Solitude, Hendrix and the inevitable truth of home-coming

So I am on my own in treeplanting man David A. Nagel's house. It's nice in a way except that in the evenings I keep thinking that a leopard will appear out of nowhere while I'm enjoying my last evening fag. Damn Rom Whitaker and his "leopard-in-the-area-mauling" stories. David had to leave for various reasons about a week ago. For one I think he was seriously needing to go on holidays, I often forget that he's actually an older guy because he's so cool, but secondly, this business with the grumpy Tamil men apparently became too much for him to handle so he was advised to take a few weeks of time out of Auroville. As I said though, Auroville Security are on the case and there's nothing to worry about.

Bye Nino!

Meanwhile David's brother Larry has been looking after me making sure that everything is a-okay. We share the same fervent interest in classical american and british rock music, so most evenings in Aurodam are spent listening to fantastic playlists featuring Jimi Hendrix, Bob Dylan, Tom Waits, Van Morrison, the everlasting Beatles and so on. Once the sun sets it's begun to get quite cold, and I don't know if it's simply a seasonal change (because it is wanter after all despite the 35 degrees) or if I'm just getting used to the heat. Give me another month here and maybe I'll be able to wear jeans and a sweater just like the Indians.

I get up at around 7 a.m. every morning now, which is a nice change after the long mornings of the last week. The electricity doesn't come on until 8 o'clock, so I'll scramble around the bedroom in the feeble light from the first few rays of sunlight glinting through the canopy. Black trousers and a black top. Hair in a ponytail. Bindi on as always. The gas works, so I make myself some porridge with forest honey and organic dates. Maybe I'll have a slice of sourdough whole-wheat bread with organic crunchy peanutbutter and a slab of honey too. In the dusky light I lead the shit bike I'm using out from the gate, shut the gate, and cycle away in the cool morning, bouncing along muddy red roads. In the morning things are always rather quiet, I find. One or two mopeds swing by with somebody on their way to work, and of course, the temple music from the village can be heard all over Auroville from 4 a.m. in the morning. On the main road I'll meet all the Tamil workers making their way via foot or bike from the surrounding villages.

Mmm... breakfast...

Crash. Bump. Shriek.

The road to Solitude Farm where I work in the mornings is really not more than the simplest of paths, but interesting because it includes all elements from pointy rocks that make you topple over, to sand that causes mopeds to swerve dangerously , too roots and grass, but when it rains all this becomes one fantastic dangerous mess of mud and quicksand.

Solitude Farm is a so-called nature farm working on the principles of this Japanese guy whose name I obviously can't recall right now.

The farmers at Solitude have enormous faith in the restorative and caring forces of the earth, meaning that when they farm they try to do as little as possible in a sense. An example of this idea is that they do not plow e.g. They believe that plowing is better to avoid because it forces all the nutrients up in a very unnatural way. So instead of plowing they focus more on making soil beds for the crops in stead of tearing up the earth. They make use of compost fertilisers, but in the future hope that the soil will have recuperated enough from the days of desert and deforestation that there will be no need of any kind of fertiliser. The Solitude farmers leave a lot of the farm up to nature itself. The vegetable garden is becoming a jungle, which is what they want, and everything from peanuts to papaya, banana and mango trees grow in the forest behind the farm.

The produce is quite remarkable though. At Solitude Restaurant they serve all organic, mostly locally produced vegetarian lunches, and twice a week they also do their extremely popular vegetarian sushi evenings and I must say, it's some of the best food I've ever had, and this is not only because the cook is terrific, and she is, but the vegetables farmed at Solitude are truly first class. Working there is exceedingly pleasant, albeit very exhausting. It reminds me once again how important this connection with the earth is to me, and also how much I've missed farm work without realising it. My Solitude hours are between 8 a.m. till lunchtime at around midday. All volunteers get to enjoy a lovely lunch prepared for us.

On a different note I feel like I am playing the "how-tanned-can-Amanda-get" game again. Surely I can't become more tanned than I already am, because this is starting to get a bit crazy. The long hours in the sun probably add to my exhaustion in the afternoon, but I know how far too push myself and I do enjoy the soreness of my muscles when I wake up in the morning. Makes me feel like I'm alive.

I didn't get a train ticket by the way. It's all full as always. Instead I shall enjoy Stupid Crazy Bustrip no.2. (Remember Brazil-Chile?) It's pretty much the same distance between Chennai-Mumbai, not mentioning that I first need to get to Chennai which is 3 hours away from Auroville. So I'll be leaving Auroville on the 1st of February, evening, arriving in Mumbai very early on the 3rd. I think the pure discomfort and stress that the journey keeps trying to pry into my mind is part of a general feeling of slight anxiety that's begun to creep into my mind.

This probably has something to do with Nino leaving me on my tiny own, but to a larger extent, the fact that Sweden is starting to work on Sweden time with a Swedish pace, whilst I am still in India on a calm meditative Indian pace. I guess I am simply starting to grasp just how many things are waiting to go on my todo list, or hopefully, my iCal, by the time I get home. And the stressful concept of time has me slightly overwhelmed as I play with the thought of coming home after all this time. (Which isn't very long compared to Nino and Anatoli).

Does it feel like longer because the life I lead in Sweden is so damn hectic and full? Maybe the difference to my life in Sweden compared to India life feels all the greater because of that exact reason. I was working 70 hours a week up until I took off to Switzerland in order to stop working. Of course Switzerland didn't give me much of a vacation either, but a new bundle of stuff to deal with, both good and bad. Now I've been running, or rather, gentle rolling back and forth on India time, with an Indian pace, that the thought of getting back onto the Swedish fast train must be the main source for this anxiety brewing at the bottom of my belly.

I'll just have another fruit juice and a cigarette.