JANUARY 31, 2013
The group headed into Khujuraho proper today for an organized
temple tour and shopping trip, which is to say I caught a ride with the group
to Khujarho so they could go on a tour and shop while I interacted with the
locals.
The temples were amazing and unlike any other temples I have
seen.
All the same, I’m not the temple nerd that many other travelers
and seekers are. In the next two days I
would pass on free trips to other temples in the region so I could focus on my
personal (yoga and meditation) practice.
The temple walk took about an hour of the three-and-a-half
we had in town. I wandered alone past
the tourist trap shops and got to the edge of the little downtown area. There was a mass of people a couple hundred
meters from the road. It was chaos,
though I could not tell why. Time to
investigate.
Walking with the masses I was approached by a friendly
English-speaking local offering me “good organic stuff.” Okay, even I’ll admit that this beard and
long hair make me look like a pothead.
Or Osama Bin Laden, which I was once again told I look like today. Though the best line was, “Long hair, long
life.” Not one but two merchants said
that trying to pull me into their store.
Beats the former Ameriprise corporate mantra of, “Short sleeves, short
career.”
As I approached it was clear that today was market day in
Khajuraho. Small crop farmers had a
rainbow of spices and vegetables laid out on display. It was the coolest find ever. I didn’t know where to begin.
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| They don't often have this problem at Whole Foods |
Many people back at camp had stated they wished there was
fresh ginger to make hot ginger tea, so I scored some of that.
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| Two rupees per poof ball. Seriously!? I'd like 10 please. |
Making sure that no one from my group was around to harass me for eating street food, I crushed
some of the dirty fried goodness being sold in the carts. One samosa …a couple of those poofy balls
they put the sauce in …some sugary desserts …it was the real Indian food I had
been dreaming about since joining the retreat and having my meals prepared for
me.
With full belly, I wandered on, watching a hysterical scene
unfold as one of the cows ventured into the market and turned it into his
personal buffet. You don’t see that in
farmers markets in the U.S.
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| He's hold a cinnamon stick. No joke. |
One of the spice vendors sucked me by offering me samples of
a dozen spices I didn’t recognize. The
licorice seeds were still in their pods.
The cinnamon was still intact as three feet of bark. I bought some of each along with fennel seeds
for after dinner breath freshener. Then
it happened.
A kid taps me on the shoulder holding a wicker basket. It was one of the shallow twelve inch types
that you would expect your fajita wraps to be served from. As I turned the kid opens the top, “King
cobra? Hundred rupees?” and the snake
lifts his head out of the basket toward the day light. I jump back with a display of fast twitch
muscles not displayed since high school basketball. Sensing my fear, the kid follows
closely. He’s an arms length away and though
he closed the basket, the snake’s head and several inches of neck managed to
dangle out. Despite hours of peaceful meditation
in the previous days, I completely lose my s#!t and drop a very loud American F
bomb. The kid was as startled by my
outburst as I was of the cobra. He turns
and backs away, I turn to run.
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| When I own a LBS, we're totally having a lamb as the shop pet. |
An old man sees the whole thing and motions slowly with his
palms facing the ground. He either wants
me to slide into third base or to calm down.
I opt for the later as the man offers a sincere smile and says, “Its
okay, its okay.” I return the smile and go back for another ten
rupee ($0.18) samosa.
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