Bonjourno! I am typing this from the quiet solitude of the area I've nicknamed Tatastha at the top of the stairs in Prabhupada Desh. I call it Tatastha, because it is a foyer which is basically the dividing point between where the ladies' and mens' guestrooms are. Krsangi and I say our goodnights and Haribols here. It is also the place to catch the strongest internet connection, so at any given time during the day, this landing looks like a cyber cafe. Right now, though, I'm the only one here (unless you count the mosquitoes... what is it with me and mosquitoes?), sitting in no-man's land, trying to do my duty to the blog readers by posting about our Italy trip so far.
Faith on a flight
Our flight over was good. I've gotten so used to traveling alone that having Krsangi's association was actually a novelty and a welcome change. We chanted, napped, and ate an ekadasi feast of potatoes, potatoes, and salad. For some reason, our plane was filled with Hasidic Jews. (I think the flight had a connecting flight to Isreal). It was really fascinating to see them in action. Actually, it gave us a lot of relaizations and an opportunity to reflect on our own practice as members of a highly demanding faith. For instance, we noticed that the adults all used their time to read scripture, pray, or do some constructive activity directly related to their faith or culture. They ate their specially ordered kosher meals (and other food they brought with them) quietly and thoughtfully. At a certain point (I guess a time of day... more educated readers can comment), all the men stoood up, put their jackets on, and began to pray together, making very dramatic gestures and movements. They did this without apology or any sign of feeling awkward. It got me thinking about our own identity as Caitanya Vaisnavas, and more specifically as ISKCON members (to use the simplest term, as "devotees"). We too have our belief the faith is to be lived 24/7, and if one were to alanyze a Krishna devotee on a flight, he or she might reflect on the same kinds of things: eating specially prepared foods, reading religious literature (usually exclusively), chanting on beads, saying prayers at certain times (perhaps together, if possible). In fact, I remembered a story about the devotees taking a flight to India -- one of the first Mayapur meetings -- and taking up half the flight. They were so many of them, that they did kirtan, chanted japa uip and down the aisles, and maybe even showed a Prabhupada film (not too sure about that last one though). In one sense, thats kind of cool; in another, its a bit too -- I don't know -- in your face. I guess I have yet to negotiate the tension between being unapologetic and maintaining a distinct, radically different identity, while still being conscientiuous and intentionally assimilating to the society around us
Anyway, we caught a connecting flight from Zurich to Venice. The 40 minute flight was uneventful, but afforded us a fantastic view of the Alps.
Three out of four
At the airport in Venice, we waited anxiously by the carousel for our bags. Sure enough, within a few minutes, the belt started up and the bags shot out. Remarkably, the first three were ours! That has never happened to us before, so we took it as an auspicious sign. Which just goes to show you that I have no future in reading auspicious signs, because the fourth bag never arrived. After standing in line, being re-directed to another line, being sent back to the first line, filing a complaint, getting yellled at by some pissed-off American lady who accused me of cutting the line, answering back said pissed-off lady calmly, getting apology from no-longer-pissed-off lady, and finally being told the bag was still in Zurich and would be dropped off to us, we left.
Bonjourno Italiana style
We nervously walked out into the arrival lounge, and almost immediately recognized our godbrother Giridhari Prabhu. Although it has been several years since Giridhari and his wife Gandharvika stayed with us in NY, seeing his jolly smile and feeling his warm brotherly embrace, I felt like we were the best of friends. He happily led us to the car, and introduced us to a handsome, dignified Italian man -- with silver hair, a bronze tan, and looking like he just stepped out of an Armani ad -- named Sri Adwaita prabhu. We will be staying with Sri Adwaita and his wife in Venice, so I hope to blog about him in more detail later.
Soon, we were coasting down an Italian highway (which felt like a weird cross betwen being in California, India, and the UK), chatting away like old friends as we braved traffic jams on the way to the temple.
Throughout the ride, i was struck by how welcoming and friendly Giridhari is. Sometimes, when you enter a new country you have to deal with some coldness or feeling ut of place for a little while before the ice melts. That was my own experience for the last two years that I've been partiicipating in the conference. But here, there was no need. In this land of hundreds of thousandds of beautiful people, we felt re-assured that we had our own guradian Italian angel looking out for us.
Sanyassinis in Prabhupada country
Pulling up to Prabhupada Desh, a villa about an hour outside of Venice, was exciting. Having only seen this place in pictures, Krsangi and I were very impressed seeing it all in person. The temple is not huge or architecturallly stunning (although it is nice), but the place has real charm to it. Marble everywhere, beuatiful huge paintings of Prabhupada in many rooms and areas, sweeping stairwell, classical looking Italian fixtures. Since
Incidentally, the temple is called "Prabhupada Desh" which translates literally into "Prabhupada's country." I find the name a bit humurous because of the conotatons that des(h)i has for me. Imagine asomeone being an American Born Confused Prabhuada Desi? :-)
We were soon shown to our rooms -- I'm staying with Anuttama Prabhu and Krsangi with Mother Rukmini. One funny thing about our accommodations: they have Krs and M. Rukmini staying in the sannayasi quarters (Jayadvaita Swami, the only sannyasi in the place right now is staying in another room). The two "sanyassinis" thus get to experience the luxury (relative) of a private bathroom, nice furniture, ceiling fans that actually work, and a proper sitting room area. Sweet. My room is small, stuffy, hot, and faces the noisy main road; but on the plus side it is nice to get to spend time with Anuttama Prabhu, and the room is clean and simple with a nice view of the Italian countryside.
Bubbles
The conference had not yet started, so we had an afternoon to do whatever we wanted. After rest, showering, an changing into some comfortable clothes (Reason #476 why I already fell in love with Italy: guys can actually wear linin pants here), we met back up with Giridhari, who had a special treat planned for us. Although he had work to do, he came to drop us off to a nearby place to relax. Because we told him that we felt we needed to unwind and decompress, he suggested that we go to experience a form of relaxation therapy that --as far as I could tell -- was simply called "bubbles." From his descriptions, I gathered that this was a natural hot springs (Krs and I went in Alachua, and we loved it), so we agreed.
Note: Although Giridhari and I have pretty good communication skills, at times things get lost in translation. Case in point...
When we got to the place, we realized that it wasn't a natural hot springs, afterall -- it was a sor of resort center in a hotel. Still, we were definitely in the mood to try it out. After paying some nominal entrance fee, we went in, changed to swimsuits, and hit the pool. Actually, the place is a large omplex of pools, whirlpools, and massage jetstreams. The mood was very nice, and soon enough we got over the bit of self-consciousness we brought in with us. We were able to relax -- something that, between Kazakhstan and Sunday School, we are generally in urgent need of -- and give our bodies and minds some (regulated) pampering.
Heavenly planet
After several hours chanting "I am still not this body... I'm pretty sure, I'm not this body," while streams of temperate water eased knots of tension out of my back, it was time to return to dry land. But the enjoyment was just beginning.
Yes, it happened. For the first time in our lives, Krsangi and I ate pizza in Italy.
It tasted surprisingly like the pizza I grew up eating in non-descript NYC pizzarias. That is to say, it was delicious. Delicate, sweet tomato sauce; rich, expressive mozzarella cheese; a thin, light crispy crust. Lifetimes of prayers fulfilled...
Of course, just to be safe, we washed down the pizza with homemade ice cream from a small shp owned by devotees near the temple. An outdoor musician strummed an acoustic guitars for a crowd of Summer evening patrons, as we let the prasadam hazlenut and mint ice creams officially welcome us to Italy -- which I am now more convinced than ever is a bonafide heavenly planet.
Holy insomnia, Batman
We got back lat enough that the temple was asleep but not late enough to be sleepy ourselves. After saying goodnight to Krsangi at Tatastha, I head back to the room, but just couldn;t sleep. So, while Anuttama Prabhu dozed, I sat by the open window (no screens or bars in this place -- open the shutters and you are there) in our room and just tried to take in the beauty of Krishna's creation in a place like this. As I gazed out towards the moonlight sky and the sillhouttes of the post-card-perfect hills in the distance, I heard a flapping and swooping noise. Looking up, directly above my window, 5 or 6 bats were engaged in an elaborate air show. Bats. I watched for a while, amazed to actually be here, and then finallly forced myself to sleep.
Faith on a flight
Our flight over was good. I've gotten so used to traveling alone that having Krsangi's association was actually a novelty and a welcome change. We chanted, napped, and ate an ekadasi feast of potatoes, potatoes, and salad. For some reason, our plane was filled with Hasidic Jews. (I think the flight had a connecting flight to Isreal). It was really fascinating to see them in action. Actually, it gave us a lot of relaizations and an opportunity to reflect on our own practice as members of a highly demanding faith. For instance, we noticed that the adults all used their time to read scripture, pray, or do some constructive activity directly related to their faith or culture. They ate their specially ordered kosher meals (and other food they brought with them) quietly and thoughtfully. At a certain point (I guess a time of day... more educated readers can comment), all the men stoood up, put their jackets on, and began to pray together, making very dramatic gestures and movements. They did this without apology or any sign of feeling awkward. It got me thinking about our own identity as Caitanya Vaisnavas, and more specifically as ISKCON members (to use the simplest term, as "devotees"). We too have our belief the faith is to be lived 24/7, and if one were to alanyze a Krishna devotee on a flight, he or she might reflect on the same kinds of things: eating specially prepared foods, reading religious literature (usually exclusively), chanting on beads, saying prayers at certain times (perhaps together, if possible). In fact, I remembered a story about the devotees taking a flight to India -- one of the first Mayapur meetings -- and taking up half the flight. They were so many of them, that they did kirtan, chanted japa uip and down the aisles, and maybe even showed a Prabhupada film (not too sure about that last one though). In one sense, thats kind of cool; in another, its a bit too -- I don't know -- in your face. I guess I have yet to negotiate the tension between being unapologetic and maintaining a distinct, radically different identity, while still being conscientiuous and intentionally assimilating to the society around us
Anyway, we caught a connecting flight from Zurich to Venice. The 40 minute flight was uneventful, but afforded us a fantastic view of the Alps.
Three out of four
At the airport in Venice, we waited anxiously by the carousel for our bags. Sure enough, within a few minutes, the belt started up and the bags shot out. Remarkably, the first three were ours! That has never happened to us before, so we took it as an auspicious sign. Which just goes to show you that I have no future in reading auspicious signs, because the fourth bag never arrived. After standing in line, being re-directed to another line, being sent back to the first line, filing a complaint, getting yellled at by some pissed-off American lady who accused me of cutting the line, answering back said pissed-off lady calmly, getting apology from no-longer-pissed-off lady, and finally being told the bag was still in Zurich and would be dropped off to us, we left.
Bonjourno Italiana style
We nervously walked out into the arrival lounge, and almost immediately recognized our godbrother Giridhari Prabhu. Although it has been several years since Giridhari and his wife Gandharvika stayed with us in NY, seeing his jolly smile and feeling his warm brotherly embrace, I felt like we were the best of friends. He happily led us to the car, and introduced us to a handsome, dignified Italian man -- with silver hair, a bronze tan, and looking like he just stepped out of an Armani ad -- named Sri Adwaita prabhu. We will be staying with Sri Adwaita and his wife in Venice, so I hope to blog about him in more detail later.
Soon, we were coasting down an Italian highway (which felt like a weird cross betwen being in California, India, and the UK), chatting away like old friends as we braved traffic jams on the way to the temple.
Throughout the ride, i was struck by how welcoming and friendly Giridhari is. Sometimes, when you enter a new country you have to deal with some coldness or feeling ut of place for a little while before the ice melts. That was my own experience for the last two years that I've been partiicipating in the conference. But here, there was no need. In this land of hundreds of thousandds of beautiful people, we felt re-assured that we had our own guradian Italian angel looking out for us.
Sanyassinis in Prabhupada country
Pulling up to Prabhupada Desh, a villa about an hour outside of Venice, was exciting. Having only seen this place in pictures, Krsangi and I were very impressed seeing it all in person. The temple is not huge or architecturallly stunning (although it is nice), but the place has real charm to it. Marble everywhere, beuatiful huge paintings of Prabhupada in many rooms and areas, sweeping stairwell, classical looking Italian fixtures. Since
Incidentally, the temple is called "Prabhupada Desh" which translates literally into "Prabhupada's country." I find the name a bit humurous because of the conotatons that des(h)i has for me. Imagine asomeone being an American Born Confused Prabhuada Desi? :-)
We were soon shown to our rooms -- I'm staying with Anuttama Prabhu and Krsangi with Mother Rukmini. One funny thing about our accommodations: they have Krs and M. Rukmini staying in the sannayasi quarters (Jayadvaita Swami, the only sannyasi in the place right now is staying in another room). The two "sanyassinis" thus get to experience the luxury (relative) of a private bathroom, nice furniture, ceiling fans that actually work, and a proper sitting room area. Sweet. My room is small, stuffy, hot, and faces the noisy main road; but on the plus side it is nice to get to spend time with Anuttama Prabhu, and the room is clean and simple with a nice view of the Italian countryside.
Bubbles
The conference had not yet started, so we had an afternoon to do whatever we wanted. After rest, showering, an changing into some comfortable clothes (Reason #476 why I already fell in love with Italy: guys can actually wear linin pants here), we met back up with Giridhari, who had a special treat planned for us. Although he had work to do, he came to drop us off to a nearby place to relax. Because we told him that we felt we needed to unwind and decompress, he suggested that we go to experience a form of relaxation therapy that --as far as I could tell -- was simply called "bubbles." From his descriptions, I gathered that this was a natural hot springs (Krs and I went in Alachua, and we loved it), so we agreed.
Note: Although Giridhari and I have pretty good communication skills, at times things get lost in translation. Case in point...
When we got to the place, we realized that it wasn't a natural hot springs, afterall -- it was a sor of resort center in a hotel. Still, we were definitely in the mood to try it out. After paying some nominal entrance fee, we went in, changed to swimsuits, and hit the pool. Actually, the place is a large omplex of pools, whirlpools, and massage jetstreams. The mood was very nice, and soon enough we got over the bit of self-consciousness we brought in with us. We were able to relax -- something that, between Kazakhstan and Sunday School, we are generally in urgent need of -- and give our bodies and minds some (regulated) pampering.
Heavenly planet
After several hours chanting "I am still not this body... I'm pretty sure, I'm not this body," while streams of temperate water eased knots of tension out of my back, it was time to return to dry land. But the enjoyment was just beginning.
Yes, it happened. For the first time in our lives, Krsangi and I ate pizza in Italy.
It tasted surprisingly like the pizza I grew up eating in non-descript NYC pizzarias. That is to say, it was delicious. Delicate, sweet tomato sauce; rich, expressive mozzarella cheese; a thin, light crispy crust. Lifetimes of prayers fulfilled...
Of course, just to be safe, we washed down the pizza with homemade ice cream from a small shp owned by devotees near the temple. An outdoor musician strummed an acoustic guitars for a crowd of Summer evening patrons, as we let the prasadam hazlenut and mint ice creams officially welcome us to Italy -- which I am now more convinced than ever is a bonafide heavenly planet.
Holy insomnia, Batman
We got back lat enough that the temple was asleep but not late enough to be sleepy ourselves. After saying goodnight to Krsangi at Tatastha, I head back to the room, but just couldn;t sleep. So, while Anuttama Prabhu dozed, I sat by the open window (no screens or bars in this place -- open the shutters and you are there) in our room and just tried to take in the beauty of Krishna's creation in a place like this. As I gazed out towards the moonlight sky and the sillhouttes of the post-card-perfect hills in the distance, I heard a flapping and swooping noise. Looking up, directly above my window, 5 or 6 bats were engaged in an elaborate air show. Bats. I watched for a while, amazed to actually be here, and then finallly forced myself to sleep.
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