My newest adventure... Another sort of travel.  A journey into the world of art... IQ Gallery is coming.  It's a creative space where innovators are encouraged to push the boundaries of creative pursuits.  www.iqgallery.ca.

Stay tuned for our upcoming exhibition, Rope+Thread=ism, a multidisciplinary art experience.  June 30th- July 14th, 2012.  St-Brigide de Kildare church (1151 Alexandre de-Sèves, Montreal).

Delectable Diu

Namaskar from the delectable island of Diu, a former Portugese colony set on a small island off the coast of Gujarat. A truly lovely and utterly charming place. Colourful buildings built in a unique Indian-Portugese style set amid winding, flowering/palm tree lined streets, impressive churches and gentle sea breezes cutting into the 36C+ heat. The town, normally a popular tourist (both foreign and Indian) destination, is particularly quiet as it is the beginning of the hot season marking the 'low season' for tourism. This, coupled with the indeniable charm of the place makes Diu a particularly special place. And I have been taking full advantage. My days have been calm, visiting the fort, exploring the architecture, eating slow meals, taking late afternoon/early evening dips in the ocean and adopting the local habit of siesta (napping or relaxing in the shade/air conditioned internet cafe) for the hottest part of the day. Perhaps the most impressive part of my time here in Diu is my accomodations. Perched on the roof, in a small concrete room with nothing but a bed, fan and two chairs, sits my room. The roof belongs to the city museum, an eerie collection of old saint statues set in the impressive main atrium of the no-longer used, Sao Tomeo (St.Thomas church). The church date is unknown but given the others in the area could date anywhere from the 1500-1700s. As it is low season, many of the 6-7 rooms lie vacant and one gets the feeling of isolation as they climb the small concrete stairs to the church steeple for an unparalleled view of the island. It is an absolutely amazing priviledge to have this place to myself and I regularly marvel at the equisiteness of it. This hardly seems like the dizzying noisy and busy streets of other Indian cities I have seen. This hardly seems like any other place I have seen. Yes, I think I may stay here a while. See some locals. Explore the island. Befriend new travelers as they pass through town. Swim in the ocean. Read. Breathe fresh air. And continue to enjoy the novelty that a former house of God is now my house.

Bountiful Bundi

Namaste friends and family. Here are some pictures from the delectable town of Bundi. Located in the south-eastern part of the desert state of Rajesthan, Bundi is a small town filled with lovely people and as of yet, not quite overrun (ruined--debatable) by tourism. It also happens to be a delighfully photogenic town with beautifully coloured buildings (from cooling shades of blue, to peach, to greens, purples, and all other imaginable pastel hues), narrow old city laneways, flanked by gateways, active markets, beautiful havelis (historic homes), am impressive palace and fortress and locals practically begging you to take their photograph. Yes, a lovely place to be. Full of fun characters, old world charm, and a pleasant peacefulness. Enjoyable despite the often oppressive 38C daytime heat.

Holi-Moly!!

Holi-Moly!! Yesterday was India's festival of colours and today I'm a bright shade of pink, with blue spots. Out of context, bizarre, but no so unusual here. Luckily I'm not the only person of colour here in Pushkar. Holi, a crazy night/day filled with bonfires, water-fights and the throwing of coloured powder, marks a Hindu story where the son of the King of Demons denies his fathers wishes and worships the God Vishnu. While the Demon King makes many attempts on his life, the son remains faithful and the attempts fail. Finally he is ordered by his father into a fire. His devotion to Vishnu spares him but his unfaithful sister, demoness Holika (hence the name of the festival- Holi), perishes despite wearing a magic shall that is meant to spare her (for more info on Holi, visit http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holi). The festivities begin the night before the festival with a large bon fire. Here in Pushkar, I gathered among a group of locals and foreigners to witness the lighting of a large pile of hay and a small tree. After various prayers were said, the pile was illuminated and we watched as the fire ate it way through the hay climbing in vicious swirls of orange and red to a height of 20 feet. The heat was intense and as the fire grew the crowds retreated in a bit of a fury. It got so hot that I felt as if my skin would burn from being near it. I was struck by how mad it all seemed. And then, as soon as the madness peaked, the hay all devoured, the fire abated and shrunk. Within a few minutes all that remained was a large, smouldering pile of ash. Men with shovels scooped up hunks of smouldering ash, red with coals and navigated their way through the narrow streets, maneuvering nimbly through the crowds. I know not to where they were headed or to what end. Perhaps to temple alters. Perhaps to their homes. To purify. To bless. As I watched the fire abate, I was struck by how what had seemed so mad a few moments ago was now so controlled. How this massive fire had been lit. Young and old, men and women had watched. So close to such a dangerous thing. And still, not one person hurt. Not one misplaced ember. Years of experience. With fire, with the village, with how much hay and towering how high. Experience that made it ok. Experience that we take for granted at times. The wisdom of elders. Of doing something one way simply because it has always been done that way.

Perhaps Holi is best known as a festival of colours. The next day is celebrated as people play with coloured powders and water in what can become a bit of a silly free for all. In the week proceeding, carts selling piles of powder in vibrant reds, oranges, yellows, blues, greens, pinks, purples and sometimes black, line the streets. The mayhem in Pushkar was wacky. Having received mixed reviews on whether or not it was worth going to the town square (or safe for women), I decided to brave the madness and plunge right in. 'Full Power. 24 Hour. No Toilet, No Shower'. Adorned in a faded black t-shirt (purchased for the event), and armed with powder, a water bottle and water gun, I, along with a group of unsuspecting tourists headed off to battle. And battle it was. What could and should be a fun sharing of colours, sadly becomes malicious as men's shirts are torn off and women are accosted from all sides. Indian women, armed with adequate knowledge and experience stay home and play with their families. Unsuspecting Western women, myself included, are met with a huge group of colourful men, some drunk (although alcohol is banned in this holy city), some stoned (on bang lassi- marijuana milkshakes), and some hepped up on the craziness and apparent lack of rules that dominate the day. It's somewhat surreal for me to say that I was accosted and attacked in various ways by purple men, blue men, pink men, yellow men, green men, and multi-coloured men. Nonetheless, I was armed and those who crossed the line were greeted first by my watergun and later by my elbows and fists. Bizarre enough to see herds of topless, colouful men, more bizarre was perhaps the trance music that played starting in early morning hours. Likely not the traditional musical choice but well suited to the madness that ensued. If there is repression in this culture, festivals such as these allow it to come out in strange ways. When I finally emerged from the crowd, myself and my companions were unrecognizable. Having spent moments in every colour of the rainbow and having stayed the course, I arrived back at my hotel tie-dyed and dead-tired. Glad to have played Holi and given my pink shade today and the obvious approval for it that I have received from Indians in the street, feeling that depite a bloody battle, I may have emerged victorious.

Are you famous or something?

Taking pics of Babas (Sadhus) at the Kumbh Mela (the world's largest religious gathering) in Haridwar. This is one of the two pics of me that found its way into national Hindi newspapers. Stardom here I come!

Ahhh Amristsar

Only in India can one accidentally mistake a crematorium for a temple, only to be warmly welcomed, given a tour and encouraged to take pictures. Just one moment of what turned out to be an absolutely wonderful day. Yes, that is India, a place where the joy of living, leads those running a crematorium, (likely from the now illegal 'untouchable' caste-- a caste outside of the system; generations charged with doing work considered unpleasant and dirty) to laugh and play while once living, breathing bodies slowly turn to ash. This, coupled with a never-ending curiousity and a general respect given to foreigners, made my visit to the crematorium surprisingly pleasant. People there gathered around to shake my hand and ask me questions, while a young man in his early 20s took particular pride in showing me 'dead bodies', most decomposed beyond recognition aside from a clearly visible skull. That is life here. So vibrant and alive. Children playing next to funeral pyres. A normal process. Another day at the office.

Sat Sri Akal from Amritsar, site of the Golden Temple and Sikhism's holiest site. An impressive building guilded in gold and majestically placed in the center of a sorovar (holy pond). From each and every angle, the temple is impressive as the light bounces differently from each side and during each hour of the day. The water surrounding gives the place an ephemeral feel and the reflection makes is seem as if the building is floating. Surrounded by marble buildings and walkways, one navigates the contour of the area as Sikh pilgrims, the men turbaned and bearded, the women in typical Punjabi suits (three piece outfits brightly coloured and decorated in embroidery and beading of all varieties) or magnificently coloured sarees, kneel down in prayer, often looking up to God above. Some bathe in the waters, the sarovar said to have healing properties. Some drink from the holy pool. The main temple is richly decorated in embroidery, mirrored walls and rich carpeting. During peak day time hours people line up outside for their chance to go in. A visit through the temple's three floors reveals richness and a faith that is tangible. The religiosity and energy of the place is undeniable. As I visit the main building, I am compelled to take a few moments pause. I sit on the rich red paterned carpet of the second floor and take some time to reflect. To feel the energy and the fervor that surrounds me. To say a small prayer of gratitude for all of the abundance in my life. Yes, I rather like the Golden Temple, it is a calm oasis in the sometimes maddening pace that lies outside the gates. I am staying at the guest house for pilgrims and eating at the massive communal kitchen that serves warm vegetarian meals free to tens of thousands of people a day. The kitchen a volunteer effort, as the faithful sit in rows chopping vegetables, washing dishes at rows of industrial sized sinks, and stiring giant cauldrons of dal (lentil stew) slowly cooking over massive fires. The guest house is a hubub of activity. Morningtime a flurry of colour and sound as people awake and prepare to tackle the day ahead. The rooms all full, night reveals a sea of believers camped out in the building's vast courtyard. I feel an immense sense of love as I navigate my way through the sleeping bodies towards the bathroom. Aunties, uncles, young and old, all camped out together. In one giant sleep. In an immensely holy place. Sound under the calm skies. Safe under the warm blanket of sleep.

Krazy Kumbh

Namaskar from Haridwar, a very holy Hindu city and locale of the Kumbh Mela, the largest religious gathering on earth! What a whirlwind of colour, sound and adventure it has been. Located along the banks of the Ganges, Haridwar is believed to be one of the four places where some nectar of immortality was spilled in a battle between the Gods and Demons and as such is the locale of the Kumbh Mela once every 12 years. Based on various astrological calculations, specifically Jupiter's orbit around the sun, the Kumbh is a gathering of the extremely devout, seekers, and the holy men(sadhus) who come from around the country to bathe in the Ganges. Masses of colourfully-attired Pilgrims come from all over the country, some walking hundreds of kilometres. Sadhus, from the more modern, ashram-inhabiting, cell-phone toting to the often solitary, cave dwelling Nagasadhus (naked and covered in ash- a sign of their devotion to Lord Shiva- represented by fire- and their belief that the body is only the vessel), flock to this holy city, to celebrate, bathe and share Divine wisdom about the universe and our place in it. The energy here abundant and tangible. And, two days after the first of four royal baths, as I await my train departing to my next stop on this journey, I find myself exhausted. Exhilarated and over stimulated. Amazed at what has been and the good fortune that follows me on this journey..

hari Om from Rishikesh

Namaste friends and family,

Let me start by making amends for my long absence from blogging. I fell into a common blog trap, having composed a novel and loosing it (due to one of India's regular (planned?) power outtages), getting discouraged and then starting to feel as if I had so much catching up to do that I would never get it all in. this is how days turn to weeks and it seems as if I may have dropped off the world at times. So, let me begin with the here and now. the here is Rishikesh, Uttarkhand province, town made famous by the Beatles (and the Maharishi) some years back and self proclaimed 'yoga capital of the world'. In a beautiful setting, at the foot of the himalayas, with the ganga river running through it, Rishikesh offers all sort of delights for the foreigner from extreme yoga practices to white water rafting. I have been leaning on the easy side of things, electing to stay in an ashram on the more tranquil side of town (less the marching band that trumpets, blows and beats wildly outside the internet cafe as I type-- this is India after all and tranquility is often fleeting. I guess that may help to suggest why there is so much emphasis on finding inner quiet and stillness. Because god knows it can often be tough to find it outside). I have been immensely enjoying my days here, doing yoga, bathing in the ganga (it's quite clean here as Rishikesh is just a few hundred km from where the river leaves the mountains), visiting mountain waterfalls, small local villages, mountain-top godess temples and attending a wonderful course about hindu philosophy(I am quite tempted to stay here for the remainder of the course). I could easily see myself spending some serious time here, focusing on increasing my knowledge and cultivating discipline and inner understanding. Something that wouldn't be overly difficult to do seeing as I've been spending around $6-10/day. But alas, I must get moving in two days as I'll be off to attend a truly unique event, the Kumbh Mela, the largest religious gathering on earth (more on that later). Nonetheless, I may consider heading back this way come April/May.

Since my last blog entry, I spent the remainder of the week in Mohali, being the much spoiled guest of a group of college-aged girls at the Residence run by my friend's family. the ladies were wonderful, and took me around Chandigarh (although not the most inspiring of locales), inviting me to meet their friends and families, and feeding me all sorts of delightful treats. Aparently Punjabis love sweet and fried and after a week with the ladies, I began to fear that I may be 300lbs when I leave India.
then i was off the visit the families of two of the lovely ladies in villages located near Patiala. It was absolutely wonderful to be welcomed into their homes and families and everywhere I went I was treated as an honoured guest. One of the girls lives in a beautiful farm house, set amid fields of wheat and mustard plants, with various fruit trees in the yard (sadly not the season for mangos, papaya, lemon, guava..etc). however, it was the season for various vegetables which were plucked from the garden and savoured. In fact, the food there was the best i've had in india so far. Perhaps some of the best i've ever had. Sweet red carrot and potato stew slow roasted over a fire (on a chulla- an outdoor clay stove that is an important part of traditional indian cooking), fresh chapatis with locally grown wheat made with love by Bebe (grandmother), lovely dahl, fresh Buffalo-milk curd (yogurt) and ghee (clarified butter), warm buffalo milk lightly spiced and sweetened, homemade lemon, ginger, mango, pickle. Wonderful, wonderful food, with amazing company in a beautiful place. I am still amazed/delighted with how kind and generous people are, constantly opening their homes and their hearts to you....

Much more to say. Will continue tomorrow... xoxo

The White Girl of Mohali

I think i may be the only foreigner in the town of Mohali. As I walk the streets, I turn heads. Not for my show stopping wardrobe or my amazing good looks (which certainly don't hurt), but simply because I am an alien among them. A curiosity. The white girl of Mohali. Watch to see what she will do next. Mostly stares, but sometimes kind greetings and even invitations from internet cafe employees('My mother is a good cook. You come for dinner?'). A stranger in their midst.

Mohali is a suburb of calm Chandigarh and it is here that I have spent the last 5 days of so. Due to a bout of flu-like symptoms, rather than stay with my friend Jas' family, I was put up in a college girls residence run by the Mann family. Strange at first to enter into the world of these young women (all aged 19-24), I have since come to enjoy being here. A stranger/observer/participant in their daily lives. The girls, as well as the young family that cooks and maintains the property, have been lovely to me and the girls are so welcoming as they invite me along on all sorts of adventures. With each day I am getting to know them better and am awarded an intimate glimpse into their lives. I am coming to better understand both their culture and the role of women in Indian society. While they are currently being educated, once their educations are complete, most of them will be married in the next few years to a man of their family's choosing. For them certain stages of life and various freedoms, from making a family to going to a discotheque, will not be open to them until they are married. Family is of utmost importance as they, as is the Indian norm, typically live with their extended families: aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, siblings, in one family home. This allows a certain degree of intimacy as is evident in the relationship/closeness between friends. The other day I found six of them cuddled together and gossiping in one bed. This kindness and closeness has been extended to me as I have been majorly spoiled these last few days...

More on this later. I'm off to Amrit's aunty's house for the afternoon and must run... Love to everyone at home!!