Two things about Jordan have surprised me:

1. Jordan is cold in February
2. Jordan is expensive

The cold was the most surprising. Even though it is winter, I figured winter in the desert is still hot. I had looked at weather reports for Egypt and expected Jordan to be as hot as Egypt this time of year. I’m wearing my hiking boots, socks, long sleeve shirt and my inner jacket here—even during the day. In Bangalore I seriously considered throwing away my “heavy weight” pants and mailing my coat and boots home. I’m glad I didn’t.

I arrived in the small town of Madaba by bus from Amman yesterday and set about looking for groups to visit the surrounding sites. But, because it is off-season, the only people here are in tour groups or have rented cars. Luckily, an American couple showed up last night and we agreed to take a taxi to The Dead Sea and Mount Nebo today.

After eating breakfast (boiled egg, breda and tea) in my hotel owner’s house upstairs we hopped into Saleem’s car and were at Mt. Nebo in notime. Jordan’s valleys are surprisingly green and the view was pretty. Unfortunately, we didn’t get the full effect—it was too cloudy to see “the promised land” like Moses did. But I did a cartwheel and watched a group of Japanese tourists glance at the church’s ancient mosaics before pouncing on the postcard display.

These mosaics were quite good, including hunting scenes with ostriches, a giraffe and a lion. I thought they were as good as the mosaics I saw in Madaba itself, which is what the town is known for.

We hurried back into the car for the downhill ride to the sea. This ride was longer and we had to stop for herders crossing the road with sheep. There are about three military checkpoints along the road but we were waved by all but one. Saleem parked at Amman Beach, which costs 5 Dinar a head but has showers and other facilities. I didn’t want to get back into the car without washing off first.

I decided to do the Jordanian thing and swim in my clothing. I don’t think the locals are ready to see my chest in a bikini. We left our bags by the edge of the water and wandered in, walking on sharp rocks and then even sharper solidified salt. Saleem instructed us “slowly, slowly” and I sank back into the water without a splash.

The sensation is hard to describe. I was able to float on my back and front and even stand in the water without my feet touching. If this is what the Bible meant when Jesus walked on water he totally cheated! I could barely make out the Israeli side through the haze and was content to flat around and twist around in strange but entertaining barrel rolls. At one point a black chopper flew by twenty feet above and the locals told us it was Americans.

While we looked for mud a girl ten feet away started splashing frantically. Her friends saw me and pointed so I laughed and swam over to the “drowning” girl. She must have fallen in while her friends stood by the shore. Her scarf was covering her face as she twisted and turned, splashing her arms. I yelled “put your feet down!” but she didn’t speak English. Finally I reached her and pulled her up (man, I’m strong) and carried her over to her friends just as the lifeguard arrived. Yes, there are lifeguards at a sea that is too salty to actually drown in. She coughed and blew snot and cried while I swam away, unthanked but slightly amused. I’m a terrible swimmer so the idea of me saving someone from drowning is pretty funny.

Saleem waded out into the depths and found some mud for us and took a lot of pleasure in rubbing it over my arms and face before a policeman took him aside. He didn’t pay the enterance fee (1 Dinar for locals). After ten minutes drying off we washed the mud off, avoiding our eyes, and then took showers while being stared at by teenage girls. After this long on the road I don’t always appreciate the history or significance of a place as much as I should, but I still had a great time.

After three days in transit from Bangalore, including a 24-hour train ride, a 1am airport appearance and a brief layover in Kuwait, I have finally arrived in Jordan. More importantly, I got out of India.

I don’t think I’ve talked much about my frustrations in India here, because when I was so angry I had to clench my fists at my side not to hit someone I was in no shape to be composing blog posts. India is not a hard country to travel in. In fact, it was one of the easiest I’ve been to. Most people speak English, there’s a comprehensive transportation system and it’s inexpensive. But the every day hassles I had to deal with wore me down.

After the first month of “rickshaw madams” and “your countries” I was becoming violent. Even though I’ve been to countries where everyone wants to know where you’re from (Uzbekistan comes to mind), they didn’t continue to talk to you and tell you everything they think about anything without letting you speak. When I did speak or beg off I was usally told I was wrong or yelled at for not being interested in the locals and so on.

More than that, I can’t stand being told what to do. Generally, when someone gives me unsolicited advice (”sit down, go there, eat this”) I automatically want to do the opposite. This lead to many situations in which I got into an argument with an Indian man because I wouldn’t sit down. Sometimes I would be walking straight down a street and a man would come up and point the way I was walking and say “yes, that way.” I would have to find some side street to turn off of just to prove him wrong!

Add to that horribly greasy and/or spicy food, pollution and a population that apparently can not tell the truth and I was out. If I had left after the first month I think I could still look back fondly of the sites I saw and the few nice people I met. Even though the South was much more hassle-free I still got into a physical alteration with a drunk rickshaw driver in Fort Chochin and yelled at people in Bangalore.

In my mind I kept hearing those people who say “you’ll either love India or you’ll hate it.” I struggled with that statement because I didn’t hate India and I didn’t love India. Mostly I was just undwhelmed and dissapointed by it. In the end it’s just better for both me and India that we’ve parted ways.

Jordan is a breath of “fresh” air compared to India and I’m excited to be in a country smaller than the state of Virginia with plenty of really old, really important sites—all more or less on the way to Egypt. I’ve already bought my red and white checkered head scarf and Iraqi Dinar with Saddam’s picture on it. For lunch today I had a grilled chicken wrap with avacado, salsa and fresh sour cream. Sure, it cost more than my hotel room but it wasn’t Paneer Butter Masala.

When I arrived at 3pm yesterday I immediately went to sleep and didn’t wake up until 6 the next morning. The hotel staff later admitted that they were worried about me, that something was wrong, but they soon realized I just had to sleep India off.

After a few more days at the ashram where we got as far as the headstand asana (position), I was ready to leave. Staying would have been good for me, sure, but the possibility of squeezing in a few more towns before heading back to Mumbai for my flight was too enticing. I had to check out of the ashram at 11am and three hours later I was on Kovalam Beach eating spaghetti.

The beach was underwhelming and I walked around, trying to find a book exchange, until it was time to catch the bus back to Trivandrum for my 8:20 train to Madurai. It was a hard travel night for me because my train arrived in Madurai at 5am, where I had to wait for another train to Trichy, my final destination. I found a Diet Coke as a stall in the station and took it as a sign that taking the two trains was a better idea than the one direct train that arrives at 2:30am.

In Trichy I checked my bag at the station cloak room and hopped around buses all day, seeing another colorfully painted temple, similar to the more famous temple in Madurai. I was beat by 3:30 and caught the next train to Thanjavur, another Tamil Nadu temple town off the main train line. Buses are much more frequent for these kind of trips but because my bag was checked at the train station and the hotels in Thanjavur were next to the train station it made sense to stick to the slow and steady trains.

Thanjavur reminds me a little bit of my favorite town in Myanmar, Monywa. It has a lot of Art Deco-style cement buildings from the 1930’s - 50’s and the Dravidian temple architecture of Tamil Nadu is similar in garishness to the circus-like temple that I loved to much in Monywa. Granted, Thanjavur is a much busier town and smells a lot more of urine, but I’m always a little happy to see similarities in the cultures I visit.

This morning I took the liberty to sleep in and then watch The Lost World: Jurassic Park on cable before heading out into town. Traveling during the night and heading straight out to sight see really wore me down. And I also think that the ashram food messed me up a bit. Since I’ve left I’ve felt hungry but when I eat I’m never satisfied. At the ashram I got to the point where I was never hungry, but the food wasn’t very appealing. Now, everything is extra-spicy because the ashram diet excluded anything with taste, including salt. I barely touched my lunch, much to the dismay of the kind Singaporean woman who sat at my table with her local husband. She exclaimed “but where will you eat now?” as if I was going to go and sit down for a second meal.

Because it was late and temples shut down during the middle of the day I headed straight for the palace, which turned out to be less palatial than I expected. I think the princely towns of Rajasthan really spoiled me in that regard. However, one of the sites had a nice colorfully painted hall with a large mirror-covered area for the king.

Today was overcast and a nice temperature without the sun beating down. Locals are shivering and some are even wearing knitted hats and ski masks. It’s only 75 degrees! With the nice temperature I was able to walk out to Brihadisvara Temple, which is one of the more famous “World Heritage listed” temples in the area. Even so, because the town is off the main rail line I didn’t see too many foreign tourists and had a good time receiving my third elephant blessing since I’ve been in India. Check out the video:

Thanjavur Elephant Blessing from Megan Kearney on Vimeo.

This temple isn’t painted at all, which was a nice break from the typical Tamil Nadu temple scene. After walking through two large gates a platform holding a massive bull statue sits in the middle of the stone and grass enclosure. I followed the locals around it’s perimeter, receiving a blessing of white powder on my forehead from the priest camped out in front of the bull’s head. I had attracted a lot of attention by now and posed for photos with a group of teenage girls and took photos on request from a group of older women.

Two or three school group filled into the are wearing matching uniforms and snapping sneaky photos of my from the side. Their teachers were Roman Catholic nuns who I had a nice talk with. The place was hopping with Indians pushing through the main temple to place candles in front of the Shiva lingam and others relaxing on the grass along the outside wall.

I was in a good mood and answered all the same questions I get asked every day and people seemed to appreciate the chance to talk to a foreigner. Most of the foreigners I saw were in groups, including one Japanese group who looked like it was attacking the place with it’s cameras.

At the end of the day, I still found the temple in Madurai much more fascinating than Thanjavur’s, but this was a relaxed place to visit with nice people and no hassle. I will be moving on tomorrow morning to Pondicherry after a failed attempt to buy a train ticket to Chennai, where I would have connected to Mallapuram to see some rock carvings in the seaside cliffs. This means I will have to bus-it all the way to Bangalore, where I will spend a few days getting my Western tastes satisfied before heading by train to Bombay and my flight to Jordan.

Many people come to India to experience it’s spiritual side, either Hindu or Buddhist, meditation or yoga. I thought this trip was the perfect opportunity to take a crash course in yoga from the masters. After a few failed attempts to reserve a spot I finally arrived in Sivananda Ashram on the 31st. It’s a huge organization based in Canada and most of the participants are Westerners. When I arrived a Teachers Training Course was just finishing up and the complex was overloaded with people.

I’m paying 450 rupees to stay in a dorm bed, eat vegetarian food and receive yoga instruction. Unfortunately, I am also required to “participate in ashram life” which includes a 5:20am wake-up, lectures and Hindu chanting. Some of the ceremonies are nice but after hearing the same chants twice a day I’m starting to crack.

Each day the schedule is about the same:

• 5:20: Wake-up

• 6:00: Satsang (meditation and chanting)
• 7:30: Tea
• 8:00: Yoga
• 10:00: Meal
• 11:00: Lecture
• 12:30: Karma yoga (chores)
• 1:30: Tea
• 2:00: Optional coaching class
• 3:30: Yoga
• 6:00: Meal
• 8:00: Satsang
• 10:30: Lights out

The TTC Course includes approximately 150 students, all of whom graduated just before I left for The Super Bowl. They were a tight knit group of people, with many cliques and snobbish attitudes toward us newcomers so I hope most have left by the time I get back to the ashram tonight. As the days progressed the beginners class seemed to swell and we often had more then 60 people—twice as many for my tastes. We all ate together in silence and attended Satsang together, although obviously the students who had been here one month were much more into the Hindu chants than the beginners. Personally, I thought they were pretty but very repetitive.

I met an equally cynical American couple from Chicago whom I could talk to. We discussed Taco Bell and other American things—much to the horror of our vegetarian classmates. They only lasted as long as The Super Bowl and I will be going back tonight to spend a few more days on yoga. The food is not ideal, and the other day were were served “rice with water.” But despite the early mornings, rules, bad food and earthy students, the yoga is great and we have been treated to night walks, a martial arts performance and a special full moon puja ceremony.

To get a flavor for Satsang I’ve snuck a few videos for you:

Ashram Satsang from Megan Kearney on Vimeo.

More Satsang in India from Megan Kearney on Vimeo.

I’m on day three in the Ashram. The yoga is still pretty basic but good. We wake up at 5:20 and don’t eat until after 10am, that was quite hard to get used to. My stomach was grumbling all of day one and two. It’s hard to meditate, listen to chants and do two hours of yoga on an empty stomach.

Luckily, on the bus here I met two other travelers from Chicago and we immediately began planning our escape for The Super Bowl. It turns out we didn’t have to invest in black clothes because the swami gave me a note allowing me to leave. It was hard to bring myself to tell a swami the reason, but he was okay with it.

I only get 15 minutes online so you’ll have to wait until I get for my vacation from yoga vacation to hear more. I’m heading into Trivandrum on the 4th.