Dead Sea
This place can be appreciated with an understanding of a few numbers:
- 500m below sea level
- 10x the salt content of the ocean, and thus a density 25% higher than pure water
- 110 deg F in the surrounding desert
It is up near the top of my list for coolest natural places that I’ve ever been to. You can me floating in one of the pictures (it feels incredibly strange to be so very bouyant). The ground is covered in a thick layer of precipitated salt. As my body moved through the sea, I could see all the salt gradients rippling through the water. I was warned that open cuts or bruises in the water would burn – I didnt have any cuts, but even some chafing around my shorts area from hiking and walking so much from the previous days stung pretty bad!
Above is the free beach we went to in Ein Bokek with free showers, chairs, shade, and even shade in the sea.
Thats me!
No need for floaties…
Ein Gedi, Near the Dead Sea
This was the highest of a series of waterfalls and natural pools along the trail. This one was the largest, but was roped off for good reason – we saw a number of fist sized rocks pouring down with the water. It was so beautiful and the water was great to cool off on a 45 deg C (120F) day in the desert.
Last India Entry
I spent the last few days of my time in India to visit the extended fam and shadow a few surgeons in Ahmedabad. Its the biggest city in the industrial powerhouse-of-India state of Gujarat and one of the safest cities in the nation … and consequently one of the more boring ones with alcohol being banned and minimal sources entertainment. I didnt take any shots of the city, mostly because its rather typical. The blog is going on hiatus (for now) since Im leaving India to return to the Jerz, SIGH. Ill kick it back up once my life gets interesting again. I got nothing else of interest for ya, but there are some pre-blog India photos on facebook that are worth checking out. Til next time….
dinner time
Here’s a pic from just outside the lower school where we give out kichri for dinner. Note the children swarming volunteers, cows inexplicably meandering streets, and the general chaos…
Arthi. Round II.
A family of Californians had made a several day stay with us at Food For Life in Vrindavan, just a day after a full bus load of Spaniards had left after their two day stay. Discussions of quiting the free-education-for-the-poor business in favor of a starting a new tourist company were entertained. Joking aside, the influx of visitors from our various homelands is quite therapeutic, especially for those who have spent vastly longer periods here than I, and its spreads the word to new sponsors. I have to appreciate the diverse body of people Vrindavan and FFL have attracted: the fifty year old Brazilian neurosurgeon who after a divorce and the death of her child came to Vrindavan nine years ago; the thirty-something recent ISKCON convert Aussie (with an incredible amount of compassion) who has been working here for nearly a year; the successful Indo-Scottish restuarant/bar/club owner who cancelled his return flight because he finally found some semblance of inner peace. Haha, but if you pry hard enough at the generation of old-head Italians who started FFL some twenty years ago, you’d find the most common story is that of a reckloose hippy embarking on on some fantastical spiritual journey in the heart of India who eventually found meaning and a home here in Vrindavan doing social work. I find this older generation’s lives to be quite unfathomable and ridiculous, but nonetheless, they are doing incredibly commendable and effective work here, not the least because they themselves have lived in Vrindavan for decades.
Anyways, it was the Cali-fam’s last day, so we took the occassion to take that aforementioned boat ride on the Yamuna River to the sunset pooja/arthi. Once again, it was was sweet. This whole sting of ancient buildings were built flush against the river with numerous stairways presumably leading from the ground floors to the submerged river bed, and to the Arthi by land, you have to navigate through their darkened red stone corridors, shewing away monkeys along the way. By river, we simply disembarked right next to the ceremony.
So if youre ever find yourself in Vrindavan, India… haha… be sure to check it out.
River Pooja
A couple of us volunteers went to a pooja on the Yamuna River, just a short kilometer away. Its one of the holiest rivers in north India, only second to the Ganges. We lit candles and sent them down the river on little leaf-cups before getting into the fervor of the chanting. The river ceremony had a ball of fire, a sunset view, about a hundred people, and rampant spiritualism… incredible Its a daily occurrence so we’ll be going again, hopefully via a boat ride which should give me a chance to take some better shots. until then, enjoy these…
some serious rock climbing
This monkey was tearing it up with some NASTY rock climbing moves. it made me jealous.
And for those perceptive enough to wonder… hes wet because he just went diving off a two story high ledge into a pool of water (and more monkeys just kicking it) and is probably off to do it once more… again, making me jealous. the water is clearly disgusting with mud and trash, but it was da mn hot and i dont blame them
Food For Life
I failed to describe earlier what exactly im doing here and why here is Vrindavan, India, a holy city a short train ride from Delhi. I wanted to do humanitarian work, see the living conditions that the UN classifies as poverty for myself, and get started on learning Hindi. Idealist.org got me started on a search for an NGO, and the friendly people at Food For Life Vrindavan gave me some good info, and now here I am, in my third week volunteering. I was never a fan of the name, Food For Life, since it barely touches upon the breadth of the work they do, but the organization started off as a daily food distribution service to poor and hungry children in the early 90s. The organization has certainly grown since, and now Im working at their full fledged 900 student Sandipani Muni School with sponsorship money coming from caring people in Italy, the UK, and elsewhere in Europe and America.
On my first day here, I jumped on a motorbike and headed off into the villages to help obtain a biography of a student’s family. The family of five lived in a hut smaller than my parents kitchen on rented farmland. The children and mother sleep on the concrete floor, which they are lucky to have. The father had severe heart problems, and could no longer work as a rickshaw puller to earn the Rs. 200 (4 bucks) that he usually did. FFL is currently looking for doctors to properly diagnose and treat him. The mother had just finished her course of TB treatment, paid for completely by FFL, and otherwise would have ended up infecting others before dieing herself. The student, 16 years old, fills in the income gap by pulling his fathers rickshaw after school until 10pm. This was his family, and as I read more student biographies, the tribulations of the families of the other 900 or so students at the school are no different in severity. It was certainly hard to look at all the shining faces of the students at the school the same, knowing their lives are filled with unfathomable strife and yet you couldnt tell by just observing them.
So thats what FFL is doing. Give children who would otherwise be playing in shit and dust before entering a life of crime or becoming childlaborers an education, values, and stability. And, one thing to never forget here is: NOTHING in India is ever easy. Just as the easiest way for most people to get drinkable water is to walk 2km to the nearest water pump, helping these kids means helping their mothers and fathers pay for their health care treatment, overcome detrimental practices like child marriage, and make choices that favor a stable environment for their children.
And as for what im doing, I try to fill in the gaps wherever I can. I teach an English class, help write and edit updates being sent to sponsors, aid the doctor with medical work, and take photos to document student activities. Im trying to start a soccer class, but once again, nothing in India happens easily, starting with having to travel to the next big city to simply find a soccer ball.
Ya, so thats a lot at once, but I hope further posts will add to the overall picture of India, the school, and FFL.
This is a school bus
Words constantly need to be redefined in India. This school bus is no more than a wooden cart (haha, with “BULL POWER” aptly written on the side) with two bulls to pull it, yet it daily takes the littlest children to and from the school safely. The drainage system here is no more than a system of occassional open gutters, usually too clogged with shit and mud to do its job. A taxi here is a canopied seat pulled by an impoverished Indian cranking away at the pedals of his bike for usually no more than a quarter. Heres another fun one, a barbershop:
pictures speak 