Peru 12 - Bun Energy and Hari Futbol

Oct 23, 2011, Sunday, after the festival

Generator has been acting up the past few days – power fluctuates on and off – having a headlamp handy is like wearing shoes now – just part of the nightly attire. A Krishna festival today – two and a half buses drop off a mix of tourists and Krishnas from Lima, and the place is buzzing with activity. I'm completely in my element for its my second day in a row in the panaderia (bakery) and I know I have found my new career. Today I made sweet and salado (savoury – although it sounds like salad bread) buns, and not only did I get bun compliments from various consumers, but the head baker herself said that both were really good – of course she baked it to perfection and told me what to throw in the bowl, but I'll take full credit for the kneading – it flows naturally thru me as I move my weight back and forth – just like that basic Tai Chi exercise that I learnt over the summer in Arcata. Yes, wheat, water, yeast and some chi and I am happy – not to mention my stomach. Last night I had an interesting conversation with Govinda – the studious devotee who has been tending the store (of Krishco fame). She asked about my time in the bakery, and after I said I am really content and positive about the whole experience, she comments how the “bun” energy spreads and benefits the community – a transference of positive vibes via buns. I envision a Bun Chi Bakery, where wheat devotees chant to the Omnipresent Grain God/ess, and buns are flying out the windows, where pilgrims scamper to catch them, and, as the warm dough descends to their stomachs, the positive energy touches their hearts on the way down.

The great thing about today’s festival is that a talented singer plus some real drummers have arrived, so the music in the temple today is actually quite good. In fact by the second song, I feel my heart open to the universe and tears of joy start to form, for when one transcends the gross and reaches the sublime (whatever that is for you), there is an incredible deep feeling of love and joy. I look over to another woman – she is openly crying and I know she has also heard/felt the divine. Whether it is Hare Krishna or Halleluiah, the many paths lead to the one source.

After “Hare Krishna”, the second most common phrase you hear here is “Hari Bol”. Both are basically Sanskrit mantras, and have no meaningful translation. “Hari Bol” is used in place of Hello or Goodbye quite a lot by the devotees. Yesterday, as we gazed out the bakery window, we see one of the devotees hobbling between two others – he has broken his leg playing football (soccer) on the sand – a common occurrence I am told since the foot sinks in the sand and a sudden movement in the wrong direction and snap! This morning he hobbles to the breakfast table with a new cast on his leg – I shout out “Hari FutBol”

Peru 11- FincaVille without Mark Zuckerberg

Oct 20, 2011, Eco Truly Park organic farm

Finca is Spanish for farm, and as we plant real seeds along the curving rows of real earth by the Pacific surf, I ponder the other millions who are sitting in their work cubicles, planting virtual seeds in FarmVille, a popular Facebook game. The cubiclers get sore eyes, whereas we get sore backs – a type of butterfly effect balance that makes our crazy world what it is. Seeds are amazing. They sit with their buddies in a bag, dormant and dreaming, then one day they are plonked into some earth, and, magically, they awaken and sprout forth, reaching on up towards the warm light. Humans are also seeds, sitting dormant with their buddies, until one day they find the right soil from which they can blossom into their full potential. That soil might be on a Peruvian farm, or it might be a career change that speaks to their heart, or a “chance” encounter with a stranger that diverts our well laid plans into new and enthralling directions.
I recall an interesting story during a Mexican dinner in Sandpoint, Idaho, where someone mentions this series of books called The Ringing Cedars of Russia. The story revolves around this young woman, Anna?, who was raised by the animals in Siberia, and who is a conduit for a fount of knowledge. In this case, she describes how plants are here to provide us with nourishment, but to communicate our particular needs to the plants, we should first place the seeds in our mouths, allowing the seed to absorb our DNA structure, so the seed can then grow with an optimized benefit to the consumer.

Do I walk the talk? I stand under the warming sun, a handful of seeds in my hand, but many other hands have touched these seeds, and with already too much roughage in my diet and an acute shortage of toilet paper, I throw the seeds in the ground sans human DNA.

As we later weed the carrots, more tours of Peruvians from Lima stroll by taking our photos – the irony of the locals taking pictures of “farmers” from Australia and North America does not escape us. Dos sols (60 cents) per photo! I shout out in Spanglish. I have to make a living somehow, but I am a terrible salesman and the tourists leave me sol-less.

Peru 10 - Breaking Brooms, Weaving Rafts, Krisco and “♫ Happy Krishna to You”

Oct 18, 2011, pre-breakie blog on the outdoor tables

My broom sweeping has reached a whole new level as the pole breaks into two pieces in one OMful sweep. Pancho hands me the last roll of toilet paper in the entire complex – that’s it for this year, I say (I hope this doesn't come true since there are 10 more weeks left in the year and Andy has diarrhoea). Jenny is weaving a raft out of banana leaves to get us off the Island. And since a new devotee has decided to join the sangha (oops, wrong faith) and its her birthday, we all get cake last night after an endless repetition of Hare Krishna sung to the tune of Happy Birthday – I kid you not.
Two nights ago Andy #2 (Brit visitor for two days) lent us his Five Crowns card game, and most of the volunteers (8 or so) were soon crowded in the common room – it twas a great social night for all and a welcome change from our usual independent night routines. We even got this scrumptious chocolate super-rich cake (yes – cake TWO days in a row – VUNDERBAR!) - my huge slice was a gift from the head baker to me since I didn't fail at my baking duties today. Yes, my dream came true. I finally got to work in the bakery on Sunday and we whipped up cakes, pies, buns, cookies and pizzas for all the visiting day-tourists who were flocking our Island. I made two pies – one apple, the other pineapple – and on the last pie I got creative and created a Truly design using pastry strips. Really enjoyed getting my hands in the dough and making everything from scratch – no canned fruit here as we shredded freshly cut pineapple and apples. Since no eggs allowed with Krishna followers, we used some sort of linseed substitute which worked just fine. Now if only they could keep the bakery open during the week...
A couple of nights ago, as we sat eating dinner in the foyer, loud Bollywood-type music is bopping out from the small store (where yoga pants, books and trinkets are sold). Govinda is the store clerk today, and she needs the music loud to stay awake (not many shoppers at this neck of the beach). Krishna Disco, I declare. Krisco, Andy quips back without a second thought.

Peru 9 -The Caverns of Nrsimha

Oct 15, 2011, 9:28am, the hidden caves of Chacra y Mar Playa

Breakfast is late, so time to write about our adventure in the nearby coastal caves. I'm up at 5:50am for the 6 am departure – silly me this South America, not North – actual departure time is 30 or so minutes later (mañana). With our Mexican guide, Govinda, Mika, Jenny, Casi and moi head out under foggy skies, heading south on the beach, then over the hill with the solitary Truly, down to the next cove. We strip off our shoes and are soon waiting outside a large cave entrance right at tide line. With huge swells coming in, we have to time our entrance between wave sets, otherwise risk getting a full salt water bath and a possible drag out to the ocean. Govinda has done this before – she is the first one in. We soon all follow, dashing thru the cave tunnel to reach the hidden beach in a huge cavern before the next wave washes in. A small beach is at the end of the cave, above which is a huge painting of Nrsimha – with a human body and a lion head. He is a masculine incarnation of Krishna. We sit cross-legged under the mural in a small semi-circle, and some OMs soon fill the cave with the crashing waves playing bass. A huge wave almost reaches our circle, and we spring up, ready to dash out in the next relatively safe moment.

Peruvian Perennial Psychology and Swami Paramadvaiti

I found a copy of Perennial Psychology in the volunteer common room last night, after playing a round of Hearts with Mika and Jenny. Published in 2007, this Manual on OIDA Therapy is written by Swami Paramadvaiti (born 1953 as Ulrich Harlan), the German founder of Eco Truly Park. This man had led a rich life, and has created many spiritual legacies around the world. He started a monastic life at 18. He has created many yoga ashrams and Eco-centres around the world – mostly in South America, and has studied and written and produced DVDs about the many world faiths. He lives between India and Eco Truly Park, but is on the road mostly giving talks around the world.

His basic philosophy is that secularism in education and ones life has blocked us from advancing as a human race, that leaving out the sacred and the mystical and the faith (regardless of culture) leads to egotism and greed and a lot of our suffering and pain. He encourages us to embrace our spiritual traditions, and meld them into our lives daily. There is no difference between a primitive man and a modern man. There is no difference between male and female. There is no difference between one faith and another. Underneath our various clothes, we are all human, and should treat each other as equals, with mutual respect.

Peru 8 - The Exploding Veggie in Eco Disneyland Park

Oct 14, 2011, 4:22pm, the Palapa “Bar”/Restaurant, Eco Truly

I sit in the large outdoor restaurant near the front entrance of Eco Truly – with its palapa roof and the sound of the surf, one could be anywhere in Mexico. But as a Krishna centre, there will be no alcohol served here, nor any fish nor carne. Its currently only used by the odd worker for lunch, but I suspect it becomes busy with tourists in the height of summer.

Caigua birds

I feel if I eat one more vegetable, I will explode with bits of corn, caigua, potatoes, lettuce and other assorted veggie shrapnel flying in all directions. As a dairy-grainaterian, I love not eating anything with eyes, but I don't think I have ever eaten so many veggies in my life – veggies for breakfast, veggies for lunch, and veggies for dinner, then repeat next day. Mind you, I am enjoying it, but am starting to miss pancakes, donuts, cakes, and PB M&M's.
This mornings breakfast was a real treat and exception to the norm. We had a mixed cereal (shreds of coconut, puffed wheat, crushed faux sesame snaps (a bit like styrofoam in texture) and other unidentified cereals) with warm milk (combo of cow + rice milk), topped with our fresh strawberries and chunks of pineapple. Yummmm!!! :)
I worked in the garden this morning – madly chopping lettuce, oregano, mint, etc for the market stand rush, then a more relaxed planting of new parsley-like shoots with Rosario the Gardener, then some weeding and raking.
Over 200 people from Lima arrived this morning by 1/2 dozen buses, for quick tour of our grounds. The Krishnas donned their official guide hats, and the gardener volunteers worked furiously to stock the market cart by the front entrance; for after the tour of the Bio-Huerta (organic gardens), most of the visiting women wanted to buy our fresh produce – the oregano and strawberries flew out of the cart and into the bus caravans. The place felt like Disneyland for a couple of hours.

 Eco Truly volunteer castle

The sun has been out for two days in a row – halleluiah!!!! After a week of fog and cool temperatures, it is nice to feel some heat for a change. Even my laundry (hand-washed before breakfast) was dry by noon – solar dryers rock. But already in the shade the wind feels cool again – back to long pants and a jacket.
Yesterday I went to Chancay with a couple of volunteers – an afternoon in the big (relative) city! I needed a data cable for my Nokia phone (to download pictures), plus another battery or charger for my camera battery, plus we all wanted to find an internet cafe to catch up on emails. Arriving at the town plaza (quite nice and spacious), we walked into the first corner store beside us – it looked like an ice-cream shop, and was about the size of a bedroom. Lo and behold they also did photocopies, and sell USB data cables the fit Nokia phones – AWESOME!
Then we walked down a narrow street filled to the brim of local vendors sending everything from fruit to CDs to TV remotes to fake Nike shoes. Then I stumbled past this tiny electronic vendor stall – could you help me senor? I showed him my dead camera battery. He pulls out a lithium-ion universal charger, demonstrates how it works (it even has a USB port for charging), and sells me it for 9 sols (around $3US) – VUNDERBAR! The universal charger I forgot back in Eugene cost me around $60. So lets say the $3 charger cost the vendor $1.50 wholesale. It is plastic, but contains a PCB computer board, USB port, and supports 120-220v. Its shipped from China – halfway around the world. It amazes me to have this device for such little cost – I am sure even child labour couldn't keep this price so low. But what do I know – nada – Yo se nada.

After emails at the internet cafe (no cafe actually, just internet) we board a shared taxi for home, and arrive in the dark for 3 sols ($1) each. There is no taxi dome light, so I pull out my tiny flashlight to count the change. A successful day! Now lets hope my camera battery doesn't explode when I attach it to the new charger.

My solar water heater project has been not completely successful. As a wimp, my daily cold showers are not the highlight of my day – but the other volunteers are amazed I bathe everyday – they hold out as long as possible before doing the cold rain dance. So when I found a 2.5 litre water bottle lying in a corner, I thought here was my shivering salvation. Gathering some broken mud bricks (everything here is built out of mud bricks), I made an open air oven outside – two towers of bricks – just below my window and placed my full water bottle between them, envisioning the hot sun creating boiling water by the end of the day. A week of fog prevented any rise in water temperature, but todays sunshine has given me new hope, and for the first time I could end my shower with less-than-lukewarm rinse. Since my window wall only gets sun in the afternoon, perhaps I will need to move to a sunnier location.

The shower head has vanished – I scrounge around in the other shower stalls until I find a spare shower head on the floor behind a sink. But now the water pressure is so low that its almost better to shower without the head. Water pressure is created by gravity feed from tanks on the roof, so as the tanks get lower in volume, pressure decreases. There is no power here to generate water pressure via pumps. To get an idea of the pressure coming out of the tap on the sink: cup your hands, place under faucet, count 4-5 seconds, then your hands will be full. Shower volume is a little better, but I find rinsing from my 2.5 litre bottle more effective than waiting under a dripping shower pipe. Interesting fact: your body will feel warm about 5-10 minutes after taking a cold shower.

Peru 7 - Mangoes and Mongrels

In the pre-dawn light, a solitary Krishna is singing outside the volunteer windows: ♫ Mango lassi...Mango lassi. ♫. At least, that’s what it sounds like – my dairy-craving translation of Sanskrit – for other than a morsel of cheese and a small ice-cream, I've had no dairy – one of my two “normal” food groups. A mango lassi is my favourite drink (like a milkshake) at Indian restaurants. I shuffle off to the composting toilet – its full and I will have to empty it. By “composting toilet” I mean a garbage pail with a hole cut in its lid, to which a broken toilet seat is attached. Sawdust is used after each use.

Last night Eliza translates the dog story – of why there are so many mutts and mongrels hanging around. Not long ago, a man drove down to the beach here in his truck. He opened the back tailgate, and thru out a haunch of meat, whereby a dozen or so dogs leaped after. He drove away in a cloud of dust. The cute looking dogs where adopted by the nearby homes and farmers. The remaining motley mutts took up camp at Eco Truly.

This reminds me of how masters and mutts tend to look alike. I ponder how over thirty years ago, the German founder of this ashram left his legacy, and, like a tasty morsel, wayward human mutts and mongrels flock here from around the world.

Somewhere between a light rain and a heavy mist falls outside – the ground is wet for the first time since arriving. Good thing I hung up my laundry last night to dry – now my clothes have been blessed by Natures Second Rinse. Hare Krishna.... ;)

Peru 6 - Dune Krishna (apologies to Dune Messiah and Frank Herbert)

I been wanting to climb the 1500' sand dune behind us, and this afternoon is Expedition SandWorm. I toss my Stilsuit into my pocket (Mighty Mango Naked Juice Smoothie bottle from Joshua Tree), and head up in them yar hills. Within minutes a local dog (in no short supply) joins me and together we ascend the sandy slopes. Soon the winding trucks and buses are far below, and the occasional flowering plant starts to appear. Then we are in a field of white and blue flowers – we have reached the alpine montane section (haha) of the dune. The sand is almost wet here, for up here the coastal mist rises up and blows across the upper half, given sustenance to the sand plants. Doggy finds a large animal hole in the ground – a sandworm lair I suspect. Near the top a brilliant yellow canola field appears (well the colour is canola), and I snap summit pictures of me and doggy – first ascent, without oxygen or porters. Then the fun part – I come screaming down the steep dune, doggy sliding beside me. A small sand avalanche starts just above the road, complete with fracture lines, and I envision the Pan American highway blocked for hours by a careless Canuck.
This morning Eliza, Mica, and I continue to paint the ashram – the final coat of whitewash has been applied, and I work on the black detail of some Sanskrit words on the wall. Mica comments on my good painting. I reply, Me llamo Michaelangelo, and I contemplate desecrating the wall with that signature.