Sleeping Around

Ulli’s Place, Thimphu, Bhutan (March 17, 2012) — The end of a very long and disturbing night found me here, alone. Ulli stayed out partying. I slept in my clothes, enjoying the luxury of the electric blanket. I must get one of those if I ever spend a winter in the Himalayas, although I’ve made a promise to myself to avoid winter next year at all costs. There was a synthesizer in the room but Ulli wasn’t there in the morning for me to ask if she played. I left at the crack of dawn and made a beeline for the quiet of Paro.

Rene’s Room, Thimphu, Bhutan (March 16, 2012) — I am like Phuntsho Wangmo’s house cat that slips in the door and curls up where there’s a nice spot. Tonight it was in Rene’s room. She’s gone to boarding school. I’m grateful to have this home away from home, especially after long days of meetings.

Reading Material: Charlotte’s Web. I forgot how perfect a book that is.

Satsam Chorten, Paro, Bhutan (March 12, 2012)—I spent the night on the sofa of Yann and Sally’s cute little home last night because I was too lazy and too cozy to go home after fresh baked bread and earthy soup and good conversation with them and Anwen and their friend Frank who lives in Nepal. Frank is a hard core dharma student from Germany. He was describing life in Kathmandu, where electricity is cut 18 hours a day, where there is no cooking fuel available now for over a month, where the air quality would kill a canary, where the rivers have been transformed into sludge channels, where the tap water can and will put you in the hospital.

And yet he likes it there. He says, “Kathmandu is ten years ahead of the rest of the world.” A haunting thought.

I walked most of the way home in the morning, alongside school children in their uniforms swinging their plastic lunch tiffins, dodging cars. The whole way, every step, was lined with garbage. There is a culture here that allows liberal tossing of gum wrappers, juice boxes, noodle packets, coca cola bottles without a single thought. It’s depressing, I tell you. And I need to figure out how to teach teachers to teach Bhutanese students to slow down their trajectory to Kathmandu’s level of pollution. What will it take?

Temperature: Cold outside but warm inside, warmer than my own home. I slept very well despite, or perhaps because of, the close quarters and high volume of bodies. Luckily got home before the cold rain started to fall. A gloomy day in Paro.

Reading Material: Sally loaned me The Kingdom of Infinite Space by Raymond Tallis. Such a fun read!

Suresh Jindal’s House, Sundarnagar, New Delhi, India (February 6-9, 2012) — I’ve known Suresh for a few years. He is a fascinating figure with his snow white bobbed hair and big beard, full like my father’s. He carries a comb to brush it out regularly. Suresh is an intellectual, a film producer (Gandhi, for one), and a student of Rinpoche’s. I interviewed him once for Tricycle Magazine. 

Usually I stay in Inderpuri when I’m in Delhi but I had a series of final dentist appointments to correct what that lunatic did to me in New York ten years ago (long story) and Suresh’s house was just 2 stops away on the metro so I asked if I could stay at his lovely home for a few nights. He kindly arranged for his staff to greet me and serve me teas and make me very comfortable. Alas, he was in Sri Lanka by the time I arrived so I did not see him there.

The room was enormous yet cozy. Because the bed was also enormous the proportions are thrown in this image. I slept very well. The rest of the house is spacious and filled with beautiful art, elegant yet unfussy. It reminds me of my father’s first wife’s home in Tel Aviv with its high ceilings and perfectly chosen items.

I highly recommend Dr. Soni’s Dental Clinic in Lajpat Nagar, New Delhi. Dr. Amit Dania is my hero.

Ulpotha, Sri Lanka (January 29-February 6, 2012) — We arrived in the middle of the night and I was disoriented. There is no electricity at Ulpotha only gas lanterns. Shadows shifted across mud walls. I let down the mosquito net and lay waiting for the effects of the bumpy drive to dissolve. There was a growl above my head. Claire, who was in the bed across the hut, and I debated whether it was a mammal or a bird. An owl we decided. Claire is very good at replicating bird sounds. In the morning we awoke to a symphony. This is what it sounded like. We would listen for a while then without needing to discuss it, we’d get up, mount our bicycles and ride over to the bathhouse. Maybe stop for a tambly (coconut water), and head into the jungles for yoga. Danielle, the massage therapist said one night a 6 foot black snake crawled up to her mosquito net to say hi. A rat snake. Harmless they say. I had a spider the size of a coffee can lid attached to mine. But if anything these creatures enhanced the experience of living with nature for a whole week. No phones, no computer. People actually talked to each other without their eyes darting to a screen. I felt so grounded when I left and a bit of it has even remained with me.

Temperature: Perfect.

Reading Materials: Finished Madame Bovary (reading parts aloud to Claire) and Night Swim by Jessica Keener.

Grateful to the New York Times for including my latest Tricycle Magazine article on trying to stay awake in their Diner’s Journal “What We’re Reading” section. Meanwhile, 9 new beds to report but no time.

Little Dream Resort, Dambulla, Sri Lanka (January 28, 2012) — Claire came to visit the set and fetch me for my next adventure so I gave her my bed in Lucinda’s room and checked into Little Dream down the road for about 1/10 the price. Claudia of continuity was also checked in. We ate eggs and toast together in the morning in the owner’s living room while they watched a serial on TV. There was a frog in my bed and the fan didn’t work. I dreamed little at little dream. It was all part of the experience. 

Temperature: A little too hot and muggy. No sheet required.

Reading Material: A few pages of Madame Bovary

Lake Lodge, Dambulla (January 23-27, 2012) — It hit me as I climbed onto a local bus in Colombo that I was free, I was on vacation. No one knew where I was exactly. At the airport a man needed $15 US for his visa so we traded some money and that’s all I had in my pocket. I bought a coconut and some cashews and started off on the 5 hour journey to Dambulla. This is where Rinpoche is shooting his film, Vara, with a huge cast and crew. I am writing about the whole experience for Tricycle Magazine’s May issue. In the meantime, I was lucky to share a room with Lucinda at the Lake Lodge. It’s a beautiful hotel with just 6 rooms. Nanette was upstairs, Chime next door, Pawo on the other side and Rinpoche in Room #1 and cinematographer Bradford Young above Chime’s room. I had a blissful week visiting the set, interviewing people, sharing meals outdoors, swimming in the clean pool. 

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I like polished cement floors. I like sliding glass. I don’t mind a monkey in the tree. If it can be this good now, it can be this good forever <tm the Bachelor)

Navan Guest House, Chennai (January 22, 2012) — Wrung out like a janitor’s rag I landed in Chennai late at night with no place to stay and three different half confirmed tickets to Sri Lanka on my drained computer. Fog in Delhi had done me in. Flights were cancelled, flights were missed, flights were caught by the edges of my broken nails. I’d fought my way here, racing through Kolkata Airport as if my life depended on it. I’d begged stranger after stranger for use of their cel phones, I swore at a chai vendor, I wandered in and out of security zones with swirls in my eyes. And here I was finally in Chennai, collecting my limping bag from the conveyor with smudged hands and face. I wandered to a vacant help desk and from the fluorescent effulgence emerged a man with a business card who promised me everything I needed. A car to a bed and ride back in the morning for 900 rupees. My savior in Sikkim arranged some flights and I was able to lay my head on the starchy sheets with some semblance of peace. I slept gingerly, meaning alert and snappy, twisted and a little bitter but full of potential. All I needed was a little warmth. 

Navan Accommodation, #9 Mosque St. Pallavaram, Chennai-43

Hotel Mount View, Siliguri (January 21, 2012) — Once again bus tickets were snitched and we were left to make our way from Phuntsoling to Siliguri by hook and by crook and by tuk tuk. We tried for another bus but there was no doing so we took another tuk tuk crammed with babies and ladies and went to the Hasimara train station, 40 minutes into India along the tea estates. For 20 rupees we bought train tickets that took us the 4.5 hours from Hasimara to Siliguri. The train was a wonderful rickety thing filled with families and lady-boys, sleepy people, and chai-wallahs. The air was warm and the pastoral scenery easy on the eyes. Much better than any bus. We snacked on cold coconut chunks and roasted peanuts and finally arrived in Siliguri in the early evening, in time to have a nice Rajasthani feast.

These transit towns—Phuntsholing, Jaigon, Siliguri—all have a lively energy and I was excited about my journey to come. We checked into The Hotel Mount View, a fine place near the station with no mountains and no view for about $20. In the morning I took a taxi to Bagdogra Airport बाघदोग्रा विमानस्थल. I think the taxi only had three tires, it wobbled like my hobbled suitcase. But we made it to the airport in about half an hour. I soon learned that the fog in Delhi had grounded many planes and my flight to Kolkatta was delayed. Which meant I would miss my flight to Chennai, which meant I would miss my flight to Sri Lanka. And so, I am ashamed to admit, I shed a few tears. At least I’d had a decent night’s sleep back in Siliguri.

Hotel Mount View, Opposite Central Bus Terminus, Hill Cart Road, Siliguri, Dist. Darjeeling, Pin 734003. (0353) 2510030, 2510023. Rs1400/night minus 270 discount plus tax = Rs1200

Centennial Hotel, Phuntsholing (January 20, 2012) — My bus ticket went missing so I was lucky to get the last remaining seat at the back of the bus next to gum popping teenagers. Bhutanese like their fresh air so the windows were kept down and my feet froze into ice blocks despite my wooly boots. We swerved along the precipices 7 hours down the Himalayas to the border town of Phuntsholing. Somewhere along the way the wheel popped off my beloved Swiss Army suitcase. Then Central hotel said I didn’t have a reservation. By the time I checked into the alternate Centennial Hotel I needed a drink and was happy to have a Druk 1100 delivered to my room. I sipped it down and relaxed thinking maybe this rough beginning meant smooth sailing as I continued to Sri Lanka. Little did I know the worst was yet to come. At least they let me have the 900 nu local rate and the bed was comfortable. In the morning I was stamped out of the country and took a tuk tuk into India.