LITMIR.BIZ

      a street in Varanasi

      The seed was planted for this trip in 1991 when I read a book titled Old Path White Clouds: Walking in the Footsteps of the Buddha by the wonderful Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hanh. I read the book in preparation for the essay I was writing for my Buddhism Quintych, the first installment of the Designs of Faith Project. This sensitive, poetic biography of the historical Buddha rekindled the love of Buddhism that had been lit in my graduate school days and set me on a path of a more active lay Buddhist and student of the teachings of Thich Nhat Hanh. It also stimulated a sincere and lasting desire to visit the sites in India and Nepal where the primary events of the Buddha’s life took place.

      Another event took place in 1992 that was to influence my decision to make this trip. In that year I researched and did a series of paintings based on Lakota and Dakota animal wisdom stories. At that time I was aware of the Jakata tales tradition in Buddhism in which the Buddha’s previous lives as animals were told. I knew at that time I wanted to produce a series of Buddhist animal wisdom story paintings based on the Jataka tales. That project concept was put on the back burner as I was at work on the Designs of Faith Project until late 1998 and then needed one more year to finish the Elders of the Benedictines Project which was also under way. At the end of 1999 the time was finally right to come back to my idea of the Buddhist animal stories. December and January are considered prime months to travel in India to avoid the heat and rain so I chose to fit the trip between semesters. I financed the trip by saving exhibition and lecture fees from my other projects and I also received the Terence Brown Memorial Art Travel Award from the Northern State University Foundation.

      My decision to travel alone was partially financial but primarily because I had no idea what I was getting myself into and I didn’t want someone else to suffer due to my inexperience. I began researching and planning a full year in advance. I read up on India and bought books that gave “insider” information on traveling there. I found one that I particularly liked that dealt with budget travel. I used the Summer months of 1999 to do extensive research on Jataka tales and amassed more than 60 that I thought had potential. In some cases I found up to five different versions of one story which was very valuable to me because my plans were to rewrite and fuse different versions of these traditional stories and put them into a common American voice. I booked my flight in the late Summer wanting to be sure of a seat during the anticipated heavy traffic of the millennium celebration. The Fall and Winter saw increased planning with the evolution of a detailed itinerary following the Buddhist pilgrimage path. I planned to have my three week journey take me to the following sites: Lumbini, Nepal, the site of the Buddha’s birth; Bodh Gaya, India, the site of Buddha’s enlightenment and home of the great Bodhi tree; Rajgar, Vaishai, Sravasti, all famous teaching sites of the Buddha; Nalanada, site of an ancient Buddhist complex of universities and monasteries; Kushinagar, the site of the Buddha’s death; Varanasi, one of greatest and most ancient Hindu holy cities; and Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. I attempted to do some long-distance calling to reserve rooms but with poor results — except one reservation made in Bodh Gaya. I decided to “wing it” and be adventurous. I took care to “outfit” for the trip, purchasing a first-aid kit, mosquito repellent, medicines and so on. I had a series of eight vaccinations for various illnesses I might come in contact with in India. I also decided that I would paint on the trip as well, doing quick watercolor sketches on site. This was a fresh idea for me. During the 1980s I had done a few nature studies while traveling but never scenic sketching. I ordered a little compact watercolor set and a half dozen 9” X 12” watercolor blocks.

      I became more and more excited – and nervous – as my departure date approached. This was quite a jump for my very first overseas trip. Many of my friends, not to mention my family, voiced concerns about my safety. I was not really too concerned. I thought the annual trip I take to New York City was probably more dangerous — or a trip to the Black Hills in the winter for that matter. The only time the danger factor sunk in was when I asked our wonderful secretary in the art department, Mary, what I needed to sign before I left. She gave me one blank form and said to sign the bottom, “Just in case you don’t come back.” Mary is efficient. As the planning for this trip progressed it clearly developed a number of overlapping dimensions. First, it was to be pilgrimage to the sites of the Buddha where the great teachings developed, in hope of deepening my understanding and compassion. Second, it was to be a research trip to gather as much information as possible on Jataka tales and also gather visual information that would be of help in composing the eventual paintings. Third, it was to be a painting trip to do quick watercolor sketches to express my aesthetic impression of my experience. Fourth, the trip was definitely to be tourism. I would see and experience sites, places, and people foreign to me. Lastly the trip had a teaching dimension to it in that my experiences would be directly applicable to a class I teach called Art, Religions and Values.

      I began the trip with many expectations of what the three weeks could do for me but I was not at all certain what the trip had in store for me.

      Mark W. McGinnis

      2000

      December 26

      child monk with toy gun, Mahabodhi Temple, Bodhgaya

      I am packed the night before and Sammy, my wife, takes me to the airport at 6:30am. We say a anxious goodbye and the flight takes off at 7:00. My schedule takes me to Minneapolis, then to Chicago, from there to Zurich, Switzerland, and finally to Mumbai (or Bombay, as it was known before its fairly recent name change), India. At every airport the televisions are all tuned to CNN and its coverage of the hijacking of an Indian Airlines plane – very disconcerting. For the most part the flight is uneventful but very long. One small event happens in Zurich that would be insignificant were it not for later events. As I stand in front of one of the porcelain fountains in the men’s room with a line of other travelers, in walks a woman airport cleaner as nonchalantly as could be and begins cleaning up around us. This was my first exposure to differences in toilet customs.

      December 27

      rural landscape near Bodhgaya

      After more than 30 hours in planes and airports I arrive in Mumbai. It is a city of 12.5 million people and the only thing I wish to see here is the airport. Before I left Aberdeen my travel agent found out that my first internal flight to Patna had been canceled and she had switched my flight from Sahara Air to Indian Airlines, but Swiss Air would not reissue the ticket until I arrived. When I arrive Swiss Air tells me I am not in their computer for the flight. I protest and they say, “OK.” They say I am on the flight, so off I go to Indian Airlines domestic terminal. At the terminal I find I’m not on the flight I am on a standby list. Indian Airlines is run in a basically 19^th century manner with much hand stamping of things and rude glances. The woman who handles the standby passengers and relegates who will get seats and who will not sits in the center of the counter area. She is surrounded by people yelling, shouting and thrusting their tickets at her for her blessing. Occasionally she looks up at the screaming mob and takes a ticket and stoically looks at it a while and then either blesses it with a seat or thrusts it back at the would-be passenger. I was never blessed and it was the only flight to Patna. I remember the Swiss Airlines agent saying that the Sahara Airline flight had actually not been canceled and possibly I could get a seat there. I ask Indian Airlines to call Sahara Airlines and see if I can get on. They refuse, they cannot call, and I cannot either. I decide to flee this strange place and I gather up my bags and rush out and grab a taxi and ask to be taken to the Sahara Airlines terminal.

      My first inclination that things are not as they should be is when I notice we are in a hotel area and not an airport area. I ask what is going on when the driver pulls up to a kiosk with Sahara Airlines and the names of a bunch of other airlines painted

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