Hopping in a friends taxi to drop me off at the bus station that would drive me to the airport, was the ‘plan’. The taxi didn’t know where the bus stop was, the tuk-tuk driver after that dropped me off somewhere quite randomly. But I found an ‘airport taxi’ and got here 1.5 hours earlier than expected, for a very good taxi price of 400rs. He was hoping to pick up more passengers on the way but unfortunately that didn’t happen.
The end of the ashram stay is getting near.
I’ve been on and off on the temple service.
Some days I was fully meditative, time was no issue.
At other days the mind was racing like a mad man and every minute became an eternity.
The Yoga Center is awesome.
From the caress in the branches of the wavering clouds, to the depth of grace in people’s eyes when they greet you.
Something special is going on here, which is the least I could say.
Being here is like a homecoming, it’s like the place I’ve dreamed about for years.
Isha is very nice. The people are extremely patient, warm and helpful.
The food is delicious and the amount of comfort in the rooms is extremely above my expectations.
I’m looking forward to the program, which starts tonight after dinner.
I’m getting more calm and relaxed, although I underestimated the exam and travel stress that has been now obviously vibrant in my body and mind. I need a ton of rest and naps, and hope to recover soon.
I guess I came here for adventure, and boy did I get some.
The battle between sleep and caffeïne went on for hours as I sat at the airport.
On the screens, I would have to board on gate 10. Then the gate disappeared.
Then gate 10 appeared again. Then the gate disappeared. Then it showed gate 9.
Okay, 24 hours of airplane and airport sitting could be easier.
While I must admit that the Indian airplane food is now rank 1 in my master list of extreme airplane dishes, I still feel pretty fatigued after almost 24 hours of being awake and mostly waiting (in the airplane, for the airplane, to the airplane, …).
India is not a fun place. It’s just not. Not when you’re sober at least.
But it’s interesting, yes, it sucks you up in its experience, you cannot hide from its strong reality.
Lumbini was nice. And hot, burning and unbelievably hot.
I never understood why people complain about humidity, after all, water is nice and cool no? I don’t like to have dry eyes, and so I thought some humid, moisty air is nice and refreshing.
Boy was I wrong.
Tomorrow I’m taking the bus to Lumbini, the birth place of Siddharta Gautama de Buddha.
The Buddha.
It’s a city all the way south of Nepal and after checking it all the way out, I’ll make my way across the border, to India.
Still on the anecdote side of things.
I find myself sitting in the Indian embassy again, 6 days after my latest writing.
Hopefully I’ll be able to pick up my visa when the counter/ticket system decides it’s my turn, as I’ve read the stories on the internet where peoples visa got denied for no reason whatsoever.
After paying the 50 dollars on the first visit, of course. We’ll see.