By Vaikunthaloka das
Introduction by Gaurangi dd:
Even though Vaikunthaloka’s travels do not strictly fit the definition of a padayatra -he sometimes walked but mainly hitchhiked around the island- we decided to share his adventures with the Padayatra website readers since he has spent time on Padayatra India and took advantage of his Cyprus trip to meet priests and spiritually minded people . We can also see Krishna’s hand in his adventures, and that’s always the best part.
Table of Contents:
Part 1: Introduction
–First Day
–Why?
Part 2: Incidents
–Harris
–The Rasta People
–Open, Police!
–The House of Catsor a thousand and one cat.
–Monastery of St. Neophytos
–Five Days of Fasting
Part 3: The Ending
–Four Bullies
–Monastery of St. George the Victorious
–Conclusion
Part 1: Introduction
Hare Krishna! Hi everyone. I want to tell you my funny story about my trip to Cyprus. I will also share my thoughts and discover a little about myself.
First Day 7 April 2018
I got on the train and headed to Moscow to catch my flight to the island of Cyprus.
Outside the window, floating landscapes of forests and fields covered with snow that have not yet melted. It was a long wait in the cold airport for the flight and we landed in the middle of the night. Finally, here it is, the long-awaited Cyprus bathed in the rays of dawn in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea. There below, under the clouds were majestic mountain ranges, the sun rises above the waters’ surface. Beauty…
And here I am, already on the earth and walking along a road somewhere… Backpack strapped to my back, and all around fantastic. Caressed by a warm pleasant breeze, swaying waves of green grass, beautiful flowers everywhere, fragrant and funky aromas…
And along the whole route there were real lemons.
Am I wrong? I taste one…
Yes, real lemons!
Some of them that were already ripe fell off the trees and rolled out on the road, and they got pressed by passing cars!
It was shocking for me to see, in India or in Russia they would all have been collected and eaten long ago, and here they just lie useless, and the cars run them over!
Yes, of course, it’s all great, but what about other fruits that are more suitable for eating???
I’m a fruitarian!
So off I went, to partake in the Holy Name, enjoy the local scenery, inhale the wonderful aromas of flowers, and take a hike searching for OTHER FRUITS.
No luck, the other fruits are not here, and it’s already noon! I decide to head to the city; I will buy fruit there and feed my hungry body.
Less than five minutes of hitchhiking and a young woman stops and kindly invites me for a ride.
And you know what?
It turns out I arrived just in time for Easter, so that means today and tomorrow everything in southern (Greek) Cyprus is closed, including shops and fruit markets!!!
Oh no…
What to do?
I decided to hitchhike towards Northern Cyprus to the turks. You see, they are Muslims, I don’t think they celebrate Easter; it’s amazing because it means they will sell fruit. Hurray!!!
Someone stops again.
It’s an old woman driving the car. She gave me a ride for a few kilometres, and on the way I told her about my fruit incident. She dropped me off, and then went into another direction.
So I am standing on the road hitchhiking again.
With no results.
Well I guess I’ll travel on foot from this city (Larnaca) and walk on the road to Nicosia, there will be a checkpoint to cross over to the Turkish side…
I’m walking, it’s past noon. The sun bakes hot on my body, no water or fruit yet. I chant the Holy Name and pray to Krishna to have mercy on me.
Suddenly, a car pulls up behind me; it’s the same old woman who gave me a ride. She brought me fruit and water (She probably gotthis from her home, because all the markets were closed).
What a surprise.
Thank you, Krishna; thank you, kind woman. One problem solved.
I continue to hitchhike.
An old couple pulled over, and invites me for a ride; they spoke English with heavy accents.
And again everything is great; we travel like the wind and listen to wonderful Greek music. They dropped me off at road that leads to Larnaca.
We said goodbye, I thanked the nice old people for the beautiful music, for the help, I wished them a happy Easter and I went on to catch a ride to Nicosia. They old couple drove off in the other direction.
I spent 15 minutes with many unsuccessful attempts to hitchhike. I prayed hard to the Lord.
O Lord, have mercy on me again!
One car is slowing down, obviously to pick me up.
But isn’t that the couple that just dropped me off?!.
“Sit down,” The old woman says. “We changed our mind and decided to visit our relatives. It’s on the way to Nicosia. We’ll give you a ride.”
“Sit down already!”
Voila, great! Krishna is fulfilling my wishes.
We drove while the magnificent Greek music played for about 50 km.; this is where we had to part.
I got out of the car and for the second time thank these gracious friendly people.
The old man looks at me, and says with his thick English accent, “And the money?!.”
I thought he was asking me for money. And I was beginning to explain to them… as I noticed he pulls out his wallet, discussing in Greek something with his wife and then smiling to me stretches out his arm with 20€!!!
“Well, well?” He asks me.
“Excellent, and thank you.” I praise him in amazement.
One more ride and I’m in Nicosia.
This city greets me with a thunderstorm of heavy rain and hail.
I’m waiting under a small shelter.
And finally, the Sun appears again.
This is a capital city, with many foreigners, especially Turkish people. The border runs somewhere in the middle of this city.
I arrive near the border, and even on the Greek side I saw Turkish people selling fruit.
When I crossed the border to the Turkish side, it became a completely different Cyprus. Everywhere was noisy and aggressive people, vanity. I remember thinking I did not like it here, and I decided to go to the city of Kyrenia.
I took a bus. We crossed the eponymous mountain range of Kyrenia and then I found myself in the city of Kyrenia. The city is beautiful, touristy, and obviously quieter than in the capital.
Here I noticed a few fruit trees growing right next to the sidewalk; I gladly feasted on their ripe fruit… Then I took a walk around the city; the sun began to set, and I needed to find a place to sleep.
Of course, I prepared for the trip. In my backpack there is a small tent, an inflatable mattress, a sleeping bag; all the necessary equipment for autonomous living, even a miniature solar charger to recharge the Smartphone.
I thought, spending the night alone in a tent in the middle of the city was a bad idea, it would be much better somewhere in the mountains of Kyrenia. So, I decided to go to the neighbourhood Guzelyurt, where, according to my research, should have less people; and this is what I need.
The thing is I’m not a city dweller. I grew up in the village and always loved the peace, quiet, and solitude. Therefore, sleeping alone in nature feels natural and comfortable for me.
I spent a long time trying to get out of the city and finding the highway to Guzelyurt. I was getting nowhere. I was trying to hitchhike, was asking people for a ride, and I tried to hear the voice of intuition (I often use it instead of GPS navigation).
And then finally, a huge truck with a concrete mixer stops. To be more precise, he slowed down (because it was on a busy road congested with cars, it was not possible for him to stop). I had to run and jump onto the truck with my backpack and climb into the passenger seat. The driver turned out to be a friendly, simple, and open Turkish guy who did not know a WORD of English. But we immediately find a common language; laughter. We enjoyed the view of the mountains, the view of the setting sun above the sea, and listened to spiritual Turkish music.
During our brief time together on the road, we already managed to somehow get closer to each other, and I did not want to leave. But our paths diverged, and I had to go.
We said goodbye, we wished each other all the best and I don’t expect to meet again in this life…
Now I left the city and am somewhere on the outskirts. I had about half an hour before dark, and I wanted to move farther away from this residential neighbourhood, to sleep somewhere in a deserted place.
Again several unsuccessful hitchhiking attempts. I’m starting to get a little nervous. I see two Africans in a car. I hear a clear voice of INTUITION: “Dance”. I immediately transformed my whole body into some African dance and pointed both my index fingers in the direction of my route. They opened their eyes in amazement, laughed, and stopped.
These good-natured guys drove me a few kilometres. Along the way, one of them tried to buy me a chocolate bar, but I say I only eat fruit. And then he said, “that’s good, that’s right, fruit is healthy food, that’s the way to do it, WELL done!”
I was surprised once again. In Russia, when you say “I only eat fruit”, people say, “Eat meat”. And here in Cyprus they say, “fruit Is good, it’s right, it’s health, well DONE!”
It’s quite dark; I asked them to stop in a deserted place. On one direction I saw vaguely visible, the outlines of the Kyrenia Mountains, in the other direction I heard the sound of the sea, and I was near the olive gardens. Ah, the perfect place to stay for the night! I went to the olive garden, pitched a tent in the light of my headlamp and fell asleep in this quiet dark Cyprus night.
At night it was lightly drizzling, but the tent is securely covered with a waterproof tarp so I slept in peace.
This is how my first day in Cyprus went. It was very active, rich, with amazing company and without much trouble.
Why?
Dear friends, I think it’s time for us to get to know each other better.
Surely, many readers have already had such questions:
“Why did I go to Cyprus?”
“What am I doing here, what is my goal?”
“And why live in such an unusual way”?
I will try to answer these questions.
First, let me tell you about my experience during the winter in Russia from 2017 to 2018. It was not easy for me; it was cold, with poor variety of fruits, and I had experienced psychological issues.
I needed some time alone in nature and preferably somewhere warm and full of fresh fruit. I searched on the Internet and decided that Cyprus was the best place for me.
For the most part, I live in my inner world and have almost zero communication with anyone. This lifestyle is natural for me. Solitude brings me deep satisfaction and happiness. When I am alone, no one distracts me from my inner world, which is a much more diverse place than the outer world.
Last winter in Russia I had no opportunity to relax, which became more and more psychologically straining for me every day. I wanted to immerse myself into my sunny, HUGE, and joyful inner world, but I felt I was not able to do it because of people from the outside. They seemed to drag me into their dark, damp, and cold worlds with eternal problems and dissatisfaction. I had less and less strength to resist…
I had to find privacy; it was just as necessary for my life as air!
There were also many unresolved issues that I had to sit and think about alone.
I work only about three months a year, and this is enough to meet my basic needs and cover travel expenses.
Wildlife on the palms of Mother Earth gives me true happiness, peace, and satisfaction. Fresh air, silence, birds singing, grass, trees, murmurs from the stream, and the sound of the sea – all of this is alive. Cities suck energy and nature gives!
I always try to hitchhike. As a rule, good people stop. And from them you can learn a lot of interesting things. You can also share your experiences and life outlook, find a good friend, and generally speaking; why spend money in vain?!
Basically, Viva LA HITCHHIKING!!!
So I answered some questions of why I went to Cyprus.
If you have any more questions, you can write them in the comments or in a PM, and I will try to answer all of them.
Part 2: Incidents
Earlier I described only my first day in Cyprus. Of course, to write about each day makes no sense. I better tell you about the most exciting events and meetings during this journey.
In the beginning, I travelled around Cyprus a lot. I was hitchhiking and walking. I wanted to go around the entire island of Cyprus. I was interested in seeing how people lived. And I looked for secluded places to stay along the way.
Harris
One day I hitchhiked from Paphos to see the surrounding area of Ayia Napa. Everything was fine, it was a sunny day, I got a few rides from some happy good people. And one of them was Harris. He picked me up on a roundabout near the city of Larnaca. We immediately struck up a conversation. It turned out he was a native Cypriot, lives in Larnaca, and does yoga. I mentioned to him that I was headed to see the area of Famagusta, Protaras and Ayia Napa. Harris decided to change all of his plans for the day and he nobly offered to take me to all of these places. Along the way we stopped in some shops, we talked a lot, and travelled all over this district.
This entire area was very noisy and flooded with tourists. Basically, I didn’t feel too comfortable anywhere.
Harris also offered to take me to visit his friends place. His friend lives in a village in the Troodos Mountains and practices organic farming there. I agreed. We went back to his parents, and then to Limassolso he could take care of some business, and from there went to Troodos…
The Rasta People
There were not many people in the Troodos Mountains, periodically we came across small villages, but mostly just forest, forest, and forest.Of course, very nice, fresh, and green.
By about 6 PM we reached the village of TrisElies, where Harris’s friend lives.
Harris parked his car near Kostos’s house. Kostos runs the agricultural community. We took our things and walked up the stairs to the house. The doors were all open; no one was in the house. Harris tells me, “I know where they are. Let’s go.” We left our things and drove somewhere on the outskirts of the village. There we met by a group of people (including women and children) and Kostos, who was sitting in a chair with his dog and guitar. Everyone was very calm and peaceful. The guys showed me their plantation, talked about their work on the farm, about growing plants, etc. They told me a couple of years ago they became vegetarians. After some time, everyone gathered together to eat a vegetarian meal.
Many people came from different parts of the world (USA, Netherlands, Norway, Israel; I am the first from Russia). (I’ll try to somehow snag their photos from Facebook to show you). They are all volunteers who are interested in organic farming. They work as organic farmers for 5 hours a day for no money! The only benefits are free food and a place to sleep.
The volunteers ate food, talked, sang songs, played various musical instruments, and they started to smoke out of pipes… I caught a whiff of a sweet smell. (I did not immediately realize that they smoke, because I never smoked). They passed around the pipe and offered it to me… I refused. Then some people also begin to drink wine and beer; which I also refused.
Kostos offered me to stay with them and live indefinitely. I politely declined again. There were many reasons I did not want to live there. First of all, I did not like the idea of working 5 hours a day just for food and a roof over my head. The smoking and alcohol do not attract me. And I did not want to preach my philosophy while living under their roof and being dependent on them.
Harris and I went back to the house when it was about 10:00 at night. He looked a little different. I asked, “What did you smoke in there?”
“Marijuana,” said Harris.
Then I understood. These people are rasta. Under the leadership of Kostos they grow marijuana and smoke it themselves. And probably sell it too under the guise of organic farming.
Of course, they do not commit any violence, do not interfere with others, and everyone has the right to choose what to do. But I believe that human life is intended primarily for self-realization, for spiritual enlightenment. And drugs and alcohol interfere with this; distract human consciousness from the spiritual, making it a dependent animal.
Early in the morning, Harris and I left. He needed to do business, and I headed to the city of Polis. All the way I preached to him about the ultimate goal of life, about the will of the Lord, about love and service to people. I told him that there was nothing spiritual about the marijuana, wine, or beer they had consumed yesterday, nor about the music they had played last night. It’s like child’s play.
He agreed about everything. We talked the entire ride back, shared our intimate spiritual experiences, which I cannot tell you here.
Well all right, I’ll just give you a little something.
Harris’s great-grandfather was an archbishop who fought the intervention of the British in Cyprus. Because of that, he was forced to immigrate with his entire family to Israel. They of course, returned.
Another relative of Harris periodically speaks with the elder Father Simeon, who is the abbot of an Orthodox Christian monastery near the town of Larnaca. According to Harris, Father Simeon is a Saint and enjoys universal respect.
This was very interesting for me, but I’ll tell you about it later in a separate Chapter. Until then…
Harris and I said goodbye in Limassol. He told me our conversations were very useful for him, and I should keep in touch.
Open, Police!
I’ll tell you another funny story.
All day I walked in search of a place to stay for a few nights. I was very tired, but I didn’t find anything. The sun had set, and it was dark. It was around 8:00 at night. I decided to head to the beach between Paphos and the airport with the same name. I pitched a tent right on some rounded stones about 10 meters from the sea. Periodically I heard a deafening roar of planes taking off (the airport was only half a kilometre away). And from Paphos I heard a party ship in the sea playing pop music. I was very tired and tried to sleep despite all the noise.
Around 10:00 at night I heard the sound of an engine. A car pulled up close to my tent and lit it up with their headlights.
I’m thinking some uninvited guests have arrived.
A man approached, he banged his hand on the tent and with a demanding a voice loudly said, “Open up, police!”
Of course, I hospitably opened my door to a stranger.
He saw me alone in a sleeping bag and asked in amazement, “What are you doing here?”
– Rest.
– What’s inside?
— Nothing special, my things.
– Okay, Goodnight.
– Good night.
That’s where we said goodbye. The guests had left.
The House of Cats or Thousand and One Cat.
Once I decided to fast for a few days and walk in the Troodos Mountains. My path ran through the monastery of St. Neophytos, near the village of Tala. I started the journey at 6:00in the morning and by about 10:00 in the afternoon I was almost at the monastery when I was stopped by trange sign near the road.
“CAT HOUSE”
Hm, what could it be?
I’ll think I’ll take a look.
As I approached, there were cats, foul smells, and spilled cat food everywhere. I saw cages with bars like inside a zoo. I went inside, and there were HUNDREDS of cats and the hostess came to greet me.
– Hello. It’s a home for underprivileged cats. We give them a new life.
The woman said proudly.
– You feed them meat?
– Certainly. They can’t survive without meat.
– Do you eat meat?
– Yeah.
– What’s the point of killing some animals and saving others?
The hostess didn’t have an answer, just shrugged. There was no point to talk more about it.
People think they’re doing a noble thing, feeding an animal or a human with meat. In fact, they cause unbearable suffering to hundreds of other animals and becoming the cause of their death.
Monastery of St. Neophytos
Well, let’s not talk about sad stuff anymore; let’s go to a monastery nearby.
A very special wide paved road leads to the monastery. Near the entrance is a huge parking lot filled with buses and cars, lots of tourists, stalls with souvenirs, and shiny cafes where these tourists sit and drink beer. Everything is very rich.
Inside the monastery is also full of tourists; everything is clean, rich, and beautiful. I immediately notice that the monastery cells are all locked and there are no priests. (After a while I did see one.)
Near the monastery there are several caves, where once upon a time the Holy Elders spent years in prayer, solitude, and fasting.
Now, everywhere there are scurrying tourists, and at the entrance to the cave sits a cashier, poking at their smartphone and checking tickets (costs 4€ per person).
The government of Cyprus, like many other countries, uses religion as a means to control the masses. Naturally, they invest a lot of money into it. They are not ashamed of earning money from tourists in their temples and monasteries.
A place of little spirit is of little interest to me.
I collect some water (surprisingly it is free there) and go on with my journey.
Troodos is calling me.
5 Days of Fasting
On this first day of my fast I walked 40km.Traveling through the mountainous terrain with my backpack was tough. I constantly prayed and periodically stopped near deserted churches to meditate and get water. It is only possible to walk only on the road because there’s a lot of POISONOUS SNAKES! While walking through the mountains I saw a few snakes and I saw a bunch of snakes that had been crushed by cars.
On the second day I reached an abandoned village.
It’s very logical why villages around here became abandoned. The locals from here went down the mountains to the sea, where there are many tourists, and therefore money. Maybe some old people remained in the village for a while, but after they died the villages remained empty.
By 11:00 in the afternoon I arrived at the gate of the monastery. There were two workers in the yard. There were no tourists at this time. The property, just like the previous day at the monastery of St. Neophytos, was very clean, beautiful, and rich.
I approached a woman who was cleaning and asked, “Where are all the monks?”(There were about 15 cells, all locked up.) She replied that there was none.
Same story, I thought. Huge, expensive, beautiful buildings, and inside only the air.
As usual, I went to the temple to pray and meditate. But just before the entrance I was called by the Abbot of the monastery. (He was the only one monk at this whole multimillion-dollar Christian complex). “Wipe your shoes well on the rug at the entrance to the temple,” he said politely. “I’d rather take them off,” I said humbly. I left my backpack at the entrance and went inside barefoot, as I had done thousands of times in India.
Inside the temple, as always, no soul; everything is arranged in a big way; carpets, expensive icons, surveillance cameras, and excellent acoustics (which I took advantage of). All these saints looked at me from their icons, and I decided to sing them some Vedic mantras. I sang vykladyvaya and kept rhythm with my hands, and then prayed and meditated for some time. I’m sure they liked it, because I did it all from the heart.
In the yard I was again met by the Abbot and called to his monastery garden to taste ripe cherries. I politely declined, I told him I do not want to eat anything, but I will drink some water. He took me to the tap with drinking water. I took one sip, thanked him and went on my way.
On the third day of fasting, it became much harder to walk. But by evening I still reached my goal “Valley of Cedars”.
The large trees cast long shadows in the sunset, cool, quiet. Near the road there is a water tank for visitors. I thought this would make a good place to stay for a couple of days. I put the tent right on the rocks of the dried-up stream. It was a fairly smooth spot, and not near the road.
I spent the fourth day at the same place in the tent. I did not have much energy and it was pretty cold in this valley.
I realized I was fasting in the mountains alone, living in a tent in a cold valley, and without warm clothes. It felt too extreme so I decided to leave this place.
On the fifth day I hitchhiked out of the mountains and through Limassol, back to Paphos Lempa Park, where I was five days ago. In place where my tent was laid my note, untouched: “I’ll come soon.”
Well, it’s time to break the fast. About five in the evening I ate some tangerines and went to rest in the tent.
Fasting is very important for a person striving for perfection. It cleanses the body and spirit. As the house needs regular cleaning, the body also needs periodic fasting.
I try to fast at least one day a week, and sometimes I fast for a few days at a time.
Part 3: The End
I lived for a month and a half in a park called Lempa, which is located 6 km from the city of Paphos. I could hear the noise of the sea one kilometre away. It’s beautiful. (Photo attached.)
I put my tent in the shade of a big branched oak tree. Nearby a stream flowed. It led down to a small waterfall, forming a natural recess which was big enough for my body. In this miraculous pool I often cooled down on hot days. I also regularly bathed in it, washed my clothes, and washed fruits.
Lying in the tent, I always heard the murmur of the stream. Many different birds sang in different voices day and night. The wind blew through the long needles of coniferous trees and turned into a smooth monotonous and soothing song.
The sound of the sea, the lapping of the stream, the singing of birds, and the singing of the wind – all this is alive, all this is constantly surrounding me. It is difficult to express in words the feelings I felt in such an atmosphere. I like it VERY much.
In the same park 70 meters away from me was a family of foxes. Every night, one of the foxes would come to my tent. They liked my avocados, and they would take them from me. So eventually at night I started going to visit the foxes. One fox managed to get used to me and was so bold that he came within a meter to me. I tried to scare him off, I screamed, but he just jumped back, and then he came up again. I thought he just wanted to play with me…
It was such a wonderful atmosphere of peace and quiet, I was doing yoga, asana, pranayama, meditation, and reciting mantras on japa beads. I also did physical exercises (pull-UPS, push-UPS, etc.);I read various spiritual books, studied Bhagavad Gita, and learned languages (Sanskrit, Hindi, and English). Every day until noon I drank only water, and after ate fruits or continued to fast on water.
Along the path near my tent periodically someone passed. It was rare, maybe one or two people a day. They were all surprised to see me. Most people anxiously passed by, some people greeted me, and one person was even interested in talking to me. After I shared a little bit about my life, they shook my hand and said, “I want to live like you! Nice job!”
4 Bullies
One evening I walked along the path near the tent and read the mantra on the rosary. It was 4 days before my departure from Cyprus. Four young men were walking along the same path towards me. One of them, having seen my open tent, got into it and started to rummage in my things. I saw it from a distance. When I came up and asked him, “What are you doing here?” He replied in broken English and became very aggressive and blatantly asked me, “What are YOU doing here,” etc., like I had done something wrong, not him.
It was not wise for me to call the police (under the law of Cyprus I had no right to live in this Park); nor was it wise to fight with them, because in both cases I would have to leave this wonderful place. I just threatened to call the police. Then they still went on and swore at me and threatened me. I never saw them again.
It was hard to forgive them, especially that aggressive guy.
LOVE is the meaning of my life.
It’s hard to love someone who condemns you or is hostile. But only by doing this, you can get true Love and Peace in your soul.
Many people are like the lower animals; they live in ignorance and simply do not know that the Lord created us for Love. In this divine Love is true happiness and is all that we have been looking for!
The Monastery Of St. George the Victorious
To be honest, wherever I went, I always tried to find some spirituality there. In fact, that was the true purpose of my travels.
For many years I had a desire to live in a Christian monastery, to communicate with monks, to look at their lives. And this desire intensified after I learned from Harris about his connections with Father Simeon, the abbot of the Christian monastery.
A few days before my departure from Cyprus, I asked Harris about it. And Harris arranged it. He spoke with Father Simeon, and I was invited to live for one day in the monastery of St. George.
So the dream came true. I’m hitchhiking like a balloon on a tailwind. Very kind open people gave me a lift. I was in a hurry to get to the place where Harris had agreed to meet because I did not have a local SIM card and we could not call. It was one hour before the meeting time and I was only 26 km away from the site.
I stood on the road and hitchhiked for about 10 minutes. That white “TOYOTA” is definitely mine. It’s Harris behind the wheel!
— How did you get here, this is a different place than we were going to meet?
— I didn’t understand where that place was which you showed me on the map. So I just thought, you would probably be on this road. And here we are.
— We don’t need the Internet. We have a connection directly from heart to heart!
This was only the second time I met Harris, but I felt like I’d known him all my life. Our souls were close to each other.
Harris took me to the monastery and introduced me to Father Simeon and Father Demetrianus. I was given a personal cell where I left my backpack. And all together we went to attend service. There were about 50 parishioners in the Church. The women were on the left side, and the men were on the right side. I really liked the atmosphere of the service. I quite clearly felt the spiritual resonance. Praying together nourished my soul.
Harris had to leave at the very beginning of the service due to urgent matters he had to take care of. I was standing next to strangers. But they didn’t feel like strangers. There was a spiritual kinship, family, and comfort.
At the end of the service, everyone went out into the yard and began to eagerly socialize with each other.
I was approached by several young people from the parish, and we also had interesting conversations. Father Demetrianus also joined us.
The people were very polite, pious and educated. They asked me reasonable and serious questions, they were interested in my life. I told him that I was also a monk from Russia, but in Vaishnavism.
The more they learned about me, the wider their eyes became…
I liked the people very much, and they liked me too.
Later, when all the parishioners left and half the monks went to bed, we met again with Father Demetrianus. We told each other about our lives.
Father Demetrianus is 45 years old and he has spent 25 of them living and serving in the monastery. Father Simeon is his mentor. He told me, “25 years have passed as one day”.
I also learned from him that the monastery does not eat meat. We talked a lot about the lives of various Christian saints, and about Jesus. He showed me Christian books, photos and prayers (there were even some in Russian). Almost all of our views were the same.
It was getting very late. We went to sleep because we had service at 5: 30 in the morning.
The next day I was approached by a young monk Father Denisius. He was very interested in me and Hinduism. I told him briefly about the most important thing. Father Denisius still had many questions, but he had to go to serve in the kitchen. He looked so elated after talking to me, although I only shared with him my experience and views on life.
I just feel like an instrument in the hands of God. He implements his plans through me. And it’s always something new and exciting…
At 11:00 in the afternoon Harris came to pick me up and take me to the airport.
In this time we became related to each other. Father Simeon, Father Demetrianus, Father Denisius, and Harris will forever live in my heart. They took their place there and became a part of me. I often think about them, and sometimes I talk to Harris. I have a desire to meet them again, and it is quite possible that it will happen sometime. In the meantime, warm memories of them warm my soul…
I said goodbye to Harris at the airport.
Harris: — Maybe you need something?
Me: — No, I’m fine.
Harris: — Do you need some money?
Me: — No, I have enough on my card.
Harris: – if you need anything – write. I’ll try to help.
We gave each other a big hug…
All people are one big family. We are all different, but it’s not a problem to be closer to one another. Differences make the picture more colorful.
My love has grown. All these beautiful, new souls in my life will forever have a place in my heart and have thus expanded me, expanded my consciousness, expanded my Love!
Conclusion
Well, my friends, the time has come for us to part for a while.
Love in separation only increases.
I’ll still write, and maybe meet you in person.
From a trip to Cyprus, I learned a lot of new and useful things about people and myself. I made new friends and that is worth a lot.
I have many more plans and interesting projects. Some of them I’m already working on now. But I’ll tell you about that later.
Until next time, goodbye…
I love you!
Your VaikunthaLoka das
