Spiritual Travels

We often say that we want to travel to this or that place, while on holiday, or that we need a break from our routine no matter the destination.But what is it really that makes us choose a particular destination? Is it curiosity for a particular place for which we have heard good reviews and we feel the need to see it for ourselves?Is it an ad offering a cheap vacation package which grasped our attention, or is it an inexplicable drive, an inner passion leading us towards a specific destination once we hear about it?

Should it be the latter, then, yes, one must go where the heart calls, even if it means to wait for the right moment, to gather the money needed and then, to experience the journey of our dreams to the fullest, not just as a tourist, but as a noble man, visiting his beloved. Travelling must be like a sudden love affair taking you to the unknown. An inner drive carrying you away, while you, unable to resist, will joyfully and wilfully abandon yourself to it.

I always remember John Marcovitz‘s words from Bertolucci’s film, the “The Sheltering Sky”. He says: “A tourist is one who has a return ticket in his pocket, a traveller doesn’t know if he is ever going back”. I do not follow such extreme paths, nor do I embrace them, although I must admit that, when travelling, I always keep this saying in mind. And, in fact, there are no guarantees that I will return home each time I leave my house (I travel somewhere).

Life, by definition, is the most exotic and dangerous journey. And, were you to ask a man living up in a mountain, or an elderly woman from a remote village who have never left their home, they will both tell you: “I have witnessed all miracles life has to offer”. We, on the other hand, being children of cement and technology, have different needs. The world around us is shining, like a magical reflection, and attracts us; we find the outside world irresistible. This is a fascinating part of city life.

Gypsy blood must run in my veins, since I have always adored travelling. Maybe because, as a baby, I crossed the Atlantic, getting from Greece to Argentina, where I inhaled, without realizing it, the breeze of different civilizations. And, at the age of ten, when I retuned home on the same boat that took me away years ago, I was able to see new places through my young eyes. Places so different from what I had experienced, that a strange and strong urge was awakened inside of me; an endless need to browse and travel.

When, at the age of 10, you behold Brazil, the Equator, Africa, and countless other, seemingly peculiar to you, places; when you gaze into the wild ocean and its huge waves, forgetting to feel fear; when you cry once reaching your destination, ignoring your grandmother waving her handkerchief joyfully to Piraeus pier, you are either insane or a traveller.

I have travelled all over Europe, and I respect its civilisation and its beauty. It was Asia, however, and specifically India, that captured my heart. India is beautiful, colourful and elegant. It honours hospitality, beauty and, most of all, religion. I was lucky enough to visit almost all of India. I always recommend to friends wanting to visit India to start from Varanasi, its religious heart, and not from Ranzastan, the most touristic destination.

It is in Varanasi where, like a punch, India will be unfolded in front of their eyes, revealing what we, western people, sweep under the carpet. It is there that one can find the substantial meaning of the word holy, the dance between death and life, beauty and ugliness. Should someone be able to perceive all the above with no judgments, he would then recall the knowledge passed on from our own ancient teachers, as well as the meaning of being a true Christian.

Once I asked a humble Indian what religion meant to him, he answered, with no hesitation: “There are many religions, but only one God”. In India, life takes place on the streets. That is its beauty, its true meaning. There is a lot of poverty; it becomes, however, bearable, almost joyful, due to the infinite colours that cover this unique country. Indians have numerous gods that they worship, from glorious to humble temples, that can be found all over their land.

Hinduism has always been a triadic religion, just like ours. Brahma, Visnou, Shiba. In other words, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. All the gods and goddesses that one can find there have originated from this triadic notion, similarly to the saints we worship in our religion. In Vanavasi, the religious heart of Hinduism, there are Islamic mosques, Christian churches, temples of Buddha, all respectfully built and loved, just like our own. The very reason why Hinduism hasn’t changed over millions of years is because India never rejected the religions of its conquerors. It always absorbed them and made them part of it. Therefore, Hinduism has been kept unaltered.

One could say that Indians are old fashioned fatalists, bounded by poverty because of their traditions. I would agree, and yet, disagree, at the same time. India’ s population of almost 2 billion people, is united by those very traditions. Traditions that have been imprinted on their DNA. Traditions are not always good nor useful. Despite, India, having been conquered countless times, is saved due to its dense social web and its religion, regardless of whether they seem old fashioned and irrelevant to some of us nowadays.

Indians, when set free from the British spell in 1947, found themselves unprepared for the fever of economic growth of the world. It is widely known, however, that Indians are bright, and they are eminent in every domain, especially in computers, economy and trade. In addition, lets keep in mind that, after big changes, time is needed for one to adjust. On top of that, why should every country (on earth) imitate the West, after all?

Where would beauty lie without diversion? Where would festive beauty, explosions of colours, hospitality and genuine politeness be found, if not for India? Or imparting knowledge that we lack of?