Traveling on, meeting new friends, making connections and experiencing love

It's been two months since we last posted something on this blog. It is not that there was nothing to write about, on the contrary there was so much to write about that we got a bit overwhelmed and also traveling has caught up with us. So even though we have not written we carried on traveling both on the outside and that prompted further our inner journeys.

The New Year began with a wonderful re-connection and tonnes of laughter with our busy urbanite friends from Mumbai, Kamayni and Ulhas, who came to Thekkady to spend the holidays with us and they managed to squeeze in every tourist attraction Thekkady and PeriyarTiger Reserve had to offer, they saw more tourist attractions in three days then Jerry and I managed to see in six weeks. A day after day left we left Thekkady on 4^th January. It was not easy to leave TheChrissie's Hotel, which was our temporary home for 6 weeks. There, while offering some of our hotel consultancy work we experience wonderful connections, made some new friends some of whom, we know, will stay in our life wherever we might be in the future.

Adel, a lovely, friendly and warm owner of the Chrissies Hotel and Cafe and his quiet yet equally loving girlfriend Ulli had welcomed us, with open arms to their jungle dream oasis. From the day one they trusted us and were open to ideas and changes we wished to introduce. The rest of the staff needed a bit more time. They knew we were there to introduce some changes that were supposed to bring improvements and potentially more customers and they wanted those changes, but they also needed time to develop their trust and to feel at ease with us 'roaming' around kitchen and the hotel checking things out. In the first few days we had quite a revelation about our own behaviour.  We realised that sometimes we were sitting on our, proverbial, European high horse looking a bit down at people judging them from our cultural bias rather than seeing their actions or inactions as it may be in the cultural context of India. Needless to say it seemed to us that some members of staff were not very friendly towards us, of course they were not, they were just mirroring our own attitude and behaviour. Luckily, we had enough awareness between us to see our behaviour for what it was, we caught our ego by its tail and we managed to remind ourselves about the NVC values and consciousness from which we wanted to live our lives. Always try to see and connect with the human being and their needs first and foremost, and only then look at the actions and behaviours as a way of trying to fulfill some of those needs. Once we realised that our whole demeanour changed, we stopped judging the actions and we started trying to connect to needs members of staff were trying to fulfill with those actions. We identified that the main need for all the the staff members was safety, other needs such as inclusion, acknowledgement, being seen and heard were also highly present. From this perspective it was much easier to stay with the human and to look for new strategies that might meet the staff's individual needs mentioned above, while at the same time meeting some of the hotel's needs: efficiency, professionalism, financial safety and a few others. The staff was not just staff for us any longer, rather they all became individual human beings namely: Bindu, Sathish, Binsi, Rajan, Anthony, Anshad, Arun, Mahi, Siva, with their own needs, and with their individual life stories. The more we got to know them, the more we were seeing and acknowledging each one of them, the more connections (despite the language barriers sometimes) we were experiencing and the more warmth and love was being sent in our direction. Somehow, we were included in what Adel calls his Chrissie's family. 

Next to the Chrissie's family, we also met new friends Jane and Chris, long term guests of the hotel. With them we created a strong bond and connection,  laughing a lot about our experiences at the Chrissie's, which out of warmth and love we occasionally referred to as '' the Crazie's''. In the early days of the hotel one of the members of staff was pronouncing Chrissie's as Crazies, hence he used to welcome the guests to Crazies hotel! And just as you think that the things cannot get better and crazier life surprises you. Another workawayer Floor from Holland arrived on the scene of the Chrissie's in mid December. Like us he came to the Chrissie's through Workaway. Apart from bringing gezeligheid* by lighting candles around the hotel, including several in front of our door, with his unique, dry sense of humour and his Dutch directness he brought lots of brightness, insights,warmth and love in Jerry's and my life.

You travel, you meet people, some of them start touching you deeply and then it is time to say good bye. This time at the Chrissie's we had quite a few people who touch our hearts and it was not easy to say good bye and to sail into new adventures. With a mixture of slight sadness because we were departing, and joy of full heart because we have experienced connections and love we said good by to our Chrissie's friends on 4^th January. Our friend Sathish went with us to the bus station and made sure we and all our language were safely on the right state bus to Madurai, Tamil Nadu ... and onwards we went.

* a Dutch word often translated in English as coziness, however it means much more than that, it describes and depicts an atmosphere that is cozy, convivial, sociable, light, friendly, inclusive and so much more.

Rickshaws & Stray Dogs (and the end of the story of the bloomin' cat)

Before touching the subjects that I outlined in the title, I'd like to offer you a paragraph from a book by Leo Buscaglia:

“Nature in Cambodia is very severe (same applies to parts of India, note of this author). Every year the monsoons come and wash everything into the rivers and streams and lakes. So you don't build great permanent mansions because nature has told you that it will only be washed away. You build little huts. Westerners look and say, “Aren't they quaint but poor little people! Living in such squalor.” It's not squalor. It's how you perceive it. They love their houses which are comfortable and exactly right for their climate and culture.”

Leo Buscaglia, Love, p.25, 4^th print, 1985 (Fawcett Crest books)

So, Ron the cat is safely home, even if last night we should have delivered her to her new address, yet she managed to pull a runner. In fact, things are not as bad, nor as hectic as they might seem, since today we are going to be brought to the airport by our friend, the one we saw last night, and we can give her Ron. Throughout the morning we keep policing every possible attempt at escape by our little feline. Successfully so.

Ron gets safely delivered. We get safely brought to the airport. First leg of our journey. It will take us to Amsterdam. In the days to follow we are to give a workshop for healthy relationships in the city of The Hague (if you are interested in reading more about that, just click on this sentence).

Fast forward. Different location, different continent. The temperature is about 33 Celsius. Humid. Very humid, probably 70 to 80 %. Everywhere I look, there are palm trees, mangoes, and so many more trees that I don't know. It's so lush and green that I can hardly believe that I am in a city of some 20 million, at least by the statistics I read. Probably, in reality, many more people than that. It's Mumbai, India.

We are currently sitting in an “auto” (auto-rickshaw, these vehicles are also widely known as tuck-tucks); a three-wheeler vehicle. The driver sits in front, behind a protective screen and holds on to a handlebar, which incorporates some of the necessary elements to control the vehicle: brake, throttle, clutch.

In the back, there is a long seat, where there is room for some three people, sitting very close to each other, often more. These vehicles -and their drivers (often referred to as auto wallahs in this part of the world. Some people consider this term derogatory, some don't) - do an amazing job at circumventing traffic jams. They will squeeze into spaces only recognizable to them, attesting to their mastery and an eye for the exact dimensions of their vehicle. They will create lanes where there are none -this morning we are on a highway with three official lanes, yet I counted seven unofficial ones- they will, in other words, get you there as fast as realistically possible on fully gridlocked roads.

Sitting in the “auto” and given my height, all I can really see when I look sideways are bus tires, tires and more tires and the odd, occasional exhaust pipe, kind of spewing exhaust towards us (“autos” are open vehicles).

It is a sprawling urban jungle we drive through: big buildings next to corrugated iron shacks, small stores next to temples, narrow streets next to three-lane highways. They all seem to intertwine perfectly, in a flow that I start understanding, after having spent a few days here.

Everywhere I look, though, while driving to the north-eastern park located some 15 km from where we are currently residing, there are dogs. Kind of stray dogs but to a point.

I refer to them as kind of strays, as they are and aren't, because most of them seem quite well fed and with a pretty happy expression on their faces; yet they live on the streets. Some of them seem to carry some illness or another. Most though, seem pretty healthy. This notwithstanding, I am advised to leave them alone and go stroke domestic pets if I really must, as some of these street-dogs may carry mange (canine scabies).

What strikes me is how street-wise they are. In a city that has more cars than one can possibly imagine, I see these canine friends wiggle their way through major intersections, looking at traffic and negotiating their way to the other side safely.

I speak with some people and they tell me that many city dwellers do distribute food to them, in fact I see a gentleman with a bag full of food going down towards the street. Many dogs around there; they probably know he is coming.

Another thing that strikes me -more generally- is a general mildness and kindness among the people I meet. There is obviously, like anywhere else, another side to this. I am reading in a local newspaper that there are gangs that steal electricity from the grid and distribute it to those slum-dwellers that can't hook up to the grid, because officially their housing is not allowed to exist, as it does not meet certain legal requirements. These gangs get into turf wars, mafia-style. An example of the other side of the coin, to me.

In a city in which many people live, sleep and cook on the streets -literally- it could seem, to many, almost obscene to talk about pooches yet, together with their goat, cat, monkey and cow counterparts, these dogs are part of the urban landscape in this vast nation and undeniably, from what I have seen so far, city dwellers of this part of Mumbai are kind to them.

My personal theory is that much of this is relevant to all the different cultures that inhabit India. Most of them -if not all- seem to argue in favor of respect for all fellow living creatures. This writer is a mix of yogi and Buddhist and I know for certain that both philosophies recommend kindness to our fellow planet-inhabitants, hence also the existence of such a large number of vegetarians in India. If you live by your desire to be kind and compassionate, then eating a fellow planet-inhabitant becomes a bit tricky -mind you, I fail miserably on this front; I still am a meat eater...-

So, my personal, totally unscientific and perhaps a bit biassed conclusion is that most ethnic, religious and otherwise groups that make up this nation of some 1.3 billion want to live in harmony with their environment. Maybe not always successfully, yet, nevertheless, the desire seems to me to be there.

Where is the bloomin' cat?

It's all set and sorted. It's about 16:00 hours on a Thursday in September, the 24th specifically of the year 2015 C.E.
I am driving to town to pick up some antibiotics that, in theory, will keep malaria well dormant in our systems, should any unfriendly mozzy decide to have a go at us in Kerala, India.
This, of course, according to our doctor in the village we currently live in. Mr Miguel is an immunologist, as well as my G.P for many years now. According to him, when we went to see him a few days previously, we are very, nay, extremely likely to be bitten by some mosquito that will pass on malaria to us. He excitedly goes on to show us pictures of what malaria proto-nuisances look like when they enter our cells. So exciting to him, so scary to me...am I sure I want to go for travel to that area of the world?
I guess curiosity prevails, and the answer is yes...
After this uplifting and exciting indigestion of theoretical malaria, he prescribes another set of antibiotics, just in case we eat something that causes us to spend more time sitting on the loo (Water Closet for those Anglos and non-Anglos among you who don't use this expression) rather than anywhere else in the house. All sorted; any slimy bug does not have any chance with us, by now equivalent of superman and superwoman-travelers.
Anyway, while driving to town I stop at the local ironmonger to get a set of keys. During the last few weeks it has been really frantic. Preparations for this journey have been really exhausting, as we were closing several chapters. For me in particular it was a moment of great changes: the house I had for so many years went back to the bank, on the one side because of our non-willingness anymore to pay a very high mortgage that we had gotten during the years of the boom, on the other side because a lack of desire by the bank to reach a new mortgage agreement. Well, I did need to mourn that chapter in my life, the death of a way of life yet, on the other hand, the palpable presence of precious friends made it possible for us to have another roof over our heads, whilst, at the same time, earning a very good living by promoting one of the properties as a B&B.
So, as I was saying, closing several houses really. And timing was actually quite important because a friend had asked over for dinner, as she knew it was our last evening. She figured it would have been much easier for us if we did not have to cook and, last but not least, it was a good way for us to share a fledgling friendship. We had seen each other only fleetingly, yet it was clear there was a connection at the level of the soul between us.
Furthermore, we had a cat. Ron is the name, after the Spanish verb ronronear, to purr. 18 year-old ginger female with attitude, lots of attitude. Will only eat one specific type of food from one specific store.
That evening, she was going to be relocated to the house of another friend. And here it gets a little more complex.
Friend A who invited us for dinner, was staying in the house of friend B, who was away for a few days. Friend B has a white terrier with a hyperactivity issue, hence friend A did not want him in her house; she agreed to stay in the house of friend B, take care of him, welcome Ron and by the way, take care of her own dog as well. Sounds complex? well, it is!
Back to the ironmonger's store. The keys are ready, I look at my watch: perfect timing; so much so that we have some spare time. I feel like a complete winner, get back into the car and drive back to our abode.
I am met by G, the person I live with, on the terrace, and I share my celebration and celebratory mood with her.
The celebration does not last long.
Gordana tells me, almost casually: "ah, Ron has just pulled a runner into the garden, and hasn't come back."
Usually Ron goes to the garden, which she also considers to be a toilet, and then runs back in. Not this afternoon.
My thoughts are quite adapted to an episode of Miss Marple's: "who dun it" in that I am considering which one to murder first; the cat if and when she comes back, or G for letting her go out, as if G had any magical power to stop cats from pulling runners.
I guess, I reckoned, on the other hand I'll just drop it and meditate myself into peacefulness instead...I stopped drinking alcohol some two years ago; maybe this would be a good occasion to have a whiskey as time is of the essence. Tomorrow midday we have a flight to catch, and if Ron doesn't show up, well, as tough as it might sound, she will be a homeless cat.
It turns out that Ron doesn't show up till we come back, late in the evening. There she is, in front of the big sliding window, screaming and clearly scared.
So what now?
More in my next article...:-)