It's my first morning back in the States and I’m struggling with the first of many catatonic zombie mind frames to come. I head for a coffee house. Two chais – nothing like yummy gingery Indian street chai – and one almond croissant. And the cost? $14. 

I nearly had an Indian cow right there in front of the barista. That’s about 680 Rupees - enough for a night’s stay on the Ganges in Rishikesh! Or dinner for an entire week! Ack! And yummy gingery Indian street chai is only six rupees (about .12 cents), and it tastes like Kṛṣṇa made it himself.

Later, I go meet my girlfriend for drinks. I stare into space.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

I don't know how to answer.

“Better Safe Than Sorry” India Style

About halfway through my seven-week sojourn in India, I thought I felt a lump in my left breast. There’s an Ayurvedic college up the road that offers complementary visits, and the sweet-faced sari-bundled doctor felt something. She recommended a mammogram, and since the hospital accepts walk-ins, I grabbed a friend and hopped in a rickshaw.

At the hospital front desk I had to prepay 1,700 rupees (about $34.50). No kidding. The exam room is anything but cozy, but I’m completely okay with this because I just paid 1,700 rupees and, after all, mammograms are anything but cozy. Because my breast tissue is dense (fibrous) the mammogram was inconclusive, the doctor suggested a sonogram. Uh-oh.

“How much does that cost?” I asked.

She explained that because the test was inconclusive the sonogram is “complimentary”. No kidding. Complimentary! 

Fortunately, the sonogram proved I’m in the clear and I walked out of the hospital with a folder containing my exam results and guess what else? My x-ray film. 

“Better Safe Than Sorry” USA Style

Yesterday I noticed one of my teeth felt a little sensitive and that my gums under the tooth felt a little swollen and looked red. Before I left for India I was told by my new dentist that one of my fillings might be loose. I figured I’d better call my old dentist who has since joined a dental group.

The woman on the phone asked me if I’d like to make an appointment this week. I agree, and she asks me some preliminary questions. I explain that before I left for India…

“India?" she interjects. "Oh, well it might be infected. We can get you in today. Can you be here in a half an hour?”

I'm greeted by the woman on the phone - the Service Advisor for the dental office. I’m shuffled through at least ten dentist chair bays for an office with three dentists. No kidding. The hygienist examines me. Inconclusive. Time for the x-ray. Why didn’t I ask how much this cost like I did in India? Don’t ask because I don’t know.

The dentist examines me, and it turns out I'm fine. I probably ate something that irritated it. The cost - $140. Did I walk out with the x-ray? What do you think?

Freedom From Fear

I spent seven weeks in a country filled with people who aren’t obsessed with feeling safe. In India, “safe” is a feeling that can be provided by selling reality. In the USA, “safe” is a business opportunity marketed by the feeling of fear. I’m not a breast or a tooth expert, but when I get a mammogram or a tooth check that’s what I’m paying for. Expertise. Not perfection. Perfection – something that doesn’t exist – is how insurance companies and lawyers get involved. Because our weird culture expects perfection. And don’t forget cozy. And if I don’t get it all I can sue. Because I’ve been brainwashed into believing perfection exists. And it’s owed to me. Dammit.

Kayaking on the Ganges

When I was presented with an opportunity to kayak on the Ganges in the yoga capital of the world I felt extremely grateful for my summer kayak lessons on the Potomac. When I walked into De-N-Ascent in Rishikesh I was flocked by handsome, free-spirited young men whose eyes swam with a mix of serenity and adventure. They didn’t view me as a giant walking rupee nor as a weird-looking foreigner. What they saw was a walking opportunity to get on the river in the off-season. Sweet.

They asked me about my kayak experience, which amounted to a single summer of lessons. My guide, who goes by the name AP, explained that we’re going to do 26k with Class III+ rapids. Class III+? Uh, is there a shorter one? 14k with class II. I picked that one. Little did I know it wasn’t up to me. As we approach the Golf Course rapids - and keep in mind if you watch the video I was in a kayak, not a raft with eight people - he explains that I’ll be fine.

I swam some. That means I went under - sealed in my kayak! In class III rapids! More than once! And my guide? He was on it. Both times AP grabbed my kayak and turned me upright. As much as I loved my kayak instructors in DC they weren’t anywhere near as “on it” as this kid. Safe for me that day on the Ganges was not just a feeling. It was a reality.

AP warned me about the Golf Course rapids before we approached. When I saw them I said, "No way," and walked my boat over the rocks. I later told him I would be fine if he doesn't fill my head with fear. So, he said nothing before we found the next rapid - known cheerfully as "The Wall".

It's a wall of rock and I'm heading straight for it. Expletives fly. 

Soon, we're out of it and high-fiving each other. Apparently the Golf Course is Class III and The Wall is Class IV . That's right. No fear = No swimming. Awesome.

I'd Make A Lousy Jedi

In the movie Star Wars Yoda told Luke: “Adventure? Excitement? A Jedi craves not these things.” And I’m no Jedi. I’m a yogi who digs thrills. On the spectrum of safe-to-reckless I swing toward crazy, but all journeys end and now I'll be paying attention to being home in the good ol' expensive US of A.