Another Day in Bodhgaya

It’s all starting to make perfect sense to me now. Meditation is the only antidote to the noise and chaos that is everyday life here. Without it, even a reasonable person might find the only other way out of this constant assault on the senses, is death… but then again if you believe you will simply be reborn back into this place…

We started today with a flood in the hall outside our room. Waking at 7am to the sound of straw brushes swishing water around haphazardly and other guests yelling to each other about it - right outside our not-so-sound-proof door. Then the water in our bathroom shut off (predictably) and it was shortly followed by the toilet backing up and over-flowing. Sadly, this was almost predictable too!!! The real question was, how long could I hold it and could we find an even half-clean public bathroom in the next few hours? Unlikely. Luckily, I have a remarkable bladder and easily managed to down a soupy breakfast and plenty of chai before first checking email, then finding a relatively clean public facility.

Next stop, travel agent. We purchased some outrageously priced “emergency” rail tickets last night after discovering all trains out of Gaya were booked for days to come and we needed to pick them up from him today. The man was a crook! We discovered this morning that although we asked for a train that left on the 20th from Gaya, he actually booked us on the train that left Calcutta on the 20th and stopped to pick us up on the 21st!!! Non-refundable. And he we go again for another night in Bodhgaya! I could have strangled him. He knew it too and I watched as his eyes pleaded with Osman to control his wife. No such luck, I let him have the full (loud) wrath of my anger and stormed off. His voice calling “madam, madam… madam!…” in the background. In truth, if I had thought he made a genuine mistake I would have gone easier on him, but last night he made a big show of taking cell phone calls and trying to sound important as we sat in front of him. He interrupted us and yelled past us to one of the young boys working there to bring him chai. What an ass! Negligent and incompetent, but still with his large ego intact.

Last chore for the day… find a new hotel. An UPGRADED one. We found one a good deal cleaner, quieter and sporting a 1980’s style TV too. Hello BBC!
There was just enough time left in the day to visit the meditation garden, watch a beautiful blue kingfisher in action and let go of all of the days annoyances. The yelling I had done had given me a sore throat anyway.

Very Enlightening!

Bodhgaya is the place where Lord Buddha achieved enlightenment (under the Bodhi Tree)… and where hopefully I can walk away with a little more patience and gratitude.

These monks travel from far and wide to walk in Buddha's footsteps, come closer to their own enlightenment and apparently to buy all the same chatchka that tourists are supposed to want.

Prayer flags adorn the temple.

For some, this is a life (and appearance) changing experience and I was very appreciative of being able to share the moment, up close and personal.

India in general, is definitely the place to come if you want to be slapped in the face with dysfunction, filth and wanting. And if you can’t recognize how easy and privileged your American lifestyle is while here, I think you never will, sadly.

To Know How Lucky You Are...

As we took time out in our hotel room today, escaping the tooting horns, construction noises, free-running animals and general mayhem, I was homesick. Missing the feeling of walking in a bathroom without flip-flops on, yearning for hot water and fruity smelling soaps and lotions. Thinking wistfully of my memory foam mattress as I struggled to find a position that didn’t aggravate my aching bones - a product of the thin mattress and wood underneath.

Yet when I thought a little harder, I recognized that most people outside the hotel don’t have a bed to sleep in or the privacy of a room at all… let alone one with connected bathroom that has “almost hot” water.

Last night Osman and I ventured down a side street that seemed to be filled with candlelight. As we drew closer we realized what we were seeing was a makeshift (or permanent?) home for some of the people that, by day, were street venders. They had pulled their carts down the alley, placed them against a wall, covered the fronts with plastic or sheets, and crawled inside. The lights we saw were little fires. The fires consumed all sorts of garbage and the people who lit them sat mere inches from the flames, their legs wrapped around them. They probably dreamed of a dirty, cramped hotel room with clean-ish running water… as I dreamed of a three bedroom house with central heating and memory foam bed.

Varanasi, here we come

Actually I expected more trouble arriving at the main Varanasi train station. Lonely Planet (the travelers Bible) seemed to think we would be tricked, robbed and harassed to death, shortly after exiting the train station. Or at the very least, long before finding our guest house in the maze of vehicle-free (in theory) alleys that are designed to get you lost and invite you to buy colorful, but needless things.

But after being dropped off by our auto-rickshaw about 10 minutes from the guesthouse and having several attempts at getting directions, we finally found Eden Halt and met our delightful host, Sanjay. His 4 bedroom guesthouse is family owned and overlooks Raja Ghat, a relatively peaceful temple on the banks of Mother Ganga (The Ganges River).

Time to take in the chaos that only a Hindu festival on the holy river could provide.

A view from the water aboard Shiva’s boat was next for us. I feel bad even saying it, but it was a peaceful break from the dozens of beggars. Young and old women alike, touting sickly looking babies and pinching them for the “extra-unhappy” effect. Kids pulling at our sleeves and trouser legs, hand to mouth, gesturing hunger and demanding we remedy the problem. Meanwhile puppies, skinny and itchy, squeal underfoot, cows and their calves yield to no one and one eye must always, always be on the ground…just in case the smell doesn’t alert you first!

Varanasi is alive. From the diverse people, their intensely colorful garb to the funeral Ghat, or as Shiva referred to them; the burning bodies. Despite the cold, cold water, men and women are dunking themselves repeatedly in the river that looks like it needs cleaning more than they do. Yes, for the most part this is religious and ritualistic, but for those without water at home, it really is a daily bath too. The Ganges also provides dish and laundry washing facilities, and the shores for which to float off your candle and flower offering.

If you are Hindu and lucky enough to die right here in Varanasi, you can be assured that you are now free from rebirth!

I am quite sure there is no other place like this on earth and the 16 hour train journey back to a place that captured my imagination in 1998 was definitely worth it.

The next day...

How can a day of wandering, shopping, eating and people watching be so tiring? I am exhausted, but in my defense we did start the day at crack-o-dawn. Umm-Hmmm…Before the sun rose we were down at the Ganges watching other people bath, chant and add to the pollution.

Highlights included; Those that got up before us; Those that bathed, despite the cold;

The needy and disadvantaged; And of course...tasty street food.

(My cast iron stomach is still in tact, touch wood.)

Shoot Me Now!

How did a 5 hour train journey from Varanasi to Gaya turn into a 12 hour mess? Well, it starts with the train running a bit behind. Then late, then much later. We left 3 hours behind schedule - which is by all accounts, not that bad for India.

Our sleeper car was packed with all sort of people. Kids wailing, couples sitting silently and backpackers like us. Peanut husks, amongst everything else, littered the floor. I don't even want to think about the wet spots. At every stop the train was swamped with beggars - quickly in, then quickly out again. Not content to simply put out a hand, these ones grabbed a leg and tugged on it ... right about the time my book was getting really good and I had almost blocked out the smell of the nearby toilet I was brought back to consciousness!

Stop the train! We want to get off!!!

While it did appear the open doors were a safety hazard, I was pleased with the cross ventilation and it was, after all, another option if things got really bad!

Another "express" train races past the open door.

We soon found ourselves in Gaya and after banding together with several other US tourists, managed to get a very respectable looking SUV to drive us all to Bodhgaya, about 18km away... our final destination tonight.

Unguided Jaipur

Both Osman and I were far more interested in the daily market life, goats wearing sweaters and monkey antics.

My favorite monkey duo… a mother and infant who posed for me for a minute before the mother decided she no longer wanted her baby photographed, and prompted covered its head with her massive monkey paws!

Agra... the two-faced city

As a city, Agra definitely has its problems. Of course there is the usual stuff that goes along with poverty…

Open sewers. Read this as too many people who pee and poop all over the ground, against every wall and into every gutter. And when a public restroom is provided, it gets the same treatment!
No waste and rubbish disposal system. Again, too many people who think it is thoroughly acceptable to throw anything and everything on the street, in the drains, gardens and other public places.
And full-on harassment by those who have little or no other option for feeding their families and see us (tourists, foreigners etc) as having plenty to share. Completely understandable, yet undeniably and unfortunately, barking up the wrong tree too.

It’s a city that is tiring. Over-stimulation and exhaustion quickly results from the daily struggle to understand the language (body language mostly), avoid becoming road kill, and perhaps most surprisingly, to stay warm during the coldest temperatures that most can remember here.

It sounds funny, since obviously Colorado gets way colder and we have just left snow and ice, so we should be feeling kind of balmy at 40-50 degrees. But consider this; In Colorado we have heated homes and we eat inside! Yes, that’s right… no heat here and the one portable heater we managed to con out of our hotel kept blowing the fuse in our room… which has no windows and more than enough other scheduled and unscheduled power cuts. I could say its really hard to dress and get ready in pitch black, but the truth is, with no hot water (which is dependent on the electricity) I’m having trouble finding the motivation to change clothes anyway. Besides, like most things, filth is relative and I’m still doing ok in India!!!
As for the eating outside thing. I have no explanation, except that perhaps in order to capitalize on the stunning view of the Taj Mahal from the top of many of the buildings, or maybe to rise above the smell of street life, many (or all) of the restaurants in our adopted ‘hood were indeed outside or at least were missing vital walls and doors. And I am getting a much better understanding as to why the women mostly cover their heads here. It may have more to do with staying warm than being modest I suspect.

Agra Fort... a place to imprison thy father, after he annoys you, and of course after he has built the Taj too.

This is what a monk looks like when he is impressed with the Agra Fort. (And in all fairness it's also what he looks like at the time he is suffering from in-your-face-cell-phone monk photography!)

So why did we come here? The Taj of course! And despite a foggy start to the day, we had an awe inspiring time wandering the grounds and taking in one of the worlds most breathtaking sights. On top of it all, we both seemed to have cemented ourselves as the “go to photographers” of the Agra sights - as voted by Indian and foreign couples alike. Yay us!

The view from the restaurant atop of our hotel.

What we came to see!

Just so you know… these pics don’t even come close to doing it justice.

The Taj and Us

Mandatory picture... worth the queue for the good spot. And eventually worth the wait for the guy who didn't try to change the settings on our camera!

Suspicion on the Varanasi Express

It strained our “getting it together” skills but we did manage an early morning today and left Agra at around 8am, bound for Delhi. A final road trip with trusty Bilu and his little white Suzuki.

Not much to report except a delicious aloo parantha and chai, roadside, for breakfast. Then a brief stroll through Chandni Chowk (crazy, local textile market) before it was all aboard the sleeper train for Varanasi.

I write from my top bunk! Not a bad way to travel.
Osman and I find ourselves sharing a 4 berth sleeper area with just 1 other person. Mr Grumpy.
I named him that based on his behavior towards a young man who works on the train. He has not been grumpy to me… just a bit leary.

I think Mr Grumpy works for the government… he has some sort of name badge and carries a locked briefcase - chained to his hand. He has obviously dyed his beard - it’s orange. I know! I thought it must have sensitive documents or tons of cash inside too… perhaps the secret codes needed to blow something up or another 5 passports, each with different nationality and name, but the same photo inside?

Alas, from my perch, I was able to get a good look inside when he opened it. It contains only several average items of clothing, a fist full of 10 rupee notes and what looks like toiletries. Bor-ing!

But since I have nothing else to keep me occupied, am all hopped up on sweet, sweet chai and I do have laptop power up here, I decided to treat you with a pic of the briefcase … so you can see I was not exaggerating about the lock-to-wrist thing.

In the words of my brother…Bored much? Yes, just a bit... But then so are you if you are still reading!

Yes, since you noticed; Those are his trousers with belt on top of the case. He left, without them, to go to the bathroom!!!

Goat Designer Wear Update

And what blog post would be complete without my goat apparel report? This one sported 3 layers and actually seemed to be better prepared for the weather than I am! Who would have thought?!

Not only that, but he had a family of servants and was having his meal chopped into bite-sized pieces as we wandered past.Now that's just spoilt!