Seven More Months On The Road

How does one get itchy feet and is there a cure for the affliction? Short of cement shoes mafia-style?  Finding no way to quell chronic restlessness, I again surrender to this compulsion to roam and see the world for myself. Up close and personal. As it is. Raw and uncensored. Live.

On January 11, I board USAirways to Germany, an airline and country I've come to know well after frequent visits with my daughter and her family in Heidelberg, an hour south of Frankfurt. This will mean five rolicking days with 17-month old grandson Jacob -- he walks! he talks! he laughs! he sings! he's growing up too fast! Skype is wonderful but I can't hug and kiss my MacBook. As sweet as this slab of titanium can be.

Then it's onto British Airways bound for New Delhi with final destination Jaipur, a 50-minute flight from the Indian capital. In this "Pink City," I'll be attending the increasingly famous Jaipur Literature Festival, which welcomes a number of well-known Indian, American and other English-writing authors -- Annie Proulx, J.M. Coetzee and David Remnick, for example -- plus thousands of guests. The four-day event is free of charge, after all, and who could pass that up, especially in a country where storytelling goes back to the beginning of time? Am bracing myself for non-stop entertainment, enlightenment and chaos.

Art Inn Jaipur, a B&B and artist residency, will be my base for about six weeks. Hope to write like a madwoman and produce something of merit. Will also explore Rajasthan and beyond, depending on energy level and ability to rope fellow traveler. Also plan to pick up as much Hindi as that corner of my brain will hold.

First of March, I puddle-jump back to Delhi to begin a month-long stay at the Sanskriti Foundation, a walled artist residency smack in the city. Sanskriti provides three vegetarian meals a day and plenty of space and time to let the creative process flourish. In Jaipur and Delhi, I'll also be reading short fiction by Indian women and may, if lucky, get to meet some of these authors, either at the Festival or elsewhere. Regardless of history, language and culture, we so often tackle the same topics and issues in our work. Not to pigeon-hole women writers, of course, but certain themes are unquestionably universal.

In early April, my photographer friend, Pam Sparks, whom I met at the Babayan residency in central Turkey (so intrepid, she easily puts me to shame), will meet me in Delhi and we'll travel north to Bir, a town by the Himalayan foothills not far from Dharmsala. Bir is also home to The Deer Park Institute where we'll study the 37 practices of a bodhisattva with Tenzin Palmo, an Englishwoman turned Buddhist nun. Meditation, yoga and toodling around that vast region are also on tap. Not convinced I'll take up paragliding, the most popular sport in the area, but, then, should an adventurer refuse an untried opportunity when handed one? Even when said adventurer is petrified of heights, especially when strapped to an aircraft with "no rigid primary structure," as Wikipedia describes it?

Around April 25th, Pam will abandon me for the States and I, if I survive that paragliding experience (knock on wood), will head to Bali for a month's stay at Bali Purnati, an appropriately lush-looking artist residency not far from Ubud. This is where I expect to recuperate from three months in India, continue to write short stories and study the fiction of Indonesian women writers, contemporary and late, while melting in the heat of May.

Late May, I return to Germany for another delightful bout of Jacob and his 'rents plus a switch from tropical wardrobe to attire more suited for the near-Arctic. I'll then migrate north to Reykjavik and one of the many fishing villages tucked into mountain-hugged inlets in northern Iceland. Skagaströnd is home to the Nes Residency, whose lodgings and studios were recently carved out of an old seafood processing plant. I expect to eat my weight in fish and shrimp.

Skagaströnd will be my home for two months, during which I will, because that's all I know how to do, write my shivering little heart out. (I mention shivering rhetorically, of course, because Iceland does not live up to its icy reputation year round. At least that's what they tell me.) I'll also crisscross the island trying to capture its beauty with stills and video. As will I do in India and Indonesia. Now that I sprang for a DSLR, finally giving up on point-and-shoots.

Is it any wonder I'm having trouble sleeping at night? Excitement and fear bracketing similarly intense emotions keep me wide-eyed into the wee hours and challenge my ability to focus on packing a rolling duffel for three seasons. But, as we know, and as Georgia O'Keeffe once so bravely said, "I've been absolutely terrified every moment of my life and I've never let it keep me from doing a single thing that I wanted to do."

Related links:

Art Inn Jaipur
Sanskriti Foundation
Deer Park Institute
Bali Purnati
Nes Residency