What Day Is It?

Dubai International Airport

Arriving in Dubai 1.5 hours ahead of schedule due to a strong tailwind, I enjoyed only 13 hours in the air instead of 14.5, eating 3  traditional Indian meals, playing Solitaire (high scorer, Thank You), Who Wants To Be A Millionaire (I suck),  and sleeping. Dubai has an ultra-modern international airport, matching the surrounding landscape of skyscrapers seen flying into the city. Apparently an up-and-coming desired tourist destination with white sand beaches, numerous golf courses, 5-star hotels and various cuisine choices. The city breathes money and has an arrogance that can be felt in the energy at the airport. Dubai was described to me as a city of massive steel and glass buildings with little culture and lacking soul compared to Delhi, an ancient city with amazing history, a lovely culture and exceptional soul. 

Traveler's Waiting for the Delhi Flight

The layover was about 4 hours, allowing my biorhythms to adjust. Boarding the plane for Delhi I was delighted to hear it would be only 2.5 hours, rather than the 8 hours I had anticipated. Rather than doing any research, I approach travel more from an intuitive place allowing my body to simply move with the flow in a general direction, without knowing or caring about the details—a practice that would drive many people crazy, but for me it simply works. I never know if I’m headed north, south, east or west, what time it is (unless I have a plane to catch), where the next meal will be, or how long it will take to get there. I allow things to unfold naturally by getting out of my own way. One thing true in west culture is we feel like we must control everything, this is how we usually approach life. Stepping away from that concept is liberating and allows for a more interesting journey into another culture. The key word is to Breathe, taking it all in as it comes. I exchanged $100 for 5000 rupees in Dubai. My cab ride was 500 plus 150 airport fee, and my room was 2000. I think all of that is less than $50. Traveling abroad with alternative money (not facts) that looks and feels like play money, makes spending it easy.  

French Wine

Another meal of chicken curry with wine (last glass for a month) before once again falling straight asleep, sitting upright,  even before coffee was served. How embarrassing, really, maybe my mouth was gapping open or worse yet, maybe I was snoring.  Somewhere in the last 24 hours I have developed a stuffy nose and sinus issues. The human condition, we’ve all been there. And why should any of these worries really matter. They don’t.

Arriving in Delhi my instructions were to meet the La Sapphire Hotel car at Pillar #17 outside baggage claim, confirmed by email from Yog Peeth, the school in Rishikesh. I noticed on the confirmation that the driver would be there promptly when the plane landed. How, I wondered, would that work? Finding baggage claim in the enormous foreign airport and clearing customs with my E-Visa proved to take another hour.  Arriving outside, I was lost in a sea of people waiting for transportation,  and it was apparent that finding my ride was going to be a challenge. I saw a couple of Indian guys in a car waiting, so I approached them thinking maybe they were it. Nada, these locals were here to pick up a few blind cricket players for an international event in Delhi. They did offer to call my hotel and were told the driver was on his way, arriving in 5 minutes. They also invited me to the event.

The cricket organizers were happy to share conversation with me. One guy had retired from the State after 25-years because he wanted to devote his time to helping the handicap—finding this work more rewarding and fulfilling than working for the State. After twenty-minutes, I was beginning to wonder if the cab would ever come. My new friend reminded me not to stress about my ride, to remember yoga and relaxation (the reason I am here), and that this was India time and the hotel driver would arrive soon—meaning. . .  whenever. I was merely exhausted and a bit rummy from the time difference. And in case you are wondering. Yes, he did want to talk about the Orange one, and the bad decisions being made in America—apparently a lot had happened in the last 24 hours while I was flying. I was not up to the challenge, all I wanted was a bed of my own. 

He made another call to the driver on speaker phone and all I heard was: “I’m coming, I’m coming, in 5 minutes.” I still wasn’t sure how he would find me. A few more minutes pass, and at last I see a man carrying a sign that said: “La Sapphire Hotel, Koren Roush,” close enough. He grabbed my bag and we began running across 6 lanes of traffic to find his driver, jutting in and out to avoid getting smashed. As tired as my body felt, this provided the rush of adrenaline needed to get moving. It’s a good thing because I was about to experience my first cab ride in India, and oh what a ride it was! The drivers here make New York cabbies look like novices in comparison. Driving on the left, there is no consideration of the lines in the highway, these guys are all over the road, weaving in and out, blowing horns and just when you think they are going to crash into the bus in front, jerking the wheel to the outside and squeezing through three other cars where no lane exists. Thank goodness for small cars. And don’t forget the people on the road walking, the carts being pulled by the sacred cows, bicycles, trucks, tractors, dogs and just about any other thing with wheels on the freeway, including mopeds. It was 10:35 PM in Delhi, I cannot imagine what driving must be like at rush hour. 

Arriving at the hotel my girlfriend’s words echoed in my head. Do NOT drink the water, only bottled water—that means in the shower keep your mouth shut, and brush your teeth with the water in the bottle. She also asked me if I had toilet paper. Apparently there is little provided so it is a good idea to take wads of it in case you need it, and you will—especially if you are traveling across country. She also gave me two Imodiums in case of a sudden attack of the dreaded diarrhea so common to westerners. This is also true in Mexico and Thailand, other places where water is a concern. Fortunately I have not had the experience, and don’t intend to start in India. 

La Sapphire Hotel looked to be in the red light area of the city, a most interesting place if only I had energy to hit the streets and photograph. This budget room was in typical Indian fashion, minimalistic with the bare essentials provided with the exception of—you guessed it—toilet paper. Fortunately I had wadded some up in the Seattle airport and placed in my carry-on. Otherwise I would have been up shit creek without paper. In India there is a hose attached to the toilet for spraying yourself off instead of wiping, but the water coming out of that hose is frigid! I know, way TMI but that’s how it’s done here. BTW, on a side note, I have read that the Buddhist monks start their day with an ice-cold shower. That’s one way to wake up. Can you imagine?

With only a 30-day visa visiting the city will have to wait until next time. I leave at 6:00 AM in the morning for yet another adventure in a cab. This time it will be a 7-hour ride to Rishikesh to the Ashram that will be home for the next month. I'm assuming the pace with be more leisurely when we get out of Delhi. The energy and people are so delightfully appealing in this lovely country. I was able to stretch out in my hotel bed after many hours of travel. Quickly falling asleep only to be awaken by people laughing and enjoying life, after all it is Saturday night. I remember my first few nights in Mexico when people would dance and laugh late into the night on weekends. It doesn’t bother me, it makes me smile. I am able to roll over and return to my dreams that often incorporate the festive sounds surrounding me.  

On to Rishikesh tomorrow morning at 6 AM, which could mean 6:30 or 7:00, but who really cares? I'm on India time.

I Am Grateful

Arriving in Seattle at 6 AM after a restful sleep, albeit sitting up, I manage to get to the international terminal and easily finding S-16 gate, Emirates flight 0228 to Dubai. Checking in with my carry-on bag that now must be checked through because the weight allowance has dropped to 20 pounds for safety reasons. Freed of the bag that I was reluctant to check all the way to Delhi, I have no choice but to send it through. I can now move with ease toting only a leather satchel, a camera bag and my computer—two of which must be combined to board the international flight that allows only two carry-ons. 

I produce my Indian visa, my passport and get my boarding pass. Looking down at the seat assignment it was not surprising to see seat #44. The number 4 and multiples of 4 have always been my lucky number. I see them everywhere and have actually incorporated variations into my art. Another positive affirmation from the Universe, that yes, I am on the path—a path especially selected for me in this life. A warm fuzzy feeling embraces me as I realize just how blessed I am to have this opportunity. 

I board the plane, find my seat, plug-in the Mac and iPhone and settle back for the 14-hour flight to another world. The overhead music ‘leaving on a jet plane’ takes me briefly back to the 70’s, another lifetime ago. Emirates is a comfortable airline, some would say luxurious—the ones that can afford the first class pods where a shower and bed are available. Economy class for this girl, but still a good meal of spicy dal with mushrooms and cashews, raspberry cheesecake, complimentary wine, a blanket and pillow, and two seats to stretch out for the big sleep across the pond. Perfect! Having short legs sometimes has some advantages. 

Feeling mucho gratitude for this amazing journey!

 

Practicing Patience, On A Few Dollars Less

And so it was. . . a blonde with a chronic wanderlust spirit was leaving normal for an incredible month-long yoga adventure in India. A flight was booked out of Homer to connect with an Alaska flight to Seattle, and an early morning Emirates connection to Dubai and then another to Delhi. Total flight time approximately 22 hours. Arriving at 8:30 PM, 14.5 hours ahead of Alaska time, an overnight stay at the Sapphire Hotel in Delhi with an airport pick-up was arranged. The following morning a taxi would arrive at 6 AM for a lengthy 7-hour car ride to the Ashram in Rishikesh—a village at the base of the Himalayas near the mighty Ganges. 

Brody, Guinness, RockDog, DoDog, Bunny & AnnBanan

Weather in Alaska can be a little iffy this time of year with fog, winds and freezing rain. Multiple calls were made to the outgoing Homer airline to check on flight status—an assurance that all systems were set to GO! Saying goodbye to my roommates is always the hardest. Five cocker spaniels and a basset hound look up mournfully as the suitcase closes and they know I’m leaving, alone. 

Arriving at the Homer Airport a woman is standing out front, shaking her head as she catches my eye through the car window. The taxi pulls up and I unload my small bag, camera and leather satchel only to be confronted with the news—all flights are canceled. I hear the words coming from her lips in disbelief. “But, but, but I called and they said,”. . . Knowing this is the last flight out of my town for the night, I obviously will miss my connecting flights around the world. Sure enough the agent confirms because of runway ice, all flights are canceled. The mind says: everything is as it should be at this moment in time, while the body takes in a long inhale followed by an even longer exhale. Back to my nest, back to normal, back to my sweet, cuddly dogs and the security of my bed—to begin the rebooking process with a glass of cabernet in hand.

A challenge, at best—first call was to Alaska Airlines, the originating leg of the international journey. Apparently Emirates had control of the ticket since it had been booked online with a travel agency. Alaska advised me to call the agency. In doing so it was quickly noted that since the flight from Homer was booked as a separate ticket, they would not recognize the weather delay. I would have to pay to rebook the flight for the next evening. Oh and by the way, there are no seats available on the flight tomorrow or the next day, said the less-than-helpful ticket agent. I have one extra day built into the itinerary to get to Rishikesh before the yoga training begins. I cannot be late, so if I am unable to get the next flight tomorrow evening all bets are off. The entire adventure will have to be cancelled. Distraught and getting little assistance from the ticket agent, I called Emirates direct. 

Again because this flight was booked online, Emirates could only tell me there was indeed available seats on the flight for the next night, but I had to book it through the original agency. They were not authorized to do so. Time was a factor because the current flight had to be canceled and rebooked before the plane departed, otherwise. . . well, I would lose the ticket and the dollars already invested. Back to the travel agency. . .

This time a helpful young man at the travel agency booked the exact same flight for the following evening. . . for $580. Oh well, it’s only money and what’s a girl to do? Suck it up and get out the credit card. Determined to arrive in Anchorage to make this flight, whether it be by plane, boat, car or horse, one way or another I would be there. Weather remained iffy the following morning and the first flight was canceled out of Homer; followed closely by the second one being delayed. Rather than wait around for the evening flight—a risk I could not afford to take—my  flight was rebooked for late afternoon. . . meaning? A 9-hour wait in Anchorage prior to the 22-hour international journey. 

There were times during the wait in Anchorage that all I wanted to do was go home, crawl back under the covers of my comfy bed with all six doggies around me. It became a fantasy during the late night wait. But, in reality that was not an option. I needed to push myself outside that comfort zone, jump off that cliff where I intuitively know a safety net is waiting to catch me. I want to be here, there and everywhere, at once; experiencing it all. To embrace other cultures, other ways of thinking, seeing, feeling, tasting, hearing, smelling, always fills my soul with wonder—opening up new horizons; forcing me to grow beyond who I am today. Travel reminds me that we are all so different, yet somehow still the same; we are Energy moving together as one in the Universe. Spiritual growth excites yet intimidates me, taking me out of the routine I know best into uncharted territory. Feeling fear and exhilaration venturing out into the unknown, alone. This experience is something I have to do for my body, mind and spirit. This much I know to be true.

Flight 82 to Seattle left at 1:50 AM and as soon as lights went out and we were moving down the runway, this girl passed out on a packed flight with an aisle seat. The journey has finally begun . . . with only a few dollars less.  Namasté

“Life is an open book. Those who don’t travel read only one page.” 

—unknown

And so it goes. . .

On a long winter night in Alaska , a blonde dogsitter extraordinaire, along with six resident canines and two visiting sheep dogs, were sleeping soundly in the loft of a cottage called Footprints, WHEN . . .

they were awaken by the sound of a loud, thunderous roar in the night, followed by a 7-dog-barking serenade. The blonde struggled to get out from under the cozy quilt, just as the floor began moving up and down like a wave. The dogs were prancing and dancing across the floor, and she remembers thinking they were obviously drunk. As she placed her feet over the mile-high bed, an incredible force pushed her back, a sign from the Universe to stay put. Pictures began swaying on the wall, and things went crashing to the floor. She sat rooted in space, in a daze, wondering when, but more importantly, IF, it would ever stop. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the waving motion began to ebb, and the dark night was once again still. Only the snoring sound of an oblivious Billy Idol, could be heard in the house. The blonde and seven other dogs assumed their previous positions, and fell immediately back to sleep.

She awoke the next morning wondering if it had been a dream . . .

Living in Alaska, where earthquakes are a normal occurrence, we are often humbled by the power of nature. Mother Nature has once again jolted us back into an awareness of the infinite force. We are connected to the force; we are connected to each other. We are the Force.

Vacation Epilogue - Where Have All the Beaches Gone?

And so it was. . .

A blond silly woman with her trusted service dog RockDog, got up before dawn to arrive at SeaTac Airport for the flight back to Alaska. But first, a 25-year old RV called Odie, must be stowed in a friend's secured yard to await our return in the fall. We made the 40-minute drive to West Seattle in spitting rain, with the windshield wipers running double-time. Unlocking the combination cable, pulling back the sliding metal fence, and driving diagonally into the area was the first of many challenges in the wee morning hours. I was jumping in and out of Odie, while backing up or pulling forward, to see just how many inches were available in any one direction to avoid smashing into the wall, the fence, the boat or the support post. The rain continued to blow, sideways.

All 21-feet of Odie had to bump and grind a few inches at a time, eventually getting into a position to pull forward, slipping into a narrow stall in the carport. With limited space on either side, we had to suck it up to squeeze out the door. The whole process took over an hour. Two light covers were knocked off, and Odie suffered a nasty gouge when backed into a basketball hoop. Who looks up, when the obvious obstacles are eye level? One of the support beams holding up the carport was also bumped, followed by visions of the entire structure crashing down on us. Obviously this was a two-person job, but no one was available at 6 a.m. A practice run might have been a good idea.

That said, we arrived at the airport with two hours to relax before leaving for Anchorage. What started out as an easy check-in, quickly went south without warning. Imagine my surprise, WHEN . . .

A representative from Alaska Airlines called my cell while I was having coffee at Seattle's Best, next to the departing gate. After asking me where I was, he requested meeting him in the corridor ASAP, where he then proceeded to escort me out of the secured area. He couldn't explain why I was being marched into the TSA office, where six agents AND an Alaska Airlines executive began interrogating me. 

So, my old computer is in my checked bag. The battery has exploded out of the case but it stills runs the computer. I bought an external hard drive and a new computer from a Seattle Apple Store, to transfer all my data before it dies for good. TSA had removed the swollen battery and are holding it in front of me, eying me suspiciously. RockDog is in a down-stay position while the only female agent there oooohs and aaaahs over him. After answering multiple questions, and showing them the NEW computer in my carry-on, they decided that maybe I was okay, and not the terrorist they first suspected. BUT still, the battery had to go. Will the ancient laptop ever startup again? It was tenuous at best, but the deformed battery is now history. Maybe I have just witnessed the actual death, or murder, of my first beloved Mac Book.

TSA is now ready to repack my bag in time to make the flight. I wish them luck in doing so because it was bulging, tight as a pregnant cow, when they decided to open it. Eliminating a computer battery would do little to help with space. But, not my monkeys or my circus.

After releasing me, I had to do the whole security thing again, and for the first time ever, RockDog's collar set off the alarm—3 times!  By dismantling his collar along with the service harness, and carrying him through the scanner, we were finally able to pass through security for the second time. Thank goodness we were still TSA pre-approved so undressing at the scanner was not required. 

We arrived at the gate for pre-boarding, breezed onto the plane, and fell into 26F. RockDog went straight to sleep. We got up very early to have all this fun. In hindsight, what started out as a nightmare turned into a hilarious comedy show. I only hope our bag arrives in Anchorage with us. 

Touching down at Ted Stevens Airport I hear the familiar sound of a text message arriving. My friend in Seattle, where I stowed Odie, asked: “Did you go in the house?” I had the pass code for the garage so I could drop the keys on the work bench. Knowing the airport was still an hour away,

"I used the bathroom next to the garage (definitely in the house) for a quick pee," I explained.
“Did you hear an alarm,” she replied?
"When I sat down on the pot, I did hear a faint beeping but thought it was the garage door I had left open in my haste to take a whiz," I said.

But apparently. . . 

It was the burglar alarm causing her to get a call from the West Seattle police. Meanwhile her friend arrived, heard the alarm and with a drawn pistol, went from room to room looking for the culprit. And then, the police arrived. It’s a good thing we were out of there or TSA would have been the least of our worries. RockDog and I could have been in the back of a black and white cruiser trying to explain ourselves. . . . .

All the while wondering: Where have all the beaches gone?

The Adventure North in Dora the Explorer - The Final Chapter

Tuesday, Day 17.

Happy to be home smile :) 

A blonde wanderlust with the pack of amazing canines has returned to a cottage called Footprints in Homer, Alaska. Day 17, the final leg of the trip is short with only 220 miles added to Dora’s odometer. The dogs barely had enough time to settle in for their mid-morning nap when we pulled into our snow-crunchy, yet somewhat melted, driveway.

We were not expected home until 3:00 PM so we meandered around Anchorage for the better part of the morning having coffee at Kaladi Brothers on Brayton Drive and catching up on emails and writings. Gas is needed for Dora and it is nice to see the prices have decreased dramatically from what we have grown accustomed to in just four short days – from $7/gallon to $3.89!

View from the Couch

Lunch sounds like a good plan before hitting the road and one of my favorite burger joints is just up the road – the Arctic Roadrunner! They have been in business for 50+ years and offer Cheeseburgers beyond belief. Since it appears beef is once again okay with my system I order one for the road, fries and of course a Diet Coke. The aroma in Dora wakes the dogs and they assume the position of begging for a scrap, or at least a fry. The sun is shining and the open road is calling us home. One of the most scenic rides in the Universe is ahead.

I reflect on our time driving from Hendersonville, NC to Homer, Alaska and am grateful for the amazing adventure, albeit longer than anticipated. The Universe is telling me that this particular trip is probably best on the back burner for a few years, maybe even forever. I have counted these miles off at least nineteen times over the past 25 years, and feel like that is more than enough for one lifetime. An airplane ride to Seattle with a VW waiting for us sounds like a more relaxing, economical plan for the future.

the view

As we drop over Baycrest Hill I am once again in awe of the sheer beauty of the landscape that is so embedded in my soul. The blue/green waters of Kachemak Bay with the snow-capped mountains jutting out of the water, is breathtaking. I am blessed to live in this unique community. Although I complain about the long winters, the snow, and the darkness in this captivating place, I can’t stay away. Like the womb Homer has sucked me in and swallowed me up. I am safe here and leaving permanently is not possible. Homer is Home and no matter where I travel or how long I stay, she is always here waiting for me with open arms.

Footprints with VeVe in Foreground Snowpile

It’s perfect to be Home for a time. We are greeted by Gabby, a Belgium Terrier Puppy; Sugar, a French Bulldog Puppy; and Otis, a Boston Terrier that is happy to not be in Boston at the moment. The cottage is immaculate and fresh lilies adorn the table. We don’t have to do anything more today but soak it up and relax. Dora is snoozing in the driveway and the dogs and I are thinking about a nap by the woodstove where the sun is streaming in the windows.

Welcome Home Lilies!

The Journey North in Dora the Explorer has come to a peaceful end. We are here until the wanderlust once again takes over and leads us to another foreign place. I have accepted this life in motion. Whatever and whyever it is - this need to be moving, experiencing, and questioning, it’s okay. I am happy to go with the flow of my destiny as long as my four-legged friends are with me on the journey.

Namasté

The Adventure North in Dora the Explorer

Saturday, Sunday & Monday, Day 14, 15 & 16

DoDog rests her head on BunBun's butt

For the next two days we are content to rest with the family and spend some time in a real house, outside the van. Dora is ready to be off the road as well. The sun is shining and the snow is melting. Saturday is a glorious, laid back day of doing anything that does not involve getting in a car, like watching movies and eating nachos with a Corona light, something that was not possible last night!

Sunday is another beautiful, sunny day and the dogs enjoy a long walk through the neighborhood. I meet my bunkmate from the Unbelizeable Sailing Excursion for martinis and lunch at the Trout House. Something didn’t set well with my tummy, and it wasn’t the gin!  So, I spent the rest of the afternoon napping in hopes of not throwing up. It didn’t work - after three hours of sleep it was inevitable so I made it happen. After that I felt so much better it was euphoric! Ever since I did the vegan diet for a few weeks, eating beef is difficult. I keep thinking the French Dip Sandwich is what did me in, and I’m suppose to have a filet tomorrow night. That’s a big maybe at the moment.

Monday, Monday is the day to take care of some Anchorage business and meet a friend for dinner at the Club Paris, for the best steak in Alaska along with their famous Bloody Mary’s. It feels so good to be back in the usual foodie routine of eating and drinking life.  I told her my stomach couldn’t handle the spicy Mary’s and probably not the steak either. I might opt for seafood instead. After a Glenlevit on the rocks the words automatically flowed out of my mouth: “I’ll have the petite filet injected with blue cheese, a baked potato, and a salad with blue cheese dressing, please.” I cannot imagine going to the Club Paris and NOT ordering their famous filet. I will eat it slowly, chewing it thoroughly and hope it does not upset my stomach and have another Glenlevit to wash it down. As usual the steak was so tender you could actually cut it with a fork. Scrumptious! I’ve never had a better steak anywhere. I only eat half of the 8 oz. petite portion deciding to save the rest for tomorrow. And my stomach is just fine.

a dogpile

We parked in our friend’s driveway to camp for the night, knowing that this will be our last night on the road for a time. Tomorrow we will travel to Homer town and resume responsibility of Tails-By-The-Bay Dog Camp where a Boston Terrier named Otis, his side-kick a French Bulldog puppy called Sugar and a Belgium Terrier puppy named Gabby will greet us. They all sleep in the bed so tomorrow night will obviously be a nine-dog night.

But for now I will once again sleep in the Dora Explorer bed with a down comforter along side six canines that continue to hog the bed and snore, providing music to my ears and peaceful sleep. Stay tuned for the final 220 miles south to Homer, Alaska and a cottage called Footprints with a VW named VeVe under a pile of snow in the driveway. Life is good in the Greatland!