The Most Incredible Place Ever (in the Whole History of Incredible Places)

I have no idea where to begin.

This should be a monumental blog post. The kind that takes you three hours to read, but you read the whole thing because it's that important. And then you read it again.

Chad, Rose and I are in Rishikesh--the yoga capital of Planet Earth. For Real. We left the ashram for a few days. Rose flies out the day after tomorrow, back back back to the red, white and blue country that isn't France. So Chad and I have accompanied her down the mountain for a few days in the city.

Though it wasn't wholly for the sake of giving Rose travel buddies. Tomorrow we're heading to Dehra Dun to run errands and buy stuff for the school. This could have waited--and would have waited--were it not for a giant power spike that wrecked his laptop charger. Power isn't too reliable here. And then there's Himalayan Lightning Furystorm 2008 in which a nice, friendly bolt of lightning wreaked havoc on our bedroom in a flash of blue light that we felt course through our small, feeble bodies, knocking out power like Mike Tyson punching little kids. And then there is general power loss, which happens between one and eight times each day. If it only happens once, it's usually because it never came back.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm talking about electricity. Electricity is exactly the one thing that I shouldn't be talking about, seeing as life is completely wonderful without it. I should be telling you all about the ashram, and plunging into a blissfully simple life where all we have to do is cook, read, talk and throw little kids around in the air.

I'll let you in on the daily schedule.

We rise and begin morning meditation at 4:00am. Yes. 4:00am. I didn't know that one could wake up this early. In fact, I only thought this time existed when you stayed up until it came around. Meditation ends at 5, at which point I either help prepare breakfast, read and write, or go back to sleep until food. Breakfast is at 7:00. Then there's cleanup and school preparation. School begins around 9:30, Monday through Saturday--though yesterday about half the kids showed up on their day off to learn a new song (remember this, the new song bit is coming later.) School begins with assembly-fifteen minutes of meditation followed by 45 minutes of beautiful music chaos. When classes begin, I've been mostly working on other projects or peeking into this class and that to see what's happening. At 12:30 we have interval, where Chad and I school little tiny Indian kids on the basketball court. School ends at 3:30. Food prep until dinner at 4:30. Then cleanup and study time. English class for the teachers at 7:00. Evening meditation at 8:00. Then off to the bedroom to read for about two and half minutes before I fall asleep.

Whew.

My projects at the school are all based around music. To begin with, I've brought the recording equipment that they were so excited about getting. I'm training several of the teachers to record, and writing a sort of simple english basics of recording manual. After the technical side of it, I'm also writing kids songs to add into the children's repertoire. We finished the first two days ago, and began teaching it to the kids yesterday. They love it. And it's really adorable (hilarious) to hear them singing in English. On the 26th is Republic Day. The kids have a big performance for the community--lots of singing and dancing and skits. We'll be singing the song for their parents! Yes!

Gosh. What now?

The food. It's really incredible. Two meals a day, which I was terrified of. But I'm rarely hungry. Each meal is simple--rice, dahl, sabzi. That's rice, lentils and vegetables for you Westerners. And a sweet dish in the morning. And chai here and there throughout the day. And the best part is that we don't use utensils! Only our hands!

Which has taken some getting used to. You use your right hand to feed yourself. Which is about the most fun you can have as a 23 year old male. Your left hand you use to...nevermind.

But what makes this place incredible are the people. I was really surprised at the atmosphere here. I expected a school--a big building that felt very official and teachers who quite serious and a headmaster who was strict--but have stepped into an atmosphere more akin to Indianola or Lazy F. It's a place where people have come to live together, learn together, and help the community around them. The teachers range from 20 to 40, most falling in the early twenties range. There are varying levels of English, so some are experts and some just began to learn once they moved in. They're so much fun. Everything--teaching, eating, talking, singing, slicing vegetables--is so full of life. Chad and I are currently working on getting people to freestyle with us while we peel potatoes.

And now some random facts:

I am having new pants made for me by the deaf-mute tailor in Anjanisain.
Anjanisain is the village by the ashram.
There is a huge spider that has been living behind a photo above my bed since the day I arrived. He comes out at night, but never strays more than two inches from the picture.
Number of days I've been at the ashram: 9. Number of Days I've been ridiculously gassy: 9. Number of roommates who have to deal with it: Chad.
My feet always fall asleep about twenty minutes into meditation.
Everyone has been singing the main line in the kids song I wrote non stop for the last two days. Including Chad and myself. It's so catchy we can't get it out of our head. Which is becoming irritating.
Indian kids are way more durable than American kids.
Chad and I are the Cibatti Kings of Anjanisain.
I shower with a bucket.
There are no toilets.
Or paper.
In the village, a monkey tried to steal my sweets.
I helped move a big pile of dirt using shovels and burlap sacks.
Discovered that the most productive hours in my day just might lie between 5am and 7am.
I picked through the lentils a few times. This was the first time I've ever had a job where if I failed it meant that EVERYBODY ATE ROCKS.
In Hindia, sir is ji. You put ji just after someone's name. So when the kids address me, it's not Ben. It's Ben Ji. Benji. Or they just call me Edge, who is, apparently, a professional wrestler who is tall and white and has long blond hair.

Ah, life in the ashram. It's good. Really good.

But that doesn't mean I'm not coming home. I changed my flight this very afternoon. So get ready, Pacific Northwest.

Yar, February 11th be the day. Family and friends, ye be warned.