After 90 days of travel, I arrived home safely in Los Angeles yesterday shortly after 6 p.m. I have had an amazing three months, but I am ready to be home. It's an 11 hour flight from London to LA and I was very impatient. I was also exhausted. I got up at 7 a.m. London time and didn't go to sleep until about 4 p.m. London time with only a short nap on the plane. I didn't sleep well last night so I am still tired, but other than that I feel great. I am happy to be home and happy to have been away.
The last three weeks in the U.K. and Poland were as amazing as the time in India. I have hinted already about Poland and hope to get that account out today. However, Brighton and Oxford and my 24 hours in London were also good. More later.
That's it for now. I'm home. I'm well (except for a little residual cough and congestion). I'll be in touch again soon.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Poland
I am in Poland. For the last four days I have been rehearsing in very cold spaces. The consequence is that my cough which had almost disappeared has come back. However, it has been an amazing experience. Both performances went very well. This is my second time to perform in Eastern Europe and I like it a lot. The audiences are very warm and interested in experimental work. I hope to get back to Eastern Europe again.
As I say, I am feeling a little under the weather. We are supposed to meet a Polish friend of Caroline with whom I performed and after that the videographer who documented the performances. Now they are telling me that the taxi is about to arrive for the first part of this. More when I am back in Britain.
As I say, I am feeling a little under the weather. We are supposed to meet a Polish friend of Caroline with whom I performed and after that the videographer who documented the performances. Now they are telling me that the taxi is about to arrive for the first part of this. More when I am back in Britain.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Last Evening in India
It's my last evening in India. My body is ready to leave. I am tired. However, I leave with regrets. I have had a wonderful time here, a very different time from what I expected. I expected to travel much more and didn't expect to get so involved in Indian life, either in Delhi or in Varanasi.
New Friends in Delhi
In Delhi, through my new friend Veronica, I met a wonderful group of people involved in women's rights, AIDS and gay issues. I also met a group of gay men (the two groups had quite a bit of overlap). Last Sunday, I attended a meeting that takes place every Sunday in South Delhi of English speaking gay men. I had been there for the first time a month before. I am very impressed with this group. It is organized by four or five men. They have a very relaxed style and quietly make sure that everyone is included. Both times I have been there, there have been new people and the group makes sure they are welcomed and included in the conversation. There is also a Hindi group that meets else where. It is hard to be gay in India and groups like this are very encouraging to me. I look forward to going to this group again on my next trip.
New Friends in Varanasi
On our last day in Delhi, Pauline and I got up early and, along with his father, walked Sidharath to his first day of school. We dropped by his house later on our way to the airport to drop off some prints of pictures I had taken. He proudly showed us his copy book with English sentences he had written. He had also asked the teacher to help him spell our names. When he saw the pictures which were of him, his father, Pauline and myself, he said he would put up the pictures of Pauline and myself on the wall and say good morning to us every morning.
In addition, to Pauline, Siharath and his father, I made other friends in Varanasi. I made it a habit to eat breakfast and supper at the guest house to continue my study of tourists in India. I met many interesting people there and made a couple of friends, including my two friends from Calgary and an Indian who lives in Pune. People who travel in India (and many of the people I had talked to had been to India more than once and some many times) are a breed apart. Most cannot articulate why India attracts them so. I think it is partly because India is so complex and inaccessible while also being intensely immediate and just when you are totally at sea, India opens up for a moment and the present is filled with joy.
Postmodern Folk Dance
Somebody has to do something about the presentation of folk dance. I saw two evenings of a Pan-Indian Folk Dance Festival in Delhi. It is choreographed for a proscenium staged, costumed like a Bollywood film, performed with very grating fixed smiles, and presented with almost no context at all. I am sure somewhere someone is addressing folk dance from a postmodern perspective, but they haven't reached Delhi yet. First of all, I would like to see "folk" more carefully defined -- we saw dances from tribal areas, religious village dances, dances that seemed more like street theater -- but all homogenized so that it was hard to differentiate one dance from another. I would like to see the dances contextualized -- which includes attention to performance venue. Most of the dances I saw fitted very awkardly on to a stage. I would like to see less "spectacle," which would include rethinking costuming. Finally, for now, I would like the question of duration examined. All of the dances were allotted about 15 minutes even though the original performance times varied enormously. When I get back I'm going to do a little poking around and see who is doing what in the world of folk dance performance.
Tour Guide
My friend Robert arrived in Delhi two nights ago, and I have spent two days showing him Delhi and since, it is his first time in India, giving him tips on traveling here. We had a great time. I finally got to Humayan's tomb where I have been trying to go since I arrived in India. Yesterday was Muharam, a muslim holiday, and we were in Old Delhi for the procession which consisted of tottery tall structures of bamboo and tinsel mounted on trucks and carts. These were proceeded by drummers and the carts would stop while men or boys reenacted moments from an ancient battle by fighting with sticks, swords or maces while the crowd cheered. I though this was an occasion of mourning, but yesterday everyone was having a very good time.
We also went to a mosque, a Sufi shrine, two Hindu temples and a Sikh guruwarda. One of the hard things for me and many travelers is getting used to visiting religious sites so I gave Robert a crash course yesterday.
I had a great time. I love showing off my knowledge and it was also a chance for me to think about what I liked best about Delhi and how to introduce it to someone in just two days.
O.K. The next time I write I will be in the U.K. or Poland.
New Friends in Delhi
In Delhi, through my new friend Veronica, I met a wonderful group of people involved in women's rights, AIDS and gay issues. I also met a group of gay men (the two groups had quite a bit of overlap). Last Sunday, I attended a meeting that takes place every Sunday in South Delhi of English speaking gay men. I had been there for the first time a month before. I am very impressed with this group. It is organized by four or five men. They have a very relaxed style and quietly make sure that everyone is included. Both times I have been there, there have been new people and the group makes sure they are welcomed and included in the conversation. There is also a Hindi group that meets else where. It is hard to be gay in India and groups like this are very encouraging to me. I look forward to going to this group again on my next trip.
New Friends in Varanasi
On our last day in Delhi, Pauline and I got up early and, along with his father, walked Sidharath to his first day of school. We dropped by his house later on our way to the airport to drop off some prints of pictures I had taken. He proudly showed us his copy book with English sentences he had written. He had also asked the teacher to help him spell our names. When he saw the pictures which were of him, his father, Pauline and myself, he said he would put up the pictures of Pauline and myself on the wall and say good morning to us every morning.
In addition, to Pauline, Siharath and his father, I made other friends in Varanasi. I made it a habit to eat breakfast and supper at the guest house to continue my study of tourists in India. I met many interesting people there and made a couple of friends, including my two friends from Calgary and an Indian who lives in Pune. People who travel in India (and many of the people I had talked to had been to India more than once and some many times) are a breed apart. Most cannot articulate why India attracts them so. I think it is partly because India is so complex and inaccessible while also being intensely immediate and just when you are totally at sea, India opens up for a moment and the present is filled with joy.
Postmodern Folk Dance
Somebody has to do something about the presentation of folk dance. I saw two evenings of a Pan-Indian Folk Dance Festival in Delhi. It is choreographed for a proscenium staged, costumed like a Bollywood film, performed with very grating fixed smiles, and presented with almost no context at all. I am sure somewhere someone is addressing folk dance from a postmodern perspective, but they haven't reached Delhi yet. First of all, I would like to see "folk" more carefully defined -- we saw dances from tribal areas, religious village dances, dances that seemed more like street theater -- but all homogenized so that it was hard to differentiate one dance from another. I would like to see the dances contextualized -- which includes attention to performance venue. Most of the dances I saw fitted very awkardly on to a stage. I would like to see less "spectacle," which would include rethinking costuming. Finally, for now, I would like the question of duration examined. All of the dances were allotted about 15 minutes even though the original performance times varied enormously. When I get back I'm going to do a little poking around and see who is doing what in the world of folk dance performance.
Tour Guide
My friend Robert arrived in Delhi two nights ago, and I have spent two days showing him Delhi and since, it is his first time in India, giving him tips on traveling here. We had a great time. I finally got to Humayan's tomb where I have been trying to go since I arrived in India. Yesterday was Muharam, a muslim holiday, and we were in Old Delhi for the procession which consisted of tottery tall structures of bamboo and tinsel mounted on trucks and carts. These were proceeded by drummers and the carts would stop while men or boys reenacted moments from an ancient battle by fighting with sticks, swords or maces while the crowd cheered. I though this was an occasion of mourning, but yesterday everyone was having a very good time.
We also went to a mosque, a Sufi shrine, two Hindu temples and a Sikh guruwarda. One of the hard things for me and many travelers is getting used to visiting religious sites so I gave Robert a crash course yesterday.
I had a great time. I love showing off my knowledge and it was also a chance for me to think about what I liked best about Delhi and how to introduce it to someone in just two days.
O.K. The next time I write I will be in the U.K. or Poland.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Four Wonderful Days
It didn't start so well. Last Friday, after I came home from Hindi class I didn't feel good and then about 4, my fever rose suddenly and I had chills. I took aspirin which calmed things down and three hours later the fever went away. The same thing had happened 10 days earlier so I was worried. Saturday morning, I was on my way to a hospital in South Varanasi to have tests run but my Hindi professor convinced me to go to a local hospital which was much cheaper. It was cheap. It cost 20 cents for the entire visit, and the doctor cured my cough and cold which has been lingering for ever. However, I don't think he understood about the fevers. His English wasn't great. Also the visit was chaotic. The room was packed with other patients, each with a slip of paper like mine which they were thrusting at the doctor as he examined me. And there was a previous patient who was deaf and didn't understand that his visit was over so various people kept shouting at him that he should go. Anyway, later, after talking to several people I decided to go Monday morning to the hospital I had originally wanted to go to. And as I wasn't feeling well, I canceled my future Hindi lessons.
I had met this French woman named Pauline and she seemed to be having a great time in Varanasi so now that I had free time I decided to "hire" her as a tour guide. So we met on Sunday at 10 in the morning. She started to introduce me to her guide but I couldn't see him and then I realized that she was talking about the small, 7-year boy who was standing there. His name was Sidarath and he turned out to be a very good guide. First he took us to the Nepali temple which I hadn't seen and which is very nice. Then Pauline had seem some young men working out and wanted to go back there. We ended up in a different place. It was a small enclosed open-air area above the ghats, with a small soft earth room at the far end. The young men welcomed us and wanted Pauline to take their picture. She wouldn't but they insisted so I finally got out my camera and started taking pictures. I felt strange because they were naked except for very small loin cloths, but they were very happy to see themselves in my digital camera and have been pestering me ever since for prints so I am having prints made which will be ready tomorrow.
Monday, Pauline took a boat with me down to Asi Ghat from where I would take a bicycle rickshaw to the Hospital. Sidarath was with us but we both felt uncomfortable about taking him with us without his father's knowledge. As he was getting off the boat, the boatman started teasing him and then twisted his arm. We stopped him, but Sidarath was crying. He had said earlier that the boatman was a bad man who hit him, but we had already hired the boat. So we got off the boat and comforted him and told the boatman not to tease our friend. Sidarath stayed behind and we started up the river to Asi Ghat. Soon we noticed on the ghats along the river, running his heart out to keep up with us. We stopped the boat, and he came aboard. When we got to Asi Ghat, I showed Pauline one of my favorite book shops and I bought a couple more books. Then I headed for my hospital and Pauline and Sidarath went back to Main Ghat where we started.
I had my tests and then went to the restaurant where Pauline and I had lunch and she was there. I asked her if she had thought of doing anything about Sidarath who is a very intelligent, self-reliant, ethical and sweet young man beneath his street bravado. She said he had talked to his father who could afford to send Sidarath to school. The father works at the Golden Temple helping pilgrims do their pujas. They pay him what they want. Sometimes he makes quite a bit of money and sometimes he doesn't. Basically he is quite poor, his brother having cheated him out of his share of the inheritance from their father. She had already talked to the principal of the school and for 3,000 rupees (about 75 U.S. dollars) Sidarath could go to school until the end of the year. I have talked to the father and have been to the school with Pauline twice and we think everything is o.k. so today we went with Sidarath and the father to the school, gave the money to the father who gave it to the principal, and tomorrow Sidarath starts school. His father has been teaching him and he is very smart, but the school will also give him one-on-one tutoring to help him catch up. He has been to the tailor and been measured for his uniform. Tomorrow, Pauline and I are going to walk him to school for the first time and then we leave Varanasi. It is a strange feeling to have taken a young boy under our joint wing. I have no idea how it will turn out, but we can keep in school for 3,000 rupees a year (there is no proration for a half a year) so we will as long as he is willing to go. We are both going to try to come back to Varanasi next winter and check up on him.
The first day we went to his school together, it was Saraswati's festival day. Saraswati is the goddess of the mind, learning, books and education so no business was being done. The next thing I know, Sidarath and his father have walked us to this narrow lane and we are buying puja items, putting all our pens, cell phones, cameras, water, and I don't know what else into a locker and leaving our bags with the puja item seller and then we were being patted down by a series of policemen and then we were inside the Golden Temple where most foreigners don't get to go, Sidarath guiding us around. He was a very knoweldgeable, helpful, but insistent guide and he tried to keep us to a Hindu pace, concentrating on the various puja points in front of the shrines. Pauline and I kept trying to look around us and he kept saying, "Come." We threw our milk mixed with Ganga water and our flowers on the central lingam, the embelm of Shiva, then they put some of the flowers, sopping with milk and water back on our necks, took our puja items, touched them to the lingam and said prayers over them and gave them back. The area around the lingam was very crowded and we kept being jostled because we were so slow and ignorant and Sidarath kept saying "come," and Pauline kept looking at me with a puzzled look and I kept saying, "I have no idea what's going on." The priest smeared sandalwood paste on our foreheads as well as come colored powder, and then Sidarath gave us a tug and led us down very confusing aisles and we then we were in front of another shrine. I can't remember the order but we did puja in front of the Sun God (where we had colored string tied around our wrist), the Well of Knoweldge and Nandi, Shiva's bull. We also did some sort of reverence to the mother god. At the last shrine, either Nandi or the Well of Knowledge, the brahmin asked us if we wanted a small 200 rupee puja, a big 500 rupee puja, or the whole works for 700 rupees. We settled for the small puja and he asked us our names, our parents names, whether they were alive or dead and the names of our brothers and sisters. Then he made us put our heads on the shrine and we had to repeat a lot of Sanskrit. Pauline got the giggles in the middle of it, but I managed to keep a straight face. It wasn't that we didn't take it seriously but trying to keep up with his Sanskrit made us laugh. We got more dots on our head, then we looked at the mosque that was built on the site of the original temple, and then we were out on the streets again collecting our stuff with a bag full of blessed puja items. Sidarath's father met us and told us we could not throw the flowers away but we could feed them to a cow or throw them in the Ganga. Now they were beautiful and we should wear them for a while, something I felt uncomfortable about. He left us and Sidarath was leading us back to our hotel when I cow suddenly appeared and started eating the marigolds from around my neck. I quickly took them off and fed the lot to her. Pauline didn't have marigolds, only red flowers which the cow wouldn't eat. I had some of the red flowers too, and I said I was going to throw them in the Ganga before going to the hotel. So when we got to the ghats, and Sidarath and said good by, we went down to the Ganga and threw our flowers in and they floated away.
It was now dark and as we passed the burning ghats, Pauline asked me if I wanted to stop and look. She had asked me earlier if I had spent time there and I said, "No, I felt shy, but that I also felt drawn there." She had been going for half an hour a day and meditating. So we stopped and stayed there for over half an hour. I went back and forth between thinking about the people burning and what their lives might have been like, watching the scene from an aesthetic point of view -- it was beautiful at night, and being amazed at the technical skill of the cremation workers as the handled the fires ensuring that the bodies were well burnt. I was also aware that I was a tourist among other tourists and what a powerful moment this was in each of our travels. I have talked to travelers who have avoided it completely, but for many it is one of the major factors that make Varanasi such a compelling place.
What else. I went to Sarnath with a Dutch friend. When I first went 9 years ago, I didn't like the place very much. The excavations made no sense, the stupa looked ugly to me, and I didn't have enough time in the museum which is small and wonderful. This time, the excavations still made no sense, but the red bricks and the patterns the ruins made were beautiful. The park they are in is green, spacious and quiet, a relief from most of the rest of India, including Varanasi. The main stupa still looks ugly to me, but now it is a very attractive ugliness and the detailing of the remaining carvings is wonderful. And this time I had time to enjoy the museum.
Today I got the results of the tests and nothing seems to be wrong with me. I will have to wait and see if the fevers persist. If they do I will have it checked out in Los Angeles, but will try to avoid doctors for the rest of the trip.
I know I have left things out, a wonderful lunch on a rooftop overlooking a silk workshop, a trip to Ramanagar Fort and Palace, the placing of the Saraswati images in the Ganges, and on and on.
I am having a very good time. I am sad to leave Varanasi and looking forward to Delhi.
Luke
I had met this French woman named Pauline and she seemed to be having a great time in Varanasi so now that I had free time I decided to "hire" her as a tour guide. So we met on Sunday at 10 in the morning. She started to introduce me to her guide but I couldn't see him and then I realized that she was talking about the small, 7-year boy who was standing there. His name was Sidarath and he turned out to be a very good guide. First he took us to the Nepali temple which I hadn't seen and which is very nice. Then Pauline had seem some young men working out and wanted to go back there. We ended up in a different place. It was a small enclosed open-air area above the ghats, with a small soft earth room at the far end. The young men welcomed us and wanted Pauline to take their picture. She wouldn't but they insisted so I finally got out my camera and started taking pictures. I felt strange because they were naked except for very small loin cloths, but they were very happy to see themselves in my digital camera and have been pestering me ever since for prints so I am having prints made which will be ready tomorrow.
Monday, Pauline took a boat with me down to Asi Ghat from where I would take a bicycle rickshaw to the Hospital. Sidarath was with us but we both felt uncomfortable about taking him with us without his father's knowledge. As he was getting off the boat, the boatman started teasing him and then twisted his arm. We stopped him, but Sidarath was crying. He had said earlier that the boatman was a bad man who hit him, but we had already hired the boat. So we got off the boat and comforted him and told the boatman not to tease our friend. Sidarath stayed behind and we started up the river to Asi Ghat. Soon we noticed on the ghats along the river, running his heart out to keep up with us. We stopped the boat, and he came aboard. When we got to Asi Ghat, I showed Pauline one of my favorite book shops and I bought a couple more books. Then I headed for my hospital and Pauline and Sidarath went back to Main Ghat where we started.
I had my tests and then went to the restaurant where Pauline and I had lunch and she was there. I asked her if she had thought of doing anything about Sidarath who is a very intelligent, self-reliant, ethical and sweet young man beneath his street bravado. She said he had talked to his father who could afford to send Sidarath to school. The father works at the Golden Temple helping pilgrims do their pujas. They pay him what they want. Sometimes he makes quite a bit of money and sometimes he doesn't. Basically he is quite poor, his brother having cheated him out of his share of the inheritance from their father. She had already talked to the principal of the school and for 3,000 rupees (about 75 U.S. dollars) Sidarath could go to school until the end of the year. I have talked to the father and have been to the school with Pauline twice and we think everything is o.k. so today we went with Sidarath and the father to the school, gave the money to the father who gave it to the principal, and tomorrow Sidarath starts school. His father has been teaching him and he is very smart, but the school will also give him one-on-one tutoring to help him catch up. He has been to the tailor and been measured for his uniform. Tomorrow, Pauline and I are going to walk him to school for the first time and then we leave Varanasi. It is a strange feeling to have taken a young boy under our joint wing. I have no idea how it will turn out, but we can keep in school for 3,000 rupees a year (there is no proration for a half a year) so we will as long as he is willing to go. We are both going to try to come back to Varanasi next winter and check up on him.
The first day we went to his school together, it was Saraswati's festival day. Saraswati is the goddess of the mind, learning, books and education so no business was being done. The next thing I know, Sidarath and his father have walked us to this narrow lane and we are buying puja items, putting all our pens, cell phones, cameras, water, and I don't know what else into a locker and leaving our bags with the puja item seller and then we were being patted down by a series of policemen and then we were inside the Golden Temple where most foreigners don't get to go, Sidarath guiding us around. He was a very knoweldgeable, helpful, but insistent guide and he tried to keep us to a Hindu pace, concentrating on the various puja points in front of the shrines. Pauline and I kept trying to look around us and he kept saying, "Come." We threw our milk mixed with Ganga water and our flowers on the central lingam, the embelm of Shiva, then they put some of the flowers, sopping with milk and water back on our necks, took our puja items, touched them to the lingam and said prayers over them and gave them back. The area around the lingam was very crowded and we kept being jostled because we were so slow and ignorant and Sidarath kept saying "come," and Pauline kept looking at me with a puzzled look and I kept saying, "I have no idea what's going on." The priest smeared sandalwood paste on our foreheads as well as come colored powder, and then Sidarath gave us a tug and led us down very confusing aisles and we then we were in front of another shrine. I can't remember the order but we did puja in front of the Sun God (where we had colored string tied around our wrist), the Well of Knoweldge and Nandi, Shiva's bull. We also did some sort of reverence to the mother god. At the last shrine, either Nandi or the Well of Knowledge, the brahmin asked us if we wanted a small 200 rupee puja, a big 500 rupee puja, or the whole works for 700 rupees. We settled for the small puja and he asked us our names, our parents names, whether they were alive or dead and the names of our brothers and sisters. Then he made us put our heads on the shrine and we had to repeat a lot of Sanskrit. Pauline got the giggles in the middle of it, but I managed to keep a straight face. It wasn't that we didn't take it seriously but trying to keep up with his Sanskrit made us laugh. We got more dots on our head, then we looked at the mosque that was built on the site of the original temple, and then we were out on the streets again collecting our stuff with a bag full of blessed puja items. Sidarath's father met us and told us we could not throw the flowers away but we could feed them to a cow or throw them in the Ganga. Now they were beautiful and we should wear them for a while, something I felt uncomfortable about. He left us and Sidarath was leading us back to our hotel when I cow suddenly appeared and started eating the marigolds from around my neck. I quickly took them off and fed the lot to her. Pauline didn't have marigolds, only red flowers which the cow wouldn't eat. I had some of the red flowers too, and I said I was going to throw them in the Ganga before going to the hotel. So when we got to the ghats, and Sidarath and said good by, we went down to the Ganga and threw our flowers in and they floated away.
It was now dark and as we passed the burning ghats, Pauline asked me if I wanted to stop and look. She had asked me earlier if I had spent time there and I said, "No, I felt shy, but that I also felt drawn there." She had been going for half an hour a day and meditating. So we stopped and stayed there for over half an hour. I went back and forth between thinking about the people burning and what their lives might have been like, watching the scene from an aesthetic point of view -- it was beautiful at night, and being amazed at the technical skill of the cremation workers as the handled the fires ensuring that the bodies were well burnt. I was also aware that I was a tourist among other tourists and what a powerful moment this was in each of our travels. I have talked to travelers who have avoided it completely, but for many it is one of the major factors that make Varanasi such a compelling place.
What else. I went to Sarnath with a Dutch friend. When I first went 9 years ago, I didn't like the place very much. The excavations made no sense, the stupa looked ugly to me, and I didn't have enough time in the museum which is small and wonderful. This time, the excavations still made no sense, but the red bricks and the patterns the ruins made were beautiful. The park they are in is green, spacious and quiet, a relief from most of the rest of India, including Varanasi. The main stupa still looks ugly to me, but now it is a very attractive ugliness and the detailing of the remaining carvings is wonderful. And this time I had time to enjoy the museum.
Today I got the results of the tests and nothing seems to be wrong with me. I will have to wait and see if the fevers persist. If they do I will have it checked out in Los Angeles, but will try to avoid doctors for the rest of the trip.
I know I have left things out, a wonderful lunch on a rooftop overlooking a silk workshop, a trip to Ramanagar Fort and Palace, the placing of the Saraswati images in the Ganges, and on and on.
I am having a very good time. I am sad to leave Varanasi and looking forward to Delhi.
Luke
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Back to the Mela
This is just a short note on a wonderful day. My Hindi professor, his wife and three other students hired a car and driver and went to Allahabad to the Ardh Mela. This was an entirely different experience from my earlier one. We headed out early in the morning and arrived at the check point where we had to leave the car and joined thousands of people walking to the Ganges. Large groups of people were traveling together with bundles containing dry clothes and provisions for their rituals. We walked past the saddhus' pavilions that I had visited on my earlier trip, down to the river's edge at the sangam where the Yamuna joins the Ganges and the Saraswati (?), a mythical river. We milled around for awhile trying to find a boat but the police were not letting the boats land for some reason and we finally found a space where we could get to the Ganges, my professor and his wife and two of the students took dips, while another student and I guarded the baggage. After the dips, everyone dried back and we walked back to the car, went to a restaurant in Allahabad and had beans, the restaurant's specialty, and then came back to Varanasi.
Those are the bare facts. There was something, however, about walking this distance with all these pilgrims, most in a festive mood, that was amazing. Almost all of the women wore brightly colored saris and ours was not the only stream. Moving streams of color were coming down the slope to the mela site as far as one could see in the distance. Then at the river bank, people gathered in small groups like ours and prepared to enter the river. The women took off their sweaters and other outer garments but kept their saris on. The men stripped to their underpants, sometimes wrapping a short cloth around their waist, sometimes not. Then they all head to the river, said short prayers, took a short dip, came back, dried off, changed clothes modestly, and headed back. There was something about thousands and thousands of people doing this simple act together and yet separately that was very moving. Very small children, very old people, and everyone in between, all bathing in the Ganges. If I hadn't been so sick this trip I would have joined them. Maybe next time.
We traveled to and from Allahabad on the Grand Trunk Road which I always like. There are turning it into a four-lane divided highway. Where it goes through towns, they just demolish the buildings far enough back to let the highway pass and then brick in the openings. It makes for some oddly shaped buildings and some very strange rooms.
I was up at 4 this morning and it is now six-thirty. The above words seem inadequate. I had a wonderful day.
Those are the bare facts. There was something, however, about walking this distance with all these pilgrims, most in a festive mood, that was amazing. Almost all of the women wore brightly colored saris and ours was not the only stream. Moving streams of color were coming down the slope to the mela site as far as one could see in the distance. Then at the river bank, people gathered in small groups like ours and prepared to enter the river. The women took off their sweaters and other outer garments but kept their saris on. The men stripped to their underpants, sometimes wrapping a short cloth around their waist, sometimes not. Then they all head to the river, said short prayers, took a short dip, came back, dried off, changed clothes modestly, and headed back. There was something about thousands and thousands of people doing this simple act together and yet separately that was very moving. Very small children, very old people, and everyone in between, all bathing in the Ganges. If I hadn't been so sick this trip I would have joined them. Maybe next time.
We traveled to and from Allahabad on the Grand Trunk Road which I always like. There are turning it into a four-lane divided highway. Where it goes through towns, they just demolish the buildings far enough back to let the highway pass and then brick in the openings. It makes for some oddly shaped buildings and some very strange rooms.
I was up at 4 this morning and it is now six-thirty. The above words seem inadequate. I had a wonderful day.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Social Whirl
It has been a long time between blogs. I keep being promised wireless access and then it doesn't materialize. At my new hotel, we worked for two hours and couldn't get my computer to recognize the wireless signal. Using the hotel's computers is relatively expensive and I have been looking for a cheaper place. This is traveler's madness because expensive isn't that expensive, but I have found a place between my hotel and my Hindi class that is convenient, relatively spacious and cheap. It also seems to have Internet access all day long. My hotel is darked out between about 10 a.m. and 3 p.m because the City power is off and their generator only supplies a few essential lights. No power to outlets and no hot water. I will be in Varanasi for almost two more weeks and I am beginning to have a routine so I hope to blog more regularly from now on. Promises, promises.
My New Hotel
Except for my complaints above, I like my new place very much. Admittedly, there are almost 100 steps between the walk along the river and my room at the top of the hotel and there is only one entrance so I must climb the 100 steps every time I come home to my room, but once I get there, it is worth it. I have a spectacular view of the Ganges. I am just down river from the main cremation ghat and at night, I can see the fires, and in the daytime, the smoke. Cremations take place 24 hours a day. My room is simple but quite comfortable. The monkeys make a lot of noise, and last night, there was amplified chanting all night long because of the New Year's festival, and the temple bells start ringing at 5 in the morning and there are the usual dog choruses in the middle of the night, but earplugs and familiarity take care of all the sounds and I sleep as well if not better here than I have anyplace in India. Although there is a lot of activity along the river bank (the ghats), the hotel is a walk from most tourist amenities, so I usually eat breakfast and the evening meal at the hotel. The restaurant is quite reasonable and the other tourists are interesting and therefore . . .
The Social Whirl
In Delhi, I was on the edge of the tourist circuit but here I am right in the middle of it. Even before Ben left, I started meeting people and now have made several friends. My place is not home to many long stay travelers, so the friendships are short, but my days are full. Even before I moved here, I met a young Swedish musician at Asi Ghat. We have plans to get together when he gets back from the mela at Allahabad. Then at my new hotel (Scindia Guest House), I met a French psychologist. She practices the eye movement thing that I can't remember the name of and is studying Somatic Experiencing (SE) which I am doing with Shel Rasch. She (the French psychologist -- names do not stick in my head anymore) and I have hung out together several times and will do so again. She is also at the mela but will be back soon. If my energy picks up, I might go back to the mela for a day or two, but right now, although I am feeling better than I have since I arrived in India, my full strength has not come back. However, after a couple more days of stair climbing therapy, I will be strong as the buffalo that are everywhere on the ghats. There is a herd of them on the steps of the burning ghat that I have to thread my way through on the way home. Ben T. told me to get a flashlight and for once I listened to him and it is invaluable for avoiding cow flops on dark nights. Not only is there no electricity between 10 and 3, it is also prone to going out at other times and some of the ghats are very dark after the sun has gone down.
I have also started interviewing tourists as part of my "Tourist Project." I am terrible at it. My respect for anthropologists has gone up enormously. My first subjects were an Australian couple in their early fifties who have just started out on a year-long circuit of Asia. Three months in India is their first stage. I met them after they had just completed their first two weeks. They have traveled for five week periods several times before, and they say until that time period is up they don't think the enormity of what they are attempting will settle in.
One thing I am interested in is how people think of themselves. They definitely don't think of themselves as tourists, but they didn't come up with another word. I am going to abandon this question or come at it in a different way. Most people don't like to think of themselves as tourists, but most have not come up with an alternative.
The Australian couple, I do remember their names -- Jan and Keith, are very friendly and quite easy going. They have been married thirty years and although they occasionally annoy each other, they seem to have figured this one out. I am in awe of them. I don't think I could stay away from my roots for that long. Three months is pushing it. I am doing fine so far -- better than I expected, but I know I will be glad to see the clean, wide, traffic free (compared to India) streets of Los Angeles again.
I have also been hanging out with a Canadian couple from Calgary, Paul and Tara. She says she is not a tourist but a sociologist. He didn't respond. They spent time in Dubai and Oman before India. They loved Oman. "A real treasure," they say. They had expected to be met by an Indian friend but there was a family misfortune and at the last minute, they were left to arrange their own time in India. They are doing very well. They are about to leave Varanasi for Rishikesh to chill out in the cool air while practicing yoga.
And then more Australians, and then some Norwegians, and who knows who is next. I talk all day long it seems. But now that I have Hindi classes and homework, I will have to be disciplined. However, the nights are long if I don't hang out over the dinner table.
Makar Sankranti
Yesterday, was the Hindu New Year's, Makar Sankranti. It was celebrated by bathing in the Ganges and flying kites. I was out on the ghats by 6:00 a.m. (sunrise is about 6:45) and both activities had already begun. By sunrise, the sky was filled with kites. There were so many of them that one had to be careful as one walked not to get tangled up. Some of them were being flown by very small children who didn't quite have the hang of it yet. The kites are made of plastic and are small, about 1 foot square with a very small, stubby tail. They can go very high. They launch the kites by repeatedly giving short, strong tugs on the string until the kites are high enough to catch a current. They are very skillful. In a few days there is to be a professional kite flying tournament. I don't know where. Accurate information is hard to find.
All day long yesterday, there were crowds on the ghats, sitting, eating snacks and bathing. Mostly men but quite a few women too. At one point, I was sitting watching some boys fly kites when I was suddenly surrounded by a Punjabi family, at least ten or twelve people. They were all talking to me at once in a mixture of languages. It was fun, but I soon moved on.
Also yesterday, a saddhu was being initiated on the ghat below our hotel. That's what I think was happening. The hotel manager said, "Oh, those tourists are doing puja down there." I would never of thought of them as tourists, but I guess they didn't come from Varanasi. There was a saddhu dressonly in a short saffron wrap around his waste. He sat on a platform in front of a row of religious pictures all of which were garlanded with marigolds. Beside him there were two men in the Indian version of Western clothes, Brahmins, I presume, chanting. They were motion for him to do things like dipping water into the fire in front of him. It went on for hours. They were all very friendly and they gave me prasad (half of a sweet obviously bought from a sweet shop) at one point.
Varanasi
I am having a great time in Varanasi. At one point I decided I was crazy for staying here so long but I was wrong. I can just stand on my balcony watching people walk by for hours. Something new and interesting is always happening. Because of New Year's there are a lot of pilgrims here. Long strings of them walk up and down the ghats. And I liked my first Hindi lesson very much. A window into Indian life seemed to open a sliver. I am in the old city and behind the ghats are endless winding lanes closed to all but pedestrians, bicycles, cows and, unfortunately, motorcycles. One of the great thing about the lanes is no one hassles me. On the ghats, I am always being asked if I want a boat, postcards, grass, to see a silk shop, to contribute to the excavation of a temple, etc., etc., etc. In the lanes, I can poke along at my own speed. On the ghats, it is dangerous to stop, although if I go north (down river), it is better than up river toward the main ghat.
It is nap time. Back to the ghats and the 100 steps.
My New Hotel
Except for my complaints above, I like my new place very much. Admittedly, there are almost 100 steps between the walk along the river and my room at the top of the hotel and there is only one entrance so I must climb the 100 steps every time I come home to my room, but once I get there, it is worth it. I have a spectacular view of the Ganges. I am just down river from the main cremation ghat and at night, I can see the fires, and in the daytime, the smoke. Cremations take place 24 hours a day. My room is simple but quite comfortable. The monkeys make a lot of noise, and last night, there was amplified chanting all night long because of the New Year's festival, and the temple bells start ringing at 5 in the morning and there are the usual dog choruses in the middle of the night, but earplugs and familiarity take care of all the sounds and I sleep as well if not better here than I have anyplace in India. Although there is a lot of activity along the river bank (the ghats), the hotel is a walk from most tourist amenities, so I usually eat breakfast and the evening meal at the hotel. The restaurant is quite reasonable and the other tourists are interesting and therefore . . .
The Social Whirl
In Delhi, I was on the edge of the tourist circuit but here I am right in the middle of it. Even before Ben left, I started meeting people and now have made several friends. My place is not home to many long stay travelers, so the friendships are short, but my days are full. Even before I moved here, I met a young Swedish musician at Asi Ghat. We have plans to get together when he gets back from the mela at Allahabad. Then at my new hotel (Scindia Guest House), I met a French psychologist. She practices the eye movement thing that I can't remember the name of and is studying Somatic Experiencing (SE) which I am doing with Shel Rasch. She (the French psychologist -- names do not stick in my head anymore) and I have hung out together several times and will do so again. She is also at the mela but will be back soon. If my energy picks up, I might go back to the mela for a day or two, but right now, although I am feeling better than I have since I arrived in India, my full strength has not come back. However, after a couple more days of stair climbing therapy, I will be strong as the buffalo that are everywhere on the ghats. There is a herd of them on the steps of the burning ghat that I have to thread my way through on the way home. Ben T. told me to get a flashlight and for once I listened to him and it is invaluable for avoiding cow flops on dark nights. Not only is there no electricity between 10 and 3, it is also prone to going out at other times and some of the ghats are very dark after the sun has gone down.
I have also started interviewing tourists as part of my "Tourist Project." I am terrible at it. My respect for anthropologists has gone up enormously. My first subjects were an Australian couple in their early fifties who have just started out on a year-long circuit of Asia. Three months in India is their first stage. I met them after they had just completed their first two weeks. They have traveled for five week periods several times before, and they say until that time period is up they don't think the enormity of what they are attempting will settle in.
One thing I am interested in is how people think of themselves. They definitely don't think of themselves as tourists, but they didn't come up with another word. I am going to abandon this question or come at it in a different way. Most people don't like to think of themselves as tourists, but most have not come up with an alternative.
The Australian couple, I do remember their names -- Jan and Keith, are very friendly and quite easy going. They have been married thirty years and although they occasionally annoy each other, they seem to have figured this one out. I am in awe of them. I don't think I could stay away from my roots for that long. Three months is pushing it. I am doing fine so far -- better than I expected, but I know I will be glad to see the clean, wide, traffic free (compared to India) streets of Los Angeles again.
I have also been hanging out with a Canadian couple from Calgary, Paul and Tara. She says she is not a tourist but a sociologist. He didn't respond. They spent time in Dubai and Oman before India. They loved Oman. "A real treasure," they say. They had expected to be met by an Indian friend but there was a family misfortune and at the last minute, they were left to arrange their own time in India. They are doing very well. They are about to leave Varanasi for Rishikesh to chill out in the cool air while practicing yoga.
And then more Australians, and then some Norwegians, and who knows who is next. I talk all day long it seems. But now that I have Hindi classes and homework, I will have to be disciplined. However, the nights are long if I don't hang out over the dinner table.
Makar Sankranti
Yesterday, was the Hindu New Year's, Makar Sankranti. It was celebrated by bathing in the Ganges and flying kites. I was out on the ghats by 6:00 a.m. (sunrise is about 6:45) and both activities had already begun. By sunrise, the sky was filled with kites. There were so many of them that one had to be careful as one walked not to get tangled up. Some of them were being flown by very small children who didn't quite have the hang of it yet. The kites are made of plastic and are small, about 1 foot square with a very small, stubby tail. They can go very high. They launch the kites by repeatedly giving short, strong tugs on the string until the kites are high enough to catch a current. They are very skillful. In a few days there is to be a professional kite flying tournament. I don't know where. Accurate information is hard to find.
All day long yesterday, there were crowds on the ghats, sitting, eating snacks and bathing. Mostly men but quite a few women too. At one point, I was sitting watching some boys fly kites when I was suddenly surrounded by a Punjabi family, at least ten or twelve people. They were all talking to me at once in a mixture of languages. It was fun, but I soon moved on.
Also yesterday, a saddhu was being initiated on the ghat below our hotel. That's what I think was happening. The hotel manager said, "Oh, those tourists are doing puja down there." I would never of thought of them as tourists, but I guess they didn't come from Varanasi. There was a saddhu dressonly in a short saffron wrap around his waste. He sat on a platform in front of a row of religious pictures all of which were garlanded with marigolds. Beside him there were two men in the Indian version of Western clothes, Brahmins, I presume, chanting. They were motion for him to do things like dipping water into the fire in front of him. It went on for hours. They were all very friendly and they gave me prasad (half of a sweet obviously bought from a sweet shop) at one point.
Varanasi
I am having a great time in Varanasi. At one point I decided I was crazy for staying here so long but I was wrong. I can just stand on my balcony watching people walk by for hours. Something new and interesting is always happening. Because of New Year's there are a lot of pilgrims here. Long strings of them walk up and down the ghats. And I liked my first Hindi lesson very much. A window into Indian life seemed to open a sliver. I am in the old city and behind the ghats are endless winding lanes closed to all but pedestrians, bicycles, cows and, unfortunately, motorcycles. One of the great thing about the lanes is no one hassles me. On the ghats, I am always being asked if I want a boat, postcards, grass, to see a silk shop, to contribute to the excavation of a temple, etc., etc., etc. In the lanes, I can poke along at my own speed. On the ghats, it is dangerous to stop, although if I go north (down river), it is better than up river toward the main ghat.
It is nap time. Back to the ghats and the 100 steps.
Sunday, January 7, 2007
Moonlight on the Ganges
I haven't see moonlight on the Ganges yet, but the moon was over the Ganges when we arrived in Varanasi and we walked almost to the Ganges, but not quite. It was late and we were tired. We arrived from Allahabad on the Sarnath Express, a train which expanded my understanding of "express." The Sarnath Express is a very gracious train stopping at every town and village and sometimes in between, apparently to say hello to the cows for there was no one else around. It took it three hours to cover 90 miles so it's average was a civilized thirty-miles-an-hour. It also was two hours behind schedule. There was no food on the train and no food at the stations. On most trains, you are beseiged by foodsellers at the stops, but not on the dignified Saranath Express.
The moon was lovely, a large, orange gibbous moon only two or three days past full. Tonight I did go to the Ganges, but I left before the moon arrived. I arrived just after sunset and as the dusk deepened, a boat in the middle of the river set out one floating fire after another so that eventually, there was a long line of fire floating down stream. When I first arrived, boys were still flying kites, a favorite wintertime sport in Varanasi. As I walked away, I got tangled up in one of the kite strings. The boy was very gracious about it. The river was beautiful, lined with with temples and palaces. People were just hanging out, eating peanuts from the roasted peanut sellers and talking. The buildings collected the all the voices and sent them out over the water. It was a beautiful sound. Then on the shore someone started ringing a bell repeatedly and two men started clapping what looked and sounded like pot lids together, and a drum started beating. Each percussionist had their own sense of the beat and they stuck to it. Then a priest began blessing the Ganges with a peacock fan, then with incense, then with fire in a beautiful tiered lamp holder. Finally, prasad, blessed food was handed out, the beat for a moment grew stronger and more focused, everyone stood up and it was over.
The from a nearby temple I heard chanting, at first just a two-note chant, and then something more like a song. It was amplified and I moved away a little and when it stopped, I realized another priest in a small shrine was chanting. It was beautiful. It was dark now. A few lights shone along the curve of the river, and a few more around me from the shrines, the peanut sellers and the occasional, harsh streetlight.
Varanasi is a beautiful city along the river. Away from the river, it is crowded, noisy and dusty like all Indian cities. Near the river, the lanes tend to be so narrow that only bicycles, motorcycles, cows and goats can navigate them and the traffic is less. We are staying for the moment just a short walk from the river. I am negotiating for Hindi classes down the river in the heart of the old city. If it works out, I will move closer to the school although it is only an alleged 10 rupee ride away. Varanasi is cheaper than Delhi. The bottled water here is 10 rupees instead of 12. It also has a lot of book shops which makes it an expensive city for me. I made arrangements today to have some books shipped home. It was Sunday and the book shipper was closed except for dusting and cleaning. I will bring my stack to him tomorrow or the next day.
It's getting close to supper time. I'm not sure what Ben is doing and if I am eating alone I need to find a restaurant before I get too hungry.
The moon was lovely, a large, orange gibbous moon only two or three days past full. Tonight I did go to the Ganges, but I left before the moon arrived. I arrived just after sunset and as the dusk deepened, a boat in the middle of the river set out one floating fire after another so that eventually, there was a long line of fire floating down stream. When I first arrived, boys were still flying kites, a favorite wintertime sport in Varanasi. As I walked away, I got tangled up in one of the kite strings. The boy was very gracious about it. The river was beautiful, lined with with temples and palaces. People were just hanging out, eating peanuts from the roasted peanut sellers and talking. The buildings collected the all the voices and sent them out over the water. It was a beautiful sound. Then on the shore someone started ringing a bell repeatedly and two men started clapping what looked and sounded like pot lids together, and a drum started beating. Each percussionist had their own sense of the beat and they stuck to it. Then a priest began blessing the Ganges with a peacock fan, then with incense, then with fire in a beautiful tiered lamp holder. Finally, prasad, blessed food was handed out, the beat for a moment grew stronger and more focused, everyone stood up and it was over.
The from a nearby temple I heard chanting, at first just a two-note chant, and then something more like a song. It was amplified and I moved away a little and when it stopped, I realized another priest in a small shrine was chanting. It was beautiful. It was dark now. A few lights shone along the curve of the river, and a few more around me from the shrines, the peanut sellers and the occasional, harsh streetlight.
Varanasi is a beautiful city along the river. Away from the river, it is crowded, noisy and dusty like all Indian cities. Near the river, the lanes tend to be so narrow that only bicycles, motorcycles, cows and goats can navigate them and the traffic is less. We are staying for the moment just a short walk from the river. I am negotiating for Hindi classes down the river in the heart of the old city. If it works out, I will move closer to the school although it is only an alleged 10 rupee ride away. Varanasi is cheaper than Delhi. The bottled water here is 10 rupees instead of 12. It also has a lot of book shops which makes it an expensive city for me. I made arrangements today to have some books shipped home. It was Sunday and the book shipper was closed except for dusting and cleaning. I will bring my stack to him tomorrow or the next day.
It's getting close to supper time. I'm not sure what Ben is doing and if I am eating alone I need to find a restaurant before I get too hungry.
Thursday, January 4, 2007
More Catching Up
It is already the 5th of January and I am in Allahabad a couple of hundred miles east of Delhi. I have been sick again. In fact, Ben complains that I have been sick ever since he arrived and unfortunately, it's true. I was recovering from my stomach thing and then I developed a cough. At first it didn't seem serious, but by the time I arrived in Allahabad, the cough was deeper and I had a fever. So I saw another Indian doctor, my third. He gave me antibiotics and some palliatives (i.e., Tylenol, cough syrup, etc.), and I am feeling better, but the first full day in Allahabad I slept all day and yesterday I was very spaced out. I feel better today, but I am staying close to town while Ben explores the mela. My blood pressure is also high which is unusual so I am taking blood pressure medicine. I will check all this out with a doctor in Varanasi where I am staying for two weeks.
This trip has turned out completely different than I had planned. Instead of traveling all over I am mainly staying in Delhi and Varanasi with (so far) excursions to Mathura and Allahabad. We are in Allahabad because of the Ardh Mela which is half of a Kumbh Mela. The Kumbh Mela happens every 12 years in Allahabad. It is a large religious gathering at a propitious time to bathe in the confluence of the Ganges and the Yamuna rivers, which are real, and the Saraswati river (mythical). I went last night for the first time last night. It is a very, very large county fair laid out on the sands of the Ganges. It is a huge tent city with metal plates laid out for roads. I was interested in staying in a tent, but Ben thought it would be noisy, dusty and buggy (which it would have been even though we were looking at extra-deluxe tents). I wanted emmerse myself in the experience. The hotel is 6 miles from the site and it takes about 1/2 hour or more in a bicycle rickshaw. Anyway, it's just as well. The doctor is across the street and the chemist (pharmacy) is down the road (King's & Co. dating from the colonial era) and I am well away from the dust.
My cold got worse because on New Year's Eve I was at a great party and spent too much time on the roof watching my hosts shoot off fireworks. I also danced more than I have in ages. I would dance for a while, then I would get a coughing fit, and I would stop and then I would start dancing again. It wasn't very smart but it was a lot of fun. There was a lot of disco music alternating with Bollywood songs. Everybody was dancing to YMCA but only Ben and I seemed to know the proper arm movements or maybe they were spelling out the words in Hindi.
Then the next day we were to fly to Allahabad but at the airport our flight was canceled due to fog. We were put on a flight to Varanasi which arrived 2 hours late. We had arranged for a car and driver to take us the 100 miles or so to Allahabad. The driver was late, even later than the plane, so that was stressful and then we started out on the Grand Truck Road which I love but is a narrow, two-lane highway which carries all the truck traffic of Northern India from the Pakistan border to Calcutta and so is very crowded, especially at night. We had the foresight to have the driver stop at a roadside dabha where we had a very good meal -- rice, a delicious dal (lentils -- split moong beans, I think), a mutton curry and an eggplant dish with a lot of ginger. It was one of the better meals we have had in India. The driver was apologetic about it, but it was fine.
Then we hit the road. It was crowded but we made relatively good speed until we were not far from Allahabad and then were were trucks parked first in our lane, and then on the shoulder on the other side of the road and then in the other lane itself. We came to a stop. The driver had a co-pilot who got out of the car and walked forward. After a lot of talking, some cars were extricated from the mess, trucks moved slowly to the side and traffic began moving in the opposite direction and then, after what seemed like all the trucks in India had passed, we began to move. It turns out that because of the mela, heavy trucks had been stopped from entering Allahabad at night so they just parked wherever there was room. The last time I was on the Grand Truck Road going in the opposite direction from Varanasi to Bodh Gaya where the Buddha became enlightened there was an even worse traffic jam on the state border between Uttar Pradesh and Bihar. It was at the customs check. I read in the paper today that they are finally eliminating interstate taxes over the next four years and replacing them with VAT. For the tourist it means that hotels, restaurants and some other services will be more expensive. India is still cheap, but it is rapidly catching up to the rest of the world, especially in the tourist sector. You can still travel cheaply, but at a much comfortable level than you could travel for the same money a few years back.
So after New Year's Eve and the long car ride, my lungs were trashed. I am getting better, but as the doctor reminded me, I'm old and I don't heal as rapidly as I used to.
I had fun at the mela. I followed Ben around and major gurus and saddhus have their own camps into which one can walk and listen to them singing, drumming and chanting or just sitting around pit fires smoking dope. There is a lot of the latter going on. I am going back again this afternoon and try to find the river (it's a long ways away from the camp entry), and maybe even take a boat ride. The boatmen were on strike on the first day but I think they were working again. The government was restricting them to one landing site and they didn't like it. Their is a lot in the press also about the low water level and the high bacteria count. Now the government is trying to shut down the tanneries upstream for 10 days, but many of the tannery owners are Muslim and don't want to lose money for "some saints," and the government isn't offering compensation. Communal tensions have been high in this area because of protests organized by a Muslim party against the hanging of Sadam Hussain. The protesters allegedly stoned a temple and trouble ensued. In Allahabad, the protesters tried to close some shops that didn't want to close and there were tussles but not in my part of town.
A couple of things I have been meaning to write about but haven't so far.
Toilet seats -- the toilet seats on Western-style toilets are made of thin, hard plastic and the contacts between the seat and the porcelain are made of very hard slippery plastic as well. If you align the contacts on the porcelain, sooner or later the seat will take a sudden lurch to the right or the left. After awhile the pressure applied to the hinges is too much for them, and one or the other of them breaks and the seat becomes even more unstable. I guess nonslip supports for the seat are too expensive. At any rate, in all the Western-style bathrooms all over India people are lurching, some to the left and some to the right.
Prescriptions -- In India, the doctor's prescriptions serves the same purpose as a chart does in the United States. It is a large sheet of paper on which he lists all the prescriptions and makes little circles to indicate how many pills you need to take a day. For liquids, he makes an equal sign for each dose. You take this to the pharmacy and they fill it and give it back to you. You are expected to take the prescription to the doctor the next time you visit because he makes no other record of your case. The slips of paper are treated by the doctor and the pharmacist with reverence and you are expected to do the same.
O.K. Signing out now. I hope to have more time in Varanasi to catch up on the back log.
This trip has turned out completely different than I had planned. Instead of traveling all over I am mainly staying in Delhi and Varanasi with (so far) excursions to Mathura and Allahabad. We are in Allahabad because of the Ardh Mela which is half of a Kumbh Mela. The Kumbh Mela happens every 12 years in Allahabad. It is a large religious gathering at a propitious time to bathe in the confluence of the Ganges and the Yamuna rivers, which are real, and the Saraswati river (mythical). I went last night for the first time last night. It is a very, very large county fair laid out on the sands of the Ganges. It is a huge tent city with metal plates laid out for roads. I was interested in staying in a tent, but Ben thought it would be noisy, dusty and buggy (which it would have been even though we were looking at extra-deluxe tents). I wanted emmerse myself in the experience. The hotel is 6 miles from the site and it takes about 1/2 hour or more in a bicycle rickshaw. Anyway, it's just as well. The doctor is across the street and the chemist (pharmacy) is down the road (King's & Co. dating from the colonial era) and I am well away from the dust.
My cold got worse because on New Year's Eve I was at a great party and spent too much time on the roof watching my hosts shoot off fireworks. I also danced more than I have in ages. I would dance for a while, then I would get a coughing fit, and I would stop and then I would start dancing again. It wasn't very smart but it was a lot of fun. There was a lot of disco music alternating with Bollywood songs. Everybody was dancing to YMCA but only Ben and I seemed to know the proper arm movements or maybe they were spelling out the words in Hindi.
Then the next day we were to fly to Allahabad but at the airport our flight was canceled due to fog. We were put on a flight to Varanasi which arrived 2 hours late. We had arranged for a car and driver to take us the 100 miles or so to Allahabad. The driver was late, even later than the plane, so that was stressful and then we started out on the Grand Truck Road which I love but is a narrow, two-lane highway which carries all the truck traffic of Northern India from the Pakistan border to Calcutta and so is very crowded, especially at night. We had the foresight to have the driver stop at a roadside dabha where we had a very good meal -- rice, a delicious dal (lentils -- split moong beans, I think), a mutton curry and an eggplant dish with a lot of ginger. It was one of the better meals we have had in India. The driver was apologetic about it, but it was fine.
Then we hit the road. It was crowded but we made relatively good speed until we were not far from Allahabad and then were were trucks parked first in our lane, and then on the shoulder on the other side of the road and then in the other lane itself. We came to a stop. The driver had a co-pilot who got out of the car and walked forward. After a lot of talking, some cars were extricated from the mess, trucks moved slowly to the side and traffic began moving in the opposite direction and then, after what seemed like all the trucks in India had passed, we began to move. It turns out that because of the mela, heavy trucks had been stopped from entering Allahabad at night so they just parked wherever there was room. The last time I was on the Grand Truck Road going in the opposite direction from Varanasi to Bodh Gaya where the Buddha became enlightened there was an even worse traffic jam on the state border between Uttar Pradesh and Bihar. It was at the customs check. I read in the paper today that they are finally eliminating interstate taxes over the next four years and replacing them with VAT. For the tourist it means that hotels, restaurants and some other services will be more expensive. India is still cheap, but it is rapidly catching up to the rest of the world, especially in the tourist sector. You can still travel cheaply, but at a much comfortable level than you could travel for the same money a few years back.
So after New Year's Eve and the long car ride, my lungs were trashed. I am getting better, but as the doctor reminded me, I'm old and I don't heal as rapidly as I used to.
I had fun at the mela. I followed Ben around and major gurus and saddhus have their own camps into which one can walk and listen to them singing, drumming and chanting or just sitting around pit fires smoking dope. There is a lot of the latter going on. I am going back again this afternoon and try to find the river (it's a long ways away from the camp entry), and maybe even take a boat ride. The boatmen were on strike on the first day but I think they were working again. The government was restricting them to one landing site and they didn't like it. Their is a lot in the press also about the low water level and the high bacteria count. Now the government is trying to shut down the tanneries upstream for 10 days, but many of the tannery owners are Muslim and don't want to lose money for "some saints," and the government isn't offering compensation. Communal tensions have been high in this area because of protests organized by a Muslim party against the hanging of Sadam Hussain. The protesters allegedly stoned a temple and trouble ensued. In Allahabad, the protesters tried to close some shops that didn't want to close and there were tussles but not in my part of town.
A couple of things I have been meaning to write about but haven't so far.
Toilet seats -- the toilet seats on Western-style toilets are made of thin, hard plastic and the contacts between the seat and the porcelain are made of very hard slippery plastic as well. If you align the contacts on the porcelain, sooner or later the seat will take a sudden lurch to the right or the left. After awhile the pressure applied to the hinges is too much for them, and one or the other of them breaks and the seat becomes even more unstable. I guess nonslip supports for the seat are too expensive. At any rate, in all the Western-style bathrooms all over India people are lurching, some to the left and some to the right.
Prescriptions -- In India, the doctor's prescriptions serves the same purpose as a chart does in the United States. It is a large sheet of paper on which he lists all the prescriptions and makes little circles to indicate how many pills you need to take a day. For liquids, he makes an equal sign for each dose. You take this to the pharmacy and they fill it and give it back to you. You are expected to take the prescription to the doctor the next time you visit because he makes no other record of your case. The slips of paper are treated by the doctor and the pharmacist with reverence and you are expected to do the same.
O.K. Signing out now. I hope to have more time in Varanasi to catch up on the back log.
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