We began to explore the area around our neighbourhood, and ventured across the footpath to visit our friend Lal Singh at his travel agency the next day, but did not connect with him until a few days later. Our other friend Deepti, formerly a travel agency business partner, met us on the second day at a mini clothing department store, then took us to a four story flashy mall for browsing and lunch, after we picked up her young son from playschool. One of the fast food kiosks on offer was Subway!

Deepti had initially offered to pick me up on her motor scooter and drive me to the clothing store. For a split second, a younger me thought “Yes!“, but then reality took over and the idea of sitting behind her on a bike in the busy Udaipur streets with the bizarre traffic patterns, (choreography, Don calls it), scared the shit out of me. “Don wants to come with us“, I told her, and we met her there in an auto rickshaw, quite dangerous enough in heavy traffic for my current tastes.

Deepti later switched vehicles with her husband, whose office was across the street from the store, in order to drive us around. Don and I crossed the busy street on foot – very carefully – and farther along street I spied Deepti, scooter at right angles to the traffic, crossing a couple of lanes of cars, then riding slowly in front of a city bus! I could hardly believe my eyes. Afterwards I said, “You must have nerves of steel.“. “You have to“, she replied. Sadly, I did not capture a picture of her – but the image is impaled on my eyes!

Over the ten days we were in Udaipur we visited a few of the sites we`d seen before. My favourite, the enormous Indian market, really of about twenty markets, is divided into areas according to their wares: vegetables, cook wear, clothing, and so on. As usual, we saw only a couple of white faces during our time there; the rest of the tourists just have no idea what they are missing.

Our goal on this visit, along with window shopping, was buying a rope to secure Don`s old suitcase. I noticed the rope kiosks by accident on our way out of the market, and Don purchased a blue rope with sparkles on it, luckily just the right length for what he needed.

We had seven days of warm weather, with cool evenings, then some rain came in, very unusual in early December in Udaipur. But a cyclone was brewing farther south, in Northern Maharashtra State and Southern Gujarat State. The cyclone never materialized, but it brought the poor weather. While it was interesting the experience three days of poor weather for the first time ever here, we were sad to lose precious days, as it is doubtful we will return to Udaipur.

One Saturday afternoon, towards the end of our visit, we had an Indian adventure, when we set out in an auto rickshaw, with a driver chosen by Lal Singh, to find a pharmacy. The pharmacy we were referred to was closed, so our driver raced around the circuitous laneways of the Old City, looking for another store, with no luck. Branching out farther, we had to detour several times, as hundreds of folks lined up along bridges and roadways, part of Hindu and Muslim weddings.

We finally located an excellent pharmacy in another part of the city, a long ride in heavy traffic when in an auto rickshaw. Later we were trapped in the middle of what initially looked like a protest, (not good; our government travel advisory tells us to stay away from large crowds), but it turned out to be a Muslim holiday parade.

The highlight of our visit to the City of Lakes was dinner at each of our friend`s homes, where we were served delicious meals. At Deepti’s home we were privileged to be included in their evening pujas, prayer chants to Sai Baba.

A funny cultural misunderstanding occurred in Lal Singh`s home, where we were served appetizers and drinks, and enjoyed pleasant conversation for several hours. When the hour of nine o’clock drew close and we still had not eaten, we weren’t sure what to do. When I quietly told the host we would need to leave soon, my partner Don suggested we should eat. It was then that we discovered that in traditional Rajasthani homes, the guests are meant to say “let’s eat”, not the hosts!! We all had a good laugh over our faux pas, then enjoyed an excellent meal of butter chicken.

On our last morning, we climbed the steep stairs to the deck to find the skies had cleared, and all the tables replaced on the open part of the deck. We passed a happy hour eating breakfast and soaking in the view of the lake and the city before our driver arrived to take us to the airport.

What I will forever remember about our three visits to Udaipur is the strong friendships we developed there, the hours of enjoyment on the deck of Dream Heaven Guesthouse, high above Lake Piccola, and the Indian Market.

Ellen

Copyright 2018 Ellen Besso

Ellen Besso is a former Life Coach & Counsellor & a Reiki Practitioner. She is the author of An Indian Sojourn: One woman’s spiritual experience of travel & volunteering, and Surviving Eldercare: Where their needs end & yours begin, both available through Amazon.

Our third, and possibly last sojourn to Udaipur, in South Rajasthan, was lovely. As is our pattern, we first reacquainted ourselves with the beautiful Dream Heaven Guesthouse, then began to revisit the Old City. The owners of Dream Heaven, Deep and Dilip, brothers-in-law, were happy to see us, on this, our third visit, (the first was in 2009, the second in 2012).

We arrived at Dream Heaven in the late afternoon, just before dusk, after a morning flight from Kangra, near Dharamshala, into Indira Gandhi Airport, Delhi, followed by an afternoon flight to Udaipur, and a busy one hour drive into the city. We noticed that the traffic is heavier now than on other visits.

The first thing one does at Dream Heaven after depositing their baggage in the room, is visit the marble deck at the top of the building. We had forgotten just how breathtaking the view of the lake and the five century old city is at dusk.

We were given a lovely corner room with two view points, a step up from our usual room over the kitchen, a great room with a view, but also with kitchen fumes from time to time!

Dream Heaven, built high above the lakefront, was Deep’s father`s dream, and is built on the family land where Deep was born. Opened in 2006, with just two rooms and four dining tables, it now has eighteen rooms. The additions, all designed by Deep, have turned the guesthouse into a fascinating above ground rabbit warren, with its narrow passages on many levels, joined by stairways of varying heights and steepness.

The simple Dream Heaven rooms are all decorated in traditional Rajasthani style, with wall murals and wall hangings in beautiful colours. It is truly what Deep and his family dreamt of, a  relaxing guesthouse for visitors to come and feel safe and comfortable in. The family members all live in the building, each group in their own quarters, and that adds to the homey feeling.

The Dream Heaven owners and their staff really do live up to their motto of honesty and hospitality and their belief that “Guests are like god”. The delicious food served in the deck restaurant and the incredible views made it hard for us to eat anywhere else, but we did patronize other restaurants at lunchtime.

Ellen

Copyright 2018 Ellen Besso

Ellen Besso is a former Life Coach & Counsellor & a Reiki Practitioner. She is the author of An Indian Sojourn: One woman’s spiritual experience of travel & volunteering, and Surviving Eldercare: Where their needs end & yours begin, both available through Amazon.

New Message from the Council of Grandmothers through Sharon McErlane

“Blessed are all beings,” the Grandmothers said.  “You are blessed.  Everyone on Earth is blessed.  Perhaps you think that because there is so much strife in the world today, you are not blessed, but cursed to be living in these times.  No!  We assure you the opposite is true.  You stood in line to be here on Earth now!” they cried.  “We are speaking figuratively, but in essence, you did.  You wanted very much to be part of life here at this moment in time!

To Learn more about the Great Council of the Grandmothers and how to work with the Net of Light, go to www.netoflight.org

After our two peak experiences during the week of November 13th, our remaining ten days were spent visiting with friends, usually in their home. The week after the Golden Temple trip and meeting the Dalai Lama, we developed an Indian cold, usually a hard hit for us, blamed on the changing weather by both Tibetans and Indians. I don’t disagree with that popular belief, but also think our immune systems are not used to the cold germs in India. After seeing a different Doctor of Tibetan Medicine, a middle aged nun, this time right in the McLeod Ganj office, we took it easy for a few days, going out to eat but otherwise lying low.

The Friday after meeting His Holiness, we climbed down the trail from Pema Thang Guesthouse to Chonor House below for dinner, a five minute hike on rutted dirt. I had been trying to have of meal of their tasty chicken teriyaki for several days, but they had run out of chicken due to a  large visiting group requesting chicken momos, a delight somewhat similar to perogies.

On this particular night the Hummingbird Restaurant was catering a dinner for all the staff of the Norbulingka Institute, the Tibetan Government in Exile’s cultural workshop and retail facility in another town down the mountain. We could not order from the menu, we were told, but were invited to attend the dinner, as their guests, even though we were not staying at the hotel. This invitation was typical of Tibetan and Indian hospitality; both in the home and in hotels.

We sat a while before the food was ready, but it was well worth the wait. Everything at this restaurant is fresh and high quality and the chefs had outdone themselves on this occasion. First we were offered some birthday cake, and chose a small slice. (Cake first appears to be a Tibetan custom, as it happened again at the birthday dinner of our young friend.) The dinner on this evening consisted of appetizers, barbecued skewered fish and meats, then a hot buffet, followed by a dessert station consisting of mini cakes and puddings. Everything was delicious, and we particularly enjoyed the fish, not having eaten fish for several weeks.

During our time in McLeod Ganj we had the honour of visiting five Tibetan homes, more than usual, for mostly Tibetan meals. Our friend K cooked each of the three times we visited her and her husband, she would not take no for an answer. It didn’t matter if we had just eaten, we had to eat more! If K spoke English it would have made no difference; she just ignored my words and hand motions as if they were invisible!

Our final evening in Dharamshala, we went down the hill to Dr. D’s, for her daughter’s birthday dinner, this time Indian takeout, her choice. It was a perfect ending to our trip, dining with our closest friends in their small apartment where we had sat on many previous visits to the town.

The next morning we checked out of Pema Thang at 7:30 am and took a taxi downhill towards Kangra Airport. Near the back entrance to the temple I spied K and T on the road, ready to begin their circumambulation of the temple grounds, (clockwise waking around a sacred site), followed by their morning visit to the temple itself for worship, their first visit of the day. At my request our driver stopped the car, and more tashi deleks, (translated simply as “blessings and good luck”), and hugs were exchanged before we reluctantly climbed back inside the taxi.

Saying goodbye to our dear friends was hard. We spent many happy hours in Dr. D’s apartment over ten years and I have a snapshot of it in my memory. We will visit her and her family in their new home in Canada in a year or two. I took a picture of K & T at the door of their home so they will live on in my memory.

Now, after some weeks back home, I am beginning to realize how my journey with the Council of Grandmothers and the Net of Light, begun last spring, affected me during this very special time in Dharamshala. During my first two plus weeks there I cast the Net of Light, the Divine Light that holds and protects this planet and all beings on it, around the Dalai Lama’s temple repeatedly each day. Shortly after meeting His Holiness, I suddenly received the message that the net was now cast around the entire town, and that my work was completed.

We have visited this small town in the foothills of the Himalayas five times over ten years, and have developed many enduring friendships. What I will always remember about McLeod Ganj, Dharamshala, whether I return or not, is my comfort level there, how at home I feel. “It feels like a second home to me”, Don says.

Note: You can read Alma Anderson’s channelled messages about my lifetimes in the Dharamshala area in An Indian Sojourn.

Ellen

Ellen Besso is a former Life Coach & Counsellor & a Reiki Practitioner. She is the author of An Indian Sojourn: One woman’s spiritual experience of travel & volunteering, and Surviving Eldercare: Where their needs end & yours begin, both available through Amazon.

Next: We return to Udaipur, Rajasthan to visit our Indian friends.

 “I am a stranger to no one & no one is a stranger to me. Indeed I am a friend to all.              Guru Granth Sahib,  Sikh saying

Two weeks into our sojourn, we took a trip to the Golden Temple in Amritsar, with our Tibetan doctor friend and her daughter. It was now or never, we felt, as we had skipped the long drive to Amritsar on previous trips. We’d waited so long, in fact, that the road system had improved, and the timing of the trip was just five hours.

It goes without saying that it was not a particularly relaxing five hours, driving in India is unsettling at the best of times. The driving style is very different from what we’re accustomed to. The volume of traffic, congestion, plus mountain roads on the first leg of the trip mean that drivers weave in and out, tailgating and passing where we westerners would never consider doing so.

On clear, flat stretches, fairly uncommon, drivers speed to gain time. The drivers are competent and I no longer become anxious on the road, relaxing into the process, trusting that we will arrive safely.

Our drive to Amritsar was uneventful and we arrived at Mrs. Bhandari’s Guesthouse in the early afternoon. Amritsar, a small Indian city of just over one million people, is only 50 kilometres from Lahore, Pakistan, also in the state of the Punjab. Amritsar is a busy, dusty commercial centre, where drivers deliberately drive through red lights at all times, unless there is a police presence in evidence. This is exceptional even for India!

Because of the congestion, our driver advised us to have a meal and rest, then visit the temple once only, at dusk, the best time of day to see it.  We would not enjoy an early morning visit, he told us, as it’s chilly and foggy at that time of day .

Our first sighting of Mrs. Bhandari’s gave the impression of a dusty, out of date, dreary place. Why had our McLeod Ganj hotel sent us here, I wondered. The guesthouse, built in 1954, was situated in a former army cantonment, a military district where army units may be encamped for long periods of time. Originally the rooms were rented out to teachers, army captains and officers. Mrs. Bhandari died in 2006 at the age of 101 and one of her daughters now runs the place.

The rooms, in a row on the inner side of the property, beside a garden, were old fashioned and musty, but smelled fine after a good airing. We were treated to a fine meal of Indian food in a cozy private dining room in the main building, a large colonial style home. That was when we began to realize that Mrs. Bhandari’s was a hidden gem. The beautifully appointed, British style dining room was a throwback to another time, due to the British influence in India during the last century.

After our meal we wandered around the grounds, enjoying the flowers that had been painstakingly nurtured in the dry ground and the well cared for green grass, a challenge in the dry climate of India. Our young friend played on the swings and teeter totter with my partner. There was even a swimming pool on the grounds.

We had a tour of the main house, decorated in period style,  and the two kitchens, one for breakfast, where the yogurt and cheese was made, and one for other meals. The next morning we enjoyed a delicious breakfast before departing.

Later our driver let us out at a large commercial plaza, about a ten minute walk from the temple. Along our walk we saw hotels and many stores and street vendors, selling mostly souvenirs of the Golden Temple.

Guards at the temple entrance instructed us to cover our heads with small orange triangles unless we had a hat or head scarf with us, and to leave our footwear at the complementary shoe storage. We then walked through a symbolic foot bath and onto the grounds of the temple proper. Our Tibetan friend noted that no one was searched before entering the grounds of the temple complex, quite different from the Dalai Lama’s temple.

The Harmandir Sahib or Hari Mandir, officially renamed in 2005, is commonly known as The Golden Temple, and is the holiest shrine in Sikhism, a major pilgrimage destination for Sikhs from all over the world and a tourist attraction. Construction began in 1574 on land donated by the Mughal emperor Akbar.

The temple is gold-plated, with copper cupolas and white marble walls encrusted with precious stones in floral patterns. Verses from the Granth Sahib (the Sikh holy book) decorate the inside and outside. In the early 19th century, 100 kilograms of gold were applied to the lotus-shaped dome and the decorative marble was added. It was a majestic sight to behold.

The Golden Temple itself is open to everyone, as are all Sikh temples. No pictures can be taken inside it. It is said to be the most spiritual place in India. It was almost twilight when we entered the complex, the ideal time to be there, with the lights coming on and a bit of fog in the air. It was both magical and spiritual, deeply peaceful yet also powerful.

The entire complex had an impact, the scene felt quite other worldly to me, but the Golden Temple itself enthralled us. The temple lies in the centre of a sacred pond, the Amrit Sarovar, or Pool of Nectar, surrounded by the other temples and the wide marble walkways. It is reached by crossing the Guru`s Bridge, symbolizing the journey of the soul after death.

We were clearly meant to visit the inside the temple, as, along with a couple hundred other folks, we inched along the Guru’s Bridge for only twenty minutes before reaching the doorway.

The male chanters sat beneath a jewel studded canopy in the centre of the temple, along with a handful of other people, including women. Sikh visitors pay their respects by touching their foreheads to the temple floor and walls. I stood with my hands together and instantly dropped down into a deep meditative state, lifted up by the spiritual energy.

We were aware that chanters sang the scriptures from the Holy Book from four a.m. until ten p.m. in the Golden Temple, and the audio could be heard all round the complex, but we did not realize until later that the activities inside were televised throughout India for Sikh viewers.

Afterwards we moved inside one of the buildings, each took a divided thali tray, then sat on the floor of a large dining hall, or langar. The kitchen serves two halls, with a total capacity of 5,000 people. About 50,000 people are served on an average day; on religious holidays up to 100,000 eat in the halls. Dal is cooked in enormous vats, each holding up to 700 kilograms.

Male volunteers walked around the room offering everyone curd, (yogurt), dal, (split peas or lentils), chick peas in sauce and roti, (bread). We did not receive vegetables or dessert, as is often the case, I read, but we were very happy with what was offered. There was no fee for the food, although donations are accepted.

It was a privilege to spend time at the Golden Temple complex. We felt very welcome and there was no pressured to buy anything, adding to the tranquility. The temple staff, serving us food and gently correcting us when we put our feet in the sacred lake, truly lived up to Guru Granth Sahib’s motto of friendship with all. We spent only a couple of hours there but the time stretched. Kyros, or sacred time was at play.

Ellen

Copryright Ellen Besso 2018

Ellen Besso is a former Life Coach & Counsellor & a Reiki Practitioner. She is the author of An Indian Sojourn: One woman’s spiritual experience of travel & volunteering, and Surviving Eldercare: Where their needs end & yours begin, both available through Amazon.

Next Time: Audience with His Holiness the Dalai Lama