You Got to Know When to Hold 'em
Know When to Fold 'em..

My busride to Delhi was a smashing success. In ten hours of bumping, swerving and honking, nobody groped me or stole anything, temperatures did not exceed 40 C (100? F) and I didn't vomit.

After checking into my guest house in Pahar Ganj, I went directly to the airport to meet Cristina. The rickshaw wala who drove me there wanted to be my special friend, but I told him no thanks. I waited at the international arrivals gate for several nervous hours before I finally spotted her, whereupon I gave her an excited hug and welcomed her to my India. My dirty, hot, humid, crowded, insane India.

We hired a taxi and headed out into the night, jabbering all the way. As exhausted as we were, we continued to jabber away until three or four in the morning. Sometime during the course of our intense exchange, I understood that I would be learning something very significant from her visit..

Cristina's maternal uncle is my stepfather, George. He was a blessedly consistent presence in my life for nearly twenty years, and it took that long for me to know him. At his funeral in the summer of 2003, I learned more about him than I had ever known before. He was a remarkable character, at turns hilarious and humble, frequently (and maddeningly!) inane, and yet capable of great wisdom. In later years we established a mutual understanding and, just before his death, he gave me the greatest gift of my life.

I have mentioned before that even though he is not physically with me, I remain close to George. Even it is difficult for me to mourn his death as I am quite sure he is with me every day. I cannot offer a "rational" explanation for this, but perhaps one day it will come. For now I can say only that this is my experience, and in fact we have grown closer since his death four years ago. But I assure you that I fully intend to expound on his remarkable gift, and in doing so share much more about this inspirational man, my stepfather, in the near future...so stay tuned..

. . .

Cristina's first day in India consisted of clothes shopping in the tourist nightmare known as Pajar Ganj, an unsuccessful first meal of indian rice cakes (idly) and the neverending Bus Ride From Hell back to Rishikesh, an ordeal that needed two days of recovery (for both of us). In spite of the horror in her face, I was confident that she would get over the initial shock and find something to appreciate in the madness. I was quite pleased to discover that she does not complain, relieved to discover that she cleans her own wounds, and alarmed to discover that she does not like fruit or vegetables..

Here only one week, we have had the opportunity to take holy Ganga bath, explore the Beatle's Ashram, and taste some of the (admittedly strange) culinary offerings of this place. Alas, timing is everything. Cristina has been accepted into a study program in Peru (in her chosen field of Archaeology) and has decided to return home so she can both rest and prepare properly for her departure next month. I am sorry to see her go, but I know that her adventures are only just beginning and that the planets will align to bring us together again. It's just a matter of time.

Her presence here has brought back a lot of memories for me, including my first travel (to Mexico, 23 years of age) and my own difficulties there. I didn't speak Spanish at the time, so instead I just slept. Then I remembered my first trip to India (Tamil Nadu, 25 years of age), where I spent the first month in a state of deep confusion and self doubt. It takes time to adjust to and appreciate this vast and vastly different culture. Often I advise would-be India travellers to give six months to the venture. One year is better.

We have arranged for her to return to Delhi on 10 June, accompanied by the latest kindred spirit sent to me by my ever-vigilant pack of guardian angels, Jo. I met Jo four years ago in Montreal and God has reunited us here in Rishikesh. Jo is a remarkable woman, well-travelled and hilarious. She has me excited again about working in Tunisia and we spend a lot of time together laughing and dreaming up all the ways we can partner together in the future. I am grateful to have another strong woman like her in my life.

As for me, I will proceed with my original plan to walk to the origin of Mother Ganga in the mountains. We will leave tomorrow morning and I would be lying if I said I wasn't scared. But I have excellent company and I know I will be safe and protected. I expect the trek will take up to two weeks.

As I sit here now, overwhelmed by the chaos in my room as I attempt to pack up, I am anxious about resuming gypsy life for the next three months. I am sad to say goodbye, both to my brave (if overly ambitious) cousin Cristina and to my comfortable home of the last months.. It seems clear that I am in for yet another difficult summer, but I am comforted to know that I will return to my Rishikesh - and my room - when the madness has subsided in September.

So that's it, the update as simply as I can manage one. There is much more to share, as always, but for now I must stop procrastinating and get packing!

with greatest affection as always,
om shantih om,
LMA