In spite of the frustrations, we shared some good times in Delhi. From my experience I can surmise that the Iraqi culture is one of generosity, love, respect and loyalty. By the time I left, I really felt that I was leaving a dear family. I'm sure I will never forget the generosity and care these boys showed me as long as I live.

The youngest boy, Schemz, arrived only weeks ago with zero English and I was more than happy to become his personal English tutor during my stay. Meanwhile our program was a bit hedonistic, with one night spent at a posh lounge called "Mastrabiya" where we smoked shisha and sat mezmerized by a Russian woman covered in shimmering beads and shaking her hips in the traditional Arabic style. (I was so entranced I determined once again that dancing is a priority on the list of things I absolutely must learn!) Another night we went to a disco, something I have never actually experienced in my life, whereupon I spent the first twenty minutes fixated on the bass vibrating throughout my body, unable to move, speak, and certainly unable to dance. But after a couple of drinks I got into the groove of the Hindi beats and suddenly it was 4am and time to chelo. I was especially thrilled to hear "Gasolina" - the ubiquitous reggaton song I first came to appreciate in Mexico and a song that instantly transports me home.

Most nights we took iftar (the food we eat to break the daylight fast) at home, with the boys preparing Iraqi-style rice (a welcome break from plain white Indian rice), dehi (yogurt, curd), tomato soup with chicken parts, pita-style bread, and some kind of meat thing. Rarely did I see a vegetable, but it was so nice to have home-cooked food, and I was so hungry after a day of drinking only water, that I found myself thoroughly enjoying a simple mix of rice and dehi. Mmmmmm. One night we made Iraqi-style kabob: ground meat mixed with onion, spices, and a bit of flour and formed into patties which we then fried. They didn't resemble what I personally think of as kabob, but proved to be fairly delicious (from a former vegetarian's perspective, at least).

Just like gremlins, the boys came alive late at night with unpredictable results. Whether it was a shaving cream fight, an impromtu dance party, or "the ring game" (a tradition found only in Iraq where two teams take turns predicting who has the ring and erupting into chaos when it is finally discovered. I didn't fully appreciate the strategy involved, but it was clearly very exciting nonetheless), I really came to appreciate this close group of friends. I said my goodbyes with genuine sadness, as I had really grown attached to all of them, and finally boarded my train to Rishikesh.

What is Going ON Here!!??!

My reception in Rishikesh was surreal...after two weeks of floating haplessly around Delhi, I was greeted at the railway station in Haridwar by a turbaned driver with an air-conditioned SUV. I was taken to Ganga Vatika, the residential colony where my friend Sanjay lives, and promptly shown to "the guest house" flat. Needless to say I was shocked and amazed. Back in my beloved Rishikesh, I am still a world away from the creature-infested cage where I discovered God just across the river...

All of these luxuries are courtesy of my friend Sanjay and his wife Ranju, a couple I met back in March. Sanjay is Indian by birth but lived a fast and loose lifestyle in the states for twenty years until a near-death-by-car accident snapped him out of his insanity and led him back to India. He was married last year to Ranju in an arranged marriage, and now he lives a comfortable life in Rishikesh surrounded by his extended family. Altogether his family must occupy six or seven of the flats at Ganga Vatika.

Sanjay's mother and aunties were thrilled to meet me and have not stopped feeding me loads of delicious, home cooked Indian food since I arrived. At first I thought they were just very excited to have a visitor, but I quickly discovered their true motive; Sanjay's brother Vijay has just arrived from the states to begin the search for a bride, and it just so happens that I am the "ideal" prospect...the women folk chatter excitedly in Hindi about how beautiful I am (!) and how Indian I look (!) as they collectively eyeball my every move. "Just what he wants," they say over and over..."tall, slim, and fair."

Sanjay and I, being American at heart, had a good laugh about it....at first. After all, it's entirely not an option, right? We're just making a funny joke, right?! Ha ha ha! Right?!!?...

The night Vijay arrived, the women lured me into the bedroom and picked out a saree for me to wear. I knew what their aim was, but for selfish reasons I went right along. To wear a saree is to be instantly transformed into an elegant goddess, and I've been longing to wear one since I first arrived back in March! Three women armed with safety pins went to work and within a half hour the transformation was complete, with elegant Indian jewelry, gold bangles, chapal (sandals) and even a bindi (the red dot they wear on the forehead). I was giddy with excitement and most happily posed for pictures (forthcoming).

After we feasted on an array of Indian delicacies - including lemons that had been preserved for 20 years - mom, dad, and aunties conveniently disappeared and I found myself walking along the Ganga with Sanjay, Ranju, and my prospective groom as he sang Hindi songs to me. Do I need to say that it was completely unreal? I'll admit I am intensely curious about the meetings held between prospective couples, and I was really hoping to be a fly on the wall for a couple of them, but never, ever, did I imagine I would be interviewed myself!!!! Thankfully, in a day or two the other prospects will begin to arrive and Vijay's entourage will be busy interviewing them while I escape back to Delhi. In the meanwhile I've decided to simply add the experience to the list of things I can permanently check off "the list" (along with experiencing the monsoon, killing a chicken, and losing my passport).

After the last days I realize that I am still walking around in a cloud of confusion. With only a week or so more to stay in Rishikesh, it is simply not an option to delve back into ashram life. But more than ever I am feeling the need to settle into one spot and have some work. I figure that by January I should finally be ready to choose a spot and settle in.

In the meantime Rishikesh is just as powerful as ever and I'm starting to understand that if a soul happens to find himself here, chances are he will return for the rest of his life. It's just that kind of place. A place where the air reverberates with life and literally anything can happen. It's just not possible to convey the experience in words...

I've had two days of yoga now with my teacher Surinder - a kind Sikkh man who constantly encourages me to become a teacher myself - and already the muscles are coming back. After one week it will be time to go back to Delhi, but this time I will be staying with Sanjay's auntie Veena, a sweet woman who speaks little English but who has generously opened her home to me and even promised me my very own maidservant who will cook, clean, and - get this - massage!

Once again, I am forced to ask, Does It Get Any Better Than This???????

Thank you God for keeping me healthy and safe. Thank you mom for your generous understanding and support. Thank you dad for always being ready to move mountains for me.

I finally understand how much you both sacrificed to take good care of us and I know how difficult it had to be. More than ever I feel awash in your love...it gives me the courage to face my demons, one day at a time, with the conviction and determination to see it to the finish, however long that takes and wherever it may lead.

I may be confused and uncertain about my path, but there is nothing uncertain about your love. Words can never express how much this means for me and my journey. Without it I could be nothing. I am unspeakably proud and blessed to call you my parents. If you were here right now I might wrap my arms around you and never let go.

all my love and light,
LMA