Tuesday, September 09/08 - Ireland
I would like to re-name Ireland and call it Indraland. Indra is the rain god and appears to be very generous here. Igor and I tackled the early morning shower. My loose-weared lower-robe called a dhoti become drenched and clung to my right leg causing a tear. This is the second dhoti ruined and ripped since walking here nine days ago. I am learning detachment quickly. If it keeps up I'll leave Ireland as a naga baba, a naked renunciant.
Some motorists stop. Their remarks express concern. "Are you broke down?" "Do you want a lift?" "Please pray for me!" "Pray for my father who is in the hospital!"
The local papers in Carlow also gave their time by mid-day when periodic sun and wind made the atmosphere very pleasant. Our back-road trail led us up a mountain where the air was particularly invigorating until Indra became generous again.
I feel blessed with a great team of players Premarnava, always gentle, is a careful driver as a support. Ananta whips up a fabulous pasta. He is also the more out going one. In the evening he went door -to- door making sales of Bhaktivedanta Book Trust literature. He does crack me up at times. He told me of some comments by people on previous door-to-door ventures.
"I'm a monk!" he said
"Oh! What denomination?" asked the man at his door
" A wet one!" he burst out. The home owner ended up taking several books out of the jovial nature of Ananta.
Another time he approached an English woman after knocking on her door.
" I'm a monk and I ..."
She cut him off. In a tight upper-lip tone she said " Well, be a monk somewhere else! it took Ananta several house calls before he recovered from that. A monk must be prepared to take some punches.