Burning Feet
After her farewell bonfire (my first), Hazel didn't leave Om Beach. In fact, she kept trying to leave for days after, but the forces that be wouldn't let her leave…the time was not yet ripe. Originally from Scotland, she might've been the most free spirit of all of them. She made friends easily, because she was open, charming and true to herself. She followed her heart to the fullest, but not even she knew what her heart desired next. It seemed Hazel did everything on a whim, unwilling or incapable of sticking to any plans beyond the day, least of all her own. Just go with the flow.
Hazel was full of quirky, esoteric knowledge that she loved to share. Among other things, she taught me about elemental breathing exercises, aerial yoga (performed in a hammock) and the mantras associated with chakras.
Two days after I met her, we went for a trip to nearby Half Moon Beach and Paradise Beach. A short hike away, these were common destinations for the people of Om Beach looking for an excursion. There were two ways to walk from Om to Half Moon: the faster inland route through the forest, and the longer scenic route, hugging the rock outcroppings jutting out between the [bays]. It was a gloriously sunny day, and we decided to take the scenic route.
Hazel was full of quirky, esoteric knowledge that she loved to share. Among other things, she taught me about elemental breathing exercises, aerial yoga (performed in a hammock) and the mantras associated with chakras.
Two days after I met her, we went for a trip to nearby Half Moon Beach and Paradise Beach. A short hike away, these were common destinations for the people of Om Beach looking for an excursion. There were two ways to walk from Om to Half Moon: the faster inland route through the forest, and the longer scenic route, hugging the rock outcroppings jutting out between the [bays]. It was a gloriously sunny day, and we decided to take the scenic route.
Hazel ran ahead impulsively, while I followed with Jason and Paul. The latter was himself a curiously interesting guy from Seattle, who organized and led spiritual retreats. He was here on a spiritual retreat himself of sorts, and was full of good stories, especially regarding ayuhuasca. In fact, his ex-girlfriend ended up becoming an ayuhuasca shaman. Both he and Jason opted to embark on the hike without shoes, and I did the same, thinking it would be a pleasant nature walk.
I've been exposed to the barefoot phenomenon before India, but not fully. Children in Bangladesh often wore no shoes, through poverty or habit, but the adults were all properly soled. It was in Varanasi where thousands of Indian pilgrims walked with no shoes through Old City alleys and sandstone embankment alike, utter disregard for hygiene or discomfort. I thought it might be an Indian thing, but then so many of the Australians I met were equally comfortable walking around barefoot, whether on sun-scorched sand or uneven rocky terrain. One girl happily confided in me that her job allowed her to work barefoot, and it had already been five weeks since she touched a pair of shoes!
Walking on the beach barefoot was easy, except when the sun scorched at noon. By now it was mid-afternoon, so I set off on the hike without worry. What I didn't take into account was that the rocks on the hillside were sharp, and baked in the sun all day. I couldn't put any weight on my feet as I walked, it was like walking on coal. I ended up tap dancing all the way through, struggling to catch up to the my fellow trekkers. They didn't seem bothered at all, having clearly spent a lot more time barefoot and outdoors. I didn't have the calluses built up, and but tried to hide the pain under a calm demeanor.
It was at this moment that I felt a long way from Hong Kong, where colorful sneakers and fancy leather shoes were the norm. People rarely left their houses in flip flops, let alone walk around barefoot.
We rounded the hill, and the other guys thankfully stopped for a quick break. I followed their gaze and spied a school of dolphins in the water, playfully leaping through the waves. As far as the eye could see was the wide expanse of the Indian Ocean, making it seem like the dolphins owned these parts. There were no boats in the water and no human dwellings in sight, and it was like we'd fully returned to nature.
A little too close to nature, as the raw earth burned my feet.
A strange and unexpected thing happened.
A little too close to nature, as the raw earth burned my feet.
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| Photo by Jason Burrows |
Waves and Eternal Sound
My feet were almost numb by the time we made it to Half Moon, and it was a welcome relief. Meeting up with Hazel and some other friends, we frolicked in the waters for a time and enjoyed the warm afternoon. I climbed up onto a tall, black rock formation at the edge of the beach to watch the waves. The tide here came in differently from Om. Whether due to the contours of the shore or some other unknown reason, the waves avoided a specific patch of sand, washing over all the land around it in a horseshoe shape until the last moment. After watching this way for awhile, I climbed down to sit on that patch of sand and meditate. The sun was bright, the waves were nourishing, and the wind tickled my face as I channeled the energies around me.
Half Moon Beach was much smaller than Om and there was only one place for lodging, The Dolphin View. Hazel had stayed a few weeks there, and wanted to say her goodbyes to the staff there before the season ended. The word 'stay' was used rather loosely, because she didn't actually pay for a room. Instead, the staff let her string up her hammock in a clove of trees, and in this way she enjoyed the surroundings for free. She carried several hammocks with her wherever she went, allowing her to teach aerial yoga and sleep anywhere.
Hazel wanted to show us the place where she used to teach yoga. It was an [unusual] hollow structure at the back of Dolphin View, with an odd round shape and made of a brown clay type material that resembled paper mâché. The walls and roof of the structure were smooth and sculpted to end in wide holes that served as windows and wind tunnels. If anything, it resembled a summertime igloo. The inside was open space, no furniture. The five of us stood inside the igloo for a few minutes, looking around and exploring the space, feeling the wind come in and peering through the windows.
Half Moon Beach was much smaller than Om and there was only one place for lodging, The Dolphin View. Hazel had stayed a few weeks there, and wanted to say her goodbyes to the staff there before the season ended. The word 'stay' was used rather loosely, because she didn't actually pay for a room. Instead, the staff let her string up her hammock in a clove of trees, and in this way she enjoyed the surroundings for free. She carried several hammocks with her wherever she went, allowing her to teach aerial yoga and sleep anywhere.
Hazel wanted to show us the place where she used to teach yoga. It was an [unusual] hollow structure at the back of Dolphin View, with an odd round shape and made of a brown clay type material that resembled paper mâché. The walls and roof of the structure were smooth and sculpted to end in wide holes that served as windows and wind tunnels. If anything, it resembled a summertime igloo. The inside was open space, no furniture. The five of us stood inside the igloo for a few minutes, looking around and exploring the space, feeling the wind come in and peering through the windows.
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| Photo by Harry Peronius |
We all came back into the middle of the open space and stood together. Suddenly, one of us started chanting "Ommmmmmmmmmm." The acoustics of the structure were resounding, and the note reverberated from all directions. Without a word, the rest of us joined in the mantra, chanting the Om syllable from the depths of our bellies until we ran out of breath, pausing only to inhale before chanting Om again. Our voices melted into a potent, uplifting chorus and the effect was powerful. I closed my eyes and felt the energy surging around the room, coursing through my body and reaching the core of my being. My awareness heightened and blurred at the same time, and for a moment it felt like the five of us were one, that we had somehow joined together to become more than ourselves.
Time passed as we continued to be consumed by the resonance of the mystical mantra. When we stopped chanting and opened our eyes, we smiling at each other in understanding. The experience was too profound for words, and we walked back to the beach in silence. The vibrations were still inside of me, tingling my skin and through my feet with each step. It was as if I'd come out of a deep trance, unsure of my senses and grasping at some truth I was certain of, just moments earlier.
I really wanted to venture onwards to Paradise Beach. The name of the place was enticing, and it was completely secluded, with no formal accommodation whatsoever. I heard there were hippies living in the woods out there, and was curious to see what they looked like and how they lived. But light was falling fast, and it was too dangerous to scale the rocks between Half Moon and Paradise after dark. So as the sun set, I headed back to Om Beach with a twinge of regret.
Time passed as we continued to be consumed by the resonance of the mystical mantra. When we stopped chanting and opened our eyes, we smiling at each other in understanding. The experience was too profound for words, and we walked back to the beach in silence. The vibrations were still inside of me, tingling my skin and through my feet with each step. It was as if I'd come out of a deep trance, unsure of my senses and grasping at some truth I was certain of, just moments earlier.
I really wanted to venture onwards to Paradise Beach. The name of the place was enticing, and it was completely secluded, with no formal accommodation whatsoever. I heard there were hippies living in the woods out there, and was curious to see what they looked like and how they lived. But light was falling fast, and it was too dangerous to scale the rocks between Half Moon and Paradise after dark. So as the sun set, I headed back to Om Beach with a twinge of regret.
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| Photo by Harry Peronius |
Old Man Ottawa
He often sat alone at Rasta Café, looking out to sea and lost in thought. He would chat with Padmakar and the other staff, but generally kept to himself. His snowy mustache and hair made him look too distinguished to join in the loud beach games.
One evening I engaged him in conversation. His name was Bill and he was from Ottawa, where I was born. A seasoned traveler, he had first come to India in the 1970's, presumably as part of the counterculture movement. Back then, he told me, there was little to no infrastructure at all. Electricity was nonexistent in most parts, and disease was rampant. Travelers and locals alike would get sick at the drop of a dime, and you had to just make do. He made it sound like traveling in the modern day was a walk in the park. Compared to what he's experienced, it probably is.
Bill was turning 60 and looking forward to retirement. He had no children and would sell the house in Ottawa. The way he saw it, him and his wife had ten more solid years of traveling left in them before health became a major concern. There was no way he was going back to the winters of Canada, and in the end they would probably settle somewhere warm and cheap. Panama sounded nice to him.
Traveling for ten years at age 60. What a thought.
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| Photo by Jason Burrows |
Sand Justice
Indians from other parts of Karnataka state would come to Om Beach on the weekends to enjoy the beach as well. These were mostly students, though I did befriend one gent who was a tech entrepreneur, having made himself a small fortune on a company that provided services to telecoms companies.
We would all hang out at bonfires or engage in beach sports, but it was most interesting to note the differences in how the Indians enjoyed the beach compared to the Westerners. First of all, they were much more conservative in their dress. None of the women wore bikinis or swimsuits, and usually entered the water fully clothed. Many men also swam with T-shirts on, reluctant to expose themselves to sun and scrutiny. There was a running joke among the Europeans that Indians couldn't swim; indeed they mostly kept to the shallows, splashing about loudly while accomplishing little. I'm no fish myself, so I kept quiet.
While the Indian men were cautious of Caucasian women, they had no qualms about bothering Indian women on the beach. If an Indian girl went into the water, it wasn't unheard of to see a flock of men run in after her, blurring the line between playfulness and harassment. It infuriated the Western women to no end, accustomed as they were to women's rights and modern feminism.
We would all hang out at bonfires or engage in beach sports, but it was most interesting to note the differences in how the Indians enjoyed the beach compared to the Westerners. First of all, they were much more conservative in their dress. None of the women wore bikinis or swimsuits, and usually entered the water fully clothed. Many men also swam with T-shirts on, reluctant to expose themselves to sun and scrutiny. There was a running joke among the Europeans that Indians couldn't swim; indeed they mostly kept to the shallows, splashing about loudly while accomplishing little. I'm no fish myself, so I kept quiet.
While the Indian men were cautious of Caucasian women, they had no qualms about bothering Indian women on the beach. If an Indian girl went into the water, it wasn't unheard of to see a flock of men run in after her, blurring the line between playfulness and harassment. It infuriated the Western women to no end, accustomed as they were to women's rights and modern feminism.
On one occasion, a pair of Indian girls were minding their business lounging on the beach, drawing unwanted attention from a group of young and eager Indian guys. As we watched the scene unfold, the women rejected their repeated advances. Undeterred, they kept moving in closer and badgering the poor girls, prompting Padmakar to shout a warning from the café. This was also ignored, and in the flash of an eye, Padmakar dashed across the twenty yards or so to the group and launched a fist at one of the guys. The rest of the guys jumped up, but before they could retaliate, the manager of Nirvana Café next door ran out as well, swinging wildly with a stick. The sudden and swift justice was so severe, it had the boys running boys off in shame.
We applauded Padmakar as he walked back, but he brushed it off as no big deal. Just another incidence of problem solving in India.
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| Don't mess with the Padmakar Photo by Jason Burrows |
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| Shiva's amused face in the sand Photo by Jason Burrows |
