SPIRITUAL AWAKENING...WELL NOT YET BUT GETTING THERE

HARIDWAR

I'm glad I had company on my first train experience in India since 2006. The trains have gotten better but the station in Delhi is still a zoo of travellers, stray dogs, coolies, food sellers, pick-pocketers, homeless and just loads and loads of people. Sitting in a AC first class car I'm comfortable and hungry. It's only 6:50am and the train is just pulling out of the station - right on schedule which surprises me. I thought everything in this country runs on IST (Indian standard time - at least half an hour behind schedule) but nope not the Shatabdi express! 
A half an hour nap, two meals in 5 hours and we're there. We're greeted at the train station by Ritu's Uncle and the 5 of us (Ritu, her husband Jai, myself, Uncle and his friend) pack into a small honda hatchback. Yup, no more luxury from now on but I'm happy with this. I'm back to my basic backpacker lifestyle - it suits me well.

Uncle's hunting rifle 

I have experienced my first religious ritual. I've taken a dip in the holy waters, the Ganga (Hindi way of saying Ganges). Hindus say the Ganga washes away your sins.  I really hadn't planned on going in past my knees but as I turned to climb back up the steps Uncle stopped me and told me I had to go in and that it is "very important". So I got peer pressured by a man more than twice my age. 
I let out a yelp when I almost got pushed in by the mob around me who apparently weren't bothered by the freezing grey-greenish water. I slowly crept my way in. Once the water was waist level and I had practically been drenched by the all the splashing, I knew there was no turning back. I embraced the mind over matter attitude and shrieked my way into the icy river. On the count of three, Ritu and I blocked our noses and went under. I couldn't believe I had done it! I was so proud of myself. However I didn't feel any lighter by having my sins washed away. I think all I got was nearly pneumonia and who knows what kind of germs laced onto my skin and hair. I mean for heaven's sake people throw their deceased loved ones ashes into this river!

Pilgrims

"All good. Not freezing at all." (hahah, yeah right)

We stick around to watch the Aarti (religious ritual of lighting wicks and offering it to the Ganga) which is suppose to be beautiful. So we stand on the steps of the Ganga and listen to the chanting and praying going on by the Sadhus and pundits. I see a man pouring in some liquid into the Ganga with one hand and holding his mobile up to his ear with the other- spirituality in the 21^st century. This image really defines what India is becoming; a holy and spiritual land trying to balance the influx of consumerism and technology. I smirk. 

Lighting of wicks

While I listen to the chanting and watch the crowd in devotion, I figure now would be a good time to get connected with my spiritual self, so I pray. It’s a bit selfish, to say the least because as I focus my attention on the swirling murky water the only thing that comes to mind is to ask God to help me find what I’m looking for.  Probably too vague of a question. I’m sure even God doesn't know what I’m asking.

All sorts of stuff being thrown into the Ganga

Ritu and I after being blessed by the Ganga and a Pundit 

After we’re ‘purified’ and in touch with our holier sides, we get shoved and pushed around the mosh pit trying to get our shoes and back into town. So much for peace and tranquillity. We escape and hold hands as we walk through the market towards home. I feel like we've just come out of a concert hall with fans eager to get home while others hang around wondering what do with that high religious adrenaline pumping through their veins.     


And then it happens, I get my ass grazed. Yup. It was bound to happen so I’m not too annoyed but still having a man intentionally slide his hand across your butt as he glares back at you with a creepy smile pasted on his face, will always feel degrading. He's too far ahead for me to whack him with my water bottle but I'm prepared for the next perv. 


I’ll be travelling to the Patanjali Yogpreeth ashram (http://www.divyayoga.com/)  on the outskirts of Haridwar tomorrow on my own so I'm going to have to develop a  more aggressive attitude and try to look tough and of course have my water bottle around as a weapon. Oh jeez, travelling alone in India, what am I thinking?! I’m not.

The 20km journey to Pajanjali takes an hour long bumpy autorikshaw ride. I arrive sweating and with a headache. I pay, according to local standards, an expensive fare to the autorikshaw wala- a whole 200 rupees which is about four bucks. 

Okay so the ashram is nothing what I expected. The massive white arc of the front gate makes it look like I'm entering a place dedicated to top secret investigative services than a place which is meant to treat people and encourage a yogic lifestyle. The guards here look more attentive than the indifferent Delhi cops who just look bored most of the times while they pick their noses – no exaggeration here, I've seen it with my own eyes! 

[pictures of the ashram to be included here once I get my camera working again]

The grounds are huge and there are different buildings each housing a different service from aryuvedic treatment facilities to hospital like rooms to a cafeteria. I feel like I’m on a University campus.  I realize when I get to the ‘patient registration’ counter and asked what my illness is, that this place is more of an Aryuvedic treatment centre than a place to get in touch with ones spirituality. So I tell the Doctor, who looks at least a few years younger than me, all about my IBS. I’m given yet another list of products I must take, and told I need to learn pranyama and kapalbhati  (yoga breathing techniques) to cure my illness. I’m surprised that this Doctor thinks my IBS is curable when all the western docs I have seen have told me that there’s no cure only methods of coping. So I take my bags, sign up for an AC room and settle in.

I think I’m the only foreigner here and the intense stares I’m getting verify it and make me feel out of place. I ask Dr. Doogie Howser where and when the yoga takes place and then at 5:30pm I make my way to the large gazebo like structure to take part in my first pranayama lesson. It’s everything my Mom had tried to teach me and I feel guilty for not listening to her – Mom’s are always right. Damn it!

The instructor has us doing slow movements and stretches and I’m already sweating. Of course it doesn’t help that it’s about 40 degrees Celsius outside. I’m proud of myself for sitting through the full lesson which is an hour and half. I reserve to my room, shower and head to bed. I set my alarm for 6am so I can be ready for the 7am yoga. 

so yeah that doesn’t happen. I’m exhausted and don’t wake up until 10:30am. After lunch in a cold and dreary looking cafeteria I step outside the ashram grounds to the only shop in the near vicinity. I’m impressed with this line up of shops. I find my batteries and some gum and I’m quite thrilled when I spot ‘cyber shop’ written on a small boxed room with only three computers inside. I’m feeling a little guilty for going on the internet while staying at an ashram but without internet access for the last 24 hours, I'm going through withdrawal. Contact with the outside world for half an hour and I feel so much better. It’s almost time for the 5:30pm pranayam class so I take my seat and I’m already feeling hot and sticky. This is going it be tough.

I made it! I did the full one and half hour session and I’m proud of myself. Off to bed early, pranayama at 7am and then get ready and leave for another ashram. The morning pranayama is tough. I’m tired and eager to reach the next ashram which I’m hoping will cater more to what I’m looking for....wait, do I even know what I’m looking for?

FIRST 3 WEEKS IN DELHI

When I landed at the Indira Gandhi International airport I didn't know what to expect; I half expected a bit of chaos but then as the escalator descended towards immigration it all started to look very familiar -  high ceilinged walls covered with brass plates and protruding palms with the fingers sculpted into religious hand positions known as mudras - it brought me back to December 2010 when I made the trek to India for my friend Cauvery's wedding. I didn't think I'd be back so soon let alone for no reasons in particular other than to travel around the country. Does travelling suffice as a reason? With no exact plan and only a vague idea of what I want to do whilst I'm here, I step into the furnace like outdoors and see my name displayed on a piece of paper. I put my hand up like I'm in grade school being called out during morning attendance. The driver spots me and waves me over. The 30 second wait for my bags to be placed in the trunk and I'm already perspiring. I reach my destination which is an Indian palace like mansion in half an hour and my bags are automatically taken up to the 2nd floor where I'll be staying. This home belongs to the Kakar family who are old friends of my parents. I've known them since I think I was about 9 and they've graciously allowed me to crash at their place until I figure out where I'm going next. 

My home for the next 3 weeks. It's much, much bigger on the inside. 

Delhi on the outside looks the same as I last left it but it's the changes in people I notice. The middle class are getting richer, their cars bigger and their cell phones flashier and as a foreigner who is Indian, I'm not stared at as much - they've seen the likes of me before. Of course I am sooo 'last season' with my light weight 'non smart-phone' from Cambodia and $1 flip flops. However the array of smells and the circus that is India hasn't changed. The colours are bright and loud and the people even more vibrant. It’s impossible not to stare at all the chaos. People run and hang off honking buses, groups of children are packed in autorickshaws like sardines, families of 5 ride on motorcycles comfortably and malnourished cows roam around looking for scraps to eat as the homeless find a vacant space on the pavement to rest on. India is a country of extremes. Extreme wealth and extreme poverty co-existing right next to one another.

My first autorikshaw ride back from the aryuvedic hospital (look in the rearview mirror and you'll see my greasy head covered look)

June 7th

A week has gone by and I'm already sick. I had frequently heard of the term 'Delhi belly' and I finally know first hand what it means. I spent the better part of the last 72 hours in the washroom. I really don't know what it could be since I've been fairly careful with where and what I've been eating and drinking and since I've been travelling for so long I thought my system could fight off most bacteria. London must have softened me up. After an exhausting three days of being bed ridden I'm eager to get out of the house. I tag along when auntie heads out for some jewellery shopping at the Greater Kailash market where I find much to my liking. The next day I hit the colourful Sarojni market where the clothes are cheap and the options plentiful - my kind of place. However just half an hour of wandering outdoors at 8pm in the evening and I'm sweating. I buy two kurthis (light cotton Indian styled tops) and a pair of tights for $6 and I’m happy.

Shopping/sweating at Sarojini market

So I’ve taken my aunts advice and started aryuvedic treatment - An ancient Indian method that uses natural ingredients and methods to cure illnesses - yet another attempt at trying to cure my chronic digestive issues (a.k.a. IBS). So I'm taking some repulsive, vomit inducing herbal meds twice a day and getting shirodhara - a process of warm oil being continuously poured on the forehead for half an hour. The idea is to have the oil seep into the head and calm the nerves.

Shirodhara

 The process itself is relaxing but after three days of reeking of coconut diesel I figure it’s not helping my digestive issues so I stop. Perhaps I would have continued the treatment had it been given in a luxurious spa where the atmosphere would be soothing and comforting.  The Aryuvedic hospital in contrast is government run so cleanliness is lacklustre to say the least and after hearing Ritu scream because she saw a mouse run out of the steam bed, I decided to call it quits.  The rest of my time in Delhi is spent chilling, writing, reading, working out and checking out a few movies and restaurants. I’m living the high class life, but not for long. My journey out of Delhi is about to begin...

Free food being given out on the side of the street

2AM IN DELHI

I want to just run. Run until I can't run anymore and until there's no where to run too. That's all. Just run.
Lost. Yup I'm lost.
Things that I am: Lost, confused, frustrated, angry, scared.......getting there.
Why did I leave? Why did I come?
I can't write. I can't find myself. Such a strange notion. I mean I'm right here. I am me. Well not according to Buddhists; there is no I. What we call 'I' is beginningless and endless. We're all recycled and should therefore try to stop this cycle of 'life' so we can finally be at peace. But I, yes I, don't know if this is the truth. I don't entirely believe this theory.
You shoot me down but I won't fall, I am titanium, I am titanium! 

HELPING ANJALI KIDS GO TO UNIVERSITY

Okay so I'm at it again, trying to raise money for a cause very dear to my heart, Anjali House (http://www.anjali-house.com/). Most of you know this is where I spent 3 months volunteering in Siem Reap, Cambodia. The kids at Anjali are frequently asked by volunteers, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" and in return are given various responses such as teacher, doctor, nurse, English guide, hotel manager, etc... Well the time has come when some of these kids have grown up and want to live out their dream; however this can only happen if Anjali can raise enough money to send these intelligent, energetic, amazing kids to college. (You can read more about what these kids hope to accomplish at University here: http://yapip.wordpress.com/#) So this is where you step in. I am raising money for the kids of Anjali so they too can receive higher education and can one day sustain themselves and their families. Every dollar goes along way so if you can only give $1 then give one dollar. Every bit counts. To donate just click on the 'Donate' button below which will take you to paypal. It's easy to donate, you just need a credit card. Thanks to everyone who has already donated!

LONDON

I was in London for a month! No wait more than a month. Jeez how did that happen? Well I sort of know how but I mean why did that happen? That I'm still not too sure about. I was on Koh Tao Island in Thailand on the 10th and then I'm in Madrid for like a week and then London. A man happened, that's what.

I landed in London all bleary eyed and dazed, not too sure what had just transpired in the last 48 hours. All I wanted was to go back to the peace I had felt standing in the crystal clear water watching the sunset. But even then my mind was running with thoughts about the meaning of life, my future, my dreams...him.

London began with what I thought would be a quick visit with my sister and her family, a few friends and cousins before I took off for India. But a week turned into two. Five weeks later and I was still around. I made the mistake of not applying for an Indian visa as soon as I got there and that delayed things as well as persistent friends who convinced me to stay longer. But the truth is, I needed a time-out. Time-out from all that had gone on. I needed to be still and clear my mind. It worked but it did take time, a lot of time and distraction - and this is where my sis and her family came in.

Adrian the chatter box and Milo the Monster (my nick-name for the cutie since he's a feisty one) kept me occupied. They'll never know how they helped my hurting heart heal so it could be filled with love for these two adorable boys. So I spent most of my days with them; Gor, Oli, Adrian and Milo. Highlights include: picking up Adrian from pre-school and watching him scan the crowd of parents and then light up when he had spotted me; dancing with Milo (by far the best dance partner I've ever had); picnic with the whole family at the beautiful Emmetts Garden on a sunny day; laughing my ass off when Adrian yelled out through tears 'It's gone forever!' when Gor got the buggy caught in the trunk latch; Milo's face when trying Perrier for the first time; going out for drinks with Gor in a pub and realizing we have more in common than we thought, laughing at Oli as he tried to tarzan his lanky body across a stream by hanging onto a wooden stick, drinking wine and snacking on cheese and olives on the patio table long after the kids were put to bed, taking the kids to the park, chasing Adrian around the house and playing peek-a-boo with Milo. These are just the highlights, everyday was something new with the kids. And I don't think I would have felt the freedom to take my time if it weren't for Gor and Oli. They made me feel so welcomed and at home, it was just what I needed...sigh...

And of course there are my amazing friends who listened, cared, gave advice and made me laugh. There was much time spent skyping and chatting over facebook with friends as well as face to face time with friends that live in the city. It was so strange seeing Gemma for the first time in London since she wasn't wearing her travelling garb or had her massive backpack strapped to her. Gemma had told me, while we were in Bali that when I came to London I'd have to go see Les Miserables with her so that's exactly what we did. It was an amazing show. We also spent time sucking our chupa Chups lolly's as we reminisced about Siem Reap, Aqua, Bali and Gili.

About to go see Les Mis

At Buckingham Palace on a nice day

With my preggers friend Cauvery there was much time spent chatting and catching up on each other's lives. It was so nice getting to spend more than a few days with her and her husband Rishabh. They took me to Oxford where Rishabh had done law and I got to see the gorgeous University. I stayed over at their place for a few days and Cauv and I would chat well into the night talking about...well just about everything!

At Christchurch 

Oxford

I got loads of down time in London and it was a nice change from being on the go all over South East Asia. Not to mention being able to drink tap water and a change in food. My friends and family know how to feed me well. Other highlights include seeing a former CTV co-worker and my cousins. Oh and how can I forget, the Queen!

Queeny

LOVE...?

April 2, 2012 It’s been a whirlwind of a week. I was in Chiang Mai, north Thailand, contemplating doing a three day meditation retreat and wondering why I’m alive and what I’m meant to do and if it all means nothing and then on my last day as I ventured out on my own to have a few drinks before I saying goodbye to Chiang Mai, I met a man. An amazing older, sexy, Spanish man who had me flying. Unfortunately I had too many mojitos; being a foreigner travelling by myself it wasn’t the wisest decision but with all that had been running through my head that week, being responsible wasn’t on my mind. Jose, my Don Juan, guided me home – my guesthouse- as we walked hand in hand in the rain. He then held my hair back and stroked my hand as I was sick from downing way too many mojitos. The next morning when I saw him lying next to me, I wondered why he stayed. Why were we clothed and why did he only just turn around, looked at me and asked how I was feeling without trying to get into my pants. There was no trying to ‘sleep’ with me, just next to me. And so I began falling.

We lay in bed for most of the day; well I did most of the laying around since my stomach was desperately trying to recover from the overdose of the Cuban drink. Jose brought me juice and fruit and nursed me back to better health but mainly by just staying with me and making me laugh and smile. Just hours with him and he had me convinced not to catch my train to Bangkok that evening but instead to go on his flight the following evening which would be on him. Of course the idea seemed crazy considering I had only known him for about 12 hours at that point but the circumstances weren’t exactly ‘ordinary’ and neither is the man. We had a lovely romantic dinner by the riverside that night and then went to see Jose’s school friends. Did I mention he was in Chiang Mai for a month learning Thai massage? Hello!?

So I drank water, Jose had a coke and we sat with his friends and then bid farewell to the group and walked back to my guesthouse – hand in hand. Today we woke up and lay around listening to Spanish music as Jose sang along and to me with his sexy, deep voice. It was all very, very romantic. Jose’s ‘assistant’, as he liked to call the tuk tuk driver who became like his personal chauffeur while he was in Chiang Mai, was due to pick us up at 5pm to take us to the airport. So we spent the morning and the afternoon taking photos of each other, of us together and listening to music. We headed out for a coffee and a bite and then were off to the airport. This is when I started to feel a growing tightness in my belly. I knew the reality of saying good-bye to this man and to the amazing time we had together was coming to an end. We spent the next few hours pretending that it wasn’t really going to end as Jose role-played talking to me as if I were a stranger and telling this stranger about his ‘wife’- yes that would be me he was referring to. He went on about how this fantastic woman and he were going to adopt 8 children and live together in Spain. It was sweet and I forgot for those moments that I was going to say good-bye in a few hours.

Then because Jose was continuing further to Madrid he had to go through security at a different check point and so the two ‘strangers’ were separated for a brief time only to meet again on the plane and ‘coincidentally’ had seats next to one another. This is when Jose spent the entire one hour flight telling me I should really consider coming to Madrid with him. I wanted to. I wanted to dive in and say “yes, I’ll go with you!” But then that would be his story and not mine. And this whole trip has been about me and my story. I need to go my own way, find my own way, rely on myself, pave my own path. So now I’m sitting in Bangkok a few hours after saying bye to my Spanish man at the airport and I can’t stop thinking about him. But as a friend wisely just told me over facebook; it’s better to have experienced something that amazing than not have experienced it at all. I felt momentarily at ease. But for now, for the next little while, I think I’ll just let my mind drift off to thinking about Jose.

April 6, 2012 A lot has happened in 4 days. Jose and I have spoken via facebook and then over the phone. He told me he is in love with me. I was in shock when I read the message typed on facebook chat. I told him to call me ASAP. Hearing his voice over the line brought back the butterflies. He told me he had to see me. I was of course completely taken aback at his enthusiasm. Obviously I just linked this to his desire to just want to continue the over the top romance we had in Chiang Mai and a part of that is true but he really, sincerely wants to see me and be with me. Now I initially jump to my usual train of thought which is filled with cynicism and negativity so of course I start thinking he will be just like the men who have been temporarily infatuated with me in the past and then have it all sizzle out in a short while leaving me in a cloud of romantic dust. The thing is everyone has told me what relationships ought to be like and how you ‘should’ behave when things are just beginning but a relationship with Jose is proving to be exactly how I’ve always wanted a relationship to be – don’t hold yourself back, follow your heart and do and say only what feels right.

April 12, 2012 Hours spent on the phone with Jose, a very expensive phone bill for him, an overnight ship off the Island, confusion over my departure time, a missed flight, a night at a Bangkok airport hotel and a 13 hour flight to Madrid and I’m now in my lover’s arms.

April 14, 2014 I’m living a movie romance every day, it’s fabulous. I feel like a beautiful movie star in a black and white film. I’m drinking Spanish coffee everyday and eating tapas and roaming around the city hand in hand with an incredible man who I love...life is good. Yes I love him. I have fallen. I fell in love with Jose somewhere between the moment we met in Chiang Mai to the hours I spent talking to him while I was roaming the stunning Island of Koh Tao. There is just something about him. I see him and he sees me. It’s that simple. It is scary to know I have fallen in love with this man who is potentially all wrong for me. The 15 year age difference is only one aspect that I can see as a potential threat to our relationship. I remember wanting so badly to dismiss what I was feeling for Jose but I couldn’t. I was so torn between listening to my heart and following my mind. I chose my heart.

April 19th, 2012 It shouldn’t be work after only a week of being together should it? I can feel myself walking on egg shells around him the last few days. He has been so stressed about finding a place to live and writing his script and spending enough time with his kids that I just feel like i’m in the way. Did I make a mistake coming here? I can sense myself holding back. I don’t want to ask him the ‘wrong’ question or say something that will make him upset or worse, make him shut down. But really is that any way to be around a new love? No right? But what do I know; I’ve never been in love.

April 20, 2012 Toxic is a word that had popped into my head while we were talking the other day. I think we’re toxic for each other or at least Jose is toxic for me. We don’t make each other better people. We don’t inspire, uplift or encourage each other. We are solely trying to live together as if we have no choice but the truth is we both don’t want to face the fact that what we have, what we had, will eventually end. I can feel this invisible wall between us that neither of us can penetrate. I think it’s all our differences piled on top of one another; 15 years of life experience between us, our backgrounds, language and culture differences, where we are in our lives, our goals, dreams...I can feel the tension around Jose and I want to be able to brush it away but I’m not able to. It’s too thick and dark. I don’t know how to get back to the effortless comfort we had in Chiang Mai. I want to feel like I’m floating again as oppose to being trapped in the shadow of a dark cloud.

April 21, 2012 When people say love is blind do they mean you’re blinded by the other’s flaws? Do you put up with the hurt, confusion and anger just because all you see is that you love the person who is making you feel that way? I never asked to be in love and I’m in love and it’s not what I expected. I thought it would be fireworks and sunshine all the time and to be honest sometimes it is. But what happened to the Hollywood movie romance that was there in the beginning? Is it that my expectations are too high or is it that I’m trying too hard when we both know the cracks that have surfaced are just too deep to patch up? We’re worlds apart but at the same time when I look him in the eye I know we’re the same.

April 22, 2012 – 7:50am I’m leaving Madrid. It’s over. Tears are rolling down my cheeks as I stand in the security check point at Madrid’s airport. Jose blows me a kiss from afar and then he’s gone. I feel empty. All those initial thoughts and fears I had of having our relationship end so soon come flooding back. I feel lost but there’s a tinge of relief and this feeling surprises me. I feel as though a kind of heaviness I had been carrying on my shoulders has been lifted. I no longer have to worry about saying or doing the wrong thing because Jose would, as usual, misunderstand me – ‘Lost in Translation’ is no longer just a movie title to me; I totally get it. Jose and I are in different places in life. I’m on a self discovering journey around the world and have no 'real' responsibilities. He’s tied down to Madrid while I’m a free bird who doesn’t want to be caged up. But despite all this, I still want him, I still love him. 9:00am I get on a plane, see Madrid get smaller and smaller as we climb into the sky and I say a quiet good-bye to the beautiful city I never did appreciate. I rest my head back and let the tears fall.


April 22, 2012 – 9:10am I’m in London. I’m tired, confused and sad. I look around the airport arrivals and don’t see my sister. Did I tell her the right time and airport? But then I hear her voice and a little man’s, I turn around and spot her with my 3-year-old nephew, Adrian. A wide smile spreads across my face. I will be okay...for now.

April 23, 2012 The thing is I understand why it didn’t work. We had too many differences. But somehow I naively believed all we needed was love to make it work. I guess I’m more of a romantic than I thought. But despite our differences, I wanted it to work so badly. There were moments when I’d look at Jose and fill up with joy. I was so happy with him at times but then when things were bad, I felt terrible, worthless. What hurts the most is that I can’t stop thinking of the amazing moments we shared when I felt like I was on top of the world and all needed in life was Jose and his love. It’s painful to know it’s all over.

April 23, 2012 The past 2 and half weeks are a blur. I’ve been in 3 countries in less than 3 weeks- no wonder. I can still almost feel the Bangkok heat as I roamed Kao San road waiting for the next 24 hours to pass quickly so I could finally get on that flight to Madrid. How did I go from being ‘Independent Puja travelling on her own around South East Asia’ to ‘Puja in love and flying half way around the world to meet a man she had only spent 2 days with?’

May 05, 2012 It’s touch and go. Some days I wake up feeling refreshed and strong and others I wake up restless and flashes of times spent with Jose. They, the great relationship experts, say breaking up with a loved one is like grieving a death of a loved one. You go through all the stages of grief; denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I think I’m hovering somewhere between depression and acceptance. I’m numb about the relationship as I listen to ‘our song’, Blower’s Daughter by Damien Rice, and I’m not sure I have fully accepted that it’s really over.

May 08, 2012 We have facebook messaged and I know it’s not healthy for me. I tell myself, and others, that we can be friends, that it’s fine, that I’m getting over him but I think messaging him is making it that much more difficult to let him go. It’s too soon. I’ve already asked him the forbidden question: “Why didn’t it work?” In my defense, it was a particularly hard day. He of course didn’t know how to respond or perhaps didn’t want to hurt my feelings so didn’t respond. I was left checking my email every hour to make sure there wasn’t a message from Jose. I’ve become THAT girl: The woman who has regressed to being a teenage. Jose finally messaged back saying it was all too much at once. Between his kids, his ex, finding work, finding a home, our age and culture differences , he didn’t know how to cope with it all – well he didn’t use the word ‘cope’ that’s my word. I feel like an idiot. How could I have let my head float in the clouds? I should have seen all this before I jumped on a plane to fly half way around the world. Actually why didn't he think of all this before hand? 

May 11, 2012 I fell asleep thinking of Jose and I wake up seeing his face. Ugh, seriously when I am going to stop thinking about this man!

May 14, 2012 I’m happy to report I’m making progress. I only think of him 30% of the time as oppose to 80!

May 17, 2012 I found a slip of paper in my wallet today that describes my future for the next 5 years according to Jose. We are to adopt two children by the end of 2013; 2014 we will adopt one child- either Spanish, Indian or Canadian; 2015 we’ll adopt another two ; 2016 one child from Spain, India or Canada; 2017 we’ll adopt two more. We’d have adopted 8 in total and including Jose’s 3 we would have a total of 11 children; Jose’s favourite number. I remember him jotting this all down on a scrap paper while we were sitting in a cute little cafe in Chiang Mai. It was warm out. I felt great but was also beginning to realize I wasn’t ready to say good-bye to this crazy Spanish.

Jose's life plan for us - signed by both of us

I watched him eat his sandwich as I sipped my coffee and wondered if the last couple of days had just been a dream because they sure as hell felt like it. It was an effort not to jump across the table and kiss him as he spoke of ‘our’ future. I laughed off his silliness but deep down I wanted part of it to be true; the part where we’d be together for at least 5 years, sharing our lives. I wanted this man to be mine but I knew it wasn’t going to happen. ‘This is only an amazing fling, Puja. You’ll have a great story to tell your friends in less than 24 hours once it’s over.’ is what I kept telling myself, what I HAD to keep telling myself to keep sane. I knew even then, we were just too different. We are two different creatures from two very different worlds who had come together under unusual circumstances and in the beauty and serenity of Chiang Mai the nuttiness of it all made sense but how could it work in the real world? I know the answer to that one. So I’m not sure why I took a picture of the slip of paper and emailed it to him with the subject line reading ‘What I found in my wallet the other day’ I gave in under a vulnerable moment and I know now I should never have sent that email. What kind of response was I expecting? Did I want him to say he still thinks about me and misses me every day and wants me back? Well yes that would be great actually, or would it? But I know, I sooooo know that is not going to happen now or in the near future or even in the future, future. Again, a pathetic attempt to get something from him so that I don’t feel like what we shared has been just tossed away.

May 18, 2012 It’s 2:15am here in London and I’m awake with thoughts of him, AGAIN!

May 21, 2012 Screw love. I’m so over it. Never do I ever want to fall in love again. There’s a reason they call it FALL in love. The ‘falling’ implies a negative connotation. Not fun.

May 23, 2012 I will never, ever forget the moments we shared in Chiang Mai and Madrid when we were both just so gaga over each other. I’ll never forget lying on the beach in Koh Toa, thinking of Jose and grinning. I’ll never forget my hand wrapped in his. I’ll never forget looking into his eyes and seing the passion I felt mirrored right back at me. I miss him and I know I will for a long time coming. I carry him in my heart.