonight. So we would have to get our car towed. It's expensive but we have money. We'll find a place to stay. We were alright. As Murlyn said to us, "Don't let this spoil your vacation." There was no reason for it to do that. Life offered us a chance to experience something different and ourselves differently.

So here we are in this motel, catching up with our blogs, the movies we have on our hard drives, the post cards I wanted to mail and a lot of the walking I wanted to do. We've also caught up with ourselves - individually and together. This is an interesting relationship. We've been friends for many years and road trip companions often and this time, intensively for more than a month. We have uncannily and almost eerily entered each other's auras. She speaks what I am about to say and she reports I say what she is thinking. So it is nice to be in a quiet place, with nothing to do but everyday things like walking to meals, clearing the room, doing our blogs. Nothing that requires major option-choosing or declaring reaction to the fantastic-ness of the world, nothing that brings us to the unprepared for wonder of being in such symbiosis.

And Ladies and Gentlemen, I am delighted to hear and to share with you that David called to say that the part should arrive in Portales in 30 min. He'll fix it in another 30 and then we can be on our way. Yipee!

With love, gratitude to all who are sharing this journey with us.

Shane, thank you for reading commenting on the blog. Are you in the list of followers. Would love it if you are.
Meenu, thanks. I am so happy you are reading. Join us on this whirlwind trip if you can. In anycase keep reading and commenting. Do you know I spent so many years dreaming of something like this and now as I live it, I feel grateful to everything in myself and in my world that has helped me come to this.

With Melanie in Santa Fe

Sitting in this beautiful adobe house, in the kitchen with sunlight pouring in through the skylight, surrounded by the inner sounds of her life and colors.

Santa Fe emerged like a little lagoon of light at the end of a sea of darkness as we drove into it from Mesa Verde, Colorado last night. We drove to La Posada where Melanie and Nacha were playing the most gorgeous music and singing Spanish songs that I did not need to understand the words of as I felt the love in them. A deep, secret, uninhibited love, that reflected the dark luxurious red of the room they performed in surrounded by the passionate paint of the artist whose work adorned the wall.

Lying in bed looking up at the beams and waves of the ceiling I allowed my mind's eye to flicker over the memories of the past few days. I saw Laguna Niguel and the house we stayed in - a house filled with the distinct sound of the four women who live there - who have lived in that house growing it since 41 years ago as they kept coming together 30 years ago and then 14 years back, bringing their own resins of energy to hold that family as it emerged into what it is today.

Disneyland saw me as a child, a child who was born 48 years ago and waited patiently for this jumping excitement of that day. The rides, the color, the crowds and the magickal possibility of a world joined together in fun. A place where a woman stood in the waiting lines celebrating her 70th birthday with her daughter and hundreds and thousands of other people whose sole objective for that day was to wear Mickey ears and walk or ride from one adventure to another screaming thrilling adventure. The most touching 'thing' that will hopefully be there for generations together - the statue of Walt Disney hand in hand with Mickey Mouse.

From the razzledazzle of Disneyland, the World of Color to the Joshua Tree lined road to Palm Springs. I liked it! The desert is beautiful. I liked Nancy's house - straight lines, gravel yard with low trees and cactii and a welcome for us, even though she herself was not there. I sat for hours in the morning under the tree, watching a humming bird and his friends come to inspect me and fly away to the rest of their day.

Back to Laguna Niguel and then a day in Hollywood and the Warner Brothers studio. What fun! Hotdogs at Pink's, hoping to see 'stars'. And then the walk of fame, or whatever that street outside the Grauman's theatre is called. Tiny little handprints in the cement belonging to Shirley Temple. Fred Astaire, WArren Beatty and many many other names - just for a moment letting all the stories and magazines and movies come together into a little imprint in a block of cement on a sidewalk, energized by the millions who have thronged there over the decades keeping the songs, the romance and the thrill of stardom spreading, spreading, alive.

An evening of reiki - going into the center.

And then, just as I recallled the majestic silence of the Grand Canyon my eyes closed and I slept in the world's most comfortable bed, watched over by the stars and the moon, sung to by creatures of the night.

Quick Morning Post

Since Palm Springs:
Hollywood - Warner Bros Studios, Pinks Chilli dogs
Quick drive throughs of Las Vegas ($1.99 shrimp cocktail) and Hoover Dam
Flagstaff, AZ - Grand Canyon, Sedona
This morning from Gallup, New Mexico, to Mesa Verde and on to Santa Fe.

More tonight -- yeah, right.

Since Muir Woods

San Jose
Nipomo
Laguna Niguel
Anaheim - DISNEYLAND
Palm Springs

This is where we are tonight. Palm Springs. A beautiful, surreal desert town, surrounded by mountains.

More later tonight

Love

Forest and Foggy 'Frisco

The people of this city claim the fog. They own it and wear it like an heirloom handed down the generations. So yesterday was a foggy day. Both Carol and I were delighted that we had first-hand experience of this phenomenon that we had only heard of. It hadn’t happened to us, because you see, we are the Bringers of Unusually Good Weather wherever we go. Wyoming was fabulously warm – a relative term – and gloriously sunny for our adventures at Yellowstone. Chicago was comfortable and non-windy. San Fransisco has had a heat wave while we’ve been here. So, yes, we were delighted to be part of the usual and everyday.

As planned we arrived at the Muir Woods National Monument. This is the Frisco home of the Coast Redwood trees. These are trees that have lived in my memory and imagination ever since I was a little girl. Having read about them in various vicarious experience offering magazines, seen pictures and created my own stories around and in them, I had planned this US trip also around the Sequoia tree and its habitat.

Happy that we didn’t have to drive very far to find them, we reached. Our favorite road Sir Francis Drake Boulevard led us to the winding Sequoia Valley Road, laced and scallop edged with fog and rain. The luck of the travelers brought us a parking space just perfect. We found our bright yellow and red raincoats. Lined pockets with few dollars – this was a cheaper entrance fee! We went in.

All words then failed.

If you google redwood trees and sequoia you will learn facts and figures, see pictures and be awestruck by the fact that some trees are wide enough to have tunnels carved in their trunk. You may be impressed by their height – the tallest in the world is 480 feet. The tallest here was 269 feet. You may hear some distant resonance as you understand that they are as primeval and primordial as your dinosaurs and the rocks that stood through all ages.

However, none of the above had any meaning when I stood there in the silence of the forest. Listening to volunteer ranger Marvin tell us about these woods I saw a whole new world. For one, here was a volunteer who has been part of the woods’ story because of the love that he has for them. This large canyon of these endangered trees was bought by a man who had money and the heart for them and was presented to the US government so that they could be protected by the government from the developers and the choppers of wood. Watching the trees and the crowd of people there – old people, young people, families, children, teenagers – water dripping on knees where raincoats end, large umbrellas enhanching the plip plip plop of the rain, runners, hikers – so many people out on a foggy rainy morning out in the woods. Smelling the warm live fragrance as the rain stirred an aromatic vapor soup of bay, fir, oak and sequoia. Black tail deer munching on the understory of the forest and on the boardwalk, marching, ambling, the feet of a society that cares to feast on this offering – the redwood forest, its silence, its beauty and majesty that may live because the little boy, who came on a Sunday outing with his father to the woods, will carry this memory somewhere in his heart and will return to it – return to this lung of the world, with its protective ribcage of redwoods that live up to the promise of the tree that half its life is standing and half its life is when it falls and fosters the ecosystem from its reclining, retired position - So, that boy will return here, perhaps in times of stress or in times of joy and will touch that place of wholeness and oneness with earth, water, sound, light and the fiery abundance of life that shoots up and forth.

With love and gratitude.

Serendipity

It was one of those days. An absolutely beautiful day to walk through the majestic Redwoods at Muir Woods. So beautiful that a steady line of cars preceeded and followed us into the already full parking areas. After deciding we'd never be able to park, we turned around and headed to Sonoma and Napa Valley. When we found ourselves in another long, single lane of traffic heading to Napa, I remembered and related the following to Komal.

"It was a rare moment of absolute freedom in my youth. Having up and left my now ex-fiance in Florida, I was on the road alone and approaching Nashville, TN, the world capital of country western music, where I intended to spend the night and get out ASAP in the morning. Strangely, the fast lane that I was in started to slow and soon became a long, slow line of cars. I was apprehensive about finding a hotel room before dark, but instead of switching lanes I thought 'they must know something that I don't', and stayed in line. After about 10 minutes, we all turned into a large parking area where men with whistles were quickly directing cars to the next available space. I parked and, following everyone else's lead, jumped out of my car, locked it and sprinted to the new line that had formed to the side of the parking lot. I still had no idea what was going on, but was caught up in happy anticipation of something. The excitement increased when a beaming woman magnanimously bestowed upon me a single Entrance Ticket with a seat number. My fellow line-standers were unable to contain their joy, so I whooped and hollered with the best of them. We were soon led to an auditorium where I took my seat and waited until the lights dimmed and we were all welcomed to the June taping of the Johnny Cash Christmas show. I have no memory of where I spent the night so it must have been uneventful, but I'll never forget the lesson that following the flow, overriding the rational (I don't know where to stay tonight, I'm all alone and I don't even like CW music) can lead to joyful experiences."

Komal and I pondered the parallels and decided that we were definitely open and flowing with the best as we crawled along at 15 mph. We set Pocohontas to the address of a winery about 14 miles past Napa so that we'd get a good look at wine country, bought a hot sandwich to share and drove until the traffic in front and behind had all peeled away and we were driving alone toward Frog's Leap Winery which had offered free tous everyday on their website. This day, however, a sign said: Private Event. Please come back tomorrow for tours. As we prepared to turn around, two young men ran out in front of our car and waved us toward the drive. "It's Frogtoberfest! Please join us!" We parked where directed and quickly ate the by now cold sandwich. Then we followed the signs and were ushered to our free hats and pins, free beer steins and on through to the open bar, smorgasbord, wine-tasting, 3 man polka band and lots of jolly folks in equally silly green hats. Our host greeted us personally and asked us to keep quiet the fact that we'd gotten in free while everyone else had paid $65 to attend the day's festivities. He said he'd decided to throw it open to the public just 5 minutes before we drove up to use up the extra mugs and beer.

 Serendipity? Going with the flow? Open to the Universe? Grateful to be part of Life? All of the above.

 

Don't be so quick to give up.



Beer Barrel Polka and More!





What'd they put in that hard cider?



Frog's Leap. 100% Organic. 100% Delicious. 100% Abundance.





One Day Only. Today.



Frogtoberfest Food and Fun

The Road to San Francisco

Having reached the West Coast, I ask myself: "Is this the point? To 'reach' somewhere?" Of course not. What then? A 'point reached' is as good a time as any to ask myself if I've been awake, conscious, aware every step/mile along the way. Of course not.

Another question: Have I been connecting with people, with all the reflections of myself that I meet on this journey? Doing better there. I've been moved time and again by the kindness, generosity and warmth of old friends, new friends, folks on the street and in shops, by cats and dogs and caterpillars. With small gestures and large, inviting me to smile with them, worship with them, revel in the beauty of the trees, ocean, geysers with them -- everyone seems to be inviting me into life. 

With much gratitude, I accept.

I always knew I was the center of the world!

We have driven 5239 miles and some today. Sitting on South Beach at Point Reyes, the west most point of California, the place where Sir Francis Drake landed sometime in the late 1500s. At Point Reyes, there is a sign that says that the sands are mobile. They keep moving, changing and shape shifting the land. That may be so but I think the ocean would have been the same wild, deep green whitening into yellow and falling into the arms of a blue of the darkest depth of an eye. I met that ocean with a sense of awe and respect. As I sensed the honor of being here, haflway or full way across the world I sensed the ocean being honored by my presence.

Apart from that silent and somewhat poetically dramatic encounter the other aspect was that the salt and cold of the water were like a thousand knives piercing my freshly shaved legs. I know, I know... I almost didn't write that bit down but then I thought this is no time for half truths!

So there we were, somewhat ripped to the core of our beings by the experience of being in the Tenderloin of San Fransisco and then the contrasting hurried, glazed-look ripple of humanity that we walked past in downtown San Fransisco. I tend to write long long sentences. To avoid getting lost let me start this one again - so there we were, somewhat ripped.... seeking the soothing of the Pacific, driving from the chi chi San Anselmo, to the hippie haven Fairfax, through Tamalpais - the Sleeping Lady Mountain - National Park, toward the water. Sinous roads lined with what we think were redwoods and gently contoured hills looking like old skin with soft down, took us and we passed Historic Ranches M to D and reached South beach.

This was it. It was as if all my days were leading me to this moment of meeting the end or the beginning of the world. Like a child who expects all the water to fall over the edge, I walked into it - and out and waited. In the waiting I quieted and sat and watched the 5 gulls flying in a single line formation up and down as if that was their assignment for the day - to fly the line of the cresting wave, hide behind it, appear and turnaround to fly in the other direction in the same formation. All the while the ocean roared and laughed and sang and talked to me and to the one or tgwo fishermen waiting for it to settle into a line throwable roll. Didn't happen. I could have sat there the whole day maybe the rest of my life - who knows. Maybe I have begun again, today, another journey having completed the previous one and shed it like a skin, offered it to the ocean.

The scenic route is the story of my life - so there we were, on Hwy 1 - the non description for the Coastal Pacific Highway that runs from Oregan all the way down through California, and suddenly without fanfare and drumroll there it was, the Pacific Ocean all over again, better than in the movies, better than in the books and better than what I could ask for! A road, designed for my pleasure along the side of the mountain, coasting up and down and all the way strolling with the ocean. Like lovers who will not let go of each other, but will play, hide, run and roll, cavort and flirt with rock and weed and all the mystery of life and their connection, the highway and the water swayed and danced as Sweet Chariot (we have named our car) took us to Donna's house.

Sanitized Community Park

Just after completing the last blog, I decided to take off my shoes and walk in the sun on that sanitized, soft and welcoming lawn around the neat playground, basketball court and perfectly molded plastic picnic tables. On my way back to my shoes and socks under the tree where I'd earlier napped, I saw something that stopped me in my tracks. The striped snake had the same reaction and sat up to watch me as I backed carefully away, grateful that I hadn't taken one more step.

The moral of the story? Wear hiking boots in Wyoming? Sleep in hotels? Nah. Just gratitude. We'll be careful, but it's really out of our hands...

Vastness

October 4, Sheridan, Wyoming

The phrase ‘God’s own country’ keeps drifting through my mind as we drive. Vast sky, vast plains, vast forests – this vastness is part of what I associate with God. God created the vastness and we divided it up. Nations, countries, states, counties, towns, communities, neighborhoods, families, houses, rooms…

Tonight we take refuge from this vastness in a sanitized, grassy community park with carefully spaced shade trees, a playground and well-tended lawn. It’s free and we’re allowed to pitch our tent here while we wait for the parts for our car to arrive and be installed tomorrow morning. Last night was the ‘height’ of our camping experience (3 nights and counting). Driving the last 20 miles on a ladder-backed gravel road from Devil’s Tower, we found most campsites closed for the season until we arrived at the Rocky End area of the Keyhole State Park. No water, electricity or sign of other campers, but no bar across the road either. We pitched our tent on a pebbly outcrop on the shore of the reservoir and heard only the fish or turtles splashing, the wind blowing the tent and maybe 4-legged visitors to the nearby bank getting a drink of the clear water. I say ‘maybe’ because neither of us was willing to get up to investigate the sounds.

For two days we’d been driving through the South Dakota plains, Badlands and Black Hills. Exclaiming, taking photo ops, soaking in the vast (there’s that word again) beauty during the day, we spent 2 nights getting our camping ‘feet’. The first night turned cold fast and we froze. The second night we successfully found an empty cabin with lights and heating. Joy and bliss. Yesterday we splurged on a queen sized inflatable bed with an electric pump to get us off the cold ground and learned a few useful things about sleeping on it last night.

So are we ready for Yellowstone? Well, the lady at the Wyoming information center doesn’t recommend it. Unpredictable weather including rain and snow (!), most camping areas closed for the winter, and so on. 

Today can be seen as a setback on the way or a respite from the vastness while we take some alone time here after a leisurely picnic lunch. I needed some time to examine a few selves that had been occupying my body. As always, a page opened at random from Rumi served up the wisdom I needed. “When something goes wrong, accuse yourself first.” And then, “Half-heartedness doesn’t reach into majesty. You set out to find God, but then you keep stopping for long periods at mean-spirited roadhouses.” Here I am on the journey of my lifetime with my beloved fellow traveler. Why should I let any annoyed, impatient or irritated self hijack me? Half of me exclaims over the vast beauty while the other half fumes inside. What a waste of gas! We calculate our expenses and our mileage but all this is meaningless if I’m being half-hearted in my experience of my own life. I am a self-proclaimed ‘joy carrier’. There is no other day for it. 

Today

4^th October 2010

SHERIDAN, WYOMING

Today,

Sitting in Starbucks

Connected to the world

Coffee, Mockingbird, www,

A friend, daylight, air conditioning.

I could be anywhere in the world

In Starbucks

No, that was not a poem, just a different format. Like today. We arrived here at Sheridan with the agenda of getting ‘the sound’ checked out. Our car has been making strange and loud sounds that I would have loved to ignore and pretend that it did not matter, but the better sense supported by that of my friend Carol and we got it checked out!

Seems we need to get some brake lining work done and since we have about 7000 odd miles to go, it’s a good idea to get it done. So we have found a camping site – free, in the Washington Community Park that has swings and Goose Creek flows through it. It also has snakes – Carol almost stepped on one in the grass as it reared it’s indignant and seeking head at Carol and then serpented its way into the creek.

I am ready to pitch, without pegs, our tent in the basketball court or in the swing stand, even though kids pee in it (that’s Carol’s brilliant argument in favor of grass with snakes and not swing sand!)

Sheridan is in Wyoming. The term, I don’t know whether it exists or we invented it – The Great Plains of Wyoming – is true and appropriate. There are First National Monuments - The Devil's Tower, and the First National Park and Kelsey, the First Dinosaur Lady - the first Triceratops to be discovered. She hangs so sweetly in the Wyoming Welcome Visitor's Center as soon as you enter Wyoming on I 90 West. And ofcourse Yellowstone, where we are headed. But all through the huge wide open spaces - oh mi god - not in my wildest imagination could I have seen something like this - the sky seems minimized sometimes.

I have had a beautiful day - two hours by myself. Alone time daily is something that we had planned for in our original program for this entire trip, but today is the first time that we actioned it. I am happy that the brake-work gave us this time and space to do what we have wished for. I am happy I asked for it.

Love and gratitude to everyone who is following us, reading us and everyone who has helped me to make this trip come true.

Places we have been, places we have seen

2 October, 2010 – Catching Up at Custer, South Dakota

CHICAGO – once used to stink of rotting onions!

From Glen Ellyn to Chicago in the Metra Rail. The sights, the wonder and the beauty of Chicago Downtown. Traveling in the ‘L’ – the elevated – for most part – metro-rail or subway as I knew it, catching the buses – I wondered at the movement of life in this part of the world. Going to work and coming back home has a different quality – different from that back home in Delhi/India. The two commuter systems that I experienced were spaces and moments to catch up and allow breath and life to re enter the frenetic-paced individual who uses these travel services. People drink their morning coffees and their evening and night coffees. Sometimes, surreptitiously their Draft Lites. Tupperwares of yoghurt and salad come out and are delicately consumed clean by the time the train reaches the second stop. Crossword puzzles, daily news, fiction, the latest about celebrities and ofcourse laptops of work. Sleep. Most people in the Metra Rail have lives in the train. Friends meet and catch up on gossip.

Carol and Komal too were there. The first morning we sat on the top deck of the Metra and ooh-ed and aah-ed the lovely streets of Oak Park as we passed them, remembered Cyrus and Aban as we passed Elmhurst, ogled the quarry, the downtown condos, the water left over from the rain. Disembarked at the Ogilvie Center and walked on the streets of C H I C A G O. It is a city that I have dreamt of seeing even more than New York. I did not know what to expect. The only architectural reference point that I had came from a movie – what else! – and the names came from years of reading about Chicago and answering multi million trivia quizzes. Yes, I looked for each one of them. Some of them I met by the end of the next day and some of them are waiting to be destroyed or discovered.

Chicago has been a beautiful ambulatory discovery. Millenium Park, Chicago Yacht Club, Navy Pier, Michigan Ave, Magnificent Mile, Oak Street Beach, Water Tower, Water Tower Place, Southside, the Aquarium, Arlington at the Science and Industry Museum, Hyde Park, China Town, all the Universities, Grant Park. We walked and we walked and we walked. Talking about the city, about associated memories and about the joy of discovering this incredible city – which was surprisingly non busy for Monday and Tuesday.

Absolutely stunning was the Oriental Theater on Randolph/Street Ave, where we saw the Broadway musical Billy Elliot. The show itself was spectacular, but the theater was stupendous.

I feel extremely grateful that I saw it that I was there.

Oh, by the way, the name Chicago came from the Native American name that I know I am right now not pronouncing correct – Chicogua – it means stinking of rotting onions, because of the sweet onions that used to grow here and they obviously had quite an odor as they rotted!

That little nugget of information came from the docent of the Architectural Boat Ride – and that my friends was fantastic.

CHIPPEWA FALLS, WISCONSIN

Somewhere along the way between Chicago and Custer National Park, we found ourselves at Chippewa Falls at the Hancock’s. This was the last point of family, not to mention home living. And it was a fitting finale! In the love and caring of Aunt Jean and Uncle Dave and the absolutely gorgeous house on Wissota Lake I was ready to stop and stay right there. Idyllic day – we saw the furniture making plant, had lunch at Applebee’s, and saw the tiny tiny little towns of Eau Clair and Chippewa Falls. I actually remembered reading in 10^th grade Geography, about the lumber industry in Chippewa Falls, that has been around for centuries. The expanses of space and the neatness of row, yard, lane and house was all the more stunning in the backdrop of the wildness of the changing colors of the trees and shrubs.

And then – canoe-ing. It was absolutely mindblowingly – Peaceful. Once I accepted that the worst that could happen is that we would spill, and the Loch Ness Monster or the waiting crocodile would come and grab me and take me under to his lair for supper and afters, I was fine. I allowed myself to enjoy the thrill of being on water. On this ultra deep blue water, surrounded by water, and all of that rimmed by the oranges and flame and green of vegetation, houses and ducks and geese – I was fine! It’s a great life.

We paddled to the island, across the lake. Walked on the beach there. Cooked up a storm of pirate and ‘I could’ stories and paddled back again.

MINA LAKE, MINNESOTA – Camping: An Ode To Those Who Told Us So!

‘Twas the evening of the sunshiny lake.

The trees did sway as the wind she blew.

Two of the Intrepid Tribe on cross country drive

At Mina, with stuff and joy they did arrive.

And the lake did ripple as the wind she blew.

From the Discovery pulling out camping stuff

Wrapped in winter coats, pulling out stuff

Neither noticed the blowing wind and the setting sun

Sleeping bags, tent pegs, tarp and such

Wrapped in shiny fake brightness they pulled out stuff.

Sated with propane fired hotdogs and Chocovine

They did settle – did I say settle? – down to sleep.

Cold butts, freezing toes, slippery sleep bags

In their heads voices of warning, of soft beds left behind

They did not settle, but they slept.

Came the morning and all the moaning.

“Head cold runnin’”, “strange creatures howlin’”

“Fingers are a frozen and breakin’”

Cheerful conversation through un-pegging-n-tarpin’

Yes, they were making “never again” noises.

But the sun did shine on the colors again

Breathing in the wind and moving again

Teeth unclean and faces unwashed

They bought more stuff to camp next stop.

Breathing in the wind and moving again.

Thank you Manna, Rahul, Shalini, Aunt Jeannie and Uncle Flip, Rohan, Anjali, Alok, Barb, Dave, Aunt Jean and Uncle Dave Hancock for all the gear, advice, information, food and the “Are you sure?”, “Camping in this weather??!!!!”, “Go ahead and do it!!!”, “Camping! Hee hee hee! You’re joking! Right?”

Love

Unfold your own myth

We're starting to develop a few good story lines on this adventure. Some of them have a decidedly comic tone: the collection of hijacked garage door openers [Shalini and Naresh, if you're reading this we're sorry, but we don't know which one is yours!] the highway driving courses, the invisible stop signs and more. Others have human interest potential: raising children, taking care of others, values that continue from one generation to the next.

But what strikes me in this moment is the number of times our friends have said "I wish I could do what you're doing."  It's reminiscent of what I hear when I tell people I retired 5 years ago, at the ripe old age of 47.  I've long since stopped telling people that they can do anything they want to. I never believed it. Until I did. But telling doesn't help. Then I started feeling a bit burdened -- I'm actually doing things others would be doing if they only knew they could; I should really make the most of this amazingly lucky situation for all of us!

I opened a page at random to begin this blog and saw Rumi's line jump off the page: Unfold your own myth. The relevant stanza reads: "But don't be satisfied with stories, how things/have gone with others. Unfold/ your own myth, without complicated explanation,/so everyone will understand the passage,/We have opened you."

So, this one's for me. 

Curry Hooks and The House That Traveled

Yesterday, official Day 2 at Glen Ellyn. Having recovered the Stomach, I was ready to meet Race Car Dave. What a delightful family! Ka-de-ka Road, Bliss Woods, Sugar Grove - All part of their address that is part of old Indian lands. 'Ka-de-ka' in the native tongue means sugar grove. And a sweeter family I haven't met.

I was again in the lovely circle of love flowing and catching up as memories were revived and jokes were laughed at and the warmth of coming home touched me. As we were leaving, Joe asked us "Have you found the curry hook in your car?" Our mean, macho, slightly over packed LandRover Discovery had a curry hook? What is that? The story according to Joe goes that when the car was being designed they attached a hook, left of the glove compartment that people could hang their take away packets on - it is believed that Land Rover owners ordered a lot of Indian food and before the curry hook came into existence the curry just sloshed around and soon there was a car that smelled perpetually like curry. Solution: Curry Hook.

It was a cute going away story that Carol and I giggled about as we drove through rolling gold fields of corn that await plowing under. The classic midwest picture - wide blue sky thick with cloud, vast golden abundant land that has borne fruit, open, inviting, silent and endless.

Onward to Geneva, Illinois. Like the others around here, it is a little city that contiguously flows from and into another. Looking for Dave Scatterday's house we passed the historic streets with Queen Anne and other ancient houses. Pretty, colorful, scalloped and date-labelled.

Then we saw it. A purple and grey-blue house - Dave Scatterday, a beer in one hand and the cell phone to direct us on one end of a creatively done yard. A lamp post with a number of different signs on it. On closer inspection we found tincan Maynard the Moose, draped with a Homecoming blanket - Homecoming is a time honored high school tradition that is honored also by Maynard!

Now here is the unique part - this house was actually a left corner house a few streets away. And it was moved... Yes, the whole house was bodily moved to this corner. Now it is a different direction so the front door which is supposed to open into the street is now a side/back entrance, with Maynard in full glory in a bowling ball patch, looking happy in its new habitat far away from its creator's workshop in Mexico.

Martha and Dave have an adorable house - a sun room that is from the Carribean - flamingos and all. A kitchen that is so inviting and eclectic that you want to dance in it, be in it - do something other than just cook in it. And then there is the moose theme bathroom. I haven't met a more creative and lively house. We sang, strummed and hummed. I felt alive, happy and delighted shaking to old songs and belting them out loud in a voice that was uninhibited and large in a space that could have been anywhere in the world where there are friends and guitars.

With love