This morning we started our journey with a 45-minute flight from Mumbai to Goa then boarded a dilapidated bus enduring a 7 hour ride to Mundgod, a Tibetan colony in the state of Karnataka. As I write, monks are chanting vibrant prayers. Their voices are urgent as if Buddha was slipping away. A young, sunburned moon hangs low on the horizon like a shallow tea cup without its saucer.Read More
Last night while walking down a dark, dusty road, I heard the whispers of a child. I looked up to see a young boy somewhere between the age of nine or ten. He was walking in small circles within the confines of a gated courtyard chanting verses from a well-worn book.
Amidst a lush landscape there was a moment of silence just before the concert began. It was a whisper in time, the February 4, 2013 kind of moment that poets use to describe eternity. Here near the island of Diwar where I have been for almost a month, there is a spaciousness that I rarely find in my day-to-day existence.Read More
The community gathers once a year for this event in Old Goa which marries Hindu and Portugal traditions… culture, music, food, religion, poetry, all shared and exchanged under a blanket of stars. The weaving of these societies defines Old Goa. It’s a testament of what is possible when mutual respect and honor exist among people.
For me, it felt intoxicating like being in the midst of a Rumi poem!
Years ago I remember reading words by Flavia that went something like this, “Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Others leave footprints on our hearts and we are never the same.”
This young girl was one such gift. She waited patiently outside the temple of Banteay Samre for tourists to buy her scarves. There she was in the midst of a half dozen other girls selling trinkets. There was something in her eyes that still tugs at my heart.Read More
His name is Huor… he’s called Ta Huor out of respect by the locals.
Ta Huor is a famous medicine man who works with native plants and much, much more. He practices what Cambodians refer to as “white magic”. During the civil war he taught his students who were forced to fight how to protect themselves. It’s believed that Ta Huor cannot be hurt by bullets or bombs. He’s beloved here in Siem Reap.
Every province has such men and women but it’s a secretive practice that few discuss openly. I was fortunate that my driver knew Ta Huor and was willing to take me to meet him.
Anyone who knows me knows that I’m as awkward cooking as I am ballroom dancing… on second thought, maybe my future as a ballroom dancer is brighter.
So having never taken a cooking lesson, it seems hilarious that would start in Cambodia with Khmer cuisine. What a blast! I prepped, shredded, chopped. In the end, my classmates and shared a feast of mango salad, fresh spring rolls, curry and sticky rice with mango for dessert.Read More
About an hour outside of Siem Reap, along a long, dusty road are a long row of boats bobbing in a nearby river. They’re worn and ragged a lot like how I’m feeling at the moment. Little do I realize the voyage that awaits me.Read More
In the middle of the lake are several restaurants where families live and serve food for visiting tourists.Read More
Tomorrow I set off for the Surin Islands with four other dedicated researchers and scientists. Surin Islands are situated off the coast of Thailand and are home to the Moken people, also known as ‘Sea Nomads’.Read More