An article about the quite different art of meditation: Sitting on a crazy, loud, colourful, intergalactic Indian bus.
Oh yes, the backpackers. Completely individually they are traveling the country with the Lonely Planet in their hand. They meet outer backpackers in the Blue Lassi Shop in Varanasi, after they have “done” the South. They tell you how amazing everything is, whom they have met and discuss peace and freedom. Yes, I am also guilty.
My mum came to visit me in India and for some days, I am a very normal tourist. This brings advantages and disadvantages. The biggest problem is that I am not a guest anymore, but a pocket full of money.
I am walking through the little settlement, which is situated at the steep slope between the green mountains. Everything here is a little smaller. The streets are so narrow, that no car and no motorbike will be able to drive here. Just children, chicken, goats and straying dogs jump up and down the steps. There is a little smell of burned plastic coming from the unofficial dump at the hillside. Welcome to my microcosm.
click to read in German The ride is dragging on eternally. What has started as a little adventure developed into little torture including hunger and tiredness. I am not at…