So, two days ago I arrived in a lovely place called Rishikesh, where the Beatles hung out and were groovy and where the dust and smoke of the air is mingled sweet with spice. I met some terrifically interesting people; a crazy Indian writer better known as "the black goddess of Laxmanjula", a Dutch guy who plays Persian instruments beautifully, my friend Paula, of course, and various other characters in passing. This town in the mountains is quite touristy, with a lot of false spiritualism and lost people, but there is no denying the sense of peace tinging the very air. The moon is full tonight, and there will probably be some kind of celebration. Last night I walked in the light of the nearly full moon, down windy dirt roads in the mountains and listened to the chuckling of the tiny streams feeding our mother Ganga. The Ganges runs strong and green (and more than a little dirty, upon closer inspection) through this place, and I feel very close to the heart of things because of her presence. This trip is already proving to be vivid, stimulating, and confusing all at once. I am very happy. I also was sick with a fever all day yesterday, and my tummy is complaing very badly today, but I am till happy, and it will pass. It is just my body unloading and shivering out of many old unnecessary chemicals and energy and adjusting to what India surrounds it with. And the owner of my guesthouse looks like the Indian George Clooney, and is the most hearbreakingly kind person, and I am in love with him.
My first shower in India. That bucket, I mean.
My first view of mother Ganga from Laxmanjula, Rishikesh.
Ramjula at sunset
Natasha and crazy Mira with her guitar, at Mira's house.
Streets of Rishikesh
Paula shopping
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