F*%k the Ashram. I'm going to Goa

People come to India for many reasons. Many feel lost and unable to find themselves in the country of their birth; surrounded by friends, family and familiar objects and possessions. So they do the logical thing and fly to the Indian subcontinent where they will stand out a bit more (and I assume will be easier to locate).

A lot of these people have read Eat Pray Love. This book convinces them that the secret to finding ones self is to drop everything and live in an ashram, living a deeply spiritual life, under the direction of a guru. A spiritual leader who helps find ones spiritual self. You rise with the sun, clean (the ashram and yourself), pray, meditate... and repeat.

The types of people that do the whole Ashram thing are easy to spot in the western world. All you need to do is get up at 5am in summer and you will find them  serenely practicing their yoga, bathed in the first rays of the newborn sun. The rest of us may like the idea of watching the sunrise, and in a moment of panic may attempt a yoga, pilates or zumba class once at the gym (to us they are all the same) but we only do these things as a one off, so that we can rest assured we could do these them for longer if we really wanted.

What makes life hard for me is that I know that I will never find myself silouetted against the horizon in a distorted and semi-petrified lotus position. I enjoy my sleep, I am lazy and I am so unflexible that in my one and only pilates class I was given a large rubber band so that I could use the extra leverage so it would look like I was trying rather than just leaning slightly over to each side, while the rest of the class lay prostrate on the floor. This elastic band is the exercise equivalent of the fat-person seat belts on airplanes - by the time you get one, you are already too far gone to be redeemed. At that point I knew that pilates was not for me went to McDonalds and comforted myself with a Big Mac and a large strawberry shake...

What made me happy in India was the realization that most of the ashram seeking hippies do the equivalent. They go to India but get sick of it and end up at the beach.
Goa is a wonderful, laid back place filled all those hippies who figured out they weren't quite that hardcore. One person - who we shall call Ivory, signed up for four months in an ashram but came to Goa after nine days. Another person lasted two weeks before heading for the coast. As we sat at the Evershine Guesthouse in Goa, we discovered that this is actually a pretty common thing - and I admire them both for their lack of perseverance, their ability to say no - their ability to stand up and say "Dammit - this is stupid. I'm leaving".

You see, these young, flexible western women might not have found their spiritual selves, but they did find out that the ashram was a waste of time. When every one else dropped to their knees in reverence to the gods at a shrine. They chose to remain standing and wonder what the hell everyone was doing (please note that this is not a metaphor - this is a story that was actually told to us). A lot of you dear readers may be asking why I admire this lack of fortitude, and I will tell you.

At least they gave it a go. There are many people that have a dream, a long cherished vision that sits ideally on the shelf. They are like Martin Luther King junior, except they keep their dream to themselves, tucked safely away until it falls victim to the ages and vanishes in a puff of dust.

The girls we met went to the Ashram, hated it and went to Goa instead - but they still made the journey. While everyone else wonders what it would be like, they know. They will get back and teach yoga in the US or Australia, knowing that they skived off, because it was a waste of time. Whether they choose to tell anyone is up to them. While others dream, they made their dreams happen.

And that has made all the difference. 

Namaste!

Whilst my last blog: Euomission 2011 was a bit of an epic sixth month journey in a campervan. This journey will last only three weeks with a backpack... and my little wife trailing behind (anyone that knows Erin will realize how laughable that is).

Our schedule is ambitious for three weeks: Goa-Mumbai-Udaipur-Jaipur-Jaisalmer-Jodhpur-Varanasi-Delhi then on to Dubai-Sydney-Auckland (home).

We're not trying to cover the entire subcontinent, we're just trying to get a bit of a taste for this country which I am slightly ashamed to admit I know very little about.

To be quite honest my knowledge to date consists of the following:

1. For a long time they were the centrepiece of the British Empire.
2. A thin fella named Gandhi had something to do with their independence.
3. They have a lot of railways.
4. They eat a lot of curry.
5. They love cricket.
6. They do weird musical dances in the middle of their movies.

While this is not much of an introduction to a country with a 5000 year history and a billion people it will have to do. Hopefully I will have a better grasp of this emerging superpower by the end.



Thomas

Airport lounges on the cheap

Before I had even left for our trip to India I came to the realization that modern air travel is a class system and that I am most definitely lower class.

At the top end of the travel spectrum, the ultra-wealthy and important live in a world which is as impenetrable to the normal human, as the European châteaux were to the peasant of medieval France. This dining-suited superclass travel on private gulf-stream jets, are met by chauffeured limousines or just take their rolls royce with them on their plane. Upon landing the tail of the plane folds open and a ramp descends. Their car (with Bond like revolving numberplates) then drives them down the ramp and straight off the tarmac onto the waiting roads, where they are escorted by the local constabulatary for "security reasons". These people live a champagne life, where I consider myself to be more of a diet coke kind of guy .

When we travel we do so in the air equivalent of a public bus. In Europe we fly Ryan Air - though we sometimes treat ourselves to Easyjet. Between Australia and New Zealand we fly Jetstar and V Australia. In Asia, Jetstar and Air Asia and in India our flights are with Indigo and Jetair. Despite the fact that flights on these airlines often cost half of their "full service" counterparts, many of our friends and family would never consider such a budget service. The irony is that if they brought themselves to do it once, they would never fly on any other airline ever again - as the experience is almost identical.

Though I am happy with the money saved, I am aware that there is another glorious world out there. Though I am not willing to pay the 4000 pounds premium required for a flat bed on a twelve hour flight, I am still jealous. When changing flights, we reside within Burger King or on plastic furniture while these other people lounge on leather and avail themselves of unlimited food and drinks, and those salted peanuts that you can't stop eating. I understand that these people pay a sizeable premium for this service, but I am still unreasonably, and disproportionately envious of them.

After a bit of research I figured out that it is actually possible to have many of the travel benefits without spending a small fortune. For a 60 dollar annual membership you can get a Diners Club card each year which offers access to air lounges around the world - many of these are the same lounges used by first class and business class flights. I wish that I had figured this out before the flight, when I had a job and could still actually get a credit card but what can you do. However, I then found out about the lounges which have single use entry fees, and which turned out to be surprisingly affordable.

Our first days travel consisted of several semi back-to-back flights. We flew from Gatwick to Dubai, waited for four hours, flew from Dubai to Delhi, had another five hour wait and then flew on to Goa. After a bit of research I found out that there were several airport lounges in Delhi for which you can get single entry passes. My crazy experiment commenced. For 15 pounds each, we purchased a lounge entry which also included refreshments and the use of a small apartment with double bed, shower and wake up call for both of us.

The experiment was a grand success and turned what would have been a gruelling 27 hours of travel into a manageable 20, a two hour power nap and then with a casual two hour flight at the end - fully rested and showered.

This meant that we arrived in Goa where we were met by a nice man from our hostel holding a piece of cardboard with our names on it. 

It might not be a private jet and a Rolls Royce - but it's a start.