a mixed goodbye to another year, another country

I got a sunburn on my birthday- my first in years. I'm not sure what happened really- I think maybe I was just too relaxed to think about danger, about reality.. All day we spent swimming slowly in the coral reef with snorkeling masks suctioned to our faces (the 3rd one from our hotel's basket of sandy wares was finally actually suctioned- before that I was a blind, fogged in mess- and serious comic relief for the gregoire.) It's been many years since I tried scuba diving and I had forgotten the stunning wilderness of the land beneath the water. The fish were intricately designed radiant colors staring at us calmly, curiously as we wove in and out of their lives. One little black and green one even followed Gregg for a long time, swimming in place when gg was still.. We forgot ourselves out there, let the last few months get swept out in the tide. That's why I forgot to put on sunblock.

So after our dinner on the beach- food that they BBQ right in front of you, a long walk and a desert with oreos and ice cream (no chocolate cake to be found in the land of tropical fruits and coconut milk), I lay on my burnt back a long time feeling the fire of forgetfulness and the weight of my body against all of these years.

It is so strange to thread our way in my memory from the snowy peaks of the Himalayas to the burning beaches of southern Thailand. It feels like it must be years, but it is only weeks!

Pelling.
We had to get a special permit to enter Sikkim- a tiny square of land squished between Nepal, Tibet and China- and don't forget Bhutan! Apparently they have been torn between India and China for a long time and have their own (sometimes violent) freedom movement. So India plies them with funds to build their roads and schools in a bid to keep them happy enough being Indian. Funnily (or sadly) enough with this money and freedom from the strict religious rules of Hindu society- they have the highest rate of alcoholism in India. The difference is immediately clear as you cross the border in the quality of the roads- whereas through the Himalayas to Darjeeling was a jarring, treacherous route- the road to Pelling was smooth and gradual.

We left Darjeeling two days after a huge snowstorm buried us on Valentine's Day- our first snow this winter- when we woke to the sounds of cheers from the townspeople in the main square. The electricity was out, and everything stayed closed (and would remain that way until after we left.) We spent the day involved in a series of snowball fights- starting when Gregg was pegged by a middle aged Indian woman giggling wildly and continuing sporadically all day.. the great equalizer.. tourists vs. townspeople townspeople vs. townspeople tourists vs tourists...Our Valentine's Day was a strange assortment of frozen donuts and waxy cookies eaten by our woodstove and crackling candles lent to us by the hotel.


That was the last time we were warm.

Pelling off season was sort of depressing- most of the hotels were missing their top floors and under construction. It poured rain so we were unable to see the mountains surrounding us or take the trek we had planned. Luckily we were with our new dear friends Alex and Beatrice and we sat for hours eating Tibetan momos, drinking milk tea and laughing hysterically at our enormous bodies wrapped in every layer we owned. There was just no way to get warm and we took to carrying the tiny heater we rented from the hotel and plugging it in wherever we were sitting.

One incredible luck of timing was our arrival just before the Tibetan New Year- during the chaam dances. One day we woke early and hiked up to the monastery to watch this ancient ritual. At our hotel an older man had explained to us his sadness that his children aren't really interested in these rituals anymore- they had video games and other distractions and the reasons he had loved it- the once a year chance to eat delicious food and get new clothes- had faded with modernity and easier access to all of these things. I wondered which was better- a real appreciation for the ritual and tradition or good food and new clothes more than once a year.. I understand better the divide at the dances themselves- they were pretty incredible: the colorful masks and costumes, the drumbeat, the slow dances. But I understood after a few hours of this that the appeal would wane in the face of movies and television and other exciting distractions. I even found a small boy monk on a top floor of the monastery turned toward the back window and when I approached him and asked why he wasn't watching the dances he shook his head with disdain and I realized he was playing gameboy!!

We went from Pelling to Gangtok- a more populated city and just a tiny bit warmer (we didn't spend the extra money for a heater) and spent our last days in India there. Our final day in Gangtok we had a thrilling glimpse of the peaks that had been surrounded by fog for most of our stay and it was strange to know that beyond them lay our last stop on this journey: China. I'm glad we finished our trip in India in the far north because I loved the Himalayas and the friendlier people there- it left me with a happier sense of India as a whole.

After the north, even Calcutta seemed gentler somehow and we actually enjoyed our last night there- eating a final fabulous Indian meal and wandering through the streets to find Mother Theresa's tomb tucked away in a busy, poor area- full of tiny shops and people washing in the gutters. I felt a sadness for Mother Theresa- spending her whole life working to heal people and there is India, still full of sickness and poverty.. Gregg said that the answer is probably in education and not charity and I thought of the businessmen in our night train- eating a huge plastic wrapped meal and then throwing it all out the window- I thought he was probably right. Actually, it was funny when they men did this Gregg couldn't help himself and asked- What happens to that garbage? They looked at him, confused and said in gestures that someone cleans it up. We sat there, silent, both knowing that it would never be cleaned up. It would just join the masses of trash piled up everywhere in India, polluting their lives and ruining their country. I left India with a feeling of my relationship with this country being incomplete- I don't think you can go to India and leave without a sense of wanting to change something in the world that allows people to poison themselves.

Gregg has done a wonderful job of explaining our entry into the modern world. The shock and relief and strange rumble in our chest for India. It is a haunted feeling- like a strange dream someone has woken you out of prematurely, or the beginning of a love that you lost and never fully understood. I don't really know how to explain the feeling- I do now understand, however, why people return.

A few words on Thailand..

Pad thai with lime and peanuts and the feeling that right now, you could eat another..

An exotic bird calling out to you from a cage on a porch, whistling a catcall and then proceeds to utter long sentences in Thai. You wish you could understand.

Lying, calm on a chair made only to stretch out on while a film plays, a pineapple papaya shake in your hand, and a sensation that something has just dropped into your lap. You look down and there is the tiniest baby green gecko staring up at you (slightly larger than a fingernail.) You stare at each other and s/he sits quietly for a long time before disappearing to somewhere.. (ring a bell oh small crew at burning man with the praying mantis?)

The girls dancing alone on the dance floor beside you- there may seem no difference, but the divide is huge- she is there for business and a good night is one in which she is pinned under a stranger- and you are there dancing out the sweat of India- feeling free.

The impulse to roll around and lick your hotel room, it is so clean.

The view you have now of the turquoise waters you have only ever read about, sitting on a porch in your own hammock, trying to figure out what has just happened to you and who you are now...

love,
foxy zaza (gregg said i needed a nickname)

ps I wrote all of this on our porch because the internet prices are crazy expensive here- THANK YOU all for your birthday messages, I'll write you back personally when we get to a more connected place..
xxxfrom the island of Haad Yao, Kho Phanang, Thailand