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    July 05

    Des gens, des styles - On people, on styles

    En voyage on rencontre des gens, c'est d'ailleurs l'un des interets principaux de quitter son cocon douillet pour se casser le dos dans des bus prehistoriques sur des routes cahotiques et se detraquer le bide et ce qui suit en mangeant local.
    Je vais evoquer ici certaines rencontres avec des etrangers, l'Inde etant un vivier absolument incroyable de personnages en quete de soi, de drogues, d'aventures en tous genres. Rencontres sympathiques, histoires amusantes. Je ne parlerai pas ici des locaux, j'y reviendrai. Je ne parlerai pas non plus des gens "normaux", qui n'ont rien d'extraordinaire parait-il, mais il y en a aussi, dormez en paix.

    En 2 semaines ici, j'ai ainsi croise un Francais qui medite le cul dans les rivieres, vieille technique yogi m'a-t-il dit, reprise par Rika Zarai, ca c'est moi qui le dis.
    J'ai bu un verre en compagnie d'un couple d'amis japonais a cote d'une Grecque pour qui nous trois degagions une energie positive, ce qui fait toujours plaisir a entendre.
    Un Ukrainien au savoir encyclopedique, traducteur anglais-russe d'ouvrages de philosophie-meditation indienne et ancien programmeur informaticien (ceci explique cela) a essaye de me convaincre qu'une femme en Inde vit depuis 9 ans sans manger et qu'un maitre yogi a passe 3 semaines sans respirer au fond d'une piscine. Debat impossible. Suis-je trop cartesien pour ne point y croire? Je suis perplexe.
    Une Allemande sort a peine d'une semaine de meditation silencieuse, activite populaire dans le coin: vous effectuez une retraite de 6-7 jours sans dire un mot, apprenez a mediter tout en mangeant tres tres leger. A mon avis, soit vous apprenez beaucoup sur vous, soit vous petez un cable. Dans tous les cas, vous maigrissez.
    Les Israeliens, j'en ai parle, se contentent en general de se regrouper pour fumer et faire la bringue et de faire pleurer les marchands en negociant des prix imbattables.
    Un Americain me presente des excuses vis a vis de son gouvernement (il peut) et d'etre ne dans le Wisconsin. Il n'y est pour rien, le pauvre, et il m'est vite sympathique.
    Un Anglais teste la medecine tibetaine pour se debarasser de grosses marques noires sous les yeux, genre Samsonite. Il a passe 2 jours avec des sangsues sous les orbites, sans succes.
    Ah, et puis il y a tous ces Occidentaux le crane rase et vetus de rouge / orange qui viennent etudier le boudhisme. Curieusement, autant les moines Tibetains sont souriants et sympathiques, autant les Blancs font la tronche ou prennent un air superieur.

    Question style, on note 3-4 principaux looks: hippie new age, easy rider, moine-nonne et backpacker-trekker, ce dernier etant le moins folklorique bien evidemment.
    Le baba hippie se promene generalement pieds nus, soit volontairement pour etre en symbiose avec Mere Nature, soit parce qu'on lui a pique ses pompes dans le train a mon avis. Il arbore des cheveux sales souvent dreadlockes, une barbe hirsute, pas mal de colliers et bijoux voire des tatouages et piercings. Ses maigres kilos sont caches par d'amples vetements de coton teint qui pendouillent de tous cotes. Le sourire legerement beat est un plus.
    Le biker, souvent Israelien ndlr, est plus branche cuir, forcement, a les cheveux dans le vent et des mouches plein les dents, barbe, criniere et tatouages de rigueur. Il fait rugir son Enfield dans les routes sinueuses et pentues de la region, mais semble passer plus de temps dans les ateliers de reparation.

    N'etant ni tres moto, ni tres yoga, pour des raisons de manque d'equilibre sur 2 roues et de non-flexibilite extreme, et je l'ai dit precedemment preferant siroter un espresso en terrasse plutot qu'ameliorer mon karma en ecoutant Sa Saintete se marrer en discoursant, je fais partie de la categorie backpacker, "bermuda-chemise-chaussuresJesus", et je m'en porte tres bien, merci.



    While travelling, one meets people, and this is one of the main reasons to leave one's comfortable cocoon in order to break one's back in pre-historical buses on chaotic roads and to upset one's stomach and the rest with the local food.
    I will write here about some encounters with foreigners, India being an incredible melting pot of characters in search for their self, drugs, adventures of all types. I will not speak here about the locals but later.
    In 2 weeks here, I crossed the path of a French guy who meditates with his bum in rivers, an old yogi technique he told me, that must freeze one's willy so I think.
    I had a drink with two Japanese friends next to a Greek woman for whom the 3 of us were releasing positive energy, which is always nice to hear.
    A Ukrainian with an encyclopaedia knowledge, translator from English to Russian of Indian philosophy-meditation books and former computer programmer (now this explains a lot), tried to convince me that a woman in India has been living for 9 years without eating, and that a yogi master spent 3 weeks without breathing at the bottom of a pool. Impossible to debate. Am I too Cartesian not to believe him? I am perplexed.
    A German woman just comes out a silent meditation week, a popular activity around here: you go on a 6-7 days retreat without saying a single word, learn how to meditate while eating lightly. For me, either you learn a lot about yourself, or you become insane. In all cases, you lose weight.
    An American apologises for his government (he can) and for being born in Wisconsin. It's not his fault, though, but I immediately find him friendly.
    An English guy tries to get rid of his black marks under his eyes, strong marks I must admit, and wants to test Tibetan medecine. He previously spent two days with leeches below his orbits, without success.
    Israelis, I mentioned them already, are generally happy to smoke and party with their friends, and have shop owners cry when negotiating bottom-low prices.
    Ah, and there are all these Westerners with a shaved head and dressed in red that are here to study buddhism. Curiously enough, while Tibetan monks are smiling and usually friendly, quite a few white people will ignore you or take on a superior air.

    On the style side, there are 3-4 main different looks: new-age hippie, easy rider, monk-nun, and backpacker-trekker, this last one being the least "interesting".
    The hippie person generally walks bare foot, either voluntarily to be in harmony with Mother Nature, or becuase his shoes got stolen in the train, which is what I believe. He shows off not so clean hair usually with dreads, a messy beard, a few kilos of necklaces and jewellery and sometimes tattoos and piercings. His few kilos are hidden by loose dyed cotton clothes that hang on all sides. A slightly goofy smile is a plus.
    The biker, often Israeli, is more into leather, obviously, has his hair in the wind and flies on his teeth, beard, lion hair and tattoos are a must. He has his Royal Enfield roar in the sinuous and steep roads of the area, but seems to spend more time at the mechanics.
    I am not particularly into bikes nor yoga, for reasons of lack of balance on two wheels and extreme un-flexibility. As I have said before I also prefer to sip a cafe at a terrasse rather than improve my karma by listening to His Holiness teachand laugh, I thus belong to the "backpacker-trekker" category, "bermuda - shirt - sandals", and I'm fairly happy about it, thank you.

    Comments (2)

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    Picture of Anonymous
    PEL wrote:
    Salut Pierre


    Dis-nous, ton style a toi c'est plutot moine-trekker, version masculine de Soeur Marie-Therese?

    Merci pour tes aventures.

    Est-ce que tu pourras nous dire precisesement ou tu es sur la carte stp?

    Amicalement

    PEL
    July 12
    Picture of Anonymous
    Sam wrote:
    Oserais-je poluer ton blog de ma prose toute européenne? En effet j'ai lu tes histoires de crachat, d'ukrainien et d'escalades himalayennes et du coup je ne sais pas pourquoi mais je n'ose plus raconter mes dernières péripéties locales. En tous cas merci pour ces histoires et ces découvertes. Continue de nous alimenter en histoires et tel un crachat bien lancé de nous les distiller au compte-goute. J'en bave déjà!
    July 12

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