Gabe, Jon, Me and the Bodhi Tree

When we arrived in Bodh Gaya, the sun had not yet risen and we were delirious from exhaustion. We were freezing cold, wrapped in layered clothes that were made for much warmer climates. None of us prepared for the Indian winter. The train ride was an entertaining one. Smurf blue, vinyl beds. The three of us had the top bunks. At each stop, men came on selling chai, chips and chains-to chain yourself to your belongings while you slept. Really comforting. We received curious glances from fellow travelers-we were the only westerners on our train, or at least in the 3rd class compartment of the train. After a short time, the three of us fell asleep and drifted in and out for the next 8 hours. We woke up to find that all our stuff was in tact and we were only a half hour from our destination. The rickshaw ride from Gaya to Bodh Gaya had the three of us huddled together under one small blanket, trying to get warm. We traveled in the dark of the early morning, down a long, desolate highway, sharing the road with little other than military looking vehicles. When we arrived at the Root Institute, it was too early and they had not yet opened. So Gabe and I decided to walk into town as the sun was rising, while a sickly Jon stayed back and drank Chai. We wandered aimlessly, following the sun, down a small corridor. Bricks layed with cowshit as adhesive, various farm animals walked freely, cutting us off from time to time. We came to a path in a mustard field that gave us a postcard worthy view of the sunrise. This is the India we had imagined. Rural, colorful and aweinspiring.

We stopped when we heard "hello." It was a young Indian girl. We replied "Good Morning." She invited us to her home for Chai. We followed her to a cement, thatched roof house that looked out at the sun and the mustard fields. She patted a table, inviting us to sit down. We did and shortly after, we were surrounded by her father and her three siblings-two brothers and one sister. They were all getting ready for school. We had caught them at breakfast time. The youngest sister brought us tea and a sweet carrot dish. Followed by home made chapatis. We were stuffed after two, but forced down a third to be polite. Incredible hospitality. We were joined by the grandfather, a "small farmer," and though our communication was limited by the language barrier, his face was so expressive that speaking was hardly necessary. We saw the children off to school and sat with the grandfather until it was time for us to check in.

The Root Institute is a Buddhist retreat located just outside of town. Tibetan flags hang over a large statue of Buddha that sits in the middle of the courtyard. The only sounds are birds and the occasional chime of the prayer bell. We spent the next few days in meditation classes. On our second day, our instructor, Annette, said we should walk to the Stupa to do our morning meditation. We met her at 6:00am, bundled in blankets, and began our walk. I don't think I will ever get used to the vision of girls in beautifully ornate, tangerine, and fuscia colored saris, squatting in the dust fields just off the path to relieve themselves. We followed Annette, unsure of what the Stupa meant. I assumed it was some viewpoint to meditate with the rising sun. We walked through garbage-littered fields and small villages. After about 15 minutes, we arrived at our destination. Annette laid yoga mats and pillows on the ground for our use. We were sitting under the Bodhi Tree, a descenent to the original tree that Buddha had reached enlightenment under. That is where we had our morning meditation. It was a surreal experience. We spent the remainder of our time there relaxing and preparing ourselves for some rigorous travel.

On our second to last night, Gabe and I returned to the home of the family we had met the first day. They gave us sugar cane and potatoes with salt as we sat and exchanged hindi and English words. They invited us to return for dinner. So we returned with Jon in tow. They had cleared a spot on two beds for us to sit for dinner. We were joined by the entire family, except the father and were fed a real, Indian, home-cooked meal. Potato filled pancakes, sweet carrots and tomato salsa followed by sweet rice. It was my favorite meal in India so far. It was an unforgettable way to spend our final night in Bodh Gaya. We were blown away by their extreme hospitality to near strangers. We continue to experience unconditional kindness and hospitality at every stop.

Our next stop is the Holy City of Varanasi.